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everlarkficexchange · 3 years

Text

Clubbing 101

Written by @alliswell21

Prompt 144: She has a night of fun before the start of the semester. She meets this guy, they hit it off that they sleep together. But when she shows up to her class the next day, she sees the guy again. But he’s her professor and he’s way older than she originally thought. #olderPeeta [submitted by @animekpopxx]

Rating: Explicit. NSFW.

Tags and Warnings: Canon Divergence; College!AU; Age gap, older man/younger woman; The opposite to slow burn? Smut; Unprotected sex; technically impaired consent since alcohol, but their both into each other while sober too 🤷🏻‍♀️; Ethical dilemmas; Teacher/Student relationship (sort of); One Shot, with an ambiguous open ending? Almost 10K words. Unbetaed.

Notes: Thank you to the moderators once more for putting up with us, procrastinating writers. You gals are saints! Thank you to @animekpopxx for her amazing prompts that never fail to snag my attention and give me the best ideas ever! You rock! I projected this story to be a smutty short thing, but it sprouted words and a background out of nowhere and I had to forced myself to stop adding to it, to get back to my other submissions waiting in my docs. Hopefully, it’s a good read for the ones who take the chance with it.

Thank you all!

KPKPKPKPKP

It starts with a harmless ranting.

“I’m not outgoing, or fun. I’m not even ‘cool’… hell, I don’t care what my sister says, I’m too old for this place!” I tell the handsome, bearded, guy sitting in the barstool next to me, “She’s a med student, you know, but she insists that partying is part of the college experience, especially when one’s career is so demanding… plus, is the last weekend of summer break, which apparently means you’re contractually obligated to party extra hard,” I roll my eyes, “I never saw the appeal personally, but I let her drag me out here so I can keep an eye on her. Is not like I’m gonna let her piss away her future for a night of clubbing,” I scoff, taking a long pull of my beer.

The guy chuckles, but I’m not done just yet.

I slam down my bottle and continue listing my grievances, “The thing that grinds my gears, is that she begged for a ‘girls’ night out’, and instead of drinking with me and people watch, she goes off with the first fucker that asks her to dance! I mean… did it ever occur to her, I may want to dance with her on OUR girls’ night out?!” I scowl and gulp another mouthful of beer, “then, to add insult to injury, thirty minutes later I get a text from her, saying to go on home without her ‘cause she found a ride, followed by that cursed eggplant emoji, like I needed an illustration of what kind of ride she’s getting,” I mock gag, rearranging the strap of my tiny purse across my chest.

“I guess she’s young, and beautiful, and does work very hard, but if you invite me to go clubbing with you, don’t abandon me within the first 15 minutes of arriving!”

My companion winces before sipping his drink, and smiling ruefully, “That’s harsh… sorry you’re having a shitty night,”

“Meh… little sisters, right?!” I shrug.

The guy smiles crookedly at me, and I find myself enjoying his smile, “I wouldn’t know about that. I’m the baby of three brothers, and the only thing I got away with was learning how to wrestle and spring awesome comebacks on the fly… the brutes kept me on my toes,” he chuckles.

“Three boys? Sounds chaotic. Your poor mother!”

“Yeah… life’s chaotic.” He averts his eyes for a second, his smile goes away. I’m afraid I’ve said something wrong, but he suddenly looks back at me, and confesses, “I’m not into clubbing either.” His eyes sparkle, despite the awful, dim, blue lights bathing the place.

I smile, “Look at us wallflowers, bonding over drinks and sibling shenanigans,” we clink our drinks together and sip. I’m chatty and relaxed, so unlike myself; I guess the two beers I’ve had are starting to get to me. “I’m Katniss, by the way.”

“That’s pretty,” he says, shyly; makes my chest warm up. “Nice to meet you, Katniss. I’m Peeta.”

I arch my eyebrows, “Peter?” I repeat, because I’m pretty sure I miss-heard him over the obnoxiously loud music.

The guy shakes his head, “Pee-ta… like the bread?” He chuckles. Then adds, “Family name. Everyone on my dad’s side are bakers.”

I snort-laugh, “Punny!” I say, taking another sip. Yup, beer’s getting to me, I’m not this cleverly funny. “My dad was into survivalism and botany… I’m named after a plant also known as Duck Potato, so I win the weird name competition!”

“Hey, it’s something else to bond over,”

“Cheers to that!” We clink our drinks again, and partake in our booze.

He orders another whiskey neat when he’s out… sounds both snooty and distinguished at the same time. Goes well with his put together image, though: nicely trimmed beard, nicely combed hair, nice polo shirt with what I believe is a tiny loaf of bread embroidered on the chest, and dark-wash jeans… I think. It’s hard to tell under the black lights of the club.

He offers to get me another drink, and I order an appletini.

“J.D. from Scrubs always drank one,” I explain, swirling the coctel in my hand, “I’ve always been curious to try, but didn’t wanna spend my own money experimenting on a drink I could potentially hate.”

“Makes sense,” Peeta says, “So… what’s the verdict?”

“Is pretty good, actually. But I think I’ll stick with my Miller Light,”

Peeta nods, “I honestly don’t enjoy alcohol that much.”

I giggle. “Then, what brings you to this fine establishment tonight, sir, if you’re not much for clubbing, or drinking?” I watch him out of the corner of my eye.

I like that when he smiles, his eyes crinkle in the corners.

“I lost a bet against a colleague.”

“Oh,” I’m suddenly self conscious and a little uncomfortable. I give the guy a scrutinizing look, and ask suspiciously, “what was the punishment exactly?”

The man rolls his eyes. “I have to spend one whole hour in the club, without criticizing anything, like the bitter old man I am,” he grins, “My friend’s words. Not mine!” He raises both hands, claiming innocence.

I laugh at the face he pulls, “Well, you’ve just defaulted on that punishment,”

“How so?” He beams.

“With the look in your face! It spoke volumes!”

“Am I that transparent?”

“You read like a preschooler’s board book, pal!”

We both laugh, I drink my beer, and he throws back his whiskey neat.

“So…” he makes a show of looking at his watch, “I still have 33 minutes to kill before I’m allowed to run out of this place… I know I’m not a Med student, co-Ed, sister of yours, but… would you, um, like to dance with me?” He sounds adorably hopeful.

I glance at the man sideways, toying with my bottle.

He smirks, mischievously, “I promise, spirits make me more coordinated on the dance floor. I become this amazing dancer when I have a couple of drinks on… or so my brain believes. I probably look like an idiot, but I’m too goofy to know the difference. You’re welcome to be the judge it for yourself,”

I take my sweet time finishing the last dregs of my beer, and wrinkle my nose, “You sure you wanna dance to this shit, kids call music nowadays?” I smirk, pointing a finger up, motioning wide circles into the ether.

Peeta gives a full belly laugh.

I really do like his laugh!

“Isn’t it our only choice?” He ventures.

Not if you follow me home, my thirsty brain supplies; my lips on the other hand, just let through a hint of a smile, because I’m buzzed, but not drunk enough to proposition a total stranger. I’ve never been one to sleep around anyway.

“Okay,” I say, too enthused. “As long as we both agree that this isn’t music,”

“Oh no, this just barely passes as noise!” Peeta agrees readily.

He guides me to the packed dance floor, and we start moving to the booming, deafening tunes playing overhead.

I’m not sure if one could call this dancing. Everywhere I look people are writhing against each other, like a pack of zombies without grace or rhyme.

I’m not sure Peeta will get an accurate assessment of his dancing skills, compared to what I’m seeing, he’ll probably look like a professional; plus, it’s too dark and busy in here to really appreciate anything, really, but after a few minutes of just shifting in place, robotically, I snatch two bottle beers from a waitress walking by, offering one to my partner, hoping that’s enough to get us loosen up. The waitress stares at me until I rummage on my crossbody mini purse and toss a crumple ten on her tray.

The liquid boost works. Before I know it, I’m grinding my hips against his. Peeta’s just the right height for his thigh to fit between my legs and brush against my front. I get tired of undulating my arms in the air, so I drop them around his shoulders, and feel just how firm and broad he is under my touch.

Our chests are tightly pressed together, and I’m at the right angle to just stare at his plush-looking lips. I turn around before I do something brash, like kiss him in the mouth. Peeta doesn’t question it, he just places his hands on my hips, and starts moving to the music’s beat.

I bring the beer to my lips, but the bottle’s empty… oops! It doesn’t matter, I’m having the time of my life!

Peeta’s swaying guides me. I basically drape my back over his front, and bump my ass into his groin. I feel the hint of a bulge there, and press my rear into it again, just to confirm if I felt what I hope I felt.

Peeta’s fingers tighten on my hip, emboldening me to keep going until I’m practically twerking into him, and his slight bulge morphs into a full blown hard-on.

I twist in his arms to face him, my lust idled brain barely thinking rationally, “Are your 33 minutes done yet?” I yell into his ear, so he can hear me over the noise.

He doesn’t even look at his watch, “To hell with time! I‘ll stay here all night, if you want me to,” He answers loudly.

“Come on, then!” I push off his chest, and snatch up his hand before he can reply.

Leaving the dance floor is surprisingly easily, considering the crowd bouncing in place together.

I make no conscious plan on where we’re going; I’m arguably familiar with the layout of this place from my many visits since Prim turned 21; I’m only mildly surprised when we navigate across the club, all the way to the restrooms. It’s like my clit is making all the decisions tonight… good for it!

There’s a line of disgruntled women waiting to get inside the Ladies Room, but the Men’s Room is available, and Peeta lets me guide him into it, like one of those pull toys children have.

“It stinks in here,” I comment blandly, but make a beeline for the last stall with a door.

There’s one guy at the urinal, but he doesn’t even look up from his pants, so I just shrug it off and yank Peeta into the stall with me.

The space is tight, but once inside the stall, I push Peeta into the door, and attack his mouth.

He makes a startled noise at the back of his throat, but his hands and arms immediately press me into his body more fully. My own hands trek down to his belt, where I fiddle with the buckle until it’s undone, and I can access his pants’ button and fly.

He hisses when my fingers graze his warm erection, and bucks into my knuckles. I’m in the process of sticking my hand inside his boxers, when Peeta growls, sucking my lower lip into his mouth, and letting it go with a wet pop.

“Switch places,” he pants against my mouth, and hoists me up, until my back hits the door and his hands grab my hips possessively, jutting my pelvis forward, “I’m hungry, would you mind if I eat you out?”

“Okay,” I gasp.

Thank you for forcing me to wear your tiny, clubbing dress, Prim!

“You’ll allow it?” He asks, incredulous, rubbing circles on my hips with his thumbs.

“Yes… I’ll allow it!”

His smile is sexy, his stare is hypnotic. Damned my drunken ass! I can’t believe I’m willing to do this in a smelly bathroom stall!

Peeta sits on the toilet and licks his lips while staring up at me. His hands disappear under the stretchy material of my skirt, bumping my purse out of his way. He skims his fingers under the elastic of my panties, and I bite my lip, nodding eagerly.

Slowly, Peeta slides my underwear down my legs, the tips of his fingers follow, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. It’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever experienced!

Once he brings my panties to my knees, his hands rush back up my thighs, pushing the flimsy skirt around my waist. My underwear drops to my ankles on their own.

Peeta’s level eye with my crotch, and I squirm restlessly. “Beautiful… absolutely soaked,” he whispers in a daze, he inhales pulling me closer, “You smell divine!” He descends, nose first, into the thatch of dark curls between my thighs, making me moan. He ruts his face against me, and suddenly drops to his knees, grabbing my calf to pull my leg up.

But the movement gets prevented by my stupid underwear, tangled in my ankles. Without missing a beat, I toe my panties off, so Peeta can maneuver my body however he wants.

He drapes my leg over his shoulder, opening me up to his ravenous mouth. He grunts, burying his face into my core, and finally, FINALLY, his tongue swipes between my folds.

“Fuck!” I squeak.

My hands fly to tangle into his soft, perfectly coiffed hair. I nearly smother him, holding his face to my pussy, but he’s doing wicked things to me with his tongue: lapping, sucking, and nipping at my labia; drawing number eight figures around my clit with the tip of his tongue, to then sinking it deep inside my core. I can’t stop bucking into his mouth over and over.

When was the last time I was given head? Fuck if I know! Darius probably, he was decent, but didn’t do it often. And Thom was so boring at it, I actually preferred he didn’t do it. But this guy is amazing! A real expert in the matter!

“I’m so close! Please… I’m so close,” I wail like a cat in heat, writhing against the door.

Peeta looks up, and despite the horrendous lighting in the room, I realize he’s got the deepest blue eyes I’ve ever seen… too bad I can’t hold his gaze too long, because he starts rubbing my clit with his thumb, while fucking my hole with his tongue, and is all I can do not shout and scalp him in my delirium.

He doesn’t stop drinking my juices while I convulse above him. On the contrary, he retrieves his thumb, but keeps his mouth busy, lapping away all the slick I give him.

It’s too much.

I tug on his hair to pull him off of my sensitive privates.

Peeta takes one last lick with the flat of his tongue and looks up at me, smiling wolfishly, “Was that good?” His beard’s dripping with me, he wipes some of it off on his sleeve.

I snort, unsexy and definitely rude. “You made me cum so hard I saw stars… yeah, it was good. Better than good, really!” I smile down at him, and try to pull him off from the floor.

All the gel holding his curls in place is gone now, rubbed off on my palms. His hair is sticking up on the top and towards the back of his head. I reach up to try and smooth it back, “I’m sorry, I seem to have made a mess of your hair,” I giggle. It’s adorable, but I feel bad that I ruined it.

“You can mess my hair any time you want, Katniss.” He says, almost shyly, he places his hands on my waist, over the bunched up dress.

It’s a big turn on to me, how his words are so flirty, but he delivers them so sweetly and awed. Is unexpected and endearing… which is odd, because I don’t usually find people endearing at all!

We both chuckle.

He licks his lips, and I feel heat pool in my lower belly again.

“Come’ere!” I wrap my hand around his nape, and pull his lips to mine.

He responds immediately, licking the seam of my mouth. I suck on his tongue when he slides it against mine.

He moans.

“Fuck me, Peeta,” I rasp into the kiss, palming his dick through his jeans.

He groans, “Are you sure?” He barely holds back another groan when I squeeze his clothed erection.

“Cock. In me. Now!” I command through gritted teeth, trying to pull his cock out of his pants with one hand, while taking his hand, and splaying it on my boob.

“Okay… shit… this is… surreal! This has never happened to me before!” He kneads my tit, gently.

I’m not sure I was supposed to hear that, so I pretend I didn’t and turn, facing the door to wiggle my ass, in an attempt to convince him.

Peeta makes a noise in his throat, quickly followed by the sound of shifting clothes, and a metallic thump from his belt buckle hitting the toilet.

I whine when Peeta’s warm, heavy cock caressed my bare ass cheek. “Please don’t tease me,” I beg.

“Fuck, Katniss… do you really want this?”

“Yes, Peeta… put your cock inside my cunt, and fuck me all the way to next week! Now!”

His warm body cocoons mine, “Anything you want, sweetheart,” he whispers into my ear, and I feel the blunt head of his cock parting my folds, coating himself with my natural lubricants.

He finds my entrance, pushing inside just the tip. He gasps, “Fuck!” One big hand wraps around my hip to keep me steady, bracing his other arm on the door, above my head.

“Peeta… Please!” I wiggle my ass, making him sink another inch deep.

“Hold still,” He hisses, “I’m trying to hold back… not ramming in too roughly… embarrassing myself, cumming too fast,” His hot breath warms my nape. “You feel like heaven!” He growls, tightening his hold on me.

I’m torn, wishing he’d drill into me without mercy already, while another part of me is grateful he’s trying to stay under control… I don’t know which I want more…

When was the last time I had sex?

As if reading my thoughts, Peeta shares haltingly, “It’s been such a long time for me. I want it to last, but I’m

Not sure if I can,”

I don’t have time to second guess myself, because Peeta’s moving, and he’s massive!

“Don’t hold back!” I bleat, “I want it rough… I want it fast!” I gasp, clenching down on him. I paw at the door for purchase, trying not to face-plant on the cold, hard surface, while Peeta’s fat prick stretches me to the brink of pain! I can’t stay put for him any longer; I buck into him.

“I said to hold still!” He slaps my ass, hard. It stings, but it’s a welcomed feeling.

I moan and melt, finally relaxing enough for him to penetrate me all the way to the hilt. He stays there a moment, breathing harshly into my neck, squeezing my hip on and off.

“You’re so tight. So warm. So wet, Katniss.” He nuzzles my ear, “I’m gonna move now, I apologize beforehand in case this ends too soon for you…” He drags himself slowly out of me, just to plunge right back in with a swift, hard thrust.

I squeak; he grunts..

Peeta holds me by the waist, “You’re so pretty and sexy, Katniss. I can’t decide if you’re real, or the most vivid wet dream I’ve ever had…” he’s fucking me like a jackrabbit in rut.

I’m speechless, vaguely wondering if I didn’t dream him instead?

His cock head hits a spot deep inside me I’ve never reached before. I start babbling nonsense— mostly praising his cock and his strength— I don’t really know what I’m saying, but he seems to be enjoying it thoroughly by the increase in his speed and the volume of his grunts.

I’m joisted up and down his shaft like a rag doll; I wish I’d thought of hanging my stupid little purse somewhere before we started, because now it’s bumping on my thighs, distracting me from the great ducking I’m getting; it’s no matter… I can feel my orgasm building in my belly.

“I’m gonna cum, sweetheart… I want you to cum too,” He nibbles on my earlobe.

“Yes, Peeta! Please make me cum, I’m so close!”

One of his hands slides around my waist to play with my clit, while his other tweaks my nipples over my dress and bra. That, added to the sensation of my g-spot being prodded repeatedly, sends me spinning over the edge.

I must’ve screamed or something, because he clamps his hand over my mouth, and then he’s grunting, digging his forehead between my shoulder blades, and pulling me back against his unyielding body.

“Fuck…” he gasps and shivers behind me. I feel his dick pulsing, his rhythm faltering, and then he goes still.

Peeta sags a little, wedging his shoulder into the door to keep from falling. I’m surprised he still has the strength to hold me up too; I have to be dead weight at this point, since my legs feel like overcooked noodles and my arms gave out a minute ago.

We both try to catch our breaths, too spent and weak for much more, at least for a few minutes.

Peeta stirs. “Are you okay?” He breathes out, ruffling the loose wisps of my hair with his breath.

I chuckle, leaning my sweaty temple on the cool door. “I can’t feel my toes… which is excellent!”

“Good,” he sighs.

Three heart beats later, he straightens up and pulls out of me. An indecent amount of spend flows down my legs as soon as his cock dislodges from my pussy, but Peeta shoves something soft between my thighs quickly, before I have time to freak out about the mess.

I look down mildly curious, staring at an embroidery of a tiny loaf of bread. Vaguely, I wonder if that’s his uniform? He said he was a baker, right? At least he’s named after bread or something. I giggle. “Is this your shirt?” I ask, widening my stance to gracelessly wipe myself clean.

“Yeah,”

“Thank you,” I say, dazedly, turning sideways to smile at him gratefully.

He’s wearing a simple, white, cotton t-shirt when I return the polo to him, now spoiled with cum and slick. I’m caught off guard by how broad shoulder he is, and by how nice he smells… cinnamon and sweat. Weird combination, but pleasant. I wonder if he baked any bread today?

“Um… would you… would you like to put these back on?” He asks awkwardly, leaning down to pick up my discarded panties from besides the foot of the toilet bowl.

I wrinkle my nose, “Not really,” I mumble. “Who knows when was the last time that floor got cleaned. Gross.”

Peeta smiles and shakes his head, “Here,” he grabs his polo, covered in our juices, and wraps my underwear in it. “Now it’s hidden.”

My body is finally catching up with the advanced hour, the beers and the two amazing orgasms. I’m starting to feel sore everywhere, and my eyelids are getting heavy. “Wow… think I’m officially all partied out,” I chuckle weakly.

