#this is part of the reason i did not pursue art as a career & chose to keep it solely as a hobby lol

[cinnamonsly]

was thinking back this morning to my AP art class i took my senior year of hs. and how my art teacher absolutely would not let us do anything other than realism lol. and how i honestly hated that class (and switched out of it after 1 semester)

i will never understand the art teachers that are vehemently against anything stylized. like just bc it’s not photorealistic & uses lineart/a more simplified shading style doesn’t automatically mean it’s not art? i feel like as an art teacher u should just be encouraging creativity in general! if ur students like drawing anime or furries or whatever else, shouldn’t you just encourage that since they’re actually taking time to learn and enjoy drawing? especially in my AP art class, where we were given a lot more freedom to choose what we wanted to draw & didn’t have set projects we would all work on as a class. and yet i was still forced to do realism (which is good practice ig but it’s boring & not what i enjoying doing solely as an artist). which is definitely the reason i ditched that class lol

[uniquezombiedestiny]

im so normal about vera. anyways heres working for the knife lyric analysis (TY MIKA)

---

I cry at the start of every movie - she's a passionate/emotional person (not the biggest reason for it, but it's related, and does tie into the main reason).

I guess 'cause I wish I was making things too - she wishes she could make permanent or big things, like pursuing art as a career. she also just wants to be childish and carefree, bc she never truly got a chance in the index. she was kidlike and happy, but never really a child.

But I'm working for the knife - the timeloop prevents from this, and so does the nature of l corp. everyone ie exposed to terrifying horrors, people die, people become jaded. she was just naive with her hopes.

I used to think I would tell stories - she did storytell as a hobby in the index <:)

But nobody cared for the stories I had about

No good guys - everyone has changed. none of c127 were really good people. and at the same time, noone cares for happy stories. noone cares for fairytales and only happiness. just kids would.

I always knew the world moves on - people change, grow, etc.

I just didn't know it would go without me - everyone in c127 changed drastically. she wanted everyone to stay together, be friends, be happy. everyone became unhappy and cold and cynical. she's the only one left behind. the only one wanting to go back (this is probably a lie honestly. even she turned cynical, just only on the inside).

I start the day high and it ends so low - she begins in her magical girl persona and ends as her true self - how she really feels beneath the blinding positivity.

'Cause I'm working for the knife - because of l corp's nature and the timeloop. really, because of self-hatred.

I used to think I'd be done by twenty

Now at twenty-nine, the road ahead appears the same - guess what? its the timeloop baby. she's repeating things over and over to try and find her happy ending.

Though maybe at thirty, I'll see a way to change - but maybe it'll change, even slightly. maybe she'll have an epiphany. maybe she'll change herself in the way she needs to to fix this. she cant just go back, after all!

That I'm living for the knife - she's bound by the timeloops. she binds herself to it of her own will because she cares so much. she's living for this. this is all her life is anymore - lobotomy corp. is all she has. if she left, she'd just have the index... and she can't be wrong after all this time!

I always thought the choice was mine

And I was right, but I just chose wrong - a part of her says it was wrong to care. she should've known her hopes were just naive fantasies. leaving the index was a stupid decision. she's just been wrong the whole time! like a kid!

I start the day lying and end with the truth - she starts with the happy magical girl persona, the childlike naivety, and ends with her hopelessness and anger. it's unfair - both in the way of a kid's yelling and a parent's teaching. life just isn't fair! yep. life's not fair, kid.

That I'm dying for the knife - the timeloop has killed her thousands of times and she will die a thousand more times. she is living and dying for this. she's dying literally, but also in the sense of like. eagerness. she wants this. because one day it has to work out. one day things have to change. one day she'll be right and it all will have been worth it. she lives exactly by the loops' rules, returning to it night and day like a lover.

[queenshelby]

My Friend’s Father (Part Five)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Age Gap, Mild Sexual References

Words: 1,848

Notes:

I have decided to make this into a series.

Alright, no judgment. This was a dream of mine and I felt like I had to write it down. Everyone in this Fic is over the age of 18 and this Fic is in no way based on Cillian’s real family life. It’s pure filth.

 *************************

YOUR POV

Two weeks had passed since you visited your friend Denise in Dublin and it was time for the annual Galway Arts Festival.

Denise had been working on a photography project for the past year and had been nominated for a student award in Galway as part of which ten of her photographs were being displayed during the Arts Festival.

Whilst, as you had expected, Cillian didn’t contact you, you knew that he would be there to support his daughter. Being an artist himself, he was very proud of her and her work and he supported her projects not only mentally but also financially with the caveat that she would finish her degree at Trinity College.

Unlike him, he didn’t want her to drop out of university even though she hated it and you certainly understood his reasoning.

Contrary to Denise, you had no creative bone in your body. You enjoyed art and theatre, but weren’t an artist or performer yourself. Instead, you were an A Grade Law Student who had become rather bored in Galway and had recently applied for a scholarship to Oxford University.

Reading was your passion and you had always been known as a geek. In school, you were the girl that no one liked, nerdy, not interested in fashion or social media and wearing braces, which, luckily, had been removed three years ago.

You were shy and it was only for Denise that you came out of your shell. She was popular in school, mostly due to her name, but also because she was generally confident and, over the years, she helped you gain confidence especially after you had left high school.

But, today, you knew you would be questioning your gained confidence once again since, first of all, you would be seeing Cillian again and the truth was that you couldn’t stop thinking about him in an intimate way and, secondly, you were featured completely naked on some of Denise’s photographs.

Whilst the photographs were artistic and not sexual in any way and your most intimate part wasn’t visible on them, it bothered you knowing that people you disliked would see you so vulnerable and you couldn’t remember why you had agreed to being photographed like that.

The other woman who Denise chose to photograph was Amalie. She was 23 and had been Denise’s friend for a while as well but, unlike you, she began modelling professionally when she was just 16. You all went to the same private school together and, clearly, her lifestyle had been largely financed by her parents. She always wore expensive clothes and had no interest in pursuing a career other than modelling, which barely sustained her lifestyle considering the few small jobs she got.

***

Just as you served your last cup of coffee to an elderly lady sitting in the corner of the café you were working at, you saw Denise, Amalie and two other friends of Denise walk in.

‘Hey guys, take a seat. I will be right with you. I am just about to finish my shift’ you said as you hung up your apron.

‘Please tell me you will get changed before the Gallery opening tonight?’ Amalie asked somewhat weirdly and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes as you sat down at the table with her, Denise and the others before ordering some coffees for yourselves.

‘No, I thought I would go like this’ you said sarcastically, looking down at your coffee-stained clothes.

‘I bought a dress for tonight’ you then said, after Amalie didn’t seem to sense your sarcasm.

‘Right’ she then said as she flicked through Instagram and you simply looked at Denise who shrug her shoulders.

‘What are you looking for?’ you asked curiously as her eyes seemed to be glued to her phone.

‘She is looking to find more photos of my dad and Laura Jennings’ Denise said, rolling her eyes.

‘Laura Jennings, as in the actress?’ you asked, causing Amalie to nod.

‘Yes, apparently they have been dating’ Amalie then confirmed, causing you to swallow harshly. You knew that you shouldn’t care but you couldn’t help it. Knowing that Cillian was seeing someone made you feel ill.  

‘And you care about that why?’ you then asked Amalie after an uncomfortable shiver ran down your spine.

‘Apparently, just like you, Amalie thinks my dad is a DILF’ Denise huffed out before telling you how disgusting you all were.

‘Well, he is though…he is super hot’ Amalie then joked before carrying on. ‘And I don’t understand how you don’t know about Laura Jennings and whether this is true or not. You need to find out’ Amalie then said but Denise simply shook her head.

‘My father doesn’t share this sort of stuff with me and I certainly don’t want to know about his sex life, thank you very much. In so far as I am concerned, he doesn’t have sex, ever…yuck! Also, I would appreciate if you could not talk about my dad anymore, please. It grosses me out’ Denise said and you knew that, all of this had become a common occurrence ever since the day the first episode of Peaky Blinders aired on BBC, a show which Denise refuses to watch herself because of the heavy sexual content and a show which you, only a week ago, had begun to binge watch.

Cillian’s POV

When Cillian walked into the basement after you had left, he immediately saw the small folded up note you had left him but, reading it, made him somewhat uncomfortable.

He was torn about what to do with it and certainly knew that he should ignore it. He couldn’t see you again even if he wanted to.

The fact that you were 23 years younger than him and that you were his daughter’s best friend made it all wrong and highly inappropriate and he didn’t know what had gotten into him in the first place when he gave into you.

He had never felt attracted towards you in any sort of way until that last visit which was the first time had seen you since you and your family had moved away.

You changed in many ways and he wasn’t sure what it was that he liked about you. But what he knew was that it was more than just sexual attraction, which was usually something he knew how to supress.

With that in mind, he placed your note into his wallet and decided to ignore it for now. But he couldn’t quite bring himself to throw it out.

***

With his bags packed it was time for him to return to Manchester and resume filming of the final season of Peaky Blinders.

The first week of filming went well and Cillian decided to spend the weekend with his friend, fellow actress Laura Jennings. Cillian and her had developed a friend with benefits sort of relationship. No strings attached and no feelings involved. After his divorce from Denise’s mother, he wasn’t ready for anything else and Laura would certainly not have been the type of woman he would have wanted a relationship with in the first place.

Unlike him, she wasn’t press shy and, whilst they kept their arrangement a secret as best as they could, she was otherwise quite active on social media.

Cillian, on the other hand, only maintained a private Instagram account with the sole purpose of being able to check on his children. Whilst they were adults, he was still worried about them, especially Denise who had recently gotten herself in a lot of trouble after distancing herself from this Jeremy boy.

***

‘Another wine?’ Laura asked as Cillian was relaxing on top of the doonas, wearing nothing but his black Calvin Klein briefs, after they had spent the last hour doing exactly what friends with benefits would do after not having seen each other for over two weeks due to busy filming schedules.

‘Yes please…thanks’ he responded as he reached for his phone after a notification had popped up.

It was his daughter Denise who had posted on Instagram and, since she hadn’t posted for a while, he decided to check it out, hoping that she wasn’t with Jeremy again.

To his surprise, three new pictures of Denise and her friends showed up when he opened the APP and, one of them, there was you.

In the picture, you were wearing accompanied by a man in his late twenties, wearing a suit while you were wearing a dark blue dress and he couldn’t help but wonder who the man by your side was.

You looked simply stunning, with your hair long and open and your shoulders exposed. You were wearing only a little bit of make up and showed your beautiful smile.  

‘There you go Mr Murphy’ Laura then said as she returned to the bedroom with another glass of wine, pulling Cillian’s phone out of his hand and climbing on top of him.

‘Round Two?’ she then asked eagerly as she reached for another condom, but Cillian’s thoughts were elsewhere entirely.

‘Maybe tomorrow, I am tired. It has been a long week, sorry’ he explained, causing Laura to pout with disappointment.

But the second round never eventuated as Cillian left Laura’s house the following morning to drive back to Manchester to resume filming.

On his way back to Manchester, he called his daughter Denise to check on her and while he did, he enquired about your companion on the Instagram posts.

‘Why do you want to know?’ Denise asked somewhat confused but Cillian played it cool.

‘He looks familiar, that’s all. Didn’t he go to your school?’ he then asked, playing dumb.

‘Oh god no, he is 29. His name is Connor and he is an accountant. Y/N wouldn’t date anyone our age. You know she isn’t a normal 21-year-old’ Denise joked, referring to your nerdiness and intellect.

‘Apparently not’ Cillian chuckled before asking another question about the stranger on the picture. ‘So, they are dating?’ he asked.

‘I think they went on two or three dates or something. Why do you care?’ Denise asked.

‘No reason. I was just wondering’ Cillian confirmed before changing the topic.

   Tag List:

@lilymurphy03@deefigs @theflamecrystal @desperate-and-broken @weepingstudentfishhorse @livinginfantaxy @rosey1981 @atomicsoulcollecto @peakyboyslover @nerdy4itall@elenavampire21 @hanster1998@mariapaiva13 @fairypitou @harry-is-your-sunflower @zozeebo @lauren-raines-x @kasaikawa @littlewierdalien @sad-huffle-nerd @theflamecrystal @peakymalfoyscullymulder @themissthang@0ghostwriter0 @stylescanbeatmyback @1-800-peakyblinders @datewithgianni @momoneymolife @ntmynouis @lilymurphy03 @mcntsee@cloudofdisney@missymurphy1985 @peakymalfoyscullymulder @otterly-fey @janelongxox @uchihacumdump @basiclassy @being-worthy @chaotic-bean-of-smolness @margoo0 @chocolatehalo @vhscillian @ysmmsy @littlewierdalien @crazymar15  @stickyknightflowerbailiff @im-constantly-fangirling @goldensunflowe-r  @tellingyouastory  @captivatedbycillianmurphy​  @namelesslosers​  @littlewhiterose​  @ttzamara​  @ttzamara @cilleveryone  ​

@peaky-cillian​

@severewobblerlightdragon​  @ysmmsy​  

[husbandohunter]

May I request a Childe X Reader fanfic where the reader has been pushing herself too hard lately and so Childe has to forcefully get her to rest? ty

By my side [Childe x Reader]//Genshin Impact

Synopsis: You were an artist and he was an adventurer. Two people from vast backgrounds and Childe just wants to spend some time of his busy life with you. However, things didn't really go his way...at first.

(Childe x F!reader. Its all fluff)

(A/n): Perfect request anon. I too, would like to have a Childe in my life. Been getting 5-6 hours of sleep on average 😃😁. Yeah kind tossed some extra ideas with artist s/o, its a perfect reason for anyone to be busy.

============================

Once recieving the permission to take a week off from his diplomatic duties, the first thing Childe thought of was none other than his lovely significant other.

The harbinger knew quite well what lays ahead of his ventures to Liyue. During his quest for the archon's gnosis, he encountered many interesting events, such as meeting the rumoured traveller hailing from afar and a broke yet courteous man who turned out to be the ultimate ruler of this very country he walks upon then there was the battle against a dead god until he revived it using the sigil of permission. All of them were great additions to his story as Ajax the hero, something he always wanted to pursue since childhood. In which, also gave him something nice to write about when preparing letters for his siblings living back home. But little did the harbinger know that he'll one day bump into the heroine. A little too soon. Through your little art shop, he met you, a sweet and audacious woman with plenty of humour. That was how it all began.

While he strides down the streets between Liyue's exquisite buildings, Childe suddenly stops in his tracks and looks up to the sky. There, was painted a scenery of an evening dusk, sun rays relfected across until red and orange hues cast a river stream that led to the ends of the world. He watched the birds follow that streak like it was a path made for them to fly towards. A new adventure. You would have loved to captured this in your pictures.

And then he wonders, what might you be painting right now?

"Hey babe, I'm home~"

In a sing-song voice he calls out to you by your nick-name. You knew that Childe was an active member of the Fatui and that his time was limited, hence he made sure to write to you as well. Of course long distant relationships only makes the waiting more anticipated. When he does pay a visit, you'd run straight into his open arms, leaping off your feet to engulf him in one enourmous embrace. Then his hands will hold against your waist as he spins your round and around in the air, stealing the laughter out of your lungs before planting you back on the floor. Sometimes Childe would consider that being far away wasn't be such a bad idea as long as he was able to experience this, the harder the battle, the sweeter the victory. However...

"That's great."

He was met by a response similar to the wintry grace of Snezhnaya.

Huh?

All the fantasies he had from earlier shatters in the background as he stands there frozen. You didn't even spare a glance to the entrance, eyes still glued to the large canvas displayed at your front, too busy to even care. Childe clicks his tongue between the awkward silence with an uncertain expression. When there was no signs of initiation on your part, he shuffled his way to where you were and observes from behind.

"Well you're particularly quiet today," he muses to himself, placing a hand over his hip, "I guess that painting of yours must be really important then."

It was obvious that he was trying to nudge you into his favour. Something that you've found endearing was how quickly your boyfriend can be when he's in a needy state. So you quickly twisted over to peck him on the cheek before going back to work.

"That's better," Childe satisfiedly grins, "So who is this project for?"

"It's a commission requested by a wealthy family serving the Qixing. They're really influential in terms of the market and can really give me a competitive edge. I have to get it done in five days."

His tone flactuates as he squints his eyes, "Five days you say," he disliked the news of your schedule taking over his own, Childe only managed to take a week off and after that, he'll be away for quite some time, "Why don't you take a break? From the looks of your progress, it seems to me that you've been working on it for hours. I've got plenty of interesting stories to tell and you know, nothing can compare to sharing a warm meal within your company," he leans down to your ear level, "How does that sound?"

Several seconds went by as he waits for some sort of reaction, "Oh. Right," you blurted out and the harbinger only smiles, "I made some food earlier this morning. You can go help yourself if you're hungry."

Today was not his day.

Childe pulls out the wooden chair and slumps into the seat, a defeated huff escaping his mouth as he stared at the crystal shrimp placed on the table. It was hastily wrapped by plastic, most likely cold for a while, just like the romantic evening he had planned in his head. Normally you'll be sitting on the otherside while listening to the many tales he went through along the way. Although painting was your passion, it was undeniable that you also enjoyed his kind of lifestyle if you ever had the choice. He was rather surprised on how someone ambitious like him would end up with such a simplistic person but quickly accepted it as life was meant to be unpredictable, just the way he likes it. As Childe entertains you with his stories, he'll listen to your giggles amidst eating the homecooked meals that you both prepared together.

"I wonder if she ate already," he mumbled to his lone self. You most likely did but Childe knows you well. Artists are obsessed and they can go as far as to neglecting their own health for the sake of their masterpieces. Hence, he made sure to remind you to eat properly through the letters he wrote to you.

The harbinger takes a quick glance around the kitchen. It was a mess. The cupboards were slightly opened, metal pots were still displayed on the stone stove and the stench coming from the sink....

Childe pushes himsel up to see what was the cause.

Not even the dishes were washed.

Running his fingers through his bangs, he sighs wearily, "Old habits die hard huh?" And above all else, when artists are obsessed they also forget how disorganized they can become. Childe begins to roll up his sleeves before taking off his gloves. At times like this he'll have to pitch in and take care of it for you, "Looks like I'll be here for a while."

Throughout three sunsets and three moonrises, Childe had no option but to observe you from afar, minus the few attempts he made to regain your attention again. How you would go to bed much later than him, waking up before he opens his eyes and the effort he put into making your food only left with too many leftovers. It wasn't that you were unappreciative, instead, your mind had become too focused that your body was considered a second priority. Like anyone else, Childe genuinely thought you possessed great talent and supports you wholeheartedly. He loved it when you painted pictures just for him as if they were scenes coming out of his hero story, reminded by his adventures, capturing every detail. However he also needed to learn how to deal with this stubborn side of yours.

"Hey babe, I just finished preparing our dinner. Don't you smell that? Such a rich aroma, you should go eat."

"I'm busy."

Your diet were just small bites, the rest being substituted by coffee. Childe could clearly tell that you weren't getting enough sleep either as there were dark circles forming underneath your eyes and slowly, he was starting to become a little irritated.

Three hours passed midnight but you were still awake in the same place doing the same thing. Childe leans against the doorframe with arms folded, already changed into his sleeping clothes. He clears his throat to break the silence, "Ahem."

Your wrist hangs in mid air by the sound of a strange visitor, it was your boyfriend. Gaze in a daze, you lazily turned your head, "What time is it?"

"Way passed the sleeping hours as you can see," he points with his thumb at the table clock in a half-hearted manner, "You should already be in bed by now and don't think you can coax yourself out of the situation this time," his eyes parted in slits as he added with a smile, "Otherwise I might just have to force you myself."

You shook your head, "Give me one more hour? There's some finishing touches I really want to add so," clasping your hands together, you beamed sweetly, "Pretty please? I'll finish up soon."

"Oh really?" Childe challenges, head tossed back like he was interrogating you instead, "I believe that was also what you told me yesterday. And the day before? Adding up all of those days that would be.....four in total?" He deliberately counts upon his fingers before facing you again, this time his expression was slightly more serious, "As much as I find your determination remarkable, there are moments when you need to consider a sufficient amount of rest and this just isn't going to cut it."

"Four days already?!" You exclaimed, "Jeez, I don't even know if I'm halfway done."

Pressing his lips together, Childe glares in an acutely deadpanned countenance, it was also his time too, "Can't you ask this commissioner to extend your due date to next week? In your case, mora shouldn't be the issue since, well...you're dating me anyways."

It's true. Childe was the main reason why you didn't have to live as a starving artist. He had all your expenses fully covered from the marketing aspect to your residence, you simply chose to work out of pure will.

"I don't want to always rely on you so much," you confessed, "This commissioner could turn my whole career around. If I'm able to gain his favour, maybe I'll get promoted to a court painter for the Qixing! Who knows when there will ever be a chance like this again," pumping your fists, you spoke purposefully, "I'll pull an all nighters if I have to!"

Childe brings his hand to his forehead, you looked as if you were nearly about to collapse and yet still considering the option of an all-nighters? The harbinger should've detained you days prior before.

