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angelwithdemonictendencies · 4 months

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all my life i've been frozen, forgive me if i wince at your warmth; kiss my blue lips and say the frost brings out my eyes.

jd6 x reader: maybe roommates wasn't the best idea (sugar pt. 2).

(warnings: blasphemous filth (we're back, and this is a good one), unprotected penetrative sex (m on f), oral sex (f on m), hair pulling and spit and all my usual stuff (you guys know. legs and lips and all that nonsense). lots of whining and whimpering from the ducks defenseman with the giant traps. descriptions of general insecurity (but of course!). know yourself and your limits, please don't read if you're not 100% sure).

(a/n: alright, my favorites. here you have it, the promised continuation of my jd6 sugar piece from halloween (so please read that here first so this makes sense)! and yes, it's long (11.1k), so thank you, as always, for your support and kindness and patience and gentleness. congratulations to jd6 for his return to the big leagues. this is his prize, i'm sure he'll be thrilled. it appears it's impossible for me to write a story without using tz11 as a comedic side character. obviously there is nothing realistic about this, such is the upside of fictitious writing. can you tell i had an idea for like two scenes and then filled in all the blanks? (been wanting to write gaming chair head for a million years). if you relate to the more serious insecurities addressed within this story, know i'm here for you. please believe that it is so utterly and completely fathomable that people are and will be attracted to and interested in you! anyways, please let me know what you think (and who/what you want next)! go canucks (and all-star qh43). until next time, all my love).

it had taken little convincing on either side for jamie to move in with you. it was sort of funny, how not so long ago, it had been only you in your apartment, and now he was there, too, evidence of him all around.

a few months in, you had almost forgotten what the fridge looked like without his recovery drinks lining the shelves, what the living room smelled like without his favorite candle burning, what the mudroom looked like without his shoes and bags littered around the door.

you had grown accustomed to him, in his entirety, and the more he revealed about himself, the more trouble you had remembering what this place had been like without him.

it seemed so crucially important that you knew about his culinary endeavors (he was trying ever so hard to branch out beyond chicken and rice). it seemed of the utmost significance that you understood all of his favorites of everything, and that he knew all of yours in return. because if you didn't, one of you might bring home a flavor of ice cream the other didn't like, or flowers the other didn't like the color of, or something like that.

and if he didn't know the names of your favorite movies, how would he be able to talk to you about them? and if you didn't have a little bit of a grasp on the gaming world, how could you keep up when he rambled on about it?

you told yourself it was only polite that you knew about his interests, and his family, and his friends, and his dreams. that he was only being polite when he asked about all of yours.

you were sort of shocked at how quickly he had made his presence known within your routine. his schedule merged with yours on the calendar attached to the fridge. his friends came over to play video games, yours to watch movies.

you were proud of yourself for how you had handled his moving in, really, but you'd be lying if you said he didn't have an effect on you. he was the same blushing, stuttering, beautiful boy who had dropped that plant in your doorway, after all.

and you were acutely aware of the effect he had on you, from that very first day. he didn't seem to let you forget it, like the night, a few days into your new arrangement, when you went into the kitchen around midnight to get a glass of water.

something you had done, time and time again, almost every night, alone. so you were startled, to say the least, when you felt a figure behind you. you whipped around, your heartbeat elevated, thudding in your chest, in your neck.

you placed a hand over your heart to still yourself when you recognized that shaggy dark hair, square face, broad build.

"fuck, jamie," you practically whispered, your voice tense, "you scared me." you made to pour him a glass of water, willed your body to emerge from danger mode.

"'m sorry, petal," he murmured, and his tone alone could have set your body ablaze, rumbling through you like an earthquake. "didn't mean to." apology thickened his words like cornstarch.

"'s okay," you said as you passed him the glass, took a sip from your own.

if it was light you would have seen his eyes track the motion, how his gaze seemed to get stuck on your lips around the rim of your glass.

there was something very heavy about sharing this space with him, especially now, in the cover of the night. you felt freer, almost indulgent, in taking him in. less guilty in your secret wanting. suddenly your brow furrowed in concern. "did i wake you up?"

he shrugged, took a sip of his water, which made your swallow shaky. "walls are thin," he rasped. "just wanted to make sure you were okay."

your exhale was shallow as you took in his words. this exchange in the dark was too dangerous, too much. you made to go back to your room, stopping to place a wanting palm on his corded shoulder as you passed him. you felt him flex instinctively under your touch, suddenly wanted, simultaneously, to be anywhere but here and to never leave. "thanks for checking on me, jamie," you whispered. it seemed to have been so long since someone had done that.

there was a pause full of uncertainty. "'course," he replied, rough and rolling.

you were so, so, close, and such a predicament could have ignited the foundation of the building in all of its seriousness.

that exchange, so early on in knowing him, nonetheless had you promising yourself that you wouldn't let your relationship with jamie grow beyond anything besides roommates. just roommates, you said, and that's it. anything past that boundary was too dangerous, too charged, too soaked in meaning and feeling and wanting.

but such a promise was proving hard to keep, even months later. because as comfortable as you had grown to each other, there was something so deliriously uncomfortable about being so close to each other, so ridiculously entwined in each others' days, and yet not touching, not indulging the desire you both so felt. so scared to look desperate, to be caught red handed in want, even if that was exactly true.

regardless, such a promise was proving hard to keep, especially on days like today.

you were sitting at the kitchen counter, one leg pulled up to your chest as you sat on a stool. you still worked at the same coffee shop, and you still loved it, but you had picked up some copywriting jobs here and there, too.

naturally, you looked up when you sensed another figure enter the room. your gaze caught on a very sleepy jamie with a very sleepy smile.

"morning," he said, his voice rough and raspy with remnants of night.

you felt your mouth tick upwards in response to his presence. "morning, jamie," you replied, shifting on your stool, willing jittery attraction out of your voice, out of your head. there was no space for that here, you told yourself. you cleared your throat as he made himself a cup of tea. "doing anything fun today?"

he turned to you, leaned his frame back against the counter, a movement so comfortable it made you blush. he hummed, thinking, before meeting your eyes. "nothing out of the routine," he mused, his gaze on you making you feel his attention in your feet, in the tips of your fingers. "when're you working? maybe i'll swing by."

your chest thumped at the thought of him taking time to come see you, even though that wasn't necessarily rare anymore. he visited your coffee shop at least once a week, but the sentiment of it all wasn't lost on you. the preciosity of someone deeming you worthy of a drive, however short.

you leaned on your clasped hands, scrunched up your nose in gentle pleasantry. "two to close, today," you told him, "but you don't have to come."

his eyes softened ever so slightly, his expression all maple syrup and pancakes on a lazy sunday morning. "want to, petal," he told you, taking his mug and starting back towards his room. "give me something to look forward to, eh?"

you were glad to hear his door swing shut behind him, if only so that he didn't see your face scrunch up further in guilty delight, at being his something to look forward to.

if jamie had settled into being your roommate, your favorite coworker had not settled into that fact. or maybe she had settled in, but it didn't appear that she would be giving you or him a break anytime soon.

it had only been a couple of months, and she had yet to go a day without bringing him up, nevermind going a visit without saying something you were sure would embarrass him.

as promised, after his workout and skate, the bell above the door jingled. you swore the sound was louder, more jubilant when he opened the door than any other patron.

he's here, the bell seemed to sing, finally, finally, he's here! you fought the urge to shush the inanimate object.

"well, well, well," your coworker said, wiping down the counter, "honestly, 6, i'm shocked you had any time to stop by, given your packed schedule of not shooting the puck."

you shook your head at her. "don't be mean, lovely," you chastised. you locked eyes with jamie, molten chocolate and stained glass. "i'm sure you shoot just enough."

his returning grin was carefully confident. "right as always," he told your coworker, "if we had a coaching opening i'd put in a good word."

this quickly spurred your coworker into a heated rant about how poorly the coach of the ducks was handling his roster full of young talent.

you began the process of making his drink, the one he insisted on ever since that first day. he had told you before that nothing could possibly be better than your fall themed treat. as you shook the maple syrup and espresso with ice, you missed the way a flush dusted across the bridge of his nose, like a day out in the sun.

your coworker did not miss this, however. she smirked, tilted her head. "a bit hot in here, drysdale? you look a little flushed."

he shot her a look, one which she mimicked before you turned to hand him his drink.

"here you are," you said as his hand closed over yours around the to-go cup.

your mind sparked and sputtered at the feeling of his warm hand over your fingers. he could have grabbed under your hand, the hopeless romantic in your head screeched. he could have avoided your touch, but he didn't!

but you had long ago resigned to refusing to listen to the hopeless romantic, in all of her desperate and shameful loveliness. you couldn't trust her, you had learned. she only ever left you feeling lost and longing.

so you silenced her, ignored her big, teary eyes as you dismissed her for the thousandth time, pulled your hand away.

"thank you, petal," he said, so genuine and sweet, so exactly him. it seemed cruel that you still weren't used to him, to his kindness, that he was still evoking this kind of response from you.

your only solace was that he didn't seem to be finding it especially easy, either, if his flickering gaze or flexing hands were anything to go by.

"you're welcome," you replied. "headed home now?"

he hummed in affirmation, rocked back on his heels. "when will you be home?"

you could have sighed at just how domestic it all was, like some kind of sixties fantasy. honey, i'm home! echoed in your head.

but you shut that down as quickly as it appeared. "why?" you asked, raising an eyebrow, "expecting company, or something?" your mouth quirked. "maybe a girl?"

he paled, and you were surprised at your nerve, too. you didn't really know why you were doing this, why you would ask. you and jamie didn't have that kind of relationship, and why would you ask that anyway, when you knew for a fact one of the possible two answers would cut through you like a warm knife through butter?

thankfully, your coworker broke the tension with an exaggerated laugh, actually slapping the counter before looking up and clocking both of the confused looks turned her way. "oh," she said, looking between the two of you, "was that not a joke?" she nodded. "alright then, my bad."

jamie gave a short shake of his head as if mentally moving on. "no one's coming over," he said to you, "just wanted to know when i should make dinner."

in a cartoon, your heart would have beat out of your chest, through your shirt and folded apron. "i'll be back at seven," you told him. "i'll see you then?"

his smile warmed the room. "see you then, petal."

the bell rang, this time dreary and disappointed, as the door shut behind him.

your coworker immediately turned to you, eyes teasing and playful.

"if you're gonna say something, lovely, just say it," you prompted, taking out the closing checklist.

she was practically buzzing on her feet. "tell me you've given up on your no fraternizing with roommates rule," she begged, clasping her hands for emphasis. "tell me you realize how obvious you're both being."

you waved her off, shook your head. "the rule is there because it's important," you chided, "and there's no way he's into me like i'm into him." a line you had used about almost every guy you had liked, repeated so many times in your head it was practically a hymn.

she folded her arms in front of her chest, rolled her eyes. "when you're ready to come to terms with people finding you attractive and interesting and wonderful, as you are, let me know," she called out over her shoulder as she went on her smoke break.

her words stayed with you, though, because they were meaningful. it was hard for you, dreadfully so, to even fathom that someone could find you worthy of their time, their energy, their attention.

even when you were actively flirting with people, acting confident, like you were that first day when jamie walked into your coffee shop, it felt as false, as foreign, as theatrical as shakespeare in the park.

why was it so easy for you to give all of that to others, why did you want to give it to them so desperately? why did it feel like such an impossible ask for someone to give that to you?

her words were burrowing in the back of your mind as you locked the front door of your apartment behind you, breathed in a delicious smell, maybe rosemary? thyme?

you let yourself drift into the kitchen, were met with a freshly showered jamie in pajama pants and an old ohl t-shirt. he stood over the stovetop, humming something, before turning and meeting your eyes, sending a spark flickering through your veins.

"welcome home, petal," he said, his full lips quirking up in that gentle smile you had come to crave.

"long time no see," you teased, knowing it had been only a couple of hours.

his gaze was full of something heavy when he tilted his head, heaped some pasta onto two plates. "felt long," he admitted, "the house is so weird without you here."

your stomach flipped. he couldn't just say things like that, you decided, if he didn't expect you to melt completely, a puddle of pink glitter glue on the hardwood floor.

"weird how?" you asked, hating yourself for pushing.

your mother's voice was jarring, harsh in your head. don't fish for compliments, she always said, it's vain.

now that you were older, you wanted a chance to respond to her. is it fishing for compliments if you never get any? if all you ever hear is how you could do better? you took a breath. is it so wrong to want to hear something good?

jamie didn't appear to think you were being vain, anyways. "weird like quiet," he said, gentle and soft, "i don't know, honestly, just different. it's better when you're here."

you couldn't help but blush at his words, even though you had asked for them. the mother in your head scoffed.

you smiled at him, so genuine you could feel your eyes crinkle at the corners. "i think it's better when you're here, too," you said, low and loaded like a secret.

suddenly the air between you grew thick and heavy, simmering with something the reason in you knew better than to identify. you held each other's gazes for a moment, almost begging, daring the other to do something.

you had never been the kind of person to pick dare during sleepover games, always felt truth was the safer bet. now, there was nothing safe about the truth, either. you cleared your throat, fidgeted with your fingers, dropped your gaze and asked him about practice, what he made for dinner.

do you think about me like i think about you? you wanted to ask him. have you ever wanted me to just hold you after a long day? have you ever thought about what my lips would feel like on your neck?

you shivered, pushed the thoughts away as you ate dinner together, tried to lean into the privilege of spending time with him, even if you wished for something more.

can't this be enough? you pleaded. why isn't this enough?

the words of your routine spun around the two of you like a whirlpool. work, skate, game, lift, dinner, road trip, copywriting. the words of your combined schedules swirled around your head.

better those that the other words, always lurking around the two of you like childhood monsters under a bed: eyes, heat, lips, sweet, gentle, soft, shoulders, arms.

you must have zoned out, because he waved a hand once in front of your face. "petal?"

you shook yourself out of your trance-like state. "sorry," you said, already feeling the familiar flush of embarrassment.

he fixed you with a look. "for what?" he asked, less confused, more curious.

you closed your eyes for a second, took a deep breath. why was he making you explain this? "i mean, i was probably staring at you, right?" you said, feeling the shame of it prick you on the fingers like a thousand needles.

his gaze dropped to your mouth for a millisecond before meeting your eyes again. there was a silence, and when he spoke again, his voice was husky. "you can stare at me all you want, petal."

you could have whimpered, could have screamed. don't say things like that to me, you wanted to tell him. tell me things like that every second until i die, you also wanted to say.