“Ditto,” Peeta agrees, his smile is shy. “So… there’s this little dinner about two blocks from here,” he starts, eyes downcast; the space seems to shrink around us, now that the frenzy of our physical activities is done with. “Would you like to grab a pancake or som—“

My phone rings, startling us both into silence. I frown, but scramble to find it in my purse, to check who could be calling me… apparently at 2 a.m.!

My frown deepens. Prim’s smiling face flashes on the screen. She was supposed to be getting some herself! “It’s my sister,” I whisper, tamping down my rising panic. I don’t ask if it’s okay to answer, I just do it. “Prim?”

“Where the hell are you?!” I have to pull the phone off, or risk eardrum rupture by my sister’s screeching. “I’ve been texting and calling you! I’ve been worried sick!”

I scowl at the wall, confused and little annoyed, “Prim… Prim, are you okay? Are you hurt? Do you need me to come get you somewhere?” I try to ask.

“What?! No. I’m home! But you aren’t, and I’ve been scared shitless trying to find you!”

I give Peeta an apologetic grimace, and blindly feel around for the lock to get out of the stall. “Um… why are you home so early? Last time I heard from you, you were getting a ride,” I’m trying to sound unaffected; It’s all I can think to say in my mortification.

“Never mind that! Why aren’t you home already? I thought you had to work in the morning and then go to sch—”

While Prim rages at me, I place a hand on the phone and turn to Peeta, still in the stall, awkwardly facing the wall, I assume to grant me some privacy. I’m sure he can hear my sister’s frantic chastisement from where he’s standing. “I’m sorry… you’d think I was a teenager instead of a grown ass adult,” I roll my eyes.

Peeta waves me off good naturedly. “It’s okay. I’m sorry for keeping you so late,”

I’m about to say something else, but Prim yells loudly, something about calling the police and checking the hospitals for me, which truly prompts a reaction from me, “Calm down! I’m still at the club, exactly where you left me!” I cover the phone with my palm again, and turn to him. “I’m… I’m gonna go? Before she threatens to send the marines in,” I try to joke, but our situation takes all the levity out of it, and my attempt dies off, lamely.

Peeta nods, smiling softly; somehow I can tell it’s not genuine.

“Little sisters, right?” I offer halfheartedly, twisting my lips.

“Can I… walk you out at least?” He asks quietly; Prim hasn’t stopped nagging this whole time.

“I… it’s not necessary, but thank you…”

Peeta nods again, looking disappointed.

I don’t get to tell him a proper goodbye, because two dude-bros come in the bathroom, letting the noise from the club filter in; one of the idiots elbows the other, and both start making some lewd comments about me, but Peeta steps in, eyes wild with anger, and tells the guys to knock it off. Prim hears the whole thing of course, and goes nuts herself asking what’s going on?

Peeta looks at me, and motions his head towards the door.

Message received, I step outside the bathroom and book it out of the club, “I’ll be home in a bit. I’m gonna call and Uber,”

“Call me as soon as you’re in it!” Prim demands.

“Fine! Now stop nagging me, will you?!”

I don’t realize I never looked back at Peeta to wave my goodbyes until I’m in the car, heading home. Regret truly is a bitch. I can’t help feeling like I just lost something important, but I have no idea what it is.

>>—————> * <————<<

It’s been a very long Monday. I’m mainly running on caffeine at the moment, and can’t wait to get home and pass out in my fluffy bed, to see if I can catch up on last nights lost hours of sleep.

I enter my last class of the day and find a seat in the middle of the third row. I pull my laptop, a writing pad and my mechanical pencil out of my bag, and watch as my classmates start filtering in one by one, greeting each other and finding their places, lazily.

I’m the oldest student in this class, which is not surprising. I’ve only just come back from my extended— 5 year— sabbatical; and did it only after I was completely sure I could handle my workload and the financial strain of both me and Prim going to college at the same time, without giving myself an early grave.

It’s been hard, but I’m glad I came back to finish my schooling, I only need a handful of credits to graduate, which is great!

I check my watch. We still have a few minutes to kill before class starts. The professor— Dr. Mellark, according to the copy of my schedule— is not here yet, so I pull up the banking app on my phone to give it another glance. The balance is still the same as the last two times I’ve seen it, but it doesn’t hurt to be extra careful when one is on a tight budget. I scheduled payments for the power, gas and rent to go out in the next few days, and I want to make sure there’s enough money in the bank to cover them. We’re looking fine for the month, financially speaking.

The door to the classroom swishes open, and I start signing off my app.

“Good afternoon ladies and germs; I’m doctor Mellark, and provided you’re in this room for an English class, I’ll like to welcome you to the amazing world of Classic Literature!” Says a deep, male voice I find oddly familiar. “By the way, don’t any of you dare to disagree with me on the awesomeness of classic lit… I’m a doctor, I know what I’m talking about… unless you ask me about medicine, then please be free to disregard everything I say, because I’m not ‘that’ kind of doctor!”

A murmure of little chuckles fills the room; even I smile, silencing my phone and putting it away, before looking up at the professor.

I choke on a strangled gasp when I finally set eyes on the man I assume is the teacher, dumping a worn, leather, messenger bag on the desk near the podium. He’s the last person I would’ve expected to have as a professor.

Oblivious to my predicament, Doctor Mellark— or as I know him: Peeta!— keeps introducing himself.

“I’ve been teaching this course for 14th years, but I’m always pleasantly surprised to hear the different points of views my students bring to our discussions on the classics we study, which in a nutshell, is the beauty of this class.” He pulls a ream of paper out of his bag, and gives it to a student in the front, “Please take a syllabus, and pass the rest to the next person, and so on… thank you!”

My face is burning. I think I’m gonna faint.

“But enough about me,” his voice booms, making my whole body shiver. “I don’t normally do roll calls or care about attendance, as long as you’re not missing assignments, and are here during discussions, so this is the first and last time I’ll be reading this list,” he rises a piece of paper above his head, I surmise has the students names on it, and he instructs, before reading, “I’ll call your names, and you’ll introduce yourself, briefly, that way we can all get acquainted with each other, yes?”

Ugh!

He can scratch my name off that list right now! We’re more than acquainted with each other.

Bile rises to my throat. An intrusive, bitter thought pesters me: how many of his students has he gotten ‘that’ familiar with?

But the thought dies off quickly. An even worse, more worrisome thought springs front and center in my mind: Did we use protection?!

Panic rises in my chest, a nervous queasiness settles in my belly; a distant memory of warm goo sliding down my legs comes to mind… Oh shit!

Oh shit, oh shit! We didn’t use a freaking condom? Who does that?!

Oh shit!

Would a Plan B still be effective right now? It’s been less than 24 hours…

Peeta’s reading names. People stand from their seats and talk about themselves. I haven’t heard one word they’ve said, but I’ve been watching how some of the female students bat their eyelashes and speak all breathily, smiling coyly at him… Peeta seems oblivious to the flirting, but I still feel a cocktail of unpleasant feelings in the pit of my stomach.

I realize, I’m jealous!

My ass is frozen in my sit, I’m not even breathing. I don’t think Peeta’s seen me yet, but… what will he do or say once my name comes up? I send a quick prayer to heaven, he won’t recognize me since I look nothing like I did last night at the club, with my hair down and my face all made-up. Right now and plain ol’ me… the rub is gonna be my name. Darn my dad and his awful naming whims!

Soon enough, he reads a name that makes him stutter, “Kat…Katniss? Everdeen?” He does a double take, “Katniss Everdeen…” his eyes are the size of saucers when he scans the lecture hall, swiftly. When he finds me, he looks back down at his paper, and says the name out loud again, unsure, “Katniss Everdeen?” Like he doesn’t believe what he’s reading.

I stand up woodenly, my voice cracks a little, “I’m—I’m Katniss Everdeen… hi!”

I’m about to drop back into my chair, but Peeta kinda mumbles, “You know, Arrowhead, or Katniss is a water plant? The root is edible… like a swamp potato?”

There are quiet little giggles all over the place.

Peeta clears his throat, his eyes flit away; his face’s blank of emotion, but his cheeks seem pinker than a second earlier, “I just read that online, believe it or not. Interesting facts about local flora, people. Reading is knowledge, but so is learning from one another… what can you tell us about yourself, Miss Everdeen, besides that you have a very unique first name?”

“I…” I harrumph, avoiding eye contact with Peeta at all costs, “I’m a part time student. Majoring in Botany. I took this class to fulfill my last English credits requirement for graduation. I do love books and classic literature, in particular.”

“Thank you… Miss Everdeen,” he rasps.

I sit down, clumsily, hoping this horrible, horrible moment is just a nightmare and that I’ll wake up any second now, drooling on my desk, with indentations of my notepad on my cheek, because anything would be less embarrassing than what I’m going through at this point.

Mercifully, Peeta calls a different name, and then another, and then another. I don’t look up from my notepad once.

Peeta for his part, sounds stiff and monotonous— or so I’d like to think— no more jokes or clever sayings. Maybe he’s not as affected as I am about this ordeal, and I’m just making it a bigger deal than it really is? Maybe he does have experience sleeping with students— I mean, it’s not unheard off, right?— Not that either of us had any idea we were engaging in a teacher-student affair last night…

Although, calling it an affair is generous; it was a measly one night stand. A chance encounter. Two people letting off steam before a busy week ahead.

I’m getting increasingly angry with all this thinking… and the class seems to drag on. It feels like an eternity, and my mind keeps churning up all kinds of questions: Why would he not say he was a teacher at this particular college? Did he lie about being a baker? Is his name even Peeta?

I scoffed at the thought.

To my horror, I hear him ask, “Anything to say, Miss Everdeen?”

Looking up at him requires a great deal of bravery and self admonishment, but I do my best and face him— he’s wearing glasses now, which makes my belly tightened for inexplicable reasons— “No, Doctor Mellark, nothing of consequence anyway,” I retort as venemosly as possible, without alerting anyone else there’s something weird going on between me and the professor.

Peeta grimaces slightly. Then looks away, “Very well, as I was saying, we will start with the basics: The Iliad and Moby Dick, since those are High school level works, I expect your reports to be sufficiently well researched, and your personal ideas on the text somewhat fleshed out. It doesn’t have to be in-depth. I’m just looking to determine everyone’s style and needs for the semester ahead…” he continues his spiel, and I feel free to go back to my stewing and my musings.

Before I know it, Peeta’s dismissing the class, wishing everyone a good rest of their evening.

I jump into action, packing my stuff with my head bowed, but then I hear him again.

“Miss Everdeen, a private word, please?” It’s much too quiet to have been said from his podium. I still startled when I look up and find him standing right against the first row of desks, directly in front of me.

His face is not quite stern, but he’s definitely less smiley than when we met.

I force down a gasp, because under the better lighting of the lecture hall, and close up, I can see a plethora of details I missed at the club; like the arresting blue of his eyes, the slight reddish of his neatly trimmed beard, peppered with silver whiskers all over, while his perfectly combed hair is almost all silver on the temples, and ashy blonde on the top. His shoulders are even broader than I remember.

He’s overall stockier than I originally thought, and just a smidge shorter, which is fine, he’s still the most handsome man I’ve ever met, and I wouldn’t mind climbing him like a tree—

I shake my head off the intrusive, lecheros thoughts. I’m literally lusting after my teacher, for goodness sakes! This is beyond a silly schoolgirl crush!

Peeta arches one dark blonde eyebrow at me, expectantly.

I nod curtly, because my tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth, and gesture for him to lead the way.

I shove my laptop into my bag, and hastily shoulder the straps, hugging my writing pad to my chest, following my professor like a chastened little girl.

My stupid eyes find his ass, and I blink twice, at the exquisite sight in front of me. I groan internally.

He grabs his own bag, takes off his spectacles and slides them into his shirt pocket.

How old is this man?! He said he’s been teaching this class for 14 years, when do professors start their teaching careers? How did I never see him before now roaming campus? Is his age the reason he ate pussy like a master?

I shake my head, cursing my horny brain.

Peeta opens a door I have no idea how we came across, and then stands aside, gesturing for me to go in first.

I duck my head and step into a warmly decorated office, with a small desk and two chairs in the middle of the room. Bookshelves full of tomes line the office. A handful of pictures and framed diplomas hang from the only available wall space in the room, but I don’t get to study them before he catches my undivided attention.

“Let me start by apologizing,” Peeta stars, closing the door behind himself, “I assure you, it wasn’t my intention to cause you any stress, or embarrassment out there.” He pauses, “Would you like to sit?” He offers, wincing. He doesn’t wait and steps around me, to pace on the other side of his desk, “I… um, never been in this position before,” he scowls, “I’m not sure what assurances I can offer at the moment, except, that I will start the process to recuse myself from this class immediately, to not interfere with your academic—“

“Recuse yourself?” I cut him off, “what do you mean?”

Peeta squirms a little, and sits down heavily on his chair. My bag slides off my shoulder, and I just dump it in the empty chair I was offered a moment ago.

“Well, Miss Everdeen, it’s the right thing to do, given our circumstances. We’ve breached the appropriate boundaries of our pupil and teacher positions, and staying in the same class together will put you at a disadvantage… is a power imbalance situation, that calls for action.”

“Can you stop calling me ‘Miss Everdeen’? It’s weird…”

“I’m just trying to maintain an acceptable level of decorum between us,” he says sheepishly.

“That ship has already sailed,” I say tiredly.

“Perhaps, but it’s my responsibility to still try,” he rubs his forehead. “Anyway, I’ll call my department and see what is next. Stepping down myself is the only fair solution I see so far… it would be terribly unfair to ask you to switch classes. Simply disrespectful, but we both can agree this uncomfortable situation needs to be nipped in the bud, for both our sakes, Miss Everdeen.”

“This is bullshit!” I snap, “What happened in that club, isn’t that terrible of a problem! What we really need to do is stop acting so stiffly and guilty. By the way, you sound like a walking thesaurus!” I accuse, looking him in the eyes for the first time since he called my name at the lecture hall. “Stop it!”

Peeta inhales deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Miss Everdeen, our actions last night may have been honest, and even innocent in nature, but they still carry consequences… unexpected ones, especially in light of the facts. And the facts are, that it would be unethical for me to remain in a position of authority over you. In any case… if you feel the need to report me to the school administration, for… harassment or inappropriate behavior or anything else, I won’t dispute any claims. I promise to distance myself from you and give you space so you can continue with your education without interference, in a safe environment.”

I grunt, “I’m not going to report you, because you didn’t do anything wrong. Sure, I thought you were a baker… I mean your story about your name, and that little loaf of bread embroidered into your shirt, I thought it was your uniform,” I shrug one shoulder.

“Sorry about that… I never meant to mislead you,” he says bashful.

I ignore him, “Either way, I was the one pulling you into that bathroom. I threw myself at you. I begged you to do things to me, and you just granted me my wishes…” like a sexy gentleman, “The sex is on me. I’m 26 years old, I’m not some bumbling teenager who hasn’t learned to take responsibility for her actions, so, please… stop trying to shield me, or protect me, or whatever it is you’re doing,” my arms flap around in frustration. I finally push my bag off the chair, and sink into it. “Look, Peeta—“

“Professor…” he corrects, frowning a little.

I roll my eyes, if he knew he’s just making it sound kinkier than it already is, he wouldn’t be so adamant about the freaking titles.

“Fine… Doctor Mellark,” I enunciate, pettily. “I specifically chose your class as my last English elective for two reasons. One: it’s exactly the amount of credits I need to graduate at the end of the semester. And two: it fits my schedule to a T, which is important, since I do have a full time job when I’m not a college student. So, I’m sure we can both be adults about this unfortunate situation, and simply forge on. There’s no need for you to recuse from teaching this class, and I have absolutely no intention of switching. We both can wear our big people britches, and pretend last night was a… what did you call it?” I wave my hands, as if the answer will materialize from thin air, “A vivid wet dream? And leave it at that!”

Peeta glares at me, looking aggravated for the first time since I met him. “It’ll be unethical to continue like everything is normal, Miss Everdeen.” Peeta argues, stubbornly.

“Nobody has to know about last night,” I say, exasperated, then a horrifying thought flashes in my mind, “Unless you bragged about it already!”

“No!” He straightens in his chair, looking offended, “I would never do something so vile,” He looks indignant, “plus, the fact still remains that something did happen last night, and I know about it! I can’t, in good faith, be your teacher.”

“Are you planning on showing me favoritism because you know what my pussy tastes like, Peeta?” I deadpan, “Or are you gonna blackmail me into doing it again?”

“Stop calling me Peeta!” He growls through his teeth, his very thick fingers clenching into fists on his armrests.

I blink at his reaction owlishly, realizing I’m truly pushing it this time.

“I’ve always prided myself on keeping my nose clean. Being a decent man and tutor. Never in 17 years of teaching have I slept with a co-ed, let alone a student in my own class.” He breathes deeply, then pins me to my chair, with those arresting blue eyes of his, burning with controlled anger, “I would never extort you or anyone for sexual favors, Katniss. While I don’t really want to lose my tenure or face other disciplinary actions from the school authorities, the one thing I truly don’t want to damage are my personal standards, and my self image.

“Katniss, I’m already biased when it comes to you. Being your professor won’t be exactly fair to anyone. I’m not saying I would give you A’s willy-nilly, nor that I would grade your papers any differently than I’d do your peers or that I’d be less critical of your work,”

“That’s reassuring,” I roll my eyes. “You’re telling me that if I bring you a shit essay, you might not be persuaded to let me redo it?”

He sighs, “I don’t know…” he scratches the back of his neck, “I’ll most likely hover over your desk a disproportionate amount of time compared to your classmates. There’s also a chance I’ll call on your name more often than the rest of them?”

“I still don’t hear one unscrupulous, wrong reason, why you can’t do your job, and teach this class.”

We sit there, staring at each other, at an impasse.

“Why are you so set on keeping me in that room, Miss Everdeen?” He asks, softly.

Finally, I relent, relaxing my tense shoulders, and exhaling tiredly. I raise my hands in defeat. “I don’t know, Peeta. Because I want to protect you, the same way you’re trying to protect me. But… recuse yourself if you have to. I still believe you’re a better man than your urges.”

Peeta relaxes in his chair too, “Thank you, Katniss.You didn’t have to say that, specially because you don’t know me. It still means a lot.”

I chew the inside of my lip, calculating stuff in my head. “You’re right, I don’t know you, but I consider myself an okay judge of character.” He opened this door, it’s time for me to walk through it, “Can I ask you some stuff?” I ask innocently.

Peeta arches his eyebrows. “Shoot,” he says.

“How old are you?”

“45. I’m sorry. I knew you were young last night… I just didn’t quite grasp just how young,” his eyes shift downwards, sheepish and uncomfortable.

“I’m an adult. I’ve been the head of my family for years. At this point, age is irrelevant for me.” I state, dismissively.

“What about your family?” He asks, tilting his head sideways.

It takes me a minute to answer. I cross my arms over my stomach, and exhale, “It’s been only Primrose and I for five years now. My mother had cancer. My father passed when I was eleven.” I rock in my chair, slightly, “That’s why my sister was being such a clingy bitch last night. She can’t bear to lose anyone else. Neither can I for that matter.”

Peeta leans forward on his desk. “I’m so sorry to hear that, Katniss.”

I sit back, feeling like a huge weight just got lifted off my shoulders. “It’s okay, really. I’m back in school, about to finish my last semester, Prim is doing great in university, the only debt we have right now is Prim’s car and my Target card… we are actually okay,” I smile, meekly at him.

“That’s… that’s good, Katniss. Admirable, really.”

“Peeta?” I start cautiously, “Would you really remove yourself from the class because of me?”

He looks me right in the eye, sincerity emanating fro his eyes. “Absolutely. Without hesitation. As soon as you leave, I’ll email my Head of Department, explaining my situation. Don’t worry, I won’t mention any names or details—“

I shake my head, vehemently.

Peeta squints, studying me cautiously, measuring me.

