#And Ellie will not take being taken advantage of lying down | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

crab-in-a-pocket · 3 years

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fellow elliott lover... if ur up for it... a headcanons post about elli's first smexy time(s) with the farmer would be pog... only if u want of course!! i just saw ur nsfw asks are open and i went "HNGNGMMN...GOTTA DO IT" LMAO -@farmersirius

sorry to the folks with asks at the back of the line but i have been waiting for an excuse to write sexy nsfw elliott stuff and the opportunity has presented itself. the idea is, of course, super Pog, sirius. gender-neutral farmer, so no explicit mentions of genitalia and tiddies (or the lack thereof).

nsfw below:

unfortunately, its heavily implied that the reader is AFAB because

👉vaginal penetration👈

i dont know enough about being an AMAB (as i am not one) and having anal sex during your first sexual encounter with someone, sorry ;((

more nsfw below the cut :))

it had started out with a simple goodbye, goodnight kiss but you had made the most fortunate mistake of tangling your hand in his hair, gently tugging at his nape as you two kissed at your doorway

elliott had let out a tiny little sound not too unlike a groan and kissed you deeply, his tongue slipping in

you're very suddenly horny and amused but you're not sure if he wants to have sex, yet-- it's just a precaution. you do know, however, that elliott's got that little tendency to blurt out what he wants if pressed hard enough, so you pull away, give him a gentle peck on the cheek and pat his chest gently.

"goodnight," you had said to him, grinning widely at the slightly startled and embarassed look on his face. "it's getting a little late, isn't it?"

elliott just stared at you wordlessly, his pretty green eyes narrowed in a sort of calculating way, trying to see past your little ruse. your relationship with him is mostly you being a coy tease and it's working to your advantage

"it is rather late," he began, smiling. "i know you wouldn't mind if i stayed."

his cool bluntness had taken you aback but you grinned right back at elliott and pulled him back into your cabin, pulling him into a firm, passionate kiss

so, maybe you two had done a bunch of kissing before. more than kissing, more than a little shy touching, but it irked you a little at how much of a gentleman elliott could be. thank yoba he wasn't holding back anymore

his kisses were gentle, his lips warm and pliant against yours. it's driving you a little mad-- you kissed him fiercely and he took the hint.

you drag him to your bedroom, stumbling over furniture, trying to rip his clothes off, his hands hot against your waist, and his mouth wandering down to your neck

you feel like you're on fire, your cheeks aflame, skin burning, unable to hold still as you two tangle yourselves in each other's limbs

"are you sure?" he had asked you quietly. the only other sound in the room was your breathing, but you could've sworn that your heart was pounding loud enough for the whole world to hear. you told him yes, yes, yes, yes

it was surreal watching elliott undress, kneeling on your bed, his hair gleaming under the light of the moon. his eyes flashed when you stripped in front of him, down to nothing but your underwear and he follows suit

then he's gentle again, his mouth tender as he kissed you, then your cheek, your jaw, your neck, and lower and lower down to your chest, murmuring praise under his breath

and here you are now, half naked and lying flat on your bed, one hand fisting your sheets, the other firmly squeezing elliott's wrist as his mouth laves over your nipple, his usually bright green eyes dark and hungry

you eventually demand for more and he obliges, pushing your legs apart and holding one thigh up with a hand as he grins at the sight of your clothed sex

you're fucking delirious with lust at this point-- if he hadn't been such a tease, though, the brush of his fingers against your torso, your hips, and the inside of your thighs wouldn't have had your heart so frequently jolting and almost leaping out of your chest with pleasure

the sight of his mouth on you, the eagerness and delight in his eyes (something other lovers of yours had lacked, unfortunately), and the feel of it was just so fucking good and your cries of pleasure come uninhibited, back arching even as elliott pins your hips in place

elliott's talent really lies with that mouth of his-- you nearly short circuit as you lie there, trying your hardest not to cage his head between your legs, but just as the hot, eager coil of pleasure between your legs is about to release, he pulls away

"what on earth?" you ask him breathlessly, a little brusquely as you narrow your eyes at him just as he rises from his position between your legs to kiss you firmly

you help him take off his boxers (no tighty-whities here, that's for harvey) and holy FUCK you can feel him jutting against you and he is so fucking hard. how does elliott look so composed??? upon closer inspection, you note that his jaw is clenched, his pupils are dilated with lust, and he's looking at you the way you look at gus' pizza. he's not really that composed, not at all

when he pushes in you, you let out a breathless gasp, slowly growing accustomed to his girth and length, feeling the tension in his arms as he hovers over you, leaning on his elbows

he's slow and gentle, his hips rocking against yours, his groans surprisingly loud even as he tries to muffle it against the crook of your neck

holy shit. the pleasure is intense and he's fucking good at this stuff and you're urging him to move faster and harder against you, breathless at the electric jolts and liquid fire, at the toe-curling jerks of his hips

he succeeds at having you come first-- elliott's restraint is fucking god-like and he comes just after you, his low groans morphing into higher, less self-conscious moans of pleasure while he held his orgasm at bay

he somehow manages to clean you up while you lay there, breathless and boneless, limbs like jelly and head delightfully free of thought

he throws a blanket and wraps his arms around you and you two doze off, butt naked under your bedsheets while you two enjoy deep, post-coital sleep

you wake him up with a blowjob the next morning. his surprise and pleasure is a delight

11/10, would definitely do it again

#sdv #stardew valley #elliott sdv #sdv elliott #stardew elliott #sdv headcanons #sdv hcs #stardew headcanons #n/s/f/w #asks open

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minipliny · 3 years

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it’s 1am and I am angry about 2019 moby dick musical lyrics

I have been wanting to write my historical-context-of-Queequeg-in-Moby-Dick and what-the-fuck-was-the-musical for 10 months, and I have been continually aware that it is not going to be a good version of this post and that I know nothing about this subject beyond some judicious Googling and JSTOR access. On the other hand, Dave Malloy had Google too and created…….these song lyrics. So please imagine me waving at you, the reader, frantically, in the direction of more information, rather than a learned disquisition of any sort. Also if I get anything wrong (WHICH I HAVE BEFORE) tell me.

Also point one: the source text Malloy is working with is absolutely also a racist text. He just didn’t have to do…that with it. And obviously, he’s writing it as a joke! I realise this! But when you explicitly decide to do a song about cultural relativism, and then you decide to present what I think even I can notice is kind of a wildly inaccurate caricature which doesn’t really have anything else in mainstream media to counterbalance it, and then you never ever get any of the delicate character work or adaptational work that you get in Great Comet…I don’t know that this is something that was thought about or if Malloy decided to take the entire concept of 19th century Pacific Islanders and leave it as “they eat people! I can make up how exactly by consulting the Wikipedia cannibalism entry and not scrolling down to any specific examples! Also I don’t need to think about any social or historical ramifications.

So, point two. The “Autobiography” section of Moby Dick clearly and obviously draws on the account of Te Pehi Kupe’s journey to England on 26 February 1824. Geoffrey Sanborn has written several articles and books discussing this, with further articles by Juniper Ellis and Caroline Schwarz.

(I’d add at this point that this one of many many Maori journeys to Europe and America at this point, with many different aims – while Te Pehi Kupe was looking for a military resource which was giving a devastating advantage and determining much of the balance of power at the time, many other people were more interested in architecture, agriculture, manufacturing, windmills, trade, law and justice, literacy, religion, politics, and of course acquiring a printing press. So Melville’s idea of trying to find a way of making the people happier than previously is semi a joke, semi reflecting what was an actual thing)

Te Pehi Kupe, a rangatira (chief) of Ngati Toa, paddled out to the ship Urania, and resisting being thrown aboard, demanded to stay on board, go to Europe, and ask King George for guns. He befriended the captain and saved him from drowning, travelling to England to meet George IV, observe military matters (like regiments being reviewed) and visit factories. Returning to a complex and escalating series of wars partly fuelled by the huge imbalances of firepower that muskets brought, he was ultimately killed during conflict with Ngai Tahu.

For the history and conflicts of Ngāti Toa, released only a week ago is a new book containing a 50,000 account in te reo Māori of Te Rauparaha’s life, written by Te Rauparaha’s son Tamihana between 1866 and 1869.

The very same day that Aperahama Te Kawe spoke to him, Te Rauparaha announced: “In the morning we shall go, migrate; the pā is about to fall.” At this, Ngāti Toa’s spirits were lifted, the 140 who were inside their pā, Te Arawī.

In the morning when the sun was high, near midday, they migrated, they left their pā. They did not allow themselves to weep, they left Kāwhia behind, following the paths along the coast. The men and women who did not have the strength to travel were left lying on the trail and some perished from starvation.

They carried on throughout that day until nightfall. When they reached Marokopa my mother was left there, heavy with child — for indeed I was inside her womb about to be born — along with some other chiefly women of Ngāti Toa who were also left at Marokopa. The travelling party with the fighting men carried on, including Te Rauparaha. My mother was not abandoned there, another relative, Pukeroa, stayed with her to look after her, along with some others of Ngāti Toa.

The Ngāti Toa travelling party carried on. When they got to the top of Moeātoa [30 km south of Kāwhia], the hill, they looked back down at Kāwhia lying below. Now the love for their home, for Kāwhia, welled up. Then the people of Ngāti Toa and their elder, Te Rauparaha, wept, their grief was like the sighing sea. How could he not be overcome with love for the homeland that he was leaving behind, the land of his birth where his placenta was buried?

And I’m putting this really wrenching excerpt here because the history and culture that Melville very shakily and ignorantly nonetheless draws on (from religious beliefs, to the idea that the afterlife involves travel back to a specific island, to art and carving, ta moko, warfare, wedding customs to humour) is….real people’s history. The warfare of the Musket Wars did involve the ritualised consumption of the bodies of dead enemies – that didn’t actually make everything a joke to the people who took part in it, or leave their descendants without legacies to reckon with, painful memories or acts of heroism.

And I’m just going to put Ross Calman, the author of the book’s quote here regarding the very contemporary relevance of history:

We can’t pretend that it’s all going to be happy families. It’s been a very difficult past and we have to face up to the violence of the early founding years of this nation. It’s been built on violence and on deceit and on land being taken from Māori in a variety of ways. It’s left us as an impoverished people and we’re still feeling the effects today.

A lot of Pākehā say: “Oh, that’s in the past. You can’t blame me for that.” But the impact of the violence and deceit and theft is still very much with us, and that has to be addressed.

(And for more there, there is this Vincent O’Malley article for one of many, many examples)

Or for a commentary by an early 19th century Māori speaker on both European and Maori societies, have the debate between Te Whareumeu and Augustus Earle quoted in Tangata Whenua: “the only difference in our laws is, you flog and hang, but we shoot and eat”.

And finally, here is an actual comic song from the 1820s/30s Māori world, full of irony, wordplay, and double-entendre.

This was sung by some women of the Te Namu pa which had successfully withstood a siege from a taua (war-party) of Te Ati-Awa. The war-party was armed with two muskets. They made a great noise but killed nobody.

Guns came down

To Te Taniwha

To Huri—whenua—

Calling out to the weak ones

Driven here by the guns—

Ha! Come to me, black death,

Come to my thighs, conquering earth—

They shiver at his breath

He beats and burns and roars

Ha! He is done.

What a weapon of love

A sharp bullet from above—

Ha! I am caught in his cold fire

There is no end to his desire—

Ha! He is done!

#cw for #racism #warfare #cannibalism mention #i'm still angry apparently #moby dick #history

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cxmetery-gates · 3 years

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OBSESSIVE TEACHINGS - DARK!TOM HIDDLESTON

CHAPTER SIX: PICKUP TRUCK THOUGHTS

SUMMARY: Lynn takes a moment of solitude to put things into perspective, all thanks to a friend’s truck and some clouds. WORD COUNT: 2.8k NOTE: Not me falling of the face of the internet for a couple months. Whoops! WARNINGS: dark!tom hiddleston, teacher!tom hiddleston

OBSESSIVE TEACHINGS MASTERLIST

"YOU REALIZE IT'S A SERIOUS problem at this point, right?"

"At least it's not crack."

The two familiar voices catch both mine and Gabe's attention. With the doors open, legs sprawled out wherever they're comfy, and some early 2000s alternative music jamming from the speakers, we genuinely look like high school delinquents. All we're missing is a cigarette hanging from our lips.

My back aches as I pry my upper half to sit up straight, a chorus of popping following my movement. I brightly grin at River and Ellie and my feet reach the black pavement. It appears Ellie just rolled her eyes at River's sassy remark. I begin to ask what they were talking about before I notice something being shoved back in the boy's backpack: his new Obi-Wan Kenobi lightsaber. Part of me isn't surprised, but the other half is wondering what reason he has to carry it around at school. Regardless of the reason, we all have our quirks: it took me until the eighth grade to leave my replica of Harry Potter's wand at home.

Geeky things, I guess?

I can only guess what River was telling Ellie when it comes to his devotion to Star Wars. There isn't an existing number to count how often River and I find ourselves on the topic of space battles and the Skywalkers.

"What's up, friendos?" I ask as they draw closer. A sudden chilly breeze lifts my hair and bumps along my skin. It's almost a frustrating sensation, it being the middle of August. It looks like I'm the only one who feels it, as my teeth are the only ones that chatter. Since my arms are tightly holding each other, I barely have time to react to Ellie's next reaction.

Ellie drags her feet dramatically until she goes limp in my arms. "I wanna go home and sleep."

I stumble back at the weight added, wriggling my arms to hold her steady. The last thing I need on the first day of school is a concussion. "Christ— well maybe if you get off, we can take you home."

River piles his backpack into the back of Gabe's truck, the loud thump startling Ellie, and looks at us with a confused stare. "Weren't– Weren't we supposed to hang out today?"

The girl in my arms rises to her feet, groaning. "Shit, I forgot. My mom said she wants me back home after school as soon as possible. You know, groundings and all."

"Next time, don't get into an accident." Gabe sends her a smirk.

Ellie narrows her eyes and mocks his response, crossing her arms and leaning on one leg. A small chortle parts my lips as I lean up against the truck next to River. After her bickering, Ellie continues. "Go get ice cream or something in my memory. I just have to get back before I'm killed, which should be any day now."

"I call your funeral playlist," I reply. Looking up while my fingers stroke my chin comically, I add, "A ton of 80s pop with a dash of Gaga?"

Booping my nose, Ellie smiles. "You know me too well."

