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yeraskier · 2 years

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There's something almost calming about watching Jaskier when he orgasms. It's always so loud, and intense, and powerful; it leaves no room for anything else.

It's as if his body is absorbing every bit of chaos that surrounds him until he can't take it anymore, and then he simply... releases.

Geralt's had the pleasure of experiencing it many, many times now, and it always has the same impact on him, if not stronger each time. It's addictive, makes him wish that he could spend all of his days, every day, his only purpose in life being to bring Jaskier to orgasm.

And it's possibly making the person in the room next to them homicidal because this would be the seventh time tonight that they’ve banged on the wall, and shouted insults at Geralt and Jaskier for being too loud.

Jaskier’s chuckle turns into a gasp when Geralt slips out of him— the slide slippery, the sound lewd.

Geralt grunts as his body hits the mattress, finding that he's aching in the way he always does after several rounds with the bard. Very few people can tire him out, but it is no surprise that Jaskier manages to be on that short list.

"Outstanding as always, dear witcher."

"Hm."

"And verbal as ever," Jaskier teases as he sits up. "Your ability to be so nonchalant and quiet after sex with me is becoming quite offensive, I must say."

"This is how I normally am."

"You had a lot to say an hour ago when I had my lips wrapped around your cock."

Geralt shrugs, "I was inspired."

Jaskier rolls his eyes, but there’s a playful glint in his eyes as he sits up and begins searching for his pants.

Geralt admires his back (and his backside) as he moves, eyes trailing over the—

Wait…

Wait.

Geralt doesn't panic, okay? Living the life he lives, he doesn't have that privilege, but right now, laying in this bed as he watches Jaskier get ready to leave— fuck, he might be panicking.

Because Jaskier never leaves after sex, not since after the first few times, at least. And yes, he isn't necessarily obligated to stay, but he always does, and so does Geralt, and now he isn't.

Why?

Why is Jaskier not talking him into cuddling right now?

Why is Jaskier not attempting to get him into the now-cold bath in the corner of the room?

Why is Jaskier not going on one of his very detailed post-sex rants that Geralt pretends to despise, even though they both know he gets invested each time?

Why is Jaskier not falling asleep right now? Hogging up all the bed space and stealing the blanket while using Geralt's chest as a pillow?

Geralt remains as still as possible, barely twitching out of place as Jaskier pulls on his doublet. He may not feel normal about this, but he can sure as shit act normal, even if it isn't normal.

"Alright, darling, I'm going to go fetch us some water. Be back before you can miss my presence too much," the bard announces, throwing a wink over his shoulder before practically skipping out the door.

The words settle him, but only for a few moments before he's ready to panic over something completely different because why did he care so much about Jaskier possibly leaving?

Sure, Geralt has become almost as fond of the after-sex things as he is of the sex-sex things, but he doesn't need them. He won't break down into tears without them.

Except...

That's sort of exactly what he was ready to do just now.

Okay, maybe Geralt wouldn’t have cried, but he definitely would’ve bothered… upset, even.

And he knows this because even with the knowledge that Jaskier is coming back, even knowing that Jaskier only left so he could make sure they both stay hydrated, Geralt is, in this very moment, bothered.

Which isn’t good. At all.

Because the last time he got bothered by someone leaving, it was Yennefer. And he was only bothered because.

Well.

But that wouldn’t make sense, would it? Because Jaskier leaves all the time. He leaves Jaskier all the time. They part for months on end, and Geralt lives.

So what if Geralt has begun to notice that it gets a little harder to willingly go every time they part ways?

So what if his mood during the months where Jaskier isn’t around is shittier than usual?

So what if his mood when Jaskier is around is better than usual?

That doesn’t mean anything. Sex puts most men in better moods, that doesn’t mean he’s in love with the bard.

Not that feelings would mean love. Because a little crush doesn’t equate to love.

Not that Geralt has a little crush, or any crush of any sort. Because he doesn’t. Because he can’t.

Because what they have now, friendship and lust and comfort, is the best thing that has happened to him in a while, and he will not ruin that over catching feelings, of all things.

He doesn’t have feelings for Jaskier, so he can’t ruin anything.

“I don’t have feelings for Jaskier,” he says aloud, into the empty room, but the words feel heavy on his tongue.

I can’t have feelings for Jaskier.

“I don’t have feelings for Jaskier,” Geralt says again, but this time, it comes out as a growl.

Please, don’t let me have feelings for Jaskier.

“I do not have feelings for Jask—”

The door opens, and Jaskier walks in with a wide smile, and that spark of electricity that follows the bard wherever he goes bursts in behind him.

Jaskier takes easy steps towards the bed, and it’s like he’s moving in slow motion.

Geralt desperately wants to run. He doesn’t.

He remains still as Jaskier sets down the pitcher of water, and the cup in hand, and fills it up to the brim before turning to Geralt with a disarming gaze.

The rim of the glass in Jaskier’s hand is pressed to Geralt’s lips, and the witcher takes in the sight before him.

Those wide blue eyes, and that disheveled hair, and those pouty lips— he realizes that he could probably draw every single feature of this man’s face perfectly without even looking, and he’s never drawn a day in his life.

I can’t.

“Well?” Jaskier says, “drink up.”

Geralt parts his lips, and Jaskier’s eyes drop, and Geralt’s heart thuds so loud, it seems to echo throughout his entire body, and Jaskier smiles wide, as if he heard it.

I do.

Fuck.

#i hate this so fucking much #like the idea was there and thats the only reason its being posted but the execution is making me gag #writing really is like a muscle or whatever the saying is #clearly ive lost some of my pizazz but i will work to get it back #sorry :(#but i might make a part 2 #idk like i already had more planned out but it got too long and this was supposed to be a ficlet soooooooo haha.... haha #i just ended it right there with geralt realizing bc i love to torture you guys clearly ....#jk the part 2 really will come this time since i already know what i wanted to do (if you guys want it)#this was mostly to just write something just to Write because ive missed writing sm #the witcher #jaskier #geralt of rivia #my writing #geraskier

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going-to-ikea-for-the-fries · 11 days

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Into Your Arms. - Price x OC

|| [<- Part One] ||

pairing: F!OC: Kathleen "Brass" Moore x John Price words: 4.3K~ cw: smut, piv sex (unprotected), car sex, unsafe sexual practices, pussy slapping, flirting, insults, banter, sexual innuendos/intentions, love confessions.

a/n: yes this is a musical fic/chapter thing and it's inspired by Into Your Arms by Ava Max and Witt Lowry.

Yeah, I don't mean to make you wait, just the pressure's been gettin' heavy

I know if I fuck us up, we'll be over, done, you'll forget me

They dated for a solid 4 months. 4 months straight of him driving over to see her both at work and out of it. With some small missions in between, but constant time together nonetheless.

Showing up at the military hospital with coffee, or a pastry, or a meal to-go, kissing her on the lips, strong hands gripping at the extra fat on her thighs or her ass or her tummy.

Taking her on fancier dates, dinners, films, tea and sweets, little gifts here in there, letting her drag him around the shopping centre, and swipe his card on the machine before she could.

Ending up in her bed more often than not, sneaking out the next morning, meeting her roommate, Molly Cole, on many of those mornings, only to have a message in his phone by noon complaining about how Molly goaded her over him having spent the night over again.

Meeting her friends, her meeting his. Going out together for drinks at the pub, and clubbing, watching her dance and drink, feeling her body against his, seeing her curves in those dresses, watching how she came close to his height in those tall heels of hers...

Only to have to leave, sent on a mission. Many months long... Uncertain of how long just a "Until it's done" promise.

Their relationship was too carefree for a label or title... and too fresh for a 'I'll wait for you'.

It caused a difficult conversation.

One he hadn't expected to go the way it did.

I'm feelin' bad that I act this way, 'cause you let me

They call me king, but I know my queen will be there to check me

A breeching of feelings that they never had to before.

Standing in her bedroom, she was getting dressed, while he stood in the ensuite bathroom, looking in the mirror.

"I don't know when I'll be back." He announced from over his shoulder.

"That's fine." She replied as she fastened her bra.

"No, you don't understand." He grunted as he turned to look at her.

He watched her reach over to grab a black camisole from the hanger.

"What don't I understand?" She asked as she glanced at him before throwing the camisole over her body.

"That I don't know if and when I'll be back... and I don't want you to wait." He leaned against the doorway, looking at her.

"You severely overestimate how invested I am in this, John." Kathleen said as she pulled her brown hair off from the accidental tuck inside her camisole.

"So you won't care that I go?" John asked her as he crossed his arms.

"Were you expecting me to?" She chuckled as she crossed her own arms, mirroring him.

"And you won't miss me, huh?" He teased.

"Nope." She replied nonchalantly.

"Won't even worry that I might die out there?"

"I hope you do, actually."

John rolled his eyes and scoffed. "You're a horrible woman."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, war criminal-" She rolled her eyes. "I'm just saying, don't expect me to be waiting for you with open arms."

I'm out of my head, out of my mind

If you let me, I'll be out of my dress and into your arms tonight

Feels like I'm always waitin'

Kathleen is good at lying. Normally.

When John told her he had to go, and for the next three weeks, she acted as if she didn't care, as if she wouldn't and didn't miss him at all.

But it was slowly tearing her up from the inside out.

Whenever an SAS team was sent back and came into Tidworth for treatment, she'd stiffen up.

She'd run out to the helipad, rushing for the chopper and directing the other nurses and doctors and triage, and then she'd look around, amidst the chaos, wide-eyed and feral, as if expecting to find her boyfriend on a stretcher...

Was he even her boyfriend?

Had he ever been?

Two months came and went and it settled however. She started seeing other people, one-night stands (shameless ones), a couple of dates with blokes she found a bit too nice (boring)...

It was an earnest attempt at moving on.

Then he came back. She heard of it from others...

He didn't contact her for the first two weeks.

Acting like he was single, like he had been single this whole time.

Like she had been too, she guessed.

Yeah, I don't mean to make you wait or to contemplate about us

My ex, she loved to lie, guess that's why it's harder to trust

I been searchin' to find myself and not get too lost into lust

But she couldn't help but wonder if when he said 'don't wait for me', he really was just looking for an excuse not to continue dating her when he came back.

Then on the Saturday of week three, at 11 P.M., she received a text from him.

Big Bastard 🙄: "Can I come see you?"

And she let him.

She opened the door for him and he pushed his way inside, arms wrapped tight around her waist, a hand digging into her scalp, pressing her into the wall and claiming her mouth with a greedy kiss.

