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edenavari · 3 months

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On the Matter of Mirrors

Eddie is still trying to convince Steve he and Nancy are made for each other. It comes up, like, everytime they hang out, which is all the time, because Steve couldn’t stay away if he wanted to. He doesn’t, but he also wishes Eddie would quit trying to set him up with someone else.

‘Cause, like, here’s the thing. Steve likes girls. He also, he realized sometime after Robin came out to him, quite likes boys. He likes Eddie. Like… Really likes him. Practices pick-up lines in front of the mirror kind of like. Wears a little more black and tousles his hair just right to give himself a subversive edge he never used to have, just the right amount to trigger a subconscious response without appearing to be tweaking his fashion sense at all. Has mastered the art of wearing eyeliner without looking like he’s wearing it, and it took him a fucking while to work up the nerve to go out like that, not that anyone but Robin noticed.

But Eddie just will not drop the Nancy case, no matter how many times Steve tries to stir the conversation away from her, and between his budding crush and the crushing fear that it’s never gonna be anything but one-sided, between the slightest of sore spots Steve still sports about the way things with Nancy ended in the first place and the bitter edge of never managing for something to start with Eddie after weeks of efforts, it’s beginning to grate, right?

“So what’s the problem?” Eddie insists, bounding circles around Steve like an eager puppy, and something in Steve’s ribcage snaps.

They’re in Steve’s room studying when it comes up once a-fucking-gain. Eddie is taking accelerated summer classes so he can finally graduate by September, and by some inexplicable fuckery of fate, despite Steve’s own dirt poor records, he’s turning out to be a decent tutor. Something about Eddie managing to focus in a way a classroom environment never allowed him to. Maybe because most teachers and over half the student body were openly hostile at worst and aggressively ignoring Eddie at best, all because of his last name or his tattoos or his loud brassy cheek.

All the same, Eddie does get distracted fairly easily, and an hour in, he’s bounced off the bed and started rattling reasons Nancy Wheeler is definitely Steve Harrington’s soulmate. Steve groans noncommittally, gets up to grab his water from the desk and takes a long swallow as Eddie keeps needling him.

“You’re the problem, Eddie,” he all but snarls, when he really meant it to come out exasperated at worst.

He snarls, though, and Eddie stiffens, his eyes going cold and hurt and the corner of his mouth turned down in anger.

“Right,” he says, and it sounds so casual Steve thinks he won’t make a big deal of his tone after all. Fool’s hope. “I’ll get out of your perfect hair, then,” Eddie spits out as he makes for the door, only Steve stands in his way, hands up in surrender.

“Wait, I didn’t mean it like that,” he starts.

“No, you’re right, it’s none of my business,” Eddie interrupts, but he steps back, gesturing wildly as he speaks. “It’s not like we’re even friends, you just got saddled with me because of Dustin. We saved the world together? Big deal! My involvement was incidental, really, more of an inconvenience than any kind of help. Why would you want my opinion, of all people’s, right? Even by this point. Get out of my way, I’ll quit stepping on your toes. Go on!”

“I don’t want you to go, Eddie,” Steve tries again.

“Just want me to shut up, is that it? Not really my strong suit, you might have noticed.”

Steve can’t help smiling. “I have noticed.”

It only seems to rile Eddie up even more, throwing his hands out and making to step around Steve again. “Man, what do you want from me?”

“Is this allowed?” he breathes out, extending the last word beyond its scope.

Which puts him within reaching distance of Steve, who grabs him by the lapels of his jacket and presses him, careful not to jostle him too bad but firm enough to counter his manic strength, against the wall. He doesn’t know what to say, so he doesn’t say anything, just presses a touch too close, lets himself imagine that he’s going to close the distance entirely, cocks his head and licks his lips and hangs there in a way he hopes spells it out for Eddie without inducing any kind of panic.

Eddie, hands still up at shoulder height, lets out a little huff close to a whimper when his back hits the wall, bracing himself for a hit that would never come, and maybe some part of him knows this, because he doesn’t look scared or angry anymore, just kind of confused with a side of grief, and it doesn’t take two seconds for him to start to look intrigued, maybe even, if Steve allows himself a little optimism, interested.

His lips part on a sharp inhale, and they’re close enough to smell each other’s skin, and Eddie’s eyes drop to Steve’s mouth, a little watery and out of focus, edging forward in a way that could just be a twitch, just a consequence of holding his breath the way he is, plausibly deniable, subconscious no doubt, only when Steve mirrors the movement, he does it again, gaze moving up and down from Steve’s eyes to his lips and back and back again without blinking, until twitch by twitch their noses graze and their mouths connect and Steve closes his eyes and concentrates on maintaining that seal over Eddie’s plush, pliable pout, because if he didn’t focus, he’d be way, way overeager for a first kiss.

He moves back after several seconds with a shaky exhale, swallows as he finds Eddie’s eyes again. His blood is thrumming in his fingertips, somehow he feels both cold between his shoulder blades and warm down to his toes, and if Eddie looks at all put out he thinks he might never manage another mirror in his life.

The look on Eddie’s face is pure disbelief.

Steve shrugs, not quite settled on the matter of mirrors. “I thought you made a point of breaking the rules?”

A glint starts to wake in Eddie’s eye that’s looking more delighted by the minute.

“Just as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone.”

“We’re in the clear, then,” Steve whispers, leaning in, just a smidge.

Both of Eddie’s hands sink into his hair as he pulls him into another, much steamier, kiss. Steve lets his fists fall from Eddie’s lapels and knot over his back instead, lets his mouth drop slightly open, an invitation Eddie wastes not a second to follow through on, teeth scraping and back arching like he wants to sink all the way into Steve, and by the time they’re parting, breathless, cheeks flushed, mouths stinging, Steve’s one hand is braced against the wall, holding himself up, knees too weak to do the job on their own.

“I thought you could barely stand me,” Eddie heaves.

“I can’t,” Steve admits. “You drive me nuts. Just not how you thought.”

Eddie frowns, suddenly serious.

“You should forget all about Nancy.”

Steve frowns too. “That so?”