We all file into Gabe's small truck— well, almost all of us. Since the truck is a three-seater and police like to patrol this area, there is always a sacrifice who gets to claim the back of the car. This time, it happens to be me. Once I was lying flat on my back, a blue tarp was pulled over my body, coming right above my nose. Oh, the perks of old, short pick-up trucks roaming a town with endless police...

Sliding open the window, Gabe's voice calls out. "You good back there?"

"Yeah, I'm fucking peachy," I reply.

There's the sound of laughter before the engine kicks on. At that moment, my paranoia starts to kick in, starting with my heart beating fast in my chest and palms getting sweaty. Not once have any of us gotten caught, but I can't help but think the day we are, it's my ass going to jail. I've never bothered to look at the laws relating to seat belts in other states, but here, the law is highly enforced. Not only would I get fined and definitely put into a cell, but I have no doubt Gabe would endure the same fate.

Nice way to put yourself in one of these states, I chastise myself.

I almost groan, but I can't be sure if I'll cause one of the friends up front to worry. So, I exhale and inhale rhythmically like I was taught. Looking straight ahead, all I can see are blue skies and puffy white clouds. Occasionally, a tree or two will enter the scenery. I'm barely blinking as I try to put shapes to the clouds, some more impossible than others. Despite having an imaginative mind, the figures aren't creating a picture for me to follow.

I like to remember how easy it was as a child to create something out of nothing. An empty napkin roll wasn't just cardboard; it was a telescope that needed color. Our dolls weren't acting on our behalf; they were doing it themselves and showing us their lives. Every cloud wasn't just a random array of water droplets but rather, a visual story to be told. I want to know what causes all of us to lose that form of innocence. Ways of thinking like pessimism or optimism, that's easy: once too many shitty things start to happen more than the good, one is likely to form a biased view or vice versa. But, why do we stop playing with imaginary friends? Or act out intense battles on the playground? Even the smallest blip of innocence, like cloud-watching, becomes warped.

Sometimes, it's easy to pick out that moment in our own lives where we find ourselves becoming grown-ups and leaving childhood behind, but the shitty part is that it isn't just me or Ellie, River, or Gabe who go through trials. It's not just the kid who loses a parent or the girl who was taken advantage of. Everyone has their wars. And in the end, we lose, becoming a part of the system that inflicts these damages.

These damages I speak of tear us apart. They mold us into shapes beyond recognition. No longer a funny shape or a distorted animal in the sky, but dark, heavy, and so close to bursting. And when we finally let go, after all the waiting and rolling, we seem to explode, leaking and oozing our pain, our torment, us. And when it's over? What's left? I guess there are two options: remain on the ground to seep into further nothingness, or rise once more, only to break again, again, and again. But life is such torment and full of trials, is it not?

Funny how staring at a cloud can put life into perspective.

My brain is overrun by these thoughts that I don't even realize Gabe's truck is rolling to a stop. I finally take notice when car doors swing open then shut.

"Wake up, sleeping beauty," River says leaning over the side of the truck to get a look at me.

Rolling my eyes with a grin, I swat at his shoulder, which misses as he recoils. "Shut up, loser." I sit up, tossing the tarp to the side as I move to stand. River smirks and offers his hands to help me down. Without hesitation I take them, swinging one leg over the side and the other following before I made a short leap to the ground. Because neither of us apparently can avoid embarrassment, we're both holding each other's hands after I land. A rosy blush spreads across his entire face— no doubt mine as well— before I take the initiative to lean backwards, focusing on Ellie who crawls from the side door.

"Speaking of losers," Gabe sighs. I can't help but feel the reddening in my cheeks, assuming this asshole is talking about River and me, but I notice he's looking at Ellie, now swinging her backpack around one shoulder in her driveway.

She notices that all of us are looking, causing her to freeze. "Why does everyone hate me today?"

I smile bringing her into a goofy hug. "We just miss you. Don't get into any more accidents, please?"

"Yeah, yeah," she snorts, hugging me back to the best of her ability, considering I have her arms pinned down at an odd angle. "Alright, leave my driveway before I actually get you guys killed."

Gabe, River, and I say our goodbyes before filing into the white truck, heading God-knows-where as a worn-down engine sparks to life. Looking over at River, who sits to my right in the passenger seat, I send him a glare that he doesn't see since his eyes are focused on what lies beyond the window— or lack thereof.

While his hair barely covers his neck, mine flows down to my mid-back, meaning having windows rolled all the way down and speeding down a highway won't lead to the best outcomes for my hair. But I can't complain too much: River's hair going crazy in the wind is both cute and a bit funny. A small smile graces my features before a thin lock of hair enters my lips.

Glancing over at the driver, I notice how only locks of hair toward the ends move slowly despite the windows rolled all the way down, as if the strands are wearing a shield against the wind. I wonder how Gabriel keeps his hair so still before making the dumbfounding realization that he wears that beanie 24/7 and who knows how long he goes without washing his perfect hair. Come to think of it, I don't think I've ever seen the boy without the hat. I guarantee no one would recognize him without it.

"So, where are we heading?" Gabriel asks when we reach the stoplight before entering the populated part of town.

I exhale, leaning my head on the headrest of the seat. "Well, I for one could go for something frozen. Maybe a burger, too."

"Didn't you just eat lunch?" River asks, humorously smiling in my direction.

"And had coffee literally less than an hour ago," Gabe adds.

Sending a blank look to River (whose smile widens) then over to Gabe, his eyes never leaving the stretch of road ahead of him (at least one person in the group can do that), I huff, my eyes shutting closed and I bring my shoulders up into a shrug. "I don't know what you both have against me and my food and drink consumption, but you better knock it off."

There's a small hum of laughter to my right, sending a slight shiver down my neck. "If we left you alone for a week, there's no telling how much you'd put in your system," River tells me as if I don't know that already.

"Yeah, yeah. Alright, Bob and Jillian, I don't need you to berate me."

══════════════════

Twenty minutes later, the three of us find ourselves outside a burger joint. In one hand, I have a burger waiting to be devoured and in the other is a frozen strawberry lemonade. Nothing says summer like this combination. We're sitting the parking lot eating our meals, more specifically in the back of the truck. From my phone, I have a playlist plainly called "Chill" playing from the nearly-blown speakers.

"I never thought food could taste so good," I moan as the burger slides down my throat.

"You're acting like you haven't eaten in a week."

Sending Gabe an eye-roll, I reply, "It might as well have been."

There's a moment of silence before River brings up a topic not discussed in a couple weeks. "Do you guys wanna come over and jam for a bit sometime this week? We haven't done anything in a while."

One summer a few years back, the trio of us learned we can play different instruments. I have been playing the guitar and drums since I was younger, thanks to a musically gifted grandfather. Gabe and River both had a knack for guitar too, though Gabe had more experience with the bass guitar and River had some training with piano. While our jam sessions are nothing too serious, as none of us want to be in a band or write our own songs, it's become a fun and stress-reducing way to hang out when silence would otherwise fill the atmosphere. The last time, we figured out how to play the theme songs of our favorite movies using a ukulele and bongos. It was something I didn't need to hear, but I'm glad I did.

I nod my head. "Yeah, we can this weekend if we aren't being drowned in homework by that point."

Gabe also agrees with a nod, his mouth full of fries. "It's a maybe from me: Mom might need to borrow the truck since hers is wearing down."

River turns his dark brown eyes over to me, capturing an embarrassing scene as lettuce pokes between my stuffed lips. Great. "Well, I guess I can hang out with you if someone can't show."

While I playfully punch his arm, I send a look over to Gabe who hides a smirk in his straw. He catches me looking as River goes on about one of his classes. Sending me a wink, I narrow my eyes knowingly: his mom just got a brand new truck. Mr. Matchmaker goes back to this food, making a statement on how hot River's finance teacher is, causing the boy to make a very uncomfortable face.

Despite the long talks we shared in the back of Gabe's truck, I find myself zoning out hardcore once again. I can't figure out why exactly my mind had wondered, but I do know where. My thoughts go back to Trinity's face, remembering how she would sit next to me against the side of the truck the very few times she decided to make time for my friends. There's a ghost of warmth in my palm like fingers squeezing when the short snippet of a memory expels from deep inside my mind. I don't know why I thought of it. It just appeared, causing a droplet of woe to fill my gut.

Like my friends have told me before, I need to let this go. There's no use in holding on to something, or rather someone who isn't coming back, especially someone who was never good for me in the first place. Glancing up, I spy on River munching and talking with Gabe. A blush covers my cheeks when I remember how utterly embarrassing it was when I broke down in front of him over a stupid girl. He told me there are worse things to worry about.

"Like climate change?" I asked, sniffling into a pillow. I hope he washed it after that encounter. Hell, he needed to lysol everything down after my mopey ass walked through the place.

River smiled warmly at me, pulling me into a giant bear hug. Sometimes, I want to ask for one of those hugs again. "I was going to say people who like pineapple on pizza, but climate change is also a concern."

I remember crying not a second later, but that was due to the thought of polar bears facing extinction.

Contrary to knowing how wonderful my three best friends are, I'm also aware that there are certain things I can't share. I don't want to overbear them with my problems that should have been solved months ago. The fact that I'm still getting small flashbacks and thoughts of her is pathetic, and I'm aware of that fact. On the other hand, it isn't like my group of friends will give up and leave if I spill my guts, right? I shouldn't be scared of expression my thoughts, feelings, and emotions to my closest friends. And yet, here I sit, undecided on what to do.

Christ, do I need to get my priorities straight.

When my eyes break away from their trance, all I see is Gabe and River entering a heated discussion, about what I'm not sure. With my thoughts still in a bit of limbo, I'm shocked back to reality when they both leap from either side of the vehicle, rushing to pull items from their bags.

Under any other normal circumstance, it would be concerning to see two dudes arguing one moment then reaching into their bags the next. I'm willing to bet the next logical calculation for a stranger would have been to get away, fearing the queue for guns or knives. But I know these losers. Even if they are fighting or wanting to kill each other, there is only one way they can settle their differences.

"Soon, you will see the way of the Jedi," River exclaims while thrashing his blue lightsaber through the air.

"Shut the fuck up, you nerd!" Gabe flicks out a red lightsaber, taunting the other.

"Oh, my God," I say with no emotion in my tone, watching as red and blue shamelessly slash at each other in battery-produced light in a burger joint parking lot.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

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starlessskies94 · 4 years

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Herbal Tea (JoelxUnnamed SO)

Joel Miller was getting married.

Now there's something he never thought he'd ever hear again. Much less be the one to suggest the whole damn thing in the first place.

But she was different. After having learned that the two shared many similarities; Joel had unexpectedly found himself so drawn to the woman, he'd eventually ended up spending most of his free time with her.

They were of similar age. Both had a deep love for music and reading. She had taken on the job of smuggling to survive in the early years after the Outbreak, much like Joel had. She was confident and level headed when it came to dealing with infected. Wasn't the biggest fan of coffee but nobody's perfect. And last but not least; to make Joel's mind all made up...she was one of Ellie's favourite people in the whole world.

However this was currently Joel's biggest problem.

He was marrying the woman he loved more than anything...and yet not one single person had told Ellie the news.

It shouldn't have been this hard. At one point talking to Ellie had been so easy for Joel, just open your mouth and speak. But now each opportunity was filled with feelings of guilt and dread. Always putting a foot wrong; saying the wrong thing or just not speaking at all.

It had only been a couple of months since the seventeen year old had found out the truth, but it felt like years. Ellie still hadn't spoken to Joel, except only when she had too and even then the words had been forced, stiff and soaked in venom. He couldn't blame her for being angry. If anything he deserved it for lying to her for as long as he had. Though there were times he did wonder if she more hurt over the fact that he had lied or because of what he'd done. Maybe it was both. Again he couldn't blame her.

He'd known from the beginning it would be hard when she finally learned the truth. His biggest fear was that she'd leave Jackson. When she'd threatened to do so back in Salt Lake City, he'd been forced to give in. Foolishly thinking that just maybe he'd have just a few more years of ignorant bliss. Pretending that everything would work itself out. That maybe they'd be okay.

But Ellie wasn't stupid and Joel knew that. His heart had broken a thousand times over as he witnessed her break down, as she recoiled at his attempt to console her. The hate and hurt in her eyes as she stated they were done and walked away.

Since then he'd stood in the kitchen window or by the back door, just watching and waiting. The gentle melodies drifting through the nights breeze as Ellie played quietly in her room in the yard. So many times he had wished for the confidence to walk over there and knock on her door. To explain? To beg for forgiveness? Joel wasn't even sure anymore. He just wanted Ellie to talk to him. But he also knew he couldn't rush or force this. Ellie would talk to him when she was ready, whenever that would be.

And so he had respected her decision and kept his distance. Continued as normal, as difficult as that had been at first, he'd somehow managed it.

He was sat outside watching the sunset slip passed the tree tops of his freshly trimmed yard. There wasn't much to do on his days off and with his fiance out on a late patrol; it seemed a shame not to take advantage of the opportunity to tidy things up a bit. And if Joel had to admit; he had been putting it off for a while, he thought to himself as he raised his mug to his lips.

"Whatcha' drinking?" A quiet voice asked. A very familiar, very missed voice. He turned in his chair to find Ellie awkwardly stood by the bottom of the steps glancing up at him. Her face not giving away any emotion. He hastily sat up in his seat as his words struggled to form in his mind. Throat closing up and chest tightening. So caught up in the fact that Ellie was finally talking to him, he chose to take a pause of breath before replying. A small fragile smile touching his lips as eyes looked down at the mug in his hands.

"Uh...Herbal tea." Joel said. Quietly chuckling to himself, not quite believing his own words. Though it seemed Ellie didn't either given her confusion at his answer. "But you hate tea." The girl state and he couldn't help his smile again at her comment. "Yeah well, better than nothing. And I couldn't exactly say no when Tommy offered, it's Maria's recipe. Apparently she uses all kinds of herbs, other plants and flowers to make the stuff. Supposed to help with keeping you awake or help you sleep...I don't know, I can't remember."

He was rambling. He knew he was. But this was the longest conversation he'd had with Ellie in over six months. He didn't think he could stop himself from talking even if he wanted to. Eventually he words ran out and all went quiet. Once again giving life to that horrid distance that so rudely placed itself between the two. Even now Joel could see it growing. That invisible bastard that was pulling Ellie further away. He wanted so much to hate it for what it had done to them. But how can you hate something born your own creation? As much as he wanted to tear it away, to pretend it wasn't even there at all. He was the one who had put it there.

He was the reason that warmth in Ellie's eyes was cold every time she looked at him now.