His tongue dug into her mouth like he was trying to stake claim on her from the inside out, pressing her body to his, her heavy breasts pushed tight against his muscular, nearly spilling out of her cami top as he groaned into her mouth.

They ended up tangled in each other's web again for two more months, having picked up right where they left off.

Going on dates again. Beach days, pool days, picnics, hikes, long drives, concerts and films.

Being all over each other, in each other's beds. In each other's arms.

Then he got another mission. Another 'don't know when I'll be back'.

Another 'I won't wait for you'.

But this time, when she said it, he saw through it.

He saw the look in her eyes. The exact opposite of the look of relief she had shown the day he came back into her life.

And he promised himself that when he did come back, he wouldn't reach out. That he wouldn't crawl his way back into her bed, her arms, her life.

If it was up to you now, you would be mine

I'm on the road more than I'm home, and still I find it's only you on my mind

He came back four months later. Early february.

And as he touched down and the helo lowered the back hatch, he stood there, with his arms crossed behind his back...

And he sought her out. As if expecting her to have somehow heard of him coming back, and would be there waiting.

When he left the base to hit up Hereford for a drink with his team, or his mates, he found himself missing the turn because the muscle memory to speed off to Tidworth was too much.

He'd be at the pub with his mates and look around, scanning the crowds of women with fake tans and skimpy dresses, as if look for those legs, that tummy, that set of tits.

You can't buy time with your money

And you love goin' to the beach whether it's cloudy or sunny

He'd go down to the shopping centre to get a new shirt or pants or shoes, and he'd pass by a window and take note of what in there he could buy to surprise her with.

He'd find a new restaurant she'd have wanted to try, a local shelter advertising a cat for adoption, her friends posting pictures with her on social media...

And he'd open her contact on his phone and his fingers would type a message...

Kat 😾 John: been thinking about you x

He couldn't reach out to her though, he couldn't. Not when she's that attached to him. Not when she needs him to stay, to be hers, to make promises and uphold them.

And you love drinkin' all your wine until it hurts in your tummy

You call me, "Honey, I'm tipsy and really all I want is for you to love me"

And then at 0200 hours, in one of the nights where he was out for a drink, his phone rang. He nearly jumped out of his seat when he saw her name on the screen.

"Yeah?" He greeted once he picked up, after having stepped out of the pub and standing in the dark and cold street under the pub awning.

"John..." She murmured, sounding whiny on the other side of the line.

"Kat..." He returned the greeting. "What's wrong?"

"I miss you." She whimpered into the line with a huff.

He knew that tone. It was the tone she always had when they'd go out together and she'd get pissed.

"We can't do this, Kat."

"John..." She whined.

Needy, soft, desperate to be held, to be kissed, to be fucked.

Fuck, how he missed her.

"Where are you?" He ended up asking her.

That's all it took. A drunk call, a messy drunk kiss as he helped her into bed, cuddling all night.

That's all it fucking took.

And then they ended up tangled in each other's web, once again.

Five months.

Dates, birthdays, a vacation overseas to Portugal, and sort of, but not really, pondering about moving in together.

And then he got called for another mission.

And as he sat her down again, this time, they breached it much differently than the other times.

Because this time, he had a timeline. Somewhere between six months and a year and a half.

"I'm not waiting for you." She told him directly, before he even had time to say anything.

He swore the ring box in his pocket was burning a hole through the fabric and onto his skin.

He just clenched his jaw and nodded. "That's your choice, then."

"It is." She replied. "Easier for the both of us."

"Right."

And so he went and, as assumed, he came back nine months later.

And he tried. He tried. He tried to fucking stay away. He really did...

For two fucking days after touching down.

But his hands itched to touch her, his arms longed to wrap around her, his body felt colt and alone in his twin bed in the barracks;

His ears itched to hear her mewl and croon as he worked her sensitive bundle of nerves between his lips;

His soul itched to argue with her, to watch and hear her fight him, to witness her preen when she delivered a devastating insult, only to be hit with one back, to watch the smirk on her lips and the shine in her eyes as they challenged each other;

He missed her sitting pretty in his passenger seat, he missed her pulling him by the arm in public like a dog on a lead, he missed her being vocal when someone pissed her off, he missed surprising her at work with food and drink, he missed being sent out at night because she ran out of fags, he missed keeping a change of clothes in her closet, and a spare key in his pocket, he missed the looks men would give him when he walked around with a beautiful woman like her hanging off his arm...

He missed the dulcets of her voice even when she raised it.

He missed the scent of her shampoo, and her perfume, and her lotion.

He missed the red lipstick stains she'd leave all over his face.

He missed her.

I know I need to tell you, I care before it's too late

Before someone steps to the plate

Before you decide not to wait

Before you decide not to chase

So, like a bloody coward, he showed up at her flat door at 2000 on a Saturday, finding Kathleen's roommate, Molly Cole.

"She's not home, John."

"Is she having a shift at the hospital? That's fine, I don't mind waiting all night if I have to."

"No, she's on a date."

He felt his blood run cold.

No way in fucking hell was he letting another man have Kathleen.

He didn't care how pathetic it made him look.

So, after getting the information of where she was and with whom, John took off after her.

The text pinged Kathleen's phone while she was halfway through talking to her date.

A nice bloke named Edward, with whom she'd been on dates a couple of times by now. He wasn't completely boring though she had yet to feel the spark.

Probably because every bloke she'd go on dates with between John leaving for deployment and coming back would always get compared to John.

Big Bastard 🙄: I'm outside. Leave him and let me take you home.

She glanced at it and only answered after asking for a moment from Edward, claiming it to be her roommate.

Kat 😾: I'm not leaving.

Big Bastard 🙄: Either you leave or I'll go in there and take you back myself.

Kat 😾: I'd love to see you try.

She didn't know what she was saying. Not really. She always loved to play games with John in the past, to taunt him and goad him and tease him until his buttons were pushed too far and he acted.

But they had never had a moment like this.

One where the door of the restaurant was pulled open by John, and he marched inside, still in uniform, right up to her table, eyes locked on her, like a predator zeroed in on its prey.

And she had no intentions of running away.

He came up to her and grabbed her by the forearm, yanking her up and out of her seat, causing the cutlery to rattle against the plate.

"What is this? What do you think you're doing?" Edward spoke up as he got up as well, as if he could somehow stop this from happening.

John shot a look at Edward, a glare that could make most men freeze in the spot, as he grabbed her coat and draped it over his free arm, same with her purse.

"Your date is over." John said bluntly as he stared at Edward. "She won't be calling you again."

Then he walked off, pushing Kathleen along toward the door, carrying her things for her, as he dragged her toward the car.

Kathleen was almost ashamed to admit how much she had enjoyed that display of caveman-like possession on his part.

Hell, it turned her on.

But that didn't mean that she would just lay down and take it.

No, John, despite everything, had no right to do this. To come waltzing back into her life as he so pleased, acting as if he had a claim to her.

And she was going to make sure he knew it.

As John got into the driver's seat after having helped her into the passenger's, and began driving off, she threw a hand at him and started hitting him in the arm.

"How bloody dare you?!" Kathleen raised her voice as she hit him repeatedly, fists slamming into his arm and shoulder in such a way that he knew in the morning he'd have bruises.

Heavy handed she always was. Just like him. She'd leave him bruises and bleeding, he'd leave her bruises and crying. After sex, that is.

"Stop that, Kat, I swear to God." John grunted as he moved his arm a bit to try and catch her hands and stop her from hitting him.

"What do you think you're doing, ruining my date like that and... kidnapping me like a... Neanderthal?" She continued scolding him and hitting him, dodging his attempts at grabbing her.

"I didn't kidnap you, shut your fucking gob for once, you cunt." He told her. "You're acting as if I threw you over my shoulder while you were kicking and screaming. I just walked ya out!"

"It doesn't matter! You have no fucking right to do that, I was enjoying myself!"

"Like hell you were!" John shouted as he suddenly hit the brakes, pulling the car over to the side of the secluded road they were on, and turning swiftly to face her. "Say that again."

Kathleen went quiet as she glared at him and him and her, chests rising and falling, breaths erratic.

"Go on. Say it again. Say you were enjoying yourself." He goaded her. "Say you were truly and whole-heartedly enjoying yourself. Say it and I'll take you back there."

She continued staring at him. She was normally a great liar, an excellent one, a great poker face, quick at coming up excuses...

And sure she had been enjoying herself... just fine during that date. Maybe... maybe not as much as she would with John. But better than the others.

But she knew she couldn't lie about it this time. So she just huffed and muttered a 'Fuck you, John'. Her brown eyes jumpy and erratic, flicking between his blue ones.

"Oh, is that how it is?" He asked her with a cocked brow as he pulled the break on the car and then leaned over the centre console toward her. "A 'fuck you' is what I get?"

"Yeah, it's what you get." She replied with a sharp nod, her brows furrowing in anger and frustration.

"Well, then, fuck you too, sweet'art." He replied as got right in her face, both of them staring deep into the other's eyes like they were seconds away from throwing fists.

"Oh, I already know everything about how you want me to go fuck myself, Jonathan." The brunette told him and, for once, her voice quivered for a moment.

Vulnerability. He never thought he'd see the day.

"I've never wanted that." John said while shaking his head. "You're the one that always says you're not going to wait for me and you don't care about me going on deployment, Kat. So who's really making who go fuck themselves?"

"I do that for you, you bloody fucking idiot." Kathleen spat in a vitriol tone as she glared at him. Then, she turned her face and looked away, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Oh what? Do you? And how's that?" John confronted her as he leaned his head over so he could get back in her line of sight. "By acting like you don't care about me? About us?"

Kathleen's head snapped toward him again, eyes widened. "Oh, so there's an 'us' now, is there?" She asked with nothing if not disbelief in her voice.

"There always was an us." John replied as he glared at her. "Never fucking wanted anyone else. And you can't tell me you've wanted anyone else either."

"Oh piss off. You think I don't know what you soldiers do when you're overseas?" She goaded and nodded upward in an act of challenge. "I'm an Army nurse, John, not a civvy."

"I won't lie and say I didn't get involved with other women overseas." John told her point blank. "Just like you can't day you didn't get involved with other men either." He raised his brows, which caused her her grimace and nod.

"But we both know what the fuck that was. And what it meant. And where it stands compared to us."

"Oh don't give me that bloody 'us' bullshit." She grumbled and rolled her eyes. "You don't like me all that much, and I don't like you all that much."

John reached forward and gripped her around the jaw, tugging her face toward him, before looking right into her eyes.