“Hm-mm. She’s taken, man. And not all that. You need to move on.”

“Damn,” Steve sighs. “Am I being desperate?”

“Pathetic,” Eddie nods, barely a whisper against Steve’s lips, and they break into smiles in tandem. “Forget all about her,” Eddie repeats.

“Who?” Is the last word Steve gets out. Then he’s busy enough he really does forget.

When he fixes his hair in the bathroom mirror in the morning, he walks away with a wink.

Give us a kudos, if ye dare x

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steve x eddie #steddie oneshot #first kiss

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ghouljams · 8 months

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THAT

the last tag

the # its not what Ghost needs at least

does Ghost ever tell Die that ? how does Die feel about it ? in your opinion, what *does* our Ghostie boy need ?

This is just my opinion and character analysis but what Ghost needs is a safe harbor, someone that he doesn't have to be Ghost with. What Hell thinks he needs is another weapon in his arsenal, and someone to cover his back(because the man is imho probably not taking great care of himself).

Die is a great compliment to Ghost, she's vicious, tactically smart, and enjoys her work. She's not, however, a good compliment to Simon; a man who's already gone through hell and doesn't need or want the reminder. A man who I think holds a lot of complex feelings over the man that he's become as Ghost, and who is desperately clinging to the idea that he's doing evil for the greater good.

Ghost is avoiding you. Which is a real testament to his abilities if you’re being honest. You’re quite literally tied to his soul and somehow he’s still managing to keep you from catching him. You thought things were going well. You finally got a decent meal, Ghost got to let out some of the meaner thoughts he’s had about you --you’re not examining that-- and everything should be totally good. Peachy even. So why the hell is your lieutenant dismissing you and brushing you off at every turn. You can’t even creep into his thoughts, he’s shut up tighter than a vault.

Soap catches Ghost's arm in the gym, "You seen Die, I had a question."

"Haven't seen 'er all morning." Ghost tells him evenly.

"Liar," You whisper in his ear. He swats at you, smacking your arm where you're hanging on his shoulders. You know he prefers not having you draw attention, but it's a small team. It's not like they don't know about the devil literally on his shoulder by now.

"Right," Soap says, like he doesn't quite believe him, "That why your shadow's all-" He motions with his hand. Ghost glances over his shoulder, then at the ground, checking what Soap means. You wave a hand, your shadow following the motion. Ghost groans.

"Alright off of me, go on." He shrugs his shoulders and you drop back into his shadow with a pout.

“What’s your question?” You pull yourself up from the darkness, sitting on the edge and trying to give Ghost the same cold shoulder.

“How do I get one o’ ya’?” Soap asks. That’s an easy one, even if it is outside of your jurisdiction.

“You don’t,” Ghost cuts in before you can say anything. You turn quickly to face him and he’s not even looking at you, “Die, dismissed.” You open your mouth to say something and he jerks his head to glare at you. Soap looks between the two of you as you finally pull yourself fully from his shadow. Fine. You’ll find something more fun to do than sit around waiting to get a crumb of conversation. You can ignore Ghost just as well as he ignores you.

Except that you can’t. The problem with being bound to someone’s soul is you sort of can’t turn off your connection to them. You’re never off of alert, never not keyed in to Ghost’s heart rate, to his adrenaline, to the sound of his voice. Always prepared to respond to any stimulus or order. It feels unnatural even being just outside the room.

You settle leaning against the wall by the door. Your anxiety and instincts clash, your fingers twisting the fabric of your skirt unsure what to do besides wait to be called on. You don’t know how humans function without each other.

“You don’t want a demon Johnny.” Ghost’s voice filters through everything, “You’re a good man, don’t be so quick to try and give that up.”

There’s a short lived silence as Soap responds.

“I’m not, and that- She’s a bloody testament to it. I can’t even touch her without-” He cuts himself off, unwilling to say it and give the feeling name. But you can feel it, his spike of anxiety, the anger and bitter sadness that rolls through your charge. Then disgust, and suddenly you know why he’s been avoiding you before Ghost can even say it. You represent everything he’s been made into, all the violence brought against him, being forced to laugh at death, to live with death, to claw his way out of a grave to something almost resembling a life. Yet here you are holding the last nail in the coffin of his humanity.

“What else am I supposed to think? You want to know how you get a demon?” Simon takes a shaky breath, you cover your ears even though you know it won’t do any good, “You become such a monster that Hell sends someone to keep an eye on you. So, don’t tell me you want one of those things.”

There’s a commotion from behind the doors, footsteps storming your way. You fix your face, quell your emotions, before the door opens and Ghost comes out. Soap’s still talking, hot on his tail, looking upset.

“-say that Ghost. You think Gaz and Price-” He spots you and stops. You know what he was going to ask, you think it’s nice that he’s so kind. Kind enough to try and spare your feelings. Feelings you don’t have. You’re graded for combat. You’re just another weapon in a vast arsenal. Cold, unfeeling, inhuman. You’re supposed to be, anyway.

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marlynnofmany · 10 months

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Shore Leave

I didn’t think I was homesick until I caught the unexpected sound of a toddler’s wild laughter from the spaceship bridge. Out in the hall, I whipped around to stick my head through the door with some very unprofessional curiosity. That hadn’t been an alien noise.

Up on screen was our new client who the captain was negotiating with, and also the client’s young daughter. She’d apparently come into Daddy’s room to show the nice aliens on the video call her favorite noisemaker.

“Okay honey, they think it’s great. Go on back to—” the patient father was interrupted by an electronic fart sound on high volume, and even louder peals of laughter from his child. “I’m sorry,” he said to the captain as he scooped up the wiggly youngster and carried her out of frame.

Captain Sunlight waited patiently, every inch the dignified yellow lizard alien who wasn’t about to let someone’s gleeful offspring ruffle her calm.

The human came back, minus the child but with a new food smear on the shoulder of his crisp uniform shirt. Nobody told him. The conversation resumed with nary a giggle, and with me waiting in the hall.