They were still facing one another, neither saying a word but the silence deafening. Ellie signed heavily as she turned to leave, Joel left to accept the conversation was now over. Just pretty damn grateful that she'd stopped to take time to talk to him at all, until she stopped in her tracks and slowly turned back. He said nothing as he watched her cautiously climb the steps towards him, only to stop mid step. One foot left on the lower step behind her while she leaned on the other in front. She glanced up at him and Joel could see the hurt from where he sat.

"I heard you're getting married." The words were quiet, almost a whisper but Joel heard them. Could hear the sadness weighting her voice down, the disappointment and confusion. He stood placing the mug down on the seat as he stepped towards her, his hand reaching out to rest on the railing by the steps. "Yeah...I am." He replied gruffly. "Did...Uh...Did Tommy tell you?" The dread was back as was the guilt. His heart was racing, stomach churning the longer she stared at him. She shook her head and looked down, nervous hands pulling at the sleeves of her jacket.

"No. Dina heard some guys talking about it in the barn this morning." Damn gossips. Joel specifically told Tommy he didn't want the whole town knowing. Wasn't there business anyway. But for Ellie to find out like that...well shit. That wasn't fair. And he wanted to tell her that but the look she gave him stopped him completely. She looked hurt. Betrayed. The tears welling in her eyes pulling at his heart till it ached.

"Why didn't you tell me?" She asked with a broken voice. Just on the edge of breaking into a sob. And Joel was right there with her. All over again wanting to beg for forgiveness. Except this time he caved, in a few strides he was stood beside her. Arms awkwardly hanging by his sides as he fought the urge to pull her into a hug. He didn't think he could take it if she pushed him away a second time. Instead they balled into fists; the frustration getting the better of him as he signed deeply. Eyes now shamefully cast down to his feet. "I wanted too. But I...I guess I wasn't sure how." It was a pathetic excuse and Joel knew that even as the words came out of his mouth. "It's not exactly been all that easy to talk to you these last couple of weeks."

Ellie's eyes narrowed as she scoffed bitterly, her mouth curling into a harsh scowl. "Whatever Joel. Enjoy your fucking wedding!" The girl spat as she turned and stomped back down the steps. Joel cursing himself for once again making things that much worse. But still against his better judgement, he followed her.

"I'd like for you to be there kiddo...if...if you want to." He knew it was a long shot but it made her stop. Frozen in her path back towards her room, her trembling hand just resting on the doorknob. She was angry that much was clear but maybe if Joel was gentle enough, he could get through. Maybe she'd actually hear him out. "It's just I know how well you two get along...She really loves you Ellie. I think it would mean a lot to her if you came."

She didn't move. Not even an inch. And she was quiet so for so long that Joel actually thought at any moment she'd explode into the rage was evidently brewing within her. Instead she just let breathed slowly, silent tears streaking down her face as she glanced back his way.

"I'll go. But this changes nothing Joel. You understand me? Nothing." She didn't give him time to reply as she stepped inside and slammed the door shut behind her. Joel's shoulders dropped as his whole body sagged in sadness. Like a kick to the stomach he felt winded, hopeless and numb. Feeling the heavy weight of his own mind as he nodded in a reply given much too late. He turned and headed back towards the house, forcing himself back up the steps and grabbing his mug as he went through the door into the kitchen. Shuffling towards the sink as he dumped the rest of the green liquid down the sink.

He always hated tea anyway.

#the last of us part 2 #the last of us #The last of us part 2 spoilers #joel miller #ellie williams #joel and ellie #Joel Miller/Reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x oc #fanfiction #Starlesskies writes

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vicarfelix · 4 years

Text

Honest Intentions

Vicar Max x Fem. Reader

Warnings: Language. Smut.

A/N: GOD okay so I wrote this awhile ago and I cannot write smut to save my life. I suck so bad at it, I can’t ever seem to make it long enough, but this was so angsty good that I just couldn’t not post it.

Word Count: 2,155

“The question is, after all this, do you still trust me?”

If she had been in a cartoon, she was sure there would have been a gray, swirling cloud above her head to display her irritation. She couldn’t believe that he had lied to her. A lie. A betrayal of truth. A fib. A dishonest statement. And for what? Just to ensure his chances of her taking him to see some scholar that he didn’t even like? What was the point of that?

She never expected respect from her crew. She didn’t expect it from anybody. However, when she had earned the respect from someone, she expected full honesty in return. This was a total blow to her respect as a captain and trust as a girlfriend. She was unbelievably angry at him, confused even as of to why he wasn’t upfront about his desires. Truthfully, she was really hurt.

Max had lied in order to get her to take him to see Reginald. A former colleague of sorts of his that he needed to see to have his book translated from French. It wasn’t until they found Reginald that it became clear as of to how they even ended up there. Max claimed he couldn’t risk her not bringing him there to find him. He immediately sensed that she was upset. She had every right to be. The sickness in his stomach as a result of the guilt was a testament of that. She had convinced him to leave Reginald Chaney in one piece, refusing to let him lay a finger on him. They got what they needed out of him and left.

The silent trek back to the ship was seemingly everlasting. Her footsteps were heavy on the grounds of the Monarch wilderness as they returned back from Fallbrook. She needed some time to calm down and cool off before speaking to anyone. She was of no use to anybody being this upset. Last thing she wanted was to take her anger out of someone who didn’t deserve it. Max followed a bit further behind than usual, giving her as much space as possible without getting separated. No one said a word on the journey back to The Unreliable. Even Ellie didn’t even try to poke fun at the vicar who would be sleeping in his own quarters for now. It wasn't Max's reaction she was afraid of. It was the captain's.

They finally arrived at the ship long after nightfall, stars dotting the dark night sky. They would be spending the evening in route to Groundbreaker to get supplies and other materials in the morning. She entered the ship first, ADA greeting the returning space adventurers as always.

“Welcome back, Captain.”

She usually smiled in relief upon hearing her voice that signaled a safe return, but she was in no smiling mood. Everybody else had gone to their bunks for the night, which prompted Ellie to go as well. That left the captain and Max in the bay of the ship. The only sounds were the clanks and tinkers as she put away her belongings into the lockers. She couldn’t look at him. She was afraid that she just might lose it. He came up next to her, his voice low and quiet;

“Captain, I-”

“I don’t want to talk.”

He sighed. He wasn’t surprised at her response. He couldn’t figure out if she was speaking to him as his boss or his girlfriend...or both. She whisked away from the lockers and headed to the stairs leading up to her quarters. She just wanted to be alone for a little while and give this some serious thought. She planned on discussing everything with him in the morning. However she realized this was an impossible wish when he followed suit, desperate to get his message across to her;

“If nothing else, please know that I am sorry,” He pleaded, entering after his lover into her room; “I’m aware that I have put a lot of unnecessary stress on you today.”

She scoffed and shook her head incredulously. He didn’t seem to understand how the trust she had put in him had been seriously violated. That’s what made her more upset than anything. It was clear that he wasn’t leaving until this issue was resolved. So, she went off.

“You lied to me, Max. For personal gain,” she hissed; “I don’t like being lied to you.”

She was leaning against the frame of her bed, arms folded over her chest as Max was leaning against her desk. Her demeanor was tense and cold...not a pretty sight to see.

“I know. If it’s any consolation, I lied before I began to care for you...before I loved you. It wasn’t an attempt to break your faith in me.” He admitted.

A surge of energy went to her head, her cheeks heating with rage;

“That doesn’t make it any better. So, you didn’t lie to me as your lover? Fine. You still lied to me as your captain,” She snarled; “At the end of the day, Max, I am still your captain.”

He didn’t want to fight with her He didn’t want her to be angry at him. All he could do was continue to express his apology and hope she'd forgive him. He wasn’t lying when he said he cared about her. About how he loved her. The two of them had each said it once before, so she had to admit it made her heart beat a little faster hearing him say it again.

With this being said, he still had a rampant temper. Regardless of any situation, he didn’t like being talked to this way. He got defensive when others used an unpleasant tone with him. His pleading for forgiveness was beginning to mix with a sear of anger bubbling up in him.

“You are my captain, you will never witness me denying that. I don’t know what you wish for me to do other than tell you, honestly, that I’m sorry.” He replied, his voice getting rather scary; “But might I add that you weren’t so fucking honest at first either.”

All the blood in her body seemed to rush to her face and rapidly back down to her feet. She knew what he was talking about. The fact that the crew went months thinking she was actually Alex Hawthorne when she actually wasn’t. She hadn’t been upfront in the beginning and had lied about her identity. She would always feel a sense of culpability for that.

“I know that. I know that I didn’t tell anyone who I really was, but that was for the sake of my safety as well as everyone else’s. I lied because I had to,” She spat; “You lied for personal reasons. You lied to intentionally distress me and deceive me into doing something for you.”

He rolled his eyes dramatically and the veins in his arms were prevalent as he gripped the edge of the desk. He now felt like she was blowing this out of proportion.

“I wasn’t intentionally trying to hurt you. I would never do that,” He responded; “I lied because I didn’t think you’d take me all over Halcyon just to find some man that might have the answers I was looking for.”

She rubbed her temples with her fingers, feeling as if this conversation was going absolutely nowhere;

“That’s another thing,” She fired off; “What’s going to happen when we get to Scylla and the book gets translated? Will I no longer be of any use to you? Is this going to be over once you find what you're looking for?"

In an instant, his anger lifted and his heart seemed to stop at her words. She watched as a normal color returned to his face. His narrowed eyes and furrowed brows morphing into a softer, borderline concerned look. He stood from the desk and took the half step down from the desk to where she was standing. If there was one thing Vicar Max would never do, it would be that he would never lie about the way he felt about someone.

“Captain, darling, I wouldn’t ever lead you on that way. For any reason whatsoever.” He breathed out gently.

His sudden change in expression ultimately calmed her down as well. She sighed heavily as her judgement cleared. She knew why he really had lied. It wasn't to upset anyone. He had spent his whole life taking roads trying to find answers that ultimately led to a dead end. He was frustrated and disappointed. She could relate to that.

“I just want you to trust me. I want to trust you,” You admitted; “I would’ve taken you to him regardless of who he was. You didn’t have to lie.”

His hands cupped her face, she instinctively cocked her head to further rest her face in his hold.

“I trust you. I always have. I never intended for you to doubt how I feel, because I have been nothing but honest about it. I care about you and I love you.” He confessed; “The question is, after all this, do you still trust me?”

She did. 100% she trusted him. It would probably take a hell of a lot more than him lying about some sketchy prison dude to completely break her faith in him. However, she felt her devious side begin to bubble to the surface. She could totally use this situation to her advantage. Maybe she could get a little bit of a rise out of him in a positive way.

“I don’t know,” She said in an overly teasing tone; “I think a certain vicar is going to have to redeem himself somehow...”

His pupils dilated and his hands that had been by his sides were now slowly fumbling with the button and zipper on her pants.

“Is that so?” He purred in his captain’s ear; “I think I’ve got some ideas.”

In a matter of seconds, she was sprawled on the bed, pants discarded, and his kisses were hot on her neck. She moaned deliciously as his right middle and ring finger dragged across her heating sex, his left hand pinning her arms above her head

“Max...” She breathed out.

Oh, he loved when she said his name. It sent a fiery sensation all through his body. His strong, independent captain begging for him and only him. He was the only person who ever got to see her this way. She managed to break one of her hands free, reaching to unbuckle his own pants. However, he withdrew his hand and stopped her;

“This is all about you, Captain.” He growled.

His lips detached from her skin, he let go of her other arm as well and placed him face just in front of her. Her legs were draped over his shoulders as his tongue licked a heavy stripe and her desperate whimper filled the room. He sucked and kissed as one of her hands was steady on his head to prohibit him from going too far, while the other was pressed against the headboard behind her. It felt like electricity was crackling all through her body as he mercilessly pleasured her.

“Oh, fuck...you’ve got quite the mouth for a preacher,” She tried to laugh, but it came out as another moan.

Obviously this wasn't the first time she had ever been in this situation with him. But it still surprised her every time.

His chuckle vibrated against you, his voice muffled slightly;

“You better fucking believe it.”

He knew her backwards and forwards, which why he put his arm over her waist to keep her from squirming too much. He smirked as he felt her muscles contract against his hold. It was a damn hot sight to see. His face buried between her legs, his tongue and lips working wonders on the woman he adored so much. Normally, he’d hold off on letting her come undone. He’d slow his movements to tantalize her and make her beg. But she deserved what she wanted after today.

“Max, please...” She said feeling her legs begin to shake.

“I’ve got you, love.” He spoke.

Her head fell back onto the pillow as a flash of white covered her vision. Her legs tightened on his shoulders as she crashed over her high. He continued to suck her and work her through it. His name fell from her lips once more as she felt yourself settling back to normal. He grinned once her breathing attempted to slow, he returned to her side. She supposed that she owed him now, but that’d come later.

“Okay, yeah. I forgive you.” She huffed out once her heart slowed.

He laughed genuinely, falling onto the mattress and pulling her close. He was relieved that she was here with him now and that she hadn’t kicked him off her ship. He knew one thing for sure.

He would never lie to her again.

#vicar max #vicar max x reader #vicar max fanfiction #vicar x reader #the outer worlds

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purplehairedwonder · 3 years

Text

Hearts With(out) Chains Chapter 3

Fandom: One Piece Rating: PG-13 Pairings: Gen (eventual Lawlu) Words: 3597 Characters: Trafalgar Law, Violet, Donquixote Doflamingo, Baby 5, Trebol, Diamante Note: I’m taking my turn at the Corazon!Law AU because my brain won’t leave me alone until this is written down. Tags will be updated as the chapters come out.

The story title is based on the Ellie Goulding song “Hearts Without Chains.”

Summary: Law is reclaimed by the Family when he’s 17 and, with Doflamingo holding the lives of his crew as collateral for his good behavior, eventually becomes the third Corazon. Years later, trapped by his impossible situation, Law can’t help but resent Monkey D. Luffy for offering a glimpse of something he’s repeatedly had ripped away from him: hope.

Previous chapters: Prologue | 1 | 2

Read also at AO3 / FF.N

Law stood on the deck of the Polar Tang, Bepo at his side, as the ship ambled into the East Harbor of Dressrosa. While the ship could have remained underwater until much closer to the dock, Law wanted to show Doffy that he wasn’t hiding, so he’d ordered the Tang to surface early. Dressrosa was a country Law could have seen himself enjoying, had Doflamingo not ruled with a façade of generosity and warmth while hiding a dark, cold underbelly. As it was, the sight of the familiar island made his stomach turn.

There was a lone figure waiting at the dock.

“Be careful,” Bepo said as the ship eased to a stop and dropped anchor.

