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nordschleifes · 6 months

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chapter twelve — juro que

➝ love is always the best medicine, and charlie is willing to give fernando all the doses he needs to recover.

➝ word count: 5,9k

➝ warnings: hallucinations, hospital, puppets and ron dennis (not in that order)

➝ author's note: tagging @christianpulisic10, @alonsogirlie, @he-is-the-destined, @sunnytkm23 and @enaticosencantados as requested.

The lights obscured Fernando's vision, the loud sound of people applauding making him feel dizzy as he tried to make out his surroundings. The place reminded him of a familiar television studio he had been to a few weeks earlier to promote the race in Las Vegas. What was he doing there again?

“Wait a second… Why am I in Madrid? Shouldn't I be in the United States?”, he thought.

— We're back with Fernando Alonso, two-time Formula 1 world champion and Aston Martin driver — he heard a familiar voice say. He turned his head to the right and managed to focus his vision on the face of Pablo Motos, the host of the television show he had just made an appearance on. Only this time, he had a dark green headset on his head.

He raised an eyebrow, confused. Why was he wearing one of the headphones from the Aston garage? Even more perplexing, why was he speaking in English? Fernando thought about prodding him to ask him when he had learned English in the first place, because he knew Pablo didn’t speak the language that well. As he reached out to tap Pablo on the shoulder to ask, he felt a twinge of pain in his hand, as if something had pierced the skin.

— Fernando, the last time you were here, we already talked about the season and adapting to a new team, but we need to talk about this — Pablo said, pointing to the screen on the right side of the stage. The images projected on it made Fernando’s stomach twist.

It was a picture of the moment he met Charlie in the Aston Martin garage after his victory in Montreal. From the moment Fernando had crossed the finish line, all he could think about was sharing it with her. After all, she was responsible for their victory that day. She’d made that joy possible. Charlie believed in him and urged him on, even when he thought he’d never be able to catch Max, and their efforts had paid off.

However, Fernando remembered how he felt at the moment in the picture. Their hug carried so much more than the joy of victory. It was that moment, when Charlie was in his arms, laughing and wiping away her tears, that Fernando realized that he loved her.

— Yeah, that’s me and my race engineer...

— You two are very good friends, aren't you? — the host asked, a mischievous smile on his face.

— Yeah, Charlie is a good friend of mine — Fernando answered, trying to ignore the feeling that he had already answered that question before. “People ask about her all the time, this is normal”, he thought to himself, squirming uncomfortably in the chair he was sitting on — She's always by my side, she's my eyes outside the car, so to speak.

— Well, I know of two… I think calling them people would be a stretch, but they’re both very interested in discussing this with you — Pablo said, before turning to the audience, giving them a very rehearsed-looking smile — Everyone, please give a round of applause for Trancas and Barrancas!

In front of him, two light purple puppets with bulging eyes and yellow teeth rose from a cut-out space of Pablo’s desk. For some reason, Fernando never realized how comical they looked, intended to be a cartoonish impression of what an ant looked like. They normally had some sort of prop or costume, but this time, Fernando was shocked when they each were wearing brown wigs with long hair and wispy bangs, with dark green headsets on their heads to match Pablo’s. One of them — Barrancas, the one with the unibrow and buck teeth — had his hair down, while the other puppet, Trancas, who had a vacant expression and a singular, off-center tooth, had his wig styled in a messy bun.

They were dressed as Charlie.

— Good evening! Good evening! — Trancas said, turning to the audience and nodding, his pupils rattling humorously around the plastic domes that formed the puppet’s eyes. They were also speaking English, which gave Fernando even more of an uneasy feeling.

— Good evening, Fernando — Barrancas said, his bangs falling awkwardly over his monobrow.

— Good evening — he murmured, confused. Things were starting to feel distinctly odd — Why are you wearing those outfits?

— We decided to wear these things to make you more comfortable, and because it seems to be in style now — Barrancas said, shaking his head and ruffling his hair.

— And because you like Charlie…

— Shut up, Trancas — the puppet scolded, before turning to Fernando again — So, taking advantage of your being here, we decided to submit you to a test that you’ve done before, but this time, we have a bigger, better, more accurate version, to see if you remain sincere in your answers or if you are…

— Easily swayed by a pretty woman — the other puppet said, turning toward the audience as they broke out into cheers and whistles.

— What do you think, Fernando?

He didn't have time to respond before the puppets cheered and the crew came onto the stage with the equipment for the game, as loud music and applause filled the studio. Before he knew it, Fernando was strapped to the chair he’d been sitting on, with sensors strapped to his chest, arms, and legs. The one on his right leg had been cinched a bit too tight, causing his ankle to hurt.

— Are you ready? — Barrancas asked, not waiting for a response from Fernando before continuing — Let’s get started!

More applause. More of the suspenseful soundtrack in the background. More lights. More pain.

— Fernando Alonso, if that's really your name — Trancas began, his antennae and pupils shaking — Tell us, honestly and don't lie… Do you like Charlie Whitlam?

Fernando blinked. “What kind of question is that?”, he wondered.

— Yes, I do.

One of the lights that had been placed on the table came on, and the public reaction was completely negative, as well as the sound that went off in the studio.

He was lying.

— I can't believe it, Fer — someone said beside him. When he turned his face, the pilot realized that it was no longer Pablo Motos who was there, but Alberto, wearing a blue sweatshirt and his arms crossed on the table — Are you lying to the whole world straight away?

— What are you doing here, Galle?

— That doesn't matter, now answer the question.

— But…

— Mr. Fernando Alonso — Trancas said, his voice high and shrill — Do you like Charlie Whitlam?

— No? — he replied in a low voice, without any certainty.

Green light. “But how?”, the driver thought.

— Well, you don't like her — Barrancas said, ruffling his dark hair — So does that mean you love her?

Fernando swallowed hard.

That word seemed small compared to what he felt for Charlie.

After Andrea broke up with him, Fernando simply stopped thinking about trying to maintain a romantic relationship. Quite apart from the strain of a life of travel and constant and total focus on the races he needed to do, there was the whole issue related to his desire to maintain his own privacy while being around people who were clearly too delighted or scared with the fame and the spotlight to continue with the relationship.

In the end, love became a futile effort, a waste of time and energy he preferred to save for his professional life. Until Charlie sat next to him on the tires during pre-season testing.

She was an interesting enigma for Fernando. She'd had a completely different upbringing than he had, but with the same result. She had been fascinated by cars since she was a little girl and enjoyed karting as much as he did. She understood the world of Formula 1 as much as he did. Rather, she loved that world.

Falling in love with Charlie was easy. When Fernando realized it, he had a sinking heart, holding her while she had a panic attack due to the storm. He, who never minded the rain, came to dread it every time he was next to her. He couldn't bear to see Charlie shaken like that again, completely torn to pieces in front of him.

She deserved to be happy, a wide smile lighting up her expression, her eyes narrowed under the bangs that made her completely unique in his eyes. Charlie deserved it and Fernando was willing to give it to her, whether it was on the track or when they were alone in their little bubble. He would give her the whole world, even if it meant his ruin.

— Yes. I love Charlie.

The green light flickered in front of him, causing him to let out a sigh of relief. He knew he was speaking the truth, but there was a certain tension in having his own words called into question.

— Do you want to date her? — Trancas asked.

— Well, we kind of date…

Red light. Siren. Lie.

— Have you asked Charlie to be your girlfriend yet? — Barrancas questioned.

— No, but… Do I need to?

— C’mon, Fernando! — someone shouted from the audience. Turning to face forward, the driver found Lance on his feet, looking completely outraged by his answer — Of course you do! You told me that yourself, that you needed to talk to her...

— The problem is, when I thought about doing that, she just ran out of my room in her underwear…

A wave of gasps rose from the audience as a horn blared through the studio. Looking at the other people, Fernando realized that he was facing people he knew. Lewis, Flavio, Giancarlo, Jarno, as well as Raquel and Dasha, were all there, protesting his words.

— Hey, hey, hey, hold on, champ! — one of the puppets interrupted him suddenly — This is a family show, no details like that…

— But I didn’t say anything…

— Doesn't matter, we can only talk about stuff like that after ten, okay? — the ant said.

— Mr. Alonso, answer us with complete sincerity — Barrancas began — And without lying, eh? Are you willing to someday marry Charlie Whitlam?

The question made his heart sink inside his chest. He had fantasized about his wedding a few times when he was young, especially when he was engaged to Raquel. However, after his divorce, it became just another beautiful experience of life that had come to an end. Fernando had even thought about getting married again, first with Lara and then with Linda, but nothing very concrete.

Then he saw Charlie in that white jumpsuit at the boutique in Lugano, looking into his eyes through the reflection of the mirror. His mind drew the scenario almost automatically. White lace, hair up, a shy smile on her face and white English roses in her hand.

— No. I will marry her.

Green light. Truth.

— Interesting — a deep voice replied, the British accent rising. Looking to the side again, Fernando found that Alberto was no longer there, but Ron Dennis. Wearing a suit and tie, the man was smiling at him in a rather sadistic way as he stroked a very familiar orange cat — And do you think she wants to marry you?

— Yes.

Red light. Lie.

— Oops — Trancas said, laughing — I think you're wrong.

— Charlotte is an amazing woman, Fernando — Ron said, running a hand over the fur of the cat he was holding — She deserves the best there is in this world.

— I know, and I'm the best for her.

Red light. Lie. Looking at the device placed on the table, right in front of him, the driver was completely shocked.

— Even you don't believe that, Fernando — Ron said, chuckling.

— I do believe it, she is the woman of my life! — he exclaimed — I don't even know what you're doing here, you have nothing to do with it.

— Of course I do, who brought you back to McLaren in 2015? — the man asked — You would never have met Charlotte if it weren't for me. I even think you owe me a thank you.

— First, it's Charlie, she doesn't like being called Charlotte. Second, I won't thank you, those years at McLaren only hurt everyone!

Green light. True.

— I call her whatever I want, I know what's best for her.

— No, you do not know. Charlie is not a child. She knows what's best for herself. And I'm only going to believe that she wants nothing to do with me anymore when she tells me so.

Ron pressed his thin lips together.

— And while she doesn't speak?

— I'll keep imagining our lives, our wedding, even our children.

— Do you want children? — Trancas asked. Looking at the puppet, he couldn't help but smile.

— I do. And Charlie will be their mother.

There weren't any horns or lights going on. Suddenly, there was nothing else holding Fernando to the bench, not even Trancas and Barrancas in the space in the middle of the table. There was no audience, no soundtrack. There was just him and Ron Dennis, holding Charlie's cat in his lap and scratching its pointy ears.

— I think your time here is up — the man said, getting up from the bench.

— My time? — Fernando asked.

— They are waiting for you — Ron replied, placing the cat in his arms.

— They? Who are you talking about?

— Your exit is through that door — Dennis said, pointing to a corner of the studio behind him — And don't forget to give him back to his owner.

It was time for Fernando to turn his head to find the door for his former team boss to disappear. He was alone, holding the feline Ron in his arms, completely confused. Looking at the cat, the driver was in doubt for a few seconds before heading towards the door, feeling some irritating pain in his right foot.

When he opened the door, the light overshadowed his vision for a few seconds. Blinking his eyes hard and passing his free hand over his face, it took Fernando a few seconds to realize where he was. The well-wooded lane, with benches positioned just ahead of him, gave him a good lead. However, it was a man passing by wearing a familiar shirt that confirmed his suspicions.

He was in Oviedo.

Walking through the park, Fernando had no idea what to do. Should he try to go home? But if he was downtown, he would need to take a cab to Cayes, where his parents' house was. “Do I even have any money for a cab?”, he asked himself, looking for a place to stop and look for some money inside his jeans.

Then, he heard a familiar laugh.

It was a laugh he loved.

Turning back, he saw a group sitting under some shade. The older couple were holding each other, watching a little girl tell something, gesturing with her hands. Beside them, another couple with two teenage girls were listening intently to the smaller one, as was the other woman, who had a bulging belly.

It was his parents.

Lorena and Edo. Maria and Bianca.

Charlie.

— The duck said ‘quack’ and went back to the lake with the piece of banana I gave him — the little girl exclaimed — Did it like it, mamá?

— I'm sure, my dear — Charlie replied, running a hand through the girl's dark hair before she turned away. The strong chin, sweet smile and blue eyes was what he needed to be sure, eyes filling with tears.

He was looking at his daughter.

— Come on, Bia — the girl said, the wind swaying her green dress — Let's play ball!

His niece smiled as she got up and ran after her cousin, who was holding a white soccer ball. Watching the two play, Charlie rubbed her belly, probably thinking about what it would be like when their other child arrived. Walking slowly towards them, Fernando couldn't stop thinking about how lucky he was.

That was his family, his life. He had parents, a sister, a brother-in-law and two nieces that he loved unconditionally. He had a partner he was completely in love with and two kids with her. Two pieces of his own heart out of his chest, the two greatest treasures he could have in life.

— Papá! — the little girl exclaimed, with a wide smile, waving at him as she guided the ball towards him.

— Mi cielo — he replied, as he followed, the pain in his arm from holding Ron growing stronger.

— Look, papá, I know how to do just like Vini!

— Yes, mi cielo...

— Get the ball, papá — the girl said, kicking the ball hard.

As the ball hit Fernando squarely in the face, his vision went white.

Charlie was tired. Tired of crying, tired of walking the hospital corridors, tired of sitting there, staring at Fernando, completely inert, while the machine above him beeped rhythmically, indicating that his heart was still beating. It was a sign that he was still with her, just not in the way she wanted.

She, along with Luis, Edo and Alberto, were informed early on Sunday morning that Fernando's injuries were not life-threatening, and that he should make a full recovery. The news was met with sighs of relief and thanks to God in whispered Spanish. However, that didn't mean he was out of the woods, quite the contrary. In addition to the ankle fracture that required surgery to stabilize, Fernando had suffered a grade-three concussion, which meant the end of the season for him and, in a way, for Charlie as well.