“…By that timeframe or sooner,” Captain Sunlight concluded. “We can’t have your colony going without the comforts of home for long! Farewell.” She held her position as Wio flicked a button with one blue-ringed tentacle, and the screen clicked off.

“I volunteer,” I said.

A lesser captain might have twitched, but she probably knew I was there. “That saves me the trouble of finding you to ask,” she said smoothly, turning her chair. “It’s a big delivery, with multiple cases, so we’ll get a couple others to go along too.”

“Sure, sure,” I said. “I’m sure they’ll love to visit a human colony.”

“Though we won’t need too much lifting power,” she continued, “Because it’s a lower-gravity world.”

“Yay!” I said with an honest grin. “That’s even better.”

***

Getting the shipment down the ramp was surprisingly difficult, because the hoversled was calibrated for the artificial gravity inside our ship. Even with Mimi clinging to the control panel as it passed the barrier, the dang thing bounced.

I leaped to pull it down; Paint shrieked and leapt out of the way; Zhee yelled at both of us; Mimi cranked the controls and overcorrected, almost crushing my feet. I leapt back next to Paint, who had already stumbled in the low gravity and fallen on orange sand that was actually a decent match for her scales. I managed not to land on top of her.

“Got it,” Mimi grumbled in that rough voice that always seemed out of place on a guy who looked like an octopus the color of mint chip ice cream. He scrambled off the back of the sled. “Don’t touch the controls until you get back.”

“Understood,” Zhee said, clicking forward to follow the sled. He made the best exit of all of us, only springing upward a little. All those legs probably helped. Bug aliens weren’t known for tripping over their own feet — something that Zhee was insufferably smug about, and something that I would never let him live down if it actually happened. Not today, though.

The minor excitement had made it obvious that the air on this low-grav world was indeed as thin as the scans had said, and there was no point in toughing it out until we got indoors. The three of us got our feet under us and put on the vaguely-uncomfortable breathing masks, then began maneuvering the sled as a team. Really Zhee was doing all of the work while Paint and I held onto the sides and calibrated our own relationships with gravity, but we could pretend. And the long walk across the landing pad gave me a chance to take in the sights.

The landing pad itself was pretty boring; a couple silver-gray ships on one side and a wide stone building on the other. No sign of our contact yet, but the instructions had been to meet at the sun-shelter. So that’s where we went. At a hoppity-bouncy pace that probably would have looked very silly to any local humans if they were out to see us yet.

As we got closer to the big sun-shelter, I could better appreciate the way its shape seemed built to funnel cool air in and warm air out. Also the view off the cliff. I got a good look at that too, over the edges of the flat hilltop that the landing pad covered.

My first impression was: weird desert. Sandy hillsides in reds and oranges, with a sun that was just above those hills, and already hot. A bunch of alien trees scattered around that looked like they wanted to be cacti. They were almost familiar, as if they’d been designed by someone who only had third-hand descriptions of Earth plants to work with.

The low gravity let them get wild in ways that would collapse back home. The tallest ones spread up into the sky in cylinders that bent and quested out in every direction like curious snakes, but at a vast scale. Others spiraled straight up like unicorn horns, or twisted together like lumpy brains the size of a house, or feathered out like thick fan blades with fractal patterns. A couple were probably star-shaped if you cut a cross section, and the sides reached out to make dividers that were probably handy to hide behind in a sandstorm.

I was so busy looking at the cactus trees and trying to decide if they had spines or not that I was surprised when the hoversled stopped. We’d reached the shelter.

Zhee rapped on the door with his pincher arm. It was stone too, and would have hurt my knuckles.

Where is everybody? I thought, looking around at the sun-bright area. It sure is getting hot out.

The door slid wide to the welcome sight of another human, who immediately ushered us inside.

“Come come, bring it in!” she said, waving both hands and bounding aside. Her skin was dark and her clothes were drapey, and she seemed to consider the matter urgent. Given how much the top of my head was starting to cook, I didn’t blame her.

The door wasn’t big enough for the sled. So we unloaded it through the doorway, as quickly as possible, with me sliding close to the human and Zhee standing on the sled and Paint standing behind it to push boxes forward and comment that the extreme heat was kind of nice, actually.

But even she, coldblooded though she was, had to admit that shade was nicer by the time we got everything unloaded. She helped turn the hoversled on its side at the recommendation of the human, who still hadn’t introduced herself. Flipping it around was weirdly easy in the low-grav. Once we got even the sled inside the room — very spacious, that — the human closed the door and greeted us properly.

Yes, she was the contact we were supposed to meet. Taeya, how-do-you-do. Yes, the weather here did get shockingly hot quickly. No, it wouldn’t be pleasant to go back out into that, even for the short jaunt to the ship. Did we have to rush off, or was there time for a cooling beverage or two?

“There is!” I told her. “The captain said we have two hours of wiggle room in our schedule — usually there’s more, but we have some urgent deliveries — anyway, two hours, three tops, because she wanted to, uh, ‘give me time among my own herd.’” I made finger quotes.

Taeya beamed. “Then let me give you a tour! This stuff will keep; the people coming to unpack it won’t need any help from me. C’mon downstairs.”

“Downstairs?” I asked.

She hopped behind the boxes and disappeared, waving a hand to follow. “Downstairs!”

With a glance at the others, I moved forward and floated down the red stone stairs, one hopping step at a time.

And there I found civilization.

Stairs led to streets and storefronts and vast, cavernous halls, all carved out of the rock. It was built mostly around the edges of the mesa from what I could tell, a curving, circular city with lots of air flow that left the central core solid and untouched. It didn’t quite feel like home to me, but it was so impressive that I didn’t mind.

Every boulevard had high ceilings, and even high benches, out of the way of foot traffic. Most of the surfaces were either painted or carved. And everywhere I looked, humans bounced instead of walking — which did look silly no matter how they approached it.

With the drapey, flowing, colorful clothes that everyone wore, it all looked like a society of cheerful wizards. I laughed behind my breathing mask, then asked Taeya if she thought I could take it off. She wasn’t wearing one, but then her lungs were used to thin air.