"Hm? Childe, what's wrong?" He suddenly falls deadly quiet and you watched him walk closer towards you, "What are--"

Hooking an arm behind your knees and the other at your back, your boyfriend lifts you up in one full swoop as he tossed you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"Guess we'll have to do things the hard way," he remarks cheerfully.

"W-Wait," you flailed your arms and kicked your legs but to no avail. Childe was an experienced combatant indeed, "Put me down! I have work to do."

Your protests fall upon deaf ears as the harbinger carries you to your room. You were oddly lighter than the last time he carried you, the strength less vigor than before, it was obvious that your body was in need of relaxation. He suddenly thinks there was a possibility that you would maintain this habit while he was absent.

I should probably visit more often.

Using his free leg to nudge the door open, he places you upon the shared bed in a gentle manner. You winced at the impact of the soft sheets, surprised by how much it affect you.

"There we go. All done. Man, you really are a stubborn one, aren't you. Makes me a little worried since I can't spoil you all the time."

He quickly invited himself to the empty space on your bedside and wrapped his arms around your figure, pulling you close and feeling you whole. Childe made sure there was no escape once putting his chin above your hairline so that you could feel his warmth as much as possible.

"This is--" you stuttered. His tactic was enough to make your limbs soften and you could almost hear him smirk into the distance, "This is cheating..."

"You think so?" He comments as if pledging innocence, "I don't know babe. Where I come from those who take the initiative are the ones who end up claiming the prize," pulling back, Childe takes the opportunity to observe your pouty face, "I don't make the rules. It's just how it goes."

You wanted to argue back but he suddenly took the bedsheets and covered both of your bodies with, completely trapping you with his presence. He snuggles into you further as if you were a bear made of linen and you felt the drowsiness taking over your mind. The way he gently pats down the back of your head was enough to instantly lull you into a deep sleep.

"Cheater," you mumbled.

He laughs softly, the rumbles emitting through his chest, "I love you too babe."

Even after you've let go of your resistance, Childe continues his actions until he was sure that you were resting. He had been longing to touch you like this since living a chaotic life only made peaceful moments much sweeter, "You're such a hard-worker you know that? I'm proud of you but you have to know when to call it a day," he whispers, "If not, how can I go on trips while knowing that you're still refusing to eat properly?"

You closed your eyes and said nothing in return. All your senses were too cloudy to come up with a reassuring response. Childe listens to the way your breath evens as you intake his scent during the process. It smelled like the soap you used in the showers, lotus leaves mixed with his own unique musk. You could only focus on him. His comforting embrace. His slightly accelerating heartbeat because you were together with him.

Letting out one final yawn, you succumbed to his spell and allowed your energy to drift away.

The corners of his lips tug upwards, "Sleep well princess."

Childe reaches over to your desk drawer and shuts off the alarm clock before turning over to face you again. He couldn't fall asleep immediately, not when he had to consider taking care of the commissioner who gave you an impossible deadline. But that will be saved for another day, for now, he observes in silent serenity.

If he were to quit his job for a year, what would his life be like?

Peaceful. Something opposite of what he was living right now. Something similar to the life he had back home. As you arrange the many paintings in your little home, he'll offer to help you among the places you couldn't reach. Without a doubt, Childe was far taller in comparison. Taking strolls into the streets and trying the new dishes the merchants came up with. Then in the evenings, you'll both go to dinner dates while listening to the storyteller revealing the rumours of the legendary Tianquan Qixing. Although Childe loved the adventurous life he led, he had to admit that your domesticity and family-bringing atmosphere was a tempting idea.

Maybe one day.

He lightly takes a strand that had fallen over your nose and tucked it smoothly behind your ear. The soft snores coming out of your parted lips caused his gaze to melt. And so he steals them with his own, placing a chaste goodnight kiss.

One day I'll be sure to bring my family here with us.

Closing his eyes, he joins you in your slumber, hoping to see all that he envisioned in his dreams.

[kuroopaisen]

tiny love || i

➵  as tooru’s younger sister, falling in love with iwaizumi hajime is easy. your feelings aren’t ignored, either.

warnings: f!reader

wc: 3.8k

m.list ↠ ch. 2

“Can’t you let me win once?” Tooru whined, turning to Iwaizumi with his best puppy dog eyes.

“Not a chance in hell.”

“Iwa-chan—”

“Call me that again and we bring this fight into the real world.”

“You’re so mean.”

“You should’ve thought of that before challenging me to a one-v-one.”

“You know, most people have fun while playing games.”

“There’s no space for fun here,” Iwaizumi grunted. “Only winning.”

“This isn’t the court!”

“Doesn’t matter.”

You watched the two of them battle it out on Smash. You knew well enough that challenging Iwaizumi to a battle on there was a death wish. But Tooru had an insatiable need to win all the time – even if he liked to act otherwise.

You knew that hunger would take him far. And you weren’t the only one. Everyone always knew that Tooru was going to leave an impact, no matter what he chose to do.

“Hey,” Iwaizumi called out to you, giving you a small smile. “Would you like to have a go?”

“Not against you,” you laughed, shaking your head. “I’m not mad.”

“Fight Oikawa then,” Iwaizumi smirked, nodding at him. “You’ll crush him easily.”

“Hey!” Tooru whined, waving his arms dramatically. Sometimes, you thought that Tooru should’ve pursued a career in the dramatic arts alongside volleyball. There was certainly some wasted potential there.

“You might do better if you didn’t scream every time I punched you,” Iwiazumi smirked. You could feel the fondness in his voice, even if it was buried under a layer or two of mock contempt.

“I can’t help it!” Tooru wailed. “It always takes me by surprise!”

“Alright,” you grinned, getting to your feet.

“I’ll lend you a hand,” Iwaizumi said, patting the space between him and Tooru on the couch.

“That’s not fair!” Tooru whined, pouting at the two of you. “There’s no way I’ll win if you work together.”

“Oh, definitely not.” Iwaizumi flashed him a wicked grin.

Tooru turned to you with pleading eyes. “Please don’t. I can’t handle this.”

Your brother knew exactly how to pull on your heartstrings – even though he was the older one.

“He’s bullshitting,” Iwaizumi cut in, quelling your guilt before it even had time to build.

“I’m not,” Tooru huffed. “I’m terrified.”

“That’s no excuse,” Iwaizumi shook his head, flicking through the menu.

Tooru watched him, hawk-like. “What are you doing?”

“I’m giving her Meta Knight.”

“That’s not fair!”

You grinned, patting your brother on the back. “I am new to this game. I’m going to need all the help I can get.”

Tooru glared at you for a long moment. It almost felt like you were having a proper fight.

“Don’t let him get to you,” Iwaizumi chuckled, handing the controller back to you. “He’s just a sore loser.”

You couldn’t have thought of a better way to describe your brother.

But you were just glad to make an attempt to reach across the gulf between you, that impassable abyss you felt you had no hopes of leaping across. For once, it felt like you belonged in your brother’s life. 

✧ ✧ ✧

“Shit,” you grumbled, patting your pockets.

“Don’t let Oikawa hear you speaking like that,” Hajime chuckled, looking at you from the corner of his eye.

The two of you were standing in line at the local boba shop, a frequent after-school haunt for the two of you. It’s usually a little busy, swallowed up by the after-school rush of students who either didn’t do their extracurriculars at school or simply didn’t care.

“What my brother doesn’t know can’t hurt him,” you mumbled half-heartedly, looking up at Hajime with your best puppy eyes. “I forgot my wallet.”

“Again?” He grinned. “I’m starting to think you’re doing it on purpose.”

“It’s not my fault Tooru won’t lend me any cash,” you shrugged. 

Not that long ago, your brother was responsible for financing your after-school snacks. 

But since entering high school, Tooru had discovered girls. And girls had discovered Tooru.

You hadn’t expected your brother to be so highly-sought after – seeing as he was such a brat – but you weren’t about to complain about it. If he wasn’t volunteering, he usually had a date on Tuesday afternoon, which left Hajime free to walk you home.

And he never failed to do so. Every single Tuesday, Hajime would wait for you at the school gates, ready to do his duty and escort you safely back to the Oikawa household.

Of course, these trips were rarely ever linear.

You suspected Iwaizumi abhorred studying. Sitting in one spot and reading page after page of academic jargon didn’t suit him. He never complained – and he reminded you time and time again that it’s important to stay on top of your studies – but he wasn’t above finding excuses to avoid it. 

The two of you always found ways to waste time, doing absolutely anything but studying or heading home.

His favourite of these little escapades seemed to be sitting and watching the mountains. There was always something wistful in his gaze, a sense of serenity that you’d never experienced yourself. He was only one year older than you, but he always seemed a little older than everyone around him – even if he loved monster movies. 

Regardless, you never cared much about what the two of you did. You were just willing to do whatever made him smile.

“Did you get a haircut?” He asked, shocking you out of your thoughts. He was walking over to the waiting area. You scurried after him, cheeks slightly flushed.

“No,” you shook your head. “Why?”

Hajime peered at you for a second, his brow furrowed. “It looks nice.”

You scoffed. “What, are you saying it doesn’t look nice normally?”

“No,” he sighed, rolling his eyes. “It just looks… different.” He paused, eyes flicking away from you. “But your normal hair looks nice too.”

You stood there like a marble statue, praying to every conceivable deity that your face wasn’t glowing.

He always said things like that. Things that felt like they were meant to be compliments, but so laden with awkwardness that you could never tell.

And he always got so flustered. Not that you were any better. No, in some ways, you were worse.

You just couldn’t stop yourself from hoping. You loved moments like these, stolen away with Hajime in a small pocket of your week. You weren’t even sure if Tooru knew about them; were they perhaps a secret you shared?

Of course, Tooru knew that Hajime walked you home, but not what time you got home.

You always wondered if he tried to make these little trips last longer. You certainly did.

But if he ever noticed you ambling, he never reprimanded you for it. He always slowed down to accommodate you, his arm occasionally brushing against yours. It was always enough to make your heart beat just a bit faster.

Today was no different.

“You know,” Hajime said, taking a sip of his boba. “Oikawa’s still upset that you didn’t pick up volleyball.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Hajime smiled. “Something about how he can’t believe how his ‘precious little sister’ should’ve followed in his footsteps.”

“He just wants to brag,” you huffed, sipping up a pearl with vengeance. Hajime chuckled and your heart fluttered. You couldn’t help but be proud whenever you were the reason he laughed. 

“Is that why you don’t want to play?” He asked.  

You frowned. “Sort of?”

“You don’t sound certain.” 

“I don’t know…” You chewed on your lip, turning the question over in your mind. You knew that some people expected you to follow in your older brother’s footsteps. They assumed that his skill was due to overwhelming talent. For some, the natural assumption was that it must run in the family. 

You, of course, knew otherwise. If anything, the ignorance towards Tooru’s hard work was the most insulting thing about this particular assumption. 

 “I guess… I just…” You weren’t quite sure what you wanted to say. If you had any intention to ‘follow in your brother’s footsteps,’ it would be to emulate his passion and dedication. That’s what you wanted — not to be an incredible volleyball player in your own right.

“I want to find something I excel at, you know?” You admitted. “If I even try and get into volleyball, I feel like I’ll always just be Tooru’s younger sister. Like… it’d be hard to feel like I was getting opportunities on my own merits.”

That much was true. Just as much as you abhorred how people ignored Tooru’s hard work, you feared the thought that if you did follow him into volleyball, your own efforts would be ignored. Or, worse yet, played down. 

Besides, it would be hard not to get overshadowed by Tooru. Not when he shone so brightly. 

“If volleyball is what you want to do, you shouldn’t let that hold you back,” Hajime sighed. 

You shook your head. “I don’t think I want to play volleyball though.”

Hajime paused for a moment, lips pursed around his straw. The two of you had never really spoken about the future, about what either of you wanted to do with your lives. Tooru didn’t even need to say that he wanted to pursue volleyball; that much was a given. 

“Do you know what you want to do?” He asked. 

You bit the inside of your cheek. “I don’t know.”

Part of you felt silly for that. It had been so easy for Tooru — once he’d found his passion, he’d dug his heels in. Never once had he wavered, not even when he was at his most insecure. He knew what he wanted to do. He had a hunger for it. 

You could only wonder what that felt like. 

“And that’s okay.” Hajime’s voice was soft. Softer than it usually was. It’s like he knew what you were thinking, even though you hadn’t given voice to those deeper insecurities. 

“I just… I don’t know. I know that nobody else knows what they’re doing either but, like…” You almost regret starting this thought, but you’ve never had this opportunity before. It would be foolish to let it pass by. “Tooru’s always known. It’s kind of difficult to not feel like I should know what I want to do.”

Even your parents seemed to pay you less mind. You’d never really felt like you were less loved; but Tooru burned so brightly it was inevitable that you were cast in shadow. You’d worked tirelessly to root out any bitterness, but… 

“You’re allowed to be unsure,” Hajime said, interrupting your train of thought. “I know that’s redundant, but it’s true. You’ve got time.”

It was cliché. But there’s something about the way he said it that made you feel like you were floating. Maybe because it almost sounded like “It’ll be okay. I’ve got you.” 

A hand was suddenly ruffling your hair. You flinched, looking up at the boy standing next to you. 

He was smiling gently, a warmth in his eyes that made your heart beat a little faster. 

“You’ll find your strengths. I know you will.”

You held your breath for a moment, heat blossoming across your cheeks. Perhaps this boy would be the death of you. 

“Thanks, Hajime.” 

✧ ✧ ✧

There was never any damn food in your house. It was the curse that’d plagued you since you were young – many a late night expedition to your fridge turned up fruitless.

Tonight was no different.

It was past midnight, but you couldn’t sleep. No matter how hard you tried, you’d just laid there, staring at your ceiling while the hours crawled on.

So you’d scampered down stairs, phone in hand and hunger brewing in your stomach.

You squinted into the grim white light of your fridge, that familiar disappointment settling over you.

You hated nights like this. You couldn’t just lie in your bed for hours on end, thinking of nothing and everything. But you couldn’t even eat to escape your boredom.

You let the fridge door swing close with a muted thud, sighing heavily.

You turned around with a deep frown.

A figure stood in the corner of your kitchen.

A hand flew to your hand to contain your surprised yelp. ‘I have early morning training, you know,’ Tooru would say whenever you accidentally woke him up late at night – though you contended that he was just a very light sleeper, and it wasn’t your fault that the sound of the toilet flushing was enough to rouse him from his slumber.

But it wasn’t Tooru who was standing in the kitchen with you.

“Hajime,” you gasped, placing a solid hand on your chest. “Shit, don’t sneak up on me like that.”

He chuckled quietly, shaking his head. “Sorry.”

“You should be,” you mumbled, gripping your phone.

You felt stupid, but standing alone in your kitchen with Hajime was enough to make your heart race.

You glanced down at your phone quickly for a distraction. By what might be divine providence, Amaya’s name lit up the screen. You weren’t quite sure why she was rambling about the stars at 12:41 AM, but you weren’t going to judge her for it.

“What’s so interesting?” Hajime teased, his head suddenly hovering over your shoulder and much too close to your face.

You flinched, almost dropping your phone. “I—Uh—Amaya,” you managed to splutter out, quite grateful for just how dark your kitchen was.

“She’s the tall one, right?” Hajime asked, making no effort to move out of your space. You could usually deal with the fact that he was often around at your place late in the evenings – and honestly, trying to ensure that you were more presentable than usual was more exhausting than you’d given it credit for – but you weren’t used to him being this close.

Most of the time, you just stayed in your room while Tooru and Hajime spent time together. Wonderful as he was, Hajime was stressful to be around. It was hard enough keeping your feelings a secret from him. You didn’t want to think about what Tooru’s obnoxiously observant eyes would be able to notice.

“You alright?” He frowned, moving to stand directly in front of you.

You realised what was happening a moment too late, mortification digging its heels into your stomach. “Oh, uh… yeah. Yeah.”

Hajime flicked your forehead gently, chuckling.

You pouted at him, completely unsure of where to take the conversation. Usually, you could hold yourself together enough without embarrassing yourself too much. But at 12:45 at night? Impossible. Humiliation was inevitable. 

“What’re you doing up?” He asked, leaning against the kitchen counter.

“What are you doing up?” You shot back, somewhere between defensive and playful.

He grinned. God, he was aggravatingly handsome, even for a teenage boy.

“I can’t sleep,” he shrugged. “I thought I’d just watch a film or something until I got tired.”

“And then you decided to give me the fright of my life instead.”

“You could’ve been a burglar.”

“And if I was?”

“I would’ve thought of something.”

You took a moment to scan him up and down. “I feel safer already.” That was only half a joke. You were well-aware of just how buff he was. 

He chuckled, standing up to full height. “Anyway, I’m going to go and set up the TV. Feel free to join me.” He started walking off, pausing to look over his shoulder at you. “It’ll be more fun if you’re there.” 

Your heart stuttered in your chest. 

Well, how were you supposed to say no to something like that? 

✧ ✧ ✧

For someone who’d been so adamant that they couldn’t fall asleep, you were pretty quick to doze off once bundled up on the couch in the entertainment room.

Hajime had set up the original Godzilla quite efficiently, despite his technological ineptitude. He may have been bad with machines, but there was little that could separate him from his beloved monster movies. 

You’d settled yourself down on the couch, waiting patiently for Hajime to join you. You were already overthinking it. How close would you be to him? Would he be comfortable with you resting your head on his shoulder? Would it be weird for the two of you to share a blanket? 

He switched the light off and you flinched. 

“Here,” Hajime said, handing you one of the blankets as he sat himself down on the couch. He was just a hair’s breadth away from you, your shoulders barely touching. 

You always seemed to be one step away from overt affection; bodies pressed together close enough to be suspicious, furtive glances when you thought the other wasn’t looking, ‘secret’ afternoons spent revelling in each other’s company. 

God, this was so frustrating. And so adolescent. But even if you wanted to, you couldn’t work up the courage to actually say something. 

The fear of rejection was too strong. 

“You ready?” He asked, turning to look at you. 

“Hm?” 

“To start the movie.” 

“Oh.” Your brain was far too addled for this. “Yeah.” 

Hajime nodded, pressing the play button. The screen went black for just a moment before fuzzy black and white images flickered into motion. 

You tried your best to pay attention to the movie. You really, truly did. 

But you were finally getting tired. You were vaguely aware of the fact a couple ships were destroyed, and a big dinosaur-shaped monster, and something about the government. But you couldn’t keep up – not when Hajime was so close to you. 

Perhaps you should’ve gone to bed. But you didn’t want to stop spending time with him. 

But even that wasn’t enough to help you keep your eyes open. Against your sheer determination, your eyes kept fluttering closed. You were sure he’d tell you off for not just going to bed, but you still weren’t ready to leave just yet. 

But he was so warm pressed against you, the dim light of the room so soothing, the din of an old movie a quiet lull… 

“Hey.” 

A gentle voice came from above you. 

You opened your bleary eyes, only to immediately squint. Wait, what was going on? Where were you? 

“Wake up.” 

Oh, that was Hajime’s voice. Why was… That’s right. You were watching a movie with him. 

And now, you were....

Oh, shit. You were leaning on his shoulder. If you were a little more lucid, then maybe you would’ve repositioned yourself. 

But you were tired, and he was comfortable. And, he hadn’t pushed you off yet. 

“What time is it?” You mumbled, stifling a yawn. 

“It’s two.” 

“Oh.” You blushed. “Whoops.” 

Hajime chuckled. “I thought you said you couldn’t sleep.”

“Yeah,” you groaned. “But then I got sleepy.” 

“Then you should’ve gone to bed,” he chided. But there was a playful tone to his voice. 

You huffed, shifting yourself off his shoulder to get a better look at his face.

Even in the monochrome half-light of the TV, he was still obnoxiously handsome. Maybe not in the most classic of ways – there was something rougher about him, something unpolished, unrefined. But you’d always liked the honesty in his face; you felt it matched his personality perfectly. Some of your friends thought he looked kind of intimidating, but you’d always disagreed. To you, he looked kind. Maybe not in the most traditional sense, but in a way that was truly his. 

Oh man, you were drowsy. If you were more lucid, you’d have known better than to just sit and stare at his face. 

But he was staring right back, a certain tenderness in his eyes. You’d seen it before, on your walks home and in the quiet moments you shared. But he’s never been this open about it before. If you caught him, he usually looked away, cheeks turning a slight shade of pink. 

But tonight, he seemed to be fearless. 

You wondered – no, you hoped – that maybe, just maybe, your suspicions were correct. That he did indeed feel the same as you. 

A hand came up to cup your cheek. You leant into it instinctively, letting the weight of your head rest against his palm. 

Hajime smiled, stroking a gentle thumb over your cheek. His hands were a little rough, just as you’d expected, but they’re so gentle. 

You were about to go into cardiac arrest. You could feel it in every inch of your body. There’s no way he couldn’t hear your heartbeat – not when it was thrumming so loudly in your ears. 

“You’re so cute.” 

It took you a moment to process what he’d just said. 

Wait, he called you cute? While looking at you like that? There was no way you were making it out of this room alive– 

He leant in, pressing his lips against yours softly. You froze, every nerve in your body now on high alert. 

Iwaizumi Hajime? Kissing you? No way. No. Better yet, your first kiss? You had to be dreaming. There was no way this was happening. 

