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rise-my-angel · 2 years

Text

Matching Insecurity

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x Female Reader

Length: 7.8k words

Warnings: angst, angst with a happy ending, fluff, mild smut, implied smut, teasing, masterbation

Notes: Takes place after the movie but isnt integral to the plot of this story

Was it really worth it? Having the wool pulled out from over your eyes worth the coziness of the job? You were surprised honestly to get the call that you had been hired, even thought it was just a low level position it was still in the cities most secure building with the largest of names attached to it. You had applied to a nondescript secretary job, only to show up for your first day to find out it was part secretary work, and part personal assistant work to one specific boss.

The illusion though? Was gone totally the more weeks that passed. The media and online view of the Heroics was one of grandiose importance, larger than life people with attitudes superior to the citizens they protect, only to realize that most times, it was basically just a fancy office. At least where you worked. Your boss, the biggest name of them all mostly worked out of a cozy office and if you didn’t know any better, you’d never have guessed he was famous.

Finding out you would work almost exclusively for Marcus Moreno on your first day almost sent you into a panic attack just out of shock.

You later were informed that extensive checks on you were done to ensure you were a good fit and that’s why little description was given, so they could learn about you without your personal bias. But you were quiet, polite, and way too hard of a worker for what you were being paid, and so they placed you with the head of the Heroics.

Marcus was, so strangely normal. So far you never saw him in anything that wasn’t casually business, and the weapons on his office wall looked more like expensive decoration than an integral part of his power. Always busy with mountains of work, phone calls that had him sharing exasperated looks whenever you walked in on one of them, and late nights where he pestered you to go home already. Saying you didn’t need to stay and work longer, on the days he did.

He mostly stayed late the days his daughter Missy came in after school for junior training. She was always amusing. She’d plop her arms dramatically onto your desk in exhaustion only to lift up with her palm up against her cheek and ask you things. What did you like to eat, do you live alone, what did you like to do outside of work as she compared them to what she and her dad’s answers would be.

“You’re lucky you can bake, my dad and I always try but we always end up just wishing we had someone else there to help us.” There was a twinkly in her eye that said more than what she was letting on, but you chalked it up to her being surrounded constantly by Heroics or ones in training that talking to another normal person probably was a nice break for her.

Marcus finally came out of his office, leather jacket in his hand as he and Missy shared a hug. “Everything go well this time?” His voice was so comfortingly deep you caught yourself thinking.

Missy nodded, “Sort of, at least I got her to agree to give me her water when she gets too upset finally.” Marcus chuckled and smoothed out the top of her hair in a soothing manner. “I’m just glad its leftovers night, I’m way too tired to do anything.”

Marcus leaned down to press a kiss to the top of her head, “You say that as if it’ll get you out of doing the dishes.” He shared a playful grin at her mock glare. She turned to you and waved her arm out to point at him.

“You see what I have to put up with?” Marcus flicked her hair, causing her to nudge his hand away from her in jest as she pretended she wasn’t going to laugh.

You raised your eyebrows and leaned on your arms resting on top of the desk and squinted slightly, whispering as if in secret. “Bring him a coffee with a little more sugar then he normally takes, the extra sweetness calms him right down.”

While you and Missy shared a little laugh, Marcus’s eyes flickered to look at you a little closer. He hadn’t realized you did that, but the pieces started to get put together. On his bad days, or just frustrated moments you tended to bring him something sweeter then normal, or innocently suggest you take up a task that normally would add an extra hour onto his workload. Little things he never once actually asked of you. All it did, was add more fuel to the ever growing emotions he was having more and more trouble keeping at bay.

He couldn’t help but watch you whispering with his daughter, and have his mind flash back to the comments she always ended up making on the drive home, how much she weirdly pushed him on certain things. He had to pull himself out of it as Missy called for him. “Are we ready to go?”

He shook the thoughts away one more. You were just good at your job, and generous just out of who you were as a person. It had nothing to do with him, and he already knew he’d have to distract Missy in the car from trying to bring it up again. He’d ultimately think about it again later tonight, but in a far more inappropriate way that he was starting to feel more and more guilty about the better it felt when you were at the forefront of his mind

Marcus nodded, grabbing her bag to carry himself, and leaned in to you pointing at the jacket hanging on the hook in the corner. “That goes for you too, it’s Friday you shouldn’t be wasting your evening when you’ve been here all day.”

Giving in, you nodded and stood up, stretching your arms up a bit to shake out the stiffness not noticing any eyes on you. “I’m not a big Friday night’s plan with other people kind of girl-” you hesitated just slightly when Marcus’s eyes narrowed at you. To you, you saw what looked like disappointment in a lack of social life, not realizing it was anything drawn from his heart. “Fine, I’ll do..something. I promise, sir.”

Marcus stood unmoving for a moment you didn’t quite get. You wondered if the look he was giving you was just analyzing what a boring assistant he was realizing you were. Getting your stuff ready to leave, you hadn’t noticed Marcus and Missy quietly talking still at your desk until you turned around with your bag. Raising your eyebrows, Marcus waves his hand for you to follow.

Oh. They waited for you to join them as they left? You spent the elevator ride trying not to listen to their conversation, but the deep bass of his voice seemed to echo in the tiny space. Marcus again made the same wave when you tried to stand back so they could leave first, instead forcing you out in step with them.

Your brain focused on the click of your shoes against the lobby floor as you all stepped outside. The chilly air felt both stinging and refreshing on your face. The later seasons always blew in a crisp kind of air that felt somehow fresher than the heavy summertime, your less then thick coat however disagreed with your assessment of the temperature. The conversation next to you catching your attention enough to stay before you decided to try and slip away quietly.

“He kept talking about something something self promotion? I mean I’ve never even been on those sites, where would I even start?” Missy was standing, arms flinging out in exasperation as Marcus leaned down to actually zip her coat up with a flat expression to Missy’s bemused one. Always complaining about getting cold too easily but too lazy to do anything about it, it clearly was a common occurrence but drove Marcus’s protective instinct nuts.

Staying bent down to her level, he sighed, looking at the floor before giving her an earnest look. “I don’t like it. Call me old fashioned dad I know,” Marcus placed a comforting hand on her upper arm. “but that kind of attention at your age is too much for you to handle alone. You’ll have too many eyes always ready to judge you.”

Missy scrunched her face as she thought it over, before her body sagged in a shrug, “I don’t even know how he posts that often, how much could Miracle Guy of all people have that much to say?”

Your breathy laugh caught their attention, Marcus standing back up straight as he looked at you while Missy turned. “You want to know his secret?” Missy furrowed her brows with a tilt of her head in curiosity. “He just gets people like me to post for him, he knows he’s not that creative.”

While Missy laughed at how typical that was for him, Marcus’s look was far more uncertain. That scrutinizing look once more, “He hired you to post for him?”

His train of thought wasn’t anywhere near yours. You shrugged, half not looking at him. “No he just kind of dumped his passwords on me and just requested to make him look good. It’s fun, he’s not exactly hard to figure out.”

You really didn’t see the issue with it, it hadn’t crossed your mind. Technically he was also your superior just giving you another task. Realizing you should have brought gloves, you shove your hands into your pockets and take a few steps downwards, away from the direction of the auto shuttle leading to the secure parking lot. Marcus called your name just before you got away. “You aren’t going this way?”

You felt a little sheepish as he nodded his head in a backwards motion. Your hands clenched and unclenched in a sudden insecurity. “Uh, no..just thought I’d stretch my legs today.”

Marcus almost took a step towards you but seemed to restrain himself. “It’s late though, we can take you home no problem.”

In your chest you felt another pang of insecurity, but brushed it off casually with a smile and shake of your head. “No please, don’t go out of your way it’s fine.” Your legs were asking you to just leave but Marcus’s almost concerned expression pinned you where you were almost by force. If you were thinking clearer, you might have remembered the metal buckles on your shoes that suddenly felt heavier than normal.

“It’s late and it’s freezing, really neither of us mind the detour.”

This time Missy was the one who interjected. “Do you normally walk home?” Oh god her expression matched her fathers perfectly. The last thing you needed was the Moreno duo trying to break your defences down and going out of their way to help you.

You stammered a bit, caught off guard as to why they seemed to care. “Just sometimes..most of the time..” By most of the time you meant every day, but you didn’t feel as if that's the answer they wanted to hear. Marcus’s face grew more tense with every word and you weren’t sure you wanted to hear what he was thinking. “I should go, I uh, I’ll see you...have a good weekend.”

You didn’t turn back as you walked away. Taking the long path to the smaller security gate on the complete opposite side of the lawn than your path home was. If you looked just to the side you could see the shuttle to the parking lot pass, and you instantly bent your head down to stare at the sidewalk below you.

It was embarrassing. That Marcus Moreno, leader of the Heroics with his nice tech filled car and his surprisingly humble sized but still gorgeous house finding out his assistant doesn’t even have a car. At least not driving you home meant you spared yourself the further humiliation of him seeing the run down apartment building you lived in. The outside usually with a few loud, drunk or high smokers making a racket, and the chipped paint and lack of any effort look of the buildings outside.

You didn’t hate it, not even the muffled yelling usually heard through the narrow halls. Tinged in an ugly yellow and orange from the light bulbs partially exposed from their lamp encasement. The building wasn’t nice and you didn’t feel inclined to get to know anyone else living here, but stepping into your own apartment at least relaxed you. It felt lived in and cozy, took a lot of effort to get it like that but the rent was as cheap as you could find and afford so moving wasn’t on your list.

Turns out you lied. To be fair, you did pace around mindlessly to come up with anything fun to do. Even scrolling through yelp to see if anything struck your fancy, but going to a restaurant alone felt embarrassing. You didn’t really drink so a bar wasn’t much of an option either. Being new in this city and putting so much into proving your worth as an assistant really left you terrible at making friends.

It wasn’t until your walk to work on Monday morning that you tried to come up with a convincing fake story so your boss didn’t think you were a complete piece of cardboard. It also struck you why you even cared. He wasn’t just your boss, he was a national hero essentially, helping to run the biggest organization of powered people in the world, what in the world would entice him about you? Deep down you knew why, but admitting what that feeling deep in your heart was would be more difficult than you wanted to deal with.

All morning you had prepared this creative story of a fun, impressive outing with your friends, but by the time you reached your floor, it all became pointless. Instead, you just quietly got settled at your desk without even popping your head into his office to say good morning like usual. Only talking to Marcus when he came to you with work things and just gave short polite answers to anything else. May as well stop daydreaming.

It wasn’t until you finally went through your personal mail stack when you found a contract along with a paycheck. Marcus’s eyes were bright and endearing behind those glasses that framed his face so nicely when you knocked.

Walking in somewhat timidly you put the contract facing him on the desk. “I just saw this now, but uh, I’m not sure exactly what it’s for.” Your hands clasped together in front of you as you tried to discreetly twist your fingers around in anxiety.

Marcus only took one glance at it, before he let out a breathe of a laugh and a smile. “It’s an amendment to your existing contract.” You only furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. “I- we added a clause that if you are to have an active role in controlling Miracle Guy’s social media than you should be getting paid extra for it.”

He held the paper up in the air and tapped at the check paper clipped to it with his fingers. “This is the back payment for what you’ve already done.” He tried to look you in the eye as you approached to take it back, but you were actively avoiding it. So he murmured your name to force you to look at him, “You deserve to get paid for your work, okay? You’re great and you should be rewarded for it.”

His gaze was penetrating. Something deep swirling behind it that once again felt as if he was putting a puzzle together. Grasping it gently you avoided your hand getting close to his, your sudden realization and subsequent insecurity of being seen as nothing more than an employee was influencing you to be as distant as possible. “Thank you.”

Marcus tugged it back ever so slightly as he looked at you again, only to let it go just as quick. You only got to the door before he called your name once again. “Your weekend. Did you have a good time?”

No use in lying he was just being polite. So you shrugged one shoulder as your hand gripped the open door, “Not much going on in my circles.” You couldn’t look at him right now, you felt too much like you were six again. A quiet little girl with a crush on your teacher only this time if you get caught, you won’t get a quiet kind conversation about adults and children aren’t compatible that way, you’re just going to find yourself out of a job.

You hadn’t sat down for more than 30 seconds before Marcus barrels out his office, flickering his hand to pull the door closed as he was preoccupied putting his jacket on. He leaned onto the front of your desk and it struck you how he had a soft look about him. “I’ll be out for a while, so uhm, please take a long lunch for yourself, no need to worry yourself until I get back, okay?”

You nodded gently, “Will do, sir.”

Marcus’s eyes narrowed at the formality, but he tapped at your desk before pushing off and heading directly for the elevator, only catching a glimpse of him suddenly pulling his phone out urgently before the doors shut.

You were terrible at this, by the time Marcus got back you were so engrossed in a report that your food sat in it’s container, untouched and not even warmed up yet. He approached much more calm than he left, so you didn’t catch his soft footsteps until his large frame shadowed your desk. “You’re back, is everything okay?”

Marcus looked at you before looking at the container. Letting out a loud sigh and his head tilted to the side in an unreadable irritation. He opened and shut his mouth a few times before relenting. He simply reached over and shut off your monitor.

You spun in your chair and raised your arms in question, but he only gestured to your food. He didn’t even have to say it, you just let out a deep breathe and grabbed it. Walking past his warm frame, he laid a gently hand on your waist before pulling away as soon as you turned. “Please just sit down and enjoy yourself, stop trying to do everything in one day.”

Maybe if this wasn’t the day you were plagued with sudden insecurity, you wouldn’t have completely misread his tone. You lowered your gaze and nodded before walking away. Worried thoughts swimming through your head that maybe you were doing too much, and that you weren’t performing up to standards because of it and this was his polite frustration in your work quality.

Marcus on the other hand has never seen you so downtrodden. Your normally quiet disposition now bordered on shy or uncomfortable. Biting the inside of his cheek, he once again reminded himself of the plan. It might be too abrasive if he did it, he just had to reel in this growing impatience and let Missy play the part she seemed suspiciously eager to do.