— He's going to be very upset — Luis muttered, putting one hand in his pocket, something everyone there agreed on. Fernando hated missing a free practice, much less a race. Breaking the news to him would be difficult, but that was a matter to be discussed with him awake.

That is, when he woke up.

After Fernando had surgery and was transferred to a room, his doctors expected him to wake up after the anesthesia wore off, but that did not happen. A neurologist brought in for a consult examined Fernando and determined that he was experiencing an expected reaction from his body, considering that he had already had other concussions of varying grades. A neurological exam with an EEG showed that his brain activity was normal, and he was just in what was functionally a very deep sleep, but that didn't make the wait any easier.

Looking at the hands on the wall clock only made Charlie feel more anxious. The feeling of helplessness in the face of the situation was overwhelming inside her chest and there was nothing she could do but take quick naps and sip cups of coffee that seemed completely tasteless.

Luis, Edo, and Alberto offered to take turns, to allow everyone a few hours off from keeping vigil at Fernando’s bedside, but Charlie declined. Something inside her told her that she would feel better if she went to the hotel to take a shower, eat a real meal and sleep in an actual bed, but doing so would mean leaving the man she loved alone. What if he woke up and she wasn’t there? She wasn't capable of that, not when she'd made that mistake before.

He needed her and Charlie was determined to stay there as long as she had to, even if she had to fight her own body. But with the arrival of another night, she was starting to lose the fight. With her head resting against her hand and her eyes closed, she was dozing lightly, the sound of the equipment monitoring Fernando's vital signs lulling her into a light sleep.

— Charlie? — a whisper made her shift in her chair. It was definitely some sort of auditory hallucination, she thought, because of how tired she was.

However, hearing the whisper a second time, Charlie was sure someone was calling her. Opening her eyes, she found Fernando with his eyes half closed, watching her. Running a hand over her face, she couldn't believe it.

— Fer — Charlie replied, jumping to her feet, her eyes filling with tears — It's me, I'm here.

— Where am I? — he asked.

— You're in the hospital — she said, wiping a hand over the tear that had trickled down her cheek. Charlie couldn't believe he was finally awake.

— In Vegas?

— Yes, we're still in Las Vegas.

He lifted his hand slowly towards hers, which was resting on the cold bed rail. Feeling his fingers land over hers, Charlie let go of the plastic and took his hand.

— What happened? Did I crash?

— Yes. You touched Pierre at the second chicane and flipped your car on the first lap.

He looked away, trying to move his body. After confirming that the hands and arms were fine, he tried moving his feet, first the left and then the right. Realizing he couldn't move his right foot, he lifted the blanket, staring at the soft cast that immobilized part of his leg.

— You've broken your ankle, they had to do surgery — Charlie said — The accelerator pedal broke in the crash, all of the force must have gone into your foot, so they have it immobilized. Oh, and you had a concussion too, but no other serious head injuries. I mean, aside from the fact you’ve been unconscious for two days, but…

— Two days? — he asked, looking shocked.

— Yes, two days. It's Monday evening.

He pressed his lips together, staring at the logo on her clothing. Looking down, Charlie felt a little self-conscious about wearing the same uniform since Saturday night, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered when he was there, in front of her, alive.

— Didn't you go back to the hotel?

— No. I've been here since Saturday night. I arrived a little after you, actually.

— Charlie...

— I couldn't go back, Fer — she whispered, her thumb stroking his skin — I couldn't leave you here alone.

— But what about Alberto? And Edo, and Luis? Did they go home?

— No, the three of them are at the hotel, waiting for you to wake up to come see you. They’ve been in and out, they all left a little while ago…

Fernando was silent for a few seconds, his eyes fixed on their intertwined hands.

— Why did you stay?

— Because you needed me...

— Charlie — he said, cutting her off — Tell me the truth.

— But — she stammered, her heart pounding in her chest.

— I opened my heart to you and you ran away from me — Fernando snapped, dryly — Now you're here, by my side, holding my hand...

— Do you want me to let go of your hand?

— I want you to be honest with me.

Charlie felt a lump rise in her throat. Why did it have to be so difficult?

— Fer...

He looked up at her seriously.

— If, after everything we've been through together, you can't tell me how you feel, I think you better let go of my hand and leave.

— I wouldn't go even if you wanted me to.

— Yes, you would.

— Of course not — Charlie snapped.

— Why not? You did before…

— Because I love you! — she exclaimed. The volume of her voice made Fernando flinch, before Charlie remembered what the doctor had said about concussions causing visual and auditory sensitivity. Then she continued in a lower voice — I love you, Fer.

Fernando stared at her, seeming to process the words.

— I just didn't tell you before because I — Charlie hesitated for a few seconds — I was scared. I thought what we had was something casual, but I only told myself that because I was so afraid of how deep my feelings for you had gotten, and when you told me you loved me, I panicked. You had finally given the right name to the crushing feeling I feel in my chest every time I'm with you. It is not joy, it is not peace, it is not passion. It's love. It's simply love. And even still, it scares me.

Looking down at their hands, more tears filled her eyes.

— Does love scare you? — he asked.

— My love for you scares me. In fact, all the feelings you can provoke in me scare me. You've already made me feel so much that I didn't allow myself before — she stopped for a few seconds — My life is intertwined with yours in a way that I can't explain. And it's this lack of an explanation for my logical brain that makes it all scary.

— Love doesn't have to be logical — Fernando murmured.

— I found that out sitting in that armchair, waiting for you to wake up. It makes no sense for me to love someone I hated so deeply, but at the same time, it makes the most complete sense when you are the person who understands me, even though I am the mess of a person I am. What I feel for you is love. It has no logic or limit. And I just hope you accept mine the same way I accept yours.

He let go of her hand suddenly, which made Charlie's stomach sink. After some silence, she decided that was her last shot with him.

— I don’t know if you remember but in Montreal, in 2015, I ran out of the motorhome after the debrief and hid between the paddock buildings to cry — she whispered — I was mad at you, so mad. And Lewis just happened to find me there, sobbing. We talked about what happened and he gave me some valuable advice that day.

— What did he say?

— He told me not to let you into my head — she replied, seeing his pursed lips — But today, I realized he didn't say anything about my heart. And you entered mine.

Fernando gave a small smile.

— He's an asshole.

— He said the same about you.

— Oh, he did? Good to know…

The two looked at each other for a few seconds in silence.

— Well… — Charlie said.

— What?

— It’s just as simple as that, I suppose, that I love you, and that I hope you still love me, too — she whispered.

— I never stopped loving you, Charlotte — Fernando replied, placing his hand on her face — Not even for a second. And you don't have to be afraid of anything. I will take care of your heart with all the love it deserves.

With her chest filling with warm sensation, Charlie leaned over the bed rail, placing a soft, tear-tasting kiss on his lips. The relief of having him alive and well mingled with the happiness of loving and being loved despite being far from perfect. She was finally safe.

After a few more delicate kisses and Fernando asking other questions about the race, Charlie took it upon herself to call the doctor who was taking care of him to take a look at him. Then, she called Edo, letting him know that his brother-in-law was conscious and oriented, news that he received with great joy.

— I'll let everyone around here know he's awake — he said — His mother will be so relieved, Lore told me she wasn't sleeping well with worry.

— I can imagine — Charlie replied, watching Fernando as a nurse took his blood pressure.

— Do you want to go back to the hotel? I can come over and sit with Fer so you can rest.

Charlie bit her lip. She was completely exhausted, but she didn't want to leave Fernando behind. It wasn't as if he wasn't getting the best treatment, much less that he was incapacitated in any way, but she took it as an obligation. However, the last thing Charlie wanted was to suffocate Fernando, even more so in this situation.

— I'll talk to him and let you know, okay?

— Yeah, no problem — he said — Give him a hug from me and tell him I'll see him tomorrow morning at the latest.

After hanging up the phone, Charlie approached the bed again. Looking at her, Fernando had a small smile on his lips.

— Edo?

— Yeah. He said he's coming to see you tomorrow morning.

— Is he coming with you when you come back?

She blinked.

— Well, I thought I'd stay here one more night.

— Why?

— So I can take care of you.

The driver laughed.

— Charlie, I'm in a hospital. There's no shortage of people here to take care of me.

— But they're not me.

— True, they aren’t, but — he said, bringing a hand to her face — But it's no use trying to take care of me if you're not taking care of yourself.

— I'm fine — Charlie snapped — I can stay awake a lot longer. In fact, I had many nights like this in university.

— You were 20 years old then, you could get away with it — Fernando said, his thumb stroking her cheek — Now, you need to listen to your body and rest. I’ll be fine, I promise.

His concern made something warm inside her chest. "Love, this is love", Charlie thought to herself, smiling.

— Okay, I'm going to the hotel — she relented — But I'll be back tomorrow morning, very early, okay, my love?

Fernando smiled.

— Perfect, mi amor.

After a few goodbye kisses and a good-natured joke about how handsome he looked with a fuller beard, Charlie finally left his room, making her way to the hospital lobby practically floating. It was as if she were in a romance book, in which the protagonists were finally living their “happily ever after”.

Well, until she looked outside the hospital.

In front of the building, what seemed to be more than a dozen cameras were pointed at the entrance door, along with a good number of journalists and photographers. It was clear that there would be people there, waiting for anyone who could give more information about Fernando. And, considering she was in the team uniform, she was the perfect person for it.

— Miss, do you need help? — a man wearing a white coat and surgical scrubs asked. She explained the situation, and the man took her to an exit leading to the staff parking lot, which was free of reporters.

“An angel”, Charlie thought, as she made her way back to The Signature in an Uber, ducking slightly so reporters wouldn't see her leaving the building. The entire drive there was a big blur, as was the arrival at the suite. After taking a shower and calling in-room dining service to order something to eat, she allowed herself a moment of contemplation, looking up at the ceiling.

Fernando was fine, he was alive. And most of all, he still loved her. He had never stopped loving her, not for a second, not even when she feared her own feelings for him. And being loved by that man was a sublime feeling, better than anything Charlie had ever felt in her life.

There was so much more than just sexual chemistry between the two, but something much stronger and deeper. What they had was something that even the word she was most afraid to use to describe it — love — seemed inadequate. Fernando didn't complete her, because Charlie was sure she was a complete person without him, but he complemented her. He brought out the best in her and that was...

— Fuck, Charlie — she muttered to herself, wiping the tears that had trickled from her eyes. However, unlike the last few days, these were tears of joy.

She was happy.

Finally happy.

The next morning, Charlie was back at the hospital, feeling much better than she had the day before. “He was right”, she thought, as she walked past the reporters in silence, lowering her Brighton cap a bit. After checking in at the reception desk and getting a visitor’s badge, she went up to Fernando's room, wondering if he’d gotten some more sleep, if he was awake, if he’d been able to eat, and if he was in any pain.

Knocking softly on the door of room 249, the answer came in his expression, which looked much more rested. Not only that, he looked happy.

— Good morning, everyone — Charlie said, greeting Edo, Luis and Alberto who had arrived there earlier, before approaching the bed slowly — Good morning, Fer.

— Good morning, nena — he replied, stretching out his hand toward her — Did you get some rest?

— Yes — she said, giving his hand a light squeeze before releasing it. The reaction made the driver raise an eyebrow at her — What?

— Aren’t you forgetting something?

She looked down at herself, trying to imagine what she could have left at the hotel that she hadn't noticed, but Fernando had.

— No, I have everything here.

— What about my kiss? — he asked, giving her the puppy-eyed look that made her give in to his every request, even the most absurd of them.

— Fer — Charlie said through clenched teeth, feeling her cheeks heat up.

— Come on, it's not like they don't know we've been together for over six months — Fernando said, looking at the three men beside him.

— You haven’t exactly been discreet — Alberto said, crossing his arms, with Luis nodding beside him.

— Especially with the hickeys — Edo added, smirking — You've already done quite a bit of damage to his neck, Charlie.

Charlie felt a little embarrassed about that. As much as she wanted to be discreet, it was hard not to want to kiss and bite the skin on Fernando's neck. When she saw it, there was already a purple mark nestled in the space between the muscle and his collarbone. Luckily they were always hidden under the green shirts and racing overalls.

— So where's my kiss?

— It's here — Charlie relented, giving him a delicate peck — How was your night?

— Good. I ate, slept, and talked to the doctor. He updated me on everything that happened to me and recovery times. He said that the average is eight weeks, but I think Edo and I will be able to reduce it to six.

— Fernando, you can't control the speed at which your bones heal — she said seriously.

— But I can and will help them along. Edo and I will talk to Lore tomorrow, when I'm home, to see what supplementation I can take...

— Home? Are you going to be discharged?

— Yes, the doctor said he's releasing me tonight — Fernando replied.

— And are you going to Lugano?

— No, Oviedo. My mother is going to break my other ankle if I don't go home for a bit after this one. Besides, it'll be nice to be around my family for a few weeks, I haven't seen them all together since Barcelona, so...

Charlie smiled, running an affectionate hand through his hair.

— Love is always the best medicine, my grandmother always says — she said, giving him a kiss on the forehead.

— So can I get the jet ready for the five of us, Fer? — Alberto asked.

— Five? — Charlie asked, looking at him and then at Fernando.

— Yes. We’re all going to Oviedo — the driver replied, stroking her hand.

— But, am I going with you?

— Of course, Charlie — he said, before he saw the doubt in her eyes — Well, if you want to.

She pressed her lips together, feeling a little confused. Although she wanted to stay with Fernando and support him through his recovery, Charlie felt like she was going too fast and too far. Being at his house was one thing, but being with his family was something else entirely. It was like taking a step bigger than her leg.

— It's like your grandmother says, love is the best medicine — Fernando said, bringing her hand to his lips and kissing the fingers, eyes fixed on her — And I'm going to need some doses of yours, mi cielo.