And yet the burning of your cheeks, the swelling of your heart, the feeling of his lips pressed against yours all said otherwise. This was happening. 

It was a little clumsy, a little stiff. But you didn’t care. What mattered was that it was happening. That your heart was hammering in your chest at an inhuman speed. That finally, finally, you could express this affection you had for him. 

You wanted to move, to touch him, to hold him close. But you were too dumbstruck to move, content to just stay like this for as long as he’d let you. 

He pulled away after a long moment, eyes half-lidded as he gazed at you. He was smiling widely – a rare, full-bodied smile. 

Oh. He was smiling like that because of you. Against all odds, your heart found a way to beat even faster. 

“We should go to bed,” he said, voice a few shades deeper than usual. 

The red of your cheeks deepened.

“Different beds,” he added quickly, clearing his throat. You’d thought that much was obvious, but you weren’t about to tell him that. God, you hate being seventeen. 

Somehow, you managed to get yourself out of that little room and up the stairs. He was right behind you, close enough to keep your mind muddled and your heart thrumming. There was no way you were going to be able to sleep. You’d be thinking about this all night. 

You said nothing to each other as you bid farewell, simply giving each other a small nod. You weren’t sure if it’s because he wanted to be polite, or if he was left just as speechless as you were. 

But as he walked away, he turned to give you one last smile for the night, letting it say everything he couldn’t. 

You took a deep breath as he walked away, the ghost of his kiss on your lips and your head whirling. 

You were excited for what the morning would bring.

a/n: !!!!! big thank you to ren, as always, for beta’ing this :( we’re in for a ride, fellas 

[cheesecakeanon]

You totally didn’t ask for this detailed of an answer, but here I am offering you one anyway hahaha

For those of you who are in college or have graduated from college, how did you figure out what you wanted to major in?

I was fortunate enough to both be in a position to have some freedom in my major selection and to have parents who were pretty open about any/all ideas I had regarding college—the biggest expectation they had for me on that front was really just that I got a degree, and even then, I think if I had dropped out at some point, they would’ve been relatively on board with it provided I could give them a justifiable reason for doing so.

That said, I chose the programs I wanted to apply for based on things I could see myself doing for the rest of my life/for a decent portion of my life: HS History Education; Law/Political Science/Criminology; and Music Composition. The hard part came when I heard back from schools and had to choose which avenue to follow—majors in the performing arts usually require a boatload of credits, so if I wanted to double major in music + something else, there was a high likelihood it would take me more than four years to finish my degree. That wouldn’t have been a bad thing, but it was definitely a consideration that I felt I needed to keep in mind when trying to pick.

At the end of the day, I ended up choosing the second option among those three, my rationale being that it was the option that required the highest level of education to pursue, and that if I ever wanted to switch to either of the other options, it would be far easier to do so than it would be to suddenly up and decide to get a law degree. (Note: I now am working full time and going to law school in the evenings, and I may regret that decision, but we can talk about that can of worms later lol)

For those of you who are in college, or have graduated from college, and know what career they want to go into, how did you figure out what career you wanted to go into?

This answer sort of bleeds over from the last—I spent a lot of time in HS trying to figure out who I was and the legacy I wanted to leave in the communities that I’d been a part of. I’d always been overly involved in student organizations and extracurriculars, but my senior year, I really started trying to analyze the “what do you want to do?” question alongside the “what kind of legacy do you want to leave?” one, which is sort of how I ended up here.

When I was in middle school, I watched too much Criminal Minds and wanted to work for the BAU—I wanted to solve puzzles and catch the bad guys, if you will—so I did as much ‘research’ as a 12/13-year-old can claim to have done and announced to my parents that I’d be going to X school for Y programs and would then go work for that team by Z year. Somewhere in the preceding years to this ordeal, I’d been set on being a lawyer (at the time because ‘I liked arguing,’ which is a terrible reason to go to law school, kiddos, don’t do it) so the idea-based seed of practicing law had already been planted there.

When I was in high school, I found myself at this weird crossroad between learning about what lawyers can actually do to help people and change policy and in a completely different vein, wanting to create things that brought me and others joy. I’d given myself the freedom to write music and fiction (and fanfiction, let’s be honest) and discovered that I wasn’t half-bad at it, so when senior year came around, I wasn’t so sure I wanted to let go of the opportunity to keep doing so.

In my head, I’d basically told myself “it’s X career related to law or Y career related to music or Z career related to writing,” and I hadn’t let myself consider otherwise, but THEN!! Then I graduated college and was thrust into the working world—specifically, into a job that was definitely a good stepping stone to get from where I was to at least one of the potential career paths that I’d considered, but wasn’t creative at all—which was when I realized that none of those things needed to be distinct.

Obviously there’s something to be said here for time management and the fact that I’m on the younger end of adulthood—I don’t have the same responsibilities or obligations that someone with a mortgage or children would have—but in the middle of that first year of working, I came rather startlingly to the same conclusion I’d made when I was a senior in High School: I didn’t need a degree in music to make it. That sounds quick and pithy but the point was broader than that; if I wanted to eventually do something with the musical skills that I had, there were ways for me to keep honing them while I pursued the career path option(s) that absolutely, hands down, needed a professional degree. At some point in the future, when the law degree was there and I was actually qualified to do any/all of the things I mentioned earlier—that would be where the brilliant chaos of actually merging those things would kick in. In the meantime, I could write a novel, work full time during the day, go to law school at night, and release an album of original music all within a six month period of time (what can I say, July ‘20–Feb ‘21 was a wildly productive time for me) to see how that felt and if it could be sustainable.

Very long winded answers here, so…sorry about that, but the short version is the following: I thought I knew the career I wanted at 18 in a very binary, straight-laced sense, and it turns out I didn’t—or at least not entirely. I knew where I wanted to start, so I chose the majors that would qualify me for the career that was going to require the most educational/professional experience. Since graduating, I’ve been able to see that any/all of those careers can coexist, I just might have to create the career path on my own to make it happen.

I think this is exactly the kind of story I needed to hear. I think this story supports my plan really well. Thank you so much!

[allie1804-fan]

Malaise (Chapter 1 - Calling Tara)

Warnings: Mentions of escort services and sexual acts

Notes  - I wanted to try and write something that I imagine might be a bit closer to the real experience of Keanu than my stories with romance and babies etc. Not completely sure where it’s going just yet but thought I would put out my first 2 chapters and see what people think.

Keanu stared at the phone in his hand again, thumb poised over the green phone symbol. He didn’t quite know why he was hesitating.  He had found himself unable to make even the simplest of decisions with any speed lately. His hand drifted down to his groin where he rubbed himself absent-mindedly. He took a deep breath and tapped “call”.

 “Codename please” the robot voice said

 “KCR”

 “please type in your pin”

He punched in 090264 wondering once again if he should really try to cover his tracks with things like this but nothing had leaked in the 10 years+ of using the agency . They were discrete and the system was designed to shield the calls by using the pin system and he was careful with his phone, never giving details to strangers. Heaven forbid if his number got out to hackers and they figured out that he made fairly regular calls to an elite escort agency!

Once through to a human being at their end, he asked for Tara who was his regular. He needed sex and as soon as she was available.  He specified “the usual” and put the phone down, going out to sit by the pool and have a smoke as distraction from his horniness.

He’d  tried a couple of his “friends with benefits” before calling the agency but they were out of town and he didn’t want to call Autumn, she was too needy for how he was feeling right now. There was history there of an on and off relationship in the early 90s that had been one of the ones that proved to him that he wasn’t cut out for commitment. She couldn’t deal with his regular absences to shoot films and he couldn’t stay faithful for that long either. Still, even now, they’d  end up in bed together sometimes, but he knew she still wanted more, more than he could give so it wasn’t fair to her. Back in the day she’d been more wild and bohemian, more aligned with his view that sex was just sex and you could enjoy it with or without the emotional baggage.  And she’d been willing to let him try things in his younger days like anal sex and a bit of BDSM - she liked to be dominated. Neither of those things were really his bag now but he’d been on a journey  of sexual discovery back when they started adding sex into the mix and she’d been a willing traveller.

He’d been in London a couple of weeks back and met up for dinner with an actor /writer friend Doraly – she wasn’t seeing anyone just now either and they both needed release so they’d gone back to her flat afterwards and fucked. That had been the last time and now he was antsy.

He got a text from the agency about 15 minutes after placing the call. Tara could come tomorrow. With Tara, part of the deal was to share some conversation and food first, basically a bit of a fake date night. The irony wasn’t lost on him that he wanted to have the trappings of a date as part of the sex he was buying! He dropped her a text to ask what she fancied  -  she chose dim sum and wan tons - she knew him well enough to choose something he liked too.

Later when he went to bed, he jerked off not wanting to come too quickly the next day. He thought about Tara as he pulled on his cock, imagining her fragrant thighs astride his head. That was always the first part of ‘the usual’  - she had the most delicious pussy and he would always feast on that first before straight sex of some kind. He wasn’t required to specify positions for that, only if there was anything they classified as kinky or out of the ordinary.

The next day, he went for a long ride up PCH to clear his head and kill some time.  Tara was due to his house at 6.30 and the dim sum at 7. He’d got a fine bottle of Chablis, her favourite white and he was looking forward to catching up with her. She was always interested in his work and she enjoyed theatre, movies and books so there was always something interesting to talk about. Best of all, there were no demands. He only had to give what he was willing to and mostly that was wanting to be sure she had at least one orgasm – he derived at least some of his satisfaction from that as well as the obvious appreciation she had for his body. There was no need to keep her at an emotional distance because she didn’t ask for emotional closeness from him, not beyond the session that is. She was good at the whole date night scenario as long as it lasted though and that’s what he wanted tonight.

With the other women in his life, barriers were put up. Sometimes that was in quite a formal way so if he was with someone new, he’d make clear he wasn’t able to commit to a long term or monogamous relationship. He’d usually blame this on work and of course that was a major practical factor, but a voice inside told him there were probably other things in his personality or life experience that prevented him from wanting a long term relationship. He valued his time alone as well – not just the time to pursue his career and help run the Arch business. He wanted to be able to spend a day reading or playing chess against the computer or simply taking off on his bike or to the beach without anyone being pissed off about it.

The other barriers to closeness he put up were more subtle. He was always very guarded about sharing personal information beyond what he liked in the arts and what food he liked, he would avoid introducing women to other friends or family and would rarely go out with them in public, ostensibly to protect them from publicity.

In his younger days, he simply had not been ready to commit to one person and the practical issue of going away so often for filming or publicity had made that impossible too in combination with his healthy appetite for sex - he wasn’t able to go without for that long. Then as he’d got older and more famous, meeting someone who was really interested in him as a person,  not as a meal ticket or a connection to exploit, became increasingly difficult and led him to put up barriers. And then there had been Jen and Ava, a terrible situation filled with loss and angst that had finally closed the door, he was pretty sure, for good. In truth, he hadn’t gone into that relationship with monogamy or kids in mind either, it had been thrust upon him but he had loved her and the loss of both the baby and then her left him feeling like him being in a relationship was a curse that he should not inflict on anyone.

He thought about all this on the ride. He knew his physical needs could not be met without ‘work’ (at maintaining a relationship or multiple ‘special’ friendships) or resorting to calling on Tara or one of the other escorts when she wasn’t free. That need for sex was one of the reasons he had 2 or 3 friends with benefits on a kind of rotation and why he sometimes, against his better judgement usually, embarked on a fling with a fellow cast member, or occasionally there would be a random meeting in everyday life like Anita who had worked as a PA to his mother for a while. Those flings could sometimes be quite passionate for a month or so, sometimes longer and he knew his instincts for generosity and chivalry could sometimes war against those proclamations of not wanting commitment. That had caused some fiery endings  such as with Lynne Collins. He’d even been quite public with her, eating out, shopping, flying up to New York to see her in “As you Like it” and attend the after party as her date – all signals, along with the good loving he always tried to give his ladies, that suggested he hadn’t really meant it about not committing – but he had and she sure did not like it, dropping him like a hot potato when he made that abundantly clear. That wasn’t an unusual pattern in terms of how women eventually responded to his lack of commitment. He was always clear about his position up front, but it didn’t always put off the women who did want something longer term. They probably thought they could change him and those behavioural mixed signals no doubt kept them thinking they would be the one to break him! Eventually though, they would lose interest and the cycle would start again.

He loved sex and exploring women’s bodies, getting to know them – that’s one reason he kept going back to the same friends and escorts. The flings came in for the thrill of the new he guessed, it wasn’t that he was looking for ‘the one’, at least he didn’t think so.  With a few women in the past there had been a real connection and intimacy that had been monogamous for a time but that was a long ago now.

He returned from his ride at around 4 giving him time for a shower, a nap and putting fresh sheets on the bed before Tara arrived in her cab.  He hadn’t seen her for a few months having been away on a shoot  - as she stepped out of the car and came up the drive, he saw she was as slender,  beautiful and well turned out as ever. She was tall with long, wavy chestnut hair and in keeping with his taste, quite large breasts – all natural too, another preference. He greeted her with a kiss on the cheek and invited her in.

@penwieldingdreamer @fortheloveoffanfic @kindainlovewithkeanu @ladyreapermc @witty-wallflower @gatsbynouvel @bitchyslut99 @keanureevesisbae @omg-imagine @iworshipkeanureeves @fics-not-tragedies @ficsnroses @kindainlovewithkeanu @paperplanesandwallflowers

[letterboxd]

Noir Zealand Road Trip.

Breakout noir filmmaker James Ashcroft speaks to Letterboxd’s Indigenous editor Leo Koziol about his chilling new movie Coming Home in the Dark—and reveals how Blue Velvet, Straw Dogs and a bunch of cult New Zealand thrillers are all a part of his Life in Film.

“Many different types of feet walk across those lands, and the land in that sense is quite indifferent to who is on it. I like that duality. I like that sense of we’re never as safe as we would like to think.” —James Ashcroft

In his 1995 contribution to the British Film Institute’s Century of Cinema documentary series, Sam Neill described the unique sense of doom and darkness presented in films from Aotearoa New Zealand as the “Cinema of Unease”.

There couldn’t be a more appropriate addition to this canon than Māori filmmaker James Ashcroft’s startling debut Coming Home in the Dark, a brutal, atmospheric thriller about a family outing disrupted by an enigmatic madman who calls himself Mandrake, played in a revelatory performance by Canadian Kiwi actor Daniel Gillies (previously best known for CW vampire show The Originals, and as John Jameson in Spider-Man 2). Award-winning Māori actress Miriama McDowell is also in the small cast—her performance was explicitly singled out by Letterboxd in our Fantasia coverage.

Based on a short story by acclaimed New Zealand writer Owen Marshall, Ashcroft wrote the screenplay alongside longtime collaborator Eli Kent. It was a lean shoot, filmed over twenty days on a budget of just under US $1 million. The film is now in theaters, following its premiere at the Sundance Film Festival in January, where it made something of an impact.

Erik Thomson, Matthias Luafutu, Daniel Gillies and Miriama McDowell in a scene from ‘Coming Home in the Dark’.

Creasy007 described the film as “an exciting New Zealand thriller that grabs you tight and doesn’t let you go until the credits are rolling.” Jacob wrote: “One of the most punishingly brutal—both viscerally and emotionally—first viewings I’ve enjoyed in quite a while. Will probably follow James Ashcroft’s career to the gates of Hell after this one.”

Filmgoers weren’t the only ones impressed: Legendary Entertainment—the gargantuan production outfit behind the Dark Knight trilogy and Godzilla vs. Kong—promptly snapped up Ashcroft to direct their adaptation of Devolution, a high-concept novel by World War Z author Max Brooks about a small town facing a sasquatch invasion after a volcanic eruption. (“I find myself deep in Sasquatch mythology and learning a lot about volcanoes at the moment,” says the director, who is also writing the adaptation with Kent.)

Although Coming Home in the Dark marks his feature debut, Ashcroft has been working in the creative arts for many years as an actor and theater director, having previously run the Māori theater company Taki Rua. As he explains below, his film taps into notions of indigeneity in subtle, non-didactic ways. (Words in the Māori language are explained throughout the interview.)

Kia ora [hello] James. How did you come to be a filmmaker? James Ashcroft: I’ve always loved film. I worked in video stores from the age thirteen to 21. That’s the only other ‘real job’ I’ve ever had. I trained as an actor, and worked as an actor for a long time. So I had always been playing around with film. My first student allowance that I was given when I went to university, I bought a camera, I didn’t pay for my rent. I bought a little handheld Sony camera. We used to make short films with my flatmates and friends, so I’ve always been dabbling and wanting to move into that.

After being predominantly involved with theater, I sort of reached my ceiling of what I wanted to do there. It was time to make a commitment and move over into pursuing and creating a slate of scripts, and making that first feature step into the industry. My main creative collaborator is Eli Kent, who I’ve been working with for seven years now. We’re on our ninth script, I think.

But Coming Home in the Dark, that was our first feature. It was the fifth script we had written, and that was very much about [it] being the first cab off the rank; about being able to find a work that would fit into the budget level that we could reasonably expect from the New Zealand Film Commission. I also wanted to make sure that piece was showing off my strengths and interests—being a character-focused, actor-focused piece—and something that we could execute within those constraints and still deliver truthfully and authentically to the story that we wanted to tell and showcase the areas of interest that I have as a filmmaker, which have always been genre.

Do you see the film more as a horror or a thriller? We’ve never purported to be a horror. We think that the scenario is horrific, some of the events that happen are horrific, but this has always been a thriller for me and everyone involved. I think, sometimes, because of the premiere and the space that it was programmed in at Sundance, being in the Midnight section, there’s a sort of an association with horror or zany comedy. For us it’s more about, if anything, the psychological horror aspect of the story.��

It’s violent in places, obviously, but there’s very little violence actually committed on screen. It’s the suggestion. The more terrifying thing is what exists in the viewer’s mind [rather] than necessarily what you can show on screen. My job as a storyteller is to provoke something that you can then flesh out and embellish more in your own psyche and emotions. It’s a great space, the psychological thriller, because it can deal with the dramatic as well as some of those more heightened, visceral moments that horror also can touch on.

Director James Ashcroft. / Photo by Stan Alley

There’s a strong Māori cast in your film. Do you see yourself as a Māori filmmaker, or a filmmaker who is Maori? Well, I’m a Māori everything. I’m a father, I’m a husband, I’m a friend. Everything that I do goes back to my DNA and my whakapapa [lineage]. So that’s just how I view my identity and my world. In terms of categorizing it, I don’t put anything in front of who I am as a storyteller. I’m an actor, I’m a director. I follow the stories that sort of haunt me more than anything. They all have something to do with my experience and how I see the world through my identity and my life—past, present and hopefully future.

In terms of the cast, Matthias Luafutu [who plays Mandrake’s sidekick Tubs], he’s Samoan. Miriama McDowell [who plays Jill, the mother of the family] is Māori. I knew that this story, in the way that I wanted to tell it, was always going to feature Māori in some respect. Both the ‘couples’, I suppose you could say—Hoaggie [Erik Thomson] and Jill on one side and Tubs and Mandrake on the other—I knew one of each would be of a [different] culture. So I knew I wanted to mirror that.

Probably more than anything, I knew if I had to choose one role that was going to be played by a Māori actor, it was definitely going to be Jill, because for me, Jill’s the character that really is the emotional core and our conduit to the story. Her relationship with the audience, we have to be with her—a strong middle-class working mother who has a sort of a joy-ness at the beginning of the film and then goes through quite a number of different emotions and realizations as it goes along.

Those are sometimes the roles that Māori actors, I often feel, don’t get a look at usually. That’s normally a different kind of actor that gets those kinds of roles. And then obviously when Miriama McDowell auditions for you it’s just a no-brainer, because she can play absolutely anything and everything. I have a strong relationship with Miriama from drama-school days, so I knew how to work with her on that.

Once you put a stake in the ground with her, then we go, right, so this is a biracial family, and her sons are going to be Māori and that’s where the Paratene brothers, who are brothers in real life, came into the room, and we were really taken with them immediately. We threw out a lot of their scripted dialogue in the end because what we are casting is that fundamental essence and energy that exists between two real brothers that just speaks volumes more than any dialogue that Eli and I could write.

Matthias Luafutu as Tubs in ‘Coming Home in the Dark’.

What was your approach to the locations? [The area we shot in] is very barren and quite harsh. I spent a lot of time there in my youth, and I find them quite beautiful places. They are very different kinds of landscapes than you normally see in films from our country. We didn’t want to go down The Lord of the Rings route of images from the whenua [land] that are lush mountains and greens and blues, even though that’s what Owen Marshall had written.

I was very keen, along with Matt Henley, our cinematographer, to find that duality in the landscape as well, because the whole story is about that duality in terms of people, in terms of this world, and that grey space. So that’s why we chose to film in those areas.

Regarding the scene where Tubs sprinkles himself with water: including this Māori spiritual element in the film created quite a contrast. That character had partaken in something quite evil, yet still follows a mundane cultural tradition around death. What are your thoughts on that? Yeah. I’m not really interested in black-and-white characters of any kind. I want to find that grey space that allows them to live within more layers in the audience’s mind. So for me—and having family who have spent time in jail, or knowing people who have gone through systems like state-care institutions as well as moving on to prison—just because you have committed a crime or done something in one aspect of your life, that doesn’t mean that there isn’t room and there aren’t other aspects that inform your identity that you also carry.