“Please… stay with me…”

Something in my tone catches his attention, and he eyes me curiously. “I’ve already told you why I can’t,” he says, almost soothingly.

I stand up. Go around my chair, and drop back down into it. I start shaking my leg nervously. “I had this feeling in my gut since last night. Like I lost something precious, I just couldn’t put a finger on it… I still can’t, to be honest. All I know, in my loins, is that I can’t let you step down from your position, and I sure as hell won’t walk away on you without figuring out what this…” I wiggle my fingers, pointing to the mouth of my stomach, “feeling is about.”

He stares at me.

I stand up again, and this time I just pace, to the wall with the pictures, and stare at a bunch of faces, too similar to Peeta’s not to be related to him somehow.

“I know I’m not making sense, but I just needed to say that.”

He watches me for a long beat, weighing his options no doubt, before answering, “I can’t be your teacher, Katniss…” he sighs, and rubs his forehead, “because I’m afraid seeing you every week, without being able to touch you will be absolute torture.”

“Really?” I bite my lip, giving him an open once over, not feeling one iota self conscious about. “How come?”

Peeta huffs, avoiding my eyes. “I’d be wondering what your breasts look like the whole time.” He confesses, flatly. “I didn’t get a chance to see them last night, and it kept me awake an indecent amount of time.” He twists his lips, “I’m gonna be pinning the whole semester, whether you’re in the classroom or not, craving the taste of your juices in my tongue, and worse of all, I’ll probably embarrass myself, giving me involuntary hard on’s just fantasizing about you.”

I practically prowl towards him. “You poor thing,” I coo, pouting. “Would you go home to masturbate on the soiled pair of panties I left behind on that dirty, bathroom floor?” I ask… more like, purr, really.

Peeta chuffs out an incredulous laugh, covering his face with both hands. He grunts, “Aw, fuck! That sounds so… it’s probably exactly what could happen. I’d try to stay professional in the classroom, but in the privacy of my home…” he chuckles weakly, shaking his head.

“What kind of fantasies are we entertaining here?” I ask, invested, and sit on the corner of his desk.

Peeta thins out his mouth, “Katniss… that’s a slippery slope you’re trying to climb,” he warns.

“Humor me?” I cajole.

He takes a stuttering breath. “I’ll bring you into this office, same way I did today, except I’ll rip your clothes off, throw you on the desk and take you hard and fast. From behind.”

I can’t stop a small sound at the back of my throat, nor the need to rub my thighs together.

I clear my throat, “I expect you’d want to fuck me on every surface in this office?”

Peeta pulls on the collar of his shirt, his face turning crimson, “And probably the lecture hall as well,” he adds conversationally.

I nod, scooting closer to where he sits. “I’m curious too you know. I didn’t get to see ‘any’ part of you naked. But my muscles still are deliciously sore from last night. A girl has to wonder… just how big a dick has to be to cause so much wreckage?”

It doesn’t take much effort at all to work him up. Peeta’s pants are tented in what looks like the most uncomfortable erection ever; he shifts in his chair to try and hide the effect my words have on him, yet, his hands remain folded on his lap, white knuckled with the effort of keeping himself in check. He’s really committed not to touch me while I’m still his student, but he rasps a question, full of concern.

“Did I hurt you?” His eyes search me, earnestly. “I’m sorry I was too rough, really,”

My heart gives a little somersault. “No, Peeta. You were pure perfection. I loved how you handled me.”

His lips twitch, and I’m amazed at how expressive his face is, even partially hidden under his near facial hair. “You said you were hungry last night before you got on your knees…” I murmur, “I think, next time I’ll return the favor,”

“Next time?”

I slide closer to him, but we both keep our hands to ourselves.

I lick my lips, resisting the urge to drop on my knees between his legs and gobble up his cock. I didn’t lie about wanting to see him in all his naked glory, but I can show the same level of restraint he does; I respect him for trying to keep a moral and ethical compass.

I smirk at him, slyly. “Are you sure you wanna abandon your post as my professor, now that my education is on the balance? We can wait a handful of months, Doctor Mellark… I promise not to tease you,” With that, I mean, I promise not to aggravate what could potentially be the worst case of blue balls in the history of slow burns.

Peeta hisses a mirthless chuckle, “You’re too much of a temptation, even if you don’t actively try teasing me, Katniss,”

I start playing with the end of my braided, dark hair. “You know what I’m most really looking forward to, from when I’m no longer your student?” I pose, shyly, “Going to that dinner you mentioned last night.” I shrug one shoulder. “I’ll let you buy me a stack of pancakes to celebrate my graduation. I’ll probably introduce you to my sister, Primrose… and we’d go from there… if you wanted to…”

Peeta smiles, disarmingly. “I’d love that too, Miss Everdeen.” He says quietly.

I let go of my braid, and hug myself, “Stay in the class?” I practically beg one last time. “We can do it, I know we can. We can have a platonic, completely innocent teacher-student relationship until I’m done with college,”

Peeta shakes his head. “We’ll see after I talk to my head of department. Who knows, maybe all the schedules are already locked in place, and I have no other choice but to stay put. There’s no guarantee a replacement is available for me.”

“We’ll make it work!” I say enthusiastically.

“Maybe…” he sighs, not entirely convinced.

I pull my phone out of my pocket to check the time. Time is running out, I gotta get to the pharmacy before my window of opportunity closes.

“Hey, Peeta… um, invasive, weird question?”

I wait for him to nod.

“Have you by any chance, have gotten a vasectomy at any point?”

“Mmm no, never had. Why?”

Aw shit!

I bite the inside of my cheek. “Hopefully no reason.” I say quickly, too nonchalant for my own good, and he catches on it, I can see the gears turning in his brain, “Okay,” I make a big show of yawning and stretching my arms, “I have to run some errands before going home and crashing for the night.”

Peeta cringes, “Are you… okay? Really, okay? You said you were sore?” His eyes rove over my face full of concern.

“I’m fine,” I smile, “nothing a long soaking in Epsom salts can’t cure.”

“Okay,” he says, unsure. “I don’t want to overstep any worse than I already have, but… I’ve been anxious, wondering if you were alright, if you got home fine to your sister since you left the club. Which, obviously you did… but, I wanted to kick myself for not asking your number, just to be able to check on you… and this is frown upon, a d completely unethical, but—“

“I’ll email you,” I say quickly. “Nothing explicit. But I’ll let you know I’m home and okay.” I’ve spoken to people in code before, this shouldn’t be a problem, and really, sending my professor an email with a time stamp and some innocuous question about the syllabus doesn’t have to be nefarious at all.

“Alright… Just let me know if there’s anything wrong, okay? I swear this won’t become a routine thing or anything, just this time, to give me peace of mind, and because it is late… and well, yesterday…”

“It’s fine, professor. I don’t mind. And… everything will work out,” I say shouldering my bag and pocketing my phone, “everything will work out, even if my Plan B doesn’t,” I smile and scurry out the door, before the puzzlement in his face has time to settle.

After all, a semester is only 15 weeks long, give or take… that’s plenty of time to figure things out.

#alliswell21 #animekpopxx #prompt 144 #Springtime Edition 2021 #submission

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infinitegalahad · 3 years

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CARRIE!!!!! HELLO MY FRIEND 💜💜💜 hope you're having a lovely day (or night) haha. Can I get "dance with me?" and "i think i might love you" with Eugene Roe of course 🥺🥺🥺

MOONLIGHT SERENADE

Prompts: "dance with me? & "i think i might love you"

Summary: You and Eugene are madly in love with each other but there’s one problem; the two of you don’t even realize it. Babe and Renee step in.

Word-Count: 2.2k

Notes: KRYSTA!! I’m so sorry this is late ❣️ life has been crazy. I just got out of school and I’m bored as hell, so I’m doing some requests. I recommend listening to “Moonlight Serenade” By Frank Sinatra while reading. Hope you enjoy!

Taglist: @tvserie-s-world @easy-company-tradition @liebgotttme @50svibes @ricksmorty @cvrrahees-deactivated20210330 @pennyllanne @capsparkyspeirs @snafus-peckuh @contrabandhothead

Masterlist | Taglist | Send A Prompt!

The pretty things in life never fitted into your schedule. Growing up, you were a tomboy by heart. Your appearance and boys never phased you a bit. The older you got, the less you cared. You wore pants, were “unattractive” to most men, but it didn’t matter to you. Love was simply not for you. After all, no man would want you, and you accepted that fact, closing your heart off.

Enlisting in the war as a Radioman, there was no time for being pretty. Showers were non-existent and you would go days with blood stains on your clothes and grim under your nails. Still, you were just fine with that.

But your best (and only female) friend Renee was simply not okay with that, especially when it came hours before the military ball in Austria. The sun was setting when the two of you sat in your conjoined room. Both of you were dressed in nothing but your underwear as Renee attempted to comb through your messed hair. She was determined to make sure you were a whole new person within the next few hours.

“Ow-your pulling so hard!” You complained as Renee tightly rolled your bangs onto your forehead, securing the hair with bobby pins.

Renee patted your shoulder, “Shush, you are just fine. Look at you!” She forced you to look at the mirror with your face patted with eyeshadow and mascara and your hair in a half up half down. “You look magnifique, ma chérie!”

You cringed at the shit. Despite smelling nice, it was an alien feeling for you to feel pretty.”Yeah, I just don’t feel so magnifique let’s just say..”

Looking down at your hands, you can see the once bloodied and chipped nails now equally filed, coated with a bright red to match your lipstick and dress. Renee placed her manicured hands on your bare shoulders and gave them a tight squeeze,

“Get rid of that nonsense. You’re going to be la belle du bal!” She encouraged me, which earned a smile. Giving a freidney peck on your check, she leads you to the closest, “We haven’t even got to the best parts!”

“Parts. Two things? Renee, this is worrisome.”

Opening the closest, she revealed a beautiful ball gown. It was a bright shade of red that reached to the ground. It had short sleeves and a low breast line. Next to the dress was a small box. You didn’t even have time to question it as Renee grabbed the dress and put you in it. Eugene was right; that woman had magical hands. After putting the dress on, you tried to go to the mirror, but she stopped you.

“Renee!” You begged, “I think you’ve done enough for me.”

She laughed, “Hold on! Being around men has changed you. Let me add the finishing touches.” Grabbing you back, she clipped a necklace and earrings onto you, before letting you stand in front of the mirror. You didn’t even recognize the person in front of it. The makeup, the dress that displayed your curves, the beautiful golden earrings and necklace. The necklace had to have been the most stunning piece. It was a pearl choker with a golden pendant of Saint Maria Goretti.

“Wow…I…” You were at a total loss for words. For the first time in a year, you actually looked like a girl-or should you say a woman with your golden jewelry and red satin dress. “Renee, thank you. I…did you get these all for me?”

Renee waved her hands, moving her fingers back and forth, “See, magic hands! No, I did not. Your secret admirer did.”

You quirked an eyebrow. Who could that be. You saw the devious smirk on the Belgian nurse’s face, so you decided to interrogate her, “Who? Come on. Tell me!”

“A secret is a secret, ma chérie!” Renee nudged your shoulder. As you were about to question her more, a sudden knock at the door caused you too to spin over. The sounds of a thick Cajun and Philly accent could be heard for a mile away. You could recognize those from anywhere.

You knew Renee’s little plan. Your hearts ripped as your cheeks turned to the color of your dress, “Renee!” You gave her a slap, “You did not.”

“I did!” A spin of blue could be seen as Renee walked towards the door, forcefully dragging you so, “It’s about time for you two to make a move. Everybody has been talking about it.”

“Rumors are rumors. We both know Eugene well. He would never-”

Stepping on your foot, Renee opened the door with a wild smile and loudly. “Eugene! Babe! You’re just on time!”

Once you saw Eugene and made eye contact, you wanted to die. Not in a bad way, but with his dress blues on and sharp jaw, it would be the death of you. Eugene normally was one for not making eye contact, since he saw it was unformatting. But when he laid eyes upon, he could not look away as his pink skin grew redder by the second.

“You two look incredible! Holy moley!” Babe happily exclaimed, “We’re gonna be the luckiest guys in the whole wide world.”

Babe and Renee started up a whole conversation. Awkwardly standing there, you fidgeted with the necklace that had been given to you. It looked expensive, and it made your heart flutter. What man would give such a nice gift to you? As you thought of a list in your head, you felt a small tap on your shoulder. Looking up, it was Eugene. You flashed a smile and titled your head, “Doc. Pleasure to see you.”

Eugene observed you and nodded his head with his hands behind his back, “You as well, miss y/n.” He leaned in close to your ear, enough for you to inhale his smokey cologne, “You look absolutely stunnin’ tonight.”

“Thank you. You boys cleaned up well tonight,” You responded back as you felt your arms go numb. His cajun voice was so husky and as a whisper-good lord. “I’m gonna suppose Renee asked you to come.”

Eugene turned to see Babe and Renee smiling and laughing before turning back to see. His eyes made eye contact with the choker before he met with your eyes. “She did. I’m not complain’. I like you being’ my company.”

“Hey, lovebirds!” Babe called out. Renee looked back and gave you a quick wink as he held Babe’s arm. Eugene gave Babe a glare as he goofily smiled back, “Cmon-there servin’ beer. It’s a perk of civilization.”

“Last time you drank, it didn’t end well for you Babe. Guarno wants me to look out for you. Just to make sure you don’t end up with alcohol poisoning again,” You fired back with a little sass. Renee let out a laugh as Babe went red. Him and Renee walked forward, arm in arm. Babe looked flustered as he tried to defend himself to Renee, who simply was in a fit of giggles.

Eugene extended his arm out, nudging his head. “Shall we, miss y/n?”

You flashed a smile, melting your arm into his. One of your arms curved into his as your other rested in the center of his elbow, your fingernails gently tapping against me.

“Lead the way, Mister Roe.”

-----------

Placing the two drinks down, Babe let out a long sigh. Renee, with her chin resting in her palm, looked just as hopeless as Babe did.

“Nothing! Nada! Zilch.” Babe cried, running a hand over his forehead, “Did you tell y/n ‘bout the necklace?”

Renee slapped his shoulder, “I said a secret admirer. I mean, I thought she would know but...both of them are so stupid with love.”

Babe looked over at y/n and Roe. The two of you sat at the same table, awkwardly conversing with each other. The both of you were too shy to advance for something. Renee and Babe we're praying to their lucky stars for a miracle to happen.

“I mean-you see the way Gene looks at her. His eyes go all soft and he gets all smiley and shit. When we were in Paris, he just went on and on about her. After every beer, it was like...word vomit. Love vomit.”

Renee rolled her eyes, “Anything but that.”

“Hey! Let me tell my story. So, I gave him some advice. He saw that necklace and the pair of earrings, and told me that it would go well with Y/n’s skin. Told him to buy it. The poor man had nothing, but he’s willing to do anything for her. He’s just scared she’s too good for him.”

“That’s exactly what she thinks.” Renee saw y/n and Eugene smile at each other. Eugene stood up and gently brushed her shoulder and whispered in your ear. As he walked again, y/n turned over to look at him with awe in her eyes. It was obvious that y/n and Eugene were in love with each other, more than anything in the world. But even they, lovesick puppies, didn’t see their affection for each other.

As Eugene returned with his drinks, the lights in the room began to dim. Paratroopers and girls with pretty dresses began to pass him, hand in hand, into the middle of the ballroom floor. You looked up and saw them move. You looked down at your lap, unconfident. All these girls had a better chance then you with their natural femininity. You just never felt like a woman ever, and no matter what you did, you never were one. A true one, atleast.

Eugene saw your sadness and knew how to fix it. He tenderly tilted your chin up, moving a stray piece of hair behind your ear. You grew soft, your attention focused on him.

“Dance with me?” He quietly asked, holding out his calloused hands.

You took his hand with your manicured one as he closed your hand, tightly squeezing it.

“I’d loved too,” You replied kindly. Eugene nodded his head and led you to the dance floor. The familiar faces of men in the company struck you, with pretty girls in their arms. Stopping in the middle with the dimmed lights, Eugene snaked a hand onto the small of your back as you wrapped your arm around him, conjoining your free hands.

I stand at your gate and the song that I sing is of moonlight. I stand and I wait for the touch of your hand in the June night. The roses are sighing a moonlight serenade.

The first minute of the dance was quiet, but tranquil. You felt calmed by Roe’s mere presence. He was naturally such a kind person, and every time you saw him, your heart would grow a million sizes. He held you with such care and treated you like you were a sweet creature. You moved closer, leaning into his chest, feeling comfortable with the energy.

“Your nails-” Eugene blurted. You looked over and saw your hands. They were smaller than his, with smooth (y/s/c) skin and long red nails, “They look nice. Your hands are pretty.”

“Thank you, Eugene. You’ve been so nice to me all night. I’m sorry...I just haven’t even been with someone who’s so kind to me.” You explained, “Now tell me, are you the so-called secret admirer that Renee was talking about?”

The stars are aglow and tonight how their light sets me dreaming. My love, do you know that your eyes are like stars brightly beaming? I bring you and sing you a moonlight serenade.

Roe looked away for a second, like he was caught in the act, Biting his lip with rosy cheeks, he slowly nodded, “I do, ma’am.”

“Now, are you the southern gentleman who gifted me this fine necklace?”

Roe smiled and nodded, “Yes ma’am,” His hand moved lower on your body, playing with the fabric on the dress, “And the dress. I saw it and I didn’t care ‘about anything-I just’ thought you’d look prettier in it, ‘cause you already very pretty miss”

You froze and brought a hand to Eugene's face. You had a feeling in your gut it was him, but hearing his kind words made you melt. “Oh Gene, you’re too kind. Thank you for making me feel so pretty.”

“Of course, ma’am. I wanna see you happy and pretty.” Eugene bowed his head, “Can I also tell you somethin else?”

“Go on,” You advanced your head into his chest.

Let us stray till break of day In love's valley of dreams. Just you and I, a summer sky, A heavenly breeze kissing the trees

Pulling you close, he moved towards your cheek and once again whispered into your ear, “I think i might love you". He planted a trail of kisses from your ear to your cheek to your chin. Once he finished, you pulled away, holding his face in your hands.

“I think I love you,” You confessed as he leaned in your hold, which made you smile, “I wanna be with you for the rest of my days.”

“I do too, miss. Come home with me.” Eugene held your hands, with a begging look on your face, like a lovesick puppy.

Unable to say no, your lips curved into a faint smile.

“Of course, Eugene. Our home.”

So don't let me wait, come to me tenderly in the June night. I stand at your gate and I sing you a song in the moonlight, A love song, my darling, a moonlight serenade.

#band of brothers #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers imagine #eugene roe x reader #eugene roe imagine #eugene roe #carrie writes

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plainlo-inthemorning · 3 years

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A Loki TVA/Lokane fic. Rating T.

Previously: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4 (of 6)

Shine a Light, part 5

He is aware that the love of his life is digging her fingers into his arm and saying his name.

He is aware of Stark standing to his other side, visor off, speaking to someone on the phone. His voice is hard.

But most of all, Loki is aware that all their lives were just changed by a great big terrifying rip in the seam of reality.

Neither Jane nor the Avenger could possibly be completely sure of what they saw. Loki, as much as he desperately wants to, harbors little doubt.

The man he held in a death-grip only minutes ago and who just now disappeared through a doorway conjured out of thin air was somehow … himself.

Another him. Just as the man had said.

After witnessing from afar the double kiss Jane, Loki, who was coming back from a swim, had been more than ready to skip past introductions and just sever the intruder’s head from his body.

But as soon as he had laid hands on him, a torrent of images had flooded his mind – chaotic, confused images that seemed to span past, present, future and beyond.

The shock had made him lessen his grip and the double had used his (his!) magic to throw him off.

With some distance between them and Stark suddenly there as well, Loki had tried to let his rage quell the dizzying realization. Unsuccessfully.

He is still shaking, clutching a dagger in each hand. He drew them instinctively as the other made for the door.

He should have caught him!

“Loki! What did he say?!”

“What?” His thoughts are racing in too many directions to hear her.