Truth be told, he was out of his depth on this one. He had been on his own for quite a few years now and in that time he had very little interest in anything or anyone besides raising his daughter. When he was told he’d they had hired someone to be his personal assistant and secretary he didn’t expect anything.

It wasn’t until you walked into the meeting room and Marcus felt that tightening in his stomach that felt foreign at that point. You were so easy to be smitten with, you were quiet, always happy to help or support anyone, you were so incredibly pretty with eyes he would fall into every time you spoke to him.

He was conflicted though, for more than one reason. First he was your boss and the last thing he wanted was for you to feel taken advantage of, but also his own guilt. Realizing he was starting to emotionally move on from that stage of grief, that he was finally having those feelings again felt strange. Especially when he thought of Missy.

The one thing that dating again always scared him was the idea that Missy would think he’s trying to replace her mother, or forget about her. She was much younger when they both lost her, and Missy has mostly grown up solely with Marcus. Would introducing someone else interrupt that harmony? The weirdest part really was how much she pushed as soon as she got out of him one day to admit he liked you.

Thankfully, she had more tact than him in being direct. Coming in after school, Missy came right up to your floor and loudly dropped her bag right beside your desk. Head shooting up, you had a real smile finally at the sight of her arms crossed on the wood with her head fitted neatly into the middle of them. “Is there something I can do for you, miss?”

You were returned a mischievous grin, pushing up a bit on her palms and tilting her head with wide eyes in a very Marcus manner. “So I’ve heard that restaurant you like is doing pretty well..”

Raising your eyebrows you put your elbows on the desk, hands tucked under your chin as your eyes narrowed playfully. “Oh? And which one would that be exactly?” You could see the temporary panic as the gears in her head turned. For a brief moment she looked behind you for a second, to quick to turn your own head before she found her answer.

“That ugly one shoved between the old bookstore and some empty building that somehow always smells like fresh bread.” The cheeky grin was enough to almost make you laugh. You circled in your chair as she came around to the side to see you better.

“And what per say Missy, are you suggesting I do about it?”

Her answer was immediate and confident. “You come to dinner with us.” That wasn’t what you expected honestly. As you were taken back, Marcus appeared by you two as he and Missy greeted each other before he turned to you with a soft look.

“We’d love to have you join us.” Seeing your hesitant look he clarified. “Only if you’re comfortable, but we just thought it’d be nice to take you out, outside of work.”

Missy leaned into her fathers side in a nudge, “He might feel that way, but I’m certainly not taking no for an answer.” Marcus scolded her quietly with a rush of her name as she stood with no shame. His head leaned down to her suddenly look up at you, and those wide eyes suckered your dumb self back in.

You inhaled a noticeable breathe, “Only if you guys are sure, you know for me to join-”

Marcus interrupted before a continued train of thought could doubt you more. “I- we’re absolutely sure.”

Missy didn’t skip a beat. “Great, we can all go together when my lesson wraps up?”

Oh absolutely not, you needed time to shake off this gloom over your head that followed you all day. You shook your head with a tight lipped smile. “I uhm, I have a few things at home I have to do first, I can just meet you there it’s not far.” Marcus was about to object but you insisted. “Really, I know when she about wraps up, I’ll just meet you two.”

Curious doubt was plastered on both Moreno’s faces, but Missy did have to leave and Marcus didn’t want to linger in case you started to feel pressured to go. You left early, but not before a gentle reminder from Marcus of the time, and once again asking if you were sure he couldn’t pick you up.

Denied again. The reminder of the run down cheapness of your apartment still lingered your feelings of inadequacy.

It had taken about five shirts tossed carelessly onto your bed before landing on the one you hated the least out of the bunch. It almost felt stupid to try and do yourself up, what point would spending extra time making your hair look pretty, or fussing with what makeup didn’t make you just look like you were trying too hard. A change of clothes you suppose was all that was worth it.

The walk was cold, the evenings dropping to almost freezing temperatures as soon as it gets dark. Your cheeks stung from the cold and no doubt your eyes looked a little red from walking in the winds path. You were the first to get there, not really a surprise, you had a tendency to get anywhere early. It was though, a thought of if you should wait inside or out. Worrying if you waited inside you’d look impatient or uncaring, you leaned partially against the prick wall, hands shoved into your pockets firmly as your body fidgeted on its own accord trying to keep from getting too cold.

You heard them before you saw them, a laughing back and forth as they turned a corner. Missy tucked purposely into Marcus’s side no doubt shielding her from the wind. As soon as you were spotted, a concerned look splashed over his features and he rushed in front of you. “Jesus, it’s freezing you didn’t need to wait out here for us like this.”

You tried laughing it off but his concern remained. “I’m okay, I barley noticed it.”

In a move you didn’t expect, Marcus almost without thinking reached to gently cup your cheek, his thumb running over the obviously cold skin. “Your body says otherwise.” Oh boy, did he even realize what this combination felt like? Those words coming out of his deep voice mixed with a gentle touch? You felt almost overwhelmed, his large hand was so comfortingly warm on your face, his finger tips rough from so many years leading his team in the field. Your mouth opened slightly with a tiny intake of a gasp, too engrossed in a touch you had never really gotten to give him an answer.

When you didn’t immediately respond, Marcus pulled his hand away, but did only drop it to your side and slid to your lower back to start moving you to go inside where it’s warm. As you talked briefly to the hostess, you missed Missy and Marcus sharing a look that spoke a language all on it’s own.

Dinner, was surprisingly normal. There wasn’t any stiff formality or undertones of being at work or with your boss. No it just felt like having dinner with two people you’ve known for a while. There was a strategy at play here, Missy talked and prompted things to smooth out any awkwardness, but always handed the reigns over to her dad and let the two of you get engrossed in whatever you were talking about.

It was really nice, the anxiety and insecurity fading more and more with every laugh or smile you shared with him, and for a while you got to forget the things that plagued you all day. You both made fun of how big the portions were, than laughed together in success when Missy finally gave in and admitted she needed a take out box for the rest of it after stuffing herself past full.

Taking off unceremoniously to the washroom, the quiet between you and Marcus matched with the coziness of the booth and dim lighting above felt much more intimate than anything you shared with him at work. He rubbed his hands together for a moment, taking a peek around to see if anyone was watching before turning back to you with a gentle murmur of your name.

“Listen I, Missy shouldn’t have been the one to ask you here. I wanted to ask you myself, but..I’m just, not used to this anymore.” Your face went from a gentle confusion quickly to a look of pain. Seeing him in such a domestic setting, you realized it was so easy to forget that a giant part of their hearts were missing.

“Really, it was very sweet of you-both of you. I’m still new so I don’t have many in the friend department, but you’re my boss I didn’t think I should be bothering you with that. You were just asking to be polite, you didn’t have to do any of this.” Your voice was quiet, a bit timid but with an underlining confidence that you knew telling him the truth was the best.

Marcus put an arm flat across the table almost about to gently grasp your wrist, “Wait that’s not-”

In a small rushed out sentence you threw your hands out almost defensively, “No it’s fine really, I get it. If I burn myself out, I’m not doing you much good am I?”

Marcus was quiet. His brown eyes looking deep into yours as he stewed in his thoughts. Your hands had fallen back down, fingers fidgeting against each other much like you did when you were nervous in his office. His gaze finally made a slow path down from your eyes. Not a linger that felt creepy, his eyes barley even focused on anything but staring down at your nervous hands.

“Marcus, sir, I- I apologize I didn’t mean make things uncomfortable.”

Marcus’s breath hitched noticeably at being called sir, but for reasons you wouldn’t discover tonight at least. He watched your hands as he slowly murmured to you in a soft, delicate tone. “You always do that.” His hands slid forward a tad on the table, “You finally open up, and I get to see you just as you are until you remind yourself of your job, and you clam right back up like the first day we met.”

Finally his slow moving hands reached their destination. His fingers hovering so lightly over yours you could almost feel his touch yet not at all. “I didn’t want to ask you out for anything other than wanting to spend time with you.”

When you didn’t pull away he finally inched the final stretch and let his fingers trace over the skin of your wrist and hand. He was so warm it almost felt like he left a burn of his touch whenever his hand moved to another spot. His sudden raise of his head caught your attention. “I’m sorry about today. I just started overthinking things, and I guess I was...”

Your eyes trailed away with your voice, you hadn’t noticed your pinky reaching out and like the weight of a feather, traced over Marcus’s own hand. All you could feel was the harshness in your throat at opening up. “I was doubting myself, maybe I was reading into things but we just-”

“Get along perfectly.” Your eyes met again, yours bordering on a bit of the sting that was typically followed by a feeling of choked up. Marcus’s was more warm this time. Unable to hide your gasp when he finally grasped your hand, just at your fingers as his thumb ran over them. “I haven’t felt anything for someone like this since her mom, I was worried today when you were so distant that I was overstepping. It’s easy to forget you work for me when I just look forward to seeing you everyday.”

You whispered his name, and it was almost obvious your heart was racing more. “I know it’s complicated, and you don’t talk to anyone else there the way you did me, and I didn’t know if I just fooled myself into seeing something that wasn’t there.”

“I like you.” His hand gripped yours tighter, unwilling to let go of your softness in that moment as he laid his heart out for you. “You can tell me no or to piss off if you want, but I do like you. A lot. The last thing I want is to scare you off, but if you ever decide your comfortable with it, I want to take you out. Properly like you deserve.”

Your heart filled up, it was such an odd feeling. This strange new life, and job and a whirlwind of emotions towards Marcus that realizing that this small intimate bubble you two worked in wasn’t just a childish fantasy you made up. You almost jumped when moving to cross your thumb with his only to be interrupted by someone knocking into your table as they passed by without so much as a sorry.

Your jump knocked yourself out of his hands, but Marcus stayed regardless. His head turning to watch Missy’s incredulous face at the people who had walked by only to realize what she may have walked in on. About to make an excuse to give you more time alone, Marcus beckoned her over with a fake annoyed tone. Yanking her into his side he pressed a kiss to the top of her head, mumbling something in Spanish that you couldn’t quite make out as she responded with a look you could only describe as proud of herself.

It made you laugh honestly. The tense overload of emotion simmered down back to a domesticity that seemed to very naturally fit all three of you. Finally relenting it was time to leave, Marcus had paid before you got the chance to even get your card out.

You turned and looked at him with a wide eyed amused look, and he was close enough to feel his breath on your face as he smiled back as he spoke. “You’re not paying even if you’re the one who asks me out next, okay? I was supposed to be treating you.”

A lightness in your chest filled you up, as you found the courage to smirk back. “If we’re playing by those rules, technically it was Missy who asked me out.” Your voice had lowered to a mocking whispered taunt and if his bemused eyebrow raise was anything to go on, you might be starting to accept he does at the very least enjoy you for you.

Missy on the other hand had her hands on her hips with a little pout, “I played matchmaker, if anything you should be paying me for my services.” Missing the incredulous look on Marcus’ face you knelt down to her eye level.

“Instead how about I pay you a free fresh baked dessert of your choice? I know you’re a sucker for soft cookies.” You and Missy both focused on each other, you definitely missed Marcus’s eyes flowing down to your ass before blinking whatever thoughts arose out of his expression and moving to stand beside both of you.

Her eyes narrowed as she contemplated the bargain. “Only if I get to eat some of the batter before you use it all.”

Marcus taking advantage of the offer as a hopeful plea of being able to spend more time with you. “La cocina de Morales is fully stocked and open all weekdays and weekends.” Your head looked up to him, before standing to your full height to better see his gentle eyes towards you. “You’re welcome over any day of the week.”

His tone less joking and sounding much more like an offer had warmth flowing from your heart out into your veins. You intended to answer jokingly, but what came out first was far from it. “You really don’t have to do that, I don’t want to intrude.”

Marcus took a small step forward, “Never.”

Both of you noticing more of a crowd starting to enter the lobby, you three quickly made your way back onto the cold streets. Without realizing it, you had begun to walk with them to the parking lot as if you were unwilling to let go of this little world you had finally felt with him.

It wasn’t until you were standing beside his car, as Missy opened the door to slide inside keeping the door open, asking Marcus if she could turn on the heat. Saying yes, he turned back to you as you looked up to him nervously before starting to fidget in place. “I guess uh, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Your face was wide eyed and hesitant, not at all matching the introspective gears turning inside Marcus’s head. “Let me at least drive you home.” His hand finding a home on your upper arm as he leaned closer, your name slipping from his mouth. “Please, it’s freezing out. I’d feel better knowing you can get home safe.”

“Marcus, I uhm...it’s not that I don’t- I mean I’m just not sure you-”

Cut off by his hand, somehow still warm despite the cold air, finding a place on your cheek. “You know I don’t look down on you for where you live right? It’s not at all what I would call a safe area but that doesn’t change how I see you.”

By your confused look, Marcus’s face turned sheepish. “Your address is in your file, I may have taken a look at the place a few weeks ago.” His hand slid from you cheek down to the side of your neck with only his thumb high enough to stroke the skin of your jaw under it. “I overheard you saying once that your neighbors made you uncomfortable but it was the only thing you could afford. I just wanted to know if you were okay or not.”

Missy at this point had poked her head out of the open door, “You could always come home with us and take advantage of the fireplace?”

Marcus turned his head saying her name in a warning. Grimacing she relented and got back into the car. You nodded when he looked back at you with an apology on his lips. “Okay, driving me home doesn’t sound too bad.”

A relieved smile graced his face, lighting up every handsome feature in an instant. “Good, great. Come on, Missy’s probably cranked the heat enough it’ll be a sauna at his point.” His hand fell to your waist as he turned you and opened the door for you.

Sure enough it was comically warm in the car. Marcus on the drive commenting how he didn’t understand how Missy could stand having the seat warmers on max for so long. It was a nice drive, but you knew you were being quiet. Not only did he know where you live, but that it wasn’t what you would call a decent area. You felt your stomach whirl at the prospect of being embarrassed once more by your differences, and wanting to feel giddy that he checked it out of worrying for your well being.

Luckily when you drove up, the outside was mostly empty spare a lone smoker desperately trying to get his lighter to cooperate. Missy turning partially to look at you with a smile, but this time less mischievous and much more small and shy. “I’m really happy you had fun with us tonight.”