It’s something that he’s adopted for whatever reasons to ground him in who he is. And they can sit side by side with being involved in some very horrendous actions, but also from Tubs’ perspective, these are actions which are committed in the name of survival. You start to get a sense Mandrake enjoys what he does rather than doing it for just a means to the end. So any moment that you can start to create a greater sense of duality in a person, I think that means that there’s an inner life to a world, to a character, that’s starting to be revealed. That’s an invitation for an audience to lean into that character.

Erik Thomson and Daniel Gillies in ‘Coming Home in the Dark’.

What is the film that made you want to get into filmmaking? The biggest influence on me is probably David Lynch’s Blue Velvet. I saw that when I was ten years old. A babysitter, my cousin, rented it. It’s not a film that a ten-year-old should see, by the way. I was in Lower Hutt, there in my aunty’s house, and it was very cold, and there’s a roaring fire going. My cousin and her boyfriend were sitting on a couch behind me, and they started making out. I sort of knew something was going on behind me and not to look. So I was stuck between that and Dennis Hopper huffing nitrous, and this very strange, strange world opening up before me on the television.

I’ve had a few moments like that in my life [where a] film, as well as the circumstance, sort of changed how I view the world. I think something died that day, but obviously something was born. You can see what Lynch did in those early works, especially Blue Velvet. You don’t have to go too far beneath the surface of suburbia or what looks normal and nice and welcoming to find that there’s a complete flip-side. There’s that duality to our world, which we like to think might be far away, but it’s actually closer than you think.

That speaks to Coming Home in the Dark and why that short story resonated with me the first time I read it. Even in the most beautiful, scenically attractive places in our land, many different types of feet walk across those lands, and the land in that sense is quite indifferent to who is on it. I like that duality. I like that sense of we’re never as safe as we would like to think. Blue Velvet holds a special place in my heart.

What other films did you have in mind when forming your approach to Coming Home in the Dark? Straw Dogs, the Peckinpah film. The original. Just because it plays in that grey space. Obviously times have changed, and you read the film in different ways now as you might have when it first came out. But that was a big influence because there was a moral ambiguity to that film; those lines of good and bad or black and white, they don’t apply anymore. It just becomes about what happens when people are put under extreme pressure and duress, and they abandon all sense of morals. The Offence by Sidney Lumet would be another one, very much drawn to that ’70s ilk of American and English filmmaking.

‘Coming Home in the Dark’ was filmed on location around the wider Wellington region of New Zealand.

Is there a New Zealand film that’s influenced you significantly? There’s a few. I remember watching The Lost Tribe when it was on TV. That really scared me. I just remember the sounds of it. Mr. Wrong was a great ghost story. That stuck with me for a long time. The Scarecrow. Once I discovered Patu! [Merata Mita’s landmark documentary about the protests against the apartheid-era South African rugby tour of New Zealand in 1981], that sort of blew everything out of the water, because that was actually my first induction and education that this was something that even occurred. I think I saw that when I was about eighteen. That this was something that occurred in our history and had ramifications that were other than just a rugby game.

And Utu, every time I watch that, it doesn’t lose its resonance. I get something new from it every time. It’s a great amalgamation of identity, culture, of genre, and again, plays in that grey space of accountability. Utu still has that power for me. It’s one of those films, when it’s playing, I’ll end up sitting down and just being glued to the screen.

It’s a timeless classic. I will admit that when I watched your film, The Scarecrow did immediately come to mind, as did Garth Maxwell’s Jack Be Nimble. Yeah. [Jack Be Nimble] was really frightening. Again, it was that clash of many different aspects. There was a psychosexual drama there. You’ve got this telekinetic mind control and that abuse and that hunkering down of an isolated family. There are plenty of New Zealand films that have explored a sort of similar territory. They’re all coming to me now.

Bad Blood has a great sense of atmosphere and photography and the use of soundscape to create that shocking sense of isolation and terror in these quick, fast, brutal moments, which then just sort of are left to ring in the air. But I love so much of New Zealand cinema, especially the stuff from the ’80s.

Kia ora [good luck], James. Kia ora.

Related content

Leo’s Letterboxd list of Aotearoa New Zealand Scary-As Movies Adapted from Literature

Dave’s Cinema of Unease list

A Brutal Stillness: Gregory’s list of patient, meditative genre films

Sailordanae’s list of Indigenous directors of the Americas

Follow Leo on Letterboxd

‘Coming Home in the Dark’ is available now in select US theaters and on VOD in the US and New Zealand. All photographs by Stan Alley / GoldFish Creative. Comments have been edited for length and clarity.

[escher-room-with-a-view]

williams family headcanons

this will focus largely on my HCs regarding the dynamics between different members of sarah’s family. jeremy is also there.

looooong post under the cut!

for much of her life, especially after her mother left, sarah has felt like she hasn’t had anyone to talk to or anyone who cares about her. because of this, she would often keep her feelings to herself because she didn’t think anyone would understand, and she didn’t want to bother anyone who wouldn’t care anyway. it’s this restraint that used to make her feel like lashing out and hurting people whom she knew didn’t deserve it, particularly members of her family. linda was usually exempt from this anger; sarah feels tremendously guilty for her occasional violent desires and is trying to work on them, but she appears to be clinging to the vain hope that linda might someday change her ways and the two can be at peace. even after her journey, she seems to have difficulty accepting that that “someday” might never come.

whether sarah inherited or learned her temper from linda is up for debate; what is known, though, is that it runs in her mother’s side of the family. when the two argued, it was often because sarah felt that linda was putting too much pressure on her or not understanding her. in the heat of the moment, linda has said things once or twice that one can’t exactly take back. sarah once justified this to herself by thinking that she provoked her mother, but she’s coming to realize that it isn’t what she thinks so much as it is what she believes she’s expected to think. either way, it hurts her deeply. in fact, sarah is so close to linda that the idea that her mother can do (and has done) anything wrong still comes as a shock to her. she’s especially inclined to forgive her mother for having been petty and nasty in the past because of linda’s affectionate (and admittedly sincere) way of trying to make up for it. sarah’s RSD is the type that makes her feel enormous relief whenever she has some sort of closure. she can spend days agonizing over the idea that someone might hate her, but the minute she’s told she’s been forgiven or even that the other person was never angry at all, she can let it go in an instant. (in fact, this is partly why she’s so kind to her friends, especially hoggle. she knows how it feels to think you’ve done something horrible and unforgivable, even if that isn’t the case—and she doesn’t want anyone to feel the same way.)

sarah likes jeremy, who is exceptionally nice to her and genuinely wants her to feel included. he does his best to be a “fun” sort of father figure, but also acknowledges that he can’t replace her own father and doesn’t try to pressure her into accepting him the way irene somewhat did when she moved in. in fact, jeremy treats sarah almost like a friend and is more lenient with her even than her own mother. he’s always standing up for her and buying things for her that he thinks she’ll like. the two also have several inside jokes that they find hilarious. in general, whenever jeremy cares about someone, he’s very keen on making it known so that they never doubt his authenticity; this is partly why linda gravitated toward him, as she felt like he was more compassionate and cooperative toward her than robert was, and they had more in common.

sarah wasn’t pressured into sharing her mother’s interest in theatre; it came naturally. though linda had some influence, most of sarah’s special interests developed largely on their own. however, sarah tends to be saddened by the fact that linda doesn’t seem to care about her interests unrelated to theatre and never really has. when it comes to anything she has no personal connection with, linda seems indifferent and unaffected no matter how excited sarah is. linda wishes she could bring herself to care more, but she simply doesn’t know how and in some cases isn’t even willing to put in the work. there are few subjects on which linda and sarah are able to have in-depth conversations; one of these is the performing arts, so whenever sarah is around linda it makes up the bulk of what she talks about. sarah desperately craves her mother’s approval, still blaming herself for linda’s departure, and often catches herself acting in ways she thinks will earn that approval even when linda isn’t around.

this is compounded by the fact that sarah has no way of knowing whether or not robert and irene are interested in her thoughts at all. if they are, they certainly don’t show it. on most occasions that they do show intrigue, sarah has some difficulty not interpreting it as them judging or interrogating her. in other instances, she’s simply gotten frustrated and given up trying to communicate with them because she doesn’t feel like they understand or listen. irene in particular wishes she was closer with sarah; however, the two have very little in common. irene has difficulty expressing warmth toward others’ children and doesn’t exactly know how to foster a good bond with them, aside from disciplining them and following the rules she’s read about in her parenting/self-help books. her collection of these books is enormous; many are under the impression that, because of it, she fancies herself an expert. irene tends to be a bit literal and persnickety with rules. she would like to foster emotional and mental health in both her son and her stepdaughter, in addition to raising them to be upstanding citizens; however, she doesn’t quite know how to do the former and is kind of learning as she goes along. though she has difficulty expressing it, she’s fiercely protective of sarah and would like to shield her from anything that might hurt her.

linda and robert separated partly because they had very different ideas on how to raise sarah. while they both had relatively equal expectations for her, they wanted her to pursue different fields; robert sought to push her in the direction of something more conventional while linda wanted sarah to pursue her dreams in the arts—so long as they aligned with linda’s dreams, as well. however, this was just the tip of the iceberg. in reality, the arguments that eventually led to their divorce (sarah was 10 at the time) began when each parent felt that the other’s career wasn’t supporting them as much as they would have liked. linda and robert had lost the spark in their relationship over time; they simply didn’t connect with one another. the phrase “you’re not the person i married,” or a variation of it, was said often on both sides. when the environment in the williams household became too stressful to her, and robert grew too obstinate, linda decided that she was leaving; this happened after she met jeremy, who understood her in a way that she felt robert never had. the realization that linda was forming a relationship behind his back was, for robert, the straw that broke the camel’s back. i think that when it comes to the relationship between sarah’s parents, the song “moral of the story” by ashe applies pretty well. like, really well.

linda’s love language is giving and receiving gifts. she sometimes sends presents and letters to keep in touch with sarah; over the years, though, the influx of gifts has declined for reasons sarah doesn’t understand. linda is usually just too busy or too forgetful to bother; it’s often jeremy who sends gifts in her stead and apologizes on her behalf. furthermore, it’s made sarah uncomfortable how linda always seemed to expect something back whenever she gave a gift or did a favor for as long as she can remember. sarah considers herself lucky that linda sometimes finds the time to send her mail without having to be reminded. because linda can’t be there to physically provide sarah with affection, she instead appears to use gifts as substitutes. in fact, she’s almost always used material objects to convey the things she couldn’t figure out how to communicate otherwise.

part of what makes sarah feel so angry is, ironically enough, the feeling that she isn’t allowed to be angry. when she gets upset, she wants to mouth off or yell, throw things or hit someone; because all of those things will get her into trouble, and she has some difficulty handling her emotions, she has no idea what she’s supposed to do to not be upset anymore. all she feels like she can do is wait for it to go away—which is not only something that she rarely manages to do, but also something that makes things far worse in the long run.

overall, sarah has a complicated relationship with her mother. on the one hand, the two are very close with one another. linda loves sarah dearly and is immensely proud of her; in spite of all her flaws, she seems to be coming to the realization that she should try and be a better mother even if it’s from a distance, and that just because sarah isn’t physically with her anymore doesn’t make the two any less related. on the other hand, though, linda has quite a few selfish tendencies she hasn’t matured past; her love for sarah doesn’t stop her from using her as a pawn to stroke her own ego. she also isn’t afraid to lash out at her own daughter for bruising said ego, intentionally or otherwise. the only reason she initially considered doing better was because she didn’t want sarah to stop talking to her entirely, though she’s begun considering the principle of it all. it would be interesting to juxtapose linda’s selfishness with sarah’s at the beginning of the film, with the implication that linda is the way she is today because she never got what she needed in the past and/or made the conscious choice to put herself before other people—but sarah doesn’t have to be the same. in fact, throughout her arc it’s proven that she won’t be the same—not only because her journey provides her with courage and her friends provide her with support she may not have and otherwise, but because she chose actively to be a kinder person out of compassion and not because she feared repercussions.

sarah’s insistence that linda has never done anything wrong ever is almost certainly denial. logically, sarah knows that some of linda’s actions have been wrong; that doesn’t stop her, however, from scrambling for a million different ways to justify it. part of this can also be attributed to what sarah feels is an unspoken rule that forbids her from being angry, especially toward the people whom she loves and who love her most; she wants to say that linda has hurt her on several occasions, but doesn’t know how to communicate it and is afraid of setting off some sort of nightmarish consequence. as such, she settles for trying to rationalize it when no amount of explanation can make it okay.

linda is also fiercely protective of sarah and doesn’t want her falling in with the wrong crowd by any means. it does sadden her that sarah doesn’t have many friends (at least to her knowledge), and she’s always encouraging sarah to put herself out there; however, a small, wicked part of linda has wondered if it would be better if she just had sarah all to herself.

sarah has felt ever since the divorce that, to her father, she’s more of an inconvenience he has to “deal with” than his actual daughter. of course, robert doesn’t see her that way; but he doesn’t know how to communicate with her or connect with her, as much as he’d like to, which results in a wall between them. despite this, she does know that he loves her and is doing her best. as bad as it makes her feel, she explains it to herself by saying that she sometimes wishes his best was better.

i personally interpret sarah putting away linda’s pictures at the end of the film as her realizing that there’s someone else who has no power over her: her mother. granted, sarah doesn’t destroy the pictures because she still loves linda and hopes she gets better as a person. but the fact that she puts them somewhere safe can be thought of as symbolizing how she isn’t going to let linda manipulate her anymore and it isn’t her responsibility to help her get better—let alone be her personal echo chamber. sarah has decided, in my opinion, to keep a reasonable distance from linda (to the extent where “i can talk to you, but you can’t hurt me”) until she can be certain that linda has changed. in particular, sarah feels safest interacting with her mother when jeremy is present, as jeremy isn’t afraid to come to her defense and has made linda reconsider her behavior on several occasions. i also think it could be interesting to contrast maria’s fierce and unconditional love and linda’s genuine, but often self-serving and distanced love toward her own child.

sarah remembers her family being happy before things went downhill and still finds it difficult to grasp the fact that it wasn’t her fault in some way. when her family tells her that, she doesn’t think they’re telling the truth. when her classmates tell her it wasn’t her fault, she feels like they just don’t understand.

robert feels like he didn’t pay enough attention to linda’s needs back when the two were married, and he thinks that’s most likely the reason she left. to make up for what he perceives as his neglect of his ex-wife, he does his best to make irene feel like a queen.

i think of sarah and toby when i listen to “evelyn evelyn.” i’m not sure exactly why, but it would make a good comic or animation someday.

i also made picrews!

post-canon!sarah - in this one, she’s about 16. i always loved the idea of her just deciding to cut her own hair one day and her parents being shocked about it. shorter hair is also especially conducive to speedrunning the labyrinth every other week

link: https://picrew.me/image_maker/1272810

adult!sarah - my headcanon is that she was a stage actress for a while and later went on to have a film role, but eventually decided that the life of an actress wasn’t for her and settled down to become a college drama professor. once she cut her hair as a teenager, she never went back. her family was frustrated by it until she got older and they mellowed out about it because they realized there was really nothing they could do

links (in order): https://picrew.me/image_maker/457566 and https://picrew.me/image_maker/696219

adult!toby - i don’t know why, but i feel like he’d be really into alt fashion. like i think sarah would introduce him to her punk and hair metal vinyls one day and he’d just latch onto those and never let go. i also think that he didn’t leave the labyrinth unchanged, and sarah does her best to help him readjust and cope with it all; i’m tempted to also headcanon him as ND, so it’s possible that she’d be able to relate to him a lot in the future and that would make things easier for him

link: https://picrew.me/image_maker/696219

sarah and toby! i think they’d get along really well as toby was growing up, with sarah telling him these wonderful stories and playing fantastical games with him and whatnot. she’d have some of influence on his taste in music and books, too, i think, as explained above. but because of the whole “evelyn evelyn” thing i’m considering incorporating some degree of angst into their relationship when they’re adults. i do have an idea, but i’m not quite ready to spoil it yet! i’ll wait until i manage to draw At Least One Thing for it!

link: https://picrew.me/image_maker/399481

[keanuvibe]

Professor Reeves (Keanu Reeves x Reader)

A/N: Okay, here it is. The full continuation of the teaser i posted earlier this week :) I'm v excited about this okee. Thank u @keanusreefs for inspiring me, ily<3

Words: 7.0K

Warnings: Swears, Age-gap, SMUT ;), teacher/student (does that need a tag?)

Disclaimer: all characters, places, and people are of my own imagination save for Keanu :) thank you for reading <3

The bell ringing overhead signaled the end of class and the shuffle of students erupted throughout the quiet room. The mild anxiety that came with first day nerves began infecting your veins again, and you took a deep breath standing up. You gave the teacher a nod on the way out, beginning the trek to your final class of the day.

You are a freshman in college, a newbie. However, the catch is: you’re twenty-eight. You started late, leaving highschool with big aspirations didn't turn out like you’d hoped. Being into movies and film since you were a young child, you decided a career in acting was your best option to maybe, eventually, move up in the ranks and get famous. Shortly after high school graduation, you moved to New York and began starring in small plays. Each night you hoped a scout would enter the audience and give you the break you were looking for, but over the years nothing happened. During the day you worked as a bank teller, having started after running out of money. The job was great, and you ended up staying at that location for six years before it got robbed. 

You ended up moving back to your home state and with your parents at twenty-six. You were kind of a deadbeat for two years before your parents urged you to take a couple ‘fun’ classes at the local community college; mentioning how the school had a wonderful drama program. Having nothing better to do, you took out a small student loan, got a part-time job as a waitress, and enrolled at Tulip Ridge Community College focusing on Theater and Acting. You chose a few small art classes to fill the first few hours of the day, and a required English course as well, leaving your last class of the day to be Drama.

Luckily, the theater department wasn’t far from English, being that it is the class prior. You made it to the Drama room placed in a large room just off the hallway from the auditorium, greeting a hustle of students. The ages ranged, but for the most part it looked to be teens fresh from highschool. You scanned the room, greeting the over decorated space. Props from previous shows, you assumed at least, littered the painted white brick walls leaving barely any white to show. Long tables with cheap plastic school chairs sat in the middle of the room, parallel to a large prop presidential stand. On the wall behind the stand was the whiteboards with a projector screen pulled down covering the center.  You assumed that was where the teacher stood. You didn’t even know their name.

In the back of the room stood a mock carpeted stage. It was most likely the place they either used to practice plays when the auditorium was occupied or sat an audience in when they did more intimate shows with a smaller crowd, like a dine-in show. You did plenty of those with your theater company in New York. 

Picking a table that was empty, you quickly hustled to it before anyone else could and sat down in a corner seat. As a couple minutes passed, more rowdy theater kids had filled the room; greeting the others from their summer breaks. Most of the crowd seemed young, however the wonderful thing about community college is there's always going to be older people. 

“Hi, I’m June.” A high-pitched tone spoke, catching your attention. Turning your head, you noticed a lady had taken the seat next to your own. She looked older, maybe early thirties. She donned long brunette hair and was dressed as though it was the year 1984.

“Oh, uh, Hi.” You smiled back, holding your hand out to shake instinctively, “I’m (Y/N).”

“Nice to meet you, (Y/N).” She smiled wide. “Not to pry, but, I haven’t seen you at Tulip Ridge before, are you new?” June seemed like a preppy type, but very vintage.

“Oh, yeah. I’m a freshman.” You responded with a slight chuckle.

“Oh, well, welcome!” The woman responded, cheer evident in her tone. You were about to respond and ask her a few questions, however you were interrupted before you began. 

“Good afternoon class, I’m Professor Reeves.” The humble, deep voice of the teacher startled you and you quickly glanced in his direction. Eyes widening, you greeted the sight of the delicious man. He was tall, towering over the presidential podium prop he stood behind. His hair was long and disheveled framing his face perfectly. He donned a dark brown tweed jacket with a soft green button up underneath, however, and unfortunately, you couldn’t see the bottom half. 

“Welcome back, how were your breaks?” He asked, looking around the room. Students that seemed to know the man chimed back with colorful answers, prompting the man to laugh. You looked over to June who seemed engaged and intrigued by whatever the man was doing. So, is Professor Reeves the hot teacher of Tulip Ridge? What makes it even worse is he’s the Drama teacher. You’ve always had a weakness for theater boys; probably just the inner thespian in you. You had a few boyfriends back in New York, however their ego’s always tended to get the best of them and you’d have to break things off. 

“I see a few new faces in the crowd this year, let’s see,” Professor Reeves’ dark eyes scanned the class once again; eyes connecting with your own. You felt a chill run down your spine as the swarm of dormant butterflies in your tummy rushed to life. 

“What’s your name, breaktaking?” You felt your stomach drop as the teacher gestured towards you. A nervous snort escaped your throat and you felt your cheeks gain heat like a house on fire. You could perform in front of hundreds of people; yet the single attention of this one man was eating you alive.