“The … man, what was he saying to you?!”

Jane is looking up at him with those beautiful brown eyes, worry and urgency all over her delicate features. Though not fear, Loki notes. His ever-brave wife. Both her hands are now clamped around his wrist.

That thing kissed her.

The daggers disappear and Loki wraps both arms around the mother of his unborn child, almost crushing her to his chest while still staring at the spot where the double vanished.

“It’s okay. It’s okay, love”, he murmurs. He suspects things are very much not okay.

So does Jane, of course.

“Loki, was it … oof, not so tight … “

She wriggles against him, and he remembers his amor. And her condition. He immediately relaxes his arms a bit while letting the leather and metal melt back into the clothes he wore before: Black jeans and a fitted, dusty green t-shirt (his “rockstar outfit”, Jane had called it, when Loki first started switching up his human wardrobe some years ago now). Drops of saltwater still cling to the ends of his slightly curly raven locks.

“Tony! Jane, Loki! What on Earth was that?”

Pepper jumps out of the car parked in front of the house and runs towards them. She must have seen everything as she drove down the road following her flying husband.

“The verdict’s still out, Peps”. Tony nods at Loki. “You wanna chip in here? I just called the boy-scout at headquarters and told him to be on guard for one of the magician’s interns playing a prank”.

Loki shakes his head slowly.

“Unfortunately, I don’t think Stephen had anything to do with this”.

“You’re right, I didn’t”.

All four of them turn around to see the sorcerer step out of a swirling ring of light, his cape billowing around him. The mahogany floor and paneled walls of his Manhattan mansion are briefly visible behind him before the portal closes with a hiss of little sparks.

Strange is wearing an even sterner expression than usual which only adds to Loki’s growing sense of dread.

Tony, however, groans loudly.

“Dude, really? Couldn’t you at least have let us have dinner before party crashing? Not shaming your bachelor lifestyle or anything, but this was couples’ night!”

“Tony!” Pepper hits her husband on the arm.

Strange ignores him.

“I’m afraid the arrival of your surprise visitor indicates that a set of … unfortunate events have been set in motion”.

As always, his voice is as even as if he was reading the weather forecast, but by now Loki has learned to differentiate the (very) subtle nuances between scorn and sincerity. Strange places his hands behind his back and regards them coolly. “I’ve had Wong reach out to Doctor Banner and director Fury. They should be here shortly. Stark, you may want to-”.

Tony narrows his eyes, lip twitching.

“Hey, Bleeker Street, you know I have low tolerance for you showing up and barking orders without giving two f**** for context. How did you even know that something was going down here? By all means, don’t keep us in suspense until the cavalry gets here”.

Strange doesn’t answer, but the way his eyes dart to Jane sends needles through Loki’s heart.

“Let’s go sit down, shall we?” With one eyebrow raised, Strange puts on a suave smile and gestures towards the house. The effect is a little startling.

Jane ducks out from under Loki’s arms. “Jane, don’t you want to-“. She brushes him off.

“Yes, good idea, Stephen. Let’s go sit down”. She motions for Strange to follow. “Welcome to our home. I was actually making drinks before, but I think I need to add a bit more kick to them…”

Her voice is oddly calm, and Loki fights the urge to grab her and magic them both far, far away, not caring that she would be furious with him for making decisions on her behalf.

He’s brought back to the present by an even odder sound as Strange actually chuckles.

Loki is not sure he’s ever heard it before. Then again, it’s not that he really knows Strange when it comes down to it. Like Tony, Loki finds the wizard exceedingly arrogant.

Pepper is the first to follow Jane and Strange across the lawn while Loki and Tony hang back.

“Real ladies’ man when he wants to. Who would have thought”. The billionaire superhero scoffs. His suit has folded itself off and into a briefcase next to his feet.

“Tony-“

“Uh oh. First name basis. So this really is an emergency”.

Loki faces his friend. Often in the past years, as they’ve grown steadily closer outside of “work”, he has secretly marveled at how long they’ve come since someone threw someone else off a building after being called a diva.

And attacking a city with an alien army.

Jane always insisted the two “hotheads” (her word) had a lot in common when not trying to murder one another (be it with weapons or sarcastic commentary), and Loki has to admit she was right. The metal man is fiercely intelligent, and Loki has been enjoying the quick-witted snark between them infinitely more than he ever valued the company of Thor’s band of gullible warrior groupies on Asgard.

“Well?”. Tony is regarding him with eyebrows raised, expectant. “Give me your take on this cause I’m starting to put together some rather outlandish theories myself here that I’m kinda hoping you’ll thwart ASAP”.

Loki draws in a deep breath.

“That thing with Banner at the tower two years ago-“

“Fuck!” Tony exhales, exasperated. “I knew you were gonna say that”. He squints into the distance towards the ocean, his mouth a tight line. It’s a rare day that Tony Stark is caught under a clear blue sky without sunglasses but for once he doesn’t seem to notice.

Loki takes a step closer to him and lowers his voice so they won’t alert the others just yet.

“I told you then and you didn’t want to listen! Everything about Bruce’s story was off. I know he didn’t remember much after Steve took him down, but you all pretty much accused me of trying to get back at him for, well, you know what, and I kept telling you I thought someone had gotten to him! Now-“

Loki searches for the words. It’s beyond absurd.

“That man was a version of me, Tony. I have no idea how, but I felt it. I saw into his mind. It was filled with images from my past and then … other, recent memories. Dark ones. He came from nowhere. Literally. It didn’t feel like a place. I tried to discard it as a trick, you saw that, but…” Loki runs his hand through his moist hair. “Stephen obviously felt something tear open too. And that is not a good sign”.

He has Tony’s full attention.

“Tear open? Could this other you be associated with your old boss? With Thanos?”

Loki winces.

“No, I don’t think he’s involved”, he says sharply. “But I can’t be sure …”

Tony catches his tone pats his shoulder. “Okay, okay. Shake it off. Didn’t mean to suggest anything. Let’s say he’s not. I’d much prefer that, at least until the wizard presents us with an even uglier imminent threat to the universe. Which, judging by the fact that he’s even here, willingly sipping cocktails in your kitchen as we speak, he probably will”.

Tony throws his hands up with a dramatic air.

“And here I thought the most challenging part of this weekend would be to convince you two to come see Hamilton with us in the city next week!”

“Who’s-“

“Never mind. Did you get a look at that gadget your guy was holding? Boy, he looked like an office slave who’d slept under his desk for a month before getting fired, didn’t he? Were you ever into accounting yourself by any chance?”

Loki shuts his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. Immediately he sees the image of the double kissing Jane, his arms wrapped firmly around her supple body. Rage rushes right back through him and his eyes snap open.

“Stark - I can’t. But yes, I did notice the device. It looked like a phone”.

“Yeah, somehow I don’t think it was the new iPhone”.

Tony shakes his head.

“The two of us and we didn’t take him down. Fury’s gonna have our badges”.

The director of SHIELD and Bruce Banner arrive barely 15 minutes later through a portal in the middle of the meadow-like lawn, following Wong and both looking grim and out of place as they weave around patches of wildflowers to reach the porch.

“Gentlemen, I trust you’re well”. Loki greets the trio with an only vaguely sarcastic nod as he holds open the screen doors to them, like a good host. Despite what some may still think, he can behave.

He could have just used magic of course, but he figures Banner is freaked enough as it is just by being here. The scientist hasn’t spoken more than five words to him since 2014 and at least three of them were expletives.

Once inside the small living room, Bruce goes to stand by the window and busies himself polishing his glasses with a little too much vigor than seems warranted.

He avoids Loki’s eyes but looks up and smiles wearily as Jane comes over to say hello.

Fury leans against the doorframe to the hallway and crosses his arms, face a closed book, and, by the sound of it, Tony is going through the cabinets in the kitchen trying to find something to spice up Jane’s pre-dinner cocktails.

Pepper is talking to Strange and Wong on the blue IKEA couch (assembled by magic after the attempt to go at it “as a team” turned into a shouting match), and Loki is about to politely ask Strange to please spit it out right this minute, when Jane is next to him, taking his hand.

“We need to talk. Now”.

Her voice is low and steady but her eyes insisting. She squeezes his fingers.

He squeezes back. “Come”.

Loki looks to Fury but he’s focused on Strange who’s listening very closely to something Wong’s saying.

Not letting go of Jane’s hand, he turns towards the kitchen. In the doorway they pass Tony who’s now holding what appears to be a glass of scotch. He must have given up on the gin and tonics.

“Hey, where are you two going? Forget about playing hosts okay, let’s just get started with part two of the evening’s entertainment”.

“In a minute”.

Jane pushes past him, ignoring Tony’s look and dragging Loki with her.

She closes the door behind them.

“Okay, so…” Jane looks around nervously in the small kitchen with the rustic white fronts and old brass handles. She loves that kitchen. They haven’t changed a thing since moving in. Loki reaches for her, but she takes a step back. “Jane, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I should have gotten there faster. Did he …“

“I need you tell me exactly what he said to you”.

She is absentmindedly opening and closing her fists in the way she does when that brilliant astrophysicist mind of hers is working out an intricate problem in the lab.

Or, Loki knows, when she’s about to deliver him bad news.

He clears his throat. “He said he was me. And that something big was happening”. There. “And then he said he was sorry”.

Jane studies his face.

“That he was sorry? For what?”

“He didn’t say. He stepped through the door”.

Jane is quiet and now it’s Loki’s turn to try and read her expression.

“What did he say to you? I assume he pretended to be me …?”

Jane holds up a hand and bites her lip. Loki swallows.

“Loki, when we were staying at the flat in London, after we defeated Malekith…”

“What?” Loki furrows his brow in confusion. “Why are we-“

“The poison from the monster’s blade, it had you slipping in and out of consciousness for days. You were so feverish…”

“Yes, I know. I was there”. Loki’s blood is slowly turning very cold, but he musters a smile. “And you were amazing, love. Although some might say you took adv-“

Jane interrupts him in the middle of his blossoming smirk. A slight blush appears on her own cheeks.

“Yes, um, it’s not about that day”. She gives him a stern look. “The other day, later, when Thor left after you two went and had your, um, talk … there’s something I need to tell you …”

The door to the living room opens behind them.

“Actually, if you don’t mind, Doctor Foster, I would very much like to hear this too”.

Stephen Strange steps into the kitchen. The door closes behind him.

Part 6

#loki #loki series #lokane #tva loki #loki fanfic #loki ff #lokane ff #lokane fanfic #loki x jane #jane foster #shine a light #plainlo inthemorning #doctor strange #stephen strange #tony stark

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ordinaryschmuck · 3 years

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What I Thought About "Echoes of the Past" from The Owl House

Salutations, random people on the internet who most certainly won’t read this. I am an Ordinary Schmuck. I write stories and reviews and draw comics and cartoons.

What probably gets debated the most in the fandom is the legitimacy behind King being the King of Demons. Some believe that there's truth to his statement, while others, like me, like to think that he was just some stray Eda picked up off the streets. Either option seemed likely, especially since Season One never gave an answer that leaned one way or the other.

Then here comes the writers finally answering the question of who King is in episode THREE of Season Two! Because, again, they don't waste time on giving fans exactly what they want.

Fans wanted answers behind King, we got 'em, and analyzing what those answers mean requires going deep into spoilers. So if you haven't checked the episode out yet, I highly recommend that you do. Trust me, it's worth seeing.

Now let's review, shall we?

WHAT I LIKED

Luz Experimenting with Spells: Hey, look! More proof that Luz isn't an idiot like some people flanderize her to be!

But, seriously though, this is a perfect little thread to introduce into the story. Luz collecting knowledge from Lilith's old books and past work she and Eda made adds to Luz's intelligence while also providing a believable explanation for how she gets new spells. It's also nice to see that she has this little notebook (or spellbook) to help see what works and what doesn't. It's a level of experimentation that proves her dedication to becoming a witch while also exemplifying how she isn't stupid. Occasionally reckless, sure, but you can't say that the person who figured out an invisibility spell through showing her work is also an idiot.

Francios with a Knife: How did Francois get a knife? I don't know. But the fact that a random knife plopped out behind him with little to no explanation is funny, and I will not hear otherwise.

I don't make the rules. I just abide by them.

Luz’s Invisibility Spell: I breezed past this, but I honestly love this invisibility spell. More specifically, I love that there's a limiter. It can turn you, objects, and people you're in contact with invisible, but only as long as you can hold your breath. It helps make the spell something the characters can't always rely on, which is appreciated. Because if it works as long as they concentrate, what's stopping them from sneaking into Belos' castle and assassinating him in his sleep? It's a smart way of explaining why they can't always rely on something, despite how insanely useful it is.

Luz: Let's gush about Luz some more, shall we!

"Echoes of the Past" is another episode that has Luz on top form. She is constantly supportive of King, even if Lilith has a point in the dangers of indulging his fantasy as a powerful tyrant. Doing so would cause more harm than good, especially when King finds out Luz doesn't believe him, but her going along with it was all done with the best of intentions. Luz doesn't want to hurt her friend, and even if she did in the long run, she still makes up for it by helping King learn more about his past.

And, as another reminder, Luz isn't stupid. She's the first to say they should leave when it's clear how dangerous the castle is and is quick to figure out there should be more at the top. Luz is a loyal and caring friend who's also guarded and intuitive when the situation calls for it. This episode understood that, so here's hoping other fans will too.

Lilith: Yeah, she's still growing on me.

I feel like this episode shows a better idea of Lilith's place in the group more than the past two. She's a person who's obsessed with knowledge and learning but considers herself above the jovial nature of King, Luz, and definitely Eda. Therefore, she acts as the perfect catalyst for what jumpstarts this week's adventure. It doesn't surprise me in the slightest that she almost instantly dismisses King's claims due to considering herself more knowledgeable than everyone else. Still, I like how she's willing to believe King once she finally sees evidence that seemingly proves he really was the King of Demons, to the point of referring to him as "her lord." Hooty does the same thing, but it comes across as him fearing for his own life and choosing to be friends with someone who could maybe kill him in an instant. For Lilith, her newfound respect comes from the desire to learn more, and it's that desire that makes Lilith an enjoyable character to me. It's adorable to see, and it has some comedic flavor in moments like when she dismisses everyone else and their emotional revelations to take pictures of the carvings around her. I'm sure she'll cause some controversy like other characters with rushed reformations, but for me, I'm more than ok with her addition to the main cast.

More of Lilith’s and Hooty’s Friendship: HOW DOES THIS WORK!?

ON PAPER, IT SEEMS LIKE IT WOULD BE A BAD IDEA, BUT IT F**KING WORKS!

HOW?!

WHAT BLACK MAGIC DID THESE WRITERS USE TO MAKE A RELATIONSHIP SO UNEXPECTED COME ACROSS AS SO ENDEARING AND ADORABLE?!

And where can I get some for my stories...just asking.

But seriously: HOW?!

Hooty Making Himself Portable: Ah, yes. The classic bit where a character does something horrifically grotesque off-screen, and we have nothing but character reactions and sound effects to imagine what happened between shot A and shot B. It's an oldie, but given how hard I was laughing (mostly because of Luz's gagging), it's still a goodie.

Eda’s Portable Bathtub Boat Thing: I mean...I was expecting Eda would use something to catch up with the others, but...that thing...well...I mean, I'm still laughing just by thinking about it. That should tell you how well executed this joke was.

John Luke: ...I'm gonna go ahead and add him to the list because HOLY S**T was this guy disturbing! From his design to his movements to even the sounds he makes when moving, everything about John Luke screams as something that will stay in kids' nightmares for a while. Now, this might seem like a complaint, but to be honest, I'm more than alright with how creepy John Luke is. I highly doubt adult viewers will consider John Luke scary, but I guarantee he'll terrify some of the youngins that this series is aimed for. And that's fine. It's good to creep kids out a little bit with something somewhat scary, as it might introduce them to more good horror stories later in life.

Plus, the reveal that John Luke was only a guard for King is pretty solid narratively speaking. You can see how John never really meant to hurt King aside from one accident when Eda escaped with him. If you want to read into it, I guess it might be questionable to tell kids that something that looks dangerous is secretly nice, but that's really nitpicky, in my opinion. John Luke was a fantastic threat that is designed and animated well, with a solidly executed twist. Some might hate what he presents, most will fear him, but we can all agree on one thing: His theme is awesome (can I get the track for that, please)!

King’s Backstory: Finally, at long last, we know who King is, thus putting an end to a year-long debate. And I fully mean it when I say that the writers gave the best possible answer. Because in a way, everyone was right. Yes, King was just an animal that Eda decided to adopt, like the nature-loving hippie she is inside (She's got the hair for it). However, while he may not be the King of Demons himself, he is still the son of someone who deserves that title. So while he isn't the King, there's a chance he might be the Prince. Once again, there's no direct answer, but given how the writers came up with something that pleases everyone while still providing more questions for debate, it acts as a brilliant move, in my opinion. So whatever answer we get next, I'm sure it will be just as perfect.

Baby King:

My heart was not prepared for that level of cuteness!

King’s Breakdown: NOR WAS IT READY FOR THIS LEVEL OF SADNESS!

But in all seriousness, a HUGE round of applause to Alex Hirsch for his performance in this episode. He expertly captured the raw emotions of shock, anger, betrayal, and sadness that King must have felt when finding out that everything he believed he was is a lie. It's one of those moments where I don't hear a person voicing lines in a booth (or wherever the hell VAs are voicing characters nowadays), but instead hear a living person being emotionally torn apart. It was heartbreaking seeing King so vulnerable as he's so guarded with his emotions. Seeing him like this adds so much more layers to a character that many would mistake him as a cute, comedic animal sidekick. But just like with Luz, there's more to him than people will tell you.

“I don’t even know what’s real or fake anymore!”: I'm just pointing out this line because I believe it's what convinces Luz to help King learn more about who he is. Hell, not knowing what's real or fake is the main reason why Luz got sent away in the first place, so I feel like she can relate to King when he's in a similar predicament.

Hooty and Lilith vs John Luke: This was just a cool scene with some epic moments of dodging John Luke's attacks and some funny ones, like how Hooty said the word "pain." It's a ten out of ten that I would rewind to watch again.

King’s Other Horn: I'd question the logistics of how a horn that got broken off when he was a baby still manages to fit perfectly in the present...but it is neat symbolism of King accepting his past and letting it be a part of him, so who cares?

(The fact that the colors of the broken-off piece don't match the rest of the horn is nice attention to detail as well.)

WHAT I DISLIKED

It's a Little Too Predictable: I pretty much figured almost every little twist the episode offers. But, I'm willing to say that's because I'm in my twenties, and I've seen enough stories similar to this one, so I'm more likely to know what will happen. The little monsters watching this will see it for the first time, so they'll most likely get more surprised than me...And that was my only complaint about the episode...which is more of a personal problem than an actual issue...I guess that means it's perfect.

IN CONCLUSION

"Echoes of the Past" is an easy A+ in my book. It gives lore and backstory that furtherly develops the characters that episodes like this should. It also tells a tragic story about King that still sprinkles in a few good jokes every now and again to lighten up the mood. Sure, there are some nitpicks I could mention (how did King remember his own birth?). But when the good stuff is done so well, what's the point of dwelling on small, insignificant issues? This is still a phenomenal episode that flew past all expectations I had for it, and it continues the winning steak this season is having so far.

(But that's still three home runs in a row. Meaning that a stinker is coming. Ooiee, is it coming!)

#the owl house #the owl house season 2 #king of demons #luz noceda #lilith clawthorne #toh hooty #the owl house reviews #what i thought about

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flightfoot · 3 years

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I’m really hopeful for Sentibubbler helping to expand on Alya’s character (and hopefully Nino’s too, but I’m less certain on that). The small spoiler we’ve gotten on that front was Alya and Nino hugging, and I got the impression that Alya at least was upset, that it’s a comfort hug. Considering that the episode before this was Optigami, that a sentimonster had impersonated Nino in particular, had fooled Alya into making a grave mistake, I’m guessing that that hug is probably related to that.