“Oh yes, I should have said,” she told me with a wave of gold-and-red sleeves. “We have oxygen generators lower down, to keep things comfortable. Along with the top-notch medical suites for keeping an eye on any low-grav degradation. Offworlders tend to ask about that.” She had a distinct twinkle in her eye as she said it.

“How handy,” I said.

Zhee peered judgmentally at the lightfooted humans. “Is that how you handle muscle atrophy? With medical adjustments?”

“Partly,” Taeya said.

“Mushers!” Paint exclaimed at the same time, pointing.

I turned, looking for sled dogs and thinking back to the time Paint had gotten to ride a hoversled while I pulled. I saw no dogs now, but a cluster of rickshaws pulled by people huffing like suburban joggers. They didn’t bounce, weighted down as they were. And their passengers looked like workout buddies urging them on until they got their own turns.

“Partly things like that,” Taeya finished smoothly.

I removed my breathing mask, eyeing a nearby restaurant and a closer flower display, then took a deep lungful of body odor and broke up laughing. When the nearest passersby had moved on, hopefully toward showers, I explained to my nonhuman crewmates that sometimes our own natural smell was unpleasant to us, with insufficient hygiene. Surely I’d told them that before.

“Right, you did,” Zhee said. “I still say it’s a deeply maladaptive trait.”

“I won’t argue with you on that count,” I told him, trying to fan the air casually.

Thankfully the rest of the crowd sported a more pleasant range of scents, and we hopped on down the road.

Taeya had something else to show us before nightfall.

“Nightfall?” I asked with some concern. “We’ve only got two hours, less now. Probably closer to one.”

Taeya responded by making a sharp turn toward a row of window slits, just a few inches wide by several times my height. Outside, the sun was already getting low.

“Oh,” I said eloquently.

“It’s the perfect time to see the flitters come out,” Taeya said with another hand wave. “Come on.”

More bouncing steps, another beautiful hallway full of murals, and another curving stairway down. Then we were, surprisingly, outside.

A sprawling garden of alien succulents covered the ground, with low burrows that I noticed moments before brilliantly-colored creatures began scampering out of them. These took to the sky in flashes of movement, flitting about as the name suggested, for all the world like tiny flying carpets that had been ferrets once.

Paint wanted to know if they bit. Zhee asked if they were food. I shook my head while Taeya told them both no. They were a lovely sight, and that’s all they needed to be. Plus they ate some local pests. Always a bonus.

The air was getting chilly already, to my surprise. Taeya did something deft with her clothes, pinning the drapey bits in a way that looked suddenly much warmer, with all that cloth wrapped around her.

“If you were staying longer, I’d suggest you get a local outfit,” she told me.

I nodded. “If I was staying longer, I’d take you up on that. Looks like a good design.” Clever and foreign, in a way that looked like several familiar things at once while managing to be none of them. And certainly nothing I’d ever worn.

Staring up at the whirling flitters as the light left the sky, I felt oddly sad. So much of this was halfway familiar, not the whole-hearted taste of home that I’d hoped for. But before I could get too maudlin, Taeya waved us back toward the carved-out city.

“C’mon, back into the good air,” she said. “One last thing before we get you back up to your ship.”

I hopped quietly after her. Zhee muttered about the theoretical taste of flitter meat while Paint made stiff-legged lizard hops out of the nighttime chill.

We were only a little ways down this new hallway before I heard music.

I bounded faster.

The great hall that Taeya led us into was lined with people around the edges, standing in rows and sitting on ledges, their voices echoing as they sang toward the center. I spotted instruments at some of the higher seats. People at the bottom swayed in time.

I didn’t know the words. But I knew the sound. A crowd of humans singing together; it was a glorious thing.

This is what I’ve been missing, I thought, breathing deeply. The air here smelled like flowers and spices and laundry detergent, and it was full of the sound of home. A vast roomful of people singing the same song, voices rebounding off the walls and bodies moving in joy.

I glanced back at Zhee and Paint. They both looked a little baffled. I asked over the music, “Do your people do much singing?”

“A bit? I guess?” Paint said. “But not all together like this.”

Zhee shook his head. “Why would you use your voice for music?” he asked. “How barbaric.”

I laughed and turned to Taeya, who was happy to teach me the words. There was even a bit of dancing with the next song, and that was an adventure in low gravity. So was the next. Zhee and Paint patiently observed from the doorway.

Then when one song ended, and a fast drumbeat paved the way for the next, I was surprised to see a number of people vacate the dance floor. I started to do the same, ready to say something about getting to the ship on time.

I didn’t realize that Taeya had left until she returned. She appeared at my elbow with two padded helmets and a smile.

“We’ve moved on to quick-beat time!” she told me over the rising music. “Does your captain need you back right now, or can you stay long enough to try a low-grav mosh pit?”

Our two hours were up and I knew it. I looked to Zhee and Paint, who were close enough to hear the conversation. Paint was sitting on one of the head-height benches. She looked down at Zhee.

He turned his head away, which meant nothing with his range of vision. He harrumphed. “Don’t break anything the medsystem can’t fix.”

“I’ll do my best!” I told him with a grin as I accepted a helmet. “Besides, I hear they have good ones here.”