Smiling at her you undid your seat belt and stroked the hair at the top of her head for just a second. “Me too. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

You weren’t sure of you meant just the days she comes up to her father’s office or if the invite to their house was genuine. Part of you still felt that insecurity of taking a place in their lives that you had no right too.

“Let me walk you over.” Marcus getting out as you walked side by side, arms brushing against the other. Your head down slightly shaking away the conflict rising inside, as Marcus eyed the rough state of the building with a harder scrutinizing look. He didn’t feel good leaving you in an unsafe area and a less than reliable apartment complex, but he knew his protective feelings towards you needed to be eased in slowly. He didn’t quite think it would scare you off completely, but he also didn’t want to come across as possessive about where you lived.

Getting to the front door, you turned to thank him for the evening only to discover he was much closer to you than before. “I had a good time Marcus, really.”

A more gentle smile graced his features, his palm one again filling your cheek with a thrilling warmth. “Listen, I know me being your boss could complicate somethings, but I need you to still know that I’m not trying to take advantage of you. This isn’t about what you do, it’s just...I’m not used to having feelings for someone again, but I don’t want to go back to pretending they don’t exist for you.”

Your own hand raised to cover part of his wrist and your hand. “If you want to stop, or take things slow I completely understand. The last thing I want is for you to feel like I’m trying to replace-”

He stepped in even closer, his lips so close to brushing against yours as he spoke. “You’re not. I promise you, sweetheart. You’re not.”

Watching his eyes flicker down to your lips, you held your breathe. The need in your heart feeling overwhelming yet unreal. Marcus though, didn’t quite have the same resistance.

At first his lips just barley brushed over yours, testing how okay you were with him, but as soon as he felt you start to lightly kiss him back it was as if a spark was lit inside of him. His grasp on your cheek held firmer as his other hand grasped at your waist pulling you in slightly.

His kiss was greedy but his mouth was unbearably soft and addictive. By instinct your hands gravitated to him. One hand sliding barley over his neck and collarbones while the other sat at his waist just keeping you upright against his growing need.

Marcus lost himself in your lips, his tongue gently teasing at you, giving your bottom lip a nip and taking advantage of the high pitched gasp to slip his tongue into your mouth. You let him dominate the kiss, the only brush you returned was as he explored your own.

It was only when his grip slipped to your hips, and stopped himself before he pulled them into his own. Taking your time to slow back down to a simmer, Marcus only pulled away after going back for one last small kiss.

Your eyes shut and chest heaving to catch the breathe he stole from you, Marcus tilted your head up to look him in the eye. “Be safe, please. I’ll pick you up in the morning, okay?”

Trying to resist you pulled away only to find yourself unable to overpower his strength. “Marcus, it’s okay, you don’t need to go out of your way just for me.”

Instead of any annoyance he smiled. Leaning in to brush his lips against yours as he spoke. “Quite the opposite. I just need a little extra time alone with you before I have to share your company again.”

Finally agreeing, he set the time he’d be there. You noting it was earlier then either of you needed to arrive there, you couldn’t help but feel a growing heat at his eyes looking over you. He left one last kiss on your lips.

He watched you at the door until you disappeared from sight up the stairs. No doubt he was about to hear it from Missy. Whatever inside of him kept flashing back to her mother, it seemed to be buried deeper down inside her. Marcus at first thought it was the feeling of betraying his wife when he no longer could deny how much he liked you.

But now he knew it was something a bit different. It was getting used to feeling alright in finding love again, getting used to the freedom to find happiness again after so many years of pushing it away. Missy might be more complicated, she was young when they lost her and she’s grown up mostly without a mother. That might be something to slowly be unpacked later. For now he felt happy, and so did she and for the Morales duo that was all that mattered right now.

It wasn’t until after you got out of the shower you saw a text from Marcus. He had never texted you before, only ever called. You bit your lip as you approached, a child like glee as you opened the message.

“Tell me if it’s too much, but I already started to miss you.”

It wasn’t too much. Something about him felt different, like he wouldn’t hurt you in ways others had before. So you kept him at ease, not wanting him to think you were apprehensive about it. The insecurity existed, but putting that on him wasn’t what you wanted.

“Missing me, or just missing my lips?”

He responded right away, as if at the ready for when you finally opened his first text. “Trust me I miss more than just your lips right now.”

There was a smile as you typed this out, it was a risk but you could still feel the weight of his tongue sliding over yours and it had kept your body in a state. “So you’re saying I shouldn’t tell you that I only read this right after getting out of the shower?”

Once again, right away. “Don’t start, baby. I’ll give you what you need, but only if you’re good enough to wait for it.” There certainly was more to this man then his kind look gave away.

You almost fell back onto the couch. How on earth were you supposed to just act like nothings changed tomorrow morning? “Do I get rewarded if behave like a good girl?”

Marcus’s resolve would shatter the next morning when he sees you. His original plan was to take you out for coffee, but after that message shot straight down to his cock, he wasn’t going to be able to resist the need to feel your lips and your bare skin against his. Luckily you had a boss that wouldn’t care if you were late.

“You tread carefully, sweetheart. You have no idea what kind of talk that’s going to get you into.”

“I’m looking forward to finding out, Marcus.”

“Me too. Now go get some sleep, I want you to feel refreshed when I finally get you all to myself tomorrow morning.”

If only you knew just how much both of you would take full advantage of being alone together.

Marcus Moreno was afterall, a constant surprise.

#marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno x female reader #marcus moreno x you #marcus moreno x f!reader #marcus moreno x y/n #marcus moreno imagine #marcus moreno fic #marcus moreno fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader

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aleksa-sims · 8 months

Text

😲👯‍♀️⚡

My sister was back home. I was quite surprised and didn’t expect her to come to me. I was just about to head out. N. was waiting for me. I didn’t intend to spend the night at home. So I didn't really have time to listen to Ana's.....bullshit. Sorry, but the first thing she asked me, was if I was clean. She called me Lexi again! 🤨UGHH!😩

Ana: Look who it is.... And Lexi? Did you quit that shit?

Me: ANA! 😲 ... Hi. 😒

Ana: Hi! Are you on the run again or what's this here?

Me: You think I'll take off?.... No, I’m just not staying at home tonight. I am hurried! So get off me, pls.

Ana: Nice hair. Mom told me what happened to your extensions.

Me: Great. 😒

Ana: Where were you? And where are you going now again? 🤷‍♀️

Me: None of your business!

Ana: Sorry about Daniel. Mom told me about that too. But at least we know now, that nothing happened to him.

Me: I’m getting a divorce.

Ana: I understand you. But... you really want that? You love him. 😟

Me: He broke his promise. He left me alone. I don’t trust him anymore. You, know? I need someone who wants to be with me and stay!! Someone who doesn’t leave, someone I can rely on and someone who.......loves me. Really loves me.

Ana: I'm sure Daniel loves you! But yea, he has those.... certain issues... Haven’t you considered that your addiction will cause you trouble? About such things you should be aware, when you decide to marry someone who is difficult.

Me: What am I supposed to do, Ana?... He’s somewhere without me, most likely high and screwing with another. So NO! I don’t want that! I'm sick of all that shit.

Ana: But you married him and give up at the first difficult challenge. You knew about his probs.

Me: YES, I knew it damn it. But why can't he just talk to me? Or tell me what’s wrong with him? If he’s actually in trouble or trying to get clean, I’d understand. But Daniel dumped me. He left!

Ana: I don't believe this. Daniel’s not such a dick. I think he’s ashamed for screwing up something and trying to fix it, but he doesn’t want to drag you into this thing.

Ana: OH! So now I get what’s going on with you. Let me guess, the stranger you met online is probably not a stranger to you. Right? It's Nico!

Me: W-what? What brings you to this topic?

Ana: Your new necklace!!!!!!!! 🧐🔎

Me: My necklace?.. Oh, this thing. Yea, I bought it online but instead of the letter A., I got that necklace with the letter N.. Well, shit happens.

Ana: 🤭..... 😂😂Sure, sis. Shit happens, ha?... I'm gonna shut up, don't worry. The main thing, you're clean! I admit, I can’t wait to see Dad’s face! 😝

Me: I'm gonna tell Mom first. She should tell him. I don't wanna be there, when this comes out.

Ana: C'mon, it's not that bad. Unless you’re planning on getting married to him too.

Me: No, I’m not marrying anyone! Never again!

I’m not getting married, but I’m having a baby. Let’s see how my parents will react, when they learn that they become grandparents at 42. Yeyy 😬🤷‍♀️

Me: Want to be friends again? 😉

Ana: But we don’t hug!

Me: Good! For a moment there I thought you actually expected that from me.

Ana: Like in a stupid sitcom where siblings hug each other for every little shitty thing? Nope!

#ts4 #sims 4 #sims 4 story #myrlgameplay #cw addiction #18+ content #rl simself +

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kaishimo · 10 months

Note

Hi! Hope you're doing well!

I'm trying to learn how to properly draw people. I'm fairly decent at drawing objects, but people? Nope, that's out of question. So, do you have any tips for a beginner? Like what should I focus on, any YT channels, etc.?

(If you see this ask on other pages as well, it's because I'm sending this to my favorite artists on this site <3)

Hyello!

I don't know if I'm exactly the person you should asking, seeing as I'm still fairly new to art so I'll point you in the direction of a few of my personal favorite artists as well! I do have a few tips and exercises for you that I've found to be quite helpful (if not fun) that have been passed down to me by other artists and teachers, though.

1. You should really learn your anatomy before you try to find your specific style. Without knowing the basics first, you'll probably jump around and have no consistency when drawing the same character. Knowing the body is very, very important.

Exercise 1: Using reference photos (I recommend dancing and sports photos for more dynamic shapes, beauty influencers and photographery for what is typically "attractive," and lots of different body types and skin tones for a diverse and more realistic character) and trying to figure out the line of action, then make a gesture drawing to get the basic feel of the body's movements, then the shapes of the body, etc.

Exercise 2: (The fun version) Draw a random shape. Yes, a random one - it can be pointed or round or wavy. It just has to connect. Then, try to make a character that fits in the bounds of that shape. This will push you to try to figure out what is necessary to make a human look, well, human, and also limit the clutter of your characters' accessories and clothing. It also helps you create a unique silhouette (which is always great when making a good, recognizable character)

2. Colors! I'm sure you know basic color theory from when you learned how to draw objects, but if not, you should definitely get on that. It's best to know what colors work best with specific skin tones or whatever you're putting on your character. There are a lot of color theory videos on YT which I think you should check out!

Exercise 1: Limit yourself to 1 color - you may only use variations of that color for your entire character. Yes, this includes skintone and hair. This exercise helps you with values and gets you connected to what places need darker or lighter colors. It's also just really, really fun.

Exercise 2: (Variation of 1) Find a color pallette and stick to those colors exclusively. Try to use the 60-30-10 rule if possible (meaning 60% of the character is one color, 30% is a different color, and 10% is another color). Not everyone adheres to this rule since character design is fluid, and you can do whatever the heck you want, but I personally think that it helps to push your knowledge of color.

Exercise 3: The internet is your best friend. Find a very colorful image online of a model that you really like, or a person that's sitting in some nice lighting, or even an animated character that had some funky colors. Try to imitate the rendering. Shading is pretty important when learning how to draw because it can really change how the muscle looks without it. (Depending on your style, shading can look very, very different.)

3. (Extension of Color) Once again, shading is very important! Depending on the project, however, the way you should shade can be very different. For animations, shading is typically minimal so that they can focus on the movement and not slave over their computer for days on end shading and shading and shading. Keep that in mind! For cartoon or anime art styles, it's often blocky and not blended. For real-life proportions and art styles, it's often blended and rendered (and normally without line-art if that's the route you wanna go 👍).

Exercise 1: Try out and study all sorts of art styles and shading types! It's really helpful in the future if you want to know what you like best! If you want to study a specific artists' art, it's best to ask them beforehand, however. Get their OK before starting. If they say no, then don't. (By the way, no art style is original, no matter what anyone says.)

4. There are lots of online courses or resources you can use! Utilize them. Some of my favorites/things I've heard good things about are...

Artstation - Courses

IAMAG - Courses

Senshi stock - References

Croquis Cafe- References

Rad how to school - Courses

Life of action.com - References

Quickposes.com - References

Proko - Courses

Posemaniacs - References

Warrior Art Camp - Courses

Pexels.com - References

Marshall Vandruff - Courses

Cactus Art Academy - Courses

Sketchdaily - References

Bodyvisualizer.com - Body types

Figurosity - References

Pinterest - EVERYTHING

5. Youtubers and Content Creators !!! There are a lot that I watch and a lot that other artists have recommended to me, so I'll tell you them. Also, find your favorite artists on your favorite social media sites and mentally study their art when you see it! Trust, it helps. (Warning: Long List)

Drawfee Show - They're very funny + watching how they quickly build their characters and settings can really help you figure out what is most important in character design.

Hanacue - Their shading is to DIE for <3

Marikyuun - Very good with a cutsie art style!

Kooleen - Funny, sarcastic + amazing tips

Marc Brunet - Anatomy at its finest

At Lojart - I just find them really cool

Jaiden Animations - Silly + watching her animations can help with your animations

GinjaNinjaOwO - They're funny + their character design makes me want to scream /pos

LavenderTowne - Very sweet + great tips + cute art!!

Pixiv - Wondeful tutorials

TheOdd1sOut - Same as JaidenAnimations, really

Sinix Design - <333333 so many great tips for shapes and painting !!!!

Marco Bucci - Color Theory!!