"I might not. And you might not." He nodded as he stared into her eyes. "But it drives me fucking mental to not have you with me. I think about you every fucking day."

Her lips parted for a moment as he continued. "I want you by my side and not some other wanker that you know doesn't do it for you the way I do." He warned her, his eyebrows setting low over his blue eyes, causing them to darken.

"You're such a bastard, you know that?" Kathleen told him, eyes widened and pupils blown as she glared into his eyes too.

"I know. And you're such a cunt." John grunted in reply.

They stared at each other silently for another moment before they both lunged forward and kissed, their hands finding their way amidst each other's hairs.

John slid his seat back as far as it could go and then lowered the backrest all the way until the headrest was flush against the backseat.

He flipped him and Kathleen over, breaking the kiss for just a moment in order to slot her beneath him on the driver's seat.

He parted her legs and rolled up the hem of her little black dress, exposing her backside and cunt to him again.

"Fucking slag, not even wearing underwear..." He grunted at the sight of her cunt, deliciously wet and glistening in the orange light provided by the street lamps above.

"Fuck you, John. I had a date." She complained.

"Of course, how could I forget... You never wear knickers for those, do ya? Never did with me." He goaded.

Slipping off her high heels, he tossed them haphazardly onto the backseat as he slotted one of her feet on the ledge of the driver's side window, the other over his shoulder.

"You're still in bloody uniform, you want to talk?" She pointed out, which earned her glistening cunt a smack from his calloused fingers. "Shut your gob."

Hissing, she rolled her eyes and lifted a hand at him, flipping him off, which caused him to growl under his breath and slap her pussy again, making her squirm beneath him.

"Bloody hell... I missed that cunt of yours..." He grunted as he ran his fingers over her folds affectionately, collecting some of the wetness before he slipped them into his mouth, for a taste of her, due to lack of a better position for it.

The groan that came from him after tasting her again was obscene. "How'd I go almost a whole year without tasting you?" He complained.

Kathleen bit her lip to hide that smirk that wanted to take over her lips, trying to act like she was still unbothered by it. By him.

"D'she miss me too, da'lin'?" John asked her with a cocked brow as he got busy undoing his belt and unbuttoning his pants.

"No." Kathleen lied with a shrug. "Been keeping her awfully busy." She remarked nonchalantly.

"Right..." John said as he pulled down his boxer briefs, allowing for his hardened cock to spill out, too heavy to bounce back against his stomach, and instead hanging low, the head already brushing against her glistening cunt.

"But none of those knobheads you've been getting busy with are me, now, are they?" He teased.

And, before she could come up with a scathing, hurtful comment about how the others were better, which John could anticipate her doing, he plunged his cock balls deep into her in one swift motion, causing her to let out a startled, choked sound.

As he bottomed out inside her, feeling like he was home again, he leaned over her, pressing his weight forward on her leg and folding her over herself.

"That's it..." He grunted, pulling his hips back barely an inch before thrusting them forward again, causing a squeak to escape his woman's plump lips as his cock stretched her full.

"John..." She whined, one hand leaving a handprint on the glass window beside her, the other with the arm wrapped over the centre console of the car for support.

"Yeah, call my name." He demanded and hissed through his teeth before he pulled a few more inches back and then thrusted back in, his cock stretching her sinfully and his cock head pounding into her cervix.

Kathleen squirmed and gasped, feeling every inch of his thick cock push and pull across her gummy walls, his heavy balls beginning to steadily slap against her ass as he pounded into her.

One of his hands found its way around her neck, squeezing the sides as the other gripped the top of the driver's seat for support, allowing him to continue in his filthy avenue: taking her for all she's worth.

"Fuckin' ell, Katy..." He grunted as he looked down at her, the way her mouth hung open with desperate gasps and little whines escaping her.

Digging her nails into the leather cover of the console next to her, she whined in delight, already breathing heavy even if he wasn't actually squeezing her throat.

"I can never have enough of you." John grunted, his head rubbing against the plush interior ceiling of his car with each thrust of his.

"Look at me." He demanded, her brown eyes flittering to find his blue ones, the pupils wide and dark. "Keep your eyes on me..." He huffed.

Nodding, Kathleen continued making eye contact with John, though she was so overwhelmed by pleasure that she couldn't necessarily focus.

"Fuck... I swear... It's like you love when I call you a cunt... when we argue... You always get so fucking wet..." John grunted through clenched teeth and ragged breaths, his ears honing in on the filthy sound of his cock plunging into her dripping cunt.

"You'll be the bloody death of me, Kathleen..." He grunted as he leaned forward and caught her mouth with his, sucking her lips greedily.

Their tongues slipped out of their mouths and met in the middle, the both of them nearly drooling from the intense pleasure, eyes falling closed as they panted and moaned, muffling each other and trading saliva.

"I love you..." Kathleen moaned as she looked up into his eyes, which caused John to groan, eyes rolling back, before letting his head fall forward to hide his face in her neck.

"Fuck..." John moaned in her ear. "Tell me again... tell me you love me."

"I love you, John..." Kathleen whined, causing him to hiss again.

"Again."

"I love you..."

"Oh, fuck... I love you too..."

#ikea writes 💚#cod oc #oc: kathleen “brass” price #price x kathleen #john price x oc #cod fanfic #cod fandom #cod smut #john price smut

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tobiasdrake · 2 months

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Okay, here we go. It's time to give a new game a go. I've had a lot of people pushing for this one so I'm excited.

I realize those are supposed to be rays of light shining off of whatever the thing is - a star, presumably - but it honestly looks like it's shooting at me. Should I be concerned?

I bet it tastes like lemon. It looks lemon-flavored to me. Though that might just be the black-and-white color scheme.

Hey. Uh. Pro tip, don't stand directly over someone's face when you're wearing a dress. There are better angles you can approach from.

Fortunately for you, I am a, uh... I am a....

...

You know what, I just woke up and I do not have sufficient information at this time to describe myself as "gentleman", "lady", or "person of esteemed character". I will get back to you when I have gathered more information as to my personal gender situation.

Yeah, sorry, I'm coming down from a wild trip. The kind where you can't be 100% sure if the things you just did caused the hallucinations or were part of the hallucinations. I think I actually saw the curvature of time.

It's a serrated crescent. I don't know what to do with that information. But I have it now.

Thank you, I feel like I will be able to hold more coherent conversations when I am more fully awake. And possibly caffeinated. If that is a thing we have.

FUCKING OW

I'M AWAKE

Ugh, that's like rolling over in just the wrong way so that your whole leg cramps up and then you have to throw yourself out of bed and walk on it to make the unbelievably agonizing pain go away. I GUESS I'M DONE BEING ASLEEP NOW.

There we go, information gathered. I have consulted the pocket notes I wrote to explain my gender to me and arrived at a conclusive answer: Masc-leaning non-binary.

Now that this mystery has been settled, I'm ready to face the day.

Well, the maybe/maybe-not hallucinations were fantastic but then it ended in violent agony so I'm gonna say that balances out to a 5.

You are alarmingly invested in my naptime quality. Are you trying to hint that you want me to go away for a couple more hours?

I dunno; I kinda just ruined my appetite for bedtime and I don't want to be that one person in the group who keeps trying to talk for hours and keeps everyone else awake.

Plus we're supposed to go fight the big bad evil guy in the morning and that might not be an appointment that we can show up to sleep-deprived. He might take offense.

Then again, we might be able to intimidate him with our cavalier attitudes and complete lack of regard for the severity of this situation.

OH NO

I didn't mean no! I just meant... we should really consider all the factors first!

...

I might be history's greatest monster.

...ugggggggh how did this become my problem.

Why does Odile get to be a Madame? I want to be a Madame. Super unfair that she gets the cool title and I'm just... uh....

SIFFRIN. I'm just Siffrin. Unfair.

If we're all staying in the same place then what's even the point of calling it a sleepo-- I MEAN I AM DOWN AND VERY ENTHUSIASTIC ABOUT YOUR SLEEPOVER IDEA YES THIS IS A WONDERFUL PLAN.

...

*quietly shuffles pocket notes back into pocket*

My memory is fine. Perfectly adequate.

OH THANK YOU I wanted one but I was too machismo to ask. You're always looking out for me, Mar... Merma....

Mirabelle! You're always looking out for me, Mirabelle. I appreciate it. ^_^

Now then. We have a fulfilling day ahead of us! Time to carry out the task I was assigned wander aimlessly around the village pokin' stuff.

#in stars and time #drake plays in stars and time

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undreaming-fanfiction · 1 year

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Banished (2)

You asked, I delivered. Ish. There will be three parts to this, but I wanted to split them because I have an attention span of a goldfish. The previous part can be found HERE.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

Eddie Munson's mind is racing. That isn't unusual for him, his brain is basically a race track, but instead of overflowing with ideas for campaigns or songs, he's basically having a breakdown if he ever had one. What a joke, he thinks to himself, you get accused of several murders, get torn to shreds by bats from another dimension, die and come back, but that's just okay while a dinner with Karen Wheeler sends you spiraling? You moron.

The dinner is only tomorrow, he still has plenty of time, but he can't sleep, can't rest, can't do anything and before he knows it, he's knocking on Steve's door. He curses himself for not checking the time when an obviously sleepy (and shirtless. Why is he always shirtless?!) Steve opens the door, only an inch, and peers outside. "Eddie? What's wrong?" He swings the door fully open and Eddie can hear the clang of his signature spiked bat as Steve lets it fall on the ground. That's going to damage the floor, Eddie thinks. And then he remembers that the Harringtons haven't even checked if their son is alive after the earthquake and his mind adds, good. Maybe I should drop it again. From the staircase. Twice.

Eddie's eyes dart to the side, anywhere but Steve's bare chest. One crisis at a time, thank you. "Harrington. I mean...shit. Hi Steve. Can I...can I come in?" Noticing Steve's stunned silence, he quickly adds: "I swear this isn't one of the world ending things. It's mundane, really. But I didn't know where else to go, so..." he points vaguely at himself, "here I am, I guess. I'm also sorry for waking you up, shit, should have said that first. Really sorry."

Steve gives a humorless laugh and steps to the side, letting Eddie in. "Yeah, nothing to be sorry for. Being tired and actually sleeping seem to be two completely different things." Eddie kicks off his shoes and Steve points him to the kitchen. "You want something to drink?"