With Alya, as with most side characters, we usually see her playing a supporting role, seeing her in the context of helping Marinette with her problems, especially any emotional issues. We rarely see Alya’s own struggles and thoughts on things not directly related to her concerns for Marinette.

This isn’t some unique thing in Alya’s and Marinette’s relationship, to be clear. It’s just more noticeable with her because she’s one of the more fleshed-out and important supporting characters. She DOES have a life outside of being Marinette’s friend, has her own hobbies and even a boyfriend who she loves and cares for very much. And we do see glimpses of her struggles and thoughts, though they’re brief, like in Puppeteer 2 when she looks at the statue of herself as Lady Wifi and thinks how strange it is to see herself like that, as a supervillain, with Nino recontextualizing the experience and comforting her.

Most of the characters get to express their thought processes and insecurities just within episodes where they’re akumatized, but since most of those issues are specific to the episode they take place in, it can be difficult to expand to the character as a whole, to ongoing issues they’re dealing with and their thought process as a whole. (Which does, naturally, differ based on the character in question; it’s pretty easy to infer that Marc is normally anxious and insecure about his talents, for instance).

So we’ve seen more of Alya’s character and personality, and even glimpses into her thought process, than most other characters, but not really much setup for a character arc. Many fans created character arcs for her, where she made grave missteps and only later realized she was wrong, but well... those were mostly Chameleon salt, and I think everyone knows what THOSE devolved into, especially with Alya.

But there’s been little to latch onto that’s actually in keeping with canon.

Gang of Secrets helped with that.

Most fics that came out around Gang of Secrets were based on two main plot threads that it set up: Marinette and Alya talking out the new revelation about Marinette being Ladybug, with Alya freaking out and fitting it in with all her previous knowledge, and trying to help in any way she can, and of course, the looming LadyNoir angst conflict, with Ladybug breaking the identity rule and Chat’s feeling about that.

The stuff with Marinette and Alya’s mostly been relegated to one-shots, as far as Alya’s own perspective goes. The longer fics based around Alya learning Marinette’s identity mostly have Alya helping out in other ways, like hooking up Adrienette. (I’m betting there are also some Lila takedown fics too, but I’m filtering those out as much as possible). There’s just not enough there in the initial premise of “Alya finds out Marinette’s identity” unless Alya’s doing something with it. Alya’s own feelings and revelations about Ladybug aren’t enough to sustain fics for long, not with what the show’s given us so far.

Optigami didn’t really add much to that, not yet. Both because the pressure of the hinted LadyNoir conflict is building and any emotional clash between the two leads is gonna receive more focus than stuff with supporting characters, and because, well... it’s not clear where Alya’s arc builds from here. There’s some potential setup, with Alya feeling bad about having made a call that went wrong, and Marinette trusting her anyway with even more than she did before, but it’s not clear what her thought process is gonna be as a result. We don’t know her as well as we know Adrien or Marinette, after all.

And... okay, this is probably a bigger one. But not as much changes for Marinette emotionally after Optigami, not that is easily inferred anyway. She’s gonna open up to Alya even more than she already was, but confiding in Alya like she did in Gang of Secrets already took most of that pressure off her shoulders. Letting Alya keep her Miraculous and... probably training her in Guardian stuff? Sounded like she might be doing that. Doesn’t change Marinette’s mental or emotional states much, not in a way that needs to be addressed and worked through, that causes conflict.

Most of that would be going on with Alya and Alya alone, rather than with Marinette. And since Alya’s not as major a character (she’s not the main protagonist or deuteragonist after all, despite her increased importance lately), there’s just not as much of a focus on stuff going on with Alya that doesn’t have a direct impact on one of our two main leads.

Sentibubbler looks like it might look at Alya’s feelings in more detail though, explore her emotional reactions to this kind of stress, which I think will prompt a greater understanding of her character, and, hopefully, a character arc, a trajectory that can be expanded on.

I have no illusions that she’d get as much attention as Marinette or Adrien - the story doesn’t revolve around her - but we’ve seen that other, more minor characters can get a lot of attention and have tons of character development and exploration stories thrown at them, if their deeper thoughts and feelings are explored and a clear trajectory for them is present, like with Chloe and all the fics exploring why she is the way she is, and having her grow past it into a better person.

I don’t know what overarching character arc that Alya might have, what the core of her story would be, but I’d love to find out.

#ml spoilers #sentibubbler #alya cesaire #miraculous ladybug #ml analysis

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retroknightx · 3 years

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hypmic headcanons

since nobody on my instagram appreciates me, i’m going to put them here, and it’ll be like a master post i can add onto that way anyway (which is convenient for me, because i keep adding on… yeah, it’s bad lmao. my notes document can only take so much) all of it will be under the line so you guys don’t just have a big ass post clogging your feed! to whoever my 4 followers are

starting with fling posse…

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Ramuda Amemura

He’s trans.

He has a superiority complex to hide his inferiority complex.

He also likely has a little bot of a god complex… Just a tiny bit… Not to the point it’d endanger his life, but to the point he can never admit he’s wrong (I suppose this can also count as the superiority complex).

He also has a little bit of a schoolboy crush on Dice… that has lasted far longer than he’d ever like to admit – not that he’d ever admit it in the first place – and he gets jealous over Dice.

He started his whole thing with girls, whatever it is, as a power trip, which also explains why he likes to cause so much chaos.

Since he used to smoke, he started candy as a way to stop smoking and it slowly replaced his smoking habit (as I have yet to see him smoke otherwise, but keep in mind I’m not far into the manga and mostly I’m going off the ARB story).

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Gentaro Yumeno

All writers are perfectionists (I’d know as one).

He’s probably very particular about the details and doesn’t like doing things without a plan.

He’s the lyric write for Fling Posse’s raps and does not enjoy making up lyrics on the spot; however he can if he must – This is also why he carries the book everywhere.

I honest to god don’t feel like he’s of this world and whatever his actual form is (irony in his rap name?), it scared Ramuda enough to create Fling Posse, so here they are.

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now for the dice ones… it’s gonna be long!

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Dice Arisugawa

He is, unfortunately, very oblivious to romantic approaches – especially from close friends such as his division members, for he’s been with them for so long that he can never imagine them falling in love with him.

He has abandonment issues/a fear of abandonment because his mother left him.

Speaking of his mother, Dice likely knows how to do “noble” things because he was raised by a politician; i.e. how to play piano and stuff like that.

Adding on top of that, I feel like Dice has an accumulation of many different skills from being all over the place – He learned how to do card tricks by watching others, and he probably learned bird calls from spending time with Rio.

He undoubtedly has ADHD (as a person with ADHD myself, you cannot tell me I am wrong)!

He’s well aware that’s he a leech, but he can’t stop himself because the addiction is stronger and he feels terrible about it; it’s why he often begs instead of anything else that would fit his character more.

He’s a very talkative person and often rambles to get his thoughts organized.

He doesn’t like being put into awkward situations or forced into silence because he is used the buzz of a casino and a busy city.

Relating to the ADHD canon, Dice puts his life on line not only for the thrill of it, but to keep his mind off of thoughts, and it’s also why he gambles; so he can focus on one thing.

He is numb to change because he’s a gambler.

He is very good at adapting to a new environment.

He doesn’t like being looked down up and that’s why he started gambling; to prove that he’s worth something.

He uses humor to cope if he can’t get his mind off of things with the thrill of gambling.

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Extras (Fling Posse all together)

Dice has weird limbs, so clothing fits him weird, and Ramuda started making clothes for them because of that.

Ramuda chased after Dice after he stole his signature parka and the Fling Posse star was embroidered on later by Ramuda after the formation of Fling Posse.

Ramuda likely pulls whatever strings he has access to to make life easier for his division members (not that it stops them from getting into trouble, that is).

Gentaro spends a lot of time away when writing and likely forgets he’s even alive during those periods, so his division members make sure he’s still taking care of himself when he gets like that.

They all piss each other off, but in a platonic love kind of way.

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moving onto matenrou! my favorite division <3

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Jakurai Jingui

Oh, my poor man’s so tired. He just needs a long break and a spa day; speaking of this, he likely doesn’t ask for help often – it’s the messiah complex he undoubtedly has.

His hair is too long for him to be taking care of it himself, and it definitely looks in fantastic condition, so he definitely takes good care of it – I just don’t think he takes care of it himself; I think he enlists the help of his division members (as I headcanon that Matenrou is in a poly relationship).

Jakurai’s matureness can sometimes get in the way of other things, such as emotional moments, and he can come off as cold or distant when he doesn’t mean to come off that way.

Unlike the other divisions, Jakurai wanted to really separate from his past, and that’s why he named his division Matenrou instead of reusing something from the past. He also probably doesn’t like talking about the past.

His hair is naturally silver, but the lighter shades that are nearly white underneath was caused by stress.

He gets cold quickly, which is why he always keeps the lab coat on, and it’s also why he wears a turtleneck.

Jakurai does live in the same apartment as Doppo and Hifumi, but he’s always so busy that he often can’t get there, so he ends up sleeping at the hospital; he also has a separate apartment of his own that’s closer to the hospital if he has free time, but he’s not off work/off work but still on call.

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Doppo Kannonzaka

Man, the first thing I thought when I saw him was that he has a choking kink. Enough said. He also likely has a praise kink.

If he didn’t have social anxiety and wasn’t so busy, he’d also probably be going over to Rio’s camp a lot. I think it’s because he’s so overworked that he doesn’t care about what’s in the food; as long as he gets it.

He’s probably passed out from exhaustion more than once and just got used to it.

Despite all his problems, he definitely wants to be known and he wants his name out there; he wants to be just like the other two and he definitely looks up to them already, but he aspires to be them.

He is so thankful for his divison members and he’s glad that they accepted him.

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Hifumi Izanami

Hifumi is a classic case of “fake it till you make it”; I really don’t know how he became one of the most popular hosts in Shinjuku, but it’s definitely about the fake confidence and the jacket is a comfort object for him that allows him to have that confidence.

He cooks all the time for his division members and he uses the catches from fish all the time, too. He even brings the lunches to their works for them.

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Extras

Since Hifumi’s always out so late, the others make sure he has everything he needs for whenever he wakes up and sometimes they wait for him.

They’re all in a poly relationship and I refuse to believe anything else; I mean, have you seen those “my room” dialouge in ARB? Fruity.

They probably all love to cuddle whenever they get the chance because they can’t do it often.

They definitely set up one day of the month for all of them to just be together.

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buster bros time!

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Ichiro Yamada

This may just be the Ichiro simp in me, but I think he has a very nice tummy that’d be nice to lay on; like a soft one if that makes any sense to anybody other than me.

He’s a very friendly person and if you’re close friends with him, he’s definitely loyal; he’d be willing to drop anything to help you kind of loyal, like he is to his brothers – all that, except the willing to die part.

I think he gets flustered easily and doesn’t know how to respond to compliments. That’s also probably the Ichiro simp in me.

Although he has to stop his brothers from ripping out each other’s throats all the time, he’s very proud of them and of their achievements, no matter what they are. He’s willing to praise them even for the tiniest things to make up for his absence in their lives.

He probably has a terrible sleeping schedule, but he could probably operate on pretty much anything. Two hours of sleep? That’s not an issue for him; he’s used to it.

He’s likely a cheapskate when it comes to himself, but when it comes to his brothers, he spares no expense if he can.

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Saburo Yamada

He has a superiority complex. I mean, just look at how he acts with Jiro – that’s enough proof right there.

He got into hacking and all of that computer stuff because it was interesting to him; he’s probably pursuing a career in it, considering just how good he is at it. I feel like he’d make a good white hat hacker that tests your website security, like Alma in Va-11 Hall-A.

Call him a library, because he holds grudges for years.

I think he just likes picking arguments because he think it’s funny and there’s nothing better to do when you’re stuck with your brothers (as somebody with a sibling myself, I can attest to that).

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Jiro Yamada

Anger issues. Yep, that’s it. That’s the headcanon.

Man probably goes dumpster diving to see what kind of treasures he can find; his room is probably full of that kind of junk.

He probably has greasy hair. It doesn’t matter how much he cleans it, it’s just greasy (as somebody with the same issue, go clean your pillows Jiro).

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Extras

Ichiro has to hold Jiro back from just punching Saburo all the time.

God, somebody save Ichiro from his siblings; with how much they bicker, he probably has taken so much ibuprofen to stop headaches in his life that he should be considered dead from an overdose.

Despite being assholes to each other, they all help each other out – Saburo helps Jiro with his work, Jiro helps Saburo with whatever he can’t do, and Ichiro takes care of the rest. It’s the only thing keeping their bond together.

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mad trigger crew, my beloved.

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Rio Mason Busujima

Rio’s very stoic and that often doesn’t break, so it’s very rare to see a smile on his face. He has different smiles for different things too – there’s the business one; one so he doesn’t look as intimidating, and the actual genuine smile that’s very rare to see, but it happens when somebody appreciates his food.

Rio’s not good at understanding emotions and it takes him awhile to process emotions; he goes quiet in these moments and it can be confusing for those who don’t know him, but once he’s thought everything out, he’s very smart about responding.

He’ll never fully adjust to a life outside of the navy and military.

Opposite to Dice, he finds the buzz of a city to be too distracting for his thoughts and he enjoys his solitude, but he doesn’t mind company at all.

Due to how his unit was broken up, he refuses to abide by H law and keeps his gun on him. Even Rio can be spiteful. However, he mostly uses it for hunting, which is why he’s so far out in the forest.

He definitely has a lot of scars and that’s why he often wears his fatigues; he doesn’t wana come off as off-putting. His cards without the jacket did him so dirty. Of course he’d have scars from fighting in World War 3.

He can come up with strategies on the spot and is a very quick-thinker when it comes to combat.

Despite how ruthless he is when it comes to rap battles and being an ex-navy, he’s actually a very gentle soul.

I feel like he’s asexual, but homoromantic.

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Samatoki Aohitsugi

He only uses the bad guy persona as a way to be left alone, but he’s actually a very kind person.

Despite being a yakuza, he actually abides to the H law and it’s probably only because of Nemu (however, this is only based off of the anime, so I can’t say for certain, but I haven’t seen anything in the manga disproving otherwise yet).

I just feel like he eats a lot throughout the day. I can’t explain this one, but he has the vibes.

He also knows how to cook quite well himself, and he does it for his division members sometimes.

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Jyuto Iruma

He’s very cocky because he knows he can get away with things; I mean, he’s the authorties, why wouldn’t he get cocky about what he can do? However, it’s somewhat annoying to Samatoki.

If he wasn’t a gay bastard, Samtoki and Rio probably would’ve been arrested long ago. Thankfully for them, he is a gay bastard.

He likes looking good no matter what; it helps his confidence, so he dresses up to go out anywhere.

His glasses are probably just reading glasses.

He likes spending money on expensive things.

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Extras

Samatoki and Jyuto are in a relationship. They’re so fruity that I’m sure I don’t have to explain this one.

Samatoki doesn’t approve of Rio dating Dice at all and it’s only because of Jyuto that Dice is still alive.

Rio is pretty much their marriage counselor; he has to constantly deal with them bickering, so of course he is. He’s pretty much the adopted child to save their marriage.

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Ships

Riodice

Samajyu

Poly Matenrou

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i will likely make a separate post for the ship headcanons because this will be much longer, but i think this covers all of them anyway, so here you go. enjoy.

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kissinginkitchens · 3 years

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You Bring Me Home—Chapter Two: Where the Heart Is

a/n: Thank you so much for all of the love you have shown to part one! I’m so glad to see that you’re enjoying YBMH so far, the story is just getting started. I hope you’ll stick around for the full thing, so without further ado, here’s chapter two! As always, my inbox is open so feel free to come chat with me when you have finished this part :) Much love, Mel <3

Pairing: Hawai'i!Harry x Original Character

Warnings: swearing, mentions of drug use

Word Count: 5.1k

read part one here

The phone screen flickers to life at the touch of Harry’s finger, flashing the exact same time that it had the last time he checked, though it feels like hours have passed since then. He sighs at the disappointing revelation and turns his phone over so that the screen meets the aged wood of the piano where it rests. In all honesty, Harry has no idea why he agreed to the interview in the first place. He had skillfully dodged the hundreds of requests for an exclusive tell-all following the untimely split of One Direction and successfully avoided the prying eyes of the general public for several months. So why had he indulged the first request from a girl he hardly knew without so much as a blink? The answer seemed a frustrating mystery to him, but to anyone else, the fluttering in his stomach when he caught a glimpse of her yellow Ford Bronco pulling up to the studio and the way he instinctively raked a hand through his hair gave the answer away.

“I know I’m late, I’m sorry!” Alani apologizes, emerging from the car with a notebook nestled under her arm and a smoothie in each hand. She closes the door with her hip before making a beeline to the studio entrance where Harry stands, his right shoulder leaning against the doorframe with the same stoic expression Alani recognizes as his signature look.

“I had to get my sister to cover for me at the café and then I got lost because Google sent me to a Napua restaurant instead of the recording studio,” she rambles in an attempted continuation of her apology. “But anyway, this is for you. A peace offering and a thank you for doing this.”

Harry gingerly takes the green smoothie from her outstretched hand and offers a curt nod in response before ushering her inside.Alani pushes her sunglasses up and settles them into her windswept waves, trailing behind Harry and taking in the space. In one corner across the room, she notices a couple of brightly colored tapestries thumbtacked to the wall with a microphone stand perched in the center, all encased behind a screen of plexiglass. The adjacent wall is lined with guitars all standing at attention and glimmering, despite the dim lighting. Harry stops at the doorway of another room with a couch and a coffee table, the floor littered with wires and pieces of crumpled paper. He motions Alani to step inside and then clears his throat, which catches the attention of two other long-haired men chatting with amused expressions on their faces.

“Sorry lads,” Harry crosses his arms with eyes glued to the floor to avoid their questioning stares. “‘Fraid I have to intrude. Can we have this room?”

One of the men grins behind a full beard, popping a peanut M&M into his mouth before standing. “Sure thing, boss man. Let’s bounce, Rowland.”

The other man, also bearded but smaller in stature with a thin, pointed nose nods silently. He continues twirling two drumsticks between his fingers and points one of them at Harry in passing. Alani offers polite smiles at the both of them, and a quiet “thank you” falls from her lips as they exit without another word. Harry closes the door behind them and gestures to the couch, which she takes as her cue to sit.

“I like the uniform,” Alani smiles, gesturing to her hair as a comment on the fact that the three men all share similar lengths and styles.

“Thanks,” is all Harry says, taking a seat across from hers and clearly dismissing her attempt at humor.

To pacify the urge to fill the uncomfortable silence, Alani sips her strawberry smoothie and steals a glance through her eyelashes at Harry who is doing the same. She clears her throat after a minute and sets the drink on the table in front of her; a notebook takes its place on her lap.

“Thank you again for doing this, I really appreciate it,” Alani offers while digging through her bag for her phone. “I’m gonna record this on voice notes, just for the sake of quoting you accurately.”

“Sure,” Harry replies, occupying his gaze with the condensation trickling from the cup onto his fading black jeans.

Dry retorts from everyone else, especially customers, have little effect on the way Alani conducts herself. But every short comment from Harry, or lack thereof, makes her feel like a bug under a microscope. She settles her phone onto the coffee table and takes a deep breath to calm the trembling that spreads from her chest into her fingers and toes.

“So first, I wanted to ask about your time in Hawai’i. Are you enjoying it so far?” Alani poses the question lightly, hoping to open him up just enough to extract the story that she’s really looking for.

“It’s nice,” Harry nods, finally meeting her expectant stare. When she doesn’t respond for a beat, he clears his throat and adds on to the statement. “Weather’s good,”

Alani musters a half-hearted smile and glances down at the questions on her page. This is going to take for-fucking-ever, she sighs.

“Is that what drew you here—vacation? Getting away?”

“Yeah, pretty much,”

The row of guitars behind the singer catches her attention suddenly and guides the next question.