Mmmmonexx - I don't know much about them but my friend swears by him

Naoki Saito illust Channel - Putting stories/feeling into your art made easier

HxxG - More attractive art <3

Coax Illust - Fun! Semi-realism (I could never)

6. Lastly, learning art takes a long, long time. You can't just wake up one day and know how to draw. You have to keep trying and keep learning and never, ever give up. It's all part of the journey, even the pieces that you don't like. Practice doesn't make perfect. It makes permanent. <3

My favorite artists (and my moots <3): @gl4ssfan , @aiyumiyeou , @coffeeisfortheresponsible , @foxlow , @roselock22 @alicecraftgirl @twigs-sprigs @greenflowerceo @spoopy-sloth @laziilizard @enavstars @miyuliart

Hope this long post didn't bore you! Plus, I hope this helps. Have a wonderful day <33

#queue #ask august #august's art #august's opinion #august's real life #august's moot #my art #art tips #art tutorial #artists on tumblr #art

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heyhelloitsmilo · 10 months

Text

Mirror, Mirror.

=========

moon system x gnc/gender neutral reader

word count: 1225 words

=========

‼️ this is based on my own experiences being trans/nb, i don't have bottom dysphoria so like, i don't... i don't reference it in this.

❗️ my spanish isn't very good, i'm still learning so a bit of google translate was used! masculine terms used (1)

✨ might be a little ooc its been a hot minute since i've written a fic! i'm also very sad!

⚠️ warnings: dysphoria, self-misgendering, feminine terms used in reference to reader, reference to scars (via top surgery), pre-transition/pre-hrt, show accurate depiction of DID, petnames used (lovingly)

💛 pairings: marc spector x reader, steven grant x reader, jake lockley x reader, moon system x reader (sorry steven isnt as relevant in this one i promise to make it up later heres an IOU)

💫 summary: dysphoria hits you really hard one evening after your shower and the boys get concerned, remembering your coming out (fluff, comfort)

-----------------------

You gripped the bathroom counter, water dripping from your skull down your skin, glistening in the fluorescent lights, dropping from your wet hair strands. Your eyes were trained on your chest, almost willing the world and the universe to make them stop existing. The subtle whirring of the bathroom fan only made it easier for you to zone out, staring at your body as it slowly dried, imagining a flat chest and scars in place of the things that made you a woman to everyone else.

You didn't even notice the soft knocks on the bathroom door or the quiet, "You a'right in there?" from Steven outside. You just stood there, the bath mat soaked, mind filled with thoughts about how feminine and womanly your body was, skincare routine and hygiene forgotten.

"Hey, if you're not gonna come out, I'm gonna come in there." Marc's words jolted you out of your trance, face whipping to the door, hands grabbing for a towel to cover yourself.

"Wait, wait wait hold on-!"

"Too late." Marc opened the door, looking at you, halfway through covering your body. His eyes darted across your frame, the rest of the bathroom, landing on your eyes. "Good. You're okay. We were getting worried." His voice was gruff, his words revealing how relieved he was. "...Dysphoria get to you?"

You nodded silently, looking away from the man in front of you, fully wrapping yourself in the towel. You felt... ashamed. Ashamed of your body, that is.

Marc and Steven (and by extension, Jake) had known you pre social transition, loved you and dated you before now. And they stayed after the fact, with Jake finally meeting you after then.

You remember when Steven had stayed up all night, researching and reading on transitioning, practicing and mumbling to himself (and the system) to not misgender you. His efforts hadn't been in vain, with all three of them only slipping up a handful of times. And you appreciated them for it.

You remember the day you came out like it was yesterday.

You'd spent the last few weeks in a crisis, researching, hyperfixating about the things you were experiencing, taking 'Are You Gay?' tests online.

---

A knock on the desk jolted you out of your hyperfixation, pulling your attention.

"Hey, baby. About time." Marc pulled up a stool, sitting beside you, taking a quick glance at your laptop. "What's that all about?" He did a vague gesture at your laptop, spying the 'Am I Trans?' quiz open.

"O-oh, nothing, don't worry about it." You quickly closed your tabs, swallowing your saliva. You grimaced at the unconvinced look on Marc's face. "Okay, maybe not nothing."

"Is there something you'd like us to know?"

Marc's words echoed in your ears as you seriously considered his question. You weren't entirely sure how he (let alone Steven) would handle that. But based on his current reaction, he didn't seem all that... surprised? You mean, you'd been a very adamant ally of LGBTQ+ rights, and you'd expressed yourself to potentially be queer, even if you hadn't done any real introspection at that point. But... what if you were faking it? Faking being trans? What if this was all just a phase like so many parents had suggested?

"I mean... maybe. I've been looking into um... potentially being trans." You said softly, the warm light from the lamp gracing yours and Marc's faces. You looked up at Marc, eyes tracing his expression. It didn't look... angry. Or happy. Neutral? Indifferent? Maybe a little confused? His eyes flickered to the window, presumably listening to Steven.

"We love you regardless." Marc spoke finally, leaning in towards you, eye level with you. "We always will." He extended a hand towards you, offering to hold yours. When you put your hand in his, his thumb gently ran across your knuckles, massaging your hand in his. "If you discover that being a man, or being neither a woman or a man, is you, then we'll be right here for you." Marc's voice had a very slight British accent, it seemed Steven was co-conscious, wanting to speak as well.

"I..." You were in a bit of shock. You hadn't really expected anything, but this was simply so warm and comforting that your eyes got misty. "...You really mean that?" You squeezed Marc's (Steven's?) hand gently, tears slowly beginning to well in your eyes.

Marc blinked, his demeanor changing in a split second, nodding quickly. Steven's eyes were soft, his lips curved in a smile. "Really. We always will." His hands held yours so delicately, so lovingly.

"...I think I wanna try using they/them."

"Okay. We can do that for you."

---

Marc walked over, putting his hands on your shoulders, straightening your posture. "Stand up straight. Hold your chin up." You complied, keeping the towel loosely wrapped around your form, looking up at Marc. A soft smile played on Marc's lips, his eyes as he looked at you. "There's my darling. C'mon. Come to bed."

You nodded and hung your towel, walking out of the bathroom with him and into your shared bedroom, getting dressed. Wordlessly, you pulled on a sports bra and a pair of your boxers, as well as one of Marc's shirts (which he scoffed playfully at before gesturing to the bed). You shuffled under the covers, trying to forget about the stretch of elastic cloth around your chest, burying your way into the duvet cover.

"Comfy, cariño?" Jake's voice cut through the silence, getting in bed as well and leaning against the headboard. You nodded, looking up at him from your spot in the blankets, extending your hand towards him, taking his hand in yours. "Bueno." His voice was always softer with you, and though you two usually teased and joked around with each other, he knew better in this moment.

The two of you laid there in bed, Jake stroking your hair as you laid your head in his lap, calloused hands massaging your scalp.

"...Te encuentras mejor?" (Are you feeling better?) Jake asked softly and slowly to allow your mind to process the Spanish, hand twirling your hair between his fingers mindlessly.

You nodded, fiddling with the seams on Jake's pants to keep your hands occupied. "Yeah. Thanks guys." The soft fabric of Jake's sweatpants definitely weren't clothes he would typically wear, but there really wasn't time for an outfit change, not when cuddles were involved. You certainly weren't complaining.

"Hey, amor, lean up a minute so I can lie down." You complied, scooting your body off Jake's lap, watching him shuffle down, lying next to you. The two of you looked into each other's eyes, not speaking, before Jake suddenly scooped your body toward's him, wrapping his arms around your waist. "Gotcha." He fluttered soft kisses to your neck and jawline, chuckling as you giggled and squirmed. The kiss-tickle torment ended after a few long moments, Jake just trying to keep the dysphoria off your mind, Marc and Steven watching the both of you.

You wrapped an arm around Jake's waist, not bothering to finagle your other arm under him to properly hold him. You just relaxed in his arms, his hands against the small of your back, rubbing small circles into you. "This is nice." You sighed softly, nestling your face into Jake's chest.

"It really is, amor."

=========

masterlist/intro

=========

lets say i mightve been projecting a little

hope you enjoyed!

- milo 💛

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okamirayne · 3 months

Note

Rayne, last episode was awesome!! Just here to remind you that your work is loved by everyone! Shipps in fandom tend to have a person, yk, that internet usser that opens people's eyes and teaches them about a rarepair like its a master class. For me, you are that person. 💗💗 You've done a lot for the shikaneji community, I don't know a single person that ships them and doesn't know about you! You kinda inspired me to learn english years ago because I'd just straight up translate everything with the google translator extension 😂 It's been years since then, and now I read the btb series comfortably in its native language. And there's where I have to ask you something: To celebrate the new HHU's chapter, I'm rereading the whole BtB series. I'm currently in Requiem, but something it's been in my head making noise enough for me to come here and ask you! In Break to Breath, chapter 28, I think they're in Hanegakure and the boys did what hot traumatized boys do... However they're woken up next morning and it is said that Sikamaru tied up his hair with Neji's tie, what Neji did with his hair wasn't mentioned so I always thought that they used each other's ties from then on... Until the very end. Because during the war, Neji isn't using a hairtie, maybe he didn't want to lose it and he save it along Shikamaru's note.

It's never explicitly stated that they got their hairties back, so my favorite headcanon (having people creating headcanons over your fanfic? ur the GOAT) about BtB has allways been that Shikamaru didn't give Neji his hair tie back, and viceversa.

Like when you have a partner in real life and, well, you cannot make a public statement about being together o maybe you cannot see them everyday, so (if you have long hair) you give them your hair tie for them to use in their wrist or properly in their head.

To summarize, what are your thoughts on this? 👀

It's been a while since I last reread the series, so I don't remember this fact being brought up again, at least it wasn't ever mentioned again in Btb nor OtC. Hair ties are mentioned again, but not this. So I live in delulu and imagine them playing with the hairties when they feel lonely/sad. However if it indeed was, then I'm blind and I'm reallyyyy sorry you had to read this 😭

Again, I sincerely love you and the works put online, they're masterpieces and, knowing about the author's block you suffered these years, I hope you're not pressuring yourself on writing! I think we will always wait for you, wheter its BtB universe or your original works 💗

English it's not my first language so I'm sorry if you encouter trouble reading this! xoxo

Sweet Anon 💗💗

Please forgive me if I struggle to find the right words - always a challenge when I am hit so hard by the mega-feels that I'm reduced to a puddle of pure emotion...

There is so much I am thankful for in your beautiful message. The reassurance and kindness of welcoming me back onto the writing stage after such a crippling absence. The sweetness of your incredibly high praise and regard for my work, and the intense combination of humbleness and amazement, learning that you came into the BtB story via Google Translator and took a chance on a fic not in your native language. THANK YOU, for giving my mad story that opportunity, time, investment, and love. I am so touched that the fic gave you traction regarding learning English and that you can enjoy the fic in his native language. Thank you for crossing that language barrier to read my work...again, I'll never not be humbled by that...💗

Thank You for Every Single Word of Kindness and for the monumental love and support your message has contained. I'm so, so touched and so very thankful 💜❤️‍🩹🙏🏼

To celebrate the new HHU's chapter, I'm rereading the whole BtB series.

Aww! I sincerely hope you enjoy the ride once again, sweetie. 🙏🏼

Regarding your question about the hair ties!

[...]...and it is said that Sikamaru tied up his hair with Neji's tie, what Neji did with his hair wasn't mentioned so I always thought that they used each other's ties from then on... Until the very end. Because during the war, Neji isn't using a hairtie, maybe he didn't want to lose it and he save it along Shikamaru's note. [..] It's never explicitly stated that they got their hairties back, so my favorite headcanon (having people creating headcanons over your fanfic? ur the GOAT) about BtB has allways been that Shikamaru didn't give Neji his hair tie back, and viceversa.

Oh I do love where your headcanon has gone.

To summarize, what are your thoughts on this?

I can confidently say, it's a yes. Insofar as Neji allowing Shikamaru to keep his tie when Shikamaru's goes pinging off into the bowels of whatever place they're ravaging each other in...although, I won't lie and say there aren't a few instances where one or the other fight over the last hair tie...

Of course, said fight for the almighty hair tie is always instigated by Shikamaru absolutely refusing to be caught with his hair down, whereas Neji doesn't particularly care, unless he needs it tied back for practical reasons, in which case...may the best genius win. Good luck. 😂

So I live in delulu and imagine them playing with the hairties when they feel lonely/sad. However if it indeed was, then I'm blind and I'm reallyyyy sorry you had to read this 😭

OMG don't apologise! I loved reading this 💗. I'm so happy your mind plays in the BtB madness and again, there's truth to the hair tie sharing (Neji doing the sharing lol and Shikamaru the stealing)

I love and appreciate you in return, dear Anon. BtB would not have happened - would not STILL be happening, if not for the kindness of readers reaching out to share their thoughts, feelings, feedback etc. on the work. You make it possible for me to do it. And for all the words I could ever hope to possess, none of them will ever adequately describe or encompass the enormity of the gratitude, joy, healing, and love I feel hearing from you. 🥰

I honest to gods have no words when it comes to my Original Works and your interest in them...I am just an utterly melted heart, spilling all over the floor of emotion at this point....and I thank you for that beautiful mess and the peace, joy, inspiration, motivation, and reassurance it grants me...bless you, sweetheart. 🫶🏼

Thank you also for your compassion towards my burnout and for the reminder to not pressure myself. Coming with so much sincere love and support, it soothes that awful workaholic and over-thinking streak that has my brain on non-stop and constant insomniac spin. The simultaneous stillness and sky-high floaty feeling I get from your message is a beautiful little cocktail that chills me the hell out when I need it most...and I needed it today, whilst eyeing Chapter 9. 😉😅

English it's not my first language so I'm sorry if you encouter trouble reading this! xoxo

Holy heck, are you kidding me? *bows down in respect* If I tried to write in another language, I would butcher it so hard there'd be no recovering at all. You are fluent, my lovely - coherent and awesome. The only trouble I encountered reading your message was trying to keep my heart from detonating in my chest from the overload of feelings. 💜💜 I thank you for that. It beats the hella insane nerves that eat at me as I return to writing. There's so much heart and healing to be found in this message that I'm sincerely at a loss now....thank you, so, so much.