"really?" you whispered, too starry-eyed to cringe at yourself. your food lay forgotten in front of you. how many times had you eaten dinner together, just like this? how many times had you pushed this feeling away? was it possible that he was doing just the same?

he hummed, ran his tongue along the inside of his teeth, a self-satisfied move from him you have never really seen before. you rubbed your crossed ankles together.

you took a breath, a last beat of courage, before reaching across the counter and brushing his hair from out of his eyes. his skin scorched your fingertips, his eyes made your breathing slow and shallow. "you can stare at me, too," you said to him, pulling your arm back.

his eyes were full of understanding. "i know," he told you. "i do."

that knowledge was still haunting you days later. that he noticed you, registered your presence, like you did him. how could you ever act normally again, knowing this? how could you ever act without the constant weight of him around?

so you did the only thing you could think of - you ignored him, avoided him, hoped to skillfully evade his careful gaze, however much it hurt you not to see him, to talk with him, to ask him how practices and games went.

such a task became impossible when the bell clinked cheerily, the following weekend, signifying you and the coffee shop of the arrival of its favorite patron.

you looked up, halfway surprised to see him enter with another person, too, a teammate you had met, you were sure of it, but one you couldn't quite recall the name of. the two of them approached the counter in a shroud of laughter and easiness.

apparently, your coworker recognized the friend, too, because upon their approach she began a slow, sarcastic applause. "gentlemen," she said, "allow me to congratulate you on a recording breaking game last night."

jamie and his friend shared a look. "um," jamie began, careful, "we lost last night."

"oh," your coworker finished an order and set it on the pick-up counter. "i should have clarified. the record was for laziest defensive performance i've ever witnessed." she gave them a quick thumbs up. "congrats again! know you guys have been working real hard for this one."

jamie shook his head lightheartedly before locking eyes with you, smiling slightly. you hadn't really spoken since the other night, but you still didn't really know what to say. you didn't know where you stood, what lines were still drawn.

thankfully, your coworker refused to drop it, not leaving any opportunity for silence, now speaking directly to the newcomer. "i'm so happy you're here, 11," she continued. "you know that you're allowed in your own defensive zone, right? feel free to cross the red line, i think you'll find that defense makes winning a lot easier."

the object of your coworkers jabs turned to jamie. "am i supposed to take this?"

jamie shrugged. "i usually do."

she waved him off. "yeah, but you're hoping i'll put in a good word with your roommate." you blushed at her words, hope sparking at the possibility of them being true.

jamie didn't drop your gaze. "yeah, and how far is that getting me? you gonna put in a good word?"

every fiber of your being told you not to take his words at face value. every fiber of your being wanted to.

she scoffed. "yeah, right. if anything i'd just say you're a pushover."

the newcomer scrunched up his expressive face. "well, in that case, why don't you keep your thoughtful advice to yourself?"

she tilted her head back and laughed. "what, 11, can't take a little feedback?" she pouted, false pity all over her face. "guess you're every bit the flashy bust they say you are."

"no one is saying that!" he fumed, "literally name one person who is saying that!"

you and your roommate stifled your laughter as their argument grew.

you made him his drink, handed it over. his face was gentle, soft as took the cup from you. "you're avoiding me," he said, not accusatory, a simple observation.

you couldn't lie to him and say you weren't, so you only stayed quiet.

"i miss you," he said, so simple and genuine in its honesty that you could have cried.

"i miss you, too," you said, easy as an exhale.

his gaze glimmered. "so watch a movie with me tonight, yeah?"

your mouth twitched, because you wanted to, so badly, but you didn't know if you could trust yourself.

he shifted back and forth on his heels. the sun dripped so languishingly over his brow, down his jaw and neck. "please?" he asked, and you were done.

"okay," you conceded, butterflies already fluttering to life in your stomach at the thought of spending tonight with him on the couch.

a thud and a grunt shook you both from your conversation as you turned to your respective friends. your coworker appeared to be throwing bags of coffee beans at jamie's teammate. "can't hide behind a ref now, can you?" she taunted the lanky newcomer, who struggled to catch the bags.

"this is the behavior of a deranged fan," he pointed out, placing the bags back on the counter. "i hope you realize that."

"you wish i was a fan of yours," she said, crossing her arms over her chest. "on an unrelated note, can i take a video of you wishing my little brother good luck on his math test tomorrow?"

the video was filmed, reluctant thanks and apologies were given and accepted.

"i apologize for the physical assault, but not the truth, 11," your coworker conceded, "and you're only getting any apology at all because this is going to mean the world to my brother."

"can't you just apologize normally?" you pushed, looking to make the rest of the patrons more comfortable, the energy less combative.

"tell you what," she said to him, "if you put in some effort next game to something besides michigans and between-the-legs shots, i'll give you the best apology you've ever seen."

jamie hissed. "he's gonna take that in a way you won't like."

his teammate leveled your coworker with a smirk. "do i get to pick how you apologize?"

she scoffed, an angry flush all over her face. "no, you don't get to pick! what the hell is the matter with you?"

you and jamie shared a look at their bickering. see you at home, petal, he mouthed to you on the way out, argumentative words still saturating the air.

bye, jamie, you mouthed back with a wave.

when you got back from work, called out your greeting, settled in, and changed out of your uniform, you found him on the couch, were all too happy to join him, however off limits it felt.

he felt off limits, like this, all messy hair and eyes tired with the day, worn-in sweatpants and sweatshirts from junior hockey and lazy stretches that revealed slivers of skin.

you lifted up a blanket, pulled your knees to your chest underneath it, avoided his gaze. "your friend's a character, hm?" you started.

he shifted his posture to get a better look at you, even though he was now faced halfway away from the movie he was in the middle of. "who, trevor?" he gave a playful roll of his eyes. "ignore him. he thinks your friend's hot and doesn't know what to do about it."

"that's him flirting?" you said, eyes wide, words spoken slowly for emphasis. "good grief, his act needs some work."

jamie's smile slanted into something dangerous. "what, wouldn't work on you, petal?" suddenly the blanket over you seemed like entirely not enough coverage. you felt completely exposed as you gave a slight shake of your head. he draped a heavy arm along the back of the couch. "no?" he paused, forced you to meet his magnetic gaze as he ran a hand through his hair. "what would work on you, then?"

you searched his eyes for a drop of humor, of teasing, of something that would hurt you, as you had long ago trained yourself to. you could sniff out potential abandonment, embarrassment like a bloodhound. but you came up empty, with him.

what could you say to him? that anything that he does, anything he could ever do, that's what would work on you? that he works on you?

your careful silence could have been a banshee scream into an open expanse as the air between the two of you again adopted that rolling flame, that lick of heat up your bare legs.

your eyes widened as he tugged your feet and calves into his laps with one hand, gently but firmly, just enough so that you could feel the warmth from his thick quads pooling in the backs of your knees.

just close enough to want more. just close enough to know you shouldn't.

"'m picky," you said, almost out of breath, swallowing your uneasiness down until the only thing you felt was him. "not into the interest disguised as insults."

he hummed as if he understood, ran his fingers over your shins, feather-light, so much so that later you would wonder if you had only imagined he had touched you. "so what?" he said, meeting your eyes in the dim light you had long ago deemed especially dangerous. "like to be called pretty, petal? like it when they make it, so, so easy for you?" his fingers dragged across your ankle in an electrifying way that had you forgetting about your promise. "like when they go slow?"

you let out some kind of strangled sound, halfway between a nervous laugh and a whimper. because you did like all of those things, of course you did. you liked proof that people cared about you, how could you not?

you couldn't even dwell on how delicious the word pretty sounded in his mouth, how much you wanted to taste it, because something else in his wording willed confidence into your body, clarity into your head in place of guilt.

"who's they?" you asked, your voice steadier than it had been in weeks.

"hm?" he asked, rough.

"i said," you repeated, shifting your body until you rested on top of his lap, your legs on either side of his hips. "who's they?" you were closer than you had ever been as you felt him underneath you, almost chest to chest. so close you could feel his breathing stutter against you. you brushed his messy hair from his face until you could see his eyes in all of their gorgeous truth. "i don't care much about them, jamie."

something rumbled in him, something you felt in your bones. he looked so, so beautiful, and his mouth was right there, and was he tilting his head closer to you? and-

"jim! when the hell are you gonna give me back my blender?" your door swinging open and shut might as well have been a strike of lightning as you scrambled away from each other. trevor's voice cut through your apartment like thunder, like a cold shower.

in a moment he appeared in the doorframe, suddenly eyeing the two of you with the suspicion only a best friend could muster. he gestured between the two of you, now comically far apart on opposite sides of the couch.

"what's going on here?" he asked.

jamie tilted his head back again, wiped at his face with both hands. "sure, yeah, come on in," he said to trevor through his fingers.

"how did you get in here?" you asked, you voice still dark with want, the aftermath of confidence still lacing your tone.

"key," trevor said, waving you off as if this piece of information wasn't relevant. "why?" he looked between the two of you again, eyes narrowed. "'m i interrupting something?"

silence followed. you didn't look at jamie, and he didn't clarify. "no," you said finally, not angry, but knowing the moment was over. "i guess not."

and so you pulled yourself up, made your way back to your room, every inch of your skin buzzing, every heartbeat a burst of electricity through your body.

voices grew fainter as you neared your door.

"if you'd just give me back my blender this wouldn't be such a problem," trevor hissed.

"and you couldn't've shot me a text? figured you'd just break in to my house?" jamie's voice was resigned. you knew he could never stay mad at his friend.

"it's not breaking in if you gave me a key, scumbag."

you shut your door behind you and collapsed onto your bed, still feeling the phantom of his body underneath you, the ghost of his fingertips digging into your hips. you groaned into a pillow, hating that when you closed your eyes all you saw was his full, pink mouth.

the next day, when you relayed all of this new, and not so new information to your friend at work, she shook her head slowly.

"i don't know," she said, pouring a double shot over ice, "but it sounds like you've either gotta make this thing serious or check out your other options." she shot you a look. "no more of this pining bullshit."

you whacked her with a rag playfully, but sighed. "i can't make it serious. and i don't have other options, so looks like pining's all i got."

"tell me you're kidding." she glared at you. "i've had like three friends just in the past week come in and text me after asking if you're single."

you scrunched up your face. "no, you haven't," you said, knowing there's no way that could be true.

"callin' me a liar?" she prompted, pulling out her phone with her free hand and scrolling until she found one of the texts, facing it to you.

sure enough, there was a message from some guy, some ordinary name, asking if she'd set him up with the "smoke in the canada hat," referring to the hat you had borrowed of jamie's earlier this week.

"whatever," you said, "it doesn't really matter."

"it does matter." your friend set the drink down on the pickup counter and turned to meet your gaze entirely. "it matters to me that you find it so hard to believe that people are into you." she grasped for one of your hands, held it firmly.

her touch was welcome, and so were her words. because honestly, you knew why you found it so hard to believe. because even though you had a pretty good relationship with yourself, even though you knew now that you were beautiful, and smart, and funny, and kind, when you were young, you didn't know that. when you were young, the people you were closest to were basically telling you that you weren't those things.

flashes of tense family dinners, long car rides during which you were the butt of every joke shot across your mind like meteors, just as destructive.

saw you talking to a boy today during lunch, one of your older siblings would say after a long day, maybe middle school, maybe sophomore year. is he your boy-friend? the words slow and taunting, malicious, immediately making an angry, embarrassed flush break out across your face.

don't be ridiculous, peanut, your mother would scold your sibling from the front seat, it's rude. and it's not like she was wrong, the boy you had been talking to wasn't your boyfriend, but it stung like a wasp nonetheless.

why is it ridiculous? you wanted to ask, tears brimming, hot behind your eyes. would that really be so hard to believe?

or countless calls with your parents during your first year of college, each more demeaning than the last. you know you're allowed to date, right? your mother might say. you know we aren't strict about that kind of thing. you held back a bitter and sarcastic congratulations.

i know, you would say, trying to hide the defeat you felt at the disappointed sigh she had done such a poor job of hiding.

every not-so subtle jab landed deep, until even the words put yourself out there induced a physical reaction.

it hurt to think about allowing yourself to want, to be wanted, because what if they laughed in your face? what if it all really was ridiculous, all this time? what if it really was hard to believe?

you sighed, now, squeezed your coworker's hand.