“You too,” Law replied, hopping down from the ship to the dock. He adjusted his grip on Kikoku and greeted his visitor. “Violet.”

“Corazon,” she replied. “Welcome back.”

Law inclined his head and fell into step with her as they headed toward the city. He chanced one final glance back at the Tang—Bepo was securing the ship to the dock—before shifting his focus to the task at hand.

“Did he send you to meet me?” he asked.

“Yes, but I would have come anyway.”

When Law had first arrived in Dressrosa at 17, it had taken some time to find his footing among the Family again after four years. Not only had the operation grown significantly since Spider Miles, but Law’s own reluctance to return after his disappearance with a traitor to the Family hung like a noose around his neck. The executives and officers had been loath to trust him, though Doffy had overruled their concerns, and weren’t shy about taking out their suspicions on him and his crew. For the longest time, the only member of the Family he could stomach being around was Baby 5; they’d picked up their antagonistic but affectionate dynamic almost immediately upon Law’s return, which provided Law a small measure of comfort in its familiarity.

At first after arriving, Law had lashed out—his frustration exploding out of him when he couldn’t contain it any longer, usually as a result of the goading of the other executives—but when Shachi, Penguin, and Bepo had been punished rather than Law himself, he’d withdrawn into himself to protect them. He’d trained and studied and completed missions, but he’d shown little interest in living beyond the minimum required of him, despite the attempts of his friends to pull him out of it. Even Doflamingo had tried without success to bring some life to his protégé—he’d gifted Law Kikoku in the hope that the challenge of mastering a cursed blade might inspire him; he’d mastered the sword, but it hadn’t done much to liven him up.

Despite her wariness of anyone associated with the Family, Violet had been the only one to reach out to Law during his withdrawn period and actually reach him. After about a year into Law’s return, she’d read him often enough for Doflamingo to recognize a kindred spirit in the future Corazon. Three years apart in age, they’d both been shanghaied into the Family’s service due to their useful abilities with the threat of violence against their loved ones hanging over their heads if they were to rebel.

Her cynicism after the fall of her family’s rule was an equal match for Law’s, and they both had dark senses of humor forged from their circumstances. Violet was also well-read and intellectually curious, so their conversations kept Law on his toes. They found comfort in one another, which made life on Dressrosa bearable enough for Law to slowly emerge from his shell.

Though some of the executives and officers had been concerned with a friendship between the two people with the most reason to betray the Family, Doffy had been amused—even pleased. In the last year, he’d floated the idea of the two marrying to tie Dressrosa more formally to the Family; after all, though Doflamingo was a Warlord with government immunity and his own family name tying him to the kingdom, many other kingdoms still considered him an interloper. Having his second married to the former crown princess would be politically advantageous.

“He wants you to read me. To catch me lying,” Law said, coming to a stop. Violet stopped next to him and nodded. “Go ahead then.” He knew she’d need to be able to give Doffy something useful.

Violet frowned. “Are you sure?”

Law just shrugged. “No need to give him more reason to doubt.”

Violet pursed her lips but put her fingers to her eyes and used her Fruit to read Law’s thoughts and memories. After a few moments, she dropped her hands. “The Isle of Women. Really?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Law snorted and started walking again. Violet fell in beside him, her heels clacking on the cobblestones as they made their way toward the distant palace. “All we saw was the coastline. Much to the crew’s disappointment.”

“And you still don’t know why you did it.” Her tone was skeptical.

Law glanced sideways at her. “You read my thoughts, Princess.”

She rolled her eyes, as she always did when he called her that. “You took a serious risk, saving that boy. And for what?”

“That remains to be seen, I suppose.”

“I hope it was worth it,” Violet said, something dark underlying her words.

As they walked, Dressrosans bowed and murmured their names as they passed. Law paid them no mind, though he knew the deference to her alias as an officer of the Family bothered Violet by the tightening of her eyes.

“How’s Doffy been?” Law asked after a few quiet moments.

“Furious,” she replied. “But you already knew that.” She bit her lip briefly, a nervous habit of hers. “His mood has improved since you called a week ago, though.”

“That’s not good.” It meant he’d made a decision about how to deal with Law, and that didn’t bode well for him.

“Doubtful,” she agreed. “But I don’t know what he’s up to.”

Law had once asked her if she’d ever tried using her abilities on Doflamingo, but the look she’d given him in response had been withering. “What kind of fool do you take me for?” she’d demanded.

“And the crew I left behind?” Law asked, dread pooling in his gut. “How are they?”

“Fine, as far as I know.”

The relief that washed over him was short-lived as Law realized it simply meant they would be punished alongside the rest of the crew now that everyone was back.

He nodded stiffly, and they fell into silence once more as they walked. Unlike other silences with the Family, though, it was comfortable. He didn’t have anything to prove to Violet. Once they arrived at the palace, they headed into the courtyard.

“Oh, look who’s back,” Baby 5 said, hand going to her hip as the pair walked in. “It’s about time, Corazon!”

Law rolled his eyes at her. “Did I miss any more ill-fated romances while I was gone, Baby?”

“Shut up!” she snapped around her cigarette. “He needed me!”

Law opened his mouth to retort—the banter familiar and comforting—but he was cut off by his least favorite executive. “Ne, ne, Corazon. Doffy is in the Suit Room. I wouldn’t keep him waiting. Behehe,” he chuckled, clearly pleased that Law was going to face consequences for what he’d done.

Law flipped him off, which only made the slime bucket laugh harder. Taking a steadying breath, Law turned—briefly meeting Violet’s gaze—and headed into the palace toward the Suit Room. Doffy would know of his arrival by now, so Trebol, as annoying as he was, was right about not keeping the king of Dressrosa waiting.

Once he reached the door, Law raised his free hand and rapped on the shut door twice. A moment later, it opened. Law schooled his features and stepped inside. Doflamingo sat by the window, across from the four seats of his top executives.

“I’ve returned, Young Master,” Law said, trying to assess the other man’s mood with little luck.

“Corazon. Come.”

Law made his way to the Heart seat and sat down, resting Kikoku against the chair. When he looked back up, Doflamingo was watching him, expression inscrutable behind those glasses. Law let the part of him that was Corazon take over, pushing the other parts of him aside. This part of him didn’t concern himself with the two men who’d claimed this seat before him or cower in the face of the man who had dominated his nightmares for more than a decade. His back straightened and he raised his chin as the mask slid into place. He also knew better than to speak before the king.

“I trust there were no more… detours on your return home,” Doflamingo said after a pregnant pause.

“No, we made good time,” Law replied evenly.

Doflamingo nodded and pushed himself to his feet. He towered over Law even when Law was standing; when Law was sitting, he was downright dwarfed by the other man. But Corazon, the captain’s second in command, was not bothered by that.

“You’ve caused me quite a bit of trouble with the World Government.” He’d said as much during the call a week earlier. “I’ve smoothed everything over, with no little effort.”

“My apologies, Young Master. It was not my intention to cause you problems.”

Doflamingo stepped into Law’s space, leaning over him. “And what was your intention?” The tension bleeding from that last work was palpable.

Corazon knew the importance of telling the truth in this interaction; still, Law hesitated, knowing Doflamingo wouldn’t like the answer. “I don’t know why I did it. I just acted.”

Doflamingo leaned over, placing his massive hands on the arms of the Heart seat, enclosing Law in his presence. “You don’t know,” he repeated, as if testing the words to see how they tasted. “You just acted.” His features tightened. “That doesn’t sound like you, Corazon.”

“I know.” Law preferred to plan for every contingency, plans on top of plans and every possibility considered before he made a move—all the years of evening games of chess with Doflamingo had drilled into him the importance of tactics—but he’d thrown all of that out for a feeling.

“You know I don’t like questioning the loyalty of my subordinates—especially my righthand man.”

“I know.”

“And yet,” he went on, as if Law hadn’t spoken, “how I can do anything but when my second comes out of the sea to save not one but two enemies of the World Government from the battlefield?”

“I will accept the consequences of my actions,” Law said, doing his best to keep his voice even. “My loyalty has not changed.”

Doflamingo stepped back, huffing a wry laugh. “Now that I believe.” He shook his head to himself. “Get yourself cleaned up. We’re taking a trip this evening.”

Law blinked in surprise at the sudden dismissal but nodded. “Yes, Young Master.” He grabbed Kikoku and rose. He was halfway to the door when his haki flared and he felt the air shift. But he was too slow in reacting.

A massive hand pressed suddenly against the back of his neck, shoving him forward into the closed door. Law let out a startled gasp as the air left his chest. Doflamingo draped himself over Law’s back, his lips by Law’s ear. Law did his best to suppress his instinct to fight back.

Doflamingo’s breath was warm and moist on Law’s skin as he murmured, “It wouldn’t be appropriate for the rabble to see an executive punished. But I can’t let insubordination stand either.”

Law’s breath hitched as Doflamingo spun him around so his back was pressed against the door. The hand that had been holding him immobile wrapped around his throat. It squeezed, cutting off Law’s breath. Law’s eyes widened and his free hand clawed at Doflamingo’s wrist on instinct, but the Warlord continued to squeeze. Black encroached on Law’s vision as his lungs screamed for air. His head spun and Kikoku slipped from his weaking grip.

Finally, when Law thought he would pass out, Doflamingo released him.

Law gasped greedily for air as his legs gave out from under him and he brought both hands to his neck, wincing at the tenderness. Once his breath had returned to semi-normal, he looked up at Doflamingo.

“Never forget who holds your life and the lives of your crew, Law.” Again, he’d purposefully used Law’s name. “Now go clean yourself up.”

Law took a steadying breath and nodded. He grabbed Kikoku and used her to push himself unsteadily to his feet. “By your leave, Young Master,” he croaked, throat feeling like he’d swallowed broken glass, as he opened the door and stumbled into the hallway toward his room.

-----

Viola entered the Suit Room when Doflamingo summoned her; his meeting with Law must have ended already, as he was alone. She kept her eyes on the usurper as she approached, knowing why she had been summoned. She stopped a respectable distance in front of the Warlord.

“Doffy,” she greeted, bowing her head.

“Violet. You read Corazon upon his arrival.” It wasn’t a question.

“I did.” She’d been ordered to do so, and she followed her orders to keep her family safe.

“He says he doesn’t know why he saved Straw Hat.” Again, it wasn’t a question. Still, he was expecting an answer.

“True,” Viola confirmed. In Law’s memories, she’d felt the tug in his chest that had guided him, but he hadn’t understood what it was or what it was telling him. “He acted on instinct.”

Doflamingo frowned, looking out the window. “It’s not like him.”

“He’s been wondering about his actions since that day,” Viola said, hoping she might buy Law even the smallest amount of leniency if she confirmed his story. She kept the truth of Law’s name and its connection to the other boy to herself, though. He’d confided in her about that secret name years earlier and the danger he would be in if Doflamingo found out about it.

“Where was he?”

“Amazon Lily.” She couldn’t say she didn’t know something so prominent in his memories. “Boa Hancock seems to have a soft spot for Straw Hat Luffy.”

Doflamingo barked a surprised laugh at that. “Interesting.” He seemed to file that information away for later. “And his loyalty?”

“Unchanged.”

That much was true; Law, like Viola herself, hadn’t been truly loyal to the Family since she’d known him, but his desire for the safety of his crew and his willingness to do whatever it took to protect them had been a constant since he was 17 and newly arrived in Dressrosa. Saving Straw Hat Luffy hadn’t changed that.

Doflamingo smiled, but there was no warmth in it. “It seems he was honest with me, then.” He glanced back at Viola. “Keep an eye on him. Shouldn’t be hard since he enjoys your company.”

Viola frowned at the implication but quickly schooled her expression. “Of course.”

-----

When Law reached his room, he found his belongings had already been brought up from the Polar Tang. As he shucked off his clothes and hopped in the shower, he wondered where his crew was. Had they been allowed to return to their rooms? Shaking his head, he washed the travel from his skin and hair. Once clean, he wrapped a towel around his waist, and, on the way back into his room, caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror.

He grimaced, fingers lightly tracing the already-purpling marks on his neck. He knew the marks would be visible for days, and his voice would be rough for about as long. He could use his powers to accelerate the healing, but that would defeat the entire point of the exercise, and Law knew better than that.

Executives had to appear above reproach in the eyes of the public to keep up the illusion of their absolute power, so Doffy couldn’t punish him publicly, but the evidence of punishment would show Law’s actions had been dealt with. But Law also knew some ugly bruises around his neck wouldn’t be the only punishment; at this point, however, he could only worry about what would be done to his crew, as they were Doffy’s primary means of keeping Law in line.

With a scowl, he returned to his room and pulled some clothes nicer than his typical jeans and a hoodie that Doflamingo insisted he have for formal events from his closet. The fabric was light since Dressrosa was a summer island, and Law made sure not to choose anything that would cover his neck; Doflamingo, sadist that he was, would want his handiwork on display.

Grabbing Kikoku, Law gave himself a final once-over; satisfied, he left his room. He’d just turned the corner when he nearly ran headfirst into Baby 5. She opened her mouth, undoubtedly to snarl something unkind at him, but the words died on her lips as her gaze dropped to Law’s neck. Her eyes widened.

“What?” Law demanded, hating the rasp in his voice.

Baby shook herself before looking Law in the eye again. “The Young Master told me to find you. He’s waiting in the courtyard.”

Law frowned at that. He could have sensed Doffy himself with his haki; there was no reason to send Baby as a messenger—except to make sure she saw Doffy’s handiwork up close. Law ground his teeth but nodded at Baby.

“Thanks.”

She gaped at him as he stepped past her. “Seriously?”

Law paused with a tired sigh. “What?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Since when do you thank me, Corazon?”

Law rolled his eyes. “It won’t happen again if that’s the reaction I’m going to get.” He made to start walking again.

“Wait.”

Law stopped and looked at her expectantly. Baby swallowed and reached a tentative hand toward his neck. Law flinched but didn’t stop her gentle touch to the purpling handprints. Her fingers were ghost-light as she touched the marks.

“Are you okay?” she asked quietly.

Law looked away, unable to deal with the genuine concern in her expression. “I’m fine.”

“Cora— Law.”

Law started and looked back at Baby. What was with people using his name lately? “What?”

“Just. Be careful. I don’t know why you did what you did, but the Young Master…” She trailed off, biting her lip.

Law took Baby’s hand in his grip, gently pulling it away from his neck, and nodded. “I know,” he said, not unkindly. He let go of her hand.

Baby dropped her hand and watched him, uncertain.

“I shouldn’t keep Doffy waiting,” Law said, and Baby jerked.