Huge, HUGE love coming at you from all sides, sweetheart. 🥰

#i'm not crying you are #thank you sweet anon #btb reader kindness #ugh my heart #btb readers #awesome readers are awesome #love and appreciate my readers so damn much #the feels #so much love #btb ask #Shikamaru neji ask #hair tie ask #btb verse ask #anon btb ask

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msfenriss · 4 months

Text

Rayati, honored readers

When I was a baby lesbian in the 80s I frequented the legendary bookstore Lambda Rising, which was located in the rather upscale gayborhood of DuPont Circle in DC. My favorite part of that store was the rack of zines made by queers of all kinds for various queer niches. I picked one up called Artemis, which purported to be for women who like women who look like women. I thought “that kind of sounds like me,” and I avidly read and reread it. It was clear that the community who made this zine were UK-based, and I was a pretty miserable teenager on the east coast of the US, struggling with more than my own share of stuff, so nothing more came of it.

About 10 years later, it was the mid-90s and I was using gopher to read Usenet. I kid you not! That is how ancient I am. I confess that I was poking around a number of groups at that time that fell into the “alt.sex” category. One day there appeared a message on the femdom group about a Feminine Empire where only girls were allowed, and that I must jump through the “shimmering portal” quickly as it would close in short order. There was a URL, which was a thing of which I had only become aware within a year or so of that fateful afternoon.

The site was called Femmeworld, and it was an absolute delight! I won’t go into any detail here about that site, as several very intelligent and competent blogesses here on Tumblr have done that. I learned about blondes and brunettes, and I was struck with a bolt of revelation that I was a brunette, and that explained me! I made sense! Of course I understood that this was all within a fantasy world and that there was no such thing as an Aristasian brunette, but it revealed to me that other women had these feelings and experiences, and had thought about and discussed it enough to invent a fictional designation.

To cut to the chase, here were these women, some of whom were enby, but also female essentialist. They were anti-patriarchal, but anti-feminist. Advocates of complete state welfare (see the “colleges” that girls can choose to live in) but entirely anti-socialist, and in fact monarchical. And of course one can’t hear about “blondes and brunettes” without immediately detecting at least a bit of racism. When questioned about that, they always insisted that in lands where girls were dark-skinned, the blondes simply had hair of silver or white, and honestly it’s a trivial point, and could I please drop the subject?

I won’t go into an extensive discussion of the implications here, but I am sensitive to them. I was raised in an actively anti-racist white family. I always strive to be aware of racism and white supremacy wherever I go in the real world and the virtual. I can only tell you that because all of my interactions were virtual, it would be hard for me to absolve the Aristasians of any such allegations, but I can say that the welcoming, vulnerable, friendly nature of these ladies suggests that hate of any kind would be quite alien to them. There were a couple of girls in Second Life whose avatars appeared to be Black, and they were accepted with as much joy and enthusiasm as all other girls present. More than that I can’t say.

For another 10 years, I popped in and out of Aristasian spaces. I contributed to forums, and even took part for a short time in an online schoolgirl RP by email. Some time in the mid aughts, it was announced that an Aristasian Embassy would be established in the virtual world of Second Life. I immediately started an SL account so I could go there (and how I spent the next 15 or so years in SL is a whoooole other narrative that isn’t particularly relevant.) I attended a couple of balls at the Embassy, and was very graciously complimented on my gown. I was present for Operation Bridgehead, but was privy to very little inside information about the disagreements that ensued. If I knew anything about that, I would not share it here. Despite any philosophical differences with these ladies, I have great respect and affection for them, and would be unwilling to air their dirty laundry, so to speak.

I was privileged to get to know Sushuri Madonna, who was at that time the undisputed leader, at least of the contingent that could be found in SL. She was entirely delightful, intelligent, and kind, and had an extremely delicate nature. Despite my best efforts not to offend, I am sure my most carefully curated speech had to seem terribly coarse to her. We exchanged some email, and she was kind enough to offer editorial assistance with a few bits of Aristasian fiction I was toying with. What little I learned about her personally, I will of course not disclose, but I felt that we were friends, and I cared for her very much. I hope she is still alive and well, and that the demise of the persona called Cure Dolly does not indicate her real life death.

Thank you for reading, and I would very much welcome discussion on the topic from anyone interested.

#aristasia #curedolly #lipsticklesbians #wlw

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cannotfly · 7 months

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fogg's insane asylum for lunatic women.

disclaimer.

i am not a historian, just a girl whose had an interest in historical mental institutions for almost as long as i've loved this musical. as time has gone on, however, i've become more and more upset with the portrayal of fogg's asylum. the movie presents it as some kind of crack house filled with mad women ( all arranged by hair color? ) reaching out and grabbing at whoever comes by. the musical doesn't do much better. while what anthony said about fogg's isn't far off as to what the general public would think about them, "she's trapped in these with all those screeching, gibbering maniacs!" that's not exactly the case. i have been putting together headcanons about fogg's asylum for several months now. i've done extensive research on actual patients, i've read books, etc.

much of this is based on ten days in a madhouse by nellie bly. bly was a reporter in the later 19th century who was assigned to go undercover in a mental institution and report back with what she found. her expose can be found online as a pdf. the language isn't complicated, especially for the 19th century, and while it is a hard read at some points, i very much recommend it. bly interviews the patients and victims of abuse and learns their story. while some of the language is very much of the time, she actually understands the brutalities of a victorian mental asylum.

because of the nature of mental hospitals during the 1840s and johanna as a character, be warned that this meta goes over some very difficult topics such as: abuse of all kinds, torture, eating disorders, period sexism, mental subjects, miscarriages, menstruation, trauma, sexual abuse, illness, drugs, drug withdrawals and chronic pain. due to the length of this meta, i will put individual warnings over each section.

i will be adding onto this meta as i learn more. i don't know everything and there are some sections that likely reflect that. please bare with me as i learn. i do not condone the period attitudes towards women or those who are mentally ill during this time.

many thanks to darks for helping me figure out some details. thank you to misto and jasmine for your support and from keeping me from loosing my mind. thank you to so many of my good friends for supporting me as i wrote this.

despite my sometimes dry tone, keep in mind that this is a century different from our own. they did not have the resources and technology and research that we do know. they were doing the best they could with what we had. this does not excuse their abuse, but it does shed light on why some of treatments were the way they were. i want to give justice to a fictional mental hospital as best as i can. without further ado, fogg's insane asylum for lunatic women.

word count from this point: 6,980

introduction.

warnings for period typical sexism throughout this entire section.

ladies in their sensitivities, my lord / have a fragile sensibility / when a girl's emergent / probably it's urgent / you defer to her gentility - ladies in their sensitivities, sw.eeney t.odd: the d.emon ba.rber of f.leet street

women are often referred to as the fairer sex. the more vulnerable and emotional roughly half of humanity. it should come as no surprise that women made up most of the population of bethlem royal hospital, more often known as bedlam. it's not often you hear of a lunatic asylum made specifically for men, is it? more often there are strictly female asylums or the men and the women are separated into two different wings or even two separate buildings both managed under the same people. bedlam was meant to hold 120 patients, however, overcrowding was a frequent problem of the institution and there were many more patients on the waiting list. because of this long waiting list and the overcrowding at london's most (in)famous insane asylum, most hospitals popped up in and around the city. fogg's insane asylum for lunatic women among them.

fogg's was initially founded by dr. john fogg to compensate for the large amount of the mentally ill ( and homeless and unwanted wives and disabled people ) in london. fogg's is located a few miles west of london, just on the outskirts. this is pivotal since if there is ever an escape, it is dangerous for everyone involved if one of the patients gets into the city. this way, they won't be able to directly find their way into trouble and the police have a better chance at finding them. though this was mostly for the comfort of the citizens of london, who weren't exactly keen on the idea of a madperson running about their neighborhoods.

dr. fogg's son, alfred was the superintendent of the asylum. he was a businessman, not a doctor and introduced ideas to make a profit. this includes selling the inmate's hair. he left most of the dirty work to the doctors, nurses and other staff. doctors weren't willing to put up with the harsh conditions of the asylum and slowly slipped away, which alfred hardly noticed. he died a rich man.

jonas fogg was the nephew of mr. albert fogg. seeing the problems within the madhouse, he began visiting other asylums. this gave him brighter ideas to institutionalize fogg's. the patients would follow a schedule. the patients would be in uniforms. the patients would be divided into different wards accordingly. despite all these changes, jonas fogg is still a mortal man. he doesn't mind the sound of coins jiggling in his pocket. he kept the practice of selling hair, seeing to it himself to make sure that money went straight into the palm of his hand.

judge phillip turpin and jonas fogg met briefly at a pub. mr. fogg not being a stupid man made an agreement with the judge: if judge turpin is to sentence any insane woman, let him send her to fogg's insane asylum for lunatic women. into fogg's humble and loving care. judge turpin agreed and so began their arrangement.

entering.

warnings for period-typical sexism and medical topics.

"i found her! i found johanna! that monster of a judge has locked her away in fogg's asylum. oh, mr. todd she's in there with those gibbering, screeching maniacs!" -anthony h.ope, s.weeney to.dd: the dem.on b.arber of fl.eet s.treet

it is not uncommon to come across some wide-eyed, mysterious woman who seems to be distant from this reality and it is not uncommon for such a woman to find her way into an insane asylum such as fogg's. these poor, mad women need help. ( and they need to get off of society's perfectly straight cobblestone streets. )

reasons for being admitted included, but were not limited to:

learning disabilities

menopause

"domestic trouble"

women doing into debt and unable to recover from the trauma of that

asthma

blindness

deafness

postpartum depression

mental breakdowns

down syndrome

they were sexually abused

they were trying to go to a workhouse, but ended up here

being suicidal

violence

self-harm

grief

sex/sexual dysfunction

fancied other men than her husband

if you come across a woman that fits the description above, please contact the police immediately. they understand what to do in this situation. a judge may see to them and they will have the poor, mad soul seen before a doctor who will ask a series of questions. a standard questionnaire may include questions such as:

"what drugs are you taking?"

"are you married?"

"have you participated in any sex work?" ( although, in a much more dignified manner )

"where are you from?"

"is this your first fit?" ( meaning: is this the first time you've made everyone think you're a lunatic? )

"how old are you?"

"what do you do for a living?"

"how much money do you have?"

the doctor will examine the throat and tongue at this point. once the doctor deems her insane, the police will wait with the woman until an ambulance can arrive for her to take her away. one of the police officers will accompany her as well as a doctor who arrived with the vehicle. the doctor will do his best to soothe and ask any more necessary questions.

once arrived at fogg's, two men will be there to assist the patient inside where she will sit through another examination preformed by a doctor. he will ask similar questions to the ones above. he will examine her lungs and heart. the patient will be lead to a long hallway to be seated next to her fellow patients. thus begins her long stay at fogg's.

johanna experienced a slightly different experience getting inside. after turpin confronted her about her plans to slope with anthony, bamford had to drag her out of the house kicking and screaming as she frantically tried to get away. she was supposed to marry anthony on monday. instead, she was shoved and locked into a carriage as she frantically tried to find a way out of it. inside was bamford as her police escort and a doctor inside that she did not learn the name of. she was dragged inside by bamford and another member of fogg's security. after a brief examination which she tried frantically to escape from and had it not been for bamford's hand on her knee, she thinks she would've been able to get away, she was put into solitary confinement for the night.

solitary confinement is a common punishment in prisons and has been since what may as well be the dawn of time. humans are naturally social creatures and don't do well on their own. to be separated from any human connection can have devastating psychological effects on the human mind. this was also a common punishment at insane asylums. johanna was put into a white, windowless, padded room with a stiff board for a bed and no one around to hear her frantic pleas for help. she was allowed out in the morning. that long, sleepless night was only the beginning of her stay.

daily schedule.

"for i know the plans i have for you, declares the lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope." - jeremiah 29:11

this old testament verse was written by jeremiah. in this chapter, jeremiah tells the jews in babylon to prepare for seventy years of captivity, but is a verse known for its hope and comfort; to realize that suffering has an end. this verse was inscribed to the front of fogg's asylum as a way to bring an idea that the suffering would end.

johanna thought it was ironic.

she wasn't far off: most women who were sent to fogg's didn't make it out alive.

however, she wouldn't see it until after she was let out of solitary. at about 5:30am, two nurses stomped into the cell. before johanna could realize what was happening, they stripped all of her clothes off, threw a uniform at her feet and left with the demand that she get dressed. johanna could only stand there in silence for a few months, unable to grasp what had happened. this was a different kind of vulnerability. with the judge, there was a hole in the wall. she had seen his eye peering through it. but these were women who fought against her weak protests and left her cold and naked. slowly, she began to pull on each of the layers:

a pair of holey stockings

an underskirt of coarse, dark cotton that fell about six feet longer than the actual dress

a cheap, stained, white calico cotton dress that tied with strings around the waist and fell into a straight skirt

asylums tried to be as self-sufficient as possible which meant the patients themselves sewed the uniforms. it is difficult to imagine allowing people who might be at risk of self-harm or have suicidal tendencies to be allowed with scissors and sewing needles. this was greatly overlooked or ignored.

once johanna dressed, the nurses returned to bring her to join a long line of the other patients. they stood two-by-two. each woman wiped her arms and face down with a wet rag before passing it to the next one --- even ones with skin rashes shared their rags with women with perfectly healthy skin. johanna got lucky and got her rag after a healthy woman, but watched in horror as others were not as lucky.

benches were brought in by the nurses. once the patient was done with their rag, they sat down when a nurse would begin to yank through their hair with a rough comb. johanna again tried to run away from the scene, but joined her fellow unlucky women to be met with the comb. however, one of the other nurses stopped the one with the raised comb at her hair. johanna's hair was obviously much healthier than the other's and could catch a hefty price for it --- and perhaps, if they were the ones to tell mr. fogg about this, he might allow them to get some of the cut when the wigmaker came in next. before the nurse could continue combing ( albeit, much more gentle ), johanna politely requested for them just to braid it instead, which was a rare instance of a wish being granted during her stay.

johanna was then rushed to another bench where she waited next to the other patients in complete silence. talking would get their ears smacked, as she quickly learned. they got back into lines of two-by-two before gathering into the breakfast hall.

breakfast consisted of:

a bowl of cold tea

slice of buttered bread, though buttered bread would be given upon request

saucer of gruel

food was almost entirely uneatable. the bread was black and hard. the butter made one's stomach upset. the tea was more of pink color. the gruel was the closest thing to actual food provided, but was mushy and didn't sit well.