Eddie wonders if maybe a shot, two or half a bottle of vodka would do the trick. If it would get him to calm down. Probably not. "Um..." he croaks out, "no. No thanks, I...drank. Before I came here. Like, not alcohol. Coke. Not...that kind of coke. Jesus H Christ," he rubs his forehead and closes his eyes. It's becoming more and more obvious that tomorrow is going to be a disaster.

Steve just leans against the kitchen door frame and blinks, confused. "...you okay Eddie?"

"Yes. Possibly. Depends." He takes a deep breath and finally looks at Steve properly. The chest hair isn't helping his mental stability and this time, he doesn't have a good excuse to throw any clothing at him. "I...look. The whole banished thing is getting kind of old and it seems Wheeler's mom seems to agree and...she invited me over, which I know you know, I don't know why I'm telling you since you were the one who made that miracle happen, but I...I have a slight problem."

The pretty face in front of him scrunched into a confused frown. "Don't you...want to go?"

Eddie throws up his hands and it takes him some serious self-discipline not to rub his fingers between Steve's eyebrows to make that frown disappear. "Oh no, nonono. I mean yes. I want to go. So much. But um...I...shit, this is going to sound absolutely ridiculous and I can't believe I'm saying this, but I don't want to fuck this up, okay? I can't afford to fuck this up." There, he said it. Eddie never wanted to be emotionally invested in anything or anyone that could hurt him, always placing his personal integrity - hobbies, aesthetics, beliefs - over impressing other people, but here he is, admitting to Steve Harrington of all people that he found something worth changing his approach. "So for the first time in my life, I want to...make a good impression. But," he sighs, tugs a strand of his hair in front of his mouth, "with the whole end of the world thing, all of my clothes are gone. Like, melted. Burned. I didn't have much of a presentable wardrobe even before, but now..."

Steve sucks in a breath. "Oh."

Eddie nods and drops his eyes to the floor again. This is starting to feel like a really bad idea. "Yeah, so I know this is weird as hell and you're well within your rights to tell me to fuck off, but-"

But then Steve is grabbing his wrist, pulling him upstairs. "Come on," he interrupts his rambling and Eddie's chest squeezes impossibly tight around his self-proclaimed cynical heart at the kindness in his voice, "let's see if I can find something that fits you."

...

Eddie ends up spending the night. Not in the way he would have liked, but Steve is off work the next day and he insists on perfecting everything - "it's absolutely not that I'm not into your look, I mean...you know what I mean, but I want you to feel calm, man. Parents can be terrifying, but Karen - Mrs. Wheeler - is a good person. And you need to sleep to entertain those little shits the way they expect, otherwise they'll eat both of us alive." So they go through Steve's wardrobe, find some older pieces (still better than anything Eddie's ever owned) that he used to wear before his shoulders and thighs decided to do the thing that has Eddie secretly salivating.

Steve also brings in his hair salon supplies, as Eddie jokingly calls them, and helps brush Eddie's unruly locks into a simple low ponytail. Eddie doesn't let anyone touch his hair, the gesture is too intimate, but he can't find a good excuse to say no and the experience ends up being...pleasant. And he isn't going to follow that thought because it leads to hell. Not the religious one, fuck that, but hell of unrequited feelings, awkwardness and pity.

The end result has Eddie feeling...mixed. He looks at himself in the mirror, a simple dark polo, still slightly larger, but it might be seen as an intent, tucked into non-torn jeans. His hair is still fluffy, but looks more put together. He looks put together. He stares at his reflection and thinks is this what I would have looked like if I was normal? Would I have a normal job, a diploma, all that shit? His eyes slightly shift to Steve's reflection, looking at him tired but proud, and his brain unhelpfully adds: Would I be Steve's type then? Stupid.

He turns to Steve and gestures at the polo. "Not bad, huh? Who knew I could pull off the King Steve look?"

Steve laughs out loud, throws his head back. "Give yourself more credit, man, you don't look like that much of a douchebag. Suits you, though. If you ever feel like going for something more daring."

"Daring," Eddie rolls that word on his tongue, trying to sound offended but failing. "Daring my ass, Harrington! Don't think for a moment your polos trump the whole my-daughter-or-son-can-never-bring-this-guy-home look."

Steve produces an undignified snort, but holds Eddie's eyes. "Well, maybe you just need to date someone whose parents are never home," the asshole shrugs as Eddie nearly self-combusts.

"Oh." Quickly, say something not creepy. "Good thing I know someone like that then." Fuck.

They stare at each other for long seconds and Eddie notices Steve is actually blushing, the master of flirting suddenly has the most beautiful pink hue spreading from his face to his - still bare, goddammit Harrington! - chest, but he doesn't look uncomfortable. Eddie wants to pour a gallon of water on the tiny flame of hope that sparked in his chest, but apparently stupid is his new way of life.

And Steve isn't fucking helping. He runs fingers through his hair again, not distracting at all, and smiles sheepishly at Eddie. "Well, you should go for them." Them, not her. Oh.

Eddie, feeling brave and still very, very stupid, smiles and attempts to tug another strand of hair in front of his face, but the ponytails there and he feels incredibly exposed. "I think I will," he tells Steve, tucking his hands into the back pockets of his - Steve's - jeans. "I just need to deal with this whole banished thing and if it goes well, I'll ask them out. Maybe for coffee. Coffee is a good first date idea, no?"

Steve nods. "Yeah. I can't imagine them not liking coffee."

"Good."

There is a comfortable silence between them now. Eddie wonders if he's dreaming, if his brain made up this whole conversation, but he can't imagine a single dream of his where he'd end up wearing Steve's polo shirts. Or maybe...nope, still not going there.

He yawns and waves his hand in front of his mouth. "Sorry," he says and then bursts out laughing when Steve yawns too. "Contagious, isn't it?"

"Yep." Steve looks at his bed, the only clean island in the sea of piles of clothes. "Do you snore, Munson?"

Eddie snorts and wiggles a finger at Steve. "That's for me to know and for you to find out."

Part 3 will be up eventually, I already have it sort of planned. Tagging the folks who mentioned they'd like a continuation, sorry if that's *clears throat for the best Max impression* presumptuous of me.

@subparwritersuperbreblogger, @gay-stranger-things and two others who I can't tag for the life of me, I'll just respond to your comments!

#steddie #steddie ficlet #steddie drabble #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #strangerthings #stranger things ficlet #strangerthingsfanfiction

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jae-bummer · 9 months

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My Idol 3: Part Nine

My Idol From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

My Idol is a South Korean competitive reality dating game show. It currently airs on Saturday nights on Jae-bummer’s blog. First broadcast in 2016, the show offers the opportunity for a lucky fan to go on seven blind dates with seven idols. The idol plans the date with the show throwing in a specific mission to complete during the day. At the end of the initial dates, the show opens up an audience vote to decide what four idols will move on to the second date.

My Idol 3: The Series

"Don't look at me like that," you muttered, looking up at Insu moodily.

"It looked like he was trying to inhale your face," your bodyguard muttered, eyes wide. "That must have been terrifying."

"I can't tell if you're trying to be an asshole or not," you sighed. Shoulders dropping, you leaned against the wall that Jackson had you pushed up against. "Had it ever occurred to you that I was enjoying it?"

"Not really," he chuckled, leaning against the wall beside you and crossing his arms. "Did you?"

"I thought so," you nodded. "He's very handsome. And very sweet."

"I wasn't asking why," Insu scoffed.

"I didn't say you were," you said, narrowing your eyes at him. "Why are we even talking right now? I'm still irritated with you."

"Oh right," he grinned. "Because I was the one to tell a complete stranger that you had severe hemorrhoids."

"He wasn't your date," you shrugged.

"Is now a bad time to talk?" he asked, suddenly turning serious. You remained silent, the question hanging in the air.

You knew he wasn't referring to your recent statement, but "talking" as a whole to fix whatever had broken between the two of you yesterday.

"Insu," you started slowly, trying to get your thoughts together. "You don't know me."

"I have never claimed to," he sighed. Adjusting his stance against the wall, he moved to face you. "But I know enough about what type of men you're dealing with to give some sort of warning."

"You don't know them either," you said quietly. "I understand that you're inherently protective, but protecting my heart is not part of your job."

Turning to lean his back against the wall again, Insu looked up to the ceiling, silent.

"I admit," you continued, not at all wanting to admit anything. "That there is...a level of comfortability between us."

"How sweet," he muttered.

"But that's not something I can afford to explore at the present time," you breathed. "As there are seven other men who are currently vying for my affections."

"Only seven?" he hummed. "What's another one thrown in there?"

"This isn't a joke," you groaned. "We need to be more professional."

"We?" he asked, lifting his brows. "I've never once, in the entire time of being contracted with My Idol, neglected your safety based off of my feelings. I am always alert and aware of any threats, including, but not limited to those men "vying for your affections.""

"You're getting more invested than you should," you said wearily, feeling suspiciously close to tearing up. "My life is beyond complicated."

"As you've mentioned."

"Disregarding the whole dating thing," you sighed. "I'm homeless right now."

"I don't think you realize..." he began. "That I am working for a production that you are also technically working for, making us coworkers. Are coworkers not allowed to have friendly relationships?"

"We are," you nodded. "But tell me you weren't jealous of me and Jackson's interactions."

"I was not jealous," he said simply.

Crossing your arms, you turned slightly away from him. He had to know that was bullshit.

"I was selfish."

You could only turn and blink up at him. "What?"

"I want to get to know you," he continued quietly, avoiding eye contact. "So badly. When I took on My Idol, this was just another job. Then I met you at a time when you were so broken. I wanted to protect you and make sure no one would hurt you again. I'm generally protective of my clients, but my feelings for you have been beyond confusing."

You swallowed. You had been in a proverbial dry spell for years. Suddenly though, your dating life had gone from raining to pouring.

"Why do they deserve a chance while I don't?" he continued, his face contorting into sadness, then anger. "Because they're celebrities? Because they're what the audience wants to see?

If it's the right time, right place for them...then I'm also here. What makes me so wrong? Why can't I learn about you and see where it goes?"

"This isn't real life," you murmured. "I am contractually obligated to see these men. If something happens during that contracted period, then great. Dating has been hard ever since I stepped foot in Korea. It's not that I don't want to acknowledge you as a potential suitor, but-"

"I just don't fit into that part of the story," he breathed.

"Insu," you whispered, the tears now dangerously close to falling. "You're not being fair to either of us."

"I know," he muttered, turning away from you completely. "I know. I'm being selfish. I'm putting my wants before what you, well, legally have to do."

"It's not wrong to be selfish sometimes," you cooed, tugging on the back of his suit jacket. "But right now, I'm asking you not to be."