“How am I supposed to say no?”, she thought to herself.

— Okay, my love. I'll go with you.

#fa #fernando alonso #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #fernando alonso fic #fernando alonso fanfic #fernando alonso x oc #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 fic #formula one fic #formula one fanfic #formula one x oc #f1 x oc #nordswrites

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penig · 2 years

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I have just finished reading Jane Eyre for the umpty-umpth time since I imprinted on it at 14.

Certain books I have read too often for too big a chunk of my life for me to ever alter my visual image of the locations and characters while reading, and Jane Eyre is one of them. However, this one out of all of them is gradually accumulating an Ideal but Impossible Cast List of actors who have never, and now never can, play certain characters, but should. Chief of these, of course, are Jane and Rochester. Rochester should be played by Jeremy Brett at slightly older than he played Sherlock Holmes, and Jane should be played by Gillian Anderson at 19, who could totally do the “drab little governess till she suddenly flares up” bit, with a few subtle shifts of eyebrow and half a lip. Today, a new one got added: John Hamm as St. John Rivers.

Because this is the first time since I saw the video adaptation of Good Omens that I’ve read the sequence in which St. John tries his damnedest to gaslight, browbeat, coerce, and lure Jane into marrying him in order to go to India with him as a missionary.

If you have seen John Hamm as Archangel Gabriel in Good Omens, and have read my Good Omens fanfic (which contains, I am told by a reader, the nastiest version of Gabriel in the entire fandom; no small feat for a character whom people have written as a rapist and serial killer), you will understand exactly how much I loathe St. John Rivers. He matches Gabriel’s presentation point-by-point, the self-righteous egotist who tramples all before him and thinks that being Great and Good excuses every bit of cruelty he indulges himself in; thinks, even, that because he never stoops to violence he isn’t cruel at all. When I was 14 it bothered me that he gets the last paragraphs of the book; now that I’m 61 it makes me almost physically ill. I want to shake Jane for all the excuses she makes for him. I hope he dies alone and is in Hell for half an hour before he realizes that’s where he wound up. I wish he’d met Rochester once, because even blind Rochester would’ve seen straight through him and stood a chance, if he could keep his temper, of cutting him off at the knees and shocking Jane into losing the scales on her eyes.

My opinion of Rochester has mutated a bit down the years - the implications of the age difference is much more real and meaningful to me now than it was at the time, for instance; probably more meaningful to me than it ever had a chance of being to Brontë, since she died so young herself. And the mad wife in the attic business is - really complicated and impossible to discuss without discussing historical methods of handling mental illness. But Jane made the right choices about him, right down the line. Of course she had to leave him after he’d lied to her and tried to trick her; of course she took him back after that tremendous ego of his finally broke down enough to let him change. Rochester and Jane have compatible faults, which are much more important, in marriage, than virtues, He in fact has many of the same faults as Rivers does, which explains how close Rivers came to winning. But he can love Jane the way she needs to be love, and no one will ever know if Rivers could, because he scorns to.

#Jane Eyre #literature #Charlotte Brontë #the casting game #St. John Rivers #what an asshole

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novankenn · 5 months

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Things Best left ... ALONE (11)

--== Table of Contents ==--

Pyrrha was in thought about the jar and the scant information Mrs Birch was able to offer. So now she had multiple questions to dig up answers to. Why was the jar in a place where it was so out of place? Was it just misplaced? Is the original owner looking for it? So engrossed in her internal monologue, she didn’t see Weiss Schnee approaching her, a sheet of paper in her hand.

“Pyrrha!”

“What? Huh, oh Weiss.” Pyrrha’s voice slid from its normal warmth to a colder tone. “Is there something I can do for you?”

“Yes. I have a proposal…”

“No.” flatly stated

“What? You haven’t heard it yet, how can you say no?”

“Because I have a distinct feeling I know what it is.” Pyrrha crossed her arms across her chest, her emerald green eyes gaining a hard edge to them as she looked down at the much shorter heiress.” So my answer is no. It was No the last time you tried, and it is still No, now.”

“But... But we would be the strongest duo in Beacon! No one could match us academically, tactically and martially. Your strength and skill would be so well complimented by my…”

“Your official partner is Ruby, as per the stipulations of initiation.”

“But she’s…” Weiss started to whine.

“Adapt, and find common ground.” Pyrrha snapped.

“But… we would be…”

“Weiss… stop.” Pyrrha inhaled slowly, attempting to school her facial features, and quell her temper. “Ruby is your partner. Stop trying to make things go your way and adapt. A huntress’ life and career is about adapting to situations… or is this all a… SDC publicity stunt?”

“It is no such thing!” Weiss snapped, her face growing slightly red in either embarrassment or anger. Pyrrha really didn’t care which it was.

“Some advice… make yourself and Ruby a team. Adapt and mentor her. He’s two years younger, she has so much more room to grow… help her do that, and maybe you’ll find you and her are a much better fit for each other than you first thought.” Before Weiss could offer a rebuttal, Pyrrha ended the conversation, “I have things to do, so please excuse me.”

Pyrrha was still rather agitated when she returned to her dorm. Closing the door in a huff, she marched over to her desk and dropped into her chair. Crossing her arms on the top of her desk, she dropped her head on to them and let out a frustrated sigh.

“You are troubled… why?”

“It’s Weiss Schnee… she just won’t take No for an answer. Her partner is Ruby Rose, yet she keeps trying to get me to agree to a partner swap.” Pyrrha again sighed in frustration, “I just wish she would stop, bothering me about it.”

“Do you want… help?”

“No, I’ll just deal with it. Eventually she’ll get the message.”

It was later that night, when Weiss was snuggled down in her bed, covers pulled up to her chin. Her mind had been replaying her recent conversation with Pyrrha, and while she would concede to some of the points made… she would not surrender her idea. They would be the power couple of Beacon… and maybe then she could act on her real feelings. Slowly, Weiss’ eyes closed as sleep took her in to its soft embrace.

Weiss awoke screaming, shocking her partner from her own deep sleep. Ruby rolled off her bed and rushed over to check on her partner.

‘Weiss! Weiss! I have to call the infirmary. Hold on, Weiss, help is coming!” Ruby shouted as she tore her eyes away from the multiple deep, seeping gashes that marred Weiss’ face.

Weiss never heard a word, of what Ruby said. All that was in her mind was a twisted vision, and equally twisted words.

(Image generated by perchance ai text-to-image)

“Just a little reminder… know your place… cunt.” the light musical, and sadistically disturbed voice sang in her ears.

#rwby #pyrrha nikos #jaune arc #pyrrha has no partner #jaune is a fae #horror themed #alternate universe #Beacon has no 4 person teams 1st year teams

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elasmobranch-enthusiast · 10 months

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i want to share something i posted on my private instagram in its entirety. (tumblr people i trust most of you dm me if you want the @)

i’ve been wanting to talk about my relationship with art for a little while now.

as a young child, i was always drawing, coloring, or painting something, like lots of kids. making art was just a fun and relaxing activity for me, something i did pretty frequently and enjoyed.

that changed as i got older. my ocd got worse, i became more critical of myself, and i was noticing how different i was to everyone else. people called me creative a lot as a kid. i took pride in that. but i started to notice that i had been drawing the same things over and over my whole life. other kids my age didn’t do that. how could i be creative when i never created anything new? it didn’t make sense to me, and i felt like a fraud. so i pushed myself to draw other things even though i didn’t really want to. and then i noticed more things i didn’t like. i’d never learned how to hold a pencil correctly. my hands were too shaky, my lines always jagged or wiggly. i couldn’t grade the pressure i was putting on the pencil. compared to my peers, my art looked like it had been made by someone younger. i hated that. to me, different meant it was ugly and bad. so i figured i needed to reteach myself how to draw. i became a connoisseur of those how to draw (blank) books. but every line i made that didn’t perfectly match the image from the books had to be redone. anything less than perfect wasn’t good enough. i’d erase holes into my paper, telling myself i couldn’t do anything right. the thoughts got worse, that terrible things would happen to me if i couldn’t do something perfectly. art was becoming just another one of the seemingly endless sources of anxiety in my life. picking up a paintbrush or looking at a blank sheet of paper was enough to send me into panic. this phase of my life was roughly from ages 6 to 11.

so i quit. no more painting or drawing. i wasn’t good at it so it wasn’t for me. i had to accept that. i found other creative outlets like writing and crochet, which i was already getting into as i became more and more disillusioned with art. this lasted until i was about 16 and my ocd got a lot more manageable.

since then, i’ve gotten tiny flickers, little urges to make art again. filled with fear, i tried drawing and painting again. and i would hate the results, so i’d quit again for another few months. that cycle repeated many times.

but recently, it’s been different. i had the urge to pick up watercolors and just couldn’t resist it. but something was different this time. i hated my work, but i didn’t want to stop. i wanted to try again. so i have been, for a few weeks now. and i’m enjoying it. it only dawned on me recently that i had once labeled watercolors as my least favorite medium to work with years ago. i found them far too difficult to control. and now, that’s what i like about them. that they sort of do their own thing, that they take control and i adapt to them. and i think there’s profound healing in that. i’ve found peace in wetting the colors, creating transparent layers. slowly building them up to more vibrant colors, and swirling my brush in water. it quiets my mind.

so currently, i’m fixated on painting jellyfish. over and over. that’s all i’ve been painting, but i’m okay with that. maybe one day i’ll perfect them. but if not, i’ll be okay.

i still don’t think my art is good. in fact, i’m embarrassed to post it. but i am because i think it’s important to my healing journey. and i may not be proud of how it looks, but i am proud of what it means.

#autism #aac user #ocd #watercolors #jellyfish #ocd recovery #art therapy #medium support needs #art #long post #wall of text #sorry #my post

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alcamcat · 1 year

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Use unique ability

Although of course they can no longer use their powers and magic permanently, they continue to use their unique abilities. Albeit a little more subtle and without attracting attention… Some of them at least.

-I don't own the game or the characters-

James:

The fact that he can learn new things quickly and understands them after reading them once is a great benefit to him in this new situation. Within a few weeks, he manages to acquire a stable and well-founded knowledge of human behavior and general rules and laws. More than satisfied that he no longer has to just read books about warfare and running kingdoms, he continues to use his ability to delve into subjects that really interest him. The mere fact that he has the choice of which topic to deal with creates an inner peace in him. Even if he keeps stumbling over his own thoughts. Humans would be really easy to control. They are so unaware of the powers slumbering around them... As for summoning his weapon, James would use the ability anytime he or his brothers were truly in a threatening situation. Any of them would! No ifs and buts!

Erik:

His ability to enter and change or manipulate the dreams of others is particularly useful for his brothers in their new everyday life. Damien and Sam in particular are plagued by nightmares, but James and Matthew also have their fair share. The fact that Erik is able to give them the restful sleep they would like helps immensely. Even if he doesn't talk about it with his brothers, the others are really grateful that he changes their nightmares and above all that he never speaks out loud in front of the others about the problems they are struggling with in their sleep. Each of them will have the opportunity to return the favor to him. He still uses the purple ethereal tendrils he can summon to open and close doors or drawers, or move items from one point to another. Even if he is meticulous about only doing this when nobody can see him doing it. After all, he has no interest in causing a riot, because tendrils shoot out of nowhere. From time to time he also uses this to annoy his brothers by slapping a book out of James' hand without standing next to him, or even separating Sam and Matthew when they get into a fight over a computer game.

Sam:

Sam's unique abilities are shown in his strength and speed. Not necessarily skills he has to hide, at least not if you ask him. But his brothers, especially James, see things differently than he does. In order to adapt, he has to hold back a bit. And while he doesn't really like it, he at least makes an effort to control himself. Of course, he still uses his speed and strength regularly, but makes sure (sometimes more, sometimes less) that he doesn't get into the focus of curious people. When he's annoyed, he has more trouble suppressing and hiding his true powers. And if he clashes with a human? Then he does not guarantee for his own actions. He certainly won't let anyone get him down in terms of speed and strength. Humans are no match for him. Plus point, he can get energy that way, so why wouldn't he? James and Erik just have to do the damage control.

Matthew:

He doesn't really need to hide the fact that he has an innate ability to create objects, as he (unlike Sam) takes care never to be observed while doing so. He is very aware of the consequences it could have if it is revealed who they really are. Nonetheless, his ability is of great use to him in the human world, especially when it comes to small things that he can just create rather than buy. Of course, he also tries to create somewhat complicated objects from time to time. But no matter how many times he tries to build a mobile phone, for example, it always reminds one of a child's toy. Either it can make music when you press the buttons, or the display just shows an image. In order to develop technology, he probably needs to keep learning, but he will keep trying. Unnoticed by his brothers, of course, because he can do without stupid remarks that associate him with children's toys.

Damien:

He's definitely the one of the brothers most interested in not using his abilities and magic anymore. But he is also the one who succeeds the least. After all, he never learned to control his mind reading and even if he doesn't like it, he can't easily suppress his ability even if he wishes to. Presumably he uses this ability at the beginning when he cannot assign the voices or hears terms he is not familiar with more often than he would like. Although he doesn't like to admit that he can't read himself, his ability helps him to not draw attention to his perceived problem. He also helps his brothers unconsciously, because he has the possibility to see through human behavior by reading minds faster than mere observation can. In case of potential danger, he would use the shadows to get himself and his brothers to safety when fighting is not an option.

#seduce me #seduce me the otome #just thinking #seduce me headcanon #seduce me james #seduce me erik #seduce me sam #seduce me matthew #seduce me damien #headcanon

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vergess · 1 year

Note

Curious question, how many Sherlock Holmes adaptations have you watched? Also, if you watched several , which one is your favorite?

Well, setting aside the Great Mouse Detective because it's unfair to compare other adaptations to something I loved as a child and thus can only view with perfect adoration in spite of any actual truths.