“Damn right, asshole,” she said, though her voice lacked any heat.

Law’s lips twitched and he headed for the courtyard, feeling Baby’s eyes on his back. When he entered the courtyard, Doflamingo appraised him. When he was satisfied with what he saw, gaze noticeably lingering on Law’s throat, he rose from his seat.

“There you are, Corazon. Come, we’re going out.”

Law nodded, ignoring Trebol’s knowing look. He didn’t speak, not wanting the sentient snot to hear his broken voice, instead simply falling in a half step behind Doflamingo, the appropriate place for his second. A carriage was waiting just outside the palace gates, and the two men entered and took their place across from one another.

Law remained silent as the royal carriage wound its way through the familiar streets of the capital, looking out the window and considering the direction they were taking.

“You haven’t asked where we’re going,” Doflamingo finally commented.

Law turned to the king. “Would you have answered?”

Doflamingo smirked, and Law had a feeling at least part of his amusement was at the sound of his voice. “No,” he allowed. “It’s a surprise.”

Law nodded, having assumed as much. He returned his gaze to the window, though his thoughts were with his crew and not the city they were meandering through. Violet had said Ikkaku, Clione, and Uni were unharmed, but how much longer would that last? What had happened to the rest of his crew once they’d disembarked the Polar Tang?

He was pulled from his thoughts when the carriage came to a halt. Law blinked when he realized where they were.

Law looked back at Doflamingo with a sinking feeling that he couldn’t explain. “The Colosseum?”

Doflamingo simply nodded and gestured toward the carriage door. “Let’s go.”

Law had little choice but to do as he was bidden, so he followed Doflamingo out of the carriage. The king was in his element as he greeted his adoring public. Law fell into place behind the other man and followed him inside to the king’s private box.

His hackles went up when he saw Diamante waiting inside the box. The executive gave Law an appraising look before nodding at Doflamingo. “Doffy,” he greeted. “Everything is ready.”

“Good.”

Doflamingo sat and nodded for Law to take the seat to the king’s right. Law did as he was bidden, and Diamante took his place to Doffy’s left. Law looked out over the amphitheater to see, as usual, a large crowd of raucous citizens. The Corrida Colosseum was the premier entertainment in Dressrosa, after all.

“Welcome to this special event at the Corrida Colosseum!” the commentator, Gatz, announced. “Today, we will see fighters from around Dressrosa get the opportunity to earn their freedom or even join the Donquixote Family by defeating a member of Corazon’s own crew, the Hearts!”

Next chapter

#Caitlin's fic #Two chapters in a week #Who am I?#I really love this chapter so wanted to post ASAP #Trafalgar Law #Donquixote Doflamingo #One Piece #One Piece fic #One Piece fanfiction

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labyrinth-runner · 4 years

Text

How Wonderful Life Is

The Greatest Thing Chapter 11

Christian x OC

Moulin Rouge fanfic

Read the rest here

Estelle spent the next couple of days writing letters to send ahead to Annalise so that they could fool her father. She loved to watch Christian work away at his typewriter while she did this. The way his brow would crinkle as he searched for the right word or the way he scrunched his nose when something didn't sound right made her smile. Oh, how she had missed that face. When he wasn't writing, he was at rehearsal. At first, she had been hesitant to go along with him, due to the stares that she would get from some of the performers, but as she got to know them better she was more comfortable with them. She'd swap stories with them about Poppy and life on Grub Street, and in return, they taught her some romantic phrases in French that always seemed to make Christian blush.

One day, she was pulled aside by the owner of the Moulin while they were rehearsing.

"Mademoiselle, I don't know how to accurately thank you," he murmured.

"Thank me?" she asked in confusion, "Whatever for?"

"I was beginning to lose hope about this production," he explained, "He was having such a hard time writing it that I worried it would never get done. We've revamped the entire building for this. I couldn't afford for it not to happen. But now, since you've shown up, it might actually happen."

Estelle blushed, "Yes, well, you can count on Christian."

"Non, ma petite. I can count on you," he winked before leaving.

"It's true," a voice said from behind her.

Estelle turned to see another one of the performers, Nini, standing behind her.

"For all her feminine wiles," Nini said with an eye roll, "Satine couldn't get him to focus. Everyone wants a writer to write them sonnets and go on with all the bullshit about how they love them and can't imagine a world without them, but she just made the mistake of picking a taken writer."

"I can assure you that Christian was not taken," Estelle replied.

"Not with her," Nini corrected, "He was still taken with you. You should've seen him moping around here like a lost puppy when the novelty wore off and the homesickness came in. He was going on and on about how he never knew it was possible to be homesick for a person. Quite pathetic, if you ask me, but a less realistic woman would call it sweet I suppose."

"I suppose," Estelle said with a small smile.

"Have you seen much of Paris since you got here?" Nini asked, leaning on the balcony next to Estelle.

"Regrettably, no. We've spent so much time up in his apartment working on the play," Estelle replied.

"Is that what you're calling it?" Nini teased.

"Oh, no, we haven't... I-I mean," Estelle started to stammer.

"But you want to," Nini winked.

"It would ruin my reputation," Estelle sighed.

"Honey, if you're hiding here, your reputation is already in question," Nini laughed. "But... Paris is the city of love. Perhaps you should take advantage of that."

"How do you suggest I do that?" she asked.

"Take him to the Eiffel Tower. It's quite beautiful at night. You can see the city in a new way... and maybe he'll see you in a different light, too," Nini said pointedly.

Estelle blushed, "Why are you helping me?"

"Because you're sweet, he's sweet, it's a good match," she smiled before dropping her voice and looking down at where Satine was on the stage below, "Besides... it's nice to see her not always get everything she wants."

Estelle followed her gaze before looking over at Christian. Did Satine want him? She cleared the thought from her head. Even if Satine wanted him, she knew she had Christian's heart. Their love had withstood distance, years, and society. It could handle a courtesan. She was pulled from her reverie by a set of arms encircling her from behind.

"Darling, you seem pensive," Christian murmured, kissing her temple. "Should I be worried?"

"Not at all, my love," she said, turning a bright smile to him. "Should I be worried?" Estelle nodded her head towards Satine.

"Of course not," Christian said adamantly, turning Estelle to face him completely. "Darling, the only person I want to be with is you. I can feel that in every fibre of my being. Things... things have never been better," he admitted.

"Is that so?" Estelle asked, reaching up to cup his cheek.

Christian leaned into her touch, turning his head slightly to kiss her palm. "Ellie... Every day I try my best to put into words how wonderful life is now you're in this world with me here. You're my star."

Estelle blushed and looked down. "Rehearsal is over?"

"For me it is," Christian smiled, sliding his arm around her waist. "Shall we go home?"

"Actually..." Estelle started gently. "I was wondering if we could go see some of the sights? Nini told me about the Eiffel Tower. I would very much like to see it. Well, visit it, really since I've certainly seen it from far away."

"Of course. I think that would be a splendid idea," he replied, offering her his arm to escort her.

When they made their way outside, they procured a carriage to take them across the city. The atmosphere was already different as they found themselves closer and closer to the Seine. While the area around the Moulin Rouge was bustling and loud, this area was peaceful. The lights were still on as they passed by, however it was relatively quieter in comparison. The carriage came to a stop across the street from the towering monument and Christian stepped out of the carriage to help Estelle out.

"It's more imposing in person," Estelle murmured as she looked up at the tower.

"The view from the top must be incredible, though," Christian replied.

Together, they walked the short distance to the lifts, taking them up as far as they could go until they would have to complete the rest of the journey on foot. As they ascended, they were able to see more and more of the city below. Once at the top, the world stretched out around them in every direction like they were a buoy in a sea of lights. The wind whipped at them and Estelle pulled her shawl tighter. What had been warm enough to leave the house in the early months of fall was barely keeping her warm in this moment. Christian came up behind her to shield her from the wind, holding her close against the railing to offer her some of his body heat.

"It's mesmerizing," Estelle said in awe.

"It is," Christian agreed.

"I don't know if I've ever seen a more beautiful sight."

Christian looked down at the woman in his arms and blushed, "I have."

Estelle turned her attention to the sky above them and frowned. "You can't see the stars."

"Sometimes, the light from the city competes with the heavens and you lose the stars," he explained.

"Is it worth the sacrifice?" she asked.

"To vanquish the darkness away, perhaps it would be a fair trade," he replied.

"But at what cost?" she asked. "When you have the natural beauty of the heavens, wouldn't it make sense to want to preserve that? To live amongst the starlight? After all, stars have been used for navigating. Without them, we all could be lost."

"Yet, sometimes the stars can't be seen. If the clouds block out the light from the stars, then you'd live your life in darkness. By having lights, you ensure that you will never be left in the dark again," Christian replied.

"Enlightenment versus the natural order," Estelle smirked.

"Something like that," Christian chuckled, running his hands up and down Estelle's arms. "Ellie, your lips are turning blue. Perhaps we should go."

"I suppose you're right," she sighed, allowing him to lead her back down to the lifts and to the ground. The two of them walked along the Seine, not quite ready to go back home. The gentle sound of the rushing water was a calm backdrop as they walked in silence, each in their own thoughts.

"Ellie, I've been thinking about what you were saying about the stars and I've come to a conclusion," Christian said suddenly.

"And what might that be, Mr. Thompson?" she asked in amusement.

"That as much as I enjoy living in the light, I don't want to lose the star that guides me home," he told her, stopping to take her hand.

Estelle's brow furrowed in confusion. "Christian, what are you saying?"

"I want to do what I should have done in London," he said seriously. "I would like to court you."

Estelle blushed in the glow of the streetlights. "Christian, aren't we a little passed that? I do live with you."

"Yes, but, I want to make it official. I want you to know my intentions," he said sincerely. He took her hand and kissed her knuckles. "Darling, I want to marry you someday when we're not lying to your family."

Estelle felt her heart skip a beat. "I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought of the prospect of being your wife."

"Is that a yes?" he asked with a grin.

"Yes, Mr. Thompson, I shall allow you to court me," she said with a serious air of formality before breaking out in a grin.

Christian's smile widened and he scooped her up in her arms, playfully spinning her in the air while she laughed. When her feet touched the ground once more, her chest was against his as her hands rested just below his shoulders. Estelle tipped up on her toes to press her lips against his, no longer shy about her affection. Christian's arms tightened around her, crushing her against him as he returned the kiss with fervor. When they broke for air, they wore matching smiles of glee. Nothing could bring them down in this moment.

"Take me home, Christian," she breathed.

"Gladly."

#Christian x OC #christian moulin rouge #Moulin Rouge #The Greatest Thing

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blueyesandleatherjacket · 4 years

Text

A Taste Of Christmas, 1/6

Volume: 1.

Number of parts: 1/6.

Pairings: Metacrisis Nine x Rose.

A/N: Sequel for The Summertime Of Our Lives. Written for doctorroseprompts' fall fic bingo and ficmas challenge. Fall fic bingo: Mist, Jumper, Spice, Gold, Paint and Cider. Ficmas challenge: Workshop (D1), Tinsel (D2), Cider (D3), Tree (D4), Ugly Sweater (D8). Tagging @thebookster on her demand.

“Christmas is a time when you get homesick - even when you're home.” - Carol Nelson.

CHAPTER 1:

Rose was an artist. The Doctor had always known it. One day, she had forgotten her sketchbook on the pilot seat and he had flipped through it while she was asleep in her room, somewhere in the TARDIS. There were several drawings inside, drawings of him, drawings of her, drawings of them. She had spent a lot of time studying him, studying his faces, studying his bodies and his every gesture and she had drawn it all in her sketchbook. He had kept a page, had taped it on the wall of his bedroom in the TARDIS. The other hm was probably looking at it every time he was getting in his room. Or had he forgotten about her? Was he refusing to even think about her now that they were forever separated? That was what he would have done. Rose Tyler had brought him back to life when he only aspired to die and fate – with the faces of Daleks and Cybermen and new Doctor – had ripped her away from him. And it had reunited them in the most unexpected way years later. Their story was art too. He was a broken person. He was broken in so many pieces that sticking them back together to recreate the man he had once been before the war was impossible. Yet, the brave and compassionate Rose Tyler had taken the pieces she could find and had assembled them together. Instead of trying to reproduce something she had never known, she created a new version of him and added colours to his dull dark world. She was done just in time for him to regenerate into this pretty boy who forgot how to take care of her or how to cherish her. This time, she had been the one who was shattered beyond repairs and no one was there to help her. Her family had let her down slowly. They had thought that as a responsible adult, she could handle the situation and she had thought so too. Working on finding him – the other version of him – had kept her busy but the many failures had weakened the already fragile shell she had built around herself. She hadn’t given up on art as he found out after his arrival in this universe. Her flat had a couple of frames on the wall from artists that never made it in in their original universe and there was one of hers. An original production called “Night sky from Barcelona”. He had never taken her there with this face. The pretty boy did. Yet, it wasn’t him standing next to her under the starry sky. It was him with his leather jacket and short-cropped hair. It was his back and it was his hand holding hers. All this time she had been wanting him back. The broken, brooding soldier. It had taken him some time to accept this truth but the events of last summer had convinced him of it. It had been a long path. Now they were as happy as they could be. Which wasn’t an easy task when you had Jackie Tyler as stepmother. When she had found out about their matching tattoos and the meaning behind, she had completely lost her mind. He had never been so insulted and slapped in all his life. They had settled down in Broadchurch. After the end of the summer, they had gone back to London and the Doctor had soon dived back into his old quirks: pacing around the house, refusing to eat, depressing, stressing and having troubles to sleep. The town was having a terrible effect on him because of everything that had happened there in their original universe and for Rose, it was obvious that they couldn’t live in London anymore. It hadn’t been long to find a house thanks to their new friends – mostly Ellie Miller – help. Before the end of October, they were settled down in their new and cosy place in the heights of Broadchurch with a nice viewpoint on the cliffs and the sea. That had been an important point for the Doctor: having a viewpoint on the infinity of the world. This was reassuring him. The world was bigger on the outside. During all November, Rose had watched him as he sat in front of the large patio door and observed the waves crashing on the shore. As it was getting deeper into the autumn season, it would get darker earlier and mist would cover the land plunging the land in the creepy atmosphere of horror movies. Rose never got the right to go out when it was dark and misty. At least, she couldn’t go alone. He was insisting on going with her. She had proven her bravery and her fearless attitude by traveling by his side, by working with Torchwood to get back to him but he was firm in his decision to accompany her out whenever the mist was spreading. She had missed this overprotective side of his when he changed and even as a former kid from the Estates who had grown in a strong and independent woman, she liked this particularity of his. She had stopped working for Torchwood shortly after their summer vacations. The Doctor still didn’t what was the reason behind such a mystery around the agency. He wanted to nose around, to find out what was so wrong with them and he actually was doing it behind Rose’s back. The only fact that they had led experiences on her convinced him that they were doing wrong and had to be stopped. Obviously, this wasn’t without danger and it was harder to operate without access, without a TARDIS, without a trustworthy companion. Rose would lecture him if she was told what he was doing and he knew no one else that could travel and work with the way he used to be working with her. He doubted he would have taken any other companion on board if Rose had still been around. She was the best. As were Jack, Martha and Donna. But Rose was Rose. His Rose had given up on her job for him. She was unemployed because of him. Broadchurch was a small town and it was hard to find a proper job. She tried the police, the Broadchurch Echo, the schools – Torchwood had had the advantage to have trained and given her the proper diplomas – and every little job she could find in the classified ads but she never got anything. He had suggested her to try and make a living of her art. From them on, he had sort of lost her. Together, they had sacrificed a large room of their house and turned it into a workshop where she could unleash her creativity. It was already filled with loads of artistic materials he didn’t even know they had. Now, she was spending all her time in this room while he got lost in his thoughts in front of the patio door. Not a normal relationship, but they were far from normal. Today, he wasn’t in the living room. He was in the kitchen. Rose hadn’t checked on him in a while, and neither had he gone to check on her. He was concocting spiced cider from a recipe he had found in a local magazine. From the tiny drops he had licked on his fingers, it didn’t taste bad. It even sounded really good. Why had he never tested the whole cooking world before? Domestics. He was refusing the domestics he was now doing. Also, he had had other preoccupations in mind back then. But the pretty boy’s eccentricity and Donna’s seek for a family were running in his veins now. Admitting his feelings for Rose was an opening on this life and he honestly didn’t regret it. He was living the life he thought he would never have with the woman he thought would never love him and he couldn’t happier than that. The Doctor added the final touch to his drink and poured some in two glasses he took to Rose’s workshop. He knocked on the door. Got no answer. Rose surely was working with her Pods on. In this world, there weren’t such things as headphones. They were selling small round devices you were placing behind your ears. They were analysing your musical tastes from the information given by your brain and creating a whole playlist according to them, to your mood, to your current activity. It was totally obliterating the world around you and you could hear the music straight in your head. Great technology, but it also was increasing the percentage of unsolved crimes. With people being deaf to their surroundings, it was easier to rob, destroy and kill without being heard. It was also easier to get hit by a vehicle in the streets. Thankfully, Rose was using them when she was in her workshop and only when he was home. Opening the door confirmed what he thought: Rose had her back on him and soft green dot was blinking behind her ears. The room was a real mess. There was a tarpaulin covered with paint stains of all colours on the ground; on the wall on his left, there were empty and unused frames, blank and used canvas of all sizes. On the wall facing the door, there was a long table – actually the table was composed of planks on trestles – that was weighting down under the numerous and various art supplies. Boxes with their contents written in large black letters were stacked under the makeshift table. The third wall of the room was taken by easels and other boxes. Rose wasn’t only painting. She was doing all sorts of art including manual works. This explained the different materials lying around the floor, the glue gun in her hand, the brush and pen stuck on her ears. She had an old apron tied around her waist. An apron that had definitely seen better days and many artworks. He put the glass of warm spiced cider on the free and safe area of the table. Rose hadn’t seen or heard him coming. The sudden move beside her and the hand appearing next to her caused her to start and she was gonna attack when she realised it was him. She slapped his shoulder and switched off her Pods. He just smiled at her messy bun, at the paint on her face, at the unfinished work before her. “You scared the shit out of me, you idiot!” “Oi! I have nothing of an idiot!” “My clever idiot.” “Take that back.” “My handsome clever idiot.” “This won’t work.” The Doctor was playing offended but Rose’s messy look and the golden flakes spread all over her hair, cheeks and hands were quite funny. It reminded him of the golden light surrounding her, burning in her eyes, when she came back for him that day. A terrible, terrible day. His fingers brushed over her face, wiping away the flakes stuck on her cheek. He was always having nightmares of that day. He remembered all too ell the molten lava when he absorbed the Vortex that he was killing her, the cells of his body dying one after another, slipping into another skin and losing everything and everyone he loved, watching through new eyes what he could have lived, watch his new self screw up everything with Rose, the rage and pain of losing her and moving on, the joy and fear to be born again, the rejection and terror of a new limited human life, the doubts eating him out and the dread of losing Rose or himself one day. Her hands found his face. She cupped his cheeks, spreading flakes on his skin, rubbed her nose against his softly. She had sensed his change of mood. She had seen it in his eyes. His memories had come to bother him when they were playfully arguing. She didn’t know the cause of this sudden mood swing, and she didn’t care at the moment. She just wanted him back. “The golden flakes suit you well,” she joked. She rubbed her hands on his face and ran her fingers through his hair to share her flakes with him. Of course this wasn’t gonna please him. He was no man to go around with golden flakes everywhere. He had a bit of an ego and was quite a macho man. He did nothing that could make people question his masculinity. Even if the concept of masculinity and femininity were slightly different in this universe. After over 900 years of living by the same rules and concepts, it was hard to let go of them. “You know what would be great?” She let go of him and rummaged through the many boxes stacked under the table. A couple of them had the mention ‘Christmas’ on it and that’s naturally where she found what she was looking for. She pulled out a blue tinsel and wrapped it around his head like a crown. “Oh, what about a jumper too?” “Blue to go with my eyes?” “If you want. As long as it’s one of those ugly Christmas sweaters.” “No way. Don’t wanna be ridiculous, me.” “Though you feel ridiculous already.” “Maybe.” “How do you feel with that tinsel on your head?” “Like your human Christmas tree. And according to this beautiful wooden Advent calendar, I suppose you miss the holiday.” “This is stupid.” Rose humphed and hit the table with her fist. She caught the glass of cider before it spilled on her work. That was the first time she noticed it. The Doctor had one in his hands too. She took a sip. Took another. Licked her lips. That tasted amazing. She had been too young and too busy to have some in her original universe and this one had a very different way to celebrate the cold season…

To be continued...

×××

English version:

AO3 || TS.

#doctor who #doctorroseprompts #ninth doctor #metacrisis ninth doctor #rose tyler #doctor x rose #prompt fulfilment #31 days of ficmas #fall fic bingo #a taste of christmas

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theycallmebeccawrites · 5 years

Text

Chris & Ellie Series: Episode 16

With Tumblr holding my original writing blog @beccaheartschrisevans captive (aka flagged as explicit), I have made a secondary writing blog and may end up closing the other all together. In the meantime, I am reposting all of my stories on my new blog.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Ellie Spencer (OFC)

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: language, suggestive

Episode Summary: This episode takes place in February 2014 and is Chris making good on his bet for the Super Bowl between the Seattle Seahawks and Denver Broncos.

Disclaimer: This work of fiction is not to be reposted, used or translated without my permission.

This episode can also be read on AO3.

The Chris and Ellie series is primarily chronological. It begins with a flash forward to 2016 and has a few other scenes in the future. However, the majority of their story is told in chronological order starting in 2013 and going through 2017. Each episode starts with a date to help you place it within the story.

The Chris & Ellie Series Masterlist | Chris & Ellie Masterlist

Episode 15

Episode 16: Super Bowl XLVIII

February 2, 2014

The sun was already up and making its presence known around the edges of the curtains, when Ellie woke up. Not ready to get out of bed, she rolled over with the thought of trying to fall back asleep, but the idea left her when she saw that Chris was still in bed with her. He was lying on his back and had kicked away most of the covers during the night, leaving just the sheet covering the lower half of his body.

Ellie bit down on her lower lip as she fought the temptation to reach out and touch him. Looking back at the clock on her nightstand, she saw that it was already 9:30 and she knew they had a full day ahead of them, not to mention the fact that they'd been up late the night before. It was only the knowledge that her cousin would be there in an hour to pick her up for brunch and she still had to take a shower that forced Ellie from her bed and into the bathroom.

Last night, prior to them retiring to her bedroom for the night, she and Chris had worked with Scott to clean the big house for the Super Bowl party they were throwing. Not wanting a repeat of the football kick off party, Ellie had created a to do list on the way home from the bed and breakfast last weekend. Getting all of the cleaning done on Saturday, had been the first time on said list.

Unbeknownst to her, however, Chris had his own list and getting her out of the house was on the top of it. It hadn't been until last night that he had let her know that he had other plans for how Super Bowl Sunday would go. He'd lured her from the big house for a date night of pizza, beer and a movie in the guesthouse.

It wasn't until after the movie had ended that he had informed her that while he was putting the finishing touches on the party, she would be having brunch with her cousin. She'd hammered him with questions, after that, but he had refused to give her any more information. Not even after she'd given him a mind-blowing blow job. In the end, he had distracted her from the plans for Super Bowl Sunday by giving her a couple fantastic orgasms that had left her legs feeling like jelly and her body beautifully sore.

Even now, as she washed in the shower, she came across tender bits of flesh where he'd dug his fingers into her a little too hard while in the throes of passion. She didn't mind though, especially not after she'd played doctor when they'd gotten home last Sunday and had tended to all the scratches she'd left on his back from their various rounds of lovemaking.

Last night had been the first time they'd slept together since they'd left the bed and breakfast. Between work, hanging with Scott and everything else, there just hadn't been time for more than a few minutes here or other together and neither of them had wanted to rush anything so they'd waited.

Shutting the water off, Ellie squeezed as much water out of her hair as she could with her hands then reached out and grabbed her towel. She dried off and then used the towel to get more water out of her hair. Since she didn't have time to dry it completely, she opted for a side braid that made it easier to deal with.

When she stepped out of the bathroom, a few minutes later, Chris was gone, but he'd left a note sitting on the end of her bed.

Morning. We'll talk when you get up to the big house.

She quickly got dressed, opting for a pair of jeans and a nice shirt, knowing she'd change into her Seahawks shirt later. When she got to the kitchen in the big house, she found Scott and Chris eating donuts. Shaking her head, she grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and opened it.

"Don't judge us," Scott said his mouth full of jelly donut. "We need the sugar to get everything done this morning."

"I know and I appreciate your hard work," Ellie said with a smile. "I'll make sure we don't take too long at brunch."

"Don't hurry yourselves," Chris replied. "I already told your cousin that you can't be back here until after one o'clock."

Ellie froze with the water bottle almost to her lips. Lowering it, she looked at Chris and said, "But it's my party."

"Yes, it's your party, but I'm the host," Chris argued. "You're the guest of honor. Which means, all you do is show up."

"But the food -"

"It's being catered."

"The decorations -"

"Scott showed me where you've been stashing your Seahawks decorations and we have plenty of help to put it up and it's not just Scott and myself doing the decorating."

"So what am I supposed to do after brunch?" Ellie asked him as the buzzer for the front gate went off.

"I'll go let Phoenix in," Scott offered as he got up and all but ran from the room.

"Knowing who you'll be with, maybe manicure and pedicure? Or shopping?" Chris suggested. "You have your credit card, you can use that."

"What will your accountant think of that?" Ellie asked. "It's not exactly a household expense."

"It's making good on a bet," Chris replied with a shrug. "And I trust you not to go too crazy."

"I still don't like this," Ellie told him as they heard Scott greet someone. "Why can't I -"

"Hi Izzy," Chris said, looking at something over Ellie's shoulder.

"Don't try and dis -" Ellie started, but spun around when she heard her sister say, "Hey Chris."

Upon seeing her sister, Ellie squealed and ran over to her. She wrapped her arms around Izzy and asked, "What are you doing here?"

"I'll explain in the car," Izzy replied. "Come on, we're going to be late."

Speechless, Ellie took her purse that Chris held out to her and followed Izzy out to the car where Phoenix was waiting for them.

"Surprise!" Phoenix sang when they got in and closed the doors.

It was over brunch that Ellie learned that Izzy's boss had given her the day after the Super Bowl off after discovering that she was from the Northwest and had grown up a Seattle Seahawks fan. With football as popular as it was in Texas, her boss had made the offer in case she'd wanted to go home to watch the game with her family and friends. She'd taken him up on the offer, obviously, and had come to LA to be with Ellie upon discovering, from Scott, what Chris was planning.

Despite both her sister and cousin seemingly in on Chris's plan, Ellie couldn't get either of them to tell her what he else he had up his sleeves. Thankfully, they'd both kept her distracted after brunch; first, dragging her to a walk-in nail salon to get manicures and pedicures and then dragging her to an outlet mall to shop. They even managed to talk her into buying a couple nice dresses and new undies to wear under them.

By the time they got back to the house, it was nearly two o'clock and Izzy offered to take Ellie's stuff to the guest house as they got out of the car. Ellie accepted the offer and followed her sister in the house, freezing in the doorway when she saw that Chris had found more Seahawks and Super Bowl decorations than she had. He and Scott had hung decorations in the entry hall with arrows pointing towards the kitchen.

Following the signs, Ellie went into the kitchen and found the wives of Chris's former roommates hard at work on the food for the party. She vaguely recalled that one of the women owned a catering company, but couldn't remember which one it was. She greeted the women with a hello and got a chorus of greetings in returned.

"He's downstairs," Kady told her.

"Thanks," Ellie replied. She went down the basement stairs and smiled when she reached the bottom. Chris had gotten a little carried away with the decorations, covering nearly every open space on the walls with something Seattle Seahawks or their colors, but she loved it. He'd even gotten Daisy a pink Seahawks jersey and put her in it for the reveal. (Later, upon looking closer, she would spot a few hidden Patriots items in the room.)

"What do you think?" Chris asked, appearing at her side.

"I love it," Ellie replied, turning to look at him. "Thank you, Chris."

"You're welcome," he said, pulling her into a hug. Taking advantage of the fact that they were alone for a few seconds, he dipped his head and pressed his lips against hers.

Ellie leaned her body into his and fisted his shirt with her hands, losing herself in the kiss until they were rudely interrupted by their siblings.

"And welcome to my life," Scott said in an exaggerated stage whisper to Izzy.

"Shut up, they're cute," Izzy replied, winking at Ellie, who was blushing as she and Chris parted.

"Just wait, it gets old quickly," Scott told her as he pretended to gag.

Chris rolled his eyes and pointed to the stairs. "Go find something to do other than harassing us," he told his brother.

Scott saluted Chris with his middle finger and then raced up the stairs.