"That's a tough ask," he said quietly.

Sick of speaking to his back, you walked around his body to stand in front of him.

"We can be friendly," you said sternly. He had to understand. "We can be coworkers, but you have to stop with these pre-conceived notions you have of the contestants. They all seem genuinely kind and happy to be able to date without ridicule. They're just people searching for a connection."

Insu remained quiet, biting his lip, and looking anywhere but at you.

"I know it's hard not to be angry...when you don't get a chance at something...at someone," you corrected. "But please, if you really care like you say you do, just go easy on me."

Exhaling through his nose, he finally glanced down toward you. "I will. Only because it's for you."

Slowly nodding, you looked up at him with a sad smile. He really was lovely, and in another life, you may have bumped into him, and fallen hard. It was best to nip this in the bud before the two of you grew past flirting and casual jealousy. Whatever issue he had regarding celebrities was likely unrelated to you and more so to his career. You were certain there was much more to his story than wanting a chance to date. He didn't seem like the type to go after things so trivially.

"Can I go to sleep now?" you asked, the question quieter and more fragile than you had anticipated.

"Of course," he breathed. Pivoting and walking toward your door, he already had your room key in hand. "I shouldn't have forced you into a conversation. I'm sure you're exhausted."

"No," you sighed. "It was good we talked."

"I'm not sure if "good" would be the word I would use," he grumbled.

This caused you to smirk. "It can be a good conversation without actually feeling good about it."

Insu furrowed his brow. "Do you feel good about it?"

"Absolutely not," you laughed. "But I don't really have a say over my own life right now, do I?"

During a time where you should be worried about the four incredible men who had each whisked you off your feet, your thoughts were plagued with the conversation you had with Insu. Playing it backwards and forwards in your head, you tried to find a way to make everyone happy. No matter how much mental gymnastics you did, there was no conclusion. The situation was impossible.

You knew from the moment you had met your bodyguard that you had the fattest crush on him. In fact, it was easy to admit at this point. He was good looking, certainly had a tragic backstory, and in general, seemed morally grey. It was all of your favorite tropes about the male leads in every single book you had read. He was a protector and he made you feel so safe in a time that was so uncertain. Maybe it was a touch of Stockholm syndrome, but who could blame you?

But it was all over now. You had to put your adult pants on and squash the small kindling that had been ignited. It was what was best for everyone.

Spinning the ring that Hongseok had made for you around your finger, you paced the length of your hotel room. After a few days break, you were finally slated for another date. With an estranged Insu and a generally stuffy Hyuk, your days had been long. You had met a handful of times with producers, as well as your old apartment complex. The police were still trying to sort out what exactly had happened during your break in. Suspects were hard to find when the entire country's eyes were focused on you.

Thinking back to the dates you had already been on, a thought struck you. You were over halfway complete with the first round. Four men had graced your life, while only three men were left waiting in the wings. It was an odd thought that you had met so many different personalities in the past two weeks. At times, this whole experience felt like a fever dream.

Your evening with Jungkook had been so simple in the best way. When meeting someone with the level of star power he had, you were expecting a big personality. It was refreshing to find him to be so down to earth. He was so expressive and understanding with his words and actions. Talking to him was like talking to a childhood friend. You had been at ease instantly and he still acted as a calming balm to your soul. Running into him in the hallway had only confirmed that.

The day you spent with Hongseok, however, felt like a true first date. It wasn't that you were totally awkward with each other, but you definitely had to warm up. After a strained first interaction, it was easy to see that he was tooth achingly sweet. With an endless supply of jokes and stories, the butterflies in your stomach knew no peace with him. If there was any consolation to your apartment being broken into, it was that he was the one to help you through it.

Rebounding from the shock of losing most of your worldly possessions, San was a perfect date to follow. The man was quite literally a walking green flag. His innocence and naturally cute mannerisms made you feel like you had been dropped inside of a rom com. He was a soft boy. Even after he had been injured, he worried about how you were doing. Plus, you had to begrudgingly admit, you kind of liked the nickname he had given you.

Your last date had still left you reeling. Being with Jackson was like constantly holding your breath. He was incredibly kind, but also incredibly hot. He oozed sex appeal, and it was easy to get lost in the idea of a first kiss with him. His date had been a little more involved than the others, but you felt like it had represented him well. He had so many different sides to him that it was hard to peg down. He was an enigma, and you were hopeful that you would get to explore your relationship more.

You closed your eyes as you heard a knock on the door. "Y/N," Insu called softly. "It's time."

Taking a deep breath, you nodded to yourself. Another evening date meant another appearance of Insu the chaperone. You knew he was likely to behave better this time, but you still hated that he essentially had to watch you date other people. It was unfair.

Unlocking your door, he pushed gently against it, causing it to swing in toward you. Turning to face him, you were surprised to find a smile on his face.

"Well, aren't you cute."

"Insu..." you warned.

"He said in a totally platonic way," he smirked, motioning for you to come into the hall.

Rolling your eyes, you walked past him, instantly feeling lighter. He had been a bit quiet since your big conversation, so it was nice to see him getting back to himself.

"How are you feeling?" he asked as he took his place behind you.

"Nervous," you breathed. "But the good kind I think."

"Good," he hummed. "I know it's been hard to think of anything but the chaos going on around you, but you deserve to have a good time. Really enjoy what's happening."

Shooting a suspicious look over your shoulder, you quirked a brow. "Thanks."

Your expression caused him to laugh. "What?"

"I just..." you murmured, trying to pick your words carefully. "Wasn't expecting for you to be supportive after our conversation the other day."

"I've done my pouting," he sighed. "I just want you to be happy."

Stepping into the elevator at the end of the hall, your heart skipped a beat. He was too good for you anyway.

"Thank you," you said after a moment of silence. "Really."

"There's nothing to thank me for," he offered.

Unable to come up with a reply before the elevator doors slid open, you reached over and gave his bicep a quick squeeze. Shuffling into the lobby, you looked around, surprised to see the driver and camera men the only ones waiting for you.

"What-" you started but were immediately interrupted by Wu.

"Your date wanted to take a different mode of transportation," he sighed. "We're meeting him at the venue."

"Different mode of transportation," Insu clucked. "I wonder what that means."

...

Standing on the sidewalk in front of a record store, you watched the sun begin to set on the horizon. The colors were beautiful, but the lack of direct sunlight already caused the temperature to begin to plummet. Shivering slightly, you tried not to get annoyed. Where was your date?

After another five minutes of waiting, you were jostled from your thoughts by the revving of a loud engine. Looking up, you were surprised to see a large motorcycle easing smoothly up to the curb. Surely that couldn't be...

The driver began to fiddle with his bike, turning it off before reaching for the helmet he had been wearing. Freeing his head, he shook out his hair and ran his fingers through it. Honestly, it felt like you were watching a movie as he slid from the cycle and looked your way.

As soon as your eyes met, it felt like your breath had been stolen from your chest. Who was allowed to be that good looking? Even after popping off a helmet, he looked like a dream.

Shaggy black hair, pouty lips, and doe eyes, the man strode toward you, obviously in no hurry. Dressed in a black jean jacket with a grey hoodie underneath, black jeans, and converse, it looked like he had walked out of a magazine.

Remaining silent until he finally made his way before you, he offered a shy smile. "Hi."

"Hi," you choked out, suddenly overly aware of the lack of saliva in your mouth.

Tilting his head as he watched you curiously, he instantly noticed your arms wrapped around your torso. Without saying a word, he tugged off his jean jacket and held it in your direction.

"No, I'm fine-" you started, a natural reaction to not wanting to cause anyone trouble.

Lifting his brows, he shook it a bit. As you continued to stare, he heaved a sigh before walking around you and placing the coat across your shoulders. Stepping back in front of you, he grinned. "I'm Hyungwon, from Monsta X."

"I'm Y/N," you croaked. "From My Idol."

Hyungwon's smile grew in size as heat began to instantly creep up your neck. How did someone's simple existence make you so flustered?

"Nice to meet you, Y/N from My Idol," he chuckled. "Why don't we get you out of the cold and head inside?"

"Yes, inside," you said dumbly, already heated by your sheer embarrassment.

Hyungwon smiled again as he took a place beside you, putting his hand across your lower back to guide you into the building.

His fingers felt like they were searing a hole into the denim. You mentally chided yourself as you stumbled forward. Get it together, Y/N, or risk this being the most mortifying night of your life.

#bts #got7 #monsta x #seventeen #pentagon #stray kids #ateez #svt #monsta x hyungwon #mx hyungwon #hyungwon #chae hyungwon #hyungwon fluff #hyungwon angst #hyungwon x reader

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changingplumbob · 2 months

Note

hii!! 11-14 for the story questions

Hooray a chance to talk!!! And I actually really wanted to do these 4! Thank you Lori 😁 I'm throwing in a cut just because I write long answers, don't want to be cluttering dashboards.

11) Why have you decided to tell this story? Are there any messages or meanings within it?

It was about 6 months of me playing my rotations before I had the thought to record what was happening in story format. I was actually sticking with households and wanted to be able to look back and see how far they'd come, so I decided to start writing and taking screenshots. I've always liked creative writing throughout my life, but have been reluctant to share it, there's so much talent out there. I enjoyed writing about my sims so wanted to share it, mainly so I could talk to people about my sims because I have such fun playing.

Messages or meanings... I try to write most of my sims as being accepting. There's a lot of hate and bigotry in our world, and I like writing a world where there is minimal prejudice. Samir will never have to face sims distrusting him simply because he is of Arab descent. Devin will never face discrimination in casting simply because she is married to a woman. Joey will never have his job performance questioned simply because he has hearing loss.

I do write a few mean and narrow minded sims but they are few and far between. They are mainly there to add some realism but I want my sims to feel safe being who they are. So messages... judge someone for their character, not something that they have no control over (ethnicity, sexuality, gender, disability).

12) Do you actually play the game or do you just use it as a storytelling medium?

I LOVE playing! I preordered Sims 4! However, patience is not my strong suit. The longest I've played one household lasted from the teens in a household growing to YA and having a baby... I was the master of making a household, playing for a few in game weeks, then getting bored. Rotational play is great for me as it helps me stay invested, plus I love to micro manage.

I do consider that I'm playing my game and just recording what happens for the most part, Reece and Samir are the only ones I think of as me crafting a story. Apart from them I play pretty unplanned.

13) From basic planning to a finished post, how long does that take you?