I am a tumblr user of repute, so I've of course seen the BBC's Sherlock. I think that A Study in Pink is the best episode in the show because the editing and cinematography are outstanding and serve the story beautifully. The writing is mediocre but competently sets expectations for the quality of the rest of the show. Then the second episode is so shockingly racist. So overall, it's bad, but influential in fandom whether we want it to be or not. I enjoyed it at the time, but as a more... like. Informed adult? It's bad. Don't bother.

A Study in Emerald. Short story by Neil Gaiman. Barely constitutes an adaptation, but we deserve to be reminded of good writing after that last one. It's available for free on Mr Gaiman's website, here:

Apparently there's a graphic novel version of Emerald, but I've not read it. Unless the graphic novel is just the fake newspaper on the website? Wikipedia was somewhat unclear.

Downey Jr movies: I love them. Absolutely horrible adaptations, but fucking amazing films. More fun than you're expecting. Highly recommended.

Elementary: Probably the best modern adaptation. Captures the serial spirit and commitment to Solving Mysteries Realistically of the original. However, I cannot watch it. The lead actor's performance is basically perfect for 'what would the Holmes character be like today' but I cannot stand it for some reason. I haaaaate watching him, and that makes this one hard for me. I recommend it highly anyway.

I watched two of the Basil Rathbone films to the point of nausea as a kid, but over exposure to the Worst Kinds Of White People in high school discussions of his body of films left a bitter taste for me. Because these films were an adaptation for an audience MUCH closer to the audience of the original stories, there is a period and character authenticity that just cannot be matched by anything else. Honestly, if you only ever watch one adaptation, it should be one of these. I say that in spite of these movies attracting the worst people on earth. There's a reason the 'generic' image of Holmes looks that way, and it's Basil Rathbone.

I've only seen the Peter Cushing movie, not the show. But, he's very much the performance I imagine in my head when reading the stories these days. My favourite live action Holmes actor, and a really top tier Watson. Definitely worth the time. I'm told the show is, um. Not so good on the Watson front.

I didn't like The Private Life of Holmes. I thought it sucked. I have no redeeming statements for it. It's objectively better that the 2010 BBC show, but I have nostalgia for that one's fandom. I just hate this one. It's bad!! Watch anything else. Watch the Great Mouse Detective, it has the same plot but it doesn't suck.

Young Sherlock Holmes is also a bad movie, but it's a bad Pixar Kids Movie so it's still perfectly competent for what it wants to be. If you need something to give a Holmes loving kid under 12 has 'seen them all' give them this. It's forgettable, and thus kids never really see it anymore.

I haven't seen Enola Holmes yet, but I'll probably get around to it. So I guess that's a tentative recommendation there.

The BBC radio drama Adventures of Holmes and its sequel Further Adventures of Holmes is REALLY FUCKING GOOD. If you like podcasts or audio books or stage plays, you have GOT to try these. The first half is a complete adaptation of every Holmes story, and the second half is professional fanfic of identical quality. I've never tried the American version and don't intend to.

I liked the 3 VHS tapes of the Granada tv series that I watched as a little kid, but I honestly couldn't tell you if they're good. I haven't watched any of it since I turned 9. A lot of people like them to the point of thinking Jeremy Brett is THE Holmes actor, so they had to be doing something right.

Sherlock Holmes in the 22nd Century and Case Closed are both like... impossible for me to parse as Holmes adaptations. Wikipedia says they are but like........ okay. I've seen them both and they are their own entities to me lol. Case Closed in particular is bomb as hell, highly recommended. But like... in a retro anime way, not a Holmes way.

Miss Sherlock has been good so far. I haven't watched enough to have a strong opinion beyond, like. Gay shit. As a Known Fagotte, I gotta say. They sure did cast very attractive actresses and leave all the homoeroticism in place. This, reasonably IMO, distracts me from having anything valuable to say.

The Star Trek TNG episodes with Data and Moriarty are obviously personal favourites. If you can suspend your disbelief enough to accept the god like powers of the holodeck, I think it's a really good time.

And the only one I can remember that wasn't on the Wikipedia list of adaptations is Slylock Fox. These are riddle comics for very young kids, like, ages 3-7. They're to help early readers learn new vocabulary and practice critical thinking. They were my very, very first Holmes media.

I. Hated. Those. Goddamn. Comics. I wanted to kill them. Not the characters or the author, but the comics themselves as a concept. I NEVER solved ANY of the fucking riddles, and to this DAY I will NEVER FORGET that latex paint dyes water and oil paint doesn't.

Probably good for kids who get bored in class a lot, but be ready for the rage.

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fandomshatewomen · 2 years

Note

thanks for the explanation i truly appreciate it

i think what's made us have diverging opinions on this matter is the fact that i didn't know paper girls is an adaptation of a comic book. i don't even watch the show. i sent the original ask because i looked at images of tiffany on google and have watched stranger things (erica is one of my favorite characters, the other one being argyle) and agreed with the op instead of your reply.

im also of the opinion that people will always look like other people, there's no getting around that. we have a limited gene pool and there's only so many variations you can make by mixing and matching that incredibly unique faces are really really rare (i'd say steve buscemi has the only unique face in hollywood - at least off the top of my head).

im not upset at people in my hometown mistaking me for my mother since we look really similar (we sound similar too, everyone double checks if it's her or me picking up a phone). im also not upset at people constantly mistaking me for a different girl when i moved to my uni town because we looked very similar. never met the girl before then, we're 100% not related in any way.

so when i see people look like other people, that's all that it is to me. an example of how despite 8 billion people on this planet (im ahead by a few days with this number lol) we're still all the same. but i do appreciate the explanation that it's not the case for everyone and sometimes it goes far deeper than what i perceive it as. so thank you!

you're this anon

so story time. like ok even though I grew up with a very racially diverse family ppl used to insist I had a doppelganger and it used to mess with my head because the girl (although I'm p sure she was half mexican versus my full mexican from both sides) they thought looked like me was just fat and had frizzy hair like me. which like ok?? my lips are bigger my nose is bigger we had different interests. and more importantly I got the feeling when we were in college that people used to tell her the same thing. Like I'm fairly lightskinned.

which is literally a screengrab from my channel https://www.youtube.com/user/AliciaThePhoenix

Like I have a lot of privilege in terms of colorism and I hated being compared to another person constantly throughout middleschool high school and my first few years of college. but the thing is this experience is not unique to me and I can prove it. my mom who's seventy now constantly compares all black men to my 2 black uncles that married into the family despite significant differences in height, weight, features, and hair. I've tried telling both my mom and dad (he does some similar stuff) about anti blackness they obviously have. and like I know they passed it on to me and my sister. but like its frustrating because they're so old now its just an uphill battle.

so like while I don't constantly have to deal with people mistaking me for other ppl as much now I do remember how shitty it feels to constantly be compared to others just because ppl can't be bothered to get to know me for who I am.

one more story before I let this go. when I was in college I actually had a work friend that I started bringing around to my friends gatherings. mind you my friends and I all went to high school and middle school together. I had history with them. but this work friend was also an alicia. instead of calling me alicia #1 (because I was previously the only Alicia they knew) or her blonde alicia they started calling me Mexican Alicia. Mind you this went on for years and it got to the point that I had to cut ties with the majority of them because I was really feeling tokenized and belittled. before I cut ties with them I tried to get them to call me Ali instead but still some of them insisted on calling me Mexican Alicia.

this is very painful for me to talk about but like there's a reason that "faceblindness" and racism go hand in hand. if you live in a white majority country you're trained to think of whites as the norm and everyone else is othered.

tldr: In all these situations it's shitty to assume that constant comparisons with other people is really so innocent. despite my lightskinned privilege I've learned and witnessed that dark skinned Black people have it even worse than I do. and like that just breaks my heart.

mod ali

#colorism #racism #racialized misogyny #white supremacy

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pollyssecretlibrary · 1 year

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“The Duke Gets Even”, by Joanna Shupe

The Fifth Avenue Rebels #4

I read this book from NetGalley & Valentine PR in exchange for a fair and honest review

RELEASE DATE - Jan24, 2023

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

One midnight an English duke was swimming at sea in Newport, Rhode Island, when he met the most beautiful red haired woman on earth. She was swimming on her own as naked as he was and the attraction between them is electric. She’s the kind of woman who owns herself, her body and her sexuality, no shame, just natural human desire. They’re perfect strangers when they share a few kisses and promise to meet the next night for a non compromise tryst. But the next day they meet with their masks on and everything goes wrong. He’s Andrew Talbot, the impoverished duke of Lockwood who is in America to find a wealthy heiress he can marry to save his lands and the people who live there. Eleanor “Nellie” Young could be that heiress except for two facts: one, she has a reputation, and two, she refuses to marry at all for she wants to live her life and her sexuality freely and independent from any man. None of them ever expected to fall in love with each other, but they do.

Both of them develop feelings for each other and care for each other yet they are so stubborn, and I don’t mean this as a downsize to the novel at all, they are so set on their own ideas of what the other wants for their life despite the fact that both their inner selves recognizes they are perfect together, a match made in heaven that burns with the flames of hell. Their banter, their sexual desires and preferences… they only add up to the image of them being made for each other, fated mates. The aspect of their relationship that makes them perfect for each other is quite easy to see; he can only be his true self with her, she can only be her true self with him, they love each other’s true selves; they don’t like the masks they wear when in company of others.

I loved Nellie, she’s wild, independent, unconventional, free, compassionate and funny. And Andrew’s personality complements hers, they match like puzzle pieces, what she lacks he has, what she has he lacks and yet they have so many things in common, the most important of which is their views on life. Andrew likes Nellie not only as a lover but also as a woman, her personality is refreshing, they feel free together. The couple spends most of the novel pretending to not like each other while playing cat-and-mouse at the same time, they interchange the roles of cat and mouse, especially when they become more intimate. Both of them are so alive, so raw and so passionate towards each other. This book is everything!

Joanna Shupe for me is one of the classics. She’s been there for ages and, like many of the writers of her generation she has modernized her discourse, her books take on more actual subject matters like women’s right to independence both physical and economical and women’s sexual education, which is debated in this book specifically. Nellie is knowledgeable of her own body and how it works, she knows what she wants and needs in bed and she’s educating other women who, perhaps, have never taken such matters into their conversations. These subjects come more naturally to newest authors, authors who were born into feminism and who want to give the historical subgenre a new wave, a fresh one while raising awareness of matters that are being put on the table in the last few years. Many writers of Joanna Shupe’s generation have tried to include these themes in their books (I won’t give names) and failed, making their books’ plots feel artificial or forced. Joanna Shupe isn’t one of them, she might have her issues with third act conflicts (not in this book though) but including modern themes in her plots isn’t an issue for her, she has adapted to the new currents like to a second skin.

#Review #Book review #Historical Romance #Joanna Shupe #Romance #Romance community #Romancelandia #Romance reades #Romance tumblr #Booklr

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carriongoat64 · 3 months

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Heart's Sennheiser HD6XXs review, as compared to Phillips SHP9500s and a friend's Sennheiser HD800s

TL;DR You won't be impressed unless you've never heard expensive (>$100) headphones before. Solid everything, all around great, never above That Line.

The soundstage is of particular note because the SHPs are Fucking Lying. Here is an image for illustration:

The Sennheiser HD6XXs are completely inoffensive, honestly boringly precise and flat. They accentuate nothing and don't separate well enough to surprise you. The frequency response graph is as flat as your worst hospital nightmares, besides the obvious open-back standard bass dip and high frequency scramble audible exclusively to newborns and dogs. Coming from the SHPs, this is a godsend and was why we chose this over a closed back headphone or anything else for $200. We wanted something that was going to have precise soundstage for gaming, good in the mids for particularly guitar-centric music, and with no "catches" so we would not have to EQ them. EasyEffects and the proliferation of Pipewire support has made applying EQ profiles a breeze in Linux but the simple need to open a program to prevent the SHP's multiple treble peaks from hurting us every time our friend starts farting into her microphone is troublesome when we never remember to do it. And although a bit of a weird peeve, having another window clogging our alt+tab list is frankly unacceptable to us since we've been pushed to use a KDE environment over our preferred Sway for death-by-1000-papercuts types of reasons. In comparison to the HD800s, this frequency response is lacking the surprising bass punch those headphones offer but is otherwise similarly flat and Good.

The comfort is the best we've tried so far and that's including the HD800s. The pads are soft, not scratchy on our cheeks, don't catch our hair, and the headband's split pad holds up the weight very well. They're real light, and cup our ears nicely. Actually the weight is distributed across the whole headphone really well. The HD800s tended to rest heavy on the top of our head, the SHPs tended to rest Nowhere and just slide around, often falling off our head when we autistically bounce around and emote too hard while alone in our room. For some reason the SHP's cups were nearly circular, which meant they couldn't avoid putting most of their weight on the tops of our ears often causing them to be folded painfully often. I think i could complain about the SHP's comfort at similar length to this review in it's own post, they were BAD. The HD6XXs are so good all around that I can't come up with more to say, we don't feel them on our head much more than a gentle hug and we've worn them for hours straight with no fatigue.

The HD800s have a very wide soundstage, and clear imaging throughout. As far as I'm aware, they're perfectly ideal. On the other hand, the soundstage on the SHPs is about as wide as the HD800s, but their imaging is pushed out to the furthest extents making them Feel wide without being accurate. Gaming with these headphones over the years has been better than earbuds, closed back headphones (particularly Audio Technica M30x's), and speakers, but still limiting. The HD6XXs were very confusing to play CS2 with at first because nothing sounded as far away as before, but as we played through more matches we realized we could distinguish distance much easier. We could identify where in a map someone was, not just what direction they were in. It became possible (but still not easy) to catch differences in height too. TF2 was the real eye opener, because normally we'd keep the volume in that game off or very near 0. It's mixed extremely loudly which poked at that SHP treble peak, and audio felt unimportant because we couldn't use it to catch positions like you normally need to for Counter Strike. We're also just much better at it so we can compensate for the loss of a sense with adaptation. Now we don't have to compensate, we can simply Be Better. You know you can tell where a nest is from mechanical sounds emanated by the engineer's buildings? You don't need to die to the sentry to know it's there. That was a revelation today, after 1,500 in-game hours.