“it’s- it’s (Y/N).” You nervously chuckled in response. The eyes of your classmates didn’t help the heat retaining in your cheeks. June gently patting your back snapped you back to reality and you looked in her direction. She gave you a reassuring nod, humoring the teacher still. 

“And what compelled you to pursue acting, (Y/N).” Your name rolling off of Professor Reeves’ tongue made the butterflies excite even more and you cleared your throat in an attempt to brush off some embarrassment. 

 “Um, well, I’m not exactly new to acting and drama. I’ve been doing this medium since I was seven. After highschool I even performed in New York for a bit, but um, just small shows.” You answered with a shrug, keeping focused on the teacher. The stares from the other students were burning into your skull, but you ignored them.

“So, what’re you doing at Tulip Ridge then?” The teacher pushed, his dark eyes gleaming into your own. He leaned forwards on the podium a little, his attention still burning at you. You sat up in your seat slightly, not really wanting to admit to a room full of strangers that you feel like a loser and deadbeat and are only here because your parents convinced you.

“Well, I-” You paused, ��I want to further my education, that’s reason enough. Plus, there’s no better place to start than community college.” Typical answer, but it hides the truth enough, you guess. Professor Reeves’ stare indicated he knew you were hiding something. You kept eye contact long enough before another student spoke up breaking the stare.

--

The abrupt bell ringing interrupted the movie that was playing on the projector screen. The class erupted as everyone began to gather their things and shuffle out for the day. Shortly after all the new and old students had been introduced, the Professor had quickly jumped into the curriculum for the semester. He went over the syllabus as well as the first project you’d be doing in the class; which is to perform a quick, no longer than three minute, scene from your movie of choice. It has to consist of at least two characters and be school appropriate, obviously. Of course you and your new table mate decided to partner up for the project with high hopes of good scores.  

Speaking of the enthusiastic woman, you and June had talked throughout class slowly learning about the other. You discovered that she is thirty-one, works part-time in a bakery and has a four year old son. She isn’t married, but her and her son’s father are on good co-parenting terms. She’s been going to Tulip Ridge for one year now, making this her final year before she moves on to a four year college. She decided to go back to school after her and her son’s father split, leaving her with half an income but a full child to feed.

“Where are you headed after this?” June asked, tossing her long hair over her shoulder and grabbing her backpack.

“Back home, I’m sure my mom will want me to do some chores for her. I’ll research a scene for us and send you a link, as well. How about you?” You smiled at the woman. Being only a couple years younger than June felt nice, as most of your class as previously mentioned is overenthusiastic teenagers.

“You have got to move out, Sugar.” June laughed with a shake of her head. “I’m going to pick up my kid from daycare and spend a few hours with him before work tonight.” You could tell the woman loved her child a lot. Her voice and demeanor always softened at the mention of him. It almost made you feel the rush to be a mother; but you’re still young.

“Trust me, I know.” You responded with a chuckle. Shortly after, June said her goodbyes and excused herself. As she exited with the main crowd, only a few stragglers remained including you. You scanned the room, greeting the sight of Professor Reeves standing by the door saying his goodbyes to the students. You scanned him up and down now, actually being able to see his bottom half.

He was attractive, there was no doubt about that. The man was goofy too, as you’d expect a Drama teacher to act. During class you asked June if she knew anything about him and she actually gave you a quick rundown. Apparently he used to be a famous Hollywood star back in the mid-eighties to nineties. He did quite a few indie films, and one or two blockbusters. He fell off the radar in the year two-thousand after his wife died; resurfacing as a teacher in your rinky-dink hometown seven years later. The catch is, nobody knows his real name; at least locally. He keeps it hidden, only going by as Professor Reeves or Mr. Reeves. The fact you’d never heard of him kind of shocked you, but it really seemed like the fame world had moved on from your teacher. Students somewhat reacted to him, if they were film buffs, but otherwise he seemed like he lived a quiet life.

Your teacher's eyesight meeting your own caused you to stop staring finally. As a hot blush covered your cheeks once again, you quickly focused back down onto your backpack acting as though you were doing things. The room now sounded mostly quiet, and the pad of the Professors shoes echoed louder to your person.

“Miss (Y/N).” The deepness of his voice gave your spine a chill. You shyly looked up, greeting your teacher. Up close he was stunning. Gorgeous dark hair framed his face and dark full eyebrows covered his fierce brown eyes. You, however, were loving his salt and pepper speckled beard. 

“Professor Reeves.” You greeted back, swallowing the intimidation. The man towered over your smaller frame, you couldn’t help but want to climb him like a tree (it’s been seven months since you last got laid. Things have gotten heated).  

“It’s always refreshing to see new students.” He gave you a small grin. “You said you’ve done shows in New York? What’re you doing back here, superstar?” The man joked. The familiar hot feeling flooded your cheeks and you released a nervous chuckle, quickly casting your eyes to your shoes.

“Well- Like I said earlier: to further my education.” You managed, gathering the courage to make eye contact again. “I could ask you the same. You were a blockbuster star.” When your eyes met, butterflies erupt in your stomach again. What was it about this man that made you so horny and shy at the same time. His eyes narrowed slightly, as though he was saying touche. 

“Well, I’d love to see your work some time.” The deep tone in his voice gave you another shiver down your spine as you kept the eye contact.

“I’d love to see yours. And, uh, then I’ll see if I have a copy somewhere. I did Phantom back in New York. Well, I was ensemble, but…” You trailed off, chuckling to cover the nervous feeling. 

“Ensemble is the backbone of theater, darling.” Professor Reeves’ hand gently tapped your arm after his comment. You felt the shock of his touch and immediately made eye contact as you did so. The man must’ve felt the same, as his eyes shot to yours as well. 

“I-I’d better get going.” You spoke so quietly, quickly shuffling past your teacher. However, you felt his hand linger as you pulled away. You felt as each individual finger dragged against your body before you were out of reach. That’s definitely going to help some tension releasing activities tonight. 

--

It’s been three weeks since the first day and college isn’t too bad, you’ve come to discover. Befriending June was a good option, as you two easily got along being similar in age. You even met her son the other day after school. Plus, your classes are simple too; only taking Art and English credits was a smart decision. Drama had quickly taken place as your favorite class, however. Acting was fun, but your Professor also had taken part in your sway on the choice.

“Alright, we’re going to be doing the quick-minute scenes today, I hope you all came prepared.” The drama teacher's voice settled the rowdy crowd of students as he walked into the room. June slunk back into the chair next to you and you glanced towards the woman. She didn’t have as much performance history as you, she’d mentioned at one of your practices that she was nervous for today. You leaned over and gave her a gentle pat on her shoulder.

“Run over the lines again, it’s gonna be great.” You smiled gently. The woman pulled out the sheet you’d been using to run lines and you saw as she began to mouth the words.

Looking back towards the front of the room, you caught your teacher's eyes. He stood up by the podium, a student clearly trying to converse with him although his eyes seemed fixated towards you. Realizing you were staring in return, he quickly turned his attention back towards the student, consciously adjusting the way he was standing. You bit the inside of your cheek, suppressing the smile that dared to take over and quickly cast your eyes towards the desk again.

The professor quickly got the class into order, quieting everybody down. He stood behind the stand, now facing everybody as they adjusted into their seats. The man shuffled a few papers around before looking back up and tucking some hair behind his ear. You sighed quietly, slinking further into your chair and crossing your legs. Your crush was only getting worse. 

“So, before I start calling names, who’d like to present first.” Professor Reeves made a point to look directly at you. You raised your brow, shaking your head ‘No’ slowly. June would die if you two went first anyways. His eyes then moved on, looking at the other groups of students before he clicked his teeth and shrugged, choosing one of the fresh-from-highschool kids. 

The kid sighed loudly, tapping his partner on the shoulder and standing up. Professor Reeves pushed the podium out of the way and to the side so the students could stand front and center.The two of them introduced themselves as Travis and Mike before jumping into it. As they started, you easily recognized the scene to be from the third Lord of The Rings installment, when Gandalf gives Pippin the speech about death. 

June’s phone sitting on your table vibrated and she quickly picked it up to avoid any more distraction. You glanced over to her, watching her read the text and her expression turn more sour with each word. Furrowing your brow, you scooted your chair closer and quietly whispered.

“What’s wrong?”

The woman didn’t answer right away, instead you could see as her eyes reread the text before she finally seemed to snap to reality.

“M-My son got into trouble at daycare- I need to go. I can’t perform our presentation today.” She seemed annoyed by this but started to collect her things. I guess it was the last class of the day anyways, and you’re sure you can convince Professor Reeves to extend your scene to tomorrow. 

“That’s okay. We’ll figure it out, go.” You gave her a reassuring nod and she smiled back. After gathering her things and waiting for the current group to finish, she stood up and quietly made her way to your teacher, asking to be excused. The man seemed to comply as she thanked him and quickly turned to leave, giving you a small wave and smile on the way out the door. You let your smile linger before a quiet sigh escaped.

Class proceeded normally. A few groups went before the Professor ended up calling your name. He clearly saw your partner leave, so what is he planning?

“(Y/N), why don’t you give your presentation?” His deep voice always had some sway over you. But you resisted, biting the inside of your cheek.

“Uh, my partner had an emergency and left.” You spoke, furrowing your brow. Your teacher nodded, acting as though it was new information in front of the class before he looked back at you.

“Well, maybe I can be your partner today. What were you going to perform?” The coy expression that covered his face said all it needed to. You felt the mock anger that covered the romantic feelings you felt made itself present and you let out a sigh before answering.

“Alright, well, we were going to perform an excerpt from ‘Moulin Rouge’, um, right before they burst into ‘Silly Love Songs’. I have a copy of our lines if you want.” As you spoke, you’d already gathered your copy of the sheet and made your way to the front. Ignoring the stares of your classmates was the best way to deal with your nerves, even though their eyes were burning into you like you were a demon and they were holy water. You were about to perform with your teacher, and that needed all of your focus currently. Handing over the sheet, your fingers brushed and an electric feeling coursed through your body starting from your fingertips. It gave a jolt to your heart, stuttering your breath for a moment. 

“Um, June was a bit scared to do the minor singing part, so I’ll be playing Christian and you’ll be Satine.” You spoke, first looking towards the Profesor then glancing across the class. A few muttered laughs came from the immature minds humoring at the gender switch. The man let out a low chuckle himself but nodded, holding up the sheet so he could read the lines. 

“Christian, I’m a courtesan. I’m paid to make men believe what they want to believe.” Your teacher began, his eyes cast between your reaction and the paper. You quickly got into character, prepared to react.

“Yes. Silly of me, to think y-you could fall in love with someone like me.” You spoke with a sigh, feigning to be sad. 

“I can’t fall in love with anyone.” The man responded with a sad chuckle, stepping closer towards your figure. You felt your heartbeat raise slightly. 

“Can’t fall in love? But a life without love… That’s terrible!” You lightly exclaimed, leaning into the character more. You and June chose the movie having seen it as young girls and loving the romance of it all. Of course you ended up doing a romantic scene with Professor Reeves.

“No!” The man reacted, “Being on the street, that’s terrible.” His tone suggested he was getting defensive just as Nicole Kidman did playing the line.

“No, love is like oxygen!” You reacted again, stepping towards the man. As you got further into the scene, your nerves began melting away. The second hand feeling that came when you did act was starting to kick in. It's been a while since you last did a show, since you left New York two years ago. 

“What?” He spoke, furrowing his brow. You started pacing towards him more.

“Love is a many-splendored thing, love lifts us up where we belong, all you need is love!” By now, you were in his face, arms spread with determination; just like you’d practiced with June. 

“Please, don’t start that again.” Professor Reeves sighed, his hand placing itself on your shoulder and lightly pushing away.

“All you need is love,” You began singing softly, leaning closer to him. 

“A girl has got to eat!” He exclaimed, taking a step away.

“All you need is love,” You sang again, a smile overtaking your face. Your teacher stepped back, turning away from you, really leaning into the character. You assumed he’s seen this move before by how well he was acting. 

“She’ll end up on the street!” He spoke again, turning to face you again. You got up close again, capturing his hand into your own, your faces positioning closer than they should be.

“All you need is love…” You sang softly to finish off your lines, eyes connecting with your teachers. You hadn't noticed the slight wrinkle around them until now, and couldn't help the endearment that rushed your body. 

“Love is just a game.” The professor didn’t sing the part like in the movie; instead he spoke it, but the emotion that line carried still was present. You were getting swept away in the intensity of the scene. His dark brown eyes stared back into your own, hinting his own feelings of lust and want. The sound of someone's chair scraping brought you back to reality and you quickly stepped away to a normal distance. Clearing your throat, you turned towards your classmates and took a quick bow before making your way back towards your table. The burning stare of your teacher's eyes into your back definitely didn’t help. 

“Good job (Y/N). I’ll go ahead and give June the credit too.” Professor Reeves spoke as soon as you sat down after the class had finished clapping. You nodded towards him, trying to catch your breath from the whole situation. You wish June were here to witness that, though. She wouldn’t believe it, and to be honest, you could barely believe it either. 

--

The library was surprisingly empty for prime studying hours, then again, it is a Friday afternoon. Most students are probably drunk right now, pregaming for the weekend, anyways. You, however, decided to study for some test in English at the library instead of going home. You didn’t really want to deal with your parents anyways. Ever since you started school, they’ve been more helicopter-y and won’t leave you alone when you’re home. They want to know everything and it’s exhausting. You honestly miss living alone. Your parents are treating you like you’re in high school again, over eleven years ago. No matter, it was nice to escape the insanity with the quiet, always warm because of the broken heater, library. 

Plus, the escapism helps with distracting your brain from a certain someone. Ever since your presentation in Drama with Professor Reeves about three and a half weeks ago, you’ve been kind of avoiding him. That happening did nothing to help your crush, in fact it only made it worse. He is so handsome and you just can’t help it. His dark, lengthy hair that he often tucked behind his ear; His dark, fierce and sultry eyes that lured you in every time you caught stares. You, without a doubt, are smitten for a man whose not only an authority-ish figure in your life, but twice your age.

The acting exercises you did in class were not helpful either. You noticed he’d minorly started favoring you to play roles. Of course the students hadn’t caught on yet because he hid his favoritism so well, but you just went along with it. Secretly, you kind of wanted to see how this would play out. It’s been nearly two months since the semester started, and the spark you seemed to have acquired hasn’t fizzled. 

“Miss (Y/N)? Not partying?” Professor Reeves spoke behind you. Jumping slightly, you sat up and turned around to look at the man. You already saw him in class today, well, avoided him in class today. This is like a waking nightmare to see him in a safe space. Hiding your feelings, you swallowed before answering. The look on his face was innocent, but you never know what feelings he could be hiding too.

“You scared me,” You commented before continuing, “And, uh, no. It’s not really my scene anymore.” You muttered with a chuckle, turning back towards the table. The echoed footsteps from your teacher indicated he was going to take a seat at the table you currently occupied. Sitting up, you glanced around the library as he did so, but came across nobody.

“Anymore? You look quite young.” He spoke, setting a few books down that he’d had in his grasp. You didn’t notice them before. 

“I’m almost thirty, I’m not young.” You commented with a dry chuckle, finally gathering the courage to look at your teacher. He gave you a laugh, prompting you to let a smile break.

“Well, I’m in my mid-fifties so what does that say about how old I am?” He rebuttaled with humor lacing his tone. You finally broke the resistant act and chuckled, looking towards him. He gave you a soft smile in return, enjoying seeing you filled with humor. The man didn’t want to admit that he also had developed some type of emotion for you as well. Since the moment you introduced yourself he knew you were going to be an issue. Not necessarily a bad thing, just a hindrance. He’s seen a lot of students come and go over the years he’s been teaching, but you’re the first one that’s captivated his eye, ever.

“Right, sorry.” You laughed, looking back towards the notes you’d been writing on. The two of you fell into a silence before your teacher spoke up.

“Hey, are you okay? It seems as though you’ve been avoiding me... If I’m overstepping as your teacher let me know-” The deep voice of your teacher has gone quiet, you knew he wanted to keep this private. 

“No- No… You’re right.” You cut him off, sighing and rubbing your temple quietly. “I, uh, I have been.” The silence of your teacher caused you to look up at him. It was kind of strange to be having such a candid conversation with this man, though he’s just like any other human on earth. 

“Well, may I ask why?” He asked quietly, almost sounding hurt from your choices. You nodded hesitantly before proceeding. Were you about to admit your feelings? Can you even do that? Is it even legal for faculty and students to date? Well, that is if you even date. 

“Ever since our... well my presentation… There's been this weird energy between us and I honestly don't know how to react.” Your voice remained quiet as you spoke and your eyes kept pointed towards the table. Though, you could feel Professor Reeves’ eyes boring into the side of your face. 

“(Y/N)...” The voice of your teacher caught your attention and you looked up. His eyes glanced around the room before he stood up in one quick motion. The towering height of the man was slightly intimidating, however he leaned over swiftly, capturing your face with both of his hands and connecting your lips. 

Fireworks. Explosions. Electricity.

These were all the words you could use to describe the way his lips melded perfectly with your own. His stubble scratched your chin and upper lip so wonderfully and his hands help your face gently. 

The man was the first to break the kiss, as you could've stayed there forever. He parted and stayed only an inch or two away from your face, however. 

“Wow,” You softly breathed, feeling your body physically relax. A slight giggle escaped your throat as you did so. The man smiled back, gleeful from the event that just occurred. 

“I've been wanting to do that since the first day.” He spoke hushedly. You captured his lips once again before quickly shoving your things into your backpack. If things were going to escalate, there was no better time. You cast your eyes up to his, staring through your lashes hinting at the lust you were feeling. 

“The drama room, now.” You rushed, standing up and slinging your bag over your shoulder. You felt your teacher's body heat behind your figure as the two of you quickly, but trying their best to remain inconspicuous, made your way across campus to the Arts building. 

Your teacher shoved open the door, his hand hooking onto your backpack and pulling you in. He swiftly shoved the door closed and locked it shut, making sure it was actually locked. You quickly rushed towards an old prop couch in the back corner of the room, tossing your bag and jacket off. You heard your teacher's footsteps quickly follow and the heat of his hands as he grabbed your arm, flipping you around and shoving you back onto the couch. You grabbed his jacket, pulling him down on top of your figure as you fell. Your bodies felt electric causing your heart to beat faster. 

His eyes glanced down at your chest gazing delightfully at your cleavage. It only gave you confidence as you tangled your fingers into his dark locks, pulling your lips together. His hands then moved and melded firm on your ass, as he didn’t want you to get away. The scratch of his beard only added pain to the pleasure, enhancing the overall experience. Your hands found their way to Professor Reeves’ jeans; slyly unbuckling his belt and with one motion undoing his button as well.  Your hand began to explore, finding his member semi hard and still tucked away behind his underwear. You gently began to rub over the cloth, prompting the man to moan quietly into your kiss.

In the meantime, the man's hands found their way to the zipper of your pants, he’d managed to unzip it entirely and then shifted his hands to unclip your bra through your top. You broke the kiss while he sat up slightly and pulled the apparel off, freeing your legs and top, leaving you in panties and a bra. 

“Jesus, you are… breathtaking.” He muttered, eyes scanning your figure up and down. You felt the self-conscious feelings start to fill your brain and subconsciously hid your figure. Professor Reeves’ large hands grasped your arm, however, and kept you from hiding your gorgeous body.

The man’s mouth was swift to latch onto the swell of your breast, intending to mark the flesh. His fingers gently latched onto your bra, exposing your breast more. He gently kissed down the skin before his tongue swirled your nipple, occasionally flicking it with the muscle. The sensation only fueled your fire down south, and you quickly gathered the courage to gently slide your hands underneath his underwear. Your hand first met the feeling of pubes as you wrapped your hand around the base of his cock, beginning to pump slowly. 

Professor Reeves carefully maneuvered his shirt off his body, tossing it somewhere in the classroom. You admired his body; he was slightly toned on his chest, however his shoulders and arms were more defined. He donned a small patch of chest hair, and a dark happy trail that led to a nice patch of dark pubic hair. His hair was messy, and he combed his fingers through, desperate to remove the strands from his eyes. 

The man now stood up on his knees, quickly shucking off his pants and underwear leaving him completely nude. After that, You took the moment to ogle him and come to the reality that you're about to sleep with your teacher. This is a good idea, yeah? 

Professor Reeves linked his fingers into the sides of your panties, gliding them down and off your legs all while staring at you through his lashes and fallen hair. Afterwards, his fingers gently made their way to your heat, fingers toying and exploring, eyes gazing you up and down. He bit his lip, as a single digit ran up your slit, hitting your clit at the end of it’s journey. You squirmed and gasped at the sudden sensation, earning a whisper of praise from your teacher. He redid the motion, this time with two fingers. You reacted the same, a squeal and squirm, gripping your hand onto his thigh. 