I like to play, take screenshots, then write for those before returning to the game for another round of playing. Let me check some dates... The next households first part screenshots were taken on Jan 28th and I finished playing the household on Feb 3rd. Looks like I created the word document on Jan 28th and it was last edited on Feb 4th.

So 8 days to play and write the chapter. I'd guess another day to finish queuing the posts (I also do these as I go). But that is probably one of the faster ones. This latest one I've done has taken me over 2 weeks, yes I was away for a portion of that, and I've still not finished the writing. I'm currently unemployed so I have the time to spend on it. When I find a new job I imagine average creation time will double or triple.

Drafts from the past take about 3 minutes as it's just me getting a screenshot of whatever weirdness is happening and putting it in a post. Lookbooks can take several hours to string together, or less than 1 if I'm not providing new outfits. Build or Reno posts take maybe half an hour to put together, providing I took the screenshots I need. This post took me an hour to write because I'm having an IBS flare up and thinking deeply.

14) Do you have any regrets about your story so far? if you could go back in time, how would you fix these?

I am not a big one for regret in real life. I was for a long time but now I try to see the past as "things happened, I did the best I could in the circumstances with my resources and what I knew".

I do somewhat regret putting my earlier writing straight on Twitter with no copy to my hard drive because all that story is essentially lost to the black hole of the internet. BUT that's taught me to keep records of what I'm doing.

Story regrets... nope. I've sat here for 5 minutes and cannot think of one. I do feel sad about making all of Marta's family dead but I don't regret that choice. What I have done with my sims are things that made sense for the characters.

#dag dag or tag tag #Let the world have more compassion #Player first writer second #Some writing takes ages #Some writing almost writes itself #I'm not one for regrets

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eligobrrrrr · 14 days

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Hi babes, I hope you're having a good day! For your ask game:

🐱 and 🦐

HAHA GET BOOPED BACK >:)

Anyways, Hi Chris! (Is it ok if I call you Chris?)

🦐 - tell me about a character or story that is giving you shrimp emotions right now

omg SO, I'm still very emotionally invested right now on Thurak, my dearest half-orc barbarian cus I'm still working on his story and properly writing it down, maybe do some comics on events I consider happen in-game but don't happen actually cus they're innately tied to his backstory (So character interactions, fights and stuff)

So Imma just write down a short-ish summary of his backstory just because I have to let it out somehow, it is consuming my brain like a tadpole (I am also severely breaking canon on some parts, probably)

Draft of Thurak's backstory under the cut

So Thurak was born in the surface (probably Waterdeep), son of a human man and an orc woman, they were happy as a family... for just 2 years.

Yeah so turns out a criminal organization (specifically the Iron Ring) had an eye on them and Thurak got snatched very young because of that. When he was about 2 years old he was brought to Skullport in the Underdark where he was raised by one of the high commands of the Iron Ring, a male drow whom is currently unnamed. He was tasked to raise him and turn him into an useful asset for them

This drow was his father figure growing up, teaching him how to speak and how to read (So Thurak's main language isn't common, is drowidic and undercommon), acting as a somewhat loving parent for him

His father introduced him to the concept of an arena the Iron Ring had to get him interested, slowly manipulating him to make him believe that he wanted to participate, and when Thurak was older his father started to get him to train to actually go into the arena

And Thurak did it ever so eagerly, becoming and absolute beast and somewhat of a star in there, earning the title of 'The Skullcrusher' (Because he was/is able to do that)

The Iron Ring is known in the Underdark for their slave trade, and in my version they use this arena as a showcase for some of them

His father actively tried to keep him away of all this slaves, mostly out of fear that they would undo all the hard work he put into manipulating him when he saw their condition (cus he lied to Thurak telling him that every warrior chose to be there)

Unfortunately he couldn't stop him and he became friends with someone there, and, well, Thurak told his father about his friend, father went "Not in my watch" and to be a lil bitch he arranged a deathmatch between the two of them

Thurak is alive so you can imagine how it went

Back at home he returned to his father absolutely fuming, basically screaming at him how he could let something like that happen, how dare he let something like that happen, father just responded like "Take it as a little lesson, don't get close to those people, now now, join me for dinner," Thurak was obviously enraged by this, still screaming at him, so his father threatened him that if he didn't behave he would throw him with the rest of his "friends" as he put it

Thurak snapped at him, almost punched him, got stopped by one of his father's bodyguards and he was, in fact, thrown with the rest of the slaves, telling him that he was very disappointed of him and to take this as his punishment. Thurak went from living in luxury to the slumps basically

He was bitter and angry and sad, he had, so many conflicting emotions at that point. There he met more of the fighters, and they slowly but surely started making a break out plan

Some time of planning passes (could be months could be a couple of years) and with Thurak's knowledge of the arena both in and out they managed a plan to break out and leave Skullport and the Underdark for good

Long story short, they succeeded, not everyone got out but most of their team did

So they returned to the surface, becoming something akin to a caravan, travelling from city to city, Thurak became one of the main protectors, he had to put to use that strength for something

They unfortunately were in Baldur's Gate at the time of the Nautiloid snatching, so Thurak (and other people from the caravan) got taken

This is some in-game event notes (This is Thurak as a companion stuff basically):

Very minor notes, his main objective would be to find the other people who got snatched, slowly finding out along the way that for some god forsaken reason the Iron Ring got somehow involved with the cult of the absolute (through the underdark slave trade)

His 'final boss' would be his father basically, still working on that interaction

He canonically is a wild magic barb and there are some lore stuff that made me point to his magic surges being probably netherese magic

Mostly cus Skullport is built atop netherese ruins and the tadpole probably awaken some residual power Thurak was carrying with him

SO YES, that is all my notes from Thurak's backstory

He is making me go absolutely mental I love him sm I need to do more stuff with his story (as in write, art, etc.)

Anyways thank you for the ask! I love talking about my silly (sometimes not so little) guys!

#EliAnswers #tashas-cauldron-of-magic-soup #EliGoCharacters #Tav: Thurak #<- Few times I actually use this tag here hjadakfjhak

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heleneplays · 1 year

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shaking sobbing crying over SOOOO many good demos ive just had the pleasure of reading and like. AUTHORS PLS KNOW IM GOING STUPID FERAL OVER YOUR WORKS AAAAAAAA

the wars we wage by mah_sanogo (cog forum) - when I was browsing the dashingdon page I got intrigued by the summary (lmao i am currently looking for more isekai IFs >< if yall have a rec aside kingdoms & empires my inbox is OPEN <3) and while technical wise there's still a lot to correct (esp typos), the idea is VERY solid + as a fellow fan of Youjo Senki, i am SO thrilled to play, getting into a very oblivious MC and hopefully reach my goals. ALSO GOD????? CAN I FIGHT & ROMANCE GOD???? i wish 2 know bc i KNOW we can fight (technically) and im 👉🏻👈🏻

Before we are Ghosts by @anjiefiction - HELP HELP HELPPPPPPPPPPP FROM CRACK I IMMEDIATE GO TO SHAKING SOBBING THROWING UP— author i am. *clenches my fist* SO in love with this heartbreaking concept and i'm literally honest to God sobbing into my teddy bear wishing I could hug MC rn. and everyone else honestly, they need all the hugs SO bad 😭😭😭 Anyways to anyone who wants to plays this game, fucking get your tissues ready bc you'll sob with the pain and angst and. the tenderness that's still abt to come 🥺🥺🥺

Vendetta by @vendetta-if - IT'S BEEN SOOOOO LONG since i actually played through the demo, and replaying it now......... GETTING BACK INTO MY VILLAIN ERA HEE HEE HEE <3

Sinners by @sinners-if - if villain bad why hot??? <- literally the only thought in my mind EVER!!! anyway, reading the update to ch 2 on itch.io was SO unexpected, i remember only reading it on dashingdon and then. yeah. twine has never looked so good. ANYWAYS WE'RE COMING ALONG SOOOO NICELY <3 and i cannot WAIT to see what happens next!!!!!!! (also sidenote i am reading allnthe drabbles available and im. 🤡🚩over here.)

The Price of Emeralds by @thournewrites - currently scream laughing @ my MC in this one bc WOW bestie your shit out of luck!!!!!! and KDHDJDKDK HELP HELPPPPP not me getting clowned on by the og ro :((( welp! wishing them a very yess get u in that funky crew and get that money bby girl <3

Replica: between universes by @replicabetweenblogs - i see multiverse and i immediately think abt helene-verse and DEAR GOD this wip!!!!! im biting myself soooo bad rn im being absolutely INSANE abt the whole thing!!!!!!!!!! im 7 ways enamored with everyone but most especially to the bestest little sister i am going to love and cherish now and forever 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

The Eye of Eikshal by atlas7 (CoG forum) - :3c :3c :3c intrigue??? WITH A BUNCH OF FOUND FAMILY BESTIES??????? oh boy, not to mention a benefactor turned adoptive father who's wish is for the kids to actually be happy???? man. investing rn on it <3

Through Broken Lenses by Interestedparty (CoG forum) - ok on a more serious note, this story was actually one of the first ever wips i've read in dashingdon and rereading it today had me. well. feeling a lot of 😔😔😔 anyways Vi, you're so fucking mecore and much as MC is traumatized in this one, all I can say is that I she can't help but watch you :)

I actually have several more tabs left to go through but it's literally 2 am and I have been writing this on my phone since 5 pm yesterday so. yeet!!!

#so many wonderful WIPs and so little time to go through them all #honestly this IF bend is making my brain juices go wild let me all tell you that much #2 days ago I was in a fantasy/romance mood and then now im in a mystery/angst/crime mood and i think thats v sexy of me #anyways. MWAH thank you authors for your brilliant works <3 <3 <3 #if recs #lee plays dashingdon demos #personal.txt #mod lee speaks stuff

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gingerteaonthetardis · 6 months

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Wait have u seen what happens later?! Is it good?

yeah, i did see it, i saw it in theaters yesterday! i went with my mum and we had such a good time!

as for if it's good or not... oh boy. let me start with the disclaimer that i am the judgemental bitch of the universe, i can't turn it off, i am insufferable and i know this. also, i was squinting the whole time because i need new glasses. embarrassing.