"how about this," she proposed, her eyes as soft as you had ever seen them. "how about i set you up with one of my friends who's interested, just one date, and we see how it goes? no pressure, and i'll make sure he knows it's no pressure. think of it like practice."

you thought for a moment, bit your lip. you could use a stress-free practice, that much was true, and you trusted this friend to not set you up with a sleaze-ball. and, you confessed, if you wanted to fizzle out whatever was going on with your roommate, this would probably be a good start.

so you agreed. the decision was made easier by the fact that jamie was on the road this week, so you didn't have him to distract you. the day of your dinner date ended up being the day he was set to return, but he wasn't supposed to get back until the middle of the night.

you wouldn't have to explain yourself to anyone, or even tell anyone how it went, if you didn't want to, you reminded yourself. just practice, no pressure.

and the guy was really sweet, honestly. he was good-looking, too, if not a bit more lanky, taller than the guys you usually went for. he asked you questions, and seemed to care about the answers, and you found yourself in a full conversation with him pretty easily.

but then something in your mind would catch on his shoulders and think not big enough to sink your teeth into, and then on his mouth and think he'd never call you petal, and then on his cheeks, which didn't blush the whole night, not even once.

and he was a really nice guy, but you found yourself wanting to invite him to join your friend group's book club, not invite him back to your place. you found yourself thinking quite intently about a certain person who was not, in fact, the man sitting across from you at the table.

which was fine, you realized, because this is practice, and he doesn't have to be the one. practice means you can find a friend.

so, with a smile, a shared admission that you would like to get to know each others as friends, and a promise to send him the address to the next book club meeting, you left your first date in forever feeling proud of yourself.

on your way back into your apartment, you sent your friend from work a thank you text before making your way to your room and changing into something more comfortable.

you settled on sleep shorts and an old t-shirt before heading to the kitchen to make a cup of tea, breathing in the smell of steeping chamomile when a sound behind you made you jump.

thankfully you would recognize that frame anywhere. you exhaled. "jesus, jamie," you breathed, "thought you wouldn't be back 'til later."

he stepped forward, the light so dark and dim and dangerous, especially after not seeing him all week. the slope of his high cheekbones, the sharp cut of his jaw, the deep pooling of feeling in his eyes. it all rushed at you a million miles an hour and stole your breath.

"got in early," he explained, his gaze ever so slow down your figure, like he was mapping it, committing it to memory. "were you out?" he asked, his voice suddenly rough.

you swallowed, thinking about what to say. a pause settled between the two of you, thick like mud, decadent like chocolate pudding.

i missed you, you wanted to tell him. tell me you missed me, too.

he inched closer still, leaned against the kitchen counter as you busied yourself with stirring your tea with the tea bag. "don't wanna tell me?" he mused. "how could that be, petal?"

you didn't meet his eyes, suddenly feeling childish. "went on a date."

you were both silent, for a moment. you looked up to check if he was still there. "and why didn't you wanna tell me?" his voice was gravelly.

your hands were shaking, you realized, so you set down your mug, crossed your arms against your chest with a sigh. "he was nice," you admitted, didn't quite miss the green flame that sparked across his gaze, blinked out in a moment. "but i was distracted." you looked down at your feet.

then he was right in front of you, a step apart. it had been so long since you had been so close, and the memory of what had happed that last time burned between the two of you, unspoken, yet the most obvious fixture in the room.

you looked up to meet his curious, careful gaze, wanted so badly to lean forward, sink into his broad chest, breathe him in and never stop.

"by what, petal?" he asked, so close you could practically feel the words on your own lips, his tone so low and heavy your stomach dropped.

you swallowed, watched his eyes track the movement. "you," you said simply, honestly.

and then his eyes searched yours for a single telling moment before his hands came to cup your face, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that held a million i missed you, i missed you, i missed you's.

you let out some soft noise into his mouth at the lovely pressure of his lips against yours, so firm and knowing. you pressed yourself so closely against his chest, one hand on his collarbone, the other grasping around his neck.

he leaned forward into you so pleasantly before moving his arms down to lift you by the waist, setting you down gently on the top of the counter, moaning when you fixed your hands in his hair.

you swallowed down his sounds like elixir, wanted every single one of them, as his wide hands kneaded at the flesh of your hips slowly. you raked your hands down the back of neck delicately, enough to relish in the shudder left in their wake.

finally, you both pulled away, only just, only enough to slow your heaving chests, enough to selfishly see the effect you both had on the other. matching glossed over gazes, swollen lips, exhales heavy with unspoken words.

you pushed some of his hair from his face, soft under your gentle fingers, could have swooned at how he was looking at you, right now. like there was no one else in the universe, like the stars existed only for you.

"i have to go home tomorrow," you said, suddenly, like a ridiculous idiot, wanting to shove the words back into your mouth as he traced light circles across the tops of your thigh. why did you say that?

but his expression didn't change. "i'll come," he said immediately.

your heart jumped, but you didn't want him to come and see your family, really, because family gatherings never were the most flattering, for you. "you don't have to," you said, "i know you're busy, and it's just for a little bit, just for the day."

"i'll come, petal," he repeated.

your mouth quirked, just a bit. "yeah?"

"yeah," he said, a drowsy smile slanting across his face. a smile you couldn't say no to, a smile you just had to feel against your lips.

a smile that meant, the following morning, you were standing on the front step of your childhood home next to jamie, who was holding a potted plant.

"you know you didn't need to bring anything," you said after you rang the doorbell, jittery with nerves. how long had it been?

he only pinched you lightly in the side. "swear i won't drop it this time, petal," he said with the easy tone that calmed your nerves, if only slightly.

and then the door was opening, and you were ushered in among a flurry of hugs and exclamations of it having been to long.

your older brother said you looked different, your mother said you needed to visit more often. you had the sinking feeling that coming home was a mistake.

then came the inevitable. "and who's this handsome young man?" your mother asked in a sugary sweet tone that made the room smell like the dentist's office, at least to you. "is this that friend from work you told me about a while ago?"

you opened your mouth to speak but quickly shut it again, slightly confused, maybe disappointed? other people's parents assumed they were dating any person they spoke to, which you were sure was its own beast, but you had actually brought someone to a family meal and your mom thought he was your coworker?

"uh," you started, struggling to find your footing. "this is jamie."

you wanted to put your forehead through the tastefully muted wallpaper of the mudroom, but jamie only shook your father's hand, endured awkward hugs from your mother and siblings, handed over his plant with practiced grace.

you felt your hands tremble ever so slightly, willed them to still, begged any courage and confidence to show itself, but your chest was tight, like your lungs were filling up with polluted water.

jamie caught your eye, registered your defensive stance, gave you a look full of softness and acceptance before stepping to your side and pulling you in for a gentle side-hug, his embrace strong and sure in all the ways you were not. he pressed his lips to the top of your head, lips you still felt the memory of on your mouth, lips that sent a shiver of stability down your spine. "much better than last time, eh, petal?" he said, looking down at you, still tucked into his side. "no dirt under your nails, this time."

you couldn't help but give a slight shake of your head, squeezed him tighter in a way you hoped said thank you.

when you looked back up to your family, there was an almost comical look of surprise in your mother's eyes, a look of extreme boredom in your siblings'.

you father cleared his throat. "brunch's ready," he said, urging your mother to lead you all to the dining room.

jamie pulled out your chair for you, leaned forward to your ear when you sat down. "look so pretty today," he whispered, his voice a low rasp, only for you, only to help you settle, only because it was the truth.

"you know, jamie, she's never brought someone home before," your mother said at some point during the meal, like it was some kind of inside joke between the two of them, a joke you were not a part of. she shared some kind of look with him, but his face was blank. "honestly, we were starting to get worried." your father and her gave light laughs, laughs that made your stomach roll with anxiety, shame.

good god, couldn't they give you a break? you pushed your food around your plate, very much not hungry, very much wanting to leave.

jamie didn't laugh, though, didn't indulge them, didn't pretend like he was in on their joke. "worried about what?" he asked, his expression and tone entirely plain and curious, waiting patiently for elaboration that never came. his question was met with flickering glances between your parents, nervous laughter dying in their mouths.

you looked down at your plate again, bit your lip to hide your smile, reached under the table to squeeze his hand. he squeezed yours right back.

the rest of the meal was fine. soon enough, you were saying your goodbyes, doling out your own awkward hugs along with vague assurances that you would be back soon.

"and it was so wonderful to meet you, jamie," your mother said, a hand on his forearm, "know you're welcome here anytime."

you pushed aside the spark of jealousy within you. what would it be like to know that for yourself? to feel welcome in this home, whenever you wanted?

jamie just looked at you with that molten softness in his dark eyes. you pushed his hair from his face, the way you had grown accustomed to doing, more a comfort to you at this point. he leaned into your touch, however slightly.

"thank you for having me," he said, politely, before looking at you once more. "'m honored to be the first person petal's felt comfortable enough to bring home."

you could have melted at how genuine he sounded, at the idea that he was honored to be around you, of all things, at all.

when you were both in the car, you turned to him. "you didn't have to say that, you know," you told him as he pulled the car out of the driveway, started the trek home.

he just kept one hand on the wheel, took yours with the other. "wanted to," he said, glancing over at you with a steadiness that was impossible to deny. "meant it."

a smile came easily to your face, a flush came easier. he lifted your hand to his mouth, lightly pressed his lips to the top of it, making you shift in your seat with poorly hidden delight, perfectly warm all over.

you arrived back home, and fell back into your routine.

jamie dropped you off at work the following day, rolling his window down when you got out the passenger door. "petal!" he called.

you turned, that grin that seemed to be every-present around him on your face. "yeah?"

the faintest of blushes began to prick at his cheeks. "can i have a kiss, please?"

you were all too willing to comply, leaning against the side of the car and pulling his lips to yours with a gentle hand on his jaw. "see you later?" you murmured against his mouth, butterflies so alive in your stomach you half believed they would fly up your throat. he nodded, a little dazed, promised to see you after your shift, as he had the day off.

the lovely dizziness began to dull as soon as you entered the coffee shop, as there was a very unexpected guest behind the counter with your friend.

"have you never even heard of a latte?" your coworker seethed, the words hard and angry through her teeth.

"feel free to call this off at any time, sugar," a smug trevor drawled, wearing an apron and a haphazardly drawn name tag.

you set your things down and began to tie your own apron around yourself. "afternoon, lovely," you greeted your friend before looking at the newcomer. "trevor."

he nodded to you with a smile in a greeting of his own before the espresso machine started making a menacing sound.

you took the next customer's order, began to prepare it. "do i wanna know why you appear to be an employee today?"

"lost a bet," he said, looking at your coworker, who grimaced.

"we agreed that if he didn't block five shots against the hawks last week, he'd work a shift," she crossed her arms over her chest. "but already this is more of a punishment for me than for him."

he turned up his smile to the megawatts.

you shook your head with a laugh. "you know this is breaking, like, a billion laws," you said, pouring soy milk into a cup. "we can't just hire randoms to work a single shift."

trevor placed a fake-offended hand over his heart. "i'm not some random," he clarified.

"according to california law, you are," you said, matter-of-factly, finishing off the drink and placing it on the pickup counter.

"oh, whatever, 11, just go," your coworker said, exasperated, "you've already messed up like twelve times in the last two hours."

he pouted, teasing like a kindergarten bully, all grown up. "you wound me, sugar," he said, turning around slowly. "untie my apron for me?"

she took off her bucket hat and whacked him with it. "don't think i've forgiven you, either," she said, pointing a warning finger at him.

"wouldn't dream of it," he cooed, taking out him phone. "haven't i earned a drink for my troubles? jimmy won't be here for another five minutes."

you scrunched up your brow. "jamie?" you groaned for him, "wish you'd called it quits like two minutes earlier. he was just here."

both your coworker and trevor whipped their heads around. "jim dropped you off?"

you nodded. your coworker gave you an impressed grin, held her hand down low for trevor to slap in a high-five. "let's go," she said, pumping her fist.

you rolled your eyes at the two of them. "so the goon squad is working together, now?" you asked.

trevor rested his elbow on the top of your friend's head, making her hiss and bat his arm away. "best team around," he said, smugly, before looking at his phone. "time to go," he stated, accepting the two drinks you pushed into his hands with a thank you. "until next time, sugar," he said, looking at your friend.

"the red line won't hurt you unless you let it," she called out behind him.

you immediately started peppering her with questions about her bet with jamie's teammate, trying to get her to admit she didn't hate him as much as she let on.

"jamie says he just thinks you're hot and doesn't know what to do about it," you told her before she went out back for her break.

she fixed you with a look. "you can tell jamie that his friend better find out what to do about it." you laughed as the door shut behind her.

the rest of your shift went by terribly slowly. it wasn't that busy, and, honestly, you really missed jamie. you had only just found out what his lips felt like on your own, after all, and now you were having a hard time thinking about anything else. no one should feel this overheated, this distracted, while trying to steep peppermint tea and froth oat milk.

too many times, you lost yourself in daydreams about what his thighs felt like underneath you, how his fingers would feel like in your mouth, what his hand would feel like, gripping your hair.

you just wanted to be close to him, as close to him as possible.

by the time your coworker was dropping you off at your apartment, your mouth was practically dry with want, and if someone were to call you desperate, you weren't sure if you would have it in you to care.

you locked the door behind you, the silence in the kitchen and mudroom telling you he was probably in his own room, probably gaming.

you could have whined, thinking you would have to wait until he was done until you could kiss him, touch him, feel him how you wanted to.

you lasted pretty much as long as it took you to change into more comfortable clothes. undeniable want had you rapping your knuckles lightly against his door, exhaling gratefully when a soft come in wafted through the air.

and then the door was open, and he was there, exactly as you had thought him to be. his headset pushed his messy hair up in different directions, his knees spread wide, his posture relaxed.

he made eye contact with you, something warm shining in his gaze as he pushed his mic away from his mouth. "hey, petal," he rasped, his voice weary with use. "you're home."

you nodded, bit your lip, twisted the sole of your foot into the ground slowly. "know you're busy," you said, soft, almost bashful, "but can i just sit with you?" you swallowed down any shakiness. "couldn't stop thinking 'bout you at work."

you knew he wouldn't laugh at you, but were splendidly pleased anyways when he simply nodded, let that smile slant across his face, opened up his arms in invitation, contentment obvious in his expression.

you breathed out and crossed the room to where he sat, lowered yourself onto his lap as he spread his legs apart wider to make you more comfortable. you crossed your legs over his thigh, leaned back into his chest, let the warmth and feeling of him envelop you like a fog. his arms came to reach around you as he kept playing, fiddling with his controller. you could have fallen asleep here, if you weren't so alert, if every inch of your body didn't feel like it was slowly catching flame.

you hummed, shifted your hips back against him, making him let out a soft grunt. "getting comfortable?" he whispered, to which you nodded, smiled, leaned your head against his chest.

you tried to stay still, watch the screen as he played, but something about feeling his breaths against your back, the heat of him pooling in your neck, the firmness of him underneath you, it made you restless, impatient.

so much so that after maybe a few minutes, you were craning your head up to press your lips lightly to his jaw, his throat, just behind his ear, twisting your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck.

he let out a groan, low and dangerous. "thought you just wanted to sit," he said, his mouth quirking up, a tightness to his voice that hadn't been there before.