In terms of transient response, or clarity, the SHPs were sibilant and muddy, no in between, on voices of all kinds. From Youtube video essayists to singers to actors in movies and shows, none of it came through particularly well. We have a pretty bad problem with audio processing, and the SHPs exacerbated this harshly. This issue stretched into poor separation, where instruments would melt and blend together into mush. The HD6XXs by comparison are extremely clear, separate very well, and are never sibilant. To be clear, they avoid being boomy by having poor bass response, but that's why they're $200. The $1300 headphones, the HD800s, do Everything well and separate flawlessly and bring out new instruments in music you never thought you would find. That's what I meant at the start of this review, you can't be blown away by the HD6XXs if you know better. We never owned better, but we listened to better all the time up until recently and always thought "Yeahhh like, my headphones are trash, but they're my trash. If I want to really *hear* a track I like we'll just go to Jane's house" but Jane's house and HD800s are now halfway across the country! Not only that, we work the graveyard shift. On our days off we see the sun for maybe two or three hours, we cant use our speakers and subwoofer this late. So an upgrade was desperately in order. Jane actually bought us the SHP9500s when we were both like 16, so they're not going in the trash for sentimental reasons, but we're definitely not going to use them unless strictly necessary.

The HD6XXs were the right choice for us. A perfect mid range, a perfect "I'm never going to willingly pay over 200 dollars for an accessory" headphone, and Truthful. Accurate, solid, correct. What we needed, nothing more, nothing less, with build quality that makes us comfortable it'll last as long as we expect at this price. Overall, pretty good :3

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cricutdesign0cut · 2 years

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What Are The Cricut Pens Used For [And Their Different Types]

Cricut machines use pens to perform various tasks like illustrations, coloring pages, drawing and writing text, doodles, illustration, and more. Cricut also has a pen for marking fabrics and cutting if you have a Cricut Maker machine.

In this blog, we will discuss in detail what are the Cricut Pens used for, various types of pens, and how to load and download pens in your Cricut machine for different Cricut machines.

Which Cricut Machines Use the Cricut Pen?

The good news is that all the latest machines nowadays use pens, including Cricut Maker, Explore series machine, and Cricut Joy. The Cricut Explore and Cricut Maker have interchangeable pens, and you can use all the pens in both machines. At the same time, Cricut has its segment of smaller pens, which you cannot use the pens in other machines and vice versa.

What Different Types of Pens Work With Cricut?

Cricut makes a vast collection of markers and pens to use with the Cricut machine. Cricut has elegantly designed the barrels and end caps of the pens, which helps you differentiate between different pens on your Cricut pen’s rack. Here is the list of different types of pens that comes with Cricut machines:

Fine Point Pens

Extra Fine Point Pens

Pen/Markers

Gel Pens

Glitter Gel Pens

Calligraphy Pens

Fabric Marker

Infusible Ink Pens

Infusible Ink Markers

Can You Use Non-Cricut Pens in Cricut?

Yes, there are many Non Cricut pens that you can use in your Cricut machines, like Cricut Maker and Explore machines, with the help of specialized adapters.

How Do You Load/Unload The Pen Into A Cricut Machine

Following is the procedure to load the pen into your Cricut machine.

Cricut Explore and Marker: Insert your uncapped pen in the auxiliary Clamp A, hold the bottom of the tool holder as you insert it, and then push down on the pen until it clicks. Ensure that your pen is perfectly fitted into the rack.

Cricut Joy: Like the other Cricut machines, there isn’t a separate clamp on the Cricut Joy for the pen. You need to set the pen in and close the clamp when you’re good to write. Unlike the other Cricut machines, you do not need to press the pen down.

How Do You Draw Images With The Cricut Pen?

There are a lot of images that you will find in the Design Space library as writing images. You can search for drawable images by filtering for the “draw only” images that can be designed using the pen. After searching for the drawable images, you will see three search results for hedgehogs drawn with the pen.

Go to the draw in the Layers Panel on the left-hand side and the line type selection dropdown at the Top of the Edit Toolbar.

Now, click on the colored square box next to the dropdown. Now select the pen you’re using. Then you will see the letter matches the pen end cap labels.

Conclusion

In this blog, we have discussed what are the Cricut pens used for, and we have tried to answer all the possible queries related to Cricut pens. Below is our frequently asked questions section.

Frequently Asked Questions

On what materials can Cricut pens write?

Cricut markers and pens can write on any material a regular pen can write on, like cardboard, textured cardstock, paper, etc. Before using a pen or marker on any surface, always check the test sample, so the ink does not spill off.

Do I have to use Cricut pens?

A variety of pens are available with Cricut, like thin, thick, calligraphy, etc. Cricut pens come in many colors, but you don’t necessarily need them for every project you make. In some projects, the pen doesn’t even come in use.

How long does a Cricut pen last?

Infusible pens/ markers last for a minimum of four full 8.5 in x 11 in drawing and writing pages.

Are Cricut pens permanent on vinyl?

Anything you write on the Smart label vinyl will never fade over time, and the ink stays permanent when dried.

How do I get my Cricut to write instead of cutting?

You must insert the text you want to write to get your Cricut machine to write instead of cutting. Now select the text you want to write and choose the pen operation instead of cut. If you’re using the design space app, select the text, choose the edit option, and then scroll to the right, where you get to line type and select draw.

Visit: cricut.com/setup cricut setup explore air 2 cricut setup

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cricut explore setup

Source: https://set-cricutair2.com/what-are-the-cricut-pens-used-for/

#Cricut Pens #cricut.com/setup #cricut explore air 2

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merakiui · 3 years

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I've been thinking about this for 2 nights now and I cant get it out of my head, but imagine when scramouche was still wandering in inazuma he encountered someone, in a field of flowers (she a botanist) and that someone taught him many things. Just like guizhong and morax. But life is fragile, and that someone is now long gone. Present time, he found someone who looks exactly like that someone, her reincarnation perhaps? Who knows? But one things for sure he wont let her get away again

This is rlly cliche and dumb 😭

YOU HAD ME AT BOTANIST, ANON!!!!

This concept is so good… so full of angst. 🥺 Botanist!darling showing him what life is like through a mortal perspective and he ends up learning a lot about what it means to be human. Botanist!darling teaching him about flowers and the symbolism behind each of them. Botanist!darling giving him a new flower each day, claiming that this one matches his eyes or that this one will look lovely in his hair. Botanist!darling getting hurt and telling Kunikuzushi, who looks on with confusion upon seeing their pained expression and the blood that trickles down their leg, that it’s just a cut. It’ll heal. Botanist!darling who works hard on their research and tries to persevere, even when they’re struggling and have encountered a road block.

Botanist!darling who makes him promise to always visit them if he ever leaves Inazuma because he’ll always be welcome in their house. No matter what. Botanist!darling who doesn’t pry into his past or where he might’ve come from. Botanist!darling who cooks meals for him and pressures him into trying it because they promise it’ll be good. Botanist!darling who rushes towards the shoreline and the hungry waves the minute they can see it over the hills, leaving a startled Kunikuzushi to follow after them. Botanist!darling reading all sorts of books to him—their favorite being plant textbooks—drawing cute doodles for him, and making flower crowns and chains for him. And for the first time in forever he feels accepted—he feels loved.

Botanist!darling who, in their final moments, smiles up at him and tucks a dendrobium behind his ear. A flower that blooms especially well in blood-stained soils. And Kunikuzushi, who holds them in his arms, finally feels his heart tear in two because mortality is fragile and he’ll never see the life in their eyes again. Because he’s come to realize that he loved them in the same way they loved him. Because loving a mortal is difficult and it hurts. He’s pricked himself dozens of times on the thorns and he’s willing to do it a dozen times more because they mean the world to him. And they’re no longer in it.

In the present, Kunikuzushi has changed a considerable amount. With unbridled power, strength, and status he now goes by the alias Scaramouche and is someone you wouldn’t want to cross, lest you find yourself clinging to life afterwards (that is, if you’re lucky enough to do so). And yet you do. You have the gall to approach him with a flimsy flower from your grandfather’s flower shop in your hand. And, to rub salt into the wound, you thank him. Because if it weren’t for the intimidating presence of the Fatui, the bandits who normally lurk near your village are nowhere in sight. He’s not sure why he takes the flower and, rather than crushing it, holds it as though it’s the most delicate thing in the universe. You remind him of someone long gone and though his brain knows exactly who, he refuses to bring the hazy image of their face into his thoughts.

He thinks about you even after he’s left your village and he continues to do so as the days pass. The flower wilts from the humidity and the petals shrivel up and fall off. Maybe he’s just mistaking you for someone you’re not. Maybe he’s just clinging to memories of the past, wishing with all of his heart to feel that acceptance and love again.

Flowers aren’t meant to be snuffed like this. Without a healthy environment, they’ll wither into nothingness. It’s wrong to confine a rose without thorns because the more he keeps it under lock and key the harsher its living conditions become. In an effort to adapt, the withering rose grows thorns and eventually it forces itself to bloom anew.

Only it has no love to give. Not to him, at least.

#chit chat #meraki faves #ANON THIS IDEA IS WONDERFUL #I LOVE IT SM T_T #kuni who actually experiences real healthy love #and then present day scara whose love is twisted and unhealthy #aaaa!!!!#nothing but angst for mouchey #there will be no happy ending for him and his darling </3 #yandere #yandere scaramouche

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aliensunflower-fics · 4 years

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The Interview

[ Did I seriously take time away from writing requests and part twos of things JUST to write a fic where Marinette Flambé‘s Gabriel until he’s nothing but a dirty little lump of coal? Yes. Yes I did. Enjoy! ]

Gabriel Agreste would call himself a practical man. He had never been one for frivolous things. And he believed this was a good thing. His straight and to the point nature meant no gift would go unused, no conversation would drag on, his time would never be wasted. And his designs reflected this practical and sharp point of view. Or so he believed.

Gabriel Agreste would also call himself a realist. He knew full well he was the villain, and he knew full well the damage he had done and was doing. But it did not bother him, he was selfish and sentimental at least concerning his wife. And he wanted it all. The wife, the business, the perfect son, the house. All of it.

And that was why Gabriel Agreste wanted Marinette Dupain-Cheng. She was brilliant, creative, determined, and quick on her feet. Each time he'd been near her he could feel the power she radiated her flurry of untapped potential and raw emotion swirling like a tumultuous ocean. Yes, Gabriel needed Marinette to become his most awe-inspiring destructive, and terrifying Akuma, the one who would finally level Paris and rip the Miraculous off of those pesky heroes once and for all! And who knows, if she succeeded perhaps Gabriel would give her the privilege of being his apprentice in his new perfect world. Her designs had been pretty good and he was nothing if not practical.

There was of course one, tinsy tiny problem however with Marinette Dupain-Cheng. And that was to put it simply that she was perhaps TOO brilliant, creative, determined, and quick on her feet. Every time he thought he finally had her something would go wrong! First, it was that useless excuse for a ‘teacher’ getting in the way, then Mayura failed him! Then Marinette had seemingly caught on and adapted! Bullied? Nope, she thought positive thoughts and spent time with friends. Property destroyed? She’d fix it and make it nicer than before! Lied about? She'd clear her name by the end of the day! Stolen from? She’d always find a fix! Each and every attempt was simply a hurdle the girl overcame!

Even Lila and Adrien had failed him! The sausage headed brat had been trying to crack Marinette near religiously but she had yet to produce real results, if she framed the girl some proof would appear to clear her, if she bullied the girl Marinette would simply walk away to calm down, physical assault had not even been enough to break her. And Adrien… Well, he had no idea that his father was trying to manipulate him so his failures were at least forgivable but even then nothing he did worked. He’d tried several times to produce a jealousy akuma out of Marinette pairing his own son off with Kagami and occasionally even letting the Italian leech hang off his son but Marinette never budged, it wasn’t that she wasn’t jealous or even angry it was just that she cared too much for other people, with Kagami the baker girl had backed off and even aided out in their budding relationship her feelings of kindness and friendship out shadowing her jealousy. And with Lila? Well, Marinette was more concerned with Adrien’s emotional and physical well-being, and after seeing what the liar’s fake nails had done to his son's arms Gabriel could understand why. As a last resort, Gabriel had tried forbidding Adrien from ever seeing the girl again hoping that would do it, but not even 5 minutes later he had undone the command when Adrien threatened to quit modeling and blast his father on social media… Needless to say, Gabriel wasn’t sure where his son had gotten the backbone for such a move but he felt like blaming Marinette for that as well.

Yes. Gabriel Agreste had tried everything to akumatize Marinette Dupain-Cheng and nothing had worked. Now at 17, the girl was still going strong showing no cracks in her armor. Well… He had tried ALMOST everything. There was one thing, one last little thing he had yet to try… And that was ruining the young girl's dream. Now Gabriel did not truly wish to squash such talent, but of course, he didn’t really NEED to. Yes, it was perfect. He would invite the youngest Dupain-Cheng into his home for an interview with a prospective internship on the line. He would warm her up by poking and prodding at her design portfolio, then he would accuse her of stealing the designs from Lila Rossi, and finally, he would claim to be blacklisting her entirely from the very world of fashion! No doubt THAT the very destruction of her dreams would finally produce the Akuma he needed to secure victory. If she succeeded he would favor her in his new perfect world as a reward, and if she failed… Well then he could claim he had ‘seen the truth’ while she was akumatized and undo the damage, there was no sense in actually ruining the girls promising career after all.

With his plan set Gabriel ordered Nathalie to make the arrangements. Come Saturday afternoon Marinette Dupain-Cheng would finally be akumatized.