Surrounded by a mix of old and new, I joined my people in the time-honored tradition of dancing more far vigorously than common sense dictated. The captain had said three hours tops.

~~~

The ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book. More to come!

#my writing #The Token Human #humans are weird #haso #hfy #colony worlds #writeblr #science fiction #humans are space orcs #low gravity

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spacequokka · 1 year

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About Time

Pairing: Changkyun x Reader Genre: Angst, Smut Rating: M Summary: You broke the number rule of fuck buddies and ghosted him. You think you don’t have to answer for that? Word Count: 3.5k Warnings: mentions of drinking, fingering, public unprotected vaginal sex, hair pulling, biting, creampie

Arrow: Gold > Friends (with benefits!) to Lovers AU

Thanks to everyone in @kvanity-main who patiently put up with my 99 questions and requests. Extra thanks to @jinsquishes for the beautiful banner. I recommend nvrmnd, Die for You, God Damn, and Horizon for this. Happy Valentine’s Day my lovelies!

One would assume a dark, crowded club would be the best place to avoid someone you’re ghosting. How could you ever hope to find anyone through all the bodies and smoke? Now add the fact that the person you’re avoiding hates places like this, and it should be perfect. Right?

Wrong.

Because across the fucking room with a red solo cup in one hand and a vape in the other was none other than the last person you planned to see tonight. You fully expected to see the Easter Bunny before Changkyun’s molten stare. A sharp elbow to your side yanked you out of the mental sinkhole you fell into the second your eyes met his.

“What the fuck are you staring at—” Vita followed your line of sight and gasped dramatically. “Ain’t no way. I thought he hated clubs. What the fuck is he doing here?”

You sputtered something that could’ve been a response in baby talk, mind thoroughly fucked as you scrambled to get your shit together. Quickly tossing back the rest of your drink, you looked around, frantically searching for the nearest exit. You’d even jump out of a third-story window at this moment.

“I’ve gotta get the fuck out of here.” You threw your cup away. “I can’t be here.”

“Wait, what?” She pulled on your arm. “No! Don’t leave me! You swore you’d hang out with me tonight.”

“Well, that was before Korean John Wick popped up looking like he’s gonna take me out with a pencil.” You looked at her, eyes pleading for understanding. “What if he comes over? He’s gonna ask why I’m not answering his calls and texts. What the fuck am I gonna say to him?”

Her grip tightened. “Be honest with him! Just flat out say you caught feelings and the situation doesn’t vibe for you anymore. I’m pretty sure he’d appreciate you being upfront with him instead of pulling this hide-and-go-seek shit.”

“Oh, fuck you, smart ass. You dodged Taehyung for weeks before you nutted up and told him the truth.”

Shock flashed in her eyes before she let go. “Wow. Digging deep in the past, ain’t you? At least I fucking told him.”

“Right.” You looked back at Changkyun. The cup and vape were gone, but his eyes were still on you as he watched with curiosity. “So I have at least another week or two before you can talk shit. God, he looks like he’s gonna come over. If he does…”

“Jesus, _____, just spit the words out and be done with it.” She crossed her arms. “It’s better than dragging this out any longer. Trust me. What’s he gonna do? Dump you? You’re not dating. At the most, he’ll agree it won’t work and walk away. He isn’t the type to make a scene.”

As if to piss on her logic, Changkyun pushed away from the wall and headed in your direction, snaking through people without taking his eyes off you. Pure fear made your heart stutter as you grabbed her shoulders.

“Yeah, right. Tell him that, will you? I’m getting the fuck out of here.” You darted to the side. Stupid fucking heels and stupid fucking drinks made it hard to coordinate your limbs in a way that put as much space between you and the quiet storm behind you as fast as you could. Sure, it was a cowardly thing to do, but you weren’t in any shape to have a decent conversation with him. An honest one. One that formally put an end to the nights that bled into mornings where he’d cuddle you as the sun rose. To the moments you cherished while confusing you.

Not yet. You needed more time. Just a little more time.

Your eyes stung as you pushed your way through to the nearest glowing green ceiling sign. You just wanted out, away. Anything but face the truth, the inevitable hurt. The chilly night air was refreshing on your heated face when you stepped out the door. The panic softened just enough for your head to clear. Okay, you were in an alley. You just needed to figure out which way the street was so you could get a Lyft and—

The door opened behind you. Panic shot through you like shards of ice as you looked over your shoulder in horror and watched Changkyun step out. Time crawled to a stop as he adjusted his black leather jacket, pulling on the collar of his matching silk shirt. “Are you done running from me?”

Your mouth opened and closed as each train of thought derailed before making it to your lips. Running? In which sense? You turned around to face him, intent on saying something but ultimately failing because what the fuck should you say?

The longer he waited for you to speak, the more intense his stare got. “You realize the whole point of being fuck buddies is to actually fuck, right?” He pulled the door shut behind him then put his hands into his pocket, and cocked his head to the side. “And I’m not sure if you noticed, but uh, we haven’t fucked since—what—three weeks ago?”

“Something more like two and a half.” You mumbled.

His eyebrows rose. “Oh, so she does remember how to communicate.” He looked away and nodded, tongue poking the inside of his cheek. “Since I’m not worth the effort of a call or text, I won’t waste your time. Just tell me why we’re not fucking anymore and I’ll be on my way.” He gestured at you with his hand in his coat pocket. “Go on. Is it someone else?”

There was something in the way his frown and grouchy words didn’t match the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. Though it was brief, for a second you saw the Changkyun you wished you could be with all the time. The one who was emotionally available. “N-no. I haven’t…no one but you, Kyun.”

Confusion creased his brow even more. “So, then what is it? I give it to you good, right? I mean, the way you can’t even get out of bed after—”

“It’s not that. I promise.” You bit your lip and looked at your feet. “Please, Kyun. It’s hella stupid. I just…” You couldn’t bring yourself to say it. He was expecting some grand, logical reason when in reality it was so fucking…simple.

“What is it?” He prodded. His gaze dragged over your body before he looked away and changed his stance. “Jeez, you don’t have to overthink everything. Just spit it out.” He closed his eyes, swallowed, and lowered his voice. “Just say it.”

Maybe it was the sudden softness in his words that made your chest tighter as your throat and eyes burned. Right. Just say it. Let go and move on. You took a deep, shuddering breath. “I-I can’t do this anymore.”