"changed my mind," you mumbled into his shoulder, grazing your teeth over his deltoid.

"be patient, petal," he rumbled, "wait 'til 'm finished, hm?"

you pouted against his jaw, figured you had done months of waiting, if you counted back to that first day. more than your fair share. you were done being patient.

so, instead of waiting, like he had asked you to, you wordlessly pushed yourself from his chest, sank down to your knees into front of his chair, gently placed your palms on his thighs, forcing his attention to you.

his gaze settled on you like heavy sediment, scorching, bubbling. when he spoke, you felt it against your face like a caress. "fuck, petal, dreamt of you like this."

your smile was slight, sly. "what? on my knees for you, jamie?"

he gave an almost pained shake of his head, made some strained sound of refutation. he set his controller down and pulled off his headset, tossed it aside as you tugged at his sweatpants, rolled your hand over him, hard and hot.

he tilted his head back, groaned. "dreamt of you lookin' at me like this," he confessed, words thick with revelation, "like you want me."

something almost religious passed between you, because what was this, if not something worth worshipping? something built on devotion beyond logic, beyond better judgement?

"i do want you, jamie," you said, finality swimming in your heated tone, "i want you so, so bad."

you bit your lip to hide your grin when he whimpered at your words, his eyes screwing shut as you took him in your hand, spit onto his cock, pumped him up and down before running your tongue along the length of him, drinking in his sounds greedily.

he rooted his thick hand in your hair, draping it away from your face as you sunk your mouth down onto him. "fuck," he choked out, slow and strained, "fuck, petal, you can have me."

you moaned around him, grounded by his grip, the pleasant tug on your scalp, urged him to the back of your throat until your eyes began to water, until his thighs began to tense, before retreating again, peering up at him, eager to take every inch of him in, like this.

so unguarded and uncontrolled, knowing he was thinking only of you, pure want dripping down his frame and face like watercolor, this image of him made you acutely aware of just how wet you already were.

you tugged your hand up and down him again, grinned when he shuddered. "taste so good, jamie," you rasped, running your thumb along the tip, "'ve wanted your cock in my mouth for so long, baby."

his chest rose and fell as he moaned, desperate, overwhelmed. his thumb circled your jaw as you continued moving your hand, spitting onto him again. "should've told me, petal," he whined, "would've given you anything you wanted." his voice shook, you felt his muscles tense again as you took him in your mouth again. "waited so good for me, hm?"

you hummed, held him in your mouth, hollowed out your cheeks until tears broke your waterline, his grunts telling you he was close as you let your nails dig into the tops of his thighs.

"fuck, 'm gonna cum," he breathed, "feel so good like this, petal, too good, can't hold on." his grip in your hair tightened, his hips bucking up, hitting a deeper spot in your throat. he made to pull back, but you only moved your head with him, swallowing around him until you tasted him on your tongue, his moan resounding in your head like an organ in a cathedral.

only after he finished did you pull your mouth up off of him, tilted your head onto your elbow, which was resting on his thigh, red with marks from your clutching hands. you watched him come down from his high, watched his lashes flutter as his eyes opened, felt his grip loosen in your hair and his hand come down to rest under your chin, as gentle and affectionate a touch as you had ever felt.

he led your mouth to his, lifting you off of your knees, slanting his lips across yours like a smile before pulling away, looking at you for a moment, tracing your mouth with his thumb. "look so pretty like this, petal," he praised, low and steady, "so fuckin' perfect."

and you blushed, because you knew how you looked.

you knew that your face was flushed with exertion, knew that spit ran down onto your chin, knew that your lashes were clumped together with tears, knew that your lips with swollen and your neck shone with sweat.

he kissed the corner of your mouth anyways, looked at you like there had never been anything more beautiful. "let me taste you, hm?" he murmured against your skin.

you shivered with pleasure at his words, but whined. "need you so bad, jamie," you pleaded, "need you inside of me." you peered up at him through your lashes. "please?"

he shifted until you hovered above him, tugged your shorts aside, ran his fingers through your folds and cursed at how wet he found you. "anything you want, petal," he rasped, bringing his fingers to his mouth and licking you off of them. "fuck, pretty girl, askin' me so nicely, hm?"

you nodded feverishly, reached under you to find him impossibly hard, again, before angling him to you and sinking down onto him, your knees on either side of his hips.

his head fell back at that first feeling, your mouth dropping open as your body pulled taut at the stretch. you whimpered when he reached behind you to pull you to his chest, changing the angle, while he shifted under you, both of you breathing heavy, searching for something to stop you from floating away.

you settled on letting your heavy head drop to his neck, letting shaky exhales escape past your teeth, melt into his collarbone like snowflakes on windowpanes.

he clutched at your waist, began to slowly move his hips, lifting you up and down in a rhythm that burned behind your eyes, that you felt on your tongue, in your toes.

"how do you feel like this?" he whispered, practically to himself, as if in a dream, as he kept up his pace, slow and brutal.

"like what, baby?" you breathed, picking your head up and beginning to fuck back onto him with more force, wanting to feel him harder, deeper.

"fuck," he whimpered, searching for an answer, his messy hair falling into his face, sticking to the gloss of sweat shining on his brow, "better than i imagined, petal. so perfect, made for me."

you moaned at his admission, reached around his neck for support. "been thinkin' 'bout me, jamie?" you asked, an almost cocky grin peeking through.

"so much," he whined, picking up his pace now, causing you to choke down a strangled moan, "fuck, petal, was worried you'd hear me through the walls."

his confession shot right to your core as you clenched around him, imagining him trying to keep quiet, touching himself, thinking of you. you dug your nails into the back of his neck as he laid a hand across your stomach, pressed down until he could feel the outline of himself inside of you, moving in and out.

the sensation was so intense that you had to shut your eyes, the pressure inside of you pulling so tightly you bit your tongue.

"like that, hm?" he said, only the faintest trace of smugness in his tone. "like that i thought of you with my hand around my cock, petal?"

you nodded, moaned your affirmation, felt yourself grow so deliciously close.

"thought of you, just like this," he breathed into your neck, still pushing at your stomach, hitting somewhere impossibly deep inside you, hard and fast. "squeezing me so perfect, making those pretty sounds for me."

"'m so close, jamie," you pleaded, your voice wrecked, your jaw aching, "please make me cum? need you so bad, been needin' you for so long."

his neck tensed under your palm as his thrusts grew sporadic, his breathing labored. "fuck, petal, cum on my cock, yeah?" his other hand gripped your hip so hard you knew it would leave a mark. "been such a good girl for me."

you came apart at his words, collapsing onto his chest, clenching down on him so completely that he reached another high, warm and absolute. he stilled, both of your chests rising and falling against each other. you ran your fingers soothingly over the back of his neck, he rubbed circles into the sides of your hips as if in a daze.

finally, when the fog cleared like falling rain, you pulled back to look at his face, flushed, long lashes framing heavy lids, his gaze thick and syrupy with affection.

you lightly swept the damp hair from his forehead, pressed a gentle kiss to his brow that made him smile up at you lazily.

he ran his thumb along your cheekbone. "wanna stay in my room, tonight?" he asked, cheekily, like you were kids planning a sleepover, scheming up the best way to ask your parents.

so you just nodded and laughed, and he kissed the laugh from your lips as if it tasted of sugar.

fin.

#hockey #hockey smut #nhl #nhl smut #smut #jack hughes #jack hughes smut #quinn hughes #trevor zegras smut #jack hughes x reader #jamie drysdale imagine #jamie drysdale x reader #jamie drysdale #jamie drysdale smut #anaheim ducks #quinn hughes smut #jamie drysdale x y/n #new jersey devils #luke hughes smut

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perplexingly · 7 months

Text

I've been wanting to write a description of the Watermill Theatre's Lord of the Rings musical for these who were unable to see it, so I'll mention some of the things that stood out to me.

Also first of all, I saw that @emeraldskulblaka was kind enough to compile a masterpost about the musical, sharing the available videos and audios here

Now to the Watermill production:

The audience was encouraged to come 30min before the start of the show to celebrate Bilbo's 111 birthday.

During that time the actors were playing music, talking with the audience, playing games with the audience, I almost got hit in the face as Gimli in front of me failed to catch a ring that was thrown at him : D I saw there are some recordings of this part around, eg:

youtube

While still outdoors, the play started seemlessly with Bilbo's iconic birthday speech. After his disappearing act (in a puff of smoke), we moved indoors and while the audience was settling down, Frodo sat on stage all sad perusing letters

This stage is very tiny but they used it in a clever way; eg. there were moments when, to show the distance, the actors would say their lines behind the audience on the upper ring. They would also utilise the doors at the center stage or the ladders on the sides to climb on. The lighting also gave each scene a lot of character:

Also each actor doubled as a musician, often playing on the edges of the stage but still in full view, giving this interesting illusion of environment.

I think my favourite moment of using actors as parts of the environment was during Sam and Frodo's Now and for Always duet: once they started singing, Bilbo came to sit on the edge, in the shadow, just looking at them, and with each verse a new hobbit/musician came behind, hanging out in the shadows and giving this dreamy idea of Shire. And when Sam fell asleep, there was Rosie coming a bit forward to caress him.

Another such wonderful moment was near the end, when Frodo could go no longer and Sam helped him. The earlier situation when Sam fought off Shelob with Eärendil's light reminded the viewer of Galadriel's - and the elves - indirect help. And when Sam put his arms around Frodo to guide him, quietly, in the shadows around them illusions of elves appeared to show them the way and to catch them when they stumbled.

Speaking about the plot point - act 1 encompassed the first of the trilogy while the second act the other two. To achieve this condensation in the second act, most characters that were not directly related to the fellowship were either removed or merged with other, eg. Denethor and Theoden were combined into one, with the Rohan/Gondor politics removed altogether. But honestly, I thought it was the smarter choice, as we get the time to get attached to the main cast.

One more thing I'd like to mention were the practical effects. While ents were just an off-stage voice, when they were talking there were leafs falling down from the ceiling. But the most impressive was Shelob, which was a giant puppet with real-like leg movement, mostly in shadow except for the reflective eyes. I saw that there's an early test for Shelob posted on Instagram:

Also, I talked about Gollum in an earlier post, but I just wanted to make a quick illustration of the adorable moment between Gollum and Bilbo that I saw in the epilogue:

#lord of the rings #gosh I want to watch it again so bad #I didn’t want to write every single thing but it turned out long anyway hdhdjd sorry

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vinnytotherescue · 7 months

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Hello! Can I request a drabble in which the reader is very affectionate with V’s familiars (kisses and pets) and how he would react to it? Thank you so much!

i love this so much! we are just going to ignore the fact that I just learned that Shadow is a male...How did i not notice while playing-_-

also, Shadow i only focused on griffon and shadow hope you don't mind!

warnings: none pure fluff

V x Reader: Cuddles with the familiars

Being V’s significant other ultimately meant being able to tolerate two seemingly dangerous and overly protective familiars. That made V very anxious since he knew that not a lot of people would be able to handle such creatures. Their dark nature always scared people away. Yet you were not scared, you were fascinated. Somehow, you could even say that you had some kind of invisible bond with both Griffon and Shadow. From the moment you met them you fell in love with them and they with you, V never understood that but he nevertheless he was very grateful.

Opening the door to your shared apartment you were faced with a silent V reading his book. Two seconds passed and before you could properly enter you were tackled down by shadow, griffon flying right next to your head. V turned his head to observe the scene, something that would occur every time you would return from work. But still it wasn’t something you could get used to.

“Took you long enough huh (y/n)? Shadow got worried over there” Shadow just gave Griffon a death stare and continued laying in your lap. V had gotten off the couch by now and was standing next to you with a smirk on his face.

“Griffon don’t be mean to Shadow, or we both know where you will end up” A giggle left your mouth and you turned to see and extended hand waiting for you to take it.

“I see, i think they like you more than me” V pulled you to your feet and you wrapped your arms around his waist , burying your head in the crook of his neck.

“That’s not true and you know it” The room filled with your giggles as you stared into V’s green eyes. After detaching yourself from him you dragged him back to the couch this time your head in his lap. Your head was pounding like crazy from the intensity of your day at work and the only thing you could think about was how you were going to relax with V close to you.

“Hard day at work?” his velvety voice was so soothing to your ears after the screaming and yelling in the office. Nero and Dante were a handful to manage. Your body curled closer to his as you nodded and you could feel your muscles relax as he stroked your head. A small smile found its place on your face as you felt something warm curling on your legs. You slightly raised your head and was faced with a sleepy Shadow.

“You are sleepy too my boy?” you pet the huge jaguar as he now lay still on your legs, his dense fur providing warmth to your tired body. Griffon felt left out completely so he came and took his usual place close to your chest, your arms slowly curling around him, careful not to hurt his beautiful wings. V could feel his heart warm up at the sight. He never expected this turn of events, he was beyond relieved that you three were so close. You always wanted some kind of a pet and V having two familiars was just perfect.