However, Gabriel was hit with his first surprise, or perhaps his first ‘warning’ when Nathalie entered his office to inform him that Saturday was NOT on the table. In a shocking and rare turn, Marinette had somehow negotiated Nathalie to schedule the interview for Friday instead. Forcing the assistant to re-organize Gabriel’s entire schedule. When Gabriel had asked why this had happened Nathalie had seemed unlike herself, flustered and unsure, apparently Marinette had been very firm about having very important Saturday plans she would not even consider changing and had stated simply and sharply that her only free time would be Friday this week or Gabriel would need to wait another two weeks for her next availability. Hearing that was a shock, Gabriel had NEVER once needed to reschedule himself for others! No! They rescheduled for HIM. But fine, perhaps the sentimental girl had some idiotic family get together she felt she could not say no to it didn’t really matter in fact Friday meant he’d get his Akuma an entire day earlier. Fine then, Friday it was.

The second surprise had come Friday itself. When Miss Marinette Dupain-Cheng arrived perfectly on time. Gabriel was the one caught with his pants down as he had expected the girl to be late with what Adrien had told him of the girl's tardiness record. He and Nathalie were left scrambling to get the office in order while Marinette sat in the hall. Gabriel would review the security footage later and note that the young designer did not gawk or stare at his opulent manor but rather eyed everything critically and with an air of absolute boredom as if she had a million other things she would rather be doing. Had Gabriel seen this expression on the young woman's face beforehand he might have noted it as his second warning that things were not going to go as he expected them to.

Finally, the office looked impeccable and Nathalie invited the young woman in. Gabriel stood behind his desk, his face an emotionless mask but his mind reaching out using the magic granted to him by Nooroo to feel for the young woman's emotions so he could better guide this in the way he desired. However when the young woman entered he was not overcome by the tsunami of nerves and emotions he expected rather it was like an ice front had hit his office. Gabriel was shocked, he could not for the life of him read the girl she was a perfect wall of flawless gleaming ice with no cracks for him to exploit, even her eyes which he had seen in photos and through his Akuma's vision were not what he expected. In every picture, Adrien had tried to show him the young woman's eyes were warm and sweet but now those bluebell orbs had frosted over regarding him with a sharp and pointed stare as if she could read his thoughts. As the two exchanged pleasantries and shook hands Gabriel waited for her to situate herself before he did the same taking a second to share a brief glance with Nathalie who seemed just as confused and put off by the young woman's behavior as he was.

Feeling nervous Gabriel decided to open with some small talk hoping to find a crack that would allow him to feel the young woman's emotions so he politely asked a question about how she'd been. She responded curtly and politely that she was fine but busy, he asked about her parents and their business, she cooly responded that they were opening a second location, finally, he complimented her outfit asking if she designed it herself. He expected to feel SOMETHING from the girl exhilaration at being complimented by someone she admired, nervous about him pointing it out, anything! Instead, the wall of ice remained cool and shimmering as ever as she told him that she had indeed designed the outfit herself and that she was pleased it met his standards. And it did, she wore silky black palazzo pants that flowed gently at the bottom but was clearly tailored to her exact centimeter around her hips, her top had some clear Asian inspirations with a modern twist, it was flawlessly fitted but seemed comfortable and easy to move in. It was white with pink and gold hand painted sakura flowers and some embroidery detailing that were certainly done by hand, to match she had pink lips and pristine white heels, her hair was down but perfectly in place, she was the very image of a professional confidant woman all at the young age of 17.

They chatted a while longer with Gabriel asking her about her design process and if she’d painted on the details of her shirt but still there was no crack in the ice keeping her emotions from Gabriel’s prying mind. The only emotion he could read from the girl was in her body language and it was clear she was losing her patience as Gabriel avoided the reason she was here. Clearing his throat awkwardly and sparing another quick glance at Nathalie who looked just as lost as himself. He finally settled in his chair and they began.

It was a rather standard interview at first, as Gabriel did not want to play his cards too quickly and was hoping that if he was patient the ice guarding the woman's emotions would thaw. He asked to see her sketches while they spoke and she easily handed over a professional-looking sketchbook, as he flipped through it he would occasionally pause to ask questions about her design process or inspiration, they were lovely sketches and truthfully Gabriel was hard-pressed to find anything wrong with them, but for the sake of his plan, he acted unimpressed and even critical of her designs. If it bothered her, she made no show of it much to Gabriel’s annoyance. He began to press harder, asking her if she could truly handle an internship under someone of his caliber, then he asked what her grades were, how he could trust her around his son as he’d heard some unsavory rumors about her character from a trustworthy employee. If anything he said bothered her, she never let it show her face a cool mask of professional disinterest. Gabriel tried not to grind his teeth, this was NOT going as he planned, as he prepared to accuse her of stealing Lila’s designs the young designer held up her hand to silence him.

“Monsieur Agreste, you have been asking a lot of questions. May I ask one of my own?”

Her voice was calm but Gabriel could hear the tiniest bit of ice in her tone. Perhaps his prodding was working after all. Either way, he nodded for her to continue, she straightened just the littlest bit before settling Gabriel with an icy look.

“I would like to know why you believe YOU are qualified to be my mentor.”

Gabriel blinked once. Then twice. He was quite sure his mouth was open in shock. He glanced again at Nathalie; his assistant seemed to be mirroring his own feelings and expressions. Finally, he swallowed and his mouth felt dry.

“Pardon me?” The girl in front of him blinked at him as if he were a rather idiotic child.

“I asked: WHY do you think you're qualified to mentor me. Monsieur Agreste.” Her voice was pure ice now and he suppressed a shiver.

He sat up straighter leveling the girl with an icy look of his own trying not to let his shock show.

“And what makes you think it is acceptable to ask me such a question Miss Dupain-Cheng?”

“Well… This is an interview is it not? Did you think I would simply agree to work for you without checking if you are up to my standards?”

Gabriel suppressed a strangled sound of insult as the red hot feeling of anger rose within him as he absorbed the young woman's words. But even still he could not suppress all of it.

“I beg your pardon!” She gave him a critical look but altogether a bored one.

“I do not mean to offend, Monsieur Agreste. But you are not the first to offer me an internship, currently, I have about 5 different offers on my table, the most notable being with the Style Queen herself and La Mode’s head designer Edna. I want to make an… Educated decision. And frankly, the only reason I am here today is as a favor to your son Adrien, who asked me to give you a chance. So again I will ask, what makes YOU Gabriel Agreste more qualified to mentor me, than Audrey Bourgeois or Edna Mode?”

Gabriel was left feeling very much like he had been caught with his pants down. Marinette Dupain-Cheng already had other offers? And with the top jewels of the fashion world's crown?! How? When!? Surely if Miss Dupain-Cheng had made any significant leaps in the world of fashion he and Nathalie would know about it… Right? I mean, true he had taken a step back from the world in his pursuit of the Miraculous and perhaps he had not been as involved in his own business lately. But he had both Lila and Nathalie on the outside yet they had said nothing about the young girl and her fashion career. Frantically searching for something to say to get the interview back on track and heading the way he wanted Gabriel’s eyes landed on the colorful designer bag Marinette had with her. He had noticed it seemed tailor-made to go with her outfit now taking a closer look at it he noticed the subtle detail of ‘MDC’ in golden lettering. No… No, he could not have missed it. Nathalie could not have missed it! MDC was known as Jagged Stone’s and Clara Nightingale's personal designer the mysterious presence had been a thorn in Gabriel’s side snatching his more famous clientele. But now it was clear. MDC was Marinette Dupain-Cheng. The girl he’d been planning to threaten with a fashion world blacklist and accusations of falsifying her designs was his up and coming competitor. Gabriel swallowed thickly trying to think of how he could spin this situation in his favor now. Nathalie who was unaware that MDC was sitting in front of him could offer no help.

“Well, Miss Dupain-Cheng as I'm sure you are aware, I was once very much in the same situation as yourself, I built my own company from the ground up after I was done training with my own mentor. I could show you how a successful business is built up and run. And I could help you polish your designs.”

The girl nodded thoughtfully and pulled out a small notebook and pen scribbling down something he could not see. Gabriel ignored Nathalie’s looks of confusion and his own growing anger. This was not how he wanted things to go but knowing what he now knew he needed to play his cards carefully, perhaps he could get the girl to intern under him then wear her down until she became possible to akumatize? Yes, that might work! Marinette cleared her throat and Gabriel focused on her again.

“So you could give me an excellent perspective on building my own business and running it… I assume this means you have a plan to get your own business back from the brink of failure then?”

Gabriel choked. His eyes near bulging out of his head as his mind fought to comprehend what had just been said. Marinette for her part simply arched a well-maintained eyebrow in response.

“I do apologize if that was direct. It's just… Well looking at your sales numbers in recent seasons shows a continuing decline in sales, not to mention the number of celebrities seen wearing Gabriel originals has dropped significantly. I will not be interning on a sinking ship Monsieur Agreste surely you understand?”

A quick glance to Nathalie gave him a nod of confirmation that the young woman's words were true. He hadn’t even noticed…

“Of course I have a plan to increase sales. I have been taking a… Creative break. So to speak in order to properly mourn my wife and come up with fresh new ideas.”

It was a bald-faced lie that had crawled its way out of his throat and through his teeth. But it seemed to satisfy the young designer who scribbled a few more notes down before again returning her icy gaze to his face.

“I assume this plan also involves cleaning up the rampant abuse your company is known for then?”

“EXCUSE ME?!” It was Nathalie that time, her face pale and her eyes wide though Gabriel very much agreed with the sentiment.

“Oh? Your secretary was unaware? Hm.” The designer jotted something down continuing to speak as she wrote. “It’s well known in the world of fashion, you have mass turn over in your employee’s they complain that you don't take accusations of sexual assault seriously, that your harsh and overly demanding on your employee’s, that you foster an environment in which abusers and bullies can easily get their way. And that's not even touching on the rumors surrounding the pedophilia, sex scandals, and your abusive behavior toward your own son.”

At those words, Gabriel could take no more his chair let out a screech as he leaped up and slammed his hand down on his desk the loud bang ringing out through the room. To her credit, Marinette did not jump or flinch at the sudden noise. Nathalie however, did.

“That is quite enough Miss Dupain-Cheng! I will not have you coming into my home leveling such blatant and false accusations about my business and personal life!”

The young designer's eyes became impossibly icier and she stood calmly flipping her little notepad closed as she leveled Gabriel with a glare that sent ice into his spine and made him swallow. He swore the room temperature somehow went below zero yet he felt the need to remove his jacket, his body feeling impossibly hot and sweaty.

“In that case. I think I've seen everything I need to make my decision. Do not contact me again Monsieur Agreste I have no interest in maintaining any business relations with a man of your… Type.”

Her words were pure venom yet still he felt no anger coming from her, and now she was trying to leave all at once Gabriel found reality slapping him in the face. His Akuma, his glorious Akuma the one that would lead to his victory he NEEDED it. Nathalie as if reading his mind stepped in front of the door, blocking the young woman's path, Gabriel took a calming breath and fixed his tie. He needed to refocus on the task at hand, he had let the girl get to him but no more he would get the upper hand he WOULD get his Akuma.

“I am afraid we are not done here yet Miss Dupain-Cheng. You see we still have yet to discuss the REAL reason I called you here today.” He didn’t miss a beat, didn't give the girl time to interject. “You see one of my models. A Miss Lila Rossi, claims that you have stolen her designs from her. And having looked at your sketchbook I can now confirm her suspicions. I do wonder what your other potential mentors would think of you being a thief.”

It was a risky lie. Well… Not completely. Lila Rossi had tried to claim Marinette’s work as her own a few times before. Obviously Gabriel never believed the girl, but right now the Italians lie’s were ones he was willing to overlook if it got him what he wanted. And he was sure it was, as finally, the snappy icy Miss Dupain-Cheng was frozen, her expression hidden by her hair but her stiff body was trembling ever so slightly. Finally, Gabriel was back in control.

The girl's body trembled more and more and Gabriel briefly wondered if she was crying or shaking with rage but then he heard it... She was making an odd sound that was growing louder until Gabriel realized what it was… Marinette was laughing. It wasn’t a normal sort of laugh, rather it was a hollow dark sound the type of laugh that belonged to villains in cartoons the type of laugh that sent dread into a person's body, and all at once, the victorious smirk on Nathalie and Gabriel’s faces dropped as Marinette laughed louder and harder. When she finished she wiped tears from her eyes before she settled her icy glare back onto Gabriel a sinister smirk playing on her lips.

“Can I get that in writing Monsieur Agreste?” If she sounded venomous before she sounded downright deadly now. But Gabriel held himself tall and firm.

“This is not a joke Miss Dupain-Cheng. I will not tolerate you stealing from my company.”

“Oh, I am being serious Monsieur Agreste. Do you think this is the first time Rossi has tried to play this game with me?” She scoffed. “Please. I have grown used to her childish ways. Last time I sent my lawyer with a cease and desist order to her house. But if you believe your little ‘muse’ so much then it seems I will need to hit her a little harder to make my message crystal clear. I don’t have much tolerance for liars, Monsieur Agreste least of all little gold-digging ones.”

“M-My muse?” Gabriel suddenly felt a part of his stomach drop. Something about what was just said was clearly very wrong.

“Yes. Your ‘muse’ that's what Lila has been calling herself since she began working for you two years ago. Where do you think the rumors of pedophilia came from Monsieur Agreste?” He choked, but she only hummed thoughtfully. “Perhaps you should be more careful who you hire. Especially considering how she sexually assaults your son. But you already knew about THAT and didn’t fire her. So perhaps she really IS your ‘muse’ then.”