His face tightened for a second as if he’d flinched from pain. For a solid minute, neither of you said a word, listening to the ambiance around you. The cars passing by on the street. The muffled bass of the music inside the club. The hum of electricity from the flickering streetlight nearby. Just when you thought you couldn’t take another moment of silence, he asked, “Why? Did I do something wrong?”

“No!” You reached out and nearly touched him before thinking better of it. “No. It’s me. My mistake. I—” You swallowed and looked around the dimly lit alley as if the words you needed to say would jump out and save your ass. How could you tell him the truth without ripping your heart out in the process? You hugged yourself and shut your eyes, willing the unshed tears to back the fuck off. You could cry it out later. Not here. Not in front of him. He’d told you plenty of times tears did nothing for him. “Fuck. When we started this, we both agreed to keep it casual. No feelings.”

He inhaled sharply and took a step forward. The crunch of the ground under his shoes made your eyes snap open. A mistake. His eyes widened upon seeing the tears lining yours. “Baby—”

You shook your head and hugged yourself tighter. “A-at first, that worked for me, Kyun. I swear it did. Sex with you is the greatest thing I’ve ever experienced so far in life. You’re amazing, so please don’t question that. But, as we got to know each other more, things got…complicated.”

“Really. Complicated, how?” He took another step closer and you took one back. “What complication justifies shutting me out?”

Your body sagged as your chest tightened to the point of pain. “Please, don’t make me say it.”

“I deserve to know the truth, don’t I? I’ve spent more time in the past six months in bed with you than I have on my own. I got to the point where I’m not used to waking up alone.” He licked his lips and exhaled hard. “Like, I get that fuck buddies aren’t as close as we are. Maybe friends with benefits doesn’t cover it either. Whatever it is, it’s good, right?”

You hated how your heart colored his words with hope and yearning. This wasn’t the same guy who swore to you he couldn’t do relationships. That you’d never catch him doing lovey-dovey couple stuff. That wasn’t him. Commitment wasn’t in his skillset. “For you.” You bit out after a gulp of air. “It’s good for you. I-I can’t separate the physical from the emotional stuff.” You looked at him through tears. “I tried so hard to keep it casual. I reminded myself over and over that you can’t give me lo—more. But you confused me! Insisting I stay each night, waking up with you. Telling me I’m beautiful and insisting we hang out for fun. How was I supposed to keep my heart out of it?”

His expression went blank, completely clueless as he stared at you. “What?”

“God, Kyun. For someone who says otherwise, you do the boyfriend thing really well.” You dried your face by dabbing at it with your coat sleeve. “For a minute, you had me imagining what it’d be like. And once I got to that point, I knew I couldn’t go on with this anymore. It hurts like hell to want someone in a way they’ll never want you.”

Changkyun blinked a few times before understanding dawned on his pretty face. “Oh.” He got a distant look in his eyes, looking down the alley at the street. “So…you caught feelings for me?”

Your arms dropped to your sides. The gut punch wasn’t as painful as you thought it’d be, but it still hurt. “I know I should’ve talked to you. I just…didn’t know what to say or how to say it.”

He bit his bottom lip and nodded then took a step towards you. You automatically took a step back so he took another. And another. And another. Your back collided with the wall of the building behind you and before you knew it, he was pressed against you, chest to chest, and looking into your eyes with an expression you’d never seen on his face before. Worse of all, it made your stomach turn with excitement in a way that only he ever could incite. His fingertips caressed your cheek before they traced down to your neck.

“Say it again,” his voice was low and warm like coffee on your tongue, “tell me what you imagined being with me was like.”

You sucked in cold air noticing how the tip of your nose was getting numb. “I—this isn’t a joke, Kyun!” You pushed at his chest. “I’m being serious—”

His fingers curled around the back of your neck and gently squeezed. “And so am I. I wanna hear it.” He pulled you close until your foreheads touched then gently rubbed his nose against yours. “You made me go weeks without hearing your voice or seeing your face over this. So, give it all to me. Every single thought. Make the pain worth it.”

Your heart skipped a beat. You swallowed hard and looked into his eyes. “I told you. It’s dumb. I just pictured stupid couple stuff like taking selfies, holding hands in front of your friends, or cuddling on a rainy day.”

He hummed as his fingertips caught the hem of your skirt. “I admit, that does sound like stupid couple stuff.” You scoffed and tried to pull away, so he quickly followed with, “But I’d do them with you if you really wanted to. At this point, there isn’t much I wouldn’t do with you. For you. To you.”

“What?” You searched his eyes, mind reeling as his words echoed in your head.

“Let me make a little confession of my own.” His free hand gripped your jaw between his thumb and index finger as the other splayed across your thigh. “Since I last saw you, I haven’t been out much. Maybe to the store. At first I thought maybe you were just busy. But then Jooheon would tell me he saw you out with your friend and each time I wondered if it was me. Maybe you were avoiding me.” He pulled your leg up on his hip. “At first, I told myself I didn’t care. That you’d get over whatever the fuck you were going through and come back when you were ready. But you never did.”

You gasped as his hand wandered between your bodies and toyed with the edge of your panties. “Kyun—”

“No, no. Shh. Listen to me. I need you to know how hard it was to stay away and give you space, baby. No one else touches this dick but you.” It was hard to focus on his words when his fingers started to stroke your clit through the sheer fabric. “I don’t even get hard at the thought of fucking anyone but you. That whole time you were gone? It was just me and my hand.” His lips brushed against yours, but he didn’t kiss you and smiled when you started to chase his mouth. “Just like you, hm? What did you use?”

His fingers pushed your panties aside and cupped your pussy, middle finger pressing between your folds. “My toys—oh, god—and fingers.” Your breath hitched as he dipped his finger inside.

He moved his hand from your chin to the wall. “Did they feel good? Better than me?” You shook your head and he bit his lip, rewarding your honesty with the rest of his finger buried to the hilt. “You look so fucking hot right now. This skirt. This top.” He leaned in and nipped at your neck, soothing the skin with a lick as he worked his finger in and out. “I saw you as soon as I walked in. Wanted you right then. Needed you…”

His words were smoke in your head, creating a dense fog of him that made you burn from the inside out. Your hips rolled on his hand, pace increasing when he added another finger. You were vaguely aware of how fucked out and needy you sounded as he pulled moans from you with just his hand. His lips caught yours and ended with a playful bite as he pulled his hand away.