Kissing both Griffon and Shadow on their heads you felt your eyes become more and more droopy as time passed by.

“Don’t I get a kiss?” V stared at you his eyebrows raised from the lack of attention from you. You turned your head toward him mouthing a soft sorry in your way and placed a kiss on his cheek. After seeing his deadpan expression you tiredly giggled again and gave him a normal kiss on the lips.

Your lips parted and you just went back to your original position, one arm hugging Shadow and one hugging Griffon.

“Want me to read you a bit?” You quickly nodded your head at the suggestion and closed your eyes enjoying his smooth voice filling the room.

“I love you all”

The words slowly started to merge into one and your breathing slowed down as you surrendered to dreamland.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

thank you for reading!! ;)

#devil may cry #devil may cry 5 #devil may cry x reader #dmc 5 #dmc dante #dmc nero #dmc v x reader #dmc vergil #dmc x reader #v dmc5 #v dmcv #v devil may cry #v x reader #requests open #reqs open #request

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simp4konig · 8 months

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"Can't sleep?" König x Gender-neutral Reader

Word count: 3704

Having flashbacks about the battlefield and unable to fall asleep after an exceptionally draining mission, you go seek the comfort of your Colonel in the middle of the night.

*Slow burn

*ANGST!!💔... dw it gets wholesome at the end i promise ❤️

*Thanj you to Azzy!! (My No.1 Fan...🥹🫂💘) for this request !!!🙋🏼‍♀️💫💞💞✨Love u too🫶💕,, I kind of 🥺slightly🥺 maube a littke bit🥺🥺🥺went off prompt and König isnt affected by the mission per se BUT i have fulfilled the CUDDLING part!!! ☺️☺️pls dont show up to my fhome with pitchforks and torches im sry it just sorta happened ok😱

Also i rhink i have dementia bc I thought someone else rqsted König comfortinf rreader in a storm???😰😰Turns out nobody did so maybe i hallucinated it or smtj idk🤷🏼‍♀️Anyways I thought to merge these two ideas together so lmk what u think abt this lil (by "lil" i mean WAY too long🤪) drabble🙏💕

*Reader is pining for König

*Events loosely take place in the KönigxKing (as in, reader's call-sign is "King" storyline) mini-series. This serves as a slight backstory for King (reader). Again, this is by no means in any chronological order in relation to the series, so this can also be read as stand-alone! :)

*THANK YOU FOR 100+ FOLLOWERS!!!!!! 🥳🎉🎊✨🎇💖I SWEAR ONE IT LITERALLT FEELS LIKE MID-AUGUST WHEN I HAD LIKE 7 WHERE DID U ALL COME FEOM??????😰😰💘 IT MEANS SO MUCH FOR ME LIKE I CANR STRESS THIS ENOIGH BC IM SO HAPPG U GUYS THINK MEWORTHY ENOIGH OF YOUR PRECIOUS FOLLOW AND WANT TO READ MY WACK WORKS!!!!!!🤧🤧💖💖 LIKE??????? 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹THANK U THABK YOU RHABK YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 🫶🥰🥰💖💖💖❤️💞💞💕💖💕💕💞

...

You couldn't sleep.

It was raining relentlessly outside, the pitter-patter of water droplets hitting your window. Storm clouds boomed loudly outside, and despite the blinds being pulled tightly shut, lightning occasionally flashed through the cracks, elongated shadows of buildings forming on the walls.

Counting down the seconds until you'd hear the rumbling thunder, it would only be a few kilometres away, and you'd shudder at the sound, shivering.

While tossing and turning in bed, you had kicked off your covers and were staring at the ceiling, still wide awake. Normally, a storm like this would be like a lullaby to your ears, yet now it did nothing in helping lull you to sleep.

Even if you wanted to sleep, how could you when those corpses haunted your nightmares?

Laying in bed, your mind replayed the same scenes like a movie reel, the same screams like a broken record:

Lifeless, unblinking eyes with mouths agape and an expression of fear permanently engraved on their pale faces; flies swarming in hordes to harvest the soft tissues of the irises and tongue, eating the human mush; limbs contorted in unnatural positions, arms and legs crushed by the force of detonated mines, bones broken under the weight.

Rumbling roaring of machine guns and the deafening explosions from hand grenades meant that the high-pitched ringing would drown out everybody's yelling, muffle all noise from your surroundings, and you'd only be pulled out of your daze when you'd find yourself stumbling on unstable ground, on bricks and cheap concrete that had all crumbled.

Bodies would drop so fast it'd take at least seconds for you to register whether it had been an enemy or an ally.

You'd pull the trigger, but seeing a bullet go through someone's forehead and the exaggerated shock stamped on their face — a permanent expression in their final seconds remaining forever in death — left you wondering why you would ever sign up willingly to do this.

Disorientated, you'd struggle to pull yourself together, would enter far too many close calls for a soldier to count, and would only get a grip once you saw a familiar face, a reminder that you weren't alone in the warzone.

Even now, the sonorous sound kept echoing in your head, and, if you listened closely, it resembled hundreds of hoarse shouts, so many people screaming at once in collective agony.

You flinched as a bolt of lightning suddenly struck the sky.

Sparing an absentminded glance at your digital alarm clock, your eyes widened slightly at the time: 1:56am.

Damn... you thought. ...it's that late already?

Drills would begin at 7 o'clock, and you had to have woken up at 6 to brush your teeth, get dressed, eat, and mentally prepare yourself for the day, so you kissed a good night's sleep goodbye, and accepted the telling off from your superiors the following morning for under-performing.

...Still, how could you sleep after what you had experienced? What you experienced and would continue experiencing?

Accepting high-pressure missions and a demanding workload once you had enlisted, you thought that your ability to keep calm under pressure and stay composed would mean that you would have been unaffected by the shooting by now, and be taking everything in your stride. Calm, composed, and unaffected, is what you had thought you'd be. Surely you'd be able capable enough to cope with it all?

Yet, you weren't any of those things. Never getting used to the stress that would persist even while on supposedly "low-intensity" extractions. You'd always be on edge, always recoiling at hands that would reach over to tap your back as encouragement or hold your shoulder in reassurance on base.

You believed you could never familiarise yourself with the panic and unpredictability of missions and being hyper-aware of something, anything, everything going wrong, with the adrenaline that would course through your body and take over your senses in times of fight or flight, with the nerves that would keep you on edge hours after landing safely on base.

But, most of all, with the nights you'd lay in bed, unable to fall asleep: nights like these, when every time you closed your eyes, you saw the eyes of dying comrades; when every time you walked along the corridors, imagined yourself diving across the floor and felt shattered shrapnel breaking under your feet; when every time you sat in an empty room, heard ear-piercing blasts and the ricochet of discarded shells just missing your head.

Whereas the other operators seemed to be completed unmoved by any of their deployments and would shrug their shoulders off of the events, the anxiety for you lingered, trauma deep within your soul consuming you whole.

How could you ever get over the fact that you were shooting real people? Losing real soldiers?

...Losing yourself along the way?

All this work took a toll on your psyche, but comparing yourself to the other soldiers made you feel like such a coward, and second-guess ever enlisting in the first place.

...Well, you did so because it had been your only option all things considered, but looking back on it, you thought that maybe it would have been better if you hadn't chosen anything at all.

Accepted the grave nature of your failures in life, the same life that would have had inevitably ended with you pre-maturely in a grave.

After all, you had no job prospects to look forward to, no dreams to strive for, no aspirations to achieve.

Failing your school exams time and time again until you had finally achieved a result that was good enough didn't earn you any security, as you weren't exactly employable with grades you had just barely managed to claw to even pass.

Really, it was hopeless. You were hopeless.

To say your family was disappointed in you would have been an understatement. Out of three children, you were labelled the disappointment child, the underachiever and failure.

Your two siblings worked as a lawyer and an engineer respectively, while you had never even been able to grasp the basics in education, never spoke with your teachers of anything other than the worrying results of your exams, never came home to share a thing with your parents you had accomplished with a smile of pride stretched on your young face like your siblings did.

Never. Because you weren't ever good enough.

At the dinner table, your siblings boasted of promotions and of revolutionary research, of trials and of successes, of their brilliant breakthroughs, as you sat on the side of the table, listening from the sidelines, excluded from all of the grandeur that you couldn't relate to.

Still, it was always better to keep your mouth shut than to make a dent in the conversation, further embarass yourself and prove how lowly you were, than to have so many pairs of pitying eyes talking down on you in patronising tones, of the subtle condolences from your parents and their regret with triumphant smirks and condescending attitude from your siblings.

In a last ditch effort to make your parents proud, you made the decision of joining the military. You were young and impressionable, under the impression that your parents would finally be impressed.

...Of course, they weren't. In fact, your decision made them even more disappointed, shaking their heads sympathetically with strained smiles stretched on their lips.

Maybe that was the reason you couldn't handle the pressure of the military, you thought. You were weak, incompetent. Pathetic.

Although no one told you explicitly or made you feel that way directly, somehow, you always had felt inferior. Somehow, you felt that no matter what you did, how much you did, how well you thought you did, you wouldn't ever come close to the others's level.

That, despite your effort and dedication, you would never be good enough. Would always be inferior no matter what, because you always had been and would always be so.

...Your Colonel never made you feel that way, though, and you never quite understood why.

After all, your interactions were few-far-and-inbetween. It made you wonder what made you feel this way, and what spark ignited the warmth you'd feel when he was around.

Although a man of few words, the words that he did say to you would matter, though. His praise, his acknowledgement, his always being there made you want to keep going and prove your worth to him.

It started off as sporadic encouragement:

Your skin glistening with sweat, an accented voice would say "Gute Arbeit," over your crumpled body on the gym mat.

Offering you a gloved hand, you grasped it gratefully, and he pulled your tired body with ease. "Good job, King."

A lopsided smile from you as you'd wipe the sweat from your forehead and brows after sparring with someone else, limp limbs barely keeping you standing. His eyes were betrayed no emotion under his veil, yet a thin-lipped grin was behind it.

"Thank— you— sir!" You'd manage to breathe out, still panting for breath. "I did— my best, but— I didn't win."

"That does not matter," he'd say, speaking in a tone you couldn't quite recognize. "Very good job. Keep it going. Soon, you'll be able to pin even me down."

You'd laugh weakly at his words, yet would immediately feel a surge of motivation to keep working hard, and would train up to the point of exhaustion behind closed doors. Thinking you'd be alone, you'd punch a dufflebag with grunts of effort, missing the tall silhouette observing you with crossed arms in the corner, satisfied.

Then, those became casual greetings;

"Guten Morgen, soldier. Nice day, ja?"

Turning around, you'd see your Colonel walking towards you, frame visible even from a distance.

You smile broadly, eyes crinkling up in genuine joy, before you caught yourself and coughed. "Y-yeah!"

"Always a nice day whenever you're around, sir," you'd tease, playfully winking at him as he approached you, yet you were yet to master it without blinking both eyes.

He'd chuckle heartily, flattered, then shook his head to hide how his face flushed under his veil, and held up a hand.

"Thank Gott I have you here. My day would have been ruined."

"Have a good day, sir!" You'd call after him brightly, and he'd turn around for a final time with a two-fingered salute. Strange, since he was your superior, not the other way around, but you shrugged this off as a friendly gesture.

Until it developed into a sort of mutual connection.

In your eyes, at least.

You didn't want to assume that you two were friends, as the man was way out of your league. Strong, muscular, and a disciplined soldier — a Colonel, no less — a man of influence.

Besides, he, conversing with the only-recently-recruit-turned-soldier that was the slowest to understand a joke, did not comprehend complicated terms, and was the least bright out of the entire faction was not something you wanted him to be associated as, didn't want to tarnish his reputation.

You reasoned that you didn't want to bring down the Colonel down to your low level, so you kept your relationship as just that; associates. Aquaintances. Nothing more, out of respect for your Colonel.

Little did you know, the Colonel had developed a soft spot for you.

It seemed as though the storm had gotten worse, as the rain was unrelenting, and the tapping on the glass increased with force. Booming thunderclouds made your room shake.

A sigh as you turned to your side again. 2:07am.

Your thoughts moved back to your Colonel, and you started missing him, longing for him. The warmth that radiated off him made you wish he'd take you in his arms, hold you close to his chest, and you suddenly felt so cold. So lonely and cold.

Maybe it was childish of you to be feeling this way — he was your superior, after all, and you had no reason to be so attached — yet your daily encounters made you gain feelings for the man. Made you feel things when he was around.

Somehow, he brought you security. Made you feel protected. Safe. Like you could always count on him for having your back.

Made you forget that you were so useless, and was the reason for the fuzzyness within your chest, the buzzing feeling you'd feel as you'd be grinning from ear to ear after speaking to him.

Made you feel like you weren't pathetic. Weren't a wasted wishing star. Instead, you were appreciated, seen, even.

You wanted to see him. You wanted to be with him.

...Would he want you, though?

No. Of course he wouldn't. You weren't good enough.

A deep sigh. 2:15, the digital alarm clock displayed.

...What if he actually did want you? Not even as a partner, but just to be around him? Breathe the same air as him? You thought you weren't worthy of his time, but maybe, just maybe he wouldn't see it as such a waste.

Another crash of lightning brought you to your senses.

Finally making up your mind, you huffed in exertion as you pushed yourself off your stiff mattress, not bothering to organize the mess of blankets on the floor.

Walking with certainty, before you realised it, you were at König's bedroom door. Standing behind the door, hand hesitatingly reaching for the handle, you bit your lip, confidence wavering.

Should you really go through with this right now? What if he was asleep at that moment and all you'd do is disrupt his slumber? It wouldn't be fair of you to disturb him so late in the night, especially when he had so many responsibilities.