"The others will be here soon," Chris told Ellie. He nodded his head towards the stairs and added, "I'm going to go make sure Scott is helping and not sampling."

"I heard that," Scott yelled from upstairs, his words muffled in a way that suggested his mouth was full.

Chris rolled his eyes and went upstairs.

"You go get ready," Izzy told her sister as they heard the brothers picking on each other. "I'll go supervise."

It took Ellie less than twenty minutes to change into her favorite Seahawks shirt, pull her hair into a messy bun and cleanup after Daisy in the backyard. By the time she returned to the big house, Chris's friends had arrived as had Phoenix's husband, Kurt, and their one-year-old son, Isaiah.

Most of the guests had chosen to wear something in a Seahawks color, a nod to Ellie winning the bet that she and Chris had made on the first day of the season. Even Scott had changed into a bright green polo shirt.

Then Ellie spotted Chris, who was talking to one of his friends. He had changed, too, from a black shirt into a navy blue Patriots shirt. She made her way towards him and his friend saw her before Chris did. The friend muttered something to Chris before winking at Ellie and moving away.

"Nice shirt," she told Chris, sarcastically.

"It's got a 12 on it," Chris said with a shoulder shrug.

"Not the right kind of 12," Ellie replied, crossing her arms. "And definitely not the right team."

"There was nothing in our bet that required me to wear a Seahawks shirt," Chris reminded her with a big grin.

Ellie narrowed her eyes at him and let out of a huff. "We'll add it next time," she told him. "You'll look really good in Action Green."

Turning on her heel, she made her way over to baby Isaiah, who launched himself into her arms as soon as she was close enough.

With so many people, it didn't take them long to get the food downstairs and setup on the folding tables that Chris had rented for the day. Coolers were brought in from outside with ice cold beer and soda in them.

They all visited during the pre-show, quieting in respect as the national anthem was sung, and had mostly found their seats by the time the coin toss ceremony began. They all chuckled as the special guest, Joe Namath, flipped the coin early and the head referee snatched the coin out of the air so he could finish explaining the rules. A minute later, the real toss happened and Ellie pumped her first when the Seahawks won it.

As the Denver Broncos lined up for their first play, following the kick off, Ellie found herself practically shoved into Chris's lap as Scott wedged himself in between her and Izzy on the couch. She was in the process of righting herself when the ball was snapped. Almost immediately, the commentators announced it was a bad snap and the pro-Seahawks crowd roared. She got her eyes on the screen just in time to see a Denver player pounce on the ball in the end zone, giving the Seahawks a 2-point safety.

"And that's how you start the Super Bowl!" Ellie exclaimed as she shared high fives with those around her. She had to nudge Chris to get him to high five her, but he did so, happy to see her happy. Turning to Scott, she punched him in the shoulder and said, "I almost missed that because of you."

"And almost took out my family jewels," Chris added from over her shoulder.

"Sorry?" Scott offered, unapologetically, his eyes focused on the Doritos commercial that was playing.

When the game came back, they watched as the Broncos kicked the ball to the Seahawks. The Broncos defensive line managed to keep the Seahawks from scoring a touchdown on the drive that followed, but gave up a field goal making the score 5 to 0.

As the first quarter continued, Denver's offense stalemated against the Seahawks and their defense gave up a second field goal, making the score 8 to 0. With another chance to score, the Broncos offense came onto the field, but gave up an interception with less than a minute left in the quarter.

The second quarter started with the Seahawks getting a touchdown and extra point off the drive that had started with the interception the quarter before. Then they picked off another pass from Peyton Manning and scored a second touchdown and extra point, making the score 22 to 0.

"How ya doing?" Chris asked Ellie as the game went to yet another commercial. "Feeling light headed yet?"

"I feel amazing," she replied, dramatically resting her head on his shoulder. "My team is kicking ass."

When the game started up again, Denver nearly coughed up at ball on the kick off, but the officials ruled that the player was down, ending the play before he lost control of the ball. (Not that Ellie agreed with the call as she cursed under her breath.) Ultimately, the Broncos were unable to score on their last drive of the first half and the Seahawks took over and killed the final minutes on the clock.

While waiting for the halftime show to start, everyone got more food or took a turn in one of the bathrooms. As Bruno Mars and the Red Hot Chili Peppers performed, they all sang along and danced, some in their seats and others where they weren't blocking anyone's view of the TV.

The third quarter started off with a bang, literally, as the Seahawks' Percy Harvin caught the ball on the kick off from the Broncos and ran it 87 yards to score another touchdown. (A play that had Ellie leaping off the couch and nearly knocking over Chris's beer in the process.) A successful extra point attempt made the score 29 to 0, Seahawks.

A failed drive for each team followed that touchdown, but Seattle got the ball back off a fumble. They scored a touchdown and extra point, several plays later, making the score 36 to 0. Denver managed to score their own touchdown, a few minutes later, and got a two-point conversion, making the score 36 to 8.

"How ya doin, champ?" Chris asked with a grin as the third quarter ended. He'd seen Ellie get excited about football, but she was ecstatic and riding an emotional high with the way the game was unfolding. Even he had to admit that the Seahawks were playing amazing, but only to himself.

"They're going to do this," Ellie said, stating the obvious. "They're going to win this mother-"

"ELLIE!" Her cousin cut her off before she could finish the rest of the word.

"Oops," Ellie said with a giggle. Leaning closer to Chris, she whispered, "They're going to win this motherfucking game."

"Yes they are," Chris agreed with a laugh.

And so they did. Denver attempted an onside kick, but Seattle recovered the ball. They scored on that drive, making the game 43 to 8. What followed were several unsuccessful drives by both teams, a fumble recovery for the Seahawks and then the final whistle.

"WE WON!" Ellie shouted as the players and coaches celebrated their Super Bowl victory on the TV. She threw herself into Chris's arms, as he stood up, and kissed him, not caring that everyone could see them. Not that he seemed to care as he kissed her back.

"Again with the kissing?" Scott asked sarcastically. He was happy that Chris had found someone like Ellie, but he couldn't help but tease his brother a bit and he knew Ellie would just roll her eyes.

Ellie was still floating on cloud nine as they all worked together to put away leftovers, making sure that everyone took something home with them to munch on later. She got lots of 'congrats' hugs as everyone began to leave, including Izzy, who was catching a flight home that night.

"Have fun tonight," her sister whispered as they hugged goodbye. "Enjoy him, I mean, yourself."

"You're awful," Ellie said with a laugh as she poked her sister in the side. "But I will."

Eventually, it was just her, Chris and Scott left in the house. She and Chris were in the kitchen doing the last of the dishes when Scott came in with a bag.

"I'll see you guys tomorrow," he announced. "I'm house sitting for a friend tonight. Thought I'd take Daisy with to keep me company?"

"Uh, sure," Ellie replied, glancing at her dog who was still rocking her Seahawks jersey. "If you're sure it's ok with your friend."

"It is," Scott assured her. "We'll be back in the morning." He grabbed Daisy's leash and opened his mouth to ask if she wanted to go on a drive, but shut it when the dog bounded towards him at the sound of her leash jangling. "I guess that's a yes from Daisy, too." He clipped the leash onto Daisy's collar.

"What about food?" Ellie asked. "And -"

"Already packed her stuff," Scott assured her. "See ya." He led Daisy out the door to the garage and Chris closed it behind them.

"Did you have something to do with that?" Ellie asked him as he turned back towards her.

"With my brother leaving? Yes. With him taking Daisy? No," Chris replied as he took the towel from Ellie's hands and tossed it onto the counter. "Let's let these air dry and go upstairs."

"What's upstairs?" she asked coyly as he pressed her back against the counter. She was reminded suddenly of a similar position she and Chris had found themselves in at the beginning of the season. At that time, he'd been picking a piece of fuzz out of her hair. This time, she knew, he was plotting how to get her out of her clothes and into his bed.

"Your private Super Bowl celebration awaits upstairs," Chris told her, his voice low and rough.

"Tell me more about this celebration," Ellie encouraged as she looked up at him.

"Well, there will be kissing, lots of kissing," Chris teased. "And a shower, but the actual shower kind, not the champagne kind -"

"Well that's disappointing," Ellie interrupted. "I've always wanted to be sprayed with champagne." Chris quirked an eyebrow at her words. "What? Haven't you?"

"I've had it done," he replied. "It's not as cool as it looks when you get it in your eyes. Or if someone takes a cork to the balls." Ellie snickered. "Ask Chucky about it next time you see him, we got a bit wild at Brock's bachelor party."

"Oh, I will," Ellie promised, making a mental note to ask. She loved hearing the stories that Chris and his friends shared, especially after they'd all had a drink or two and had loosened up a bit. They constantly tried to one up each other with their stories, which led to a lot of revelations.

"Now back to our private celebration," Chris said, taking back control of the situation. "I'm sorry to say your Seahawks shirt will not be allowed." Now it was her turn to raise an eyebrow. "It's a clothing free party."

"I've never been to a clothing free party," Ellie confessed. She made to reach for the hem of her shirt, to get the party started, but paused and looked at the door. "Are you sure Scott is gone?"

"Let's move the party upstairs, just in case," Chris suggested. "You head up, I'll lock up the house."

Ellie nodded and headed upstairs to Chris's room. She considered taking her clothes off before he got there, but decided to wait and see what he had in mind.

When he arrived a couple minutes later, he was carrying a small cooler and a picnic basket.

"What's that for?" Ellie asked with a laugh.

"It's only 8:30 and I don't plan on us leaving this room until morning," he said as he set the cooler and picnic basket on the floor by his reading chair. "I've got everything we need to keep us going tonight. Food, water and gatorade."

"Well if I'm going to be stuck with you for at least the next twelve hours, at least you brought brownies," Ellie teased, after sneaking a peek into the basket to see what he'd brought up.

"Stuck, ha," Chris replied, wrapping his arms around her waist. "You can't wait to get with all of this." He gyrated his hips in a lewd fashion against her. "Shall we get this party started then?"

"I was waiting for you, party boy," Ellie told him in silky smooth voice. She placed her hand over his heart and then slid it down his torso to the hem of his shirt. "Why don't you go first?"

"No, no," he said, shaking his head. "My mom always taught me that gentlemen let ladies go first and I'm a gentleman."

Ellie rolled her eyes, but took a step back and pulled her Seahawks shirt off, tossing it onto the floor. "Your turn."

Chris grinned and pulled his shirt over his head before adding it to the pile. He pointed at Ellie's jeans and then made an 'out of here' gesture with his right hand before he crossed his arms over his chest.

Having taken her shoes and socks off earlier, Ellie smiled as she popped the button on her jeans and drew the zipper down. She added an extra sway to her hips as she shimmed her jeans down her body. She was bent to remove her jeans when she heard the unmistakable sound of jeans falling down. Looking up, she saw that Chris was standing with his jeans pooled at his feet and wearing a pair of bright green boxer briefs.

"So, do I look as good in Action Green as you thought I would?" he asked, his hands on his hips.

Finally free of her jeans, Ellie kicked them aside and nodded her head. It was true it wasn't exactly Action Green, but it was close and she knew he'd worn them just for this moment.

"Think I'll get some action?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Did the Seahawks just win the Super Bowl?" Ellie answered in the form of another question with an obvious answer of yes. "Maybe a bath first?"

"A bath?" Chris asked, his hands falling from his hips. "Why would we take a bath?"

"Because it's romantic?"

"A shower is faster. Not to mention part of the party plan."

Ellie rolled her eyes as she sighed. "I just washed my hair this morning, Chris. If we take a shower, I have to wear a shower cap."

"So?" he asked.

The 'so' was that her heavy duty shower cap was not attractive at all. She went into the bathroom and opened the drawer that Chris had designated for his mom and sisters bath stuff. He had given her permission, months ago, to use his soaking tub when he was gone and she had, several times. Because of that, she had put her own bath things in the drawer, including the 1970s patterned, heavy duty shower cap that she wore to keep her hair dry. It was one of the many she'd tried, over the years, that could hold all of her hair up without leaving angry red marks on her forehead.

"What in the hell is that?" Chris asked as she turned around with the hideous thing in her hands.

"My shower cap," Ellie replied with a small frown. She took a second to put it on and then looked up at him, expecting to find him looking at her with disgust, but there was a funny look on his face. "What?"

"Take off your bra and panties," he told her in a husky voice.

She eyed him as she reached behind her and unclasped her bra, rolling her shoulders forward so the straps would fall down. She pulled the fabric away from her body and dropped it onto the bathroom rug. Then she slipped her hands under the waistband of her panties and pulled them down, kicking them away. Taking a deep breath, she pushed her shoulders back and then looked up to meet Chris's eyes.

Chris sucked in an audible breath of air as he took in the voluptuous curves of her body bared before him: her full breasts, the softness of her narrow waist that flared out at her hips and her amazing ass that he could see if he looked into the mirror behind her. Two steps was all it took for him to reach her and he pulled her against him before planting a passionate kiss on her lips.

Rising to her tiptoes, Ellie weaved her hand into Chris's hair as she kissed him back, her embarrassment over her shower cap forgotten completely. Breathless, a moment later, she pulled away and lowered herself so she was standing flat footed again. "I thought we were going to take a shower first," she whispered.

"We are," Chris said, a little confused himself. It took every ounce of his willpower to step away from her and turn towards the shower. Even more to actually walk to the shower and turn it on. He was so focused on achieving the shower objective that he started to get into the shower, but was stopped when Ellie grabbed his arm.

"You're still wearing your boxers," she said with an amused giggle.

Blinking, Chris looked down and saw that, sure enough, he was still wearing his underwear. He smacked Ellie's bum lightly as she stepped into the shower still giggling over his moment. After shucking his boxer briefs, Chris joined her and enjoyed the squeal that escaped her mouth when he pressed her against the still cool tile wall. Then he made it up to her.

Once in the shower and then again in his bed.

Episode 16.5

Want to find me off tumblr? I’m @beccatheycallme on twitter. I also post my stories on AO3.

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rndyounghowze · 4 years

Text

An Evening of Online Plays Right in our Living Room Directed by Missouri S&T Theatre

By: Ricky and Dana Young-Howze

St. Louis, Missouri

It was a cool and rainy evening when Dana and I followed the Zoom link and joined viewers across the country to see "An evening of Online Plays"

Produced by Missouri S&T Theatre. One of our dear friends Erin Lane had one of her pieces in the bill of four 10 minute plays to be presented that night and invited us to come watch. This night of online theater, produced by Taylor Gruenloh and presented by Missouri S&T theatre students was our first time reviewing a Zoom Production and definitely will not be our last.