“Darling, so wet for me already.” He commented, voice heavy. “How would you feel I…” He trailed off, slinking down and scooting back until his head came level with your stomach. With the last word escaping his lips, he kissed around your navel, working his way further and further down until a light kiss peppered your clit. Your hands flew to the man's head immediately tangling themselves within his long hair. He took this as an eager invitation, and began to suck your clit with excitement. One of his free hands worked its way up and began to twist your nipple gently. The sensitivity of your body caused you to moan and tighten your grip on the man's hair. His free hand left your nipple and moved down to your vagina. He continued to lick and flick your clit with his tongue as he slowly inserted a single digit. You tightened around his finger, enjoying the feeling of it all as he began to finger you carefully. 

“Oh, Professor,” A breathy moan left your lips. The man’s reaction was to finger you faster while he sucked your clit harder. His beard rubbing against your inner thigh felt so wonderful, and you nearly suffocated the man between your legs. The teacher began to move his fingers skillfully. He kept tapping your g-spot as he did so, earning even louder cries of pleasure from you. He could tell you were getting close, as you kept tightening around his fingers and were basically giving him a head massage. He gently pulled them out, and gave one last sweet kiss to your clit before sitting up on his knees again. His dick was now fully hard and he nonchalantly touched himself, scooting closer to your position. 

You sat up a little, reaching out to grab his member. Your hand replaced his and you switched positions once again, landing you on top. You moved your hair from your face and leaned your head down so your lips were just above his cock. You gently licked the tip, earning a shudder from the teacher. One of your hands gently rubbed your clit while the other held you up as you sucked the bass player off. Your tongue swirled around his member and you bobbed your head, making sure to keep your mouth as airtight as possible. He kept releasing delightful moans, occasionally letting his hand hold your head or fix your hair. He even used it to guide your bobs, keeping you on beat.

“Oh, love,” The man breathed. You cast your gaze up to his face, making sure to stay within rhythm. His  eyes were turned dark from lust as he watched your pretty mouth circle his cock. You then stopped playing with yourself and used that hand to rub him while sucking. His moans only increased and became more frequent with each nod. You finally popped off, finishing with a few kisses around his navel. You wiped the corners of your mouth with a slight grin, sitting back on your knees. The man was only harder now, periodically causing his member to twitch from need. You lazily jerked him with one of your hands as you straddled his lap again, placing you into the cowgirl position. You lined yourself up with him, your entrance just barely touching his tip. 

Professor Reeves gently placed his hands onto your hips, guiding you down onto his cock. You instantly moaned; his hard member filled you so perfectly as you sat down on him, giving you the warm feeling deep in your stomach. The man’s hand stayed firm on your hips as he began to help you bounce up and down on his dick. He even began to thrust up, only resulting in his member going deeper and harder in you.

Each ram seemed to make his hard cock find your g-spot perfectly. Your stomach kept twisting with every thrust, getting closer and closer to your orgasm. The teacher kept averting his gaze between your face and breasts while you fucked, enjoying the bounce of your figure. When you were able to, you would look into his eyes showing you how much you were enjoying him. 

Professor Reeves surprised you by wrapping his arms tightly around your bum, trapping his cock in your pussy as he lifted and laid you on your back again. He then began to thrust more rapid than you'd ever been handled before. Slaps of sweaty skin echoed around the room but you didn’t care at all in the throes of pleasure. You moaned loudly, the Professor as well, only fueling both of your satisfaction. One of his hands found its way to your clit and he began to rub with his thumb. Swirling sensations began to fill your tummy, prompting louder moans. The deep warm feeling before orgasm began to fill each of your limbs.

“Oh, baby, I’m going to cum.” You moaned, opening your eyes long enough to see your teacher's reaction. 

“Darling, cum for me.” He raised his eyebrows in bliss, immediately rubbing your clit faster and harder. In response you tightened around his cock as he thrust, causing the man to close his eyes in pleasure. The pressure was building fast and before you knew it, an orgasm overtook your entire body. You wrapped your legs around the man's back, trapping him deep within you. He let out a pleasure filled gasp as his thrusts became staggard. You could feel his cock throbbing in you as he collapsed and lay with his head snug in your neck. You both lay still, but breathed heavily trying to recover from the incredible orgasm you both just experienced.

Professor Reeves slowly sat up and pulled himself out of you, wincing from how sensitive he was. You felt his hot cum slowly drip out of your pussy, but you didn’t care. The man groaned as he laid down next to you, now both of you laying on the couch, you tucked into his side.

“That was everything I imagined it to be.” The Professor commented after a few moments of silence. You couldn’t help but let a giggle escape as you turned on your side to face the dark haired man.

“I don't even know your name, Professor. You’d think I would've figured it out by now…” You trailed off, studying the man’s face. His eyes caught yours and he let out a short chuckle. 

“I keep it hidden… for reasons.” He trailed off, mindlessly playing with a section of your hair. 

“June told me you used to be a Hollywood actor. I never did a google deep dive to respect your past and, well, you. I wanted to ask you about it instead.” You cast your eyes towards his chest and mindlessly drew shapes with your fingers. 

“It’s Keanu.” His voice was quiet, scanning your face for a reaction. You gave him a soft grin, looking up to meet his gaze.

“That’s a beautiful name.” You spoke in a whisper. He kissed the top of your head as a response, holding your figure tighter. It felt nice to be held by someone again. Keanu was the perfect man for that. Ever since the first day of class he’s made you feel safe. Most encounters with men haven't been pleasant, especially as a female actress. 

“So, when are you going to show me the tapes of your shows?” Your teacher's deep voice gave you goosebumps, and you let out a short chuckle, sitting up and reaching for your bra. In the odd chance anyone was the show up, you wanted to be dressed. 

“When you show me your movies.” You responded cheekily, eyes turning to give the man a wink. He let out a laugh as his large hand landed on your still exposed back, rubbing gently and avoiding your bra straps.

“I remember a certain lady telling me she started in and has a copy of Phantom, and it was mine.” He smirked, sitting up as well and pulling his clothing back on. You shook your head, laughter leaving your lips. 

“How about this, over the course of the semester we…” You paused, eyeing the tall man up and down, “Keep whatever this is going on.” You paused for effect, “And once in a while we’ll watch one of our shows. Deal?” It appeared as though Keanu was thinking for a few moments before he answered.

“Deal.”

[jimlingss]

The President’s Son [Finale]

Chapter 19 - Chapter 20 [Finale]

➜ Words: 4.4k

➜ Genres: 100% Fluff, Slice of Life, Bodyguard!AU

➜ Summary: Kim Taehyung is the President’s son, mischievous and playful, and infamous for being a troublemaker. When everyone’s given up, they call for you to be his personal guard. There’s no other choice when your dad’s assigned you to it and surprisingly Taehyung doesn’t mind either. Maybe because you happened to grow up with that brat.

He can’t be any happier.   He can’t feel any more content.   “This abstract piece is called ‘companion’, created by the student Kim Taehyung. At first glance, it certainly appears overwhelming and almost..sad. But upon analyzing, many of the dull colours come together brightly and the shadows in the piece aren’t unwelcoming. It’s a very warm painting indeed. Well done…”    It’s a sight to behold — a dark-haired college student standing right next to his own exhibit, his art in a golden frame displayed beside him on the wall as his professor makes rounds with different groups of people to explain each piece. His own artwork is small, modest, pushed at the back of the gallery, but he’s still beaming with pride, gloating in the praise.   People stand around to stare, entering the back space and naturally drawn into his painting. No longer do people look at him. No longer do his peers gawk at him — Kim Taehyung — running from a horde of suited men that are hot on his tail and who scream his name. He doesn’t provoke attention from who he is, or rather who his father is. Their eyes don’t scrutinize him.    They’re pinpointed to what he’s created. They are absorbed into his art, into what he’s done for himself.   He feels free like this, standing here in the background, watching others instead of them watching him.   The man runs his hand through the strands of his hair, causing his fitted, white shirt to pull from his dress pants, having been tucked in. His clothes are normal, hair combed regularly to cover his forehead, presentation of himself absolutely ordinary — never once giving hints that he’s the wealthy son of a world leader. He doesn’t have brand name clothing, an overly polished appearance, shiny cars or luxurious watches to his name.   Just his painting, you, and himself.   And that’s enough for Taehyung.   “Are you sad?”   “Why would I be?”   Taehyung turns to smile at you. It’s startling to see him with black hair — it reminds you way too much of when he grew up with you all those years ago. But it’s not bad. Not at all. Quite the contrary.   He had decided a few weeks ago it was time for a change, so you helped him dye his hair back to its natural dark colour. You wonder what his hairdresser would say, or how loud she’d shriek if she saw the poorly done job. But in your opinion, you think you did a good job. It looks nice.   “Your dad couldn’t make it.”   “Nah.” Taehyung swats his hand lifelessly. “It’s fine. You’re here, right? And Jin, Jungkook, and Jimin stopped by to see too. I’d rather not have hundreds of bodyguards here anyways. Those three were enough chaos. Almost got me kicked out of here too.” Laughter bubbles up his throat.   You smile, shifting to stare, head quirking to the side. It’s a kind of art that you’re beginning to admire despite still understanding very little. It’s pleasant on the eyes and you get a sense of bliss from looking at it.   “It’s beautiful, Taehyung.”   “I know.” The man grins before glancing at you and his eyes stay. “Thanks for coming. I know you were off-duty today, so….”   “Of course I’d come,” you tease. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”   “Get over here.” There’s a humongous smile plastered on his stupid face and his arms extend, hands squeezing the air.   Your smile immediately falls, expression glazing over to be blank again. “What did I say about PDA?”   “I don’t care. Just come here.”   There’s an extended moment of silence. Then, you sigh and comply with his will, taking one small step to the side. Immediately, Taehyung engulfs you in his arms, almost lifting you into the air. He giggles, nuzzling and squeezing you tight. It’s as unbearable as it is cute.   There are times Taehyung’s overwhelmingly cheesy and teasing, trying to get under your skin or vying for a reaction, yearning for a kind of attention he receives from nowhere else, much like how he was when he was a kid. But there are also times he does those things, yet he’s sincere, genuine, his innocent self. Times when he’s passionate, ambitious, starry-eyed.   And you love all parts of it.    All parts of him.   Taehyung finally puts you down and he reaches down to hold your hand securely, intertwining his fingers with yours. “I’m surprised you managed to convince your dad and my dad that you didn’t need a bodyguard today.”   “I have my ways. I can be very persuasive, you know.” He winks with another laugh. “They knew you were going to come anyways, so in case anything happened you’d be here. But….I have a feeling that a bodyguard won’t be necessary anymore.”   “Really?”   Taehyung shrugs. “Maybe when I’m around the Blue House, but I’m not really causing trouble anymore. I’m not running away or making headlines and it’s not like I’m a target…..there’s no reason for me to be under constant surveillance anymore.”   It means a lot — he might finally have the freedom he wishes for, you might be assigned elsewhere, and that someday with Taehyung might be soon.   “That’s….good news.”   “Isn’t it?” Taehyung squeezes your hand. There’s a pause, another group passing by. He hums a note. “Hey, dumbo.”   “Yes?”   “Will you stand here and wait for me? I really need to go to the bathroom. I’ve been holding it in for like an hour now and I drank a whole water bottle cause I was so nervous and I’m kind of dying here…”   “Go, you dork.” You grin and he laughs, dashing down the hall like an absolute clown.   Two minutes pass with you admiring the art around and the gallery itself. It’s rather white, the walls painted a pearly eggshell shade, and the soft lights come down from the ceiling, putting each piece under its own spotlight. It’s beautiful, and you’re beyond proud of Taehyung for making it here. It’s an amazing feat and you realize his potential in pursuing an art career…   Eventually, your marveling is interrupted by a woman approaching.   She’s dressed in a black, posh dress, holding a brochure that was given out at the entrance near the gift shop. She smiles and calls out, “Y/N!”   “Oh, Mrs. Kim.” You meet her halfway. “How are you?”   “Good, good. You?” There’s a nod and you reply with the same answer.    The older woman takes the opportunity to look around, in awe as much as you are, and she approaches Taehyung’s art piece slowly. Her eyes flicker all over, taking the time to soak it all in.   “Taehyung’s in the washroom.” You hitch a thumb over your shoulder. “Should I go get him?”   “No, no, it’s fine. He’ll come back eventually. My goodness....” She’s breathless, more focused on the art in front of her. Taehyung’s stepmom glances at you. “He’s amazing, isn’t he? I didn’t know he was so talented. I should’ve made his dad come to see. The fact that he made it here is already…”   “Incredible.”   “Yes, incredible.” She smiles, finally finding the right word for it and she takes a long moment to gaze at it. “We should really put this up in the Blue House, shouldn’t we? I mean it’s so beautiful. It would look great in the red room.”   “I think that’d be a great idea,” you agree with your own smile.   “He couldn’t have done it without you,” she says suddenly and out of nowhere. You don’t know what she means. It’s not like you were the one who picked up the brush, chose the paints, and touched the canvas. You didn’t even help by providing advice or giving your opinion — Taehyung didn’t even let you look at it until it was finished.   But his stepmother reads your confusion and smiles gently, explaining, “I really don’t think he would’ve been able to depict this feeling without you. It’s called companion, right?” She glances at the name tag, the tiny slip of paper next to the artwork.   She murmurs, “Taehyung’s been a lot...happier with you here. I don’t even know how to thank you.”   “You don’t,” you tell her. “I’m happy to be here too.”   The woman smiles, her lipstick stained mouth pulled by the corner and she turns back. “He’s lucky to have someone like you,” she says despite how you feel like the lucky one. “He’s certainly not the same person he was a year ago…”   “What are you doing here?”   “Oh, Taehyung, honey.” His stepmother comes up to him in spite of his disgusted expression at the term of endearment. “I was just passing by, thought I’d drop in to see the exhibit.”   “....cool.” He’s nonchalant and you’re taken aback at how he’s not as hostile as before. “Thanks, I guess.”   “It’s my pleasure.”   “Well, what do you think about it?”   “It’s very beautiful.” She grins. “I was thinking about putting it in the red room after it was done being displayed here.”   “Really?”   “Yes. How much are you selling for?”   “Uh….three thousand,” he throws out the first random number he thinks of.   The posh woman nods her head, her mouth slightly pouted before it tugs into yet another reserved smile. “It’s a done deal then.”   “Wait.” Taehyung’s brows are practically lifted into his hairline. “Seriously?”   She holds back laughter. “Seriously.”   In one instant, he’s become three thousand dollars richer. Taehyung instantaneously spins around towards you with a humongous grin. You know that glimmer in his eye — he’s ready to sweep you off your feet again. And the excitement is infectious.   It’s his first sale, and a big one on that.   You muse how many plans he has in store, and you’re happy to be with him every step of the way.    It’s only just begun.

The event is held in the luxurious hall near the back of the Blue House, wide space filled with polite chatter and masked smiles that don’t crack when they’re far too practiced. Each person displays a surface level perfection, mute laughter filled with small talk as glasses of champagne are passed around, waiters and waitresses weaving in and out of groups of people.   But then it’s broken with obnoxious laughter coming from the corner.   In the midst of the bustle, you’re holding your palm against your mouth, trying to muffle your own giggling sounds. Jimin’s in a similar state, teeth sinking into his bottom lip to prevent more people from looking over.    Jungkook rolls his eyes, but his grin is still spreading into his face. “God, can you not try to make such shitty jokes? It really makes you uncool and this event’s supposed to be for you.”   “Aw, lighten up, Kook.” Jin grins. “It’s not every day we get to drink champagne in my honour.”   It’s the first time you don’t have to keep yourself alert. Your arms aren’t behind your back. You’re not standing straight and looking forward with an impassive expression. There’s no need to pretend you’re a stone statue, or that you’re part of the wallpaper or decoration.    It’s freeing to actually be part of the crowd, to be invited and not blurred in the background to observe others.    “Yeah, but it’s every day that I have to hear you try bad jokes. Should’ve never given you that joke book.”   “Please. I think I’ve discovered a great skill in comedy.” He motions to him with his flute of bubbling champagne. “When it’s your turn to get a promotion, I’ll let you make the rules.”   “That’s a done deal. But it might take a while.”   “Okay, but what does that badge and certificate even mean, Jin?” you pipe up and point out, asking the question everyone’s been meaning to ask. “What does the promotion exactly entail?”   “Well, it’s a pay raise...and now I got bigger teams to manage, more of them too, chickpea.”   “So we’re gonna see you less in the field?” Jimin inquires.    “I mean, I’ll still be around. But maybe less.”   Taehyung grins. “You’re going for Y/N’s dad’s job, huh?”   “Maybe.” Seokjin shrugs playfully despite you knowing that it’s what your dad already intends.   Seokjin is the groomed successor and a good one at that. The event was held to congratulate him and solely him after all. After so many years of working hard, he deserves every bit of recognition. Everyone had to admit it, even both Jungkook and Taehyung who were a bit petty in their jealousy.   Sooner or later, Jin will take your dad’s job when the old man retires and Jungkook will be promoted to Seokjin’s current position. As for Jimin, you’re sure he’ll climb the ladder too, find a place especially made for me — he has the best temperament of all of you and he’s the most pleasant. You’re not worried about any of them. You’re excited for their prospects.   All of them continue to banter and bicker with one another, disregarding the strange looks from people eavesdropping, and nearly causing your temples to start throbbing…   But there’s no place you’d rather be than surrounded by your friends.   //   “You’re feeling okay, right?” you ask, peeking at your partner. “I don’t want to have to carry you on my back if you get drunk again.”   “I’m fine,” he nags back at you before chuckling. “And I promise I'll drag my own feet back. I’d rather break your back in other ways.”   You lightly scoff, continuing to walk side by side with him down the path.   There was finally a moment of privacy that you stole away in the whole gathering. It’s been busy lately in Taehyung preparations for the gallery and you being part of the team to set up Seokjin’s party. Not much time has been spared with one another.   “Hey, I heard your dad wanted to run again. My dad told me. Apparently the campaign manager has real high hopes this time he’s gonna be president again.”   “Yeah….I know.” Taehyung sighs, eyes flickering up to stare at the clouds passing. “Is it….is it bad I hope he doesn’t win?”   “No. It’s not bad.”   He smiles gently, finally having someone who understands him to the degree that he wants them to. He doesn’t need to just think by himself anymore. He has someone to listen. “I’m just tired of all this.”   “I know.” You squeeze his hand and you both come to a standstill together.   “There’s something I have told you yet.”   “What is it?”   “I’m really going to drop my poli sci major,” Taehyung tells you and shrugs. “Apparently my stepmom finally convinced my dad. She must’ve really liked my painting cause she went home and gave him an earful about letting me do whatever I want.”   “Really? That’s...great.”   “Yeah, I know. She’s not so bad, huh?”   “Yeah, she really isn’t.” It’s what you’ve been trying to tell him for a long time now and Taehyung coming to the realization makes you even happier.   “My dad and I are going fishing soon. I...invited her to come this time.”   “That’s great, Taehyung.” You mean it genuinely too. And Taehyung nods, comforted that his difficult decision is the right one.   “And there’s something else I’ve been thinking about. Remember when I asked you to come with me? If I were to leave abroad? I was thinking...soon. Like in six months. I really want to go. Finish my degree there and then continue in an art school.”   It takes a moment for you to choose your words carefully, but you try to stay as honest as possible. “I...think you should.”   Kim Taehyung swallows hard. He hesitates. And he musters the courage inside of himself.   “Will you come with me?”   You’ve known this boy at eight years old. He was a tornado. A storm. The seven year old had rounded cheeks pinched red, cute eyes and a playful smile. And he wasn’t respectful. He never stayed quiet. He wasn’t well-mannered in the least bit. Taehyung is naturally a troublemaker, a troublemaker who flourished in misbehaving and trickery. He’s a handful and you were forced to babysit and watch over him. He was your responsibility, someone you had to protect since the beginning. And he caused you a lot of your childhood gripes and headaches.   But you returned to find out how much you missed him. It seemed like he had grown up in an instant, right before your eyes. There was someone deeper in front of you, someone that wasn’t a chore or purposely a nuisance, someone that wasn’t a child who teased you anymore.    While he’s still a mischievous adult, he’s become attractive. Captivating.   Even if it’s hard to articulate and say it out loud. He knows your shortcomings, knows your emotions, shoulders your burdens. And Taehyung knows he’s become someone who you cherish and hold dear to you.   “I never thought you’d ask.”   //   It’s less awkward than all the times before.   It seems like the more visits you make, the less tense the space becomes. Instead, it’s homey and it’s quickly becoming a place you can go to if you need.   “What are these?” His hands dig inside the sparkly gift back until he’s holding balls of fabric in his hands with a disapproving grimace.    “They’re socks.” You clear your throat. “I- uh…..noticed the pairs that you wear have a lot of holes in them. They were on sale so I got them for you. I should’ve probably gotten something better, but—”   “No….no, I needed something like this.” Your father’s eyes flicker up to look at you. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”   “Oh. I’m glad.” You fiddle with your fingers that are inside your lap before taking a deep breath like how Taehyung taught you. “If you ever need to buy any more then I can.”   The old man nods and tries them on. He wiggles his toes to test the stretch and it makes you smile, relieved that it fits perfectly on him. After a minute, he rolls them off and while preoccupied, casually asks, “Are you really going with that boy?”   There’s a beat of silence.   You don’t know where he heard it from, especially considering it’s not official and no announcements have been made, but you don’t ask. “Yeah, I think I am…”   “Stay safe,” he says and while it’s simple, you know it means a lot.   Your father never speaks without thinking carefully, always deliberately choosing his words — you recognize it now, how his little statement means a whole lot more.    The weight of his words this time are always heavy, carrying the load of his worries and still giving into the claim of your freedom. You wonder how hard it was for him to let you go at age thirteen, what drove him to that decision, one that you had resented him for which made it harder. You wonder what he thought when you decided not to return, to stay where you were and continue a life there….   Now you’re leaving again, but—   “I’ll come back. Eventually. And I'll make sure to call too as much as possible.”   The corner of your father’s mouth subtly pulls. “I'll be here if you ever need me.”   You want to tell him to keep his fridge full, to eat well, to make sure not to work too much, and to stay warm during cold winters — but he already knows these things, he knows what you want to convey through the small gift, by coming here today, by showing up and making time for him.   For a long moment, you look at your dad. You trace his diminishing backside with your eyes as his feet pad away into his quaint bedroom, putting away his new pairs of socks in the creaky wardrobe. You’re glad to see him so well. A year ago, you were worried about the condition he was in. But he made a home for himself that suits him well, quiet and small, cozy and comfortable. He’s alive, and healthy enough to yell at scared newbies.    There was no reason to worry.   He returns, hand gripping along the door frame. Your father coughs and looks away. “If...you ever need a job, you can always come work for me again.”   “Okay.” You smile at him. “Thanks, dad.”   It was hard to come back, to make the decision, to actually act upon it. But you’re glad you did it.   Even if there was nothing to be concerned about, you’re thankful you stepped foot down into this city again, that you came knocking on his door. There’s no regret whatsoever. 