“As needy as the last time we did this, huh?” He groaned in your ear, low and husky as he fumbled with his pants. You couldn’t even respond, too focused on helping him work the belt buckle and zipper. The second his dick was free, he pushed his pants down to his thighs and reached for yours. “Get up here.”

One leg went around his waist, and with a hop, so was the other. You put your arms around his neck. Using the wall for leverage, he gave you sloppy, frantic kisses as he held you up by your thighs, feeling around with the head of his dick for your entrance. You squealed when it pressed into your clit and he chuckled into your mouth as he angled his hips just right and—

“Say it, baby.” He hissed as he pushed in slowly. “Tell me again why you ghosted me.” You tightened your grip, nails digging into the sleeves of your coat, as his dick stretched you with an ache you missed. When it felt like it’d never stop, he was fully seated inside and twitching every time you clenched. “Say it.”

“B-because I fell for you.” You whimpered when he pulled back then snapped his hips once. A warning. “Ah! Fuck, Kyun.”

“I wanna hear you say it.”

You squeezed your eyes shut and hid your face. “I love you. I did it because I love you and I thought you wouldn’t feel the same.”

“Fucking finally.” He brushed a kiss to the side of your face and adjusted his grip on your thighs. “About time you came around, baby.” With another snap of his hips, he set a steady pace that he’d occasionally interrupt by grinding his pelvis against your clit, determined to get you both there as quickly as possible. “Need you to cum with me. Missed you so much. I hate waking up without you next to me. Need you th—Ah, fuck. So tight.”

Your fingertips caught the ends of his hair and you pulled on it. In response his strokes grew longer, deeper as he let you drop onto his length with a clap of skin. Every time he moved, sparks danced up your spine and through your limbs. “Oh, fuck!”

“It’s been so long, baby. Just a—just a little longer. I’m almost there.” He nudged your head back and kissed you hard, a clash of lips and tongue as he swallowed your moans while feeding you his own. You were vaguely aware of how the bricks dug into your back and hips, too lost in the pleasure you were drowning in. How had you stayed away from him for so long when he could do shit like this to you? You were crumbling to pieces in his arms, on his dick, and for once it didn’t scare you shitless. You could trust him to put you back together. You held his face and kissed him harder, trying to match his intensity. When he caught your tongue and sucked on it, you fell apart. You came hard, convulsing in his arms as he leaned back and switched to quick strokes, moaning your name as he reached his high. “Oh, shit. Fuck, baby, fuck. I love you. I love you so fucking much.”

He leaned against you with a whimper as his body rode the wave, pressing up into you as he stuffed your pussy with cum. Your lips met after a few misses and you laughed through a kiss. The kiss slowly turned to light pecks between shy smiles as he rubbed your thighs. “My back is gonna be so sore in the morning.”

He snorted and kissed you once more before helping you down onto your shaky feet. “That’s not the only thing that’ll be sore. The night is young.”

You playfully swatted his arm as you fixed your panties and skirt. “Ugh. My panties are wet and sticky.”

His arm came around your waist and pulled you against him. “My car’s not that far. We could go back to my place.”

The thought of leaving with him reminded you of what he’d said not too long ago. “…Did you mean it? Or was that just heat of the moment talk?”

He looked into your eyes. “I’ve been in love with you since the first night you stayed over.”

“What?! Kyun, that was like the first month into this. There’s no way—” He cut you off with a kiss, this one sweet and tender as if he’d break you with his lips.

“I didn’t say anything because I remembered the rules. It seemed like you were okay with the way things were so I was okay with it. As long as I knew I was the only one you went to, I could live like that.” He looked into your eyes as his thumb brushed over your bottom lip before brushing over your hair. “Then suddenly you were gone without an explanation why…and I realized I didn’t want to let you go. Not without a good reason. So, yeah. I meant it. And just in case you don’t believe me, I love you. And I’d love you even without the sex. My heart is yours…so take care of it.” He gave you a shy yet bratty pout.

You blinked and fanned your face, turning away so he couldn’t see. “I’ll do my best. Um, so to your place?”

He threaded your fingers together. “Yup.” He pulled you along towards the street. “We can take a shower, drink some water, then work on getting another noise complaint from my neighbors.”

“What are you gonna do when your landlord finally kicks your ass out?”

He looked at you and smiled. “Look for a place to share with you.”

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eashn · 10 months

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kuroo tetsurō | College AU hcs

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ 𓈈 🀢

summary: a comprehensive list of the CollegeAU!Kuroo headcanons that have been plaguing me for years.

warnings: allusions to alcohol, some sexual content, swearing, kuroo’s abs.

general

he’s double-majoring in business and chemistry—does hella good in both.

academic weapon

fairly active in the party scene, but won’t admit he secretly hates it sometimes. prefers the quieter, more refined bustle of the science library or the local cafés.

didn’t want to commit to the professional level, but still plays club volleyball. never quite finds another team that fits him like Nekoma did.

on the outside

those dark locks are unruly as ever.

he’s always been huge but reaaaaally buffed up after high school: broad shoulders and massive, sculpted lats. chiseled abs and the V-line of a fucking god.

he’s worked hard for that body (more on that under Habits), so he shows it off with what he chooses to wear

fitted tees

those sleek athletic compression shirts

prioritizes comfort—his wardrobe is definitely hoodies- and sweatpants-heavy. see images above for a visual

owns like, nine pairs of gray sweats. the cheeky bastard.

habits

hits the gym like it’s a religion. his routine is immaculate: strength training couple times a week, a run/jog outside nearly every day. he kickboxes sometimes. plays volleyball of course.

doesn’t take enough rest days

and forgets to stretch afterward. his shoulders are always tight because of it.

has a fairly decent sleep schedule

but. he’s a caffeine addict. pulls all-nighters at least once a month, flipping through his textbooks while sipping hot, black coffee.

takes his tea without sugar

and his whiskey neat

doesn’t drink much, though. especially at parties, he likes being able to talk intelligently—to nail first impressions with biting wit and laid-back charm. there’s a certain level of self-possession he cultivates in order to achieve that, though, and alcohol tends to mess with it.

always drives his friends home when they’ve had too much.

academics

he’s good.

really good.

aced Organic Chemistry his freshman year while everyone else was shitting their pants

chats with his Business professors during their office hours for fun

his notes are disgusting. loose leaf sheets stuffed into his books, chicken-scratch handwriting littering their margins.

can’t draw good Lewis Diagrams for shit. his Chemistry TAs give him hell for it.