This was directed by two students of Missouri S&T's directing program. When classes were cancelled for Victoria Hagni and Madeline Lechner their professor Taylor Gruenloh knew that unless they actually produced a finished project it wouldn't feel as if the two students weren't getting the most out of their independent study. So they quickly changed gears and commissioned ten minute plays from four playwrights from my graduate program Hollins University that would work perfectly in a Zoom format. This livestream is that final result.

It's worth mentioning what Dana and I are looking for when we review a production produced on an online platform streamed out of people's homes. We of course are looking at the level of acting and the production value of the plays but we are also looking at how this new medium of performance is taken advantage of and how the artists worked within those constraints. We are definitely as much beginners at reviewing this as the artists are performing in it. We also know that these students were ramping up and learning for something completely different than pioneering a new artform so we empathize. So now that we know we're both adjusting to a learning curve let's get down to the nitty gritty.

We've decided to talk about the plays grouped by the director not in the order that they were presented and since these were brand new plays written just for the production we're reviewing the plays too.

First we're looking at the plays directed by Madeline Lechner.

De-Equalized by Amy Lytle is a play about two students Katie (played by Natalie Arnold) and Jordan (played by Adam Bateman) who are working on a group project while they are separated on spring break.

I'll admit putting this play up as the first play we see was a very eerie experience. Not just because it was about two students talking about a group project over Zoom but also because this was Dana and my first primer into what a Zoom production is. Seeing the screen jump back and forth between the two actors like it was cutting back and forth like in a movie was bizarre but I was immediately intrigued by the possibilities.

I was very impressed with the actors trying their hardest to emote to somebody that is not physically in the room with them. I felt like Arnold did a better job at this than her acting partner. I can only imagine having to not only keep myself cheated open for the audience but also knowing that my acting partner is a small post card sized picture on a screen. Also knowing that your performance depends on the connectivity of your device and the tilt of your camera is probably as big of a rush as tightrope walking. But because of this feeling of risk some of their emotions seemed to go stagnant. I needed to feel like this energy could travel eight hundred miles.

This could have been an acting problem but I definitely feel like some of this sits on Lechner's shoulders as a director. If the energy isn't shaking the rafters you definitely need to find ways to ramp your actors up. But we also feel like the playscript didn't give them higher stakes to begin with. Not everyone reveals family secrets doing homework. Also Dana never believed she was going to walk out on him which really did kill the stakes.

As for the play Dana noticed there was a lot of exposition about scholarship and financial aid that anyone watching a college show would know. We would hope that in a further draft the playwright would trust her audience more. I loved the idea of students finding out something about a friend that they didn't know before but also wish that the action had started way earlier. The play spent so much time on exposition I feel like the play didn't start until the eight minute mark and then they only had two minutes left. In a future draft I really hope this is addressed.

Also directed by Lechner was Breathe by Erin Lane a play about Dory (played by Raelyn Twohy) and Michael (played by Michael Ellis) two parents having to coparent while being separated and trying to calm each other down while also trying to appear strong for the other.

I love that this play made use of ANY kind of action and it was a great refresher from Lechner's previous piece. I still would have asked for much more. Also Dana got the sense that this play was supposed to have a lot of chaos in it but in her words it was "the calmest chaos she's ever seen". I agree. Especially if this is a play about getting the results of a test be it Covid-19, AIDS, pregnancy, or even strep I think you would feel a TAD more tense than that. This harkens back to what I said before about Lechner and getting energy out of her performers. As a director I will tell her you have to do whatever it takes to get that energy out of your cast because if we as an audience don't feel it we're gone. This was a great first outing and if I'm sounding tough it's because I feel she does have potential to do well in the future. Just get that energy in!

As for the acting it seemed that while Dana and I believed the Dad instantly we felt something was "held back" from us. We don't know if that was an acting problem or a writing problem. I am leaning heavily towards acting because of the several "I forgot my line" pauses and constant repeats of cue lines we normally see in high school productions. I personally think it must have been hard to show so much emotion just using your eyes and not having a full stage to work with but if these pauses normally just slow down a stage show on Zoom they felt like an eternity.

This play utilized my very favorite kind of exposition where everything we needed to know about the action was fed to us through something that we already knew. We all know that kind of back and forth between a Mom and Dad as they suss out parenting. But then you have this through the lens of long distance. Someone can't be home and now they have to trust someone else to get it done. This is the coolest kind of love story for me. However due to dropped lines and pauses I totally lost the part where Dory is a nurse and that she's taking a Covid-19 test. Dana had to tell me based on her scrubs. I hope that a future production of this play has the faster pace and the higher stakes it deserved.

Also a quick note: I know that no one is really pioneering Zoom set design just yet but I feel that I have to mention the black curtain behind Ellis's back. Dana and I have a running joke where we wonder if there is a "different play behind the curtain" that's more interesting than the one we're seeing. This presented a literal version of that for us where we spent more time wondering what was behind that curtain than listening to what he was saying. Out of love for these actors and with mad respect for what they're doing even if the curtain is hiding dead bodies we kinda hope it isn't there in the future. You guys rock and deserve better than that.

Next we'll be talking about the plays directed by Victoria Hagni.

In Scaramouch and Pinochle by Mike Moran we meet Lizzie (played by Megan Baris) and Bella (played by Haley Jenkins) two sisters who were separated when they were little and adopted by families across the country. Now they're reconnecting.

I loved that this play involved some action that fills up the camera frame and that Hagni gave the actresses some business to do such as painting nails and looking for things. If you think of the screen as your proscenium arch then you start to realize that you can utilize all of that space to tell your story.

Dana loves the use of props and the chemistry between the two actresses even though there were some moments that seemed like they were talking more at the screens than to each other. As you guys know I'm a sucker for puppets so even a sock puppet wormed it's way into my heart.

As for the script I feel like the realization about the Mom’s death and other family drama wasn’t "earned". There was no build up to it so I don't know whether it really happened or if our character was just lying. Where the chemistry between the actresses seemed natural the tense moments in the play didn’t seem natural. Overall it was a very cute play and with a couple more revisions it would be perfect.

In Folies a Deux/Pas de deux by Kevin D. Ferguson we meet Amanda Toye as Woman and Luke Goekner as Man. They are a couple with an interesting history and reconnecting after a long time.

I absolutely ADORED the use of the whole kitchen and room as a playing space. Having her start "upstage" at the counter and then moving the camera around as she moved dropped us into the world of the play. This was the first time that I forgot I was watching a Zoom play and just started watching the show. If I have to give one criticism to Hagni at all it is that I would have loved to see this kind of blocking in her previous piece.

I really commend the actors for really knowing their lines, really getting this blocking down, and committing to it. I mean somebody made cupcakes for this show! That's commitment.

Dana feels like this one was the most theatrical because it would definitely work on a stage AND online. This was the play that she absolutely believed with all her heart. I was totally pulled in. This is one of those plays that just make you want to sit in front of a computer and write a play.

The hardest part I'm going to notice about directing and writing for this medium is that you're simultaneously directing a theatre production and producing a movie. The actors aren't just actors they become directors of photography. The only difference between these plays and a movie is that a movie would be recorded for later and edited by someone else. I'm predicting that the most successful Zoom productions will be the ones that blur these lines. Is this naturalistic theatre or an indie found footage film. Who knows and who cares? Actors are not just emoting as if they're in the smallest of black box theaters but also thinking in terms of setups and dynamic camera angles. This is going to be a hard skill to master and in thirty or so years we'll be reading textbooks about the people who started this trend thinking about how we were all just figuring it out.

Also I'm looking forward to the day when we literally don't have the big pink elephant of COVID-19 in the room with us. Right now anytime you see a play livestreamed we all kind of know why it's not being presented onstage. So effectively even if the play doesn't explicitly say so it inherently is about this pandemic I know it's going to be at least a few years before this isn't the case but I will welcome it with open arms.

You have one more opportunity to see this production tonight May 9th at 7 PM Central Time. For those of you teaching theatre right now it might be an excellent tool or opportunity to talk about this evolving theatre climate. Follow this link right here and enjoy the show!

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tanyaodebra · 4 years

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You 2.8: “Fear and Loathing in Beverly Hills” – And Hunter Wept

I’m obsessed with this show and I am definitely going to keep watching, but COME ON. As a Passions fan, I’m truly down for anything – a monkey who’s a nurse, a witch who controls a town through a caldron, simultaneous pregnancies that are not twins, an evil doll that comes to life – select any flavor of soap opera madness and I will shovel it into my gaping TV-holes as long as it adheres to the tone of the show. But a drug episode? Really? This is tonal chaos. Anyway, we pick up right where we left off, with Delilah trapped in a glass case of emotional torture. David Fincher calls again and when Delilah lies in order to gain Joe’s trust, she says they’ll go on a date soon, a lie that cuts deep. Joe does indeed act as though he’s going to free her – he purchases plane tickets, says his goodbyes, and sets up Delilah in time-release handcuffs (which are real, because fetish people) so she can let herself out after he’s on a plane. And then we hit the first in a series of clichés – he sets a timer for sixteen hours so he is literally fighting against the clock. It’s a little much, and it telegraphs the idea that he’s going to fail.

Love is looking crazy-eyed in her lemon palace, and her team of enabling friends give her permission to do what she really wants, which is obviously to get Joe back. Dottie, egged on by her shaman, makes an unexpected appearance, and the two share a dysfunctional dinner. Love brings up the au pair, and Dottie hisses that she “did what she had to do.” Was Dottie involved in the murder, or just the cover-up? Love drunkenly storms out. When Love can’t handle her liquor, Dottie swoops in to take advantage of this moment of vulnerability.

We hit the second cliché when Forty and Joe are kidnapped. It felt so out of the blue that it totally took me out of the story. In fact, Joe even says that if this were a movie, he wouldn’t believe it. Things feel a little more planted in the world of the story once it becomes clear that Forty had planned it. Forty needs Joe’s help writing his screenplay and they will remain hotel room hostages of gun-toting Russians until they finish. I guess Joe is getting a taste of his own medicine, which hearkens back the first episode’s promise of karmic retribution. Forty’s back on the ‘booch, but this time he’s mixing it with Dexedrine. Not a great sign, because last time he was drinking kombucha he went hog-wild at Hendy’s. He spirals very quickly after Ellie’s honest notes and he jumps out the window into a dumpster, then absconds to a bar. Joe is obligated to follow him, and the clock keeps ticking. Joe finds Forty seated behind a sea of empty shot glasses, swimming in the blues. Apparently Forty is still texting Candace, which would lead a normal viewer to believe that she is alive and well. Lucky for you, I don’t trust anything or anyone, so I feel certain that Love is necro-texting from Candace’s phone. Fueled by tequila, Forty throws a drunken grenade into a nearby couple’s wedding reception by reenacting a watered-down Indecent Proposal – he kisses the bride in exchange for ten grand in cash. At his wits end, Joe attempts to leave the bar with or without Forty, but Forty grabs his arm and pens “8:52” in Sharpie. You see, that’s the time Joe started drinking the seltzer Forty dosed with four hits of acid. There it is, the third cliché. Literally anything is plausible now, which feels very, very cheap. Poor Joe has never taken LSD before, so he is about to have his ass handed to him. He is, to say the least, displeased. But then he bumps into Love – she “put two and two together,” aka stalked him or had him followed, and chose to have dinner in the same hotel where Joe and Forty were writing – when he starts tripping HARD.

Joe’s trip is a kaleidoscope of flashbacks about his childhood and imagined conversations with his mother. She provokes him, coddling his worst impulses. Forty uses the trip to get inside Beck’s head, which sends Joe spiraling. Forty narrowly escapes being choked to death by kneeing Joe in the balls during a roleplay gone wrong. Joe is freaking the fuck out, and rightfully so. Four hits of acid is a stupidly high dose for anyone, let alone a newbie. Forty allows him to use the safe word (I don’t know if this is a cliché, but it’s a really crazy plot coupon) to get moon juice (is this some LA thing I don’t know about, or is it a fictional Anavrin thing?) and snacks. Forty can’t come, because he’s conveniently peaking. Joe blacks out and finds himself standing in front of the mirror in the bathroom. Did he ever leave? There’s blood on his hands. He washes them, then all the blood disappears. Was it ever there? When he returns to the living room, Forty’s drinking moon juice among a gaggle of grocery bags. He confirms that Joe definitely left and brought this stuff back, but he doesn’t know how he got there or how long he was gone. Weird, since it seems like Joe would not go back to that room on his own. Dmitri (Adi Spektor), the Russian bodyguard, affirms that Joe came back with clean hands. Joe hears Love’s ringtone in Dmitri’s pocket, and he freaks out until Forty bribes Dmitri with cash for the phone. This phone call is a fishy dish. Love claims they can figure out whatever he’s running from together. Why does she know he’s running from something? Running implies guilt. After what Candace told her, why wouldn’t she want to stay far, far away? Joe says the magic words that Milo never would have said – they can take Forty with them on their escape tour. Maybe this is something James never would have agreed to? After another mommy-induced blood cry, Joe seeks solace in Forty, who has actually cracked his story. The beat board is organized and ready to go. The key was in figuring out who the real killer is, and it’s not Dr. Nicky. According to Forty, it can only be Beck’s unnamed ex-boyfriend, because he’s the one who truly loved her. Just as Joe is about to slash Forty’s throat, Forty reveals that he can empathize. His au pair didn’t kill herself – Forty killed her in a jealous rage. He claims to have blacked out, then awakened to see himself standing over her corpse. Their parents made it look like a suicide. So, Love’s weirdness around that story could have been the simple fact of lying about it. But the detail of Forty blacking out has me doubting… Maybe he didn’t kill her. But maybe he did. We’ll see. Either way, Joe is immensely comforted by this story and in turn, he comforts Forty. The two seem solidly bonded by this experience.

The next morning, Forty is MIA. Joe has exactly one hour and twenty minutes to resolve his situation with Delilah. The plan is to negotiate with Delilah so he can live happily ever after with Love. He makes it to the storage unit with seconds to spare. There’s just one problem – Delilah’s dead. Did Joe kill her? I mean, it would make sense. He’s the only one who knows where she is. Except she’s lying in an ocean of blood, and his clothes are totally clean. There is no way someone who is peaking on four hits of acid could have gotten it together to murder someone, then either change into an identical outfit or wash the one he had on. Not possible. And that both Forty and Joe killed someone in a blackout is weird – I’m willing to bet that either it’s true in both cases or false in both cases. But if Love’s detective has been following Joe this whole time, as I suspect, a garden of possibilities blooms. See You next time!

#you netflix season2 episode8 recap

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