“And to write or.. record?”

Harry shifts in his seat, calculating his response carefully. “Both,”

“Solo stuff?”

Alani watches as he takes a slow sip of his smoothie and crosses his legs, an action which tells her that she’s struck a dead end. Or, at the very least, a door that she hasn’t gained his trust to open yet.

“You were with One Direction for half a decade,” She recovers. “Constantly releasing new music and touring. But now you’re here, doing neither, and haven’t done so for almost a year. What is that transition like?” Alani isn’t sure if Harry will answer when she poses the question, but to her surprise he meets her gaze and nods, as if to say that he accepts the inquiry.

“It’s different than anything I’ve ever done, for sure,” he starts slowly. It’d be a lie to say that he hasn’t given the breakup and, subsequently, his future outside of the band much thought. He thinks about it every day, especially his bandmates and their supportive fans. That much he has been able to unpack privately, but the rest of it—the sudden need to escape and write new music— is still something he can’t quite put into words, so he leans into the nostalgia and hopes it’ll suffice.

“Like you said, it’s been non-stop for the past five years, so I guess it is a bit jarring to come to a sudden halt after so much momentum. Obviously, it’s nice to have the time off, but I love putting out music and touring it. I wouldn’t trade that for anything,”

Alani is grateful to have more than a couple of words of material, despite the fact that it doesn’t really answer the question or tell her anything new about the man sitting crossed legged and closed off in front of her. Looking through her notes, Alani selects another question and embarks on a new angle.

“You were really young when all of that began,” she starts, thinking about how she could never have left her family and home at just 16. Hell, she was 22 and still figuring it out. Hopefully, if all things went well with this interview and Rolling Stone, she would finally find the opportunity to do it. “Do you ever think about where you would be if you hadn’t auditioned for X-Factor?”

Harry knows that she’s playing it safe, trying to feel him out and test the buttons she can push. He also knows that he’s being difficult, much more so than usual due to his nerves. So with an unfamiliar pang in his chest, he decides to relent the tiniest bit.

“Well, I’m starting to think maybe I could’ve been a professional surfer,” he offers matter-of-factly which makes Alani flash an amused grin. Harry’s sudden humor makes the room a bit less suffocating for the both of them and she’s grateful for it.

“Surfing, huh? This I have to see.” she quips back, suddenly trying to picture him ditching the black skinny jeans for a wetsuit.

He nods with a faint smirk. “Maybe you will.”

Alani meets his gaze with a shy smile of her own and her eyes fall to his lips for a brief second. The almost imperceptible action sends another foreign jolt through Harry’s chest. She opens her mouth to resume questioning when a loud bang startles them both and causes Harry to spin in his seat, looking through the glass window of the sound booth.

“Sorry!” A man with short, blonde hair and a fading tie dye shirt laughs while lifting the tipped over drum cymbals. “Don’t mind us!”

The two men from earlier straggle in behind and poorly conceal their own fits of laughter. Harry flashes his middle finger briefly, mouthing something that Alani can’t see but knows is undoubtedly rude. She suppresses a giggle and sneaks a glance at her phone, which indicates only a few minutes worth of dialogue. When she lifts her head, the door opens and the blonde man peeks his head in.

“Hello,” he greets with an extended hand before entering and taking a seat next to Alani on the couch. “Tom Hull, or Kid Harpoon...or just Tom, whatever you like best,”

She accepts his hand eagerly, not missing the way Harry pinches the bridge of his nose in her peripheral vision. “Mahealani Hale, or just Alani. Nice to meet you,”

“Wow, beautiful name,” Tom compliments. “Sorry to interrupt, I didn’t realize you had company, H,”

“She was just—”

“I’m writing about-” The two speak at the same time, making brief eye contact before Harry turns his attention back to Tom.

“Did you need something?” He asks. Tom’s eyes dart between Harry and Alani before he clears his throat and reclines in his seat.

“Just dropping by to see if you wanted to go for lunch...” he trails off, which Alani takes as a cue to start gathering her belongings.

“Kind of busy here,” Harry offers with a glance back at the girl seated awkwardly across from him. “Another time,”

At this, Tom turns to Alani and ignores his friend’s protests. “Alani, do you eat lunch?”

Before responding, she casts an apprehensive glimpse at Harry who has suddenly become very intrigued by the drink in his lap, purposefully avoiding her eyes.

“Uh.. well yeah, but I don’t-”

“Great! Have lunch with us,”

“Mate—” Harry speaks up.

Tom grins, shrugging. “What? You plan on starving the poor girl?”

“I really can’t, but thank you for the offer,” Alani explains with a sheepish smile, standing and slinging her bag over her shoulder. “It was really nice to meet you Tom. And thank you again, Harry, I’ll see you around.”

The musician watches her shuffle out of the sound booth quietly and turns his attention back at Tom, who sits with an incredulous look on his face.

“What the hell’s wrong with you?” He asks, standing. “Go after her, dickhead!”

“It’s not like that she’s-”

“I really don’t give a fuck about your excuses, go!”

Harry scoffs and rolls his eyes, looking out the window as Alani slips through the front door.

She fishes her keys out of her bag and sighs when a familiar voice says her name.

“Alani!” Harry calls from the doorway, shielding his eyes from the afternoon sun. He makes his way down the steps and over to the driver’s side where she ghosts the key over the ignition.

“Come have lunch...please?”

“It’s okay,” she purses her lips together politely. “I don’t wanna get in the way,”

Harry catches his lower lip between his teeth and runs a hand through his hair, choosing his next words thoughtfully.

“No, you’re not—you won’t,” he starts. “I would really like it if you joined us for lunch, especially since our time got interrupted. Please, let me make it up to you.”

Alani can’t help the way her stomach flips at the words “our time” that fall from his lips and she finds herself nodding in agreement before her mind has had a chance to intervene.

She makes her way to the passenger seat of the Range Rover parked behind the studio, which she learns is where all of Harry’s entourage keeps their vehicles. A variety of brightly colored vintage cars are neatly parked, and it amuses her that Harry skips all of them, instead going straight for the black SUV with darkly tinted windows. At least he’s consistent, she smirks. As Alani climbs into the car, she is met by the warmth of Harry’s scent—something woodsy and vanilla— and the fact that she recognizes it makes her heart pound.

“You can connect your phone,” Harry nods to the stereo as he buckles his seatbelt. “To the Bluetooth, I mean, if you’d like.”

“Really?” she asks, brow raised in mild disbelief.

“Only if you play something good,” he teases with a stony expression, adjusting the sunglasses on the bridge of his nose. Alani takes that as a challenge, scrolling through various playlists as Harry peels away onto the main road. Over the speakers, the beginning of “Don’t Worry Baby” by The Beach Boys surrounds the two of them.

“Is this to your liking, my liege?” Alani poses in an exaggerated British accent that makes Harry cringe, though the small grin on his face gives away his endearment.

“Yes, but please don’t do that accent ever again,”

“So you admit it, you’re the one with the accent,” she wiggles her brows, eyes peeling away from the view out her window to Harry in the driver’s seat.

“If it’ll get you to never do that one again, sure,” “Dunno, love,” she continues, watching the coast shimmer under the afternoon sun. “Think it kinda suits me,”

Harry shakes his head and checks the rearview mirror to make sure that he hasn’t lost Tom, Mitch, and Jeff in the car trailing behind.

“What’s it like?” Alani questions, studying the perfect slope of his pointed nose and strawberry pout.

“What’s what like?”

“England,”

Harry thinks for a second, recalling his London flat, lunches with his mum and sister, the streets of Trafalgar Square, and Abbey Road.

“Rainy,” is all he says.

Alani scoffs, which draws his attention over to where she lounges in his passenger seat, sitting comfortably as if it was exactly where she belonged. “That’s all?”

“What?” He questions, though he knows exactly what she means and is perfectly aware of his own stubbornness.

“Just seems like... I don’t know, such a generic description for a place you consider home,”

Harry mulls her response over, the word “home” especially catching his interest. It’s a strange concept in his mind because while, yes, England is where he has spent the majority of his life and where the people he loves most reside, he has never truly felt connected to just one place. And after spending his formative years traveling the world, who could blame him?

“It’s... safe,” he tries again, attempting to verbalize what he’s feeling. “When I’m there, I mean, I feel safe. Like I don’t have to be anyone or do anything specific, I can just... be. No expectations,”

Alani lets Harry’s words sit between them for a moment, sensing that there is still more he wants to say. When she doesn’t respond after a minute, he continues in an effort to clarify and fill the lull in the conversation.

“I used to think that London was just a starting point and that if I could make it to LA, it would mean that I had really made it, and I would feel more at home there,” he continues, slow and calculated. “But I dunno... when I’m there it still feels like an extended holiday, like I’m just buying time until I leave for the next place. London doesn’t feel like that, feels much more constant... so yeah, I guess it is home,”

As if she had read his mind earlier, Alani adds on. “Not to mention that’s where your family is, I’m assuming,”

Harry nods, once again thinking of his mum and sister. The image of their beaming faces brings the shadow of a dimple to his cheek. “Yeah,”

“What’s your family like?” She continues, truly interested and forgetting for a moment about the article she still has to write.

“Kind of small, I guess. S’really just my sister and my mum, but they’re,” Harry pauses, searching for the right words, “They’re the best. My mum’s probably the kindest woman I’ve ever met. Feel pretty lucky with that one, considering what a pest I was as a child,” he chuckles lightly and it’s a sound that Alani hadn’t heard up to this point, but one she knows she’ll replay in her mind over and over again.

“Gem’s pretty patient too—and brilliant, always the studious one,” he adds finally, a dreamy look on his face that Alani much prefers to the stoic one he always dons. .

“Ah yes, there’s always one,” she nods, catching the quirked brow he offers in response.

“Oh yeah? Are you the one in your family?”

“I guess so. School just seemed to come easily to me,”

“And what made you want to study journalism?” He questions, stopping to let a woman and her toddler cross.

Alani thinks about it for a moment while twirling a strand of fabric from the hem of her ripped shorts around her finger.

“I’ve always loved to write, ever since I was really little— like short stories and stuff. And I don’t know, I guess I like the idea of traveling and seeking out a story, too.”

Harry nods understandingly, pulling up to a curb across the street from a restaurant that Alani has frequented. It’s relatively empty at Pineapples for a summer afternoon, though most tourists don’t stray too far from the beaches, so Hilo maintains a healthy local population at all times. The pair climb out of the car and Alani makes her way to the rear where the rest of the group has parked. One of the men from earlier greets her with an outstretched hand while Harry chats with the other two that emerge.

“Hi I’m Jeff, it’s nice to meet you.” He smiles warmly, pushing his sunglasses into his hair.

“Alani. It’s nice to meet you, Jeff,”

“Sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to be rude by not saying hi it’s just-”

Alani dismisses his concern with a wave of her hand. “Oh don’t worry about it! I was kind of nervous then, too. I don’t know if he told you, but I’m interviewing Harry,”

“Oh, right! Yeah, he did mention that I think,” Jeff recalls, “Which magazine are you with?”

“None.” Yet, Alani thinks, her mind wandering to the Rolling Stone rejection letter. “It’s for a class, I’m a journalism major. Harry was just being nice and agreed to let me write about his music,”

Jeff nods. “Got it. You know, he’s not normally this serious. Just got a lot on his mind but he’ll loosen up,” he explains quietly just as Alani and Harry’s eyes meet. She quickly averts her gaze back to the kind, bearded man standing before her.

“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.” she smiles appreciatively.

“Where’s Jeffrey?” Harry speaks up, catching her attention. She looks back to Jeff, confused, before he shakes his head.

“Other Jeff, his manager.” He explains.

“Probably already inside, he said he’d meet us here.” Mitch pipes up.

With that, the rest of the crew head into the restaurant while Alani stays a few steps behind to follow their lead.

“Y’okay?” Harry asks, shuffling along beside her.

Alani startles slightly at his unexpected presence, but relaxes as their strides fall into sync.

“Yeah, thanks. And thank you for the invite, too.” She offers, the corners of her mouth upturned softly. Harry responds with a tight-lipped smile of his own and clears his throat before holding the door open for her.

In the far corner of the restaurant near the open balcony, Harry’s manager Jeff waves the group over to the table he saved. Everyone exchanges greetings and settles into their seats, the two at the end facing each other remain open for Alani and Harry.

“Jeff, this is..Mahealani, did I get that right?” Tom gestures to Alani for approval.

She nods and waves. “Yes, but you can just call me Alani,”

“Nice to meet you,” Jeff calls from the other end of the table, glancing over to Harry in search of an explanation for her presence.

“I’m writing a piece about Harry and his music,” Alani offers. “But I’d love to talk to all of you, if you have a chance.”

Jeff nods, still shooting Harry a knowing look. “Yeah, sure thing.”

The two Jeffs, Tom, and Mitch engage in their own conversations, mostly inside jokes that go over Alani’s head. Harry watches, silent for most of the interaction and barely engaging the girl seated across from him, though he is overwhelmingly aware of her presence. When the server comes to take their order, warmth floods to Alani’s cheeks.

“Alani, hey!” the tall server greets, flashing a handsome, pearly-white smile. “Long time, no see. You’re looking good as always,”

“Mahalo, David. You look good, as well,” She smiles politely, catching onto the way that Harry sits a little straighter in her peripheral vision. David still pays no regard to the rest of the table, but his gaze momentarily flickers over Harry and sizes him up before returning to Alani.

“Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t realize you were on a date,” he apologizes, which makes Alani’s eyes bulge and Mitch snicker beside her.

“Oh no, we’re not—“

“He’s just—” Alani and Harry speak at the same time, eyes darting to one another before she explains.

“I’m... working on something—an article,” she says, and David nods understandingly.

“Oh...right. Big-shot reporter, I almost forgot,” David teases in a snide way that makes Harry’s blood boil with annoyance. “Anyways, what can I get you all? The usual for you, right Alani?”

She nods curtly while the rest of the group take turns ordering. After the server has gone, Harry notices a shift in her easy-going demeanor and decides that it’s his turn to break the ice.

“Come here often then?” He poses gently, taking a sip of his lemonade.

Her lips press into a tight line as her eyes wander to the other patrons. “Yeah, kinda,”

“Asshole ex-boyfriend ruined that, I’m guessing?”

Alani lets out an amused breath and shakes her head.

“He’s not my ex. I mean we went out, like, once in high school... and maybe a handful of times in college but that’s it, really,”

Harry studies the uneasiness in her expression trying, and failing, to understand what she’s holding back.

“Seems like you dodged a bullet,” he confides, leaning in. Alani’s eyes meet his and her pursed lips ease into a small grin, which Harry mirrors with a simper of his own. As he rests his smooth chin in his palm, she notices a large, healing scab along the underside of his forearm, and her brows furrow.

“How’d that happen?” Alani asks.

“He jumped out a window,” Mitch intervenes. “Though to be fair, he was high,”

Harry shoots a deathly glare at Mitch and turns back to Alani. “It was a one-time thing.”

“It was shrooms,” Mitch replies with an amused smirk.

“Hardcore,” Alani giggles lightly.

Mitch swirls the straw in his mimosa with his index finger while extending a pinky at Alani. “You do drugs?”

She shrugs, taking a sip of her Mai Tai. “Smoked weed a few times, though not enough to consider myself a pothead, I guess,”

Mitch snorts and steals a glance at Harry. “Pot makes our boy sleepy, and hungry. Alcohol makes him giggly. Shrooms get him buzzed just right,”

Harry’s cheeks flush and he averts his gaze past Alani where families and visitors roam the streets outside.

“Jumping out a window’s ‘just right’? I’d hate to see what going overboard looks like.” she teases, watching the blush of embarrassment creep across the bridge of Harry’s nose and cheeks.

“Keeps things interesting.” Mitch shrugs, turning back to Jeff to join his previous conversation.

Alani feels a strange sense of endearment wash over her at the thought of a giggly Harry, dimples replacing a deeply furrowed brow. In the short time she’d known and served him at the café, she’d only ever seen him reserved—polite, at best. Alani had hoped that interviewing Harry would provide some insight into his mysterious background, but she didn’t imagine that she would want to know more than what could be penned in her article. In the few minutes spent mingling with him and his friends, she began to think that maybe there was something worth getting to know, not just professionally, but before she can give it a second thought, David returns with their food.

“Thanks, Derek.” Harry says, flashing a facetious grin at David who stands confused for a second before sauntering back to the kitchen. Alani laughs, quickly clasping a hand over her mouth, and Harry’s stomach flips at the sound. He immediately wishes he knew what else he could do to hear it again.

Alani scrapes the last bits of potato off her plate and leans back in her seat, patting her growing food baby.

“I’m thinking of naming mine Oliver, you?” She sighs contentedly.

“Anne, after my mum,” he quips back, pulling out his wallet.

Alani reaches into her bag for her own, but Harry shakes his head and speaks up. “Don’t worry about it, ‘s on me,”

“Oh, no Harry you really don’t have to—”

“I don’t mind,” he shrugs, slipping his card onto the small clipboard attached to their receipts.

“Thank you,” Alani smiles, feeling warmth spread through her limbs, but she assumes that it’s mostly due to the rum in her system.

Harry pushes a lock of hair behind his ear and returns the wallet to his back pocket without another word. While there is no alcohol coursing through his blood, he refuses to believe that the burning in his cheeks has anything to do with the girl seated before him.

Alani climbs back into the passenger’s seat of the SUV while Harry settles behind the wheel. He braces his right hand behind the headrest of her seat and skillfully reverses, only becoming aware of their proximity when he turns back to switch gears. Alani peels her eyes from his and focuses on finding a playlist for their journey back to the studio, her mind racing as she clicks shuffle. Harry’s arm retreats, much to Alani’s disappointment, and his ears perk up when he hears the familiar chimes at the beginning of Fleetwood Mac’s “Everywhere”.

“‘S a good one,” Harry breaks the silence, tapping on the steering wheel. “Christine always says it’s her favorite,”

“Christine...McVie?” Alani questions with an eyebrow quirked. “You know Christine McVie?”

“Kind of,” he shrugs, the corners of his lips twitching into a smirk.

“Do you know Stevie Nicks?”

“Yeah. She lives in London,”

“Holy shit!” Alani marvels, covering her mouth in excitement.

Harry chuckles lightly, stealing a glance over at Alani still processing the news. “Big fan?”

She whips her head away from the window and scoffs. “Massive. Named my car Stevie, actually,”

“Hardcore,” Harry teases, echoing her own comment about his psychedelic escapades.

“Yes, Mr. Spider-Man. In my own right, I suppose it is hardcore,” Alani retorts.

“I thought Spider-Man climbed buildings. Don’t think he jumped out of them.”

“I’m sure he’s done his fair share of both.”

The two drive down the coast for a while without a word, Harry drumming against the steering wheel as the song dies out while Alani soaks in the view outside her window. Suddenly, she reaches over and taps him on the arm, drawing him out of his reverie.

“Turn right up there!”

“Why?” Harry asks, already putting his blinker on.

Alani doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t need to. Harry saw it just seconds after turning into the lookout and it left him breathless. The car comes to a stop and Alani wastes no time unbuckling her seatbelt and stepping into the humid air, Harry close behind. Before them, the biggest rainbow either of them had ever seen shimmers in the high afternoon sun like a wall of unbelievable vibrant hues. Harry had never seen one this close, he felt as though he could reach out and feel each color slip through his fingers.

“Are you making a wish?” Alani asks reverently, as if raising her voice too loud will spook it away.

“I thought that was for shooting stars,”

“We’re literally staring face to face with a rainbow and you’re gonna argue with me about the logistics of a wish?”

“Okay, okay,” he relents, grinning to himself as his eyes flutter close.

Harry takes a deep breath and searches his brain for something, anything, but there is only one word pounding in his mind. He doesn’t know why it stood out to him when Alani first said it, but it struck a chord within him that hasn’t stopped reverberating, so it must mean something. Harry swallows the lump forming at the back of his throat and releases the breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. When his eyes flutter open again, he steals a peek through the corner of his eye at the girl beside him and then fixes his gaze back on the rainbow.