SO. there are absolutely good things about it, i would say. there are several scenes that will be sticking like fucking glue in my brain for the indefinite future. the premise is hella cute and the acting was good overall (in my extremely uneducated opinion)... both meg ryan and david duchovny are so ruthlessly endearing it makes me want to actually scream, and together they cooked up a few really magical moments.

when dd's character got tears in his eyes talking about his daughter, i wanted to throw up. never let that man cry in front of me again, i can't take it!!!!!! and any time they spent laughing together was, like, electric to me. meg ryan has such a warmth to her that hasn't faded in her time away from filmmaking, and seeing her again just filled me with good happy feelings. (also, some parts of it gave me the good old au brain itch, which is always a sign i'm invested.)

however, i will also say that the movie is rather long and does occasionally feel long. mostly because the writing isn't, like, spectacular. not bad, just not quite as glittering as i would want for a film with only two actors in it. i don't want to get into the writing too much, because then i will start going on forever, because like i said, i'm insufferable.

also. okay. this is probably such an annoying nitpick, but damn this movie reused a lot of b-roll. like, they recycled this one establishing shot (which reminded me of the shot of the arctic base in the x-files episode 'ice', by the way) what felt like fifteen times. which is a bummer, because they kind of used exterior shots like paragraph breaks. since, you know, there were no other characters to fall back on. that sometimes made the pacing feel weird. it did add to the kind of liminal, claustrophobic vibe of being stuck in an airport with your ex, though.

i read an interview with them about how they didn't have time or budget for doing loads of takes or reshoots, and i think that constraint was both a blessing and a curse. they got a lot of really good, organic moments that felt very alive that way! but there were also moments that didn't quite hit, moments that should have had more time in the editing bay or time to be worked out on set. i also seriously wish someone had punched up the writing a tiny bit more.

on the whole, i would say that it's pretty good. if you go in with hallmark movie expectations, you are sufficiently parasocially attached to the actors, or you just love romcoms, you will probably have an excellent time. if you want to see david duchovny hit a blunt and then choke, like me, you will have an especially excellent time. the characters were flawed and occasionally frustratingly out of touch (on purpose?? i don't know, i am simply too young and silly 😌), but they also had moments of depth and warmth and sincerity.

i liked it, in spite of my rabid need to critique everything on god's green earth. i will probably watch it again not on the big screen and see if i prefer it that way (i suspect i will).

also did i mention they get drunk and flirty. because they get drunk and flirty and it's soooooo damn cute.

#HI WOW SORRY FOR THE ESSAY #i am constitutionally incapable of not overthinking unfortunately :(#abbey.txt #markwatneyandenesemble

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cringecompanionapologist · 6 months

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Balloon Debate: WTF Is Even This Short Trip?

So, here I am following up on Balloon Debate. It's time to discuss exactly wtf happens in this thing.

I'll include a cut for Spoilers because I'm going to spoil the whole damn thing.

I'll explain the Basic Premise for anyone who hasn't read my previous posts about it. Balloon Debate is a Short Trip in which Sarah Jane writes a little story in universe about some weird interdimensional disaster where the televised companions of the first 7 Doctors all end up in the TARDIS together at the same time. This causes the TARDIS to go all screwy and start getting smaller on the inside. K9, who serves the role of Exposition Bot, reports that the life support will soon only be enough to sustain six passengers. Since a TARDIS is meant to be piloted by six people, this makes sense. As a robot, K9 doesn't need oxygen, so he doesn't count. But, the only way for any of the companions to survive for long enough to help the Doctor/escape the TARDIS, is to throw a few rooms into the vortex with most of the passengers as well.

The vast majority of companions immediately accept that people are gonna die and that the goal is to make it be not them. The only one to immediately protest this is Adric.

And of course he gets picked on for wanting to find a better solution to the problem, because he is Adric and this was written in 2003.

So, while Adric messes around with the console in an attempt to save everyone's lives, it's decided that everyone will take a turn arguing why they should be among the six survivors. Everyone is also a dick to Mel.

So, if you're too negative or positive, we hate you. Got it.

Look, this blog is called Cringe Companion Apologist for a reason. I'm always going to complain about unpopular companions being treated unfairly. This story has a lot of that.

Anyway, the debate begins. They go in alphabetical order, so Ace makes her argument first.

Adric's turn doesn't go very well for him, since he's still trying to save everyone's collective asses. He's taking a while, so Turlough gets impatient, but at least he believes in him.

Adric tries something and the console zaps him. He dies. Because he's Adric.

Since Tegan appears to know Turlough, that means she's from a point in her timeline where she's seen Adric die before. You'd think she, and possibly Nyssa, would have some sort of reaction to this, but no one really does and the debate goes on.

I'm not going to throw in a screenshot of every argument because that's too many screenshots. From here on out, I'll only include ones that I can't easily sum up by myself. Most arguments amount to "I'm a badass" or "I'm a genius". Barbara's is one of the more unique.

While most companions make arguments about why they shouldn't die, there are a few other types of argument. Ben just wants to go where Polly goes, Polly goes where Ben goes, and Ian goes where Barbara goes. I'm skipping around here because of how similar their arguments are. None of them are very complicated.

Dodo is the first of many "I know I'm totally fucked but" arguments.

Out of the companions that are often treated poorly, unlike with Adric and Mel, this story is actually pretty kind to Dodo.

Harry offers to sacrifice himself for one of the ladies.

Inspired by Harry's willingness to die, Leela speaks out of turn, skipping several people, to declare her willingness to die a warrior's death.

Jamie is also ready to die, because he's spent quite a while being willing to die for the people he's loyal to.

It's sweet that Zoe is invested in someone other than her surviving. Will Ian/Barbara and Ben/Polly are couples who will Live Together or Die Together, Jamie and Zoe come across as just good friends who care about each other.

Then it's Jo's turn to be bullied make her case. Sarah Jane is more special than her and Liz is smarter. A lot of drama with Three's companions here.

This would be Mel's turn if everyone wasn't awful.

At least Nyssa feels bad about it. She wins the Good Person Award for this. She also decides that, though she's got science knowledge, other people would be better than her and she's already outlived the rest of her species, so she's ready to go. She'd be useful in keeping the rest of the survivors from killing each other, but okay.

Peri is another unpopular companion who's treated at least decently. She's too young to die, but she knows that she doesn't have many useful skills. There really isn't much for her to say.

The Romanas make their argument together, though they're aware that There Can Be Only One. Then Romana I completely screws over Romana II.

Since Sarah Jane is the one writing this story, it's sort of a given that she'll be one of the survivors. Whatever her argument is, it's really not important. She just kinda wants to be a companion again and is really motivated.

Steven is willing to sacrifice himself as long as someone takes care of Hi-Fi, the stuffed panda who was his only friend during two years of solitary confinement. Nobody volunteers to look after the panda because they're all terrible people.

You'd think Susan would be obvious, but Romana I pulls a "where's the birth certificate" on her.

Again. Terrible People.

Tegan's argument is slightly interrupted by Turlough.

Turlough, meanwhile, is still with Adric, wondering why they don't try to find a less lethal solution. But he sulks, so we're supposed to not like him.

I will admit that Turlough seems in-character here, at the very least.

Vicki sees herself as Not Susan and if Susan isn't surviving this, she knows she's not. Because Ian and Barbara were clearly traveling with Susan and hadn't met her yet, Steven is the supportive co-companion.

Victoria has nothing to appeal to except pity. This somehow works better than when anyone else does it.

Lastly, Zoe has some simple, logical arguments.

So, we don't know how voting worked or who voted for who, but the winners are Harry, Liz, Romana I, Sarah Jane, Victoria, and Zoe. We're treated to the last moments of everyone else.

Honestly, if Peri and approached either Turlough or Jamie and insisted, they probably would've comforted her. Jamie would be a gentleman and Turlough would probably want to be comforted too, but would never admit it. So, they died as they lived: confused, miserable, and annoyed with Mel.

You might be wondering why Harry didn't take the place of one of the women like he said he would. Once it's revealed that this is a story Sarah Jane is writing for her own amusement, she admits that it was out-of-character for him not to do that.

To sum up the rest of the story, they took too long debated and the TARDIS has decided that There Can Be Only Two now, leaving Sarah Jane and Victoria. K9 gets a message from the Doctor (somehow) that he's gone to another dimension, can never return, knew he could only take one companion, and he chose Victoria. The Victoria in the TARDIS is actually Kamelion and K9 shoots him. Sarah Jane seems to think it makes sense that Victoria would be the chosen companion, though I still don't get it.

Sarah Jane had writer's block and she wrote this just to get out of it and it was never meant to be seen by Man. She never met most of the companions she was writing about and wrote them based on...stories she heard about them, or something.

The answer to the WTF Is Wrong with Everybody question is unknown to this very day.

#balloon debate #too many companions i don't wanna tag them all again #i'll tag the six survivors i guess #sarah jane smith #victoria waterfield #zoe heriot #harry sullivan #liz shaw #romana i #everyone's a dick to mel #turlough was right and did nothing wrong #everyone's a dick to adric but at least turlough believed in him #romana i screwed over her fellow time lords to get her spot #justice for susan #wtf even is this story #this post is long because wow

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dontforgetoctober3rd · 5 months

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Spillways (Chapter 2) A Gilded Age fanfic

(The title is taken from one of my favorite Ghost songs, which is about confronting old wounds and pain in order to heal so you can move forward.)

Faceclaims for George and Randolph Stewart

Contents: Prologue, Chapter 1

Word count: 1441

Summary: All of New York society is in a tizzy over the news: The Earl of Galloway is in town with his son, the 30 year old (bachelor) Randolph. Marriage-minded mamas are on the prowl but the Earl and his son eschew most of the lavish parties and teas they’re invited to...except to a certain tea with Agnes Van Rhijn and her niece, Marian.

Rating: Everyone (Ratings will be *by chapter*, so subsequent installments might differ in their rating.)

Author's Notes: This is a canon-divergence story beginning a few months from episode 5 of Season 2. This is obviously not going to be historically accurate, also I'm from America and I've only gleaned a cursory knowledge of the Scottish peerage from my reading and basically am just using the titles, locations and names as vehicles for these characters please just go with it lmao

DISCLAIMER: I am not affiliated with The Gilded Age in any way beyond being a fan, I do not own the Gilded Age characters nor am I using them for any commercial purposes or making money from this, this is just basically word fanart of the show

Lovely divider is by @muchomago

—Five months ago—

Every time the letter came, she set it aside. As usual, she waited for Peggy to finish up for the day before dealing with it herself. Just seeing his name made her blood boil every time. Not even bothering to open it to read, same as all the others, Agnes Van Rhijn angrily ripped up the letter from George Stewart.

Since the death of her husband Arnold many years ago, the letters had begun coming regularly, like a bad case of the influenza. Instructing the servants to always throw out the letters from this George Stewart would have invited gossip, the last thing she wanted. She suspected Bannister already knew but he would never be so crass as to divulge Agnes’s history with the man to the rest of the servants.