Gabriel could hear the unspoken threat in her words daring him to push the issue and face her wrath and knew he was now playing a very dangerous game. He had known that Lila enjoyed hanging off his son and he had told her off about the wounds she left with her nails and that had stopped, but even after that Adrien had tried to speak with him a few times about Lila but he’d ignored it she was too useful as an ally, but now she may have ended up being his Trojan horse. And if the gleam in Marinette’s eyes and the dangerous smile on her lips was anything to go by the young designer knew it. Nathalie was looking paler the longer this went on. Gabriel knew he needed to save himself now, Akuma be damned he’d be useless to his wife if he lost everything before managing to bring her back.

He cleared his throat. “Now… Perhaps I have been a bit... Hasty? In my accusation of you Miss Dupain-Cheng. I was unaware of Miss Rossi’s dubious nature and words. Or her actions toward my son, perhaps you would consid-”

“How DARE you!” All at once, he was hit with the raw force of Marinette’s emotions, her hot boiling anger overcoming him and knocking out his breath. But just as swift as it came the wall of ice consumed them sealing it away once more. “You have a lot of nerve pretending you knew nothing, Monsieur Agreste. When I know for a fact your son and several of your employees have come to you begging and pleading to be listened to. So either you are lying to my face or you really are just that much of a pathetic excuse for a ‘father’.”

He sputtered trying to defend himself, even Nathalie could no longer stand by stepping forward to try and help his defense.

“Oh please. You are a JOKE, Monsieur Agreste. As Adrien’s close friend I know very well the kind of father- no the kind of MAN you are. You are a cold, abusive, manipulative, worm. You ignore your son, neglect him, and treat him as no more than a mannequin for your clothes. The only reason your business hasn’t gone under yet is because you whore your own son out banking on his popularity to keep yourself afloat.”

Gabriel felt anger and a rare sense of shame rush him all at once as he desperately choked out a reply determined to defend himself. Nathalie stepped forward readying herself to help him but he managed to get out his reply before she needed to offer her help.

“I-I am doing no such thing! I love my son and would never allow any harm to come to him!”

Marinette seemed completely unconvinced. Humming thoughtfully she tilted her head to the side locking Gabriel in her cold gaze.

“In that case perhaps you could tell me what you got him for his last birthday? Here’s a hint he didn’t even get a cake or a happy birthday from you.”

Gabriel stuttered stunned that he was being challenged in such a way he glanced to Nathalie looking to her for help but Marinette stepped in the way blocking his view.

“No? Too hard for you? Then perhaps you could tell me when you last had dinner with him?” Nothing. “Hm. Ok, what about when you last spoke with him about something besides his classes, his job, or his extracurriculars?” Nothing. “Oh, then what's your son's favorite food? Or color? What does he want to do when he’s finally 18 and free from you? Does he want to go to college? Does he even LIKE wearing your tacky awful clothing?” Silence. “Nothing huh… Here il go real easy on you. When was the last time you gave your son a hug?” Gabriel stuttered but he was at a loss for words. He didn’t know. “The last hug YOU gave him was several years ago. When I won your bowler hat competition. You haven’t even touched your own son in years, yet you have the nerve to claim you love him? That you seek to protect him? That you would NEVER have let Lila Rossi molest him near constantly had you simply ‘known’ about it.” She crossed her arms. “I am. Unconvinced. Monsieur Agreste.”

Each word was a pointed blade aiming for Gabriel, cutting him down smaller and smaller until he felt like an insect under the young girl's gaze. Yet she offered him no mercy only staring him down as if he were the scum of the earth. And right now, he felt like he very well might be. Nathalie who had been at the ready finally stepped in leveling Marinette with an icy glare of her own, though compared to the designers it was more lukewarm than anything.

“Monsieur Agreste is a very busy businessman, who has been mourning the loss of his wife!”

Marinette scoffed her icy blue eyes roaming up and down his assistant while her face morphed into a look of disgust.

“Of course YOU would defend him Miss Sancoeur. After all, you are complicit in Adrien’s abuse. Feeding him the equivalent of table scraps so he can stay the perfect malnourished model that you both need to fill your bank accounts with cash. And that is not even broaching on the fact that Adrien is quite sure you share his father's bed when you think he's not looking. After all POOR Monsieur Agreste needs some kind of warmth to ‘mourn’ his wife with while he leaves his son to become more and more emotionally damaged.”

It was Nathalie’s turn to be left a gaping, her face impossibly red with shame at the blatant accusation. In fact, neither Nathalie nor Gabriel knew how to defend themselves now. This was so far from how they had foreseen this interview going that they had nothing left with which to defend themselves with. Marinette Dupain-Cheng however seemed far from finished in fact she seemed like she was just getting warmed up.

“Listen Monsieur Agreste, I once admired your work but I now have no choice but to agree with Madame Bourgeois, you have let the death of your wife sour you into a rotten waste of a man, your designs are lackluster, cold and only look good on mannequins, your business is failing, your employees hate you, your neglectful and abusive of the only family you have left, and your stupid enough to have threatened my future career on the lies of a gold digger. I came here today only because I am a close friend of your son who begged me to give you a chance in the hopes I could help salvage your failing company. But I cannot, and I will not work with a man who is as selfish and repulsive as you.”

Checking her watch Marinette let out an annoyed hum clearly she was not pleased with how long this interview had taken. Sidestepping Nathalie who was still struggling to find the words to defend herself. She made her way to the door pausing once her hand was on the handle.

“Oh and Monsieur Agreste. If you're still determined to call yourself a fashion designer… Then the least you could do is stop dressing yourself like a candy cane themed board game mascot, found at a cheap dollar store. It’s an insult to fashion, and I’d even go so far to say that Hawkmoth has made nicer looking Akuma’s and those look like discount cartoon villains from the ’80s. Now do have a good rest of your day. And look out for my lawyers, they will be coming around sometime soon.”

And with that, she was gone. Leaving Gabriel to slump into his seat and hold his head, while Nathalie shakily took the seat across from him that Marinette had just occupied. The secretary was heavily reconsidering her life choices, perhaps her sister had been right when she said Nathalie needed a nice long vacation away somewhere sunny and warm and far from Gabriel to re-evaluate her priorities.

Gabriel however was re-evaluating his life in a much different way as everything that the young woman threw at him sunk into his head. He believed himself a practical man yet Marinette Dupain-Cheng had utterly disassembled his plan, his life, and his actions leaving him feeling like a schoolyard bully who’d just been put in time out by the teacher. He believed himself a realist, yet Marinette Dupain-Cheng had been the one to rip the wool from his eyes and force him to face the ugly reality that he ignored, his business was collapsing, his employees were either jumping ship or were utterly convinced they could get away with blatant abuse, his wife had been comatose for years, his son quite possibly hated him and when he graduated would take his leave destroying the only thing that left his business a fighting chance, and to top it all off he was wearing RED PANTS.

Leaning back in his chair he stared at his ceiling in a hazy state of fleeting thoughts. All he could think was that it has been one hell of an interview.

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#my fic #ml salt #lila salt #gabriel agreste salt #nathalie sancoeur salt #adrien agreste #adrien agreste sugar #protective marinette #bamf marinette #adrien deserves better #ice queen marinette #marinette dupain cheng #gabriel agreste #nathalie sancoeur #fic rec

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petersnya · 3 years

Text

seventeen :: p. parker ::

summary :: “we’re only seventeen,” he breathed through the grin spread across his face. Cheeks red with blush while his pink lips were chapped from the cold of the snow that fell around him as he stood outside your window. || when your eyes met those honey brown ones, you felt something, but weren’t sure if he felt it too. He felt it. 10X harder.

paring :: peter parker x asgard!fem!reader

warnings :: heavy fluff tehe, teen romance// strangers>>lovers, cursing, slight smut (HEAVY make out and maybeee grinding ;) )

word count :: 2.6k (2,646)

[a/n] :: this is just a really cute idea I had and it just flew out of me. I’m IN LOVE with this and I hope u guys. Kk I think that all <3. click here to make a request!! click here to join the tag list!!

“Have you ever noticed how dull the world is?”

Your eyes were fixed on the window of the car beside you. You watched as the snow Incase the cars around you. Not being able to tare your eyes from the window, you talked to your sister, Valkyrie, with your back turned.

“It’s 'cause you’ve lived in a world of sunshine and rainbows,” Valkyrie said in a sarcastic tone and she glanced at you through the side of her eye. The two of you were in the back of a taxi, going to a location Thor Odinson had given you. After the prophetic was for filled and Asgard had been erupted into flames by Satur, the people of Asgard followed their new leader to earth. You were clueless as to where everyone went once they had adapted to life on earth while you stayed cooped up in an apartment, not having access to the outside world— until today.

Valkyrie had gotten a call from Thor saying that he needed them to come to the address he had told her.

You watched the city of Brooklyn, New York pass by flash by with all of the colorful lights and neon sign. People yelling on the side of the road with others crossing roads- horns being hooked as everyone rushed everywhere. It was chaotic, but you loved it. It was different.

“Can you stop staring and listen for once,” you turned your body around fully to face Valkyrie as you rolled your eyes. She looked at you with a blank expression before continuing.

“Remember, this isn’t Asgard. What seem normal to you is strange to mid gardens.”

“Okay okay, I get it. Is that all?”

“Whatever- just don’t embarrass yourself. Alright sis?” She held out her fist signaling for you to bump it with yours. A small smile spread across your face when you bumped fist.

“Where here,” the two of you turned forward to look at the taxi driver who looked back through the mirror. You shrugged and opened the door to leave the car.

“Hey! Missy! Where’s my money? I don’t do this shit for fun now,” he said with a raspy voice. You looked at your sister and she shrugged with a smile. You nodded as you both ran out of the car, slamming the doors.

Running side by side, you looked over your shoulder as you flipped off the driver as he honked and drove away— Valkyries laughing sounding in the air but came to sudden stop. As soon as you turned, you face came into contact with a large mans chest in your face. You slammed into him, causing you to fall back. The brown eyed girl next to you crouched over as she laugh and point at your face.

“Ahaha!- you should have seen your face dumbass!”

“Shut up,” you groaned as you sat up, a hand being held out to you. Looking up you saw that it was Thor with a big grin on face. You grabbed his hand, pulling yourself up along with his help.

“The hell is wrong with you,” you grumbled as you wiped the snow off of your clothing.

Thor chuckled as you slung his arms around the both of your shoulders, walking into the building in front of you.

“Lady [y/n], Valkyrie, welcome to the Avengers tower.”

⌫

“Stark!” Thor’s voice boomed through tower; his thick accent being herd loud and clear. You walked behind him and your sister, your figure being hidden behind them. Your arms crossed over your chest as you scanned the place over. It was nice and had lots of cool technology. You saw an averaged height, middle aged man with facial hair approaching. He had a glass of whiskey in one hand and the other tucked away in his pocket.

“Ah yes, Stark— and man of spiders— these are the girls i wanted you to meet!”

Man of spiders? You hadn’t seen anyone else walk in but you did hear A second set of footsteps.

“This is Valkyrie,” Thor said as he placed both hands on my sisters shoulder. She sent Stark a small nod and smirk. He returned it with a wave and a small ‘pleasure’.

“Annndd…where [y/n]?”

You pushed past Thor, arms still across your chest as you stood next to your older sister.

“Oh- well this is [y/n], Valkyries younger sister,” doing the same smile and nod as your sister, you gaze landed on the boy next to Stark. His eyes were already locked on you.

The boy looked around your age, seventeen in human years. His eyes were golden, honey shade of brown that matched perfectly with the mess of chocolate curls that sat on his head. His cheeks were flushed with pink as he swallowed the lump in his throat. The clothes he wore were nothing like the boys in Asgard. You had to admit, you loved how it looking on him. You couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes stared deeply into yours, keeping you prisoner.

You loosened your arms that were formally crossed on your chest and started to play with your finger nails, not knowing what else to do. A feeling boiled inside you that you had never felt before. It was warm, and fuzzy. It sound so cliché but it was all so true.

“Ah- well it is very very nice to meet the two of you. This is the newest avenger, Peter. Peter Parker. Who is also known as Spider-Man.” Peter didn’t say anything as he continued to stare at you, but you have averted you gaze to something else.

“Tony, I think he’s frozen,” Thor said to the man next to Peter. You snorted a laugh, hand coming to cover you mouth. Tony snapped his fingers in front of the zoned out boys face.

“Uh- oh hi! I-I’m Peter Parker.. which you knew already…sorry,” he said with a nervous smile as he looked down to avoid your direct gaze.

“Ooookay, Thor will you take them to their rooms? I’m a bit busy,” Tony said as he point with his thumb to the room behind him as he walked into it. Thor nodded with his usual smile. He clapped his hands while turned towards you and Valkyrie.

“Let go shall we?”

“I can take [y/n] to her room! I-if it’s okay… is it [y/n]?” Peter called out, his eyes landing back on you. A smirk slipped onto your lips as you walked towards him and grabbed his hand. His breath hitched at the warm contact. You tried to contain your confidence as you looked at him.

“Lead the way,” you leaned into his face, “man of spiders,” you said with a giggle. Peter’s face became red.

“I love your accent,” he gushed causing you to smile widely, looking at him through your mascara coated lashes.

Peter began to walk you turn your room, you trailing behind, hand in hand. Looking over your shoulder, you winked at your sister. She laughed as she winked back. Thor looked down at her with an arched brow as you and Peter disappeared down the hall.

“What? Don’t cock block my sister!”

⌫

Approaching a gray door with a sliver handle, Peter opened it and led the two of you inside. Looking around, you were impressed by how nice it looked. It was absolutely amazing compared to the apartment you had been in. The best part to you was that you had a corner that you could sit in with a window. You already planned on watching earth through that window.

Peter started at you as you looked around the room with a smile.

“This is amazing. Thank you for showing me my room, Peter Parker.”

He almost groaned at the sound of you Asgarden accent saying his name.

“Any time,” he breathed. Looking down you saw that your hands where still in each other’s. You smiled and glanced up at him as he looked down and saw it too.