“S’quite big, innit?” He remarks, breaking the reverent silence.

Alani snorts and shakes her head, turning on her heel back to the car.

“You’re so eloquent. Can’t wait to hear what lyrical gems are hiding in your new album,”

“Heyyy,” Harry pouts, climbing behind the wheel. “Who said anything about an album?”

As they peel away from the lookout, Harry can sense something has shifted in the atmosphere, though he can’t quite put his finger on it. He opts to ignore it and poses a lighthearted question instead.

“What’d you wish for?”

Alani narrows her eyes playfully. “You’re not supposed to tell. It won’t come true.”

Harry hums, trying to imagine what she could possibly wish for that would require such secrecy, but his thoughts wander back to the singular word that has haunted his mind since it left her lips.

Home.

Next Chapter

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles x oc #harry styles writing #harry fic #ybmh

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nullanythorm-ao3 · 3 years

Text

Ours by Taylor Swift & Adult Variro Headcanons

Okay so I’ve been sitting on a TISE update for forever and I AM making progress on it - but I need to talk about this because I think I’ve found what is the quintessential Variro song (that isn’t a Disney song - we’ll talk about that one later). And as much as I want to focus on fanfiction, this thing has been driving me crazy.

So, in case you want to listen before reading: this sentence will be linked to the song

Let’s talk about Ours by Taylor Swift, and how I think it perfectly fits my OTP as an adult relationship - and in some parts works even as their relationship is beginning.

A couple things to know before we get started:

This is centered around the idea of a modern AU, it could work in other aspects, but it’s what I think about when I listen to it

Varian was a villain, before falling for Hiro in his mid-late teens (15-18) and their relationship started up

That being said - let’s get into this song and unpack how I feel its lyrics perfectly encapsulate everything I love about these two little science nerds.

Elevator Buttons and Morning Air Strangers’ silence makes me want to take the stairs If you were here we’d laugh about their vacant stares But right now, my time is theirs

So, being adults now, I imagine the two of them both have pretty stable jobs being boy geniuses. Hiro probably works with Krei at some company (I like the idea of them partnering and giving Krei Tech a makeover into a business called Hamada & Krei, where Hiro tends to reign in Krei’s lackadaisical approach to his technology by being a super stern head of R&D), and Varian I picture working in biotech and chemical engineering - especially in the medical field (i imagine part of what lead him to villainy was Quirin contracting someone that he was desperate to cure).

Varian, being socially awkward, isn’t really good with people when it comes to his job. Especially since I feel like his identity as a villain would have been revealed to the public at some point along his redemption, so the general populace would probably still be pretty judgmental about him. He doesn’t like dealing with them, but he and Hiro usually just laugh it off when they’re together. Varian still struggles with it on his own though - especially at work and meetings and the like.

Seems like there’s always someone who disapproves They’ll judge it like they know about me and you And the verdict comes from those with nothing else to do The jury’s out, my choice is you

This is one of a couple areas of this songs that reads like a small conversation between the two. The first two lines being Varian, and the second two being Hiro.

Now, this is the interesting bit. My personal headcanon is that Hiro and BH6 wind up going all Tony Stark/Iron Man at some point and reveals their identity. Even if the entirety of BH6 doesn’t reveal themselves, I definitely think Hiro would, especially in being involved in a multi-million dollar tech business and partnered (in business) with one of the most famous and influential men in the city, if not the world - on top of being a boy genius. I think the stress of all that AND being a superhero would kind of get to him, so he just kind of reveals it at some point.

Even if he doesn’t - I think all that positive attention on him would definitely contrast all the negative attention on Varian as a former villain whose identity would have definitely been revealed. As such, their relationship would definitely be judged by a lot of the people around them, save for their closer friends. By the way, no, Varian doesn’t join Big Hero in this universe. Think of him more as an occasional “guy in the chair” who helps direct them or give them alibis at times, but is never directly involved in the crime fighting. He’s just support. He’d be too affected by all the negative attention, I think, and wouldn’t want to draw any more to himself when so many people are already judging his and Hiro’s relationship.

But of course, Hiro only has eyes for Varian. He always reassures him that there’s no need to pay attention to people with enough free time to worry about who someone’s dating. He loves his little raccoon just the way he is, and wouldn’t trade Varian for the world.

So don’t you worry your pretty little mind People throw rocks at things that shine And life makes love look hard The stakes are high, the water’s rough But this love is ours

THE CHORUS. OHMYGOD THE ChORUS.

It’s just. SO perfect. For these two. Starting off with “Don’t you worry your pretty little mind”. Ohmygod. That sounds so much like something they’d say to each other. Yes, they’re both considered very attractive and have pretty faces, but that’s not what’s important to them. It’s their minds. They connect to each other because they’re both boy geniuses with cutting with and quick, casual tongues. They’re the only people who can keep up with each other in conversation, and that just kind of lead them to wind up together. Their minds are so connected and linked together that it’s all they see in each other, more than anything else.

And of course, they have a pretty rough, rocky relationship. Between the reveal of Varian being a villain, his subsequent decision to fall for Hiro and redeem himself, and the judgement they both get from others for their decision to love each other - “the stakes are high, the water’s rough” definitely fits. No matter how many stones get thrown at them and how hard their relationship is at times because of outside influence, however -

They love each other, and they work together and overcome everything that comes their way. I love this chorus so much. However, as it’s repeated throughout the song a bunch and this post is already incredibly long, this will be the only time it’s brought up in this post until the end.~ \

You never know what people have up their sleeves Ghosts from your past gonna jump out at me Lurking in the shadows with their lip gloss smiles But I don’t care, ‘cause right now you’re mine

And you’ll say

So I don’t think I need to say much about this stanza here - but I will anyway because that’s what this is all about.

So, naturally, this is all Hiro to Varian. He had quite a history, and Hiro always learns like he’s learning something knew about his boyfriend and his stint as a villain. From having been arrested in his own home town for thievery and other acts against the mayor’s family (Frederic) for not working on or accepting his own ideas on research for a cure for whatever - having to help him come to terms with all the people he’s wronged in the past as well as all of San Fransokyo. Varian’s got a deep history.

There always seems to be something new just around the corner, out of view, ready to pop out at him. But it doesn’t bother him, because they belong to each other, belong together. Varian’s his, and he’s Varian’s, and he’ll do whatever it takes to help sort things out. And no matter how much the people from Varian’s past may even judge Hiro, not knowing him, for being involved with him, Varian will always be there for him, just like he’s always there for Varian -

this stanza leads into the chorus, so let’s move right on to the next part.

And it’s not theirs to speculate if it’s wrong and Your hands are tough but they are where mine belong and I’ll fight their doubt and give you faith With this song for you

If the last stanza was all Hiro, this one is all Varian. He’s a bit more snippy with the people who judge their relationship than Hiro is. Of course he is, it’s Varian. He’ll flat out tell people they have no business meddling in their affairs while Hiro will mostly just ignore it and reassure Varian that he doesn’t need to bother them. He gets tired of people saying that he and Hiro, a villain and a hero (whether actual revealed super hero or just “local hero”), don’t belong together.

Still he loves Hiro and knows the two of them are meant together. “Your hands are tough” are more than likely a reference to the fact that Hiro’s hands probably get pretty calloused working on machines and technology and stuff all day as compared to Varian’s delicate chemistry hands.~ I like to headcanon that Varian has a slimmer build while Varian is not necessarily as muscular as Wasabi, but still not as much of a “twink” as Varian when he grows up (or Tadashi, despite their being brothers and genetically linked).

And of course - Varian can sing. It’s always canon. No matter what. And I just see him kind of soothing Hiro’s nerves from time to time or them just relaxing together and him singing for him. It’s a fun little touch I wanted to add for the “song for you” bit.

Cause I love the gap between your teeth And I love the riddles that you speak And any snide remarks from my father about your tattoos Will be ignored, 'cause my heart is yours

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

So while I love the ENTIRETY of this song for Variro, and you saw how much I freaked out over this chorus. This part. This part here was one of the parts I was most looking forward to writing out.

This is another one of those stanzas

So “I love the gap between your teeth” - Hiro has a gap tooth. Varian loves it. End of story. Simple. I think they’d both keep their tooth problems (gap tooth for hero and buckteeth for Varian) into adulthood, but they might be a tiny bit less pronounced.

“and I love the riddles that you speak” is read so well as Hiro’s response to it. Because, again, Varian does tend to be a little more smooth-tongued and speak in riddles when he’s not being snippy, as compared to the more blunt and straightforward Hiro. It drives him crazy sometimes, but it’s fun for him to play those word games with him, and he loves Varian despite how difficult he can be at times.

Now, let’s talk about the big boy here “Any snide remarks from my father about your tattoos will be ignored, ‘cause my heart is yours”. HIRO. GETS. TATTOOS.

I think they’re mostly out of love for aunt Cass and the Lucky Cat. A calico cat and a bunch of showy, japanese-style tattoos. I don’t know of what exactly, but the calico cat is the big one - symbolic of the Lucky Cat and Mochi. While he’s serious and stern at work, he has a reputation for being casual, and never really grows out of that rebellious, punk atmosphere. Ripped jeans, leather jackets, probably rides a motorcycle. Sometimes it’s hard for people to see through that. And I definitely think that when Quirin first meets Hiro (he gets CURED of whatever he contracts! Thanks to Varian! He’s fine!) he kind of has a hard time seeing through it at first. I don’t think he likes Hiro much until he sees what a good match for Varian he is - he comes around eventually.

And I lvoe the contrasted idea of Hiro coming off as rebellious and a punk and having a bit of a temper. However, he’s actually super sweet and a teddy bear underneath, always wanting to do what’s best for others. Meanwhile, Varian is kind of spindly with long limbs. He dresses in modest clothes - either sweaters or lots of button ups and vests. He gives off the impression of a perfect angel visibly, but his tongue is sharp and he’s more devilish than his appearance lets on. It’s. Synergy. And. I love it.

So after that it goes into one last chorus but it adds an extra line in there about

“They Can’t Take What’s Ours”

Which I think is a great addition for the end. Basically them saying they love each other. And no matter what people say, or how much criticism they get for dating, they love each other and no one can take that away from them. The people who are really important will always be there to support them, and that’s all that matters.

Anyway that’s enough of me making an obsessively long post over a song no one probably listens to that just kind of got me all excited over my OTP. I’ll properly focus on fanfiction updates now. Thanks for anyone who read this beast

#variro #varian #hiro hamada #hiro x varian #tangled/big hero 6 #tangled #tts #big hero 6

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muthaz-rapapa · 4 years

Text

Let’s talk TroPreCure! (^∀^ 🌺)

i’m so stupidly proud of this dumb pun “tropurikyua~”, hahahahaha

Last post of the year and wow is there are lot to be excited for!

I even had to make a list for the stuff I want to talk about and I’m sure I already forgot one or two things but we’ll get to them as we continue to float~ along the wave to February 28th, mmkay? :)

Now for what has peaked my interest so far. And yes, we have to talk about the following first:

1) HealPre the shortest Precure season??

Unless they plan for double features in February (which I doubt but you never know), HealPre is likely going to reach only 45 episodes long instead of the usual 48~50 before TroPre I’m using this shortening of the title for now so if there’s a better alternative, tell me and I’ll switch out begins its broadcast.

Understandable because the producers probably want to get back to their normal scheduling as soon as possible (toy sales, y’know) and I suspect pushing the start of the new season back by a month is the most they’re willing to compromise.

As for me, I’m quite happy about this since HealPre’s lost its hold on my attention a while ago so the sooner TroPre gets here, the better. Though the downside might be a scrambled climax and a rushed, underwhelming ending for HealPre (I dunno if it’s January’s titles that feel a bit messy or if the hiatus is still throwing me off) but whatever. We’ll refresh ourselves with the new blood Cures so it’s all good.

2) Tropical movie announced for Autumn 2021, no All Stars??

(source)

First saw this mentioned on Youtube somewhere but it’s all over the fandom forums by now. I mean, HealPre’s movie is set for March, the usual time slot for All Stars release. If Toei intended for there to be an All Stars in 2021, there’s no way they would announce the seasonal movie before it so speculations of them skipping it this year are probably true.

To squeeze it somewhere between March and October-ish would force them to readjust their budgets as well and I don’t think even Toei wants to go through that extra hassle after all the trouble the pandemic’s caused for everyone already. It’s just easier to resume All Stars in 2022.

That, and I think Laura being a major character in TroPre despite not having a Cure title (yet) would make for an awkward situation when the three latest teams gather so perhaps that’s also one of the reasons. But I’ll get back to Laura in a bit.

3) Cure Summer is a RAINBOW Cure

So god help me if I see anyone calling her a Pink Cure.

Yes, she’s the lead Cure for this season. NO, she is not a Pink Cure.

Look, even the official website has a rainbow overlay for her profile pic and text font while everyone else’s respective theme colors are a solid hue:

Therefore, RAINBOW.

In promotional material and merchandising, they’re probably going to advertise her primarily with pink bah and at worst, she might occasionally be labeled as a White Cure with multiple subcolors (her outfit is not pink-dominant) but definitely NOT. PINK.

...also, this goes without saying but f***yea, we finally got a lead Cure practically and unabashedly wearing the LGBTQ flag and you cannot tell me otherwise, Toei!

Own up to it! Declare Manatsu/Cure Summer as the Precure queer icon!

I’m not gonna stop yellin’ until you do! 😠

4) Laura = obvious midseason Cure is obvious

First of all, Laura is a babe. I already love her the best and she’s not even Precure yet. <3

Anyways, the set-up is pretty much in the description. Important main character who’s not a mascot, stated to have a self-confident personality and just speaks her mind (oooh, I like~ :D), magical/foreign being from another world looking for Precure to save her home, possesses her own special item(s), has aspirations to become the next Queen (so she’s a princess-candidate or something to that effect, I suppose).

We’ve seen various combinations of these traits in past midseason (and a few starter) Cures so nobody should be surprised when we all guessed that one of the Cures would be a real live mermaid.

The only question is why not just make Laura a Cure from the get-go if she’s introduced to us at the beginning (like Hime or Lala) and having a team of five with no unnecessary extra add-ons later on (like Smile).

Well, there’s a simple answer for that: formula.

Toei is afraid that if they don’t spit out some new animation sequence at the halfway and third quarter points of the show, the kids will lose interest and abandon the series altogether. Which means failed toy sales. Oh nooo... [/sarcasm]

...Yea.

And this way they can also have Laura available in the Cure lineup for the next All Stars in 2022 instead of making her sit the fight out if we were going to have one in 2021. I’m convinced that’s gotta be one of the reasons. *shrug*

But ok, whatever. Her debut is gonna be later, that’s all. She’s a delayed Cure. Midseason Cure, same difference.

Moving along to the more important stuff now like what’s her Cure name gonna be, y/y?

Well, knowing Toei, a translation of the term “mermaid” into another language is the most predictable route even though we already have a Cure Mermaid. Not like that ever stopped them from repeating words before (ex. Cure Happy vs Cure Felice). Though if they do go down that road, I hope they opt for the Spanish/Italian “sirena” and not the French “sirène” because the latter sounds too close to how Cure Selene is pronounced in Japanese. And, putting it nicely, we all know Japanese pronunciation of foreign words is as off kilter as can be.

Hell, even the the Portuguese “sereia” sounds aesthetic as hell so it’d be nice if they can just remember there are other languages that exist out there besides Japanese, English and French when making the final decision at the writing table! *stomps foot* >:/

Alternatively, “nereid” or “naiad” are good choices too but they remind me too much of Greek myths and Laura’s from the Grand Ocean which covers more than just a couple of seas (Greece is surrounded by three, btw) so...

I dunno. But whatever it’s gonna be, she’s definitely got a strong association with water and her powers will probably be based on that.

As for theme color, since there’s noticeably no blue or green Cure in the starter lineup, it’s likely she will take up that spot when she debuts around ep 20.

Pink is also open since Cure Summer, again, is technically not a Pink Cure and Laura’s hair and tail fin are hot and light pink respectively but looking at Laura’s design and concept, does anyone seriously believe that?

Her upper torso consists of aquamarine while the body of her tail is definitely some shade of cyan, implying they’re aiming for somewhere around the middle of green and blue on the lighter spectrum.

And yea, I’m aware that green and blue are considered exchangeable in some perspectives with how close some of their shades are to each other but officially, I think Laura’s gonna be grouped with the Green Cures.

Cuz of the hair. If Laura’s gonna keep it the same or a similar shade after transforming, that is. The Blues have always had cool-colored hair so putting Laura in with them might disrupt that harmony whereas if you put her with the few Greens there are (including Parfait), she’d fit right in.

I mean, we’ll see but that makes the most sense, doesn’t it?

On another note, I just want to say that I love how they added frills to her arms instead of letting her elbows go bare naked. It definitely makes her look more like a genuine mermaid than if she didn’t have them (remember, half fish doesn’t mean half the body :P).

5) Magical Items

Frankly, I’m tired of seeing the transformation device being a compact again even though one of the main motifs is make-up this season. But at least, as far as Precure compacts goes, the Tropical one is my favorite cuz of how cute and delightfully colorful its toy version looks! So I guess I’m okay with it.

The Heart Rouge Rod, though? ...I dunno. I think it would’ve been fine without that...straw (?) jutting out at the top. It looks weird, doesn’t it look weird? :S

As for the collectible clip-ons, I can live without those for the rest of my life. Yeesh.

Laura’s items, the Aqua Pot and the Ocean Prism Mirror.

Again with the portable, travel-size housing. *sigh* 😩

Alright, I can let this year slide cuz Laura (I’m so soft for her, omg) probably won’t be getting legs for 20 weeks so she’s got to move about on land somehow. But unless they’re really thinking about turning this idea of carrying your apartment around in your bag/pocket/purse into a reality (cuz that would be effin’ awesome), please be more creative with your toys.

On the other hand, I’m much more interested in the Ocean Prism Mirror but from what Kusyami (the Precure merchandise reviews I follow on Youtube) said in his latest vid, this is the ED dance item so don’t know if it’ll actually have an relevance to the story or not. But I did hear him mention it having something to do with the Queen as well and since Laura wishes to become Queen, maybe it’ll be important after all? Maybe it’s her transformation device?

That’d be super cool. Let’s continue the trend of the midseason Cure having a different transformation item than the starters. Honestly, we should alternate every other year or two but we’ve gone three seasons with all of them using the same henshin gimmicks up till HealPre and I just want a break from that.

6) Fin sleeves??

These look so impractical for combat so maybe it’s exclusive to group attacks.

And/or a sort of precursor to the super forms?

*GASP* Does that mean they all eventually turn into mermaids? 🤩

7) Yui finally became Precure!! 😭

lol, it’s all crack from this point on so don’t take it too seriously but man, after Yuni’s deceptive braids, I thought I wasn’t gonna see anything that reminded me of Yui for a while and lo behold, Sango.

kehehehehehe xD;

Though Yui might be closer to Minori in terms of personal interests (fairytales and storybooks).

8) Akira, the actual Onee-chan version

I didn’t think this when I first saw her but once I read “Onee-san” in her profile, there’s no saving you now. Sorry, Asuka. 😅

Also, damn, do her sandals make her feet look big! Compare them to the heels she wears as Flamingo. Are they even the same?! lololol

9) ...this sounds awfully familiar...

Translation:

Tokimeku Tokonatsu! [Exciting/Thrilling Everlasting Summer!] Cure Summer! Kirameku Hoseki! [Sparkling Jewel!] Cure Coral! Hirameku Fuurutsu! [Flashing Fruit!] Cure Papaya!

Japanese reiteration:

Mallow/Mao: Pink no tokimeki! Lillie: Blue no kirameki! Lana/Suiren: Yellow no kagayaki!

….........

@Toei

Care to explain yourselves, punks?!