Still, you inhaled deeply, and, as quietly as you could, knocked twice.

You almost jumped out of your skin at the familiar accented voice of your Colonel.

"Come in," he said hoarsely. His tone was almost warm, inviting, yet you shook your head at the idea, and pulled the handle.

Entering inside, you slowly closed the door behind you. When you turned around, König was sitting on the edge of his bed, elbows resting on his knees, seemingly deep in thought. Wearing a tank top and cargo pants, his head was hung low, his veil hanging loosely over his head.

The blinds were drawn open to reveal the sky dominated by darkness, the grey curtain of monochrome on the nearest buildings cast down by the clouds, the raindrops that remained on the windows and the rhythmic echoes against the pavement as they dropped in syncopation.

The sight, his presence, were both so... relaxing. In a way, your anxiety was relieved by the tranquility of the scene, and it made you forget the internal turnoil you had been going through for the past few hours, made the tension in your body fade.

"Ah, King," his arms dropped to his sides and he raised his head to meet your eyes in the dark. "I had a feeling that it would be you."

You fidgeted nervously, not knowing what to do.

"Bitte, schön," he said, patting the empty space beside him on the mattress. "Please, sit down. I insist."

Slowly lowering yourself to his side, you sat at a reasonable distance away from him. With the both of you sat down, the size difference was still very noticable. His height made him hunch over you, and one of his thighs was like the two of yours combined.

So nervous, you didn't even notice how his back slumped so you'd be both at a similar level.

He cleared his throat. "What brings you here so late in the night?"

An awkward tug of your t-shirt collar.

"Can't sleep," you stated simply.

"I see." He was quiet for a few moments. Then: "And you decided that my room was the place to go?"

Your face heated up, and you averted your gaze. "Well, sir, it's j-ju—"

"—Nein," he cut you off, holding up a hand to stop you. "I have told you so many times not to call me that. Call me König."

"But— but you're my superior," you gasped, mouth agape. "You deserve to be addressed with respect! I couldn't possibly—"

The protest died on your lips again as the man shook his head, the loose material of his veil following his movements. "Nein. None of that matters. I want you to call me by my first name."

A heavy silence lingered over the two of you, words left unsaid by you both.

"So," König prompted, "what brings you here, King?"

Pausing to think over a pretence, the best you could come up with was: "The storm scared me."

"Ja?" Even with the fabric covering his face, you could almost see the skeptical smirk on his lips.

"A soldier like you afraid of loud clouds? Some rain?" He chuckled.

"Really, I'd have thought you better than that, King." If you didn't know him well enough, you'd have thought he was mocking you, yet despite the sarcasm his eyes held a genuine concern for you.

An bashful laugh escaped you as you rubbed your arm, nails slightly digging into your skin.

"Okay, tell me the truth, King," Leaning forward, his tone became serious. "I know for certain you aren't scared."

He searched for your eyes, yet you avoided his gaze.

"Something is troubling you. Is that it?" He cocked his head to the side, fabric falling loosely over his shoulder. "You can tell me, King. I am your superior, you know. You should tell me these things."

"Well... it's j-just—"

You bit your lip, willing the tears to stay in your eyes.

Don't cry. Don't you dare cry.

König watched you, patiently waiting for you to continue.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, vulnerability showing in your eyes. "—This recent mission, it was— it was really, really difficult. And I just..."

König shuffled towards you until your knees were almost touching, watching you intently. As your body trembled, a hand hovered in uncertainty by your shoulder.

Sniffling, you wiped the wetness on your face with your arm, voice breaking.

"I-I just think that I'm not strong. That I'm... weak. Not— not good enough to be working with people that are so much better. So much stronger—"

Your breath hitched in your throat, voice coming out in a broken sob. "—I-I mean— I'm so pathetic. I shouldn't be so... weak. I should — I should be better. Wh-why—"

Tears flowed freely down your face. "—Why can't I be better, König? Why am I so— so useless?"

Without saying anything, König wrapped his strong arms around your body and pulled you against his chest, pulled you close so you could let it all out. For a few moments, he let you cry, ever-so-gently stroking the back of your head, fingers running through your hair. Weeping into his chest, his steady breathing soothed you.

Once you recovered enough from your emotions, you pulled away, downcast. Face red and blotchy with tears, eyes puffy and pink from crying, lips quivering and voice hoarse, you felt so pathetic. So, so pathetic.

"F-fuck, s-si— König—" Trembling. "I'm so so sorry. I'm too emotional, please, I'm sor—"

"Nein." His tone was soft, yet firm. Definitive. "You have nothing to apologise for, King."

Both hands cupped the sides of your face, tentatively tilting your face upwards. His expression was forlorn, and you felt tears brimming in your eyelids again.

"...You're not weak. You're not pathetic. You're not useless. I see you always trying so hard, King, always giving it your all..."

He paused for a few moments, deliberating over how best to put his thoughts into words. "...Maybe... maybe your best isn't the best out of anyone's bests, but it's the effort that counts." He rubbed the back of his neck, then let out a mono-syllabic laugh. "Scheiße, did that make sense? Sorry— I'm not good with words—"

You glanced away. "—Hey," his hand reached to hold to side of your face. "Look at me, King."

"You're not weak, not pathetic, not useless," he repeated, voice wavering.

"You're none of those. You're better than you think you are. Your inner strength," a finger pointed at your chest, "your heart, it's so full of goodness. So full of so many good things that don't define you, but instead changed you for the better."

"Maybe... maybe you aren't the aren't the best, haven't been the best, or never will be the best, but it's not your fault. You try so hard, and the odds... the odds are stacked against you. And, sometimes... sometimes it's okay to not be the best. You don't have to be fearless, the strongest, perfect. You can just be... you."

His eyes were pleading in the dark. "Please don't doubt yourself. You're so— so much better than you imagine."

A shaky breath. "So much stronger than you tell yourself. I can promise you, you are your own person. Other people's successes don't define you."

König turned around to glance at his alarm. 2:36.

When he turned back, your face had slowly regained the colour on your cheeks, eyes sparkled, chest rose and fall at a steady pace. You said nothing, yet König knew you listened to every one of his words.

"Looks like it's too late for you to fall asleep in your own room," he whispered, gently caressing your face. "Stay here with me, King."

Eyes immediately widening in surprise, you were about to protest. "B-but— I couldn't possibly, König—"

That protest died on your lips as König's arms engulfed you again, and brought you down against his mattress so you were laying on his chest. Cocooned like a protective blanket over you, you didn't need him to say anything more. You felt so... safe. Loved.

The storm outside seemed to calm down, and lightning no longer crashed against the window. Rain faltered, and some clouds were separating in the darkness of the sky.

Before you knew it, your eyelids became heavy with drowsiness, feeling a wave of calm wash over you, cleansing away your sorrows.

Just before you fell asleep, you heard König say something in German, barely above a whisper, but you did not understand:

"Schlaf gut Schatz. Ich liebe dich."

...

I don't know who needed to hear that, or if anyone even did, but I stand by the words I wrote. Although you are reading this, and are likely a stranger, and I'll never face you in real life, I want you to know that you *are* good enough. And if it takes a person on the internet using a fictional character to tell you so, then so be it. You are still valid. 🫂

...

Note: i rhink some of the ppl that read my previous fics will be able to tell that i went tryhard mode on this one 💀💀

Its mostly bc im back in school and were going over all the stupid fancy shmancy literative devices and figurstive language (god why cant u call it literallt anything else i swear why does it have ro be so unnecessarily overcomplicated just call it sentence structures or writing techniques istg.man😭)so i unconsciously chanelled all of thise boring technicalities into this 😬

With me writing as a hobby you'd think I'd have the highest grades in English? No💔I wish LMAO

I NOW HAVE 130+ FOLLOWERS!!! Which is unbelievable if u wsk me bc etf why wre eo mwnt people following me i don't deserve this qt ALL 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 THANK YOU ALL 🥹🥹🥹🫶🫶🫶💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓

I still remember when @puff0o0⭐ began their self-aware au with König and Ghost qnd ive qlways veen cheerint for her from the sidelines ☺️☺️come to find out shes been mentioning ME in THEIR podts and writing on their blofs thwt my CoD blog is good and i.????😭😭😭cant????????😭😭😭😭😭 Literally -99999 damage and an ARROW 🏹 STRAIGHT thru the HEART 💘🥹 I LOVE U B (platonically ofc dw)😽💕💓💓❤️💞💞💕💞💕💞💞💞💕

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meraki-yao · 8 months

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RWRB Movie Analysis: Who I am and Who you want me to be

“For Christ Sake, Alex! For once! I wish you could see me for who I am and not who you want me to be!”

“Starting today, the world will know me for who I am, and not who you want me to be.”

Okay so let’s take a look at these two lines, shall we?

Henry views his own self as two facets: Prince Henry, and Henry Fox.

Prince Henry belongs to Britain. He is a servant of the crown. He has to prioritize the crown’s image, what the crown wants. The mindless ribbon cuttings, the convention and appearances, the hiding in the closet, it's what's demanded of Prince Henry. Prince Henry cannot pursue a relationship with a man because he has to maintain a “traditional royal image”. Prince Henry cannot be seen walking through Austin holding hands with Alex because “the nation will simply not accept a prince who is homosexual".

Henry Fox, is a romantic and a dreamer. He wants to be a writer and live in Paris. He called his first time with Alex "making love". He wore a white suit to a vacation, wowed at his boyfriend's family lake house even if he lives in a palace and jokes with his boyfriend's father. He plays volleyball and reads while lying in a hammock. He rants about literature, poetries and books. He watches Bake-off with his dog while eating Jaffa Cakes when he can't sleep. He does tequila shots and sings Queen in karaoke. He laughs when Alex splashes water all over him and kisses his shoulder.

The public, see Prince Henry.

Alex, sees both, but knows Henry Fox intimately. When you ask him to talk about Henry, he will think of Henry Fox.

So here's the thing.

Henry, is ultimately, both. He is the Prince of England's Hearts. He is also the boy who has been in love with Alex for years.

But Henry feels like one is more important than the other.

So in the Kensington confrontation, when Henry says “I wish you Could see me for who I am and not who you want me to be!"

"Who I am" refers to Prince Henry.

"Who you want me to be "refers to Henry Fox.

From Henry's perspective, in this scene, he's prioritizing Prince Henry. He thinks that he has to be Prince Henry first and foremost. That's why he's labelling that facet as "who he is", even though he has mentioned before that he doesn't want to be this image of the "perfect prince", that being Prince Henry requires him to hide pieces of himself and it hurts.

What he's saying here, is essentially Alex is not taking "Prince Henry" into considerations regarding their relationship, that he's being idealistic on the degree of freedom Henry has. He's saying that all Alex sees is Henry Fox, his private, true, personal side, that Henry, at that moment, thinks is less important than Prince Henry, which bless him, but is sort of true on Alex's part. Alex is so used to being with Henry Fox that he forgets about Prince Henry, which is why he talked about their future so casually with not much regards on Henry's part.

So this sentence can be rephrased as "I wish you could see all the burden I carry and how impossible it is for me to escape it, rather than just our happy moments together that are not meant to last.”

Now let's look at the Buckingham Confrontation, where the words are flipped: "Starting today, the world will know me for who I am, and not who you want me to be."

This time "Who I am" is Henry Fox, and "Who you want me to be" is Prince Henry, which I would say is the objective allocation of the two names.

This is Henry reclaiming his own identity and image. This is Henry pushing away the traditional, perfect, heterosexual “Prince Henry”, saying “That’s not who I am”, taking that title and merging it with bits of “Henry Fox”: the gay prince in love with FSOTUS, the romantic who writes poetry about his man’s body, the lover who encourages Alex when he loses his confidence.

There are parts of Henry Fox that they don’t show the public, that should be kept between him and his loved ones: the boy whose heart broke when his father died, the boy who struggles with self-worth and depression, the boy who likes grabbing his boyfriend’s hair. Honestly as a public figure, or anyone who interacts with a group of strangers, it’s completely normal to create a public persona that only shows parts of him.

The difference now is that he gets to decide what to show the public. Prince Henry is no longer a straight-up lie, rather than an incomplete version of Henry Fox. This is his identity to claim, and his image to build.

Now, Prince Henry and Henry Fox both belong to him.

Now, Henry George Edward James Hanover-Stuart Fox can write his own history.

#red white and royal blue #rwrb #rwrb movie #alex claremont diaz #henry hanover stuart fox #henry fox mountchristen windsor #firstprince #nicholas galitzine #taylor zakhar perez #rwrb thoughts #rwrb movie analysis #again just my two cents on it #coming from the fact i used to do this #as in compartmentalize my identity #meta #rwrb meta #rwrb analysis #meraki essay

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teyamsatan · 7 months

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ᴋɪɴᴋᴛᴏʙᴇʀ ᴅᴀʏ xɪɪɪ - ɪɴ ᴘᴜʙʟɪᴄ

pairing: neteyam x human!reader

➽ a/n: finally, a new drabble! i'm actually quite happy with this one, and you better read until the end for a (hopefully) nice surprise! ly besties, smooches and xoxos

➽ words: >700 words

➽ warnings: it goes without saying, but all of these works (kinktober-related) are smut and therefore minors should NOT interact with them. other warnings include: fingering, tiny little degradation, tiny bit of praise

➽ taglist (x) ➽ kinktober masterlist (x)

A moan - small and insignificant, you thought, pushing past your plump lips like the air through the trees on a particularly stormy night. But he heard it, and that was enough for the movement to cease, enough for the pleasure bubbling up in your core to dissipate almost as quickly as it began. A shiver - down your spine, at his hushed purring words, his voice sweet like honey and molten like the lava in the Pandoran volcanoes you’ve only but heard about and envisioned in dreams and fantasies.