despite how terrible the food was, the patients devoured it. they learned to be desperate as this could be taken away from them as a form of punishment. johanna looked away from her food for a second, needing a moment to close her eyes, but when she looked back her bowl and saucer were empty.

once breakfast was over, the nurses struggled to gather the appropriate wards back together and trudge back to their rooms. again, it is important to remember that the asylums tried to be as self-sufficient as possible. this meant the patients also preformed the daily chores. they were given assignments by nurses which included:

sweeping

dusting

making beds

at times, closing the windows

johanna was not raised to be this self-sufficient. she knew how to clean her room at home and the birdcage, but she swept in a confused haze and at a much slower pace than the other patients, something the nurses scolded her for.

once chores were done, they were served a weak and foul cup of tea. this was the most nourishment johanna had that morning. this was around 10am. new patients, such as johanna, were lead to yet another appointment with a doctor. she pleaded her case. she was not insane. she was not her mother. but to no avail. the doctor listened to her heart and to her lungs. he asked a few questions in between flirting with the nurse. the nurse measured her ( 155.58cm or 5'1" and a quarter ) then the nurse told her to get on a scale. this caused johanna to panic and make another attempt at the door. the doctor called for some assistance from the nurses in the hall, who eventually got her on the scale. the doctor said her weight loud and clear for her. after a few more questions and another look at her tongue and throat, she was escorted back to the room.

once tea was over, nurses passed out moth-eaten shawls and white straw hats. arranged into their typical two-by-two pattern, they set out on their daily walk around the premises.

this was one of the best ways to peak at the other patients in other wards at the hospital, but one stood out in particular: a group of patients tied at the waist with a nurse leading them up front. this was hall nine. that ward was located in a separate building than the rest of the asylum, having been built during alfred fogg's reign to be used as a better infirmary. instead alfred made the decision to house the most dangerous and most suicidal patients there. more on them later.

at noon, everyone was gathered back into the cafeteria. dinner's food included fish boiled in water and soup that was more broth than vegetables or meat.

after dinner, the patients gathered into a sitting room with long benches that had no backs. johanna was confused at first when nothing happened other than sitting, but when a patient dared to whisper about how uncomfortable the benches were, a nurse was quick to smack her ear.

from one to three pm, these mentally unstable, stable, or somewhere in between patients were forced to sit on hard, backless benches, doing nothing. as nellie bly said, it would make any sane person go mad. or any insane person go further insane.

the head cook for the staff would bring the nurses fresh fruits and dried delicacies for the nurses to snack on while all the patients could do were try to ignore their grumbling stomachs as they looked on, knowing there was good food, but they wouldn't serve it to them.

by 3:30 pm, patients were once again gathered into the dining hall for a brief snack of gruel. after this, it was back to their rooms where the nurses would put to work on sewing projects. johanna was rather good at this as she'd been sewing all of her life and masted how to make her own undergarments, nightgowns and could make a basic dress. it was mindless, quiet work, though johanna was used to it. the nurses, however, did not like it when she hummed to herself.

5:30 pm meant it was time for supper. dinner was usually a main course of some sort of meat such as mutton or beef and potatoes served with a side of limp vegetables or sour fruit like prunes and buttered bread, though unbuttered bread would be given upon request. just like with any of the meals, any food was fought for. sick patients couldn't stomach the food. healthy patients became sick from it.

evenings could be the most pleasant time of the day if the nurses were in a good mood. there was a piano in one of the rooms which the patients would gather around and request that other patients play it for them. once her fellow patients learned she could sing, johanna was frequently requested, which she obliged to. lullabies were usually what the patients wanted to hear. in some wards, there might even be little dances which the male doctors would join them for. the evenings were a time to feel like normal people again, enjoying the little entertainments that they used to before they had stepped foot inside fogg's.

at eight pm one bath nights which were once a week , patients were filed into bathroom, which was quite literally a bathroom. a large room filled with tubs for the patients. they were ordered to strip their clothes off.

johanna refused to. her body had been seen by too many people already, something she should have the ability of only giving that to whoever she trusted. the judge, the nurses, the doctors, everyone. she felt sick at the thought of all of these patients seeing her so exposed as well.

the nurses did not put up with this. they forcefully stripped her down as they had that morning. johanna quietly wiped away her tears of shock.

the water was ice-cold and murky from the dirt of the patients who used it before her. baths were only allowed once a week. the water was not changed between patients. the nurses would cruelly scrub away at the skin with a small piece of soap that somehow felt dirty. this soap was used on the face and the hair, as well. her skin went from turning blue from the temperature of the water to bright red as the nurse scrubbed. another nurse poured a bucket of freezing water over her head to get her hair. johanna was yanked out of the tub and another nurse shoved a thin shift over her while she was still dripping wet.

it was necessary to settle in for the night as soon as possible. however, it was nearly impossible to catch a wink of rest. night nurses would come in every half and hour, they would loudly gossip to their co-workers, their heels clacked against the floor. johanna could hear a group of night nurses talking about her one night. but it wasn't only the nurses who kept her up.

the other patients, for the most part, weren't mentally well in some capacity. they were deemed insane by victorian standards, though by today they suffered from depression, anxiety, another mental illness, some sort of trauma, etc. there was one old woman who shouted about murder and getting the police all night. another begged for god to let her die. one claimed to dream of her mother taking her away and said that meant her mother would be there today to take her home. her mother never came.

the windows were open. the beds were hard. the patients laid on oilcloth. the sheet they were given didn't full cover patients of average height. and then they were awoken at 5:30 am to repeat all of this.

johanna sang. while the other patients yelled or cried themselves to sleep, she knew the only way for anthony to find her was for her to sing. he knew her voice. that's how he found her the first time. she sang lullabies and the song the beggar woman used to sing below her window. she sang about birds and of the freedom she was so close to having. she sang about love and she thought of anthony when she mumbled those pretty lyrics of everlasting devotion.

he would come for her one day. she would marry anthony on sunday.

sickness.

warnings for sickness, medical malpractice, drugs ( opium skip the section on morphine and laudanum ), drug withdrawals ( skip the sections on morphine and laudanum and the paragraph under that ), blood ( skip the section on bloodletting ).

"she told me that she had just gotten up from a sick bed. her appearance confirmed her story. she looked like one who had had a severe attack of fever. 'i am now suffering from nervous debility,' she said, "and my friends have sent me here to be treated for it.'" - nellie bly speaking of mrs. louise schanz, patient at blackwell's lunatic asylum

sickness was rampant in such institutions. during nellie bly's stay at the woman's lunatic asylum at blackwell island for her expose, she befriended a young woman named tillie mayard who had suffered from a fever to the point where her friends believed she went insane from the illness. they sent her to the asylum. miss mayard was still ill when she was brought to the island. she felt worse and worse as time went on. another young woman got sick because of the poor food. the nurses tried to feed her more of this food, which she refused because she couldn't stomach it especially when she was ill.

even if a patient sought them out, it was rare that a doctor would actually listen to a sick patient pleading for help. the nurses would tell such a patient to stop and the doctor would seek them out later. they never did.

when a patient was actually treated for their ailments, they were given similar treatments to what anyone else during this era would have been given, although usually at a much larger ( and unhealthier dose ) to get the patient to be quiet. these included:

bloodletting: doctors would make a small incision in the arm ( at the elbows was common or sometimes in the wrists ). patients were given a pole to squeeze until a sufficient amount of blood spilled out. the pole allowed the veins to pop more. it was collected in a bowl, under the incision. this practice came from the belief that the ailment was kept in the blood. bloodletting allowed the toxic blood to be separated from the body, thus healing the sick person. the body would be ready to make new, clean blood to fight whatever sickness remained. barbers tended to preform this procedure, but as fogg's was low on staff, they entrusted nurses to do it instead of having to hire a barber.

morphine: this is a strong opiate found in opium. morphine could be injected to treat pain such as menstrual cramps, morning sickness, asthma, headaches and shortness of breath. because it's an opiate, it is also highly addictive. one study conducted by the lancet named it the most addictive substance followed by cocaine and nicotine. withdrawal symptoms are intense and go through several stages. a large overdose can lead to death, however under the circumstances in fogg's, there wasn't proper treatment for overdoses and the nurses would rarely do anything about it if they accidentally gave a patient too much. the first reported case of morphine being used as a poison happened in 1822 when edme castaing was convicted of murdering a patient with a morphine overdose. it isn't known how many patients at fogg's met the same fate either on accident or on purpose.

laudanum: this was the ibuprofen of the 19th century. ten percent opium with up to fifty percent alcohol, it was often mixed with honey or other spices to make it more bearable on the tastebuds and used to treat all sorts of ailments: menstrual cramps, headaches, toothaches, diarrhea and slowing down breathing. it would make the user feel drowsy and euphoric, as these are side effects of opium. the more a person takes opiates, the more that person will need the next time as tolerance will quickly build up. it is highly addictive and causes intense mental impairments where the user will seem to be in a daze and be disconnected from real life. laudanum had two main uses in fogg's: sedate patients and treat pain.

withdrawals would be brutal if a patient's body and mind began to rely on these opiates. they can be intense enough to cause death. it should not be understated how brutal these drugs can be, but it's also important to remember that they didn't have better medicines. victorians did the best with what technology they did have. in fogg's, nurses tended to take advantage of these to deal with the patients.

nurses were not properly trained. these were typically unmarried women who were in need of a job. they couldn't take temperatures properly and rarely provided the help their patients needed.

treatments.

warnings for abuse and torture throughout this whole section, hyperthermia ( skip the section on ice baths ), forced drugging ( skip the section on forced drugging ), forced feeding and eating disorders ( skip the section on forced feeding and the paragraph below it ).

"i would like the expert physicians who are condemning me for my action, which has proven their ability, to take a perfectly sane and healthy woman, shut her up and make her sit from 6 am until 8 pm. on straight-back benches, do not allow her to talk or move during these hours, give her no reading and let her know nothing of the world or its doings, give her bad food and harsh treatment, and see how long it will take to make her insane. two months would make her a mental and physical wreck." - nellie bly, ten days in a madhouse

this is often the most infamous widely-spoken about parts of 19th century mental institutions. the lobotomy ( a surgery used to severe connections in the brain's frontal cortex, which could leave the patient needing to be institutionalized for the rest of their life ) is a common example in the brutality of these hospitals. however, that procedure wasn't performed until 1936. nonconsensual electric shock therapy wasn't adopted until the late 1930s. fogg's, like other victorian mental hospitals, used treatments such as:

restrictions/isolation: this included solitary confinement as discussed earlier and the use of straight jackets. straight jackets were usually made of canvas and when worn, a patients arms would be wrapped around their front and the back would be closed so it was impossible to get out without insistence. straight jackets weren't given out to any patient, though. these were used in cases where nurses became afraid a patient might hurt themselves or others. or, in some cases, if the patient tried to escape.

ice baths: hydrotherapy peaked in the 1850s. several different "types" of baths were invented during this period. it was already becoming popular beforehand. there were certain ways of bathing for lower back pain, for head colds, for period pains, for labor in childbirth, etc. certain kinds of baths were believed to help the mentally ill or disabled as well. however, this was done without the patient's consent. later in the century, turkish baths were used to help patients. however, this did lead to an incident in 1889 when several patients were killed due to poisonous gas. warm baths were also used to calm down the patients or for melancholic ones, but this was less frequent to the ice baths. these were used for those were who "aggressive" or "excitable." a patient would be shoved into the bath, sometimes with restraints over the tub so they wouldn't be able to get out. the nurses would pour more of the ice water on them. they would be left there for hours. this caused some patients to pass out or even die from hyperthermia. there were other methods of ice baths developed, but this was the most common at fogg's.

forced drugging: see above under treatments in the sickness section. patients were frequently sedated to calm them down or if they refused to sleep. typically, morphine was used in fogg's. johanna was unable or refused to sleep most nights. eventually, the nurses interfered by having a doctor inject morphine into her veins. she became reliant on that to be able to sleep.

forced feeding: this was the last resort for patients who refused to eat. in fogg's, most patients who refused to eat were ignored by the nurses and wouldn't get any treatment until a doctor caught on. loss of appetite was common among patients suffering from melancholia and grief as well as some paranoid patients who because of delusions believed the food was poisoned. tube feeding hadn't been invented yet so force-feeding patients would be used with a wooden spoon. a doctor would place a wooden spoon in the mouth and gently rotate to a right angle to keep the mouth open, taking care not to break any teeth. another spoon would place liquid or semi-solid food into the mouth. beef tea, raw eggs ground meat, custards, milk, ale, brandy and sherry would be used to feed the patients. some patients who were refusing to eat would be shown the force feeding process which usually prompted them to start eating.

johanna was not given a chance to be shown this. since she felt like she had little control over her life anymore, this triggered her eating disorder. out of the blue one afternoon while they were sitting, johanna was taken into a doctor's office and force-fed. this was one of the most traumatic parts of her visit. it happened a few times over the next week which made her sick. she made a deal with the doctor that she would start eating again if that meant she wouldn't have to be force-fed. she began taking as little food in as possible without dying. she was afraid of the threat of being force-fed again, but couldn't stomach the food was that served.

abuse.

obvious warning for abuse, mainly physical. skip this section entirely if you are sensitive to that topic.

"there isn't much fear of hurting you. shut up, or you'll get it worse." -miss grupe, nurse at blackwell's lunatic asylum during nellie bly's investigation

it cannot be understated how abusive fogg's asylum was. these places live on in infamy today because of the abuse that happened within their walls. medical malpractice and nurses who weren't properly trained led to many premature deaths. ignorance played a huge part in why the mentally ill were treated like prisoners and like criminals. the causes of mental illnesses like depression and anxiety weren't known nor were proper ways of treating them.

on johanna's second day, an old woman in her hall suddenly collapsed during their sitting hours. when she was unable to get back up, the nurses verbally abused her and hit the poor old woman. eventually, they grew tired of her "antics" ( her crying and begging ) and threw her into the closest in the room. all of the other patients could only sit in horror as they listened to the old woman sobbing and screaming to be let out.

a few months in, one patient eventually got frustrated with mindlessly sewing and asked if she could go for another walk. at that, a nurse pushed her to the ground. another stepped on her fragile ribs until two of them cracked. when the doctor heard, they told him it was because that patient had rammed into the wall over and over again while the nurses tried to get her to stop it.

but the worse of the abuse happened in hall nine.

hall nine.

warnings for physical abuse throughout this entire section, warnings for mentions of chronic pain, spinal injuries, drowning and choking. this section if you need to skip it can be summarized with: johanna was physically abused by the nurses to the point it left her with chronic back pain.