The bike is a baby blue, a shade meant to welcome newborns and decorate nurseries from ceiling to floorings. It’s a soft and pale hue, pastel, and easy on the eyes. It comforts you, reminding of morning skies just before dawn breaks or calm oceans when the sun isn’t blinding. And somehow, the colour has become associated with him now.    When you think of Taehyung, you think of baby blue.   “I’m not gonna lie,” he says out loud. “I’m gonna miss this.”   The paved path is smooth, grounds endless and the scent of grass constantly maintained and cut fills your senses. Once Taehyung builds enough momentum and stops pedalling, letting the built speed push him forward, the metal chains on the wheels clink — it’s the only noise you perceive as the two of you move farther away from the house.   “You know we can always get a bike over there, right?” Your hands are placed on his waist, settled in the backseat as he continues to pedal. “We can rent one or buy one. It’s actually a better method of transportation.”   Taehyung glances behind him for a brief second. “We can get one of those tandem bicycles so I don’t have to drag you around.”   “If you want.”   “Kidding.” He laughs, the sound cheerful and hearty. “I like it when you hug me, keeps me warm.”   You scoff lightly, finding his flirting too cheesy. But you give in anyhow instead of drawing away, moving to lean your head on his broad backside and pull him a little closer. It still amazes you that warmth always seems to radiate off of him.   “Taehyung?”   “Hmm?”   “I’m happy,” you tell him as if it’s a secret that’s been kept hidden for a while now.   It’s hard to pinpoint your emotions, even now after you’ve been working towards expressing yourself more verbally. But right now, you’re so sure of it. In this moment, you are entirely content and fulfilled.   You’re not sure how long it’ll last when happiness is so fleeting, but you hang onto the emotion blooming inside your chest with a tight grip. Your relationship with your dad is not only salvageable, but in better condition than you ever imagined it to be. You’ve gained friends here without even knowing, people you cherish and adore, and who will still be here waiting when you return.    And Taehyung’s right beside you.    There’s nothing missing from your life anymore.   “Me too.” The man smiles softly to himself. “How could I not be? I’m with the person I fell in love at first sight with. Well technically second sight.”   “What?”   “When I met you the second time. You know….when you came back and basically saved my life? You remember, right?”   “Yeah.” You laugh quietly, recalling how you didn’t even know it was him — just some reckless kid on a bike and getting on the road without looking both ways. He almost got hit by a car and you sigh at the memory. You remember how hopeless he was and still is. “Of course I do.”   “No offense, when I met you as a kid, I don't think I thought anything of you. I barely remember. But I bet I thought that you were easy to tease...and that you were weird. You literally didn’t smile or laugh or even move that much,” he continues on his tangent after laughing, now endeared by the memories of you as a child, “But the second time, damn. I remember being so star-struck. You were so sexy, still are, by the way. But I swore my guardian angel swooped down to save my life.”   You’re not impressed. “You’re saying you liked me from the start?”   “Sort of,” Taehyung admits.   Though somewhere along the way, the infatuation deepened and flowered into what it is now.   “I’m...flattered.”   “You should be. I don’t always fall in love with beautiful girls.”   You scoff lightly, though the infectious smile proves you’re not solely rolling your eyes at his grease. Taehyung seems to be in a nostalgic and reminiscent mood when he suddenly asks—   “Hey, remember when I asked you to ride off into the sunset with me?”   He continues, “We could be whoever we wanted to be, go wherever we wanted to go. It’s really happening, huh?”   “I guess.” You never thought about it that way — starting fresh and all. “But we still have our names and our social security number. So it’s not like we’re really becoming whoever we want—”   “It’s similar enough,” he interjects. “Don’t ruin it by being so literal.”   “Okay, fine.” You smile, eyes fluttering shut as the breeze caresses against your cheeks and you mold yourself against his backside. “Whatever you want.”   “I only want you,” he counters back, not without spite and only with sweetness.   “Well, you have me.”   Taehyung laughs and it draws from his chest, bubbling all the way out. “I would turn around to kiss you right now, but I’d crash and I’m not sure you’d be happy with that…”   His dark-hair whisks in the wind, oversized white shirt billowing in front of him. He savours the way your arms are wrapped around his abdomen. The girl he loves is actually here and the mere fact that you feel the same way has his stomach fluttering, erupting into butterflies.   For all the hardships that comes with being the President’s son, and for wishing so desperately for a sense of normalcy, if he was never placed in this position, he doubts he would have this opportunity.   Taehyung realizes he would do it over and over again. You made it worth every second.   He turns around, smiling as he tells you, “I still mean it — I wouldn’t mind going anywhere with you.”   As long as you’re together, nothing else matters. Kim Taehyung might be a handful — mischievous — a troublemaker. But the same reasons of why he gives you a headache are the same as why he’s so endearing to you.   While a chapter has closed in your life, a new future together awaits.

[vapcrwaves]

━♡ guess the 24 YEAR OLD JULY baby just arrived to dallyeog! it makes sense, because AOKI IMOJEN is just as BLAZING as the month of JULY. wait, why do they remind me of HIRAI MOMO? beyond that, they seemed SELF-RELIANT & BUOYANT upon first glance. i heard someone say they’re sort of INSURGENT & RECKLESS though. i hope they get acquainted here in COMPLEX # 3 / APARTMENT # 2 / FLOOR # 2 ; they seem to have a lot going on with HER job as TATTOO ARTIST / BASSIST. 

bonjour , y’all !! my name’s jade ( she/her , twenty-one , gmt+8 ) !! and i’m super excited to meet and write with everyone !! this is my spunky kid , imojen , and i hope you’ll come to enjoy her as much as i did writing everything about her :D if you wanna plot , do not fret because i’ll be dropping in everyone’s IMs hehe , but if you prefer to plot over at discord , don’t hesitate to tell me !! <3 

*   𝖕𝖗𝖔𝖑𝖔𝖌𝖚𝖊   ╱  ʙᴀꜱɪᴄꜱ   .

name  :  aoki imojen  nicknames  :  yoki , jen . age  :  twenty - four . birthday  :  july 27 , 1996 . zodiac  :  leo sun , aquarius moon , sagittarius rising . place of birth  :  tokyo , japan . currently living  :  seoul , south korea . occupation  :  tattoo artist , bassist . pronouns  :  she / her . orientation  :  bisexual biromantic . ethnicity  :  japanese .  spoken languages  :   japanese , korean , english .  character insp.  :  kat stratford from 10 things i hate about you , bridget vreeland from sisterhood of traveling pants , effy stonem from skins uk , young carol rhodes from gossip girl tv series , rhonda smith , mia’s backstory from if i stay . label  /  tropes  :  hoyden , icarian , insurgent , reveller , the rebellious spirit . pinterest  :  here .  aesthetics  :   scared of commitment , but has 7 tattoos. a habit of endlessly lighting a lighter. platform boots to boost your height. but then again, sneakers for comfort while running from the cops. forgetting to discard empty cigarette packets from your bomber jacket. spilling your fifth espresso onto your drawings and designs , maybe it’s time to sleep. a frightening look on your face which millennials like to call a resting bitch face. the heat ruining your collection of leather jackets. finding comfort in your friends who seem to understand your mood swings. having a pet cat who’s as feisty as you. spontaneous adventures live inside your head and your friends fall victim to those ideas. liking the rays of the sun more than the moon despite being a night owl. oversleeps anyway. trimming your bangs yourself because you couldn’t be bothered to go to the salon. overcooking your sunny side up eggs. sleeping to forget problems. drinking to forget problems. epitome of a ride or die. 

*  𝖋𝖎𝖗𝖘𝖙 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗    ╱  ᴘᴀꜱᴛ   .

aoki imojen was born to understand what it was to live a life with no structure. her father was part of a rising band in the 90s, toured all over small venues in japan that they slowly rose to a known local name, and imojen has seen all the chaos unfold from backstage in the arms of her mom. however, slowly transitioning into the year of 2000s, the economy was still struggling from the lost decade and the income from touring never sufficed for a growing family. imojen’s father was forced to leave the music scene with the help of her mother’s influence: “it’s time to be serious”; and work multiple jobs in order to fully provide for his first child and the another growing one inside his wife’s womb. 

growing up, imojen’s no stranger to music and her father loved to introduce rock music and bands to imojen’s upbringing. she adored b’z and the gazette, and it leaves no doubt that imojen’s father had been her greatest influence in life. as she grew older, not only did they share identical music preferences and influences, but imojen’s learned to play various instruments— the bass being her favorite. imojen’s also stemmed from that infamous reckless behavior his father’s known for back in the day, and when the teenage years came, so did the impetuous reputation begin. 

imojen and her mother aren’t exactly as close as she was with her father. in fact, their relationship was a toe out of the civil line. it got worse when imojen started to focus on the band she created with friends instead of school and late night practices turned to never returning home for a few days and having the audacity to blatantly lie when asked where she was when asked. it’s hard not to blame her mother when she assumed things for the worst. imojen’s gone quite defiant especially when she discovered that her and her father’s relationship had began to run askew. imojen blames her mother’s interference with her father’s music career as much as her father did, she loved him so much that she was completely blindsided to always take his side. and when the divorce papers came and went, imojen chose her father as she always would. 

her father got a job as a musician locally and eventually overseas, however, money didn’t come by so fast and easy initially. instead of going to university, imojen invested in learning the arts in tattoo design and worked as a tattoo artist to help with the bills. the pair finally thought to settle in korea when imojen’s father got a permanent job. and at this time, imojen has decided to try pursue a career as a musician as well, hoping that the thrill in her early band days are still well stored in her system. 

*  𝖘𝖊𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖉 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗    ╱  ᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛ   .

imojen can never be satisfied of living in the same area for so long, or at least under the roof with the watchful eye of her father. work’s payed well and imojen decided to move out and get an apartment of her own. hence, she found dallyeog, parties almost every single day, drags everyone into spontaneous adventures, comes home terribly drunk and wakes up with a huge hangover—well, still pretty normal. aside from the norm, imojen working at the tattoo parlor and taking gigs at bars as a bassist, imojen’s investing in writing music as well. she hopes one day to finally finish at least one song she’s been procrastinating for far too long and convince her father to make them a rock duo instead, but a band of her own would fantastic too.  

*  𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗    ╱  ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ   .

imojen looks quite mean at first glance, and it doesn’t help that she’s indifferent towards anyone who isn’t part of already her friend. she doesn’t hate, hate is such a strong word, she simply doesn’t have the attention span for people that don’t interest her or she doesn’t know fully well to enjoy a conversation with.

honestly has the gina linetti energy “how was i supposed to know there’d be consequences for my actions” as she literally does anything she wants before her brain can even weigh the pros and cons to it.

imojen enjoys taking risks despite the relaxed attitude and seemingly nonchalant view in life. it might be a surprise to learn that she’s quite ambitious, but underneath, she does aim for the highs (both meanings) in life, except there isn’t exactly a time frame for those and would much rather pursue them steadily. 

everyone can depend on imojen to have a good time, or if someone needed a friend to vent to, she can surprisingly be all ears, but never follow her words of advice. she does mean well, it’s just that she doesn’t know what she’s saying half the time and is quite reckless,, like ask her to pick between two choices and she’ll advice you to take the riskier one bc “it’s fun don’t be a prude”.

she is more sympathetic than she let on. imojen’s not very vocal especially with her emotions and on what she exactly feels about other people’s situation. serious conversations? catch her yeet away from those. they render her uncomfortable, most especially if it is about her. however, seeing her friends gloomy doesn’t sit right with her that she does anything to make them crack a smile. 

believes that people should be left to roam free and that authority is useless and ruins the fun— hence why she’d always be caught defying them. yes, she uses her brain, but acts more towards intuition and what she felt like doing that day. so yes, she might loves setting her life on the line.

*   𝖋𝖔𝖚𝖗𝖙𝖍 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗   ╱  ᴡᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ ᴄᴏɴɴᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴꜱ .

plastic hearts   ╱   someone whom imojen shares a passion for music with. the both of you are like peas in a pod as you both are in the same wavelengths as each other. they may not have the same types of music, but open enough to share a plethora of music playlists.

angels like you   ╱   the typical bad-good influence trope wherein imojen’s reckless behavior and liberated thoughts on legalities have gotten your muse in various dangerous but fun adventures. on a flip, your muse may be the reason why imojen’s woken up at 8 in the morning, bright, well, and not hungover.

prisoner   ╱   an angsty and toxic relationship that imojen could not get enough of. everyone sees this partnership (romantic or platonic) of destructive nature, both of you may or may not know, but regardless it can never be broke off no matter how hard both try. 

gimme what i want   ╱   the typical fwb relationship, we can add spice to it, but on the base that’s the idea. 

night crawling   ╱   imojen’s ride or die, the person she would instantly run to for an adventure, midnight strolls, alcohol escapades, and vandalism. but as things you both do burst into haywire, you’re both aren’t afraid to be open to each other too and spill secrets or bodies hidden in the closet. 

midnight sky   ╱   perhaps a new acquaintance?? friend?? that doesn’t exactly have a first good impression of imojen?? maybe vomited on your muse the first time they met, or jen was really mean for no reason under the influence of alcohol?? she’s chaotic so perhaps it wasn’t a good first meeting. 

bad karma   ╱   imojen hasn’t been exactly an angel all her life, and perhaps karma has run around to bite her in her ass. your muse might’ve been somebody who hurt imojen; either a terrible break up or severing trust, let’s explore :D 

golden g string    ╱   a band :D maybe nothing too serious, just a group of pals playing and making music together :D  or maybe the group's been playing gigs for awhile now and wants to head into the big leagues :D

honestly im so down with anything so !!!!!!

[mvdcleines]

hi, everyone!!  this is dede (19, she/her, utc+2), and i’m pleased to introduce st. margaret mary’s favourite eccentric artist and the life of every party on campus, miss marie-madeleine lefebvre! more info under the cut. feel free to add me on discord (@***** ***#0688)!

the basics.

name: marie-madeleine lefebvre

age: 26 years old

occupation: graduate student (art history major)

chastitiy club position: secretary / dealer

the story.

I’M FEELING DEVIOUS.

as a young girl, they told her she was special. that she was the most intelligent child they could ever hope for, that one day, she would have some sort of great destiny to fulfill, something incredible to contribute to the world. and that, they said, is why she couldn’t just stay in school along with all the other children she’s ever known. it would be better for her if she learned some actual new things, they explained, and that is why this special program some unknown third party recommended to them would be the perfect solution. of course, it was in the pyrenées, far from normandy, where her home was and where they themselves were - but it would let her reach that potential that was inside of her already. she wanted to become learned and well-respected like papa, didn’t she? that’s what they thought.

YOU’RE LOOKING GLAMOUROUS.

the route of mathematics they chose for her back at home was something of a mistake, quickly corrected by those at the gifted children’s program. they trained her in all sorts of knowledge, skills and sciences. the work was hard, harder than ever before. she didn’t have to really study before, she just… remembered what was said in classes. now it was a completely different world from what she’d known, and the change didn’t seem to be for the better. her days passed her by quickly, over textbooks, required reading, notes and guides, learning to have a sharp mind as well as excellent manners, to think critically while following every possible rule of savoir-vivre known to the world. she didn’t want to be worse than all the other students there, didn’t she? that’s what they thought.

LET’S GET MISCHIEVOUS.

the life they had planned for her down to the second couldn’t seem appealing anymore as soon as she could really grasp it - when she had some time to even think about it, that is, in the middle of the night. there had to be more to being a teenage girl than absorbing facts like a sponge. a purposeless sponge, since now it didn’t seem so eager to have the floor wiped with it. the ability to pick one’s own courses came soon after that. of course, the choice was mostly up to the parents. but not if someone decided to, say, not read the letters they sent at all and refuse to answer any calls before picking what would distress them the most - any and all art-oriented courses the program had to offer. and after learning she was immensely dedicated to and rather proficient in painting, they wouldn't forbid something that brought such promise, would they? that's what she thought.

AND POLYAMOROUS.

when one achieves small victories, they only fuel the need for newer, bigger, more impactful ones. her case wasn't any different. she could find an academic path she was truly interested in and wanted to continue pursuing - could securing a social standing possibly be harder? she'd read and watched stories about wild, free-spirited women. surely such a woman would be appreciated in these strict surroundings as a break from the monotony. and so she was - the next year, when she was young and sweet, only seventeen, was an endless series of laughs. she laughed when a new social circle accepted her at her table in the cafeteria. she laughed as she choked on her first cigarette. she laughed, pulling the hands of two different boys at once, looking if no teacher could see them running to an empty dorm. she laughed when an older friend brought her a bag of coke for the first time. and when they told her to take her things, she laughed still, walking out the gates. nothing they did could bring her down, could it? that's what she thought. 

WINE AND WOMEN AND WONDERFUL VICES.

all the pointless knowledge forced into her head wasn’t something she terribly missed. there was, however, still a host of problems to be taken care of. the first was, of course, the family she’d left back home. they were displeased with her getting expelled to say the least, and didn’t seem to be easy to appease. the second was her art. for all her distaste for the schooling system, she did at last have something she wanted to practice - something she wanted to master, to turn into a career, to be better, the best at. as luck would have it, both these problems had a solution. the family, thinking it would be an excellent continuation of her education, pulled some strings to get her accepted into some catholic university in paris - paris, with all its sights and nightlife, was an offer she couldn’t refuse. besides, the art history courses seemed cut out for her. she quickly regained the exact reputation she had in her previous environment - of the life of the party, the one who makes life interesting - and can still pull her weight and pass any exam after a year of slacking off in the brief moments she’s not painting or attending yet another rager. she couldn’t have it any other way, could she? that’s what she thought.