“What did I say happens if you make a noise?”

A sharp inhale - looking around the room, where Na’vi and humans stood alike, focused intently on the motion picture displayed clearly on a big projector. Like in a cinema, you were told. Humans love movies, they go out of their ways to experience them the way they were intended, and Norm insisted - no movies unless on a proper screen. It was nice. A stepping stone in the right direction, in the continuous if not a bit unrelenting desire to improve intra-species relationships and merge the now two coexisting words. So maybe what you were doing now was good, right? Cooped up under a blanket in between your best friend’s thighs, his fingers knuckle deep in your soaking cunt, hitting spots inside of you you didn’t even know were possible, his thumb drawing circles on your clit… It’s progress, right? You’re… building up rappor with the Omaticaya… right?

A promise of four purple bruises - as his hand digs into your hip, willing you for an answer you didn’t want to give him, because if you did, it would mean facing harsh reality.

“Answer me, yawne.”

Whispered touches on your folds - as he teases you with the promise of more, as he tortures you with the lack of it. It’s heaven and hell, just like his whole entire being is. Neteyam was the perfect man, an angel on paper - sent from above to heal, to mend, to be everything anyone’s ever wanted of him. The perfect son. The perfect soldier. The perfect sibling. The perfect friend. The devil in actuality- like he was now, in the confines of the privacy you normally found yourselves in when like this, desperate to own you, possess you, eager to strip you of your clothes and sanity layer by layer until you were nothing but a fucked-out shell of who you were at the beginning of the night, until you were begging him to stop… until you were begging him for more.

“S-stop. You said you’d… stop.”

A low chuckle - evil and mischievous, filled with underlying ache and a deep desire to put you over his knee and show you how good girls are supposed to behave. Later. Right now, he wants to see you squirm, he wants to hear you struggle to keep that pretty little mouth shut as he makes you come on his fingers over and over, until you’re squirting and mewling and crying, until you inevitably fail and he has to watch you scramble for a lie, stumble on your words as you say to the people watching in confusion that the movie was just that emotional.

“That’s right. So what am I supposed to do now, mm?”

A whine - desperate and pitiful, as you grind on his drenched fingers, looking for any relief, any friction that could alleviate the emptiness in you. The chuckle was a full blown laugh now, perfectly matched to a particularly funny scene in the movie. It wasn’t weird when everybody else laughed, too, right? Neteyam couldn’t have told anyone asking what was going on on the screen if they paid him, and well, he was glad because this… this was so, so much better.

“Keep go…argh! Keep going, fuck!”

A moan - as he enters you again, two of his large fingers stretching you like a dream, hitting spots inside of you you didn’t even know existed. All of a sudden the world, this room, they were null in your mind, and you were alone with just him, with just these feelings and the man who was making them real, with the orgasm you felt rapidly approaching and what you knew would be the beginning of a long, long night.

“There we go. My little slut, taking my fingers so well. Maybe it’s time to give this people a real show, huh… Vol?”

taglist: @pandoraslxna @sulieykte @blue-slxt @eywaeveng @neteyamsikran @elenamoncada-ibarra @spicymayyo @itsjazzsworld @daddysmurfslefttoenail @eyrina-avatar @iameatingmyhair @hadesbabygurl@linydoll @the-mourning-moon @kasai-https @dvxsja (if your tag doesn't work pls check your settings x)

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squib-2006 · 7 months

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Dr pt2 spoiler warning

This was a fantastic set of episodes

• Kai and wyldfire are everything. Kai having to deal with someone who acts like he did in the earlier seasons is poetic justice and funny as hell.

• I also like how they kinda tried to explain why Kai seemed calm after sea bound and nyas seaifcation. I guess Kai meditating with wu would make him calmer. At least it confirms that Kai was upset (even if they didn’t show it)

•I am kinda upset that nothing from skybound was brought up with the Djinn. I personally don’t really like skybound but I still find that it could be used more than just oh yah that happened right wink wink. I mean we had to suffer through skybound for something right?

• I actually really liked sora and nyas whole plot with the Djinns curse. It was fun and had a nice conclusion.

• Coles return is great I love his little gang in the land of forgotten things. My favorite has to be the skeleton girl (I forgot her name probably cuz they only say it like 2 times) she’s funny.

• I do wish there was a scene where nyas like btw I found Cole and the other ninja react. I mean she does mention it at the end but no one except Zane has any real reaction.

• Beatrix going off the rails was really funny. It felt like someone gave a teen with daddy issues an insta death weapon.

• rapton switching sides kinda came out of left field for me. Like the guy isn’t the brightest bulb in the box I think it would be more likely for other characters to switch sides. Also how did he recover from being tased so quickly? Man was out cold and not two minutes later he was up and walking around.

• kinda felt that the whole being sucked into non existence should have had more lasting effects (totally not because I want to traumatize or brutally injure Kai no why would I want that /s) tho fake out deaths are pretty par for the course with ninjago, this one actually didn’t make me feel all that much cuz I knew the moment wyldfire got pulled in that this was a fake out. They wouldn’t kill one of there new characters that quickly.

•so wus just legitimately fudging dead. Never thought we would see the day when this old mad would just peace out. Also ghost wu legit looks like he’s slowly loosing his form or something cuz in the first half he appears with his full body but in the last scene he’s in he’s just a chest and a head. It might have just been a stylistic thing tho.

•I’m not mad jay only showed up for around 30 seconds (this just might be my bias tho cuz jays probably the ninja I care the least about, not that I hate him or anything he’s just not that interesting to me) it’s kinda refreshing for me cuz nya gets to be her own character for a bit and not be completely attached to Jay and Jay gets to take up less screen time (if I am being honest Jay had so much focus in the wild brain seasons it kinda got annoying to me personally) idk if he’s actually lost his memories or if that leak is wrong cuz it would make sense cuz he has not searched for the ninja (specifically nya cuz that man is a simp for his gf) Arin missing him by a second is hilarious to me.

•not sure about how I feel about Lloyd being the linchpin for the entire thing. Part of me thinks that it would have fit the shows themes better if all of them used their elemental powers or something else to power the cores to fix everything. But another part of me understands that Lloyd get main character privileges cuz he’s the son of ninjago god.

•still kinda frustrated that they are changing how elemental powers work. Originally they were from the first spinjitzu master, but the whole source dragon being the source (for lack of a better word) of the elemental powers, it completely retcons and nerfs the first spinjitzu master. It would have made more sense if they still came from the powers of the fsm and were gifted through the source dragons to people.

•the implication of the cursed realm merging with the rest of the realms brings up the question if the departed realm merged to? Does that mean no one can die??? Or is there some sort of force that still keeps the departed realm separated from the rest (like how the people in the land of the forgotten can’t leave) or can some dude just wander in to the departed realm and see like there dead grandma chilling with the fsm having tea or some crap like that.

•Lloyd going I forgot there are two of them now towards Kai and wyldfires antics is peak writing. And all the arson and explosions the two created is just beautiful.

•I think the Kai and wyldfire duo should be called like the arsonist or the kaboom duo

•THE HUGGG!!!! My boi was so happy looking when the tackle hug was done.

•I just cant get my brain to shut up about these two. They give off tired dad who sometimes gives in to his old chaotic ways he’s sworn he’s grown out of and living embodiment of chaos and fun daughter who drags her dad into crazy things.

Tdlr I loved this second half and had a few issues with it but it was still really good.

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jjxkiaraxpopexcleoxjohnbxsarah · 4 months

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A little bit about me- I'm Malika,She/her,I like to write and make gifs. I am just a young OBX girl who loves Teen Wolf among other things. I am always open to have a convo but if ur male then DNI cos online safety ppl, but no seriously just DNI. Here are all my OBX stories, I hope y'all enjoy them If the title has a 💗 next to it then that means it is completed. Home is You: WRITTEN BY ME AND MY BESTIE @lis4ux "We can't leave him alone," Kiara says, clear worry in her voice. "What?" Pope asks, confused at the topic of conversation. "JJ," she clarifies. "He can't be alone." "Why?" Kiara scoffs. "Because he's in total self-destruction mode," she explains, like that wasn't already obvious

Pogues for Life💗:

Because JJ's gonna be okay and that means John B will be fine too.They don't know yet about the new set of obstacles and challenges that await them, the new enemies the new gold.For now, they are just two boys, holding each other, watching a movie, being Pogues for life.

The Lost Tides Of Kitty Hawk:

What if the roles were reversed? What if instead of kidnapping Kiara, JJ was taken away What will the Pogues do and will Kiara do what JJ did for her?

Warmth in every hug💗:

Each time a Pogue hugged JJ and 1 time they gave him a group hug(requested)

I can't lose you💗:

"How'd you like havin' a gun pulled on you?" JJ said, jabbing his finger on John B's chest. "He had it right here on you, bro."John B gently wraps his fingers around JJ's wrist and says, "Relax."And that's the final straw because the next thing he knows,JJ is crumbling into John B, crying his heart out.

Hold me in your arms💗:

"I can’t lose him, Kie” Kiara looks up at John B and gives a small empathetic smile. “You won’t, no, we won’t”

I wasn't hurt that badly💗:

about JJ at the HOSPITAL

We can't leave JB💗:

Basically the scene from s3 e2 when Pope and Kiara argue with JJ about leaving John B but more detailed

Don't Leave, Just Don't leave me💗:

“Don’t you wanna eat Jajge?"Pope starts as he looks at the Maybank boy.JJ looks defeated,like all the fight has left him and the usual energy that comes with him is not in sight."not hungry”

I think… I love you, so don't leave me💗:

“Go to the chateau"Sarah says- it’s only now Pope realises that she’s practically taken the role of leadership in the last 30 minutes."But JJ needs a hospital not a-”Sarah cuts Topper off,“Chateau now”The drive there is silent apart from Kiara’s sobs.

If only you'd know💗:

He could see Pope sitting alone on the rocks near the shore.John B felt a bit guilty, he was Pope's friend too.But Pope had hurt JJ. His JJ.

Lost in My Past💗:

Not real not real not real-JJ gasps for air as he tugs on his hair-His dad's angry shouts merge with the gunshots.

Gone(But Not Forever):

Starts from s1 ep10 my take on things Some chapters involve Panic attacks, mentions of child abuse John b and Sarah are gone Not dead. Gone A big difference Because they can't be dead they just can't

i may have lost my mind without you💗:

basically i loved pioneer7's fic and i wanted to write a chapter about how the others take care of jj whilst kie was also in the hospital

Header made by an ex-mutual of mine as a gift for me when we were friends- Can't tag her cos she blocked me

#obx #jj maybank #outer banks #john b routledge #kiara carrera #obx fanfiction #mine #masterlist #my obx fic masterlist #p4l #a03 #fanfiction #pope heyward #sarah cameron #pogues #cleo

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rabbidrabbitt · 6 months

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Alright new ATSV discussion:

No Expectations

Alright so we all remember the infamous “No Expectations” graffiti done by Miles in the first movie, made to express his feelings about now growing up with everyone having these expectations of him.

That was a main theme of ITSV and continues into ATSV. Miles is expected to keep good grades at this new school, he is expected to be able to do big things, but also once he is bit, he is expecting himself to become a great hero in such little time, and those high expectations he gives himself are crushed by the low expectations of those around him (Gwen, Noir, Penni, etc). It’s not his own drive and expectations of himself, but the expectations of others that bring him down, the idea they had that he was just a kid, that he was not ready, but when it came down to it, he proved them wrong, he saved the day, he sent them all home.

Following this into the second movie. The expectations now of his parents wanting him to be this perfect kid, to do what they think is best for him even if he doesn’t think so. Miguel and the rest of the Spider Society having the expectation of Miles to listen and stand idly by whilst The Spot takes everything he loves. The expectation to be Spiderman, to make those big sacrifices, even as a kid.

But no, as he says, he’s going to do his own thing.

Now back to The Spot. Many people have pointed out that he looks eerily similar to the Graffiti in his final scene.

The crooked stance, the black and white figure with the colours all in the back. Only difference is the colours are darker, more dull, and scribbled over. It gives almost an anti feel to it all. As it’s stated in the art book, Miles and The Spot are characters meant to mirror each other. They are two halves of a whole and compliment one another.

The Spot is the expectations. And not just the expectation of Miles to be Spiderman, to push aside his youth and innocence for the sake of others, but also the expectations of himself to become nothing but a villain.

The Spot was isolated from society the moment he was merged with the dark matter, in his own words, his own family wouldn’t even look at him, he was shunned. It wasn’t his fault and he had no control over what happened. We also know from the art book that he wasn’t really taken seriously by his peers as a human either. He’s spent his whole life chasing approval and wanting to live up to peoples expectations. And now the only expectation he can achieve is his own to become Spider-Man’s nemesis, to finally be taken seriously, to be the only thing society has left him to become.

Miles represents growth and change, that freedom of making your own choice, of being who you want to be

The Spot is conformity, twisting himself into what he was forced to be.

I Hope this made sense, feel free to leave your thoughts!! :DD

#I have no idea if this made any sense #I really love analyzing these films #across the spiderverse #into the spider verse #spiderman #miles morales #the spot spiderverse #the spot #film analysis #discussion #discussion post #film #spiderman into the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse #jonathan ohnn #johnathan ohnn

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littlemisssquiggles · 21 days

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Did you see the RWBY volume 9 epilogue?