"...to be corrected when they're naughty and rewarded with a sweetie when they're good." -jonas fogg

as described before, hall nine was another building of the hospital. johanna was brought to hall nine after accidentally slicing her arm open with a pair of sewing scissors. she hadn't slept at all the night before since the nurses hadn't injected her with any morphine. she hadn't even realized what happened. a nurse went over, grabbed her arm and showed another nurse. they began to vaguely question her which johanna didn't understand since she delirious. the next day during sitting time, a doctor approached johanna with further questions and had her come to his office again. after a brief examination, the doctors told the nurses to bring her to hall nine. this was when she perked up. she knew what hall nine meant.

she argued with the doctor. the scissors were an accident. she didn't mean to cut herself. she wasn't suicidal.

the doctor ignored her. the nurses checked her into hall nine.

the evenings were spent sitting. they were not allowed to sew. she was not allowed to sing. the nurses were much more cruel.

there were several times, the nurses would choose a patient they hated for little to no reason ( they were loud, they attempted to hurt someone else or themselves, they talked to their neighbor, etc. ) since johanna was quiet, they had her watch the windows and warn them if a doctor was coming. she didn't know if she should let the doctor come save the patient or if she should warn the nurses. another patient allowed the doctor to come. when the nurses were caught, they quickly fibbed. that patient was beaten so brutally, if it weren't for another patient whose late husband was a doctor, she would have died.

two and a half weeks into her stay at hall nine, she suddenly broke down. the weight of everything she experienced so far came crashing down. johanna wasn't able to keep as clean as she tried to be. she was afraid of them cutting off her hair since she could easily strangle herself in it if she tried. she was hurting. she wasn't allowed to sing. she wanted anthony to find her.

the nurses pushed her to the floor and beat her with a broom handle. they jumped on her lower back, injuring her internally. they tied her arms and feet. they threw a sheet over her head, twisting it so she could not breathe. they threw her into a bathtub and held her under the water until she passed out.

johanna woke in the infirmary. the nurses nor the doctors told her what was wrong with her. all she knew is that the pain in her back was so unbearable that she could not move. she wasn't able to swallow well to the point where another doctor had to come in and force feed until he discovered that it physically pained her to swallow. she was given some helpings of broth.

the injury in her back is what we would call a compression fracture in her spine today. this is a type of broken bone that can cause your vertebrae to collapse, making them shorter. because of johanna's eating disorder, her bone density is much less than the average human, making them more suspectable to breaking. she was lucky that her lower back didn't break altogether. she was kept in the infirmary for a few weeks until she had a slightly easier time swallowing solid foods and her back started to get better. she wasn't exactly aware of this time since she was on laudanum for most of it to ease her back pain.

she has a very faint memory of catching a fever from the patient next to her ( since beds were kept close together due to overcrowding in the infirmary ). for this, the doctors gave her a bloodletting while they thought she was asleep. johanna was not. this made her panic, but was unable to protect or fend for herself due to side effects of the drugs.

this compression fracture causes her to have lower back pain for at least another year since victorian medicine didn't have proper back braces. wearing a corset once she was out both helped and did not help. it kept her spine straight which eased the tension on her lower back, but caused pressure at different points of her back.

once she was well enough to go back to typical asylum living, she was bathed and brought to hall four. away from her two and a half hellish experience in hall nine.

johanna.

warnings for mentions of anorexia ( skip the paragraph that begins with "refusal to eat" ), self harm mentions ( this is accidental self harm, but skip the paragraph that begins with "harming oneself" ), sexual assault ( skip the paragraph that begins with "mr fogg was contacted beforehand." ) and a discussion on weight and bmi ( skip the paragraph that begins with "johanna was ninety pounds when she came to fogg's." ).

"poor child. she needs so much correction. she sings all day and all night and leaves all the other inmates sleepless." -jonas fogg

turpin picked out fogg's as a punishment for her disobedience not only because of his agreement with the owner, but also because this hospital was designed specifically for women. with a lack of men, there was less of a chance she would disobey him again. fogg's would "teach her a lesson" but, as he assumed, wouldn't leave her so unattractive that he would no longer desire her.

bamford came four times. the first under turpin's orders. this was about a month into her stay. it was long enough that turpin hoped she would be begging and pleading to return home to marry him. johanna refused bamford's offer. despite her having been bathed an hour prior to their meeting and given a new dress ( as was customary --- they didn't want any of the visitors to believe their patients were being mistreated behind closed doors ), he could see the horror of her brief stay in her eyes. he left, shaken to the core. the next was two weeks later. johanna refused him again. the next was another month later. despite how skinny she'd become ( for a girl who was already barely ninety pounds ), she refused. the last was another month later when bamford pleaded with johanna to let him bring her back. turpin was upet, but most of all, bamford couldn't get the image of his little annie in johanna's shoes. he felt horrible about the abuse she'd suffered. johanna refused.

in 1863, a superintendent at the royal edinburgh asylum, dr. david skae developed a system of diagnosis of the mental kind. these included: congenital insanity, epilpetic insanity, insanity of adolescence, climateric insanity ( menopausal ), insanity of pregnancy, insanity of lactation, hysterical insanity, traumatic insanity, general paralysis and insanity of unknown cause, among others. the medico-psychological association made their own list: mania, melancholia, general paralysis of the insane, epileptic mania, congenital defect with epilepsy, congenital defect without epilepsy and dementia. since this wasn't about fifteen years after johanna was diagnosed her official diagnosis included:

female hysteria: a common diagnosis for this time. it could be sued for a wide variety of mental ailments such as postpartum depression, pre-menstrual syndrome, or if a relative wanted to get rid of a female relative.

refusal to eat: anorexia would not be officially made a diagnosis until later in the century when queen victoria's personal physician did a case study. her refusal to eat would be a sign of "insanity" and the doctors and nurses could use it against her. during meals if a nurse wasn't too preoccupied, sometimes she would come around to where johanna was sitting and mock her for her skinny disposition and about how little she ate.

harming oneself: this would be added to her diagnosis after the sewing scissors incident that lead her to be kept at hall nine.

mr. fogg was contacted beforehand. he was prepared to meet johanna the second day she was at fogg's. he introduced himself. later on, johanna would learn that he had a habit of being unable to keep his hands to himself. that was a fact she quickly learned. he took every opportunity to touch her, to proof his dominance and control over her. it was humiliating. later on, johanna would whisper to anthony that her frequent meetings with mr. fogg made her felt like she hadn't left turpin's house at all. his excuse for meeting with her at least every two weeks came from the fact that they were low on doctors. fogg knew he needed to keep johanna alive for turpin to keep with their agreement.

johanna was ninety pounds when she came to fogg's. when she was in her infirmary, she was at her lowest at sixty-seven pounds. by the time anthony found her, she was seventy-one pounds. her bmi at her lowest was 12.7. a healthy bmi for her height is 17. she was severely underweight. her bmi by the time she escaped was 13.4, still severely underweight. she lost twenty-three pounds during her stay and barely survived.

in the end of march, anthony was finally able to find johanna. bamford was right about to visit her again, but changed his mind after seeing anthony. johanna's plan worked: anthony heard her singing.

a day later, anthony disguised himself as a wigmaker. he came into the asylum and anthony directed fogg to where he saw johanna. she made no noise. anthony grabbed her. fogg threatened both of their lives. when anthony hesitated, johanna didn't: she shot fogg.

her nine-month stay in fogg's shook johanna to her core. it would be another long few months of getting settled into plymouth, trying to recover from such trauma and trying to live a normal life. because of her nightmares and her reliance on opium, johanna would struggle to fall asleep at night. she had an increased fear of doctors and refused to see any for the pain in her back. the next few months and years would be difficult despite her newfound happiness, but she would thank god every night for the rest of her life that she escaped. even if it meant she had to shoot fogg.

johanna would never take a bath or a good night's sleep for granted again. she is safe, but some nights, her mind brings her back to fogg's. she's beyond grateful for the support she has and her slow, but steady healing process.

#WHEW #i am so sorry #uhhhhh i hope anthony knows that he's gonna be johanna's caretaker for the next year :'(#because it is so much worse than i initially thought #anyway if there's something you think i missed or should be part of the warning im me #this is historical fogg's! modern fogg's will probably never get it's own meta but feel free to ask me again it!#*❈ ‣ whence comes this melody constantly flowing? — ( meta. )

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cheacademy · 2 months

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#che academy #Hair extensions academy #accredited hair extensions courses #hair extension training #learn hair extensions online

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reflections-in-a-critical-eye · 9 months

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It's not like I have this on my schedule, but somehow it seems like I end up making a list with thoughts in the middle of the week. They pile up and most of the time, a lot happens in one day.

Someone sent me an ask about Taemin and Key making colorist remarks towards Minho because of his tan. It's also been extensively talked on twitter currently. Yes, it did happen and Shawols are sharing their thoughts, making extensive use of Weverse. No cursing, death threats or cancelling anyone immediately. I think that's an admirable behavior from a fandom that expects certain standards from their own members, but also the kpop artists they like. The remark was indeed wrong to make. Just because something is rooted in a country's history, it doesn't mean it can't be criticized. Our behavior and mentality changes with the times and it is our duty to be informed as members of society and to take into consideration prejudices we have. We're also connected globally and we know what's around us. We also shouldn't sweep under the rug or consider it part of the culture as a way to excuse various -isms and -phobias. But so far, I've witnessed a respectful debate over this, which is very good. Cancelling someone immediately is a waste of time, especially without given the chance for them to learn from it. This could be a more sensitive topic for other people and they have all the right to share their thoughts. For me, Taemin and Key are still the artists that I like and if they do something regarding their remarks, then I'm hoping it turns out well.

I'm not interested in those popularity awards and all the voting efforts because it's not the way I wish personally to engage in a fandom, but I've briefly seen what is happening with the voting for Fact Music Awards. I'm not surprised at Army's behavior and the choice to deal with it the way they do. It all tracks with the usual modus operandi. Perhaps I'm naive once again, but isn't the most obvious solution to just let people simply vote for who they want? Do personal choice and thought have again little importance in that fandom? Or is this pettiness because JM and JK are usually more popular? Absolutely ridiculous issue, but once again it leads to obscene comments which is usually the worst outcome and the most common.

I don't have that much more to say about Jungkook's collabs and how army in general has been responding to that. I'm also done with having that fandom be the center of influence. I find it all irelevant. Everyone can see there's no unity and most of it it's a facade in terms of those who are actively engaging online. Whatever happens, they can twist and turn in order for their current opinions to make sense.

JK's career choices are very far from everything I'm interested in and so be it. I wasn't on tumblr back then, but I would have said the same thing about Jimin and his involvement with the Fast X soundtrack collab. A mess that I almost refuse to acknowledge. The only way I can understand it is he did it for the money and because it's a famous movie franchise. Which I get wanting the money, I really do (at least he released his album that is 100 percent Jimin). I'm not gonna praise everything my fave does just because I'm his fan. Just as it's the case with Jungkook now. It's his choice to release these songs which are deals that involve a lot of money and Western exposure and it's my choice to not like it and talk about it. That's it. I'm also not canceling him, lol. How could I?

For the first time, I find myself liking an idol only based on his looks and it's so refreshing to not know almost anything? I don't care about his music, his ships, any potential drama, nothing. It's just Jeonghan and is beautiful hair and thanks to Paris FW and the YSL show in early 2023, now I follow focus accounts with cute pictures 😊 Oh, he's a libra like Jimin and born in the same year 👀

I've started watching Cassandro, I'm only half way through it because I had to prepare dinner and then I read for a bit. But it reminds me once again how good of an actor Gael Garcia Bernal is and how his filmography is so freaking cool, from beginning until today. He's always taken "risks" and it paid off.

And speaking of reading, there's this article in The New Yorker (I'll link it below). It takes a bit more than an hour to finish, but it's worth it and I really recommend it. The subject focus is Evy who at the age of nine, spent a few months in the 1970s in a villa with other children where doctors/researchers did experiments. What the article is actually investigating, alongside Evy's journey as well, it's these institutions that were opened in Austria in the second half of the 20th century and which were basically places of torture. And as barbaric as it sounds for that period, the existing mentality of some researchers at that time was that in order for children to grow up as functional members of society, they had to learn how to behave. Forcefully. The focus was mostly of sexuality and how expressions of it must be eradicated through punishments and medication. Coming from a working class background, living in an orphanage, having too much energy, were all elements that had to be punished and converted. It ties with fascist ideology not only through ideas, but also with the people who used to run these experiments. There's a lot more in the article, some of it shocking and heartbreaking and it's hard to grasp how those kids had to live with that trauma.

#m thoughts #m middle of the week list

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lolablackwrites · 1 year

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MC Mixer #2--Alice x Bastien

Here is my submission for week 2 of @choicesmcmadness ‘s MC Mixer!

Hello, Trend readers! Check out this online exclusive sneak peek from our upcoming exclusive interview with the Duke and Duchess of Valtoria, Alice Ayers and Bastien Lykel.

—Ana de Luca

***

Ana: As the newest duke and duchess of Cordonia, the two of you must have to attend a lot of parties.

Alice: I find them easier to stomach if I think of them as networking events.

Bastien: Which they are—from the outside it might look like just a party, but policies and international relations can be made or broken at these events. Alice in particular has been very adept at navigating these and strengthening Cordonia’s position on the world stage.

Ana: My other sources have said the same thing.