“Mrs. Stark has a message. Lights out kiddos.”

“What the fuck was that?” Your hand ripped out of Peter’s as you looked around for you could have said that. Peter laughed and explained that it was mr. Stark’s personal virtual assistant, Friday. You sighed and laughed in slight relief.

“Uh well I’ll see you tomorrow [y/n]. Goodnight,” Peter said as he walked over to the door, as smile on his face, lighting up his already rosy cheeks. You smiled back at him with a wiggle of your fingers, “night Parker,” you said as he closed the door.

Turning around you saw that there was a whole wardrobe for you. You started to strip, tacking off the sweatshirt Thor had given you to reveal your bare chest.

The door cracked open and Peter poked his head in.

“Let me know if you need—“ he paused as he saw your bare back facing him. Your looked over your shoulder with a smile.

“Thanks, but I’m good,” you slipped a shirt you found on over your head, now looking for shorts. Peter quickly closed the door.

The curly haired boy rested his back on the door as he let out a breath he had been holding in. His mind replayed the image of you body in his head on repeat. His breathing was un even as he closed his eyes, feeling the sweats he was wearing suddenly become uncomfortable. Running his hands through his thick curls he made his way back to his room.

You were finished changing, now sitting in the corner you had spotted earlier. Your chin rested on your forearms that were leaning on the windowsill. You watched the scenery out side. Fantasizing you and Peter, running and playing in the white, fluffy snow that covered the ground. You couldn’t help but think that you were a fool. How had you fallen so fast for a boy you just met one hour ago? But you could care less. You had never felt this way before, and you intend to make it last. Peter Parker was tattooed into your brain.

And tattoos never go away.

⌫

“What up,” Peter slid into the chair next to the one you sat in. It was the evening by now. You had spent the whole day exploring the avengers tower. Talking to some of the people you saw around. You started to really enjoy it there.

Currently you were sat in the living space, reading a book a lady you had met named Natasha has given you.

“Hey man of spiders.”

“Oh I’m never gonna get tired of you saying that with that voice of yours,” Peter admits. You blush at the complement.

“What you got planned for today?”

“Nothin’” you shrug, setting down your book, looking in to his beautiful eyes that you just couldn’t get enough of. You noticed him get flustered, making you smirk.

“Ok good. Make sure you keep it like that.”

That’s all he said as he quickly walked away, not giving you a chance to answer. You laughed to yourself and went back to your book. You weren’t able to focus on it though. Your mind kept going back to Peter and how much you wanted to kiss him all over and be with him. But you kept telling yourself to wait and that the day would come. You had no idea what he had planned but whatever it was, you were more then ready.

That night you were sitting on your bed, trying to learn how to use the phone Tony had given you that morning. You were in a pair of shorts with fluffy socks and a blue and yellow hoodie that you found on the couch in the room you were in earlier that day.

You herd a loud tapping on you window, causing your head to jolt up and look to see what it was. Walking over to the window you made out the shape that was there. It was peter, but he was holding some mask and wearing a blue and red suite. You assumed that it was his suite for the avengers, remembering that when Tony introduce you, he called him Spider-Man.

Rushing over, you popped the locks and opened the window.

“What the hell dude! You scared the shit out of me,” you whisper shouted at him, causing him to laughing.

“Look, I know I met you yesterday.. and this is the most cliché thing I will ever say. But I like you. Like really really like you. So please, give me this chance?”

You smiled at his words as your cheeks heated with the blood rushing to them. You nodded your head fast, letting out a giggle.

“Oh,” he let out a deep sigh, “good. I was scared you’d say no,” you chuckled nervously.

“Never,” you said with the same smile you had when you first met.

“Best part is, I get to spend the most of my time with you. We’re only seventeen,” he breathed through the grin spread across his face. Cheeks red with blush while his pink lips were chapped from the cold of the snow that fell around him as he stood outside your window.

“Come with me,” he held out his gloved hand,”trust me.”

You took his hand you slowly pulled you through the window.

⌫

You swung around town with your legs wrapped around his waist and you arms around his neck. Small screams leaving your lips whenever you would look down.

Peter landed onto of a very tall tower, letting you slip from his grasp. You stood and gazed at the breath taking view. City lights flashed all around you, cars honking and speeding past. The night sky dark. But the best part was the snow. Everything was covered in the thick white snow. Lifting your head you looked up into the sky at the snow that fell onto you face. Laughing escaped your lips and you spun around and ended up in Peter’s arms once agin.

“Shit! I’m sorry, I forgot you only had on shorts- and my hoodie,” the last part came out in a whisper.

You let a soft smile form, “I’m for Asgard. I can handle a little cold.”

“God I can’t get enough of you,” Peter said as he let his gloved hand slip around you neck as his other went to the small of your back, pulling you hips in to meet his.

Your hands rested on his biceps as one came up to the back of his head. The two of you stared at each other in comfortable silence.

“I really, really wanna kiss you right now.”

“Oh please do it man of spiders,” you both laughed for a second before Peter pulled you in for your lips to meet with his.

Your lips moved in-sync, like they were meant for each other. You felt his thumb slide across your chin before his lips parted from yours. Peter put his thumb on you lower lip, pulling it down as he smiled.

He moved his mother closer to yours, sticking out his tongue, letting it explore every part of your mouth it could reach before letting your lip go, allowing you to kiss back. You moaned into his mouth as you raised your leg to wrap around his waist. He grabbed the back of your thigh and raised it, squeezing it gently. Your lips trails off of his and to his ear as you started you grind you core onto his cock hard.

“Oh fuck,” you moaned into his ear, causing him to groan. His hands traveled to your ass, snaking and groping it.

That’s how you knew he wanted what you wanted just as bad. And oh man did you love being in love, young, dumb and seventeen.

Should I make a part 2… ;) lmk

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somnianus · 3 years

Text

On Chinese and Eastern Dramatic Acting vs Western

Part 1 Part 2

Mostly in ref to the Untamed/Word of Honor, but applies to a lot of East Asian works-

I’ve been getting the sense that people I know from the west (also being Asian-American myself) often interpret Chinese/Japanese/Korean drama and theatre to be too corny/cheesy/over-acted. A quick search on some internet forums confirms this. Maybe it’s because I used to watch a lot of C-dramas when I was a kid (Legend of the Condor Heroes/Return of C Heroes/Journey to the West/The Reincarnated Princess/etc), I personally did not notice that the acting was over the top.

I don’t really speak for the quality of acting of these actors because I barely follow them in their careers, but I do know that some of them are immature actors or don’t have much formal training (which may cause the cheesiness above). However, Eastern dramatic acting in general does seem like a common complaint, so I decided to look into it - this is all coming from someone who JUST recently got back into watching C-dramas btw, doing my own research so don’t mind me if there’s some incorrect things down here, I am by NO means at all an expert in drama and theater (lol):

^Villains are often depicted with very exaggerated facial expressions (Above, Xue Yang, The Untamed)

Part 1

1. Chinese concept of mo vs western equivalent of “mimesis” or “imitation”

From this, an excellent chapter on Chinese theatrical concepts vs Western concepts.

Mo plays a significant part in traditional Chinese theatre, usually held to be antithetical to the realism of Western theatre because of its emphasis on theatricality.

Mo means mimesis or imitation, but in a very different sense from the Western concept. One of the first Chinese scholars to use this term, Fu Sinian, used it to compare Western theatre to Chinese theatre:

Presenting a real event and performing an entertaining show are not compatible. The former emphasizes imitation (yige zhong mofang^b); the latter stresses spontaneity and entertainment. The former performance produces a lifelike image; the latter has nothing to produce. The former puts emphasis on the plot; the latter puts emphasis on theatricality. Therefore they are completely contradictory to one another.

This guy actually goes onto critique Chinese theater, saying it should be more like Western realism, so that there will “be no singing, and the acting will imitate people’s real gestures.” However! Other Chinese critics tried to approach Western vs traditional Chinese drama as two DIFFERENT but still valid forms of art. For example, Yu Shangyuan (1927) said western performance is “writing realistically” (xie shi) and chinese performance as “writing suggestively” (xie yi). Western dramas really rely on an accurate/semi-accurate representation of life and realism. Traditional Chinese drama and acting relied on the “symbolic and imaginative.”

Then what is mo? It is the emotional display, the emotional revelation, that is shown on stage. Starting from the Yuan dynasty, the Chinese drama was thought to be a continuation of poetry rather than its own independent stage art.

Poetry is where the intent of the heart goes. Lying in the heart, it is “intent”; when uttered in words, it is “poetry.” When an emotion stirs inside, one expresses it in words; finding this inadequate, one sighs over it; not content with this, one sings it in poetry; still not satisfied, one unconsciously dances with one’s hands and feet. [anonymous, 1975, from Shi Daxu 200 BCE]

Chinese drama with dancing and singing, was the most expressive product of poetry. The importance of mo cannot be stressed enough - it is the measure by which traditional Chinese drama was judged, how well this drama make you feel? Love, pain, loss, guilt, happiness? Plot becomes something that doesn’t matter as much (more on that later).

^Beijing/Peking Opera - highly stylized, emotive, “unrealistic” performances

To emphasize how central and important this concept is, it’s thought that a good Chinese playwright never fails to “seize a highly dramatic scene to stage an elaborate presentation of an emotional state.”

Love is of source unknown, yet it grows ever deeper. The living may die of it, by its power the dead live again. [Peony Pavilion, Mu dan ting]

This quote really shows how important it was to show these emotions on stage, to inspire the audience to feel deeply. Chinese critics believed that the best part about drama was how efficient it is to display emotion. Playwrights should “depict extreme bitterness, extreme happiness, extreme silliness, and extreme sobriety; imitate these feelings to the utmost (miao mo jin xing^p).”

Such performances are not necessarily accurately mimicking reality, but they are obtained through the “revelation” of a character’s internal emotional world.

2. Mo vs the depiction of reality or theatrical truth

The Chinese concept of aesthetic truth relates a lot to theatrical truth. In a lot of traditional Chinese art, painting, poetry, etc, aesthetic truth is not empirical, and doesn’t have to be accurate to life, or realistic. It’s a “truth that lies beyond mere superficial likeness.”

To the Chinese artist, an accurate resemblance between art and reality is not only superficial but often distorting. Chinese artists hold a dialectical view on the “form” (xing) and the “spirit” or “content” (shen) of an artistic object. According to them, xing and shen are not always complementary. On the contrary, they often stand in opposition to one another. (referenced in the chapter above)

Traditional Chinese artists would rather represent the object with the wish that their representation matches its spirit, or abstract identity, than its actual form because a “photographic image is a shallow image.” It’s easy to draw a picture of something realistically, but it’s much harder and more satisfying to depict its nature, its feeling, its spirit.

This also naturally affects theater and dramatic performances.

Dramatic writing can be divided into two types: “a painting-like work” or a “transformed work,” in which the latter has higher artistic value because it reaches more towards the essence of dramatic object. Realistic imitations are fine, but they’re not really enough to reveal the mo or true feelings of something.

In addition, traditional Chinese dramatists believe that “all dramas are nothing but allegories. One need not ask about their origins in actual life.” You might be able to see, then, that these older playwrights and critics really fancied the overdramatic depictions of emotions.

a. The Chinese notion of theatrical truth/aesthetic truth vs European

Onto what we, as part of the Western audience, are more used to:

For Italian neoclassical critics, the pleasure of a drama hinges on how accurate, how realistic, the depiction is. Castelvetro, the leading Italian Neo-Classical critic and creator of the concept of “the three unities,” claims thus:

We cannot imagine a king who did not exist, nor attribute any action to him.

Another Italian critic, Robortellus, said that a creative/imaginative story with no “verisimilitude” (truthfulness, in this context, realism) is less appealing than one that imitates a real-life event:

Thus if a tragic plot contained an action which did not really take place and was not true, but was represented by the poet himself in accordance with verisimiltude, it would perhaps move the souls of the auditors, but certainly less.

So basically, it’s fundamentally the opposite of Chinese theater. Italian dramatic works prized being realistic, being properly adapted from reality and real events. Chinese dramatic works, however, enjoyed the emphasis on heartfelt emotional demonstrations, or mo. Even in critical writings, the word “truth” is used, but it is usually used to modify the word “heart” or “emotion.” It is very concerned with the internal, the truthfulness of heartfelt emotional expression.

Taken these contexts, you can see why the Chinese stage/dramas are wholly “unreal” as Tao-Ching Hsu puts it. Everything, the makeup, the costumes, the props, is expressive and suggestive rather than imitative.

b. Bejing/Peking Opera, jingju

A famous example is the Beijing/Peking Opera, jingju. The makeup and costumes themselves are fantastical representations. The colors and patterns suggest different moods, temperaments, characters, and even changes in emotions. Actors would make distinct movements to depict distinct emotions with varying levels of energy. The stage itself may be sparse, because it is not as important as the expression of emotion and drama.

The stage is sparse not because of the lack of technology or funding, but because it leaves room for the actor themselves to fully express their internal thinking/feeling/emotions. Characters can cross hundreds of miles in a few steps or may take the whole stage to cross a supposed road. This representation looks “unreal” to a realistic-minded audience, but it is very genuine to a Chinese audience.

Summary (so far)

This crucial understanding of the concept of mo (the emotional revelation), and the way traditional Chinese drama depicts life and stories, informs how their modern works are also portrayed. Coming from a Western dramatic background, where realism and plot are the most important aspects of a work, it can be very confusing, right? Even Chinese scholars began to judge their own dramatic works through a Western lens.

How does this traditional background affect modern Chinese dramas and works? I think it still has a very large effect, even though much of Western ideals about dramatic works have been heavily integrated into modern Chinese dramas.

Part 2: On Theatricality and how it transfers into Chinese Cinema

#cdramas #theater #acting style #beijing opera #the untamed #word of honor #kdramas #jdramas #theatricality #east asian cinema

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