୧(ʘ ∀ ʘ ╬)

#it is 1:30 AM and im hungry and still have to do work on new year's eve so i'll come back to amuse-rage later #tropical rouge! precure #precure 2021 #cure summer #cure coral #cure papaya #cure flamingo #laura la mer

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undyingsunshine · 3 years

Note

YESSSSS YOU’RE BACK AND TAKING ASKS

14 and 15 for the most recent post, and I’m gonna come back with more too

Here we go!!!!

14. At what point in writing do you come up with a title?

Honestly, it usually differs from piece to piece! Usually, though, the title comes last! (Though I do have a short list of potential titles for Li Cu fics stored away, most of which are just lyrics from songs xD Whether I end up using them or not, only time will tell!)

15. Which is harder: titles or summaries (or tags)?

All of these tend to give me a bit of trouble xD if I was to rank from hardest to easiest however, I think I'd say titles are the hardest and tags tend to be the easiest. For summaries I usually just slap a portion of the fic in and then add a small almost-summary below it, mostly because I feel like giving a sample of the fic will be more effective than trying to give a succinct description? Kind of shows you what you're getting into before you've even clicked xD

Titles, I use a lot of lyrics from songs, especially ones that I think fit with the character. Though, this does sometimes mean my titles are... long and it can make it a little awkward when trying to talk about the fics themselves. xD

Examples include;

"Come with me, I promise the water is fine..." Which is a lyric from God Bless Eric Taylor by Marietta, a song that I relate to Li Cu somewhat.

This next one is the title of a chapter instead of a whole fic, but I'll count it anyway xD Chapter 2 of I'm Here is titled: "I have this dream that I'm hitting my dad with a baseball bat and he is screaming and crying for help..." which is from the song Father by The Front Bottoms.

I ideally try to make it so that the lyrics also match up with the contents of the chapter/fic. I'm Here's second chapter is all about Li Cu's nightmares, so I thought the title would be pretty fitting xD Honestly, thinking back maybe I could've added more types of dreams.... Ones that fit that title even more.... Small rewrite of that Chapter perhaps? I don't think it would be that different, but still... Would add more angst onto everything xD

The title for "Come with me..." Also sort of relates to the contents of the fic, but moreso in the following line that appears in the summary: "I need something else to comvince me I won't die."

Honestly these lines could have me ranting a whole lot, especially in relation to Li Cu. Just makes me think of all his conflicted feelings, and how he must feel when he drags his friends into the mess he didn't even make. (And these feeling really would increase after Su Wan blames him for the snake bite and getting Shen Qiong inveolved, and during just... the entirety of the time he, Yang Hao, Su Wan and Liang Wan are in the desert together. (ESPECIALLY when Yang Hao is being absolutely mistreated by the 9 families, like sheesh.)

It's just a whole lot of guilt, but also maybe some stubborn determination? Li Cu is very adamant on living just to spit in the face of everyone around him. Existing out of pure spite, but with friends involved, it's more like he's existing to fulfil a purpose? One that he feels like he's bestowed upon himself. Not Wu Xie, or Rishan, or anyone. Just him. He stays alive so he can protect his friends. He'll keep them safe, he'll get them home alive. He has to. And he knows that he will. Or else, what is he even persevering for? "I need something to convince me I won't die." In the fic, this could also be referring to Wu Xie, as he kind of marks safety by the end of the drama. Wu Xie being there means it's okay. It means he doesn't have to fight anymore. And in the fic, it also means that Li Cu can let go. Of Everything. Permanently. (I have so many branching ideas based on that 300 word demon of a fic, you wouldn't even believe)

ANYWAY I'LL STOP RANTING ABT THAT FIC MAYBE I'LL TALK ABOUT THAT FIC MORE IN DEPTH SOME OTHER TIME IF PPL WANT IT.

As for tags, I struggle mostly because I never know what's okay to tag? I'm afraid of tagging a fic with something if the content of that particular tag doesn't show up all that much in the fic? Unless it's something that's a potnential trigger, and then I'll tag it, even if it's small. Just ot be safe. But like. Characters, I don't tag unless they're actually there and present and doing something. If they're mentioned, I tend to not tag them since it's not all that crucial? For people to know they show up for a second? Idk, I like to be as succinct and precise as possible with my tags, because I know how annoying it is for tags to be clogged or for fics to have too many tags xD

4. Share a sentence or paragraph from your writing that you’re really proud of (explain why, if you like)

I have a few, surprisingly! I'll choose two, both from the second chapter of I'm Here!

"Each one makes him wake up, terrified and shaky and wanting to hide or just outright stop existing; to become intangible, untouchable, safe. Of course, he can't actually do that, so instead he pushes the fear down and suffocates it before burying it in the backyard of his mind in the hopes it'll never be dug up again."

Something I try and do while writing is find ways to explain how I. Just. Experience life? (This is also present in Chapter 1 with the line "Further frustration gathered in his chest, making it tighten with stress before it shot up into his throat". Just little things that I've never really seen in words before? That I feel but never know how to accurately describe.) There's always the whole "let the void swallow me/him/her/them whole" thing in media that I love because, honestly, mood. But I guess for this I just wanted to word it differently? In the way I felt was most accurate to myself. Just to be in a state of which nothing can get you, be it life or that one imaginary demon that you sometimes think is lurking around the house at the convenient time of 3 AM, Y'know? When real life becomes TOO real and you just want to blip out for a second, just pause everything and have a moment to be free of everything xD

I also just kind of like the metaphor(?) with his fear. Trust Li Cu to not only associate feelings with violence, but also treat his feelings violently xD I feel like I'm not the best when it comes to imagery and creative expression, especially through words. I point out the obvious, the facts, a lot, both when speaking normally and in writing, and it takes a bit of time for me to remember that I'm writing a story and not jotting a list of events xD So anytime I actually come up with something more kind of creatively written, I feel particularly happy with myself.

"He can't even fully comprehend what's been going on - everything feels bizarre and just out of reach, moreso than usual - but what he does know is that Wu Xie is here and he's angry. The man stands above Li Cu, his cold calculating eyes burning him with wordless accusations that, despite their ambiguity, feel justified. There's guilt, desperation and denial crashing inside him like waves assaulting a rickety raft on a stormy sea. What these feelings are for, he doesn't know. It makes him want to plead for forgiveness all the same."

Let's be honest, Li Cu probably has way too many mixed feelings on Wu Xie. The man who simultaneously built him up and destroyed him. The man who caused him agony, but is also probably one of the best things to come into Li Cu's life??? Like damn, I think I'd be pretty conflicted if I was Li Cu. And things only get worse when, in this fic's timeline, Wu Xie essentially ghosts Li Cu out of guilt for what he did to the kid. This is taken wrong by Li Cu, and he ends up feeling abandoned. By his own kidnapper. I just feel like this snippet is pretty okay at capturing all the blame he puts onto himself, and captures some of the trauma that comes with the events of Sha Hai as well. I just kind of like how this paragraph turned out in the end. xD

6. What character do you have the most fun writing

LI CU!!! Absolutely Li Cu. I don't know exactly what it is but it just. Clicks with me? Or at least the version I write of himd does, it's probably not even close to Li Cu's canon portrayal xD Maybe it's because of the fact that I'm also an angsty, angry 19 year old that I feel as such? It's much easier to put myself in the mind of a teenage boy rather than a 40 year old man xD In terms of non DMBJ writings, I have OCs that I love writing for! Funnily enough, one is an angsty 19 year old boy with a lot of self-worth issues (ringing any bells?) and the other is an angry, confused and conflicted character that was modified to be a kind of living weapon, but had since escaped and repressed all their memories of what happened. Though, the memories eventually start to resurface and they begin to question themself a whole lot, with flashbacks haunting the corners of their mind and driving them deeper and deeper into guilt-filled despair.

In general, angsty characters with a lot of conflicted emotions are super fun to write for! To flicker around from thought to thought and dive into all the hidden feelings that a character can have. It's just super enjoyable for me xD

#writing this while also writing an essay #it's helping me turn those rusty head gears #i feel like i can finally write things again xD #THANK YOU FOR THE ASKS SIERRA! I hope my answers were satisfactory!! xD #i think i went way too off-topic with some of these but honestly when do i ever stay on topic????#ask game #undying prattle #ramblerambleramble #miiiight edit this tomorrow to make it more comprehensible #but for now you can have this mess of a post xD

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shiftytracts · 4 years

Text

This was gonna be a scenario post, hence the A and B format, but got so long (2.4k) it almost counts as a story. I’m less sure it counts as emeto--it’s all nausea/general digestive upset, no actual vomit. Also mentions scat and weight gain, but those tags would definitely constitute false advertising; they’re more like incidental story elements than kink elements.

A’s on new meds, whose side effects include slight but near-constant nausea. They wander one morning through the dark, brown-carpeted house they share with B (their SO) and another housemate (C), coffee cup in hand, still slightly sweat-sticky from bed but without the time to shower. It’s a small, thin-walled house, and C’s not up yet, so A and B keep off their shoes for as long as they can, trying not to make too much noise. A muffles their burps into the crook of their elbow. B makes eggs and toast for both; A’s gotta wolf ‘em before their appointment, but wishes they hadn’t—or at least that they’d skipped the orange juice, and maybe saved brushing their teeth for after breakfast. They head to their appointment with their heart pounding in their gut, queasy and bloated and short of breath, bubbly stiff cramps forming in new places every time they bend a different way, belly rumbling so much they wonder if B can hear it, if they can see it shake, can see A’s navel through their t-shirt.

(“Be honest”—A implores, when they wander back from the can to the kitchen sink where B stands washing grease off the breakfast plates—“do I look like a total fatass?”

(“What? No.” B laughs, rhetorically, and adds, “Why?”

(“Well ‘cause I sorta feel like one is all,” A says, peremptorily stroking up and down past their navel, but regretting it when this uncalled-for jiggling further upsets their stomach.

(“Aw. No, you look fine,” B assures them. They look back to their dishes, then at A again with preemptive shrug: “I guess if they were really looking someone might figure you’d had a big breakfast, but.” A yanks at their shirt, hoping to obscure this; “Don’t do that, you’ll stretch it,” B reminds them.)

A tries to crap before they leave but no dice—not time yet. Nasty cramps and cold sweat all through their shrink appointment. Comes home, gives vent to the pyroclastic flow, then collapses supine on the bed and unbuttons their shorts. Takes a nap.

Despite their best efforts B’s doings in there an hour or so after that wake A up; they direct A to the water glass they set by the bed. “Oh. Thanks,” A yawns, and asks if B’ll hand them pajama pants. B smiles and complies.

“Not going out again then, huh? Not feeling well?”

A shrugs. “No, I’m okay now, just kinda.” They try to make a hand gesture for tired or loopy, but judging from B’s lack of answering nod they figure this doesn’t suffice as explanation. “Might later though, I don’t know.”

“Mm.”

“Should eat something, probably.”

“Ah, yeah—get back on the horse?”

“Haha yeah.” Meanwhile A rubs their belly up and down as though to sound its opinion on the level of drawstring tightness they’ve selected. B sits next to them for a sec, puts a hand on their back, pecks their jaw.

“I guess you are a bit chubbier now,” B admits, feeling guilty for how they dodged A’s question on that score this morning.

“Seems that way,” allows A. This, they’re pretty sure, is the previous med’s fault. They wouldn’t’ve switched were that its only sin, of course, but the thing had the gall to be useless aside from its side effects of weight gain and insomnia. “Is it gross? Should I.”

“What? No,” B says again, and laughs rhetorically as before. “‘Gross’? Of course not.” B bats A’s jaw, very gently, playfully. “No matter what happens, I’m just happy you’re getting help.”

A’s answering smile lasts maybe a quarter of a second. “Thanks.” All the same they stand and spread their arms out to either side, to give B a better look. “Sure you don’t mind?”

B smiles, shakes their head chidingly, incredulously. “Why would I mind? It’s kinda cute, if anything.” To prove they mean it they go around behind A, rest the side of their face on the back of A’s neck, snake their hands around to A’s front and slot each one atop their waistband so B’s palms fit in the hollow between pelvis and flab. Roots around til they find the end of A’s shirt, pushes it out of the way, un- and re-does the drawstring so their pajama pants sit at a more flattering height. “That too tight?”

“No, it’s kinda grounding actually,” A shrugs. “Thanks.”

“Mhm. Now go eat something.”

A eats some leftover rice with soy sauce—C ordered way too much rice with their takeout two nights ago, and left the extra up for grabs. Then A figures they can handle two Oreos. Can’t stop burping after that, but only feels a little queasy, little squirmy. Lies on the couch with their laptop, alternately studying and playing Tetris (they’re a week or two into the fall semester; today’s Friday, which they have off from both classes and work). Until C gets home, at which point Mariokart happens. This makes A feel sick, though, not sure whether in a too much food or not enough kinda way, so they take their computer and go back to the bedroom, telling C they just want to remove themselves from the social distraction. Maintains this ruse until about halfway down the hallway, then lets go the foodbaby they’ve been suckin’ in and moves their free hand up and down it as they round the corner into their bedroom doorway. B’s all dressed and ready for their friend’s party now; has to go soon. They’re crisscross-applesauced on the bed looking at their phone, but they look up when A comes in. “Hey.”

“Hi! Feeling better?” B asks, with a slight frown that suggests they know the answer.

A busies their hands with setting their laptop on the bed so they can say, “Nope—queasatronic,” without seeming too self-pitying.

B nose-laughs but says, “Aw. I’m sorry.”

A shrugs, sits. “Eh.”

“Want me to stay home?—I could—?”

But this time A says, “What? No. ‘Course not, you should go. I’m fine, I’m.” (Shrugs, realizing already that this’ll sound like a guilt trip and wondering whether they secretly mean one. But they’re too bushed to think of another ending to the sentence.) “I’m used to this; don’t need a babysitter. You should go.”

“Okay. Thank you. If you’re sure.”

“No, please. Seriously.”

“Alright. What time is it?” B chirps, then presses the top button on their phone and reports, “5:24—yeah okay, I should go. Take care, feel better. Need anything?—I could stop at CVS, or.”

“Uh…” A mimes thinking about it, then spaces out for real.

“Well, you can text me if so,” B laughs.

“Cool. Sure. Have fun.”

“Thaaanks,” B says, swinging themselves by the hand around the doorjamb as they slip out. A arranges themselves supine again, hands folded on their stomach. Lets out an unimpressed sigh as though in summation. Doesn’t really wanna take a nap, but they try playing Tetris again and feel too icky when they try to focus their eyes on the screen. Closes their laptop but does not remove its warm weight from their lap, even though in the 5pm heat its plastic sticks to their wrists. Burps, mouth open, not loudly exactly but sorta high-pitched—as though they were an adolescent boy with a soda can, they scoff. Then wonders if they have any more diet ginger ale. Wanders out to the kitchen, in the extra wall space between which and the dining room (B calls it a “breakfast nook,” but A just assumes that’s a joke they don’t get) they keep their soda cans stacked on the floor next to the milk-cratey recycle bins. There is indeed one left. They grab that and a cup (and two ice cubes outta the tray in the freezer), too lazy to fetch the one B put water in for them earlier, and remind themselves to text B that they’ve run out.

C’s still out there, and notices A’s choice of beverage. “You alright?”

“Yeah, just. Guts’re on the fritz again.”

“Hm. Sorry, pal.”

“It’s cool.”

“You gonna be able to find something you can eat?”

“What?”

“Tonight, I mean. Is there food you can eat?”

A shrugs. “Still some rice left I guess.”

“I ask ‘cause I’m going to the store in an hour, so. If you want some saltines or something.”

“Oh.” A laughs; adds, “thanks. Think we still have some from last time though.”

“Okay. Well, if you think of anything you want.”

“Sure. Thanks.”

“No problem; good luck.”

At this departure from Hope you feel better A laughs slightly. “Thanks.” Heads back to their room, drinks their soda and melty ice. This is the hottest-ass part of the day, so when it’s gone they balance the still-cool glass on their clavicle. They feel much better now, if sorta bloated and fizzy. Quease level comparatively minimal. Figures they should eat again while they’ve got the, uh, guts for it.

Once they start on their second round of rice A finds they’re pretty hungry. Adds soy sauce a lot more zealously, this time, and risks the last leftover spring roll as well but regrets the grease. Has to make up for it with the unsauced bits of rice clinging to the edge of the styrofoam box—you know, like, a palate cleanser or whatever. They hiccup a little, then belch when they bring their plate to the sink, from the contact between gut and the edge of the counter: hadn’t thought about the extra room they take up now. Rubs a peremptory circle into the left side above the navel but finds they feel alright, for now—then 20 minutes later heads into the can, expecting lava from how their stomach cramps and rolls, but gets out only some air and a few wispy pebbles. Notices with greater dismay, then, on the way back to their room, how their belly queasily sloshes around when they walk. Doesn’t seem to have shrunk much.

In B’s mirror, back in their room, A finds they look pretty gigantic, too; they changed into a looser shirt after the first one got too sweaty, and in this comparative tent all you can tell is that the gut’s the widest part of their profile. They set their hands down on it to bring it down to size, and are dismayed at how little difference this makes. Does feel nicer that way though; leaves ‘em there as they trudge slowly back to their side of the bed, and pushes slow circles into each side. Sits heavily on the edge of the bed, hunched over a little. Can feel the tightness in their stomach that means either it’s going to rumble in that long drawn-out violating way where you feel like it’s loosing all your secrets or that you’re going to belch so loud you’ll wonder if you have to puke. Waits, then gives up on waiting and slowly, laboriously lies down. Stretches a little, tempting fate, but it kinda hurts: ties a weird knot high up on the right when they loosen back up. They put three fingers on it gently, and try to iron it out back and forth. Ah!—there it goes. Stomach starts growling, seems to shake everything up, then once that uneasy shifting’s done with it still keeps up the sound what seems a ludicrous, embarrassing long time. When that’s done they sigh and then burp a little. Laughs at themselves for this display. Carefully carefully carefully turns onto their side, facing away from the door, and tries to sleep, a protective hand curled around their stomach.

When B gets home much later that night they wake up a little (“Oh. Hi. How was the thing.” “Hey! Sorry to wake you. It was fun; I think it went well.” “That’s good.” “Mhm.” “Anyway good night.” B laughs: “Haha okay. Go back to sleep A.” They mean to reply at your service but instead say, “Open sesame”; B laughs and pats their hair so it itches their nose. When A swipes at it snot comes loose. They decide not to open that pandoras wormtails); figures they’ll fall back to sleep quick until the consciousness of nausea slides back into place, at which point they try to roll onto their back and find themselves ludicrously heavy. It takes several tries, and all their breath. They groan with bored self-pity, forgetting they’re not alone in the room.

Meanwhile B struggles out of their clothes and into pajama pants and an inside-out (but not backwards) tank top in the dark. “You okay?”

“Blugh. Not great.”

“Aw, still?”

“Yeah… nah,” A says, blinking, confusedly forgetting which answer is appropriate. “I gotta pee,” A decides. This helps a little, since it wakes them up all the way and therefore allows them to disentangle the need to pee from their other woes. In the bathroom mirror they look mostly deflated up top but still extra puffy and round lower down; at least it doesn’t hurt their stomach to stand up anymore. Only hurts like a menstrual cramp does after you take ibuprofen, but the quease that in that case is only incipient is much worse here. At one point they cough, and dread this “pandoras wormtails” too when it alerts them to all the mushy brittle things in their throat and chest. This also makes them start burping again, so that that’s how they end up greeting B when they get back to the doorway of their room: fist over their mouth, wincing a little, leaning into the wall for balance. B’s a good sport though. They face each other in bed and B lays both their warm hands on A’s stomach, whimpers in pity at how blown up they can tell it is.

“I’m sorry you don’t feel well,” they say in that affectionate half-asleep tone that always comes out querulous.

“It’s cool,” A says back.

B sloppily nods so that their jaw thuds against their pillow, hair spilling into their eyes, and tells A, “Just try to go back to sleep; feel betterinthmorning probbleby,” trying to get all the words out before a yawn.

#emetophilia #emeto cw

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