Alice: (laughing) You both give me too much credit. It has to do with my years of bartending and learning how to talk to just about anyone.

Ana: A skill I’m sure comes in handy, especially at events with an open bar…

Alice: I can neither confirm nor deny this…although I did once impress another member at court with my knowledge of top shelf whiskey.

Ana: I’d be remiss if I interviewed you for Trend and didn’t ask you about fashion—what are you wearing to these events?

Alice: If it were up to me, I’d exclusively wear jeans and my leather jacket. (Laughs). But in the best interest of Valtoria and Bertrand’s blood pressure, I’m very fortunate to have those with better fashion sense than me at my side—especially Hana.

Ana: Just to clarify, you mean Lady Hana Lee?

Alice: Of course. She’s an incredibly talented seamstress and the only reason I look even mildly presentable most of the time is because of her.

Ana: Lady Hana is quite talented—the photos of your wedding dress were stunning. Now, Bastien, I understand you had a hand in that?

Bastien: Only in that I recruited Hana to make Alice’s dress, I can’t take any credit for the final product.

Ana: And what about the fashion you wear to these events?

Bastien: I honestly wasn’t aware anyone was looking at me, seeing as I’m always standing next to her.

Alice swats his arm and smiles before taking his hand.

Alice: You don’t give yourself enough credit. You’re particular about your suits and you always have them tailored so they fit you perfectly. Your style is timeless.

Ana: I have to agree—I’ve had a lot of men asking me about your suits.

Bastien: It’s like Alice said, it’s all about the tailoring.

Ana: Let’s talk a bit more about party prep—what do you do to get ready before any big event?

Bastien: Nothing too extensive, just a shower and shave. I can get away with a lot less than Alice.

Ana: It’s true, men get off easy. Alice, what about you?

Alice: It depends on the event, really. Sometimes I hire someone to do my hair and makeup so I’m sure things turn out right, other times I do it myself. Mostly my party prep includes psyching myself up to be “on” for the event. Despite how I might come across, I’m a homebody at heart.

Ana: As we know, you two are currently expecting your first child, so arranging for child care isn’t an issue quite yet.

Alice: (Laughs as she places a hand on her stomach). Not yet, for now this little one just goes with us. But that is something we’re going to have to consider sooner rather than later.

Bastien: Because of our obligations at court, we’re already starting that process now and reviewing applicants for a nanny.

Ana: I can only imagine what that process looks like, especially as King Liam as named your child as the royal heir.

Alice: Olivia is personally vetting each applicant.

Ana: Given the queen’s reputation as a Nevrakis, I can only imagine what that entails.

Alice: She’s…thorough. And a force to be reckoned with, which is why we love her, both as a friend and as the queen of Cordonia.

Ana: It’s true, our beloved queen is a powerhouse. Let’s circle back to your party prep—how do you usually get to your events?

Bastien: Given that we attend many events while being hosted here or at the homes of the other members of court, our travel usually includes walking downstairs. But when given the opportunity, I’ll drive us.

Alice: Bas restores vintage cars and I get to be the lucky one who is chauffeured around. Who wouldn’t love that?

***

The full interview with the Duke and Duchess of Valtoria will run in our next print issue.

#mc mixer #getting ready #Alice Ayers #Bastien Lykel #The Royal Romance #Bastien Lykel x MC #Guarded Hearts #The Guarded Heir

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suspendedcosmos · 2 years

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Nightlights and Nail Polish

"I like pretty things." Yuuri breathes, forgetting himself, and blushes when Viktor laughs quietly into the minimal space bridging the gap between them, running his thumb over the soft line of Yuuri's jaw.

“That's wonderful, Yuuri."

word count: 2k

open on ao3 or read below the cut;

“Viktor,” Yuuri asks, eyes closed against the brush Viktor dusts over his eyelids, “When you had longer hair, did the ISO ever try to make you, uh, change it?”

“Hm?” Viktor’s hand pauses briefly, and then starts back up again in the same moment. He tips Yuuri’s chin up with his hand, and Yuuri blushes down to his toes. “Yes, they didn’t really like it. I was encouraged on more than one occasion to cut it, you know how they are. They like to promote athletic masculine men, and I wasn’t that. Why do you ask?”

“Oh, well, I just remember that your scores dipped a little when you were eighteen or nineteen? It didn’t seem justified to me since you were clearly improving — I guess I’ve always wondered if the way you presented yourself at the time had something to do with it, since they improved again later.”

Yuuri also remembers being fourteen and picking fights on skating forums with malicious posters who insisted that not only were Viktor’s lower scores deserved, but that they should actually be even lower?Leading to Yuuri spending extensive amounts of his free time in adolescence personally scoring Viktor’s performances correctly online to defend his honour.

“Yakov implied to me once that they had offered a score boost in exchange for me keeping my hair at a more traditional length. He wasn’t happy about it and I certainly wasn’t either.” Viktor chuckles quietly, and when he moves his hand away from Yuuri’s face briefly, Yuuri’s eyes open to see that he’s now fishing for something else in his kit. “I love this sport dearly, Yuuri, but you’d be hard-pressed to find its integrity sometimes.“

He takes gentle hold of Yuuri’s face again and tells him to close his eyes but not too tight. The little brush is cool when it makes contact with his eyelid, and the air reaching the liquid left behind on his skin leaves him soothed.

“So, you refused and your scores went the other way?”

“It wasn’t a particularly severe reduction, I still won most competitions because my scores were typically a lot higher than most in the first place. But it was enough that people noticed, I suppose. They might have improved again when I did cut my hair by my own decision, but I made sure I continued to wear dresses and glitter and all kinds of pretty things in my programs so they knew that I wasn’t doing it for them.”

Yuuri had particularly fallen in love with Viktor’s exhibition costume from last season. Royal blue has always been his colour, especially pooling around his thighs in light imitation of a cresting wave. He toes the line between femininity and masculinity masterfully, in a way that Yuuri has admired and envied for many years.

“I like pretty things.” Yuuri breathes, forgetting himself, and blushes when Viktor laughs quietly into the minimal space bridging the gap between them, running his thumb over the soft line of Yuuri’s jaw. It doesn’t matter how much Yuuri runs or how healthily he eats, his face is always a little round. Viktor says he likes it though, likes squishing his cheeks because they’re so adorable, apparently, so Yuuri doesn’t mind too much.

“That’s wonderful, Yuuri. You’re certainly beautiful yourself, the seductress is the perfect role for you.” He moves over to the other eye with the brush, “What made you decide to embody her instead?”

Yuuri furrows his brow, taking a few moment before he speaks, “When Minako helped me learn how to carry myself in a more feminine manner, it felt like something was slotting into place that I hadn’t realised wasn’t right before. I think I like being able to embody multiple genders, I like being the beautiful woman.” Viktor hums quietly, like he understands, and then, holding onto that shred of comprehension, he asks, “What do you feel?”

“I don’t suppose I feel much connection to any gender. Of course, sport demands that we pick one so we have a category to compete in, but I don’t mind since I choose what I want to do regardless of expectation, and I don’t feel inclined to publicly explain my attitude towards my expression anyway. I just think of it as something fun to play around with in performance.” He speaks fondly, a warmth to it that makes Yuuri wonder if he’s turned those words over in his head plenty of times before, never having the chance to actually speak them, the way Yuuri has too.

He hears Viktor set the brush aside first. “You can open your eyes, now. Oh! This suits you perfectly, I was right.” And when he opens them, Viktor’s sitting in front of him again, this time holding out the compact Yuuri knows he likes to keep with him at all times. He drags his eyes from the snoozed little heart of Viktor’s smile and takes the compact, peering into his newly painted reflection. “Do you like it?”

Yuuri nods slowly, glancing up, “Thank you for doing it for me. I haven’t used much makeup in years…”

Viktor looks awfully pleased with himself, and Yuuri’s heart aches wonderfully, “Of course, Yuuri, I’m happy I could do this for you.”

He lets Yuuri stare into the miniature mirror a while longer while he puts his brushes away in his ridiculously large makeup kit, with lots of little shelves and dividers for all kinds of things Yuuri doesn’t know the name of. He stands to set it back down on the vanity behind Yuuri and goes to retrieve a box from the mahogany cabinet he’d had imported from Saint Petersburg in April.

After turning off the room’s main light — full lighting no longer necessary with the makeup finished — and switching on his nightstand lamp, he plops back down into the chair across from Yuuri with an accomplished sigh and balances the box on both of their thighs between them. Leaning into Yuuri's space a little, he lifts the lid off of the box to reveal an array of small glass bottles, arranged by the looks of it in order of brand and then colour. Yuuri notices three bottles of silver polish — metallic, glitter, iridescent. There’s one hardly used bottle of metallic gold next to them.

“Which colour would you like? It doesn’t have to match with your costume — we’ll probably use black or red for performances — this is just for fun.” Viktor jiggles the box and the bottles clack together quietly, a sound Yuuri finds he likes both for its nostalgia quality, and how it makes his tired eyes droop a little.

He spots a pale blue polish in the corner of the box — Hasetsu’s ocean, Viktor’s eyes. “This one, please.”

Viktor plucks the bottle of blue and two others of clear polish from the box and leaves them on the vanity. Once he’s put the box aside, he sets to work applying a clear base coat of polish to Yuuri’s nails.

Viktor has a delicate touch. He presses his upturned hand to Yuuri’s, strokes Yuuri’s wrist bone with his fingers and carefully picks up any stray polish from his skin with his thumbnail. They bask in the quiet for a while, listening to the gentle bustle of customers in the common room downstairs and Yuuri watches Viktor smile softly to himself for the entirety of the base coat application.

By the time he’s finished and reaching for the blue polish, the clear coat has dried on Yuuri’s right hand so he starts there again, and before Yuuri can fall back into a daze of watching the quirk of Viktor’s lips, Viktor decides to speak.

‘’Thank you for asking me about those things, Yuuri. It's rare to have someone to share them with, even less so with someone who understands. I feel very lucky that you do. Can I tell you a secret? Sometimes, I think about growing my hair long again. What do you think? Would l still suit it?”

Yuuri practically swoons. Maybe if Viktor stuck around long enough, Yuuri could brush it for him… “Yes, I loved your long hair, just as much as your short hair.” And then, a little more hesitantly, he adds, “I grew my hair out when I was fifteen because of you.”

And Viktor glows from his dimpled cheeks to the corners of his eyes. “Really? Wow! Does Mama Hiroko have pictures? I'll have to ask her to show me.”

It takes everything in Yuuri not to flail his hands abortively and ruin Viktor’s neat work, so he just shakes his head as much as he can without jostling himself, “Oh God, please don't ask! I'm not very photogenic now, much less back then. They're all really embarrassing.”

Viktor tuts, pointing the nail polish brush at Yuuri, “Now, now, Yuuri. You are nothing less than gorgeous, on and off the ice. Don't be mean to my favourite skater, he’s very special. His coach is tough enough on him.” And then he winks, and Yuuri knows it’s only a gentle reminder.

“Sorry. Sorry, you're right.”

”We all have things to work on, zolotse, it's okay. You've already become much more confident since l just got here, I can see it in your skating. I'm proud of you.”

Yuuri’s stomach flips at that. He hardly remembers to speak, his brain so close to shutting off. “Ah, thank you.”

And then Viktor, who never seems to miss a thing, tugs Yuuri closer by his hand and murmurs, gleeful, “Still so shy, Yuuri. Am I embarrassing you with my compliments?”

Yuuri’s left to stammer for a few moments, brain completely wiped at the sudden closer proximity, but he’s saved by beloved Makkachin nudging open the cracked door. She pads along the floor, looking just as worn out as Yuuri suddenly feels, and flops down by Yuuri’s legs, closing her eyes. Viktor forgets to expect an answer from Yuuri as he leans down to scratch Makka behind the ears, cooing probable Russian nonsense to her. Yuuri mourns his inability to join in with the petting for now, lest Makka’s fur be matted with nail polish.

They’re mostly quiet through the remaining application of the polish and then the clear top coat, making passing comments about what they can cover tomorrow at training, where they’ll go to eat lunch, cooing at a sleeping Makka. Viktor finishes the last nail with a flourish of his fingers on the brush, because of course, and closes the final bottle of polish with a quiet “Ta-da!”. He turns Yuuri’s hands this way and that, peering closely most likely to check for any spilling into his cuticles. “There! That looks great. We just have to wait for them to dry now. I asked Mama to make us katsudon for dinner, are you hungry?”

Yuuri blinks, “But it's the off season, l haven't won anything.”

And Viktor waves him off, “Finding a look you feel comfortable performing in is an achievement in my opinion. We’ll run it off together tomorrow. Now, do you want to keep this on for going downstairs?” He holds his hand out, touches the backs of his fingers to Yuuri’s cheekbone. Yuuri barely hesitates to lean into it. He doesn’t hesitate much at all these days.

“Yeah, Minako and Okaasan would like to see, I think.”

“Great! Thank you for spending the evening with me, Yuuri, I love this kind of thing.” He presses a soft kiss to Yuuri’s brow then leans back enough to face him, tapping his own cheek.

“Viktor, I’m wearing lipstick.”

“That’s the fun part, Yuuri!” So with a little embarrassed huff he leans closer and opts to leave a very quick kiss high on Viktor’s cheekbone, a saturated wine crimson imprint left behind. Viktor leans around him to look at the vanity mirror, delighted. Yuuri’s heart soars.

“Thank you, again. I had fun too.”

And now, they’ll clean everything on Viktor’s vanity away and go downstairs to eat, Yuuri will flush under complimented from his parents and Minako and undoubtedly Viktor again. They’ll take Makkachin for a walk by the beach after eating and run around with her for a while and return by sundown. But the part Yuuri most looks forward to is sitting back in Viktor’s room tonight, a hand under his chin and another removing the makeup from his skin delicately with a wipe. He looks forward to the heart of a tired smile and arms around him and sleeping next to the person he likes best. It’s only a few sweet hours away, now.

#yuri on ice #yuri!!! on ice #yuuri katsuki #katsuki yuuri #victor nikiforov #viktor nikiforov #viktuuri #victuuri #victuri #vikturi #myfics

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