I'm happy there was more to it than what we got from last year and that we actually got to see characters like Nora Oscar and Ren featured as important characters

I'm especially Happy Oscar actually got to be in it because to be honest he gets excluded so much I was actually shocked he had a part and we actually got to focus on him for once

This also gives me hope that they'll do something similar like they did with cinder ,with Oscar because I believe it was possibly said in a q&a or in a live stream

that originally they wanted to do cinders backstory and volume 4-5 when we thought she got killed off again but they kept having to push it back along with other things they wanted to do for certain characters

and since many think Oscar is possibly not going to make it through his merge and it will be just ozpin/Oz

when it's done maybe we'll actually get to see his past and maybe because Oscar is merging with Ozpin that means his memories are catching up with Oz's memories and will maybe get to see Oz's past too because that's something we've all wondered about as well

and maybe we'll get a hint at where the final relic is because I don't believe the writers are just going to wait tell the last minute to show us were it is I think they're going to hint at it

I don't Oscar part sense he my favorite along side ozpin

what do you think 🤔

Hiya Autumn o/ Thank you so much for your inbox and pardon the late reply.

To answer your first question, yes, I did see the full V9 Epilogue Animatic. TWICE and I plan on rewatching it many, many times because I haven’t recovered from it yet.

I know I’ve been relatively silent these days especially when it comes to this newly dropped animatic. But that’s mostly because I haven’t fully gathered my thoughts on it yet to form a consisive essay.

My head is still reeling from all that was revealed in that short space of animatic frames, particularly the bits about Oscar and what he’s currently going through. As a Pinehead, you just know that part got to me the most because BOI! WAS IT GOOD! Oscar-worthy, as I might say,

So if I may, and if you don’t mind m’fam, I am going to piggyback off of your inboxed message and use this as opportunity to get some of my main thoughts about Oscar’s side of the Epilogue off of my chest. So here I go.

According to the RWBY V9 full Epilogue Animatic…

Oscar’s story with the Merge with Oz has officially started with him isolating himself from his friends while he goes through it on his own, practically dooming him (and essentially Oz as well) to suffer in silence.

But while that’s how things seem to be starting, if it doesn’t end with a scene where Oscar is going through the Merge but this time he’s surrounded by all of his friends all vowing to stay by side through it all and cherish him for who he is---Oscar---no matter who he becomes after the Merge.

If it doesn’t end with all of Oscar’s friends being there for him during the Merge (ESPECIALLY Ruby) then, like Jon Snow , I don't want it.

I don’t know how Oscar’s story will end.

The way I perceive it, Oscar’s story can end in many possible different ways.

In one way, Oscar’s story could end the way it was originally intended to, according to the natural progression of the narrative.---with Salem being defeated, Ozma finally moving on and Oscar being allowed to live the rest of his days as himself, Merge completely avoided.

Or like a Shamalan movie, it can end with a twist. Maybe Oscar isn’t so lucky and doesn’t avoid the Merge like his predecessors and is changed forever.

Maybe Oscar gets attack by Tyrian and “dies” forcing the Merge to happen as a way to save his life.

Maybe Oscar is taken to the Tree and gets to meet the Blacksmith who decides his final fate in the Merge.

Or who knows? Maybe the CRWBY Writers saw the recent 60th anniversary Doctor Who special and have the brilliance to put a new spin on the whole Ozma cycle where instead of Oscar merging with Oz, the two split apart with either wizards retaining their memories and single identities.

Instead of Oscar of losing himself to the Merge, he is set free leaving Ozma to carry on his mission to the Gods as himself. So no more pairing him up with like-minded souls. Like Oscar, Ozma is now his own person with his own agency. So even if he died again, similar to Salem, Ozma was still immortal only now he would simply come back in his original body as opposed to the former latter of playing hot potato with his soul inhabiting another poor innocent man or young boy’s body. All this with the extra added bonus that now we have two great and powerful wizards for the price of one. Both Oscar and the newly reincarnated Ozma (who gets back his original form---the one that was married to Salem and equally as powerful as her) retained his combat-ready muscle memory and shared ability to use magic. So Ozma, naturally fights with his trademark Long Memory, while Oscar uses magic freehand without the need for the cane.

That last one’s a big stretch but like all of my past Pinehead headcanons that I’ve tossed aimlessly into the ether of the FNDM community, I’m keeping it on the table of possibilities since it’d make a sick Oscar the Sorceror’s Apprentice Pinehead headcanon AU. Definitely adding that one to the list.

---

Anyways, getting back on track. Through everything that Oscar has been put through in the story so far, the most I want from this whole Merge storyline is that he doesn’t have to go through it on his own and I don’t mean, he’s going through it with just Oz as his main company.

What I mean for that is, I don’t think the implications of what the Merge means has truly sunk in for the rest of the hero team. A part of me wishes to assume that part of the reason why the rest of the hero team seems so nonchalant about Oscar’s whole merge with Oz is because Oscar has never truly been honest with them about how he really feels about the merge.

The last time Oscar spoke about the Merge with the team was back in V6 when he basically did it in such a “no biggie; don’t worry about me” sort of way that it came off as if he just said it to sound brave in the moment for the sake of the team and for the sake of keeping his own emotions in check.

I say this because as we’ve seen from the events of V7 through V8, Oscar is very anxious about the Merge. He doesn’t want it to happen which is why he and Oz are now fighting to keep it from happening even though it’s already long begun.

Bottom-line, I don’t think Oscar has been completely honest with anyone else outside of Oz about how he truly feels concerning the Merge. And now that it’s happening, he’s basically resolved himself to go through it alone. I don’t even think anyone else in the current group; not Nora, not Emerald, not even Ren (who literally has the ability to read someone’s thoughts and feelings through their emotions) knows about what he’s going through.

I wonder if Oscar puts on a brave face whenever he’s with the others and anytime he feels another “Merger episode” coming along, he quickly excuses himself (probably claiming that he needs to get back to his research in the Archives of Solitude) so the others don’t have to see him going through it.

Ren, in particular, because I’m sure if Ren saw Oscar’s pain from the Merge, he would blurt it out. Ren has now become the unsung singing canary of the hero team after his whole semblance upgrade.

Just like how he blurted out that Ozpin was back during the tunnel walk back in V8 following the rescue mission and escape from Monstro, Ren would definitely reveal that Oscar is going through the Merge if he knew he was going through it and having a painful grand ole time too.

Ren’s inability to remain discrete when revealing another’s true emotions could probably explain why Oscar has been avoiding alone time with him.

If you look at it, Ren is on his own probably stretching himself between helping everyone. It’s also interesting to me that Oscar hasn’t asked anyone else to help look for stuff in the Shade Archives.

Even if Oscar is technically two people in one, that is still a big ass library of books and archives to sift through for even two people. And yet, as we saw from the epilogue, Oscar is ALONE most of the time and I highly doubt no one else offered to help him in the libraries.

I know the Atlesian refugees are a priority but, when you look closely, everyone else is basically sharing the work; helping each other out with something. Nora is supporting folks like SSSN and CVFY.

Same for Ren. Em as well (even though she’s mostly mentioned in notes in the scene in the animatic).

But when you look to Oscar. He is ALL BY HIMSELF.

Yes, he has Oz with him. But, that doesn’t count. Why hasn’t anyone else volunteered to help Oscar in the archives?

My assumption is because Oscar probably convinced the others to leave the archives to him (and Oz) and prioritize the refugees as a way of ensuring that he’s by himself at all times so no one would have to glimpse his pain from the Merge.

Again, each time a merger episode was highlighted in the epilogue animatic, Oscar was by himself. So my money is that no one knows what Oscar’s really going through.

No one else knows of his mental struggle or pain.

And why I find this interesting is because it kind of parallels Ruby’s whole detachment period from the others in the Ever After before she went to the Tree and what happened at the Mad Tea Party.

Not saying Oscar will share a similar experience as Ruby. I’m just saying, he’s clearly removed himself from the others and acting alone.

As Ren pointed out, he’s not himself. He’s there but…not there at the same time.

This brings me back to my point. Personally, I do want Oscar pulling himself from the team to hide the fact that he’s going through the Merge to be proven canon.

And I want it to be canon so that the first person to pick up that something is clearly off about Oscar’s behaviour to be Ruby.

Maybe Ruby realizes that Oscar is acting weird and when she brings it up, Ren is probably definitely the first person to reveal that he’s been sensing something off for a while but after everything that’s happened, similar to how he’s currently giving Nora space to work things out on her own, Ren has been doing the same with Oscar.

He’s been giving the little prince space when if anyone were to look closely at Ren’s expressions, they could probably see his frustration in being the one to know fully well that his friends aren’t entirely ok and despite wanting to help, he still feels helpless because Ren can’t force his friends to accept his help; no matter how much he offers, y’know what I mean?

I feel like some of RWBYJ’s struggles in the After Ever and how they rose to triumph over them could be mirrored in what NOR is going through now back in Vacuo.

Overall, the point I’m trying to make here is that I just want a moment where Oscar is having another merger episode and he tries to go through it alone, believing that he has to, only to get the reassurance and support he needs from his friends.

I saw someone compare Oscar’s merger episodes to Penny’s battle with Watts’ virus back in V8.

And while I didn’t enjoy the forced heavy focus on Penny during that season, I did sort of like how it culminated in everyone coming together to show their support of Penny and reminding her that she is a part of their team.

That is a type of a moment I want for Oscar. Because unlike Penny, feeling like a part of the team as himself and not just a placeholder for Oz is something Oscar desires.

I want Oscar to push his friends away, believing that he needed to go through this Merge on his own, only to be reminded by his friends in the end that they have his back no matter what.

That he is still a part of their team. That he is still Oscar to them no matter who he becomes in the Merge.

I want a scene where Oscar loses it, possibly even abusing his magic to force walls between himself and his friends only for those said friends to break down those walls and be there for him.

(Maybe even have a moment where Oscar loses control of his magic while trying to fight the Merge and it ends up looking like a moment where everyone thinks it's another Grimm attack when it's actually Oscar whose feelings of the merge have manifested into some kind of monstrous form that Oscar practically cocooned himself inside of).

Y’know that moment in Steven Universe Future where Steven loses control and all of his friends---all the major people he has helped throughout the seasons---come together to help him for once.

I want a moment where the whole team---Ruby, Nora, Ren, Jaune, Blake, Yang, Weiss and Emerald---all of Oscar’s people are there at his side showing him full support as he goes through the Merge; ensuring him that he doesn’t have to be scared of the Merge anymore because no matter who he becomes in the Merge, he will always be Oscar to them.

He’s not Ozpin. He’s not Ozma. He’s sure as hell ain’t Salem’s Ozma. He’s Oscar. Their Oscar

The small, cute farm boy from Mistral who showed up on their doorstep one random night in Mistral and has now cemented himself as one of the most important members of their little team that they will not stand to lose; not even to himself.

I want Oscar to be reminded by his friends that he will be cherished and supported no matter who he becomes in Merge.

Even if Oscar forgot his “old self” due to the Merge, they---his friends, will be there to remind him of who he was because they, as his friends, will never forgot Oscar because to them, he never left.

I just want a moment where everybody group hugs Oscar while he cries about SIX SEASONS worth of repressed tears after all the sh** he's been put through plot-wise. I want it dagnabbit!

Who knows? Maybe Oscar has another painful merger episode and it’s the worse one he’s had since it started and the love and support of his friends surrounding him is what helps to ease him out of it and back to his old farm boy Oscar self.

Just give me one scene like that. That’s all I want.

Don’t know if it will ever come to fruition given the current state of RT and the fate of RWBY as a whole. But hey, still wanted to get that off of my chest.

---

On the subject of the CRWBY Writers possibly showing more of Oscar's past in V10 as he's going through the Merge:

Honestly, at this point, m'fam, it's either now or never.

Now, as in during the events of V10, is the perfect time to give the audience more insight into Oscar's past and who he is. It is practically mandatory at this point that they show it as he is going into a storyline where he's being forced to lose that part of himself. They just have to do it!

Just as how V8 could pretty much be pretty much summed up as another Cinder-centric season similar to V4-V5, V10 could potentially be more Oscar-focused as he's going through the Merge. Like I said, it's the right time for them to do it.

And while I'm unsure of them telling Ozpin's story, maybe that too can be done and do something similar to what they did with Ren and Nora's backstory back in V4.

We got Ren and Nora's whole history in Kunoyuri in an episode that jumped back and forth between the past and the present.

Perhaps Oscar could have a potential episode in V10 where he's having another Merge episode and, as I theorized, he loses control of his magic while a) fighting the Merge again and b) running away/hiding from his friends so that they would've have to see him suffer through it.

So it's an episode that ping pongs between the present day where Oscar's friends are trying to get through to him while he's suffering through yet another painful Merger episode and the past which reveals more of Oscar's backstory leading up to the moment he met Oz and possibly showing other Oscar-centric moments that we, as the audience, never got to see like what happened with Oscar in Argus after his fall out with Jaune (remember we never got to see his side of things and it's something that still bothers me to this day)

Perhaps Ozpin's past is mixed in with it as well as you mentioned and the location of the final relic is actually revealed in Ozpin's memories in a flashback where he entrusted the location to someone. Maybe that person was Summer Rose. Since V9 revealed there is more to Summer Rose's story and that Raven actually knows more about that; perhaps Summer Rose's disappearance is connected to the final Relic or at least the final vault?

I dunno.

Overall, I definitely do like the idea of a potential episode of V10 fully dedicated to sharing bits of both Oscar's past as well as Ozpin's; specifically during his time as headmaster of Beacon when Team STRQ were still students since it could potentially reveal more on where Oz hid the location of the Vault of the Fall Maiden and the Relic of Choice. And if that episode is then followed up by an episode that shows the hero team---all of Oscar's friends actually helping him through an episode of the Merge then even better.

I think that would be pretty amazing. Hope that helps answer your questions m'fam. Let me know.

~ LMS (2024)

#squiggles answers: rwby #oscar pine #rwby volume 9 spoilers #rwby v9 epilogue animatic #ruby rose #lie ren #oscar and ozpin #professor ozpin

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