WELCOME TO THE CULT OF DIONYSUS.

the newly revived chastity club was something she chose to look into for one reason and one reason only: it seemed like the most hilarious extracurricular concept she’d ever heard of in her life. to be fair, it was even funnier when she discovered the true purpose of the club - and when she just sort of stayed there. the people, contrary to what she’d assumed, were not complete prudes - well, most of them - and they seemed to see the potential in her. she truly was valuable to their grand operation - with her reputation, her contacts and all the events she got invited to. before she thought about it twice, she was their partner in literal crime - and they’d somehow managed to become her closest companions at st. margaret mary’s. the sweet rush of adrenaline dealing provided her with wasn’t comparable to anything. maybe except for how at home she felt among these people, no matter how sappy that sounded. they needed their secretary, and she needed them, didn’t she? that’s what they thought.

the headcanons.

while the style marie-madeleine practices currently in her works (and has been for a while) is decidedly surreal (some would go as far as to call it psychedelic… i wonder why), she has dabbled in impressionism in the past, leaving it after she found it too restricting (and after she started, to put it mildly, enhancing her perception with recreational substances while painting more routinely).

despite the gifted children’s program having taught her critical thinking and a rational, mostly agnostic approach to life, marie-madeleine is very superstitious and interested in the occult, frequently giving semi-clandestine tarot readings to fellow students at st. margaret mary’s, an activity frowned upon by more religious classmates and the school itself. no one truly knows if she actually believes what she says she does or if these practices are more ironic on her part, simply another facet of the eccentric artist mythos she’s built up around herself.

marie-madeleine prefers to use her full, hyphenated first name instead of just marie, even if most people end up calling her just that out of convenience; some would say she revels in the biblical ‘sinner’ allegory, and she frequently makes jokes about her new testament namesake.

she’s gotten in trouble with the chastity club a few times before for exchanging their stock for notes she couldn’t be bothered to take but needed to study for major exams, although substituting some of her own money for the earnings she would have otherwise brought in always got her off scot-free.

she has, at some point, come across the concept of gifted kid burnout and recognized it in herself, although it didn’t bother her like some may think it would. like all her non-social responsibilities, it was just another thing to push to the back of her head.

she has a few bottles of bourbon, her alcohol of choice, hidden in strategic spots around campus, including her handbag, some of the ladies’ rooms and more. no one knows where they all are - probably including marie-madeleine herself.

marie-madeleine has always harbored something of a fondness for greek mythology, just for the sheer absurdity of it all and for what terrible beings the gods really were. then again, she’d been taught the old testament multiple times, and it didn’t seem that much nicer. whenever someone tells her she’s being a disappointment to god (more often than you’d think), she likes to think dionysus would be proud of whatever she’s doing.

she likes to write on the back of her paintings, but not just write anything - what she does is use a rather simple code she devised to mark what sort of influence she was under while painting the work in question. it just seems reasonable not to forget that.

while her drinking and drug use is pretty out of control, she doesn’t smoke as much now as she did when she was a teenager. perhaps it’s because drugs are more easily accessible to her now, or maybe cigarettes just got too boring.

she would never tell anyone this, but she has a particular love for fluffy things, especially clothes - during colder months, when no one can see her, she walks around her apartment in a thick, fluffy robe and matching slippers.

she’s a cat person if the choice is only between that and dogs, but what she really prefers pet-wise is birds. she currently owns a black-headed caique named amadeus.

despite needing it to keep up the chastity club rouse, she doesn’t keep up an appearance of religiosity in front of classmates, as it would directly contradict most of her image at st. margaret mary’s. when it comes to staff, however, she’s a perfect, if unconventional, follower of jesus christ as far as they’re concerned.

she thinks it’s very funny to sneak up on others and then say something out loud when she knows it will scare them nearly to death. complaints have been heard, but not taken to heart.

her favourite holiday is surely halloween, partially because everyone suddenly wants her to do their makeup, partially because there’s twice as many parties as usual, and partially because of how triggered the most religious of her fellow students get, which she finds hilarious.

she likes to gesticulate a lot while speaking, and has gotten in trouble for this back at the gifted children’s program when she accidentally slapped a bypassing teacher in the face.

despite acting like a leo (or perhaps aquarius) stereotype, she is actually a sagittarius (shocker).

she grows vegetables on her balcony, and somehow always forgets to collect them until it’s too late. it just happens every time and she’s stopped fighting it at this point.

it’s sometimes funny to her how much conspiracy and care is being put into the chastity club’s weed trade, simply because of how lightly she views weed when compared to what she usually stuffs her system with in her spare time.

tba!

the aesthetics.

a red wine stain, striking against silky fabric. the devious smile of someone who knows exactly what will happen next. a worn-out deck of tarot cards. traces of cocaine on a marble counter. the bold, firm strokes of a brush on canvas. a half-eaten plum. a shawl flowing along as you move. the remains of paint on your fingers. a small bottle of bourbon hidden behind books on a shelf. healing crystals. ignoring responsibility until it goes away. golden hoop earrings. a broken high heel.

the wanted plots.

the good influence ( 0/1 ). another person different from marie, but in this case, they managed to strike up a friendship that probably ends with them lending her a few brain cells in exchange for what amounts to the ‘ted, i’m gonna teach you how to live’ gif from himym.

the rival ( 0/1 ). was it something in their shared past? just a general friction between people, as it often is? no matter why, these two don’t like each other in the slightest and will do most anything to show the other who’s the better... well... chastity club member here.

the neighbor/roommate/someone crashing on her couch ( 0/1 ). just because domesticity is adorable.

more to be added, but if you have ideas, hit me up!!

[letartisticvisionsarise]

Mental Abuse

Experiencing Mental Abuse

Why and Some Ways to Help

Before I begin, I would like to get across that I am grateful for everything I have, a roof over my head, food and my mother and the memories given. I have never been physically abused but that does not mean that emotional or verbal abuse is any less. Any type of abuse is not to be condoned and anyone suffering from it must know firstly that they are valid and loved.

The Beginning

I always told myself that the only way I'd ever write about myself, it would be a fantasy book. I never imagined that it would be just something I start on a whim of negative emotions. But I have to find a way to tell my story before its too late and no one can hear me. Because I know there has to be, at least, one person that can relate to this story. I’m here to rant my emotions and let someone know, that they are not alone. That the years of pain and tears are not unheard.

Where I live its supposed to be a homey place and it’s known for it’s diversity and acceptance. But from a young age, my mother and I weren’t accepted. In the household where we live, surrounded by supposed ‘family’, we’ve been shunned and cursed at, hated and pushed away from. We are, essentially, the black sheep.

What we go through…

I’m not the most social person, because of these people. They are supposed to be people I can trust and lean on, but instead, on a daily basis, we have to tip toe around them. Because my mother did her best raising me, bless her soul, I’m little different from them. I know right from wrong, I wouldn’t say I’m better than them, I’m just more “literacy” inclined and I try not to take shit from people.

To continue, for years I have suffered under these people’s words and actions. I am not perfect, but that does not mean I do not take responsibility for my actions. Any child has made mistakes but eventually, we all grow out of those bad habits and I am fortunate to have the guidance to grow out of them. These days, at almost an adult, I am blamed for taking something worth five dollars and threatened to be kicked out. If my mother and I try to provide facts and deny these accusations, (because why would we steal something), we are always told the same thing- 'Get out the House, get out my house!'

The people I live with, I do not even consider to be family anymore. Family is supposed to give you advice and help you when you’re down, not kick you. Family is supposed to trust your judgment and see that you have changed. Family is supposed to give you a chance. Family is supposed to give you hope and tell you to pursue your writing career, not laugh and make fun of it or saying that I think I’m better than them. My real family, I have made up from people that understand and accept me, because, if there is one thing I’ve learned from Supernatural, is that 'family doesn’t end in blood’.

I would like to think I have incredible patience but once I saw my mother cry, that’s where the patience ends. My mother is the strongest and most incredible woman in my life. Without her, I don’t where I’d be in life. She has sacrificed and has continued to for me but has to fight every week to simply survive in this household.  But, I at least wanted others to know. I’m not looking for pity or anything, I’m just getting it out there that  I understand what those who go through the same daily emotional and mental struggle. I am with you and wish I could tell you it gets better, but I don’t even know anymore. Most of these days I just sit and ask the same question.

Why us?

Why do people deserve this? What have we done to even be singled out and hated. To be the odd bods. Are we bad people? What did we do? Why is God just not doing anything to help? Why are they laughing while we get threatened to leave? Why are watched every second of the day, anything we eat, anything we do, is measured constantly. Why is our life so bad? Why aren't we good enough? Is it because we don't want to be like you? Because we just want a better life for ourselves than living at rock bottom with you? Why is that so bad? To want a better life? A happier life? Is it wrong to work for that, to wish for that?

The Big Why?

When I was fifteen, I was hit with something big. Not only did I find my passion, but I also answered that question.

Creative careers, here are rare and in between, plus are believed to be a 'waste of time' or 'not a good future job’. Many of my peers were either too afraid to try art or poetry and writing, or, they simply weren’t allowed to. Many of us grew up in very unsupported and mentally abusive homes, or homes that weren’t financially able to support.

The answer to Why, goes in two ways;

They are Depressed or suffering from sort of Mental Illness.

Don’t attack me, hear me out first.

Depression or any Mental illness is not an excuse for a person’s destructive behavior, especially if they are hurting others. But, it could possibly be part of the reason to why. Please understand that where we come from there are strict religious upbringings, so whenever Mental Health is brought up, it’s considered ‘taboo’, so to speak. Many families never receive the right help and tend to blame themselves or others for their problems. Therefore resorting to alcohol or abuse, whether it be mental, physical or emotional, to others or themselves.

*note, this is speaking from my experiences.

Their Upbringing Plays a Huge Part

Whether they come from a religious, strict, negative or even abusive family, that shows in their future. It doesn’t determine that they will become terrible people. They can, in fact, become strong and good members of society. Then there’s others that take their negative experiences and force it on to their families or children. If they are from religious backgrounds, they tend to ignore signs of mental illness or worse, try to ‘force it out' by religious means. If they’d have a negative background as well, this may be portrayed with their bad habits, such as smoking or drinking excessively. This is because of what they saw and experienced when younger and all that they know or chose to know.

*again, this is from personal experience and growth

Now…

Mental Health is so important and is a definitive part of Self Care. People should know that no matter your background, your race, gender, sexuality, religious beliefs and values, your mental health is not to be put aside. If you have to take a day off from work, that is more important than breaking down weekly and wondering what you did wrong.

Some things that I do to take care of myself;

-Write down my thoughts,

-Listen to Music, Podcasts or AudioBooks,

-Watch YouTube,

-Do Yoga in the Morning and before Bed.

So, I have made it my destiny to make sure that others, know that they are not alone and to help them by encouraging to pursue that goal. My sisters know firsthand what it’s like to have no support or motivation from family, including myself. I have witnessed and been the victim of these stresses, knowing that it can place permanent trauma on someone’s self-esteem or future life. I would never wish that on another person and will use my experiences to make sure that, at least someone, knows that they 'can do it’!

Now, I’ve used those method above, to keep sane in my circumstances and I can’t say the same for others. Please, if you are in a situation where you cannot leave, please, find a support system to keep you going. Or message me on Instagram and I’ll add you to a group where we can keep updated and help each other out. If you situation is dire, contact immediate help from authorities or a professional, be it a psychiatrist or councilor. You deserve to be heard and you deserve to be happy and free. I hope this reaches at least one person, someday. Thank you, Jazie.

[muthaz-rapapa]

Precure in the Arts (Civilian only)

Creative arts, to be specific. Therefore, this post encompasses a variety of subjects and is also not exclusive to the traditional kind.

I included as much as I could think of but it’s probably still incomplete, either because I don’t remember well enough or do not know certain characters well enough (like I said before, I haven’t watched the first three seasons) or whatever so if anyone wants to point out what I missed, please do.

Comments below the cut.

Note: This will be continually updated as new additions come along.

Music:

Singing

Musical Instruments (Classical)

- Violin: Karen, Haruka, Minami, Towa - Piano: Karen, Hibiki, Alice, Madoka

Musical Instruments (Guitar)

Performing Arts:

Acting

Dancing

Visual Arts:

Painting

Illustration

Literature:

**Generally speaking, this list was created with the idea (and hope) that these activities aren’t just hobbies or past times for the girls. In other words, their interests or specialties are part of who they are. A trait that makes up an important fraction of them as a character and a person.

Ya get what I mean? Well, you will as we go along.

Singing - A lot of girls sing in series but these are the ones who are known to perform for the public. With the exception of Aoi, who’s a rock star, all of them are idols, unsurprisingly.

Anyways, not only do they like what they do but they also enjoy performing for a crowd and sharing their music with others. This is why Ako, who despite the fact that she likes singing, is not listed because for her, singing is a more private matter to be done around those she’s close to.

As for Ellen, I was see-sawing between whether to include her in this list or not since Siren spent most of her time singing as a villain. In the end, I decided that she qualifies since she was one of the top contenders to perform for Major Land. In a way, that’s sort of like being an idol and had Hummy not been chosen, she probably would’ve been the one to sing the Melody of Happiness instead. Also, I believe I’ve seen clips of her doing street performances so that counts, too.

Musical Instruments (Classical) - In defense against the fact that we only ever got short moments of seeing the girls play music, I don’t think it’s a stretch to say that most of them will continue to carry their talents with them as they grow older. Especially for those who spent a lot of time training and polishing their skills so it’d be a waste for them to stop, y’know? Not to mention, I’m pretty sure all of them like playing their respective instruments as well so that was also taken into consideration.

Which is my reasoning on not including Emiru even though she’s proficient in violin and piano. I’m choosing to believe she never forgets what she learned with the classical instruments but since she ultimately prefers the guitar over anything else, there’s little point in keeping her here.

A question mark for Karen, though. We all saw her with a violin in the first OP of Yes!5 (and some other promo art) but I could’ve sworn I’ve seen her play piano at least once sometime in the series. I’d go back and check but it’s such a minor detail and Yes!5 is so long that I don’t feel like searching for it so can someone confirm with me on this if she does know how to play the piano?? It has been confirmed that Karen does indeed play the piano. Thank you, @darkis4everinlight​!!

Musical Instruments (Guitar) - Nothing much to say here that isn’t already obvious.

**Performing Arts - Yea, yea, I know music is a type of performing arts but it’s big enough to deserve its own separate section so don’t argue with me on that.

As for why dancing is not listed has so little people despite there being a whole group of Cures (Fresh) who did perform in that area...well, like I said above, this is more of an individual sorting. I believe the Fresh group partook in dancing because they wanted to do it together. But when it’s not together, they have other stuff they’d rather focus on like Miki with her modeling and Inori learning to become a vet and Setsuna helping rebuild Labyrinth. I don’t know about Love, though, so...

EDIT: Looked back on the wiki and Love apparently does continue with dancing even after the group split up so she’s listed now.

...come to think of it, Minami fits in the dance section too because she did ballet but in the end that wasn’t her passion so...I dunno, should I list her? :/ Nevermind, it’s up.

Acting - I feel like we need more Cures in this field. I mean, there are so many types of acting out there so it’d be great if we can see more actors among our main cast members.

About Saaya, though. Yea, she chose to drop acting to pursue a medical career but it was partially through acting that she discovered her true calling in the first place. In that sense, the acting portion of her life is an irreplaceable part of her.

Dancing - Ok true, while Minami’s most noticeable attribute as a character is her connection and love for the sea, it’s also undeniable that she was a total Ojou-sama for most of Go!Pri’s story. And as Ojou-sama qualities go, they are like masters of almost anything.

Frankly, if I wanted to be very honest with this list, I would’ve completely scraped her (and Karen and Alice, for that matter) from musical instruments because the violin didn’t mean as much to her as it did for Haruka and Towa story-wise and the same extends to ballet as well. Like Saaya with acting, she put these activities, along with her heiress duties, aside to pursue her real dream. 

But also like Saaya with being an actress, being an Ojou-sama and everything that came with it (aka the “grooming package”) was a huge part of who Minami was before that realization.

By the logic, I can’t leave it out. So the same applies to the other Oujos, too.

**Visual Arts - Again, it might be because I’m forgetting some things and whatnot but seriously? This is all we have for Cures gifted in visual arts? What about film making, photography, crafts, sculpture, computer graphics??

Also, I’m wondering if I should include design under this but I feel that Fashion needs to be its own category so nah, probably not.

Painting - Haven’t watched Splash Star so I’m just basing this off of what I’ve seen in the All Stars movies.

Illustration - I don’t know what is or is not considered part of the arts these days but as I said above, this isn’t limited to the traditional kind so I believe I can put illustration under here. It doesn’t fit anywhere else, otherwise.

**Literature - Yeap, I need more Cures who aspire to become writers as well. Not just novelists. Screenwriters, playwrights, poets, etc!

So many areas of interests so why are you not using everything the world has to offer, TOEEEEEIIIIIII?!?!?!?!??

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Update log:

4/2/20 - Post published.

4/3/20 - Edited; updated Karen’s info and added Love to Dancing category.

[go-events]

GO Rom Com Spotlight: @apocryphalia

The most excellent @apocryphalia​ (also apocryphalia on Twitter and AO3) has claimed Casanova to adapt for Good Omens in the Good Omens Rom Com Event.

For reference, here’s a little background about the source material.

About Casanova: With a reputation for seducing members of the opposite sex, Casanova discovers a beauty who seems impervious to his charms. However, as he continues to pursue the indifferent lady, he finds himself falling in love.

We spent some time chatting about how the adaptation is coming so far, as well as future plans for it! Now, get to know @apocryphalia​ a little better!

* * *

goromcom: So, you know how if you open a Tumblr chat with someone you haven't chatted to before, Tumblr tells you two things they post about? I wanted to tell you that yours reports that you post "about #aziraphale/crowley and #ineffable husbands." Well, you're a true blue fan, and I support that!

apocryphalia: Considering this blog exists because I’m 100% pure Good Omens trash, that’s not shocking. I’m also slightly obsessive about my tags, which is probably why my mother and that one career test I took in college insist that I should have been a librarian.

goromcom: Oh, librarian is one of my dream jobs, but I never pursued it. I also feel similarly about tags! But before I start waxing poetic about the Dewey Decimal System, let’s segue to your rom com.

You chose to adapt Casanova as your rom com. Has this story been a favorite of yours, or is there some other reason you chose it? Were you thinking specifically of the David Tennant adaptation of the story, or just Casanova in general?

apocryphalia: Like a lot of us, I may have gone a little bit crazy watching Tennant and Sheen's previous roles after the show came out, so I had seen his Casanova fairly recently, and I was definitely thinking of that version when I looked at the list. Also, this is a bit silly, but I have no idea how dates work, and I originally thought that the event claims opened the day after they actually did. I had off work the day I thought claims started, and I was planning to watch a bunch of movies I hadn't seen and put some real thought into which one I might want to do, but I figured out about two hours beforehand that I was very wrong. So I kind of panicked and just started throwing titles that I had already seen into the list, and I liked Casanova and couldn't resist the Tennant connection, so… here we are. No regrets.

goromcom: Sometimes life throws us the very curveball we need.

What's your favorite moment of Casanova, and are you looking forward to presenting it in your adaptation? Any loose plans for that scene that you can share?

apocryphalia: I love Bellino, and I love the scene where she breaks off her engagement with Casanova and plays wingman for him with Henriette instead. My main goal in planning this so far is basically just maximum gender fuckery, so I’m still trying to work out exactly what to do with the character—I’m going to have to play fast and loose with the actual historical status of castrati, which gives my historian-brain some anxiety—but I think it’ll be fun to write, and hopefully fun to read! (Also, fun fact, the actual historical Casanova may have been bisexual, so why shouldn't Crowley!Casanova try to marry a castrato and also fem!Aziraphale?)

goromcom: Why not, indeed? I can absolutely see that for both the historical Casanova and for Crowley/Aziraphale as well.

Other than a healthy sprinkling of gender fuckery (of which I’m very much a fan) do you plan to stick very closely to the beats of the original story, or make bigger changes?

apocryphalia: I’m planning to stick pretty closely to the events of the Tennant adaptation for the first half or so, but I’m changing the ending because obviously our ineffable spouses need a happy ending! I’m also ditching certain children that appear in the story, for the purposes of gender fuckery.

I would like to keep to the flashback format, as in the movie older Casanova is actually telling these stories about his life and his relationship with Henriette to another servant in the household where he’s now a librarian. So parts of the fic will be in first person as excerpts from Crowley’s memoirs, and others will be in third person telling the events as they actually occurred. I haven’t completely nailed down which POVs I want to use yet, but Crowley is certainly not a reliable narrator, and I think the back-and-forth timeline showing both young and old Casanova is interesting, so I’m going to try to keep that vibe in the fic.

goromcom: What's an interesting decision you've made in your planning so far--a notable casting decision, a changing of venue, or some other plan you have to paint Good Omens all over your rom com?

apocryphalia: Ineffable wives! Again, I’m going to have to play fast and loose with history and it’s giving me some anxiety, but this is fiction, it’s fanfiction, and it’s going to be fun, dammit! Fem!Casanova!Crowley may be slightly channeling Gentleman Jack, because who doesn’t love lesbian Suranne Jones? Aziraphale gets to be the cautious, repressed one desperately trying to adhere to societal expectations while also being desperately in love with her as Henriette, and there will be plenty of slow-burn, mutual-pining, dancing-around-their-feelings-and-their-crappy-circumstances goodness!

goromcom: I think fiction and art help us imagine the world we want, so if we want a world where people aren’t so hung up on gender or orientation, what better place to start than in our storytelling? <3

But I don’t want you to reveal too much about your story before it’s time to post it, so let’s move on to the final question, cribbed from The Good Place: The Podcast. Tell me something "good". It can be something big or small. It can be a charity you think is doing good work, or you can talk about how great your pet is.

apocryphalia: Well, I can’t resist an opportunity for pet pics. My cats are both terrible at being cats, and they are my favorite things in the whole world. Look at these little idiots being king and queen of recycling mountain! [ed: photo below interview] 

Also, on a real note, there are other similar organizations all over that could use support, but here in my part of South Jersey, the SERV program at the Center for Family Services runs the domestic and sexual violence advocacy programs, and assists victims of human trafficking. I’m a former volunteer with them, and everyone involved in that work is so incredibly compassionate. They provide free counseling, support survivors through the medical exam and reporting process (or through the decision not to report), and they operate a 24-hour hotline and the domestic violence shelters for two counties. Their #1 goal is to believe and trust survivors, and to support whatever they decide is best for them, not to pressure them into any particular course of action (i.e., reporting an assault or filing for a restraining order) and I just think that’s incredibly powerful and helpful.

goromcom: SERV sounds like an important resource and I’m so glad the people of South Jersey have something like that to support them. (Though let’s hope as few people need it as possible.)

Make sure to watch for the GO adaptation of Casanova, coming soon. (And now here’s that pet photo I know everyone was waiting for.)