“It is another solicitation for patronage. From Scotland, this one.” she had said in the beginning, in a noncommittal manner, to hide her anger. Bannister had merely nodded.

She had never written back (she refused to give him the satisfaction) but he had kept at it, sending a letter yet again. And Again. She tore up his letters. Again and again. Today was different, however. The sting of the reminder, the annoyance of it, his sheer audacity to keep trying to communicate…it mocked her now more than ever. Really, after Marian’s humiliating betrayal of having secured employment at a school and then for it all to become known at Dashiell’s welcoming tea the other week… she had had enough. No more.

With an efficiency she hadn’t possessed since boarding school, Agnes sat at her desk and smoothed out a crisp sheet of paper and quickly dipped her pen several times before beginning to write. Peggy would have been unable to properly convey the seething hatred she felt, this written rebuke to George Stewart must come from herself.

Agnes scribbled furiously, almost missing the inkwell several times, managing three sheets before finally packaging them in a sturdy envelope. Bannister was instructed to see it reached the Post Office Department steamboat before it left the harbor that week.

Enough was enough.

Let that wretched letter I got today be the last I ever hear from him…Agnes thought to herself.

—-- Present Day—--

“Father, I don’t see the issue. Marian Brook is from a great family.” Randolph Stewart stood before his father in their suite’s parlor, having just relayed his intention to call on Marian.

Lord George Stewart was not pleased. “Her breeding is not the issue. I did not bring you here with me to go prowling around for women. You’re to shadow me as I look over my investments in lumber and petrol-driven carts. Your future sources of additional income when you become Lord, might I remind you.”

Randolph was indignant. “Marian Brook is not the type of woman one goes ‘prowling’ for! Do not speak in such a way.”

“I will speak as I please.”

“Oh? What of your business with Mrs. Van Rhijn? It's quite rich of you to be berating me for calling on a lady when it is the sole reason we have sailed to the states.”

“I am not berating you. Furthermore, I am not going to call on Agnes Van Rhijn, I am going to meet with her. It’s a very crucial difference and not at all social, there’s no comparing the two situations.”

“So you say.”

“ENOUGH. Enough.” George huffed. “I am not going to bicker with my own son about this! We have several business meetings to attend to. You will not have time for your little tea with Miss Brook.”

“Oh, but you will have time for yours with Mrs. Van Rhijn?”

“I do not have a meeting with her yet but I will soon. I will figure out a way, never you mind.”

“Hmm. I am still going to the tea with Miss Brook.” Randolph said.

“As I have stated several times now, though, that is quite enough. I do not have to explain myself to you and you’re not to dismiss any of our appointments for something frivolous. You will do as I say.”

“Or what?” Randolph smirked. He knew where this argument was headed. His father would eventually give in, as he usually did these days.

Ever since their shouting match the day before George had finally received a response from Agnes, Randolph felt closer to his goal: living life on his own terms.

After they had ceased their screaming in that fight, Randolph had threatened to leave forever. He had said he would not return even if George would pass away. It would put the Earldom of Galloway in the uncomfortable position of trying to wrangle their new Earl back to Scotland while having a chosen family member looking after their holdings, like a common steward.

Randolph didn’t know what this Agnes Van Rhijn had written to his father, but after reading that letter he was a changed man. An out of character, sincere apology was given to him by his father the next morning. No longer did he bark orders at his son or moan about his many projects for the betterment of the poor. George Stewart’s contempt for Randolph’s hunger to change things in society seemed to have evaporated. He still made cutting remarks, yes, but as one would after reading a particularly bad book or having sat through a very boring play and not as if helping the less fortunate was something…revolting.

George Stewart had begun to finally behave like father, a person that Randolph admired instead of growing to hate. Better late than never, he supposed.

As for himself, Randolph felt changed as well. He could finally see that something horrible had eaten away at his father for many years and caused him much anguish. That had been the source of his anger and bitterness, and he had finally made a decision to confront it by coming to America.

Randolph was proud. He planned to thank Agnes Van Rhijn in person, even if she had no clue what her letter had accomplished, but he had another idea..one that could very well make Marian’s aunt direct her fury to him.

“You know, father, you could come with me. To this tea.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Father…if you must meet with Mrs. Van Rhijn, why not come with me? I can send a note to Miss Brook and ask for our upcoming visit to be at their home on 61st Street.”

“An Earl does not just foist himself upon events he is not invited to! It is unseemly! Where are your senses?”

“An Earl should also not deny so many invitations to promenade or dine. Accepting only the one to Mrs. Astor’s luncheon hardly seems proper to me. People might think we lack the funds to socialize around town as befits our station.” Randolph said idly, fiddling with a flower arrangement on a nearby table. “I can ask Miss Brook to send a formal invitation and include you on it.”

“Are you mad? Agnes Van Rhijn will never agree to it.” George stated.

“Yet Miss Brook was at a school, teaching a class on watercolors. I’m told her aunt wasn’t agreeable at first but eventually caved to the idea.”

George Stewart still was not persuaded. “If Agnes is as I remember her, she rules her house with an iron fist. Miss Brook would have better luck trying to part the red sea.”

“Miss Brook will do it, I know she can.” Randolph insisted. “So, shall I do it? Send her a note?”

When George remained silent, Randolph knew he had to go in for the kill.

“Of course, if you’d rather people think our family are paupers and can’t afford to-”

“Fine! Fine. Very well. Send the girl the note.” George said dismissively, rubbing his temples.

Randolph walked over, taking his father’s shoulder. “Father, you needn’t act as if you’re about to have your teeth pulled. Whatever this business you have with Agnes Van Rhijn is about, I’m sure that facing the issue head on is better than letting it fester any further.”

George covered his son’s hand on his shoulder with his own. “Randolph…you cannot know the shame it brings me. I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Of course you can! I will be there with you.”

George Stewart smiled briefly before standing from his chair, shuffling his suit before heading to their balcony.

Randolph felt elated. He was going to see Marian again and his father might finally get closure for whatever was plaguing him. It seemed too good to be true. Hopefully Agnes Van Rhijn was more accommodating when Marian came to her about this invitation.

NEXT: Chapter 3

#the gilded age #hbo the gilded age #agnes van rhijn #marian brook #the gilded age fanfiction #fanfiction #spillways fanfiction #*jeb bush voice* please clap

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tokiro07 · 11 months

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What does your "fouryearsandaanime" tag means?

I'm pretty sure I've mentioned it before, but you all know I love to hear myself talk, so I'm happy to go over it again!

It's a reference to Community, a sitcom about a community college, wherein one character Abed is a major film and TV buff. In one episode, he was obsessed with a show called The Cape, a short-lived real-world superhero show. When Abed pulls a The Cape-themed prank on main character Jeff, Jeff yells "that show's going to last three weeks!" to which Abed replies "six seasons and a movie!"

youtube

Ultimately Jeff's prediction wouldn't be too far off the mark, the show getting 10 episodes out of a planned 13 before its cancelation, but the Community fandom adopted the #sixseasonsandamovie slogan when fears arose that Community would be canceled. If I recall, there were several points where it got close to or even did get canceled, but when NBC canceled it after season 5, Yahoo picked it up for streaming for a sixth season and is ostensibly planning to release the movie this year. Perhaps I should catch up on the last season before that...

Anyway, I've definitely mentioned this before, but I am of the opinion that the optimal run-time for a Shonen Jump manga is four years, with three years often being unsatisfactory and anything beyond five years being diminishing returns (not naming names but I can think of plenty of manga that should have ended waaay earlier). It's not impossible for a shorter series to be good (Death Note ran for only two years) and of course there are plenty of longer-running series that maintain their quality (One Piece being the most obvious instance)

Some of my all-time favorites, Medaka Box and Majin Tantei Nougami Neuro, as well as fan favorites Demon Slayer and Assassination Classroom all had approximately four-year runs and had some of the best endings I've seen in Jump's lineup. Of course there are exceptions, like Promised Neverland's extremely rushed final arc and Nurarihyon's unfortunately timed cancelation (it needed at least one more year to tell the story it wanted to, but it wasn't performing well enough to get the chance outside of a quarterly run in Jump Giga), but like I said, this is just my opinion anyway and an empirical study would likely find fault with my logic

Of course, "andananime" refers to getting an anime, which is effectively the bare minimum requirement for a manga to be considered successful. The manga industry is surprisingly niche, with the more generalized audience only really being aware of it because of anime. More often than not, fans are introduced to manga through their anime adaptations, not the other way around. Attack on Titan and Demon Slayer both performed fine on their own, but their anime adaptations are what allowed them to skyrocket to success. Even the Demon Slayer anime was only performing decently for its first four months until episode 19 came out and set the internet on fire with one particularly well-animated sequence. No one was talking about it before then, and then suddenly it was a household name

Naturally, a bad adaptation won't draw in new readers, which I'm pretty sure is the reason Hinomaru Zumou still hasn't come stateside aside from the chapters that were run when MangaPlus started and got grandfathered in, but that's something only time will tell. For now, the fact that Undead Unluck has an anime announced at all means that the manga is selling well enough to warrant the investment that it takes to advertise it with an anime. I won't go into the economics of it, but the anime industry ain't cheap and requires a lot of different companies to come together to agree that something will be able to produce a return on investment, so making an anime out of a Jump property means that multiple people looked at it and said it was worth throwing money at

In short, #4y+1a is my way of saying I want a manga to succeed and reach a wide enough audience that I won't feel like I'm the only one who loves it. UU is halfway through its fourth year now, and will have an anime by the time it hits the four-year mark, and I've watched its fanbase grow from non-existent to consistently active (albeit small) since its inception, so for all intents and purposes, mission accomplished. CA is still in its infancy and has a much harder hill to climb since it's not a traditional Shonen action manga mixed with Nisio Isin's esoteric writing style, but the transition into this new battle-focused arc looks like it might be able to bolster it just enough to last until it has the chance to snowball into something...not big, but at least decently sized. It just needs to find its tribe, and #4y+1a is my rallying cry to help it do so

Will I use #4y+1a in the future? Maybe, maybe not. It depends on how well anything in the future grabs me. The author of Hinomaru Zumou has a new series starting in the next few weeks, so it's definitely possible! I probably won't start any new reviews, though; the candle's already lit at both ends, I don't have any more wicks to burn. Still, you can't help who you fall in love with, so if something new lights a fire in me, I'll have to find somewhere to put it!

#undead unluck #cipher academy #fouryearsandananime

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