still, he somehow manages to earn the highest test scores in the class.

competitive. silently simmers when he catches someone earn even a slightly higher grade. he always needs to be the best; he’s greedy for success and recognition.

total workaholic. grinds himself to the bone.

but also, he really, really loves what he does. the little things thrill him: an Acid-Base titration gone perfectly right, or a really good conversation about Keynesian economic theory.

he’s such a dork. he’ll never admit to it though

after hours

he’s not a fuckboy. he’s not.

he just…has a certain effect on women. and boy, does he know it.

as mentioned above, he parties fairly frequently—he’s a hot, outgoing twenty-something, so naturally he’s getting invited to a lot. but again, he doesn’t always enjoy the crowds and the noise, and he really doesn’t like getting wasted.

but if there’s one thing kuroo loves?

it’s attention.

though he lingers at the quieter edges of crowds, pretty girls still seek him out, striking up flirty conversation over the din of party music.

he’ll admit the talk itself is never actually interesting. none of those women are quite smart enough to keep up with him

but all the same, he goes home with them—because they all want him so much. and god, does that stroke some animalistic part of his ego.

the truth is, kuroo kinda needs to feel wanted. he’s a man that spends all his time competing—beating himself into shape to achieve his various goals. so, when people make him feel like he’s good enough as is, it’s worth a lot.

his hidden insecurities are part of the reason he won’t approach any truly intelligent women, the ones he notices in his lecture halls and classes. deep down, he’s a little scared of women that can dominate him academically.

but, secretly? he’s also really fucking attracted to that.

desperately wants to meet someone he can actually talk to, a person that’ll share in his ambition and can keep up with his wit.

but for now, settles just for fucking to relieve stress. wakes up more often than not to an empty bed, with no reminder left behind of the girl that was in it the night before.

A/N - thank you for reading! these were wayyyy too fun to write so this might be the prelude to a bunch more collegeAU!kuroo stuff i do in the future. send me an ask or a message if you’d like to be added to a taglist for that!

requests for haikyuu headcannons/drabbles are WIDE OPEN!!! send in an idea, and follow @eashn for more :)

#haikyuu #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu smut #kuroo tetsurō #kuroo smut #kuroo headcanons #kuroo imagine #hq boys #hq kuroo #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu!!

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steddieunderdogfics · 6 days

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This week’s writer spotlight feature is: MuseumGiftShopEraser! They have 9 works on AO3 in the Stranger Things Fandom, and 6 of those are in the Steddie tag!

Our anonymous nominator recommends the following works by @museumgiftshoperaser:

Paint the Devil on the Wall

Conversations About Love

Now I'm A Stranger

An Exercise In Denial

Baby, You Were Meant To Follow Me

Her fics are BEAUTIFUL. When I first read Paint the Devil on the Wall I was so obsessed I immediately recced the fic to everyone I knew who would be vaguely interested in a steddie fic. -- anonymous

Below the cut, @museumgiftshoperaser answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

I stumbled into it immediately after season 4 came out. I’ve felt very attached to Steve as a character from the beginning of the show and I think I was subconsciously waiting for someone to pair him up with. I think they’re both such great characters to explore themes of dealing with expectation (either by conforming, or fighting against it) and that’s something I always love to write about.

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

Absolute sucker for fake dating. Can’t get enough of it.

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

Enemies to lovers! Though now that I’m looking through my AO3 I haven’t actually written that much of it. It doesn’t have to be very intense enemies, though. I just like it when characters don’t immediately get along.

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

My brain has been forever rewired by took you for a working boy by pukner. It’s such a gentle, nuanced queer story. It feels vulnerable to me in a way that really only fanfiction can be. Can I sneak in another one?? Because everyone should also absolutely read the shame is on the other side by scoops_ahoy. It taps into this very specific kind of queer compartmentalizing, that I’ve never seen written this well. It broke my heart and patched it right back up.

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

I’ve been stupidly busy with my masters lately so there’s probably not a lot of writing on my horizon. I do have a wip called Doll that I’m slowly chipping away at. It’s a little darker than stuff I’ve written before. I know ‘dark’ isn’t really a trope, but I’m excited to see if I can push these characters a little further.

What is your writing process like?

Absolute chaos. I write non-chronologically, without an outline, all in the same document. I keep writing snippets and scenes until the whole thing slowly comes together.

Do you have any writing quirks?

Italicizing words for emphasis. I love it so much, you can rip it from my cold dead hands. It accidentally makes its way into my academic writing for my degree sometimes which is a little embarrassing, but I just love the flair of it.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

I don’t really do schedules, it doesn’t work for me at all. I try to make sure I have a decent amount of the story written before I start posting to give me a bit of a head start, but forcing myself to finish something by a certain date is a surefire way to kill my motivation.

Which fic are you most proud of?

Probably Paint the Devil on the Wall. It was the first time I’d written the entire story before I started posting so it went through way more rounds of editing than normal. I think you can really tell. It’s also the longest story I’ve ever written (in general, even outside of fanfic). The whole project gave me a lot of confidence as a writer.

How did you get the idea for Paint the Devil on the Wall?

I knew I wanted to participate in the Bigbang and the deadline was coming up, but I still didn’t have an idea. I decided to work backwards and try to think of something that would be fun for the artist(s) to draw. I had a vision of Eddie wearing dungarees without a shirt, absolutely covered in paint and I knew I had to write something to make it happen. I set the story in 80s New York because neo expressionism is really the only kind of art I could see Eddie making. I think it suits him very well. I do actually have a background in art, though! I’m currently getting my MFA, but I’ve worked full time as an artist for several years before that. I had a lot of fun working my passion for art (and all those art history classes I had to take) into the fic.

When writing Paint the Devil on the Wall, what was something you didn’t expect?

All of Steve’s character, to be honest. The fic is written from Eddie’s POV and for a large part of it he has a very hard time figuring out what Steve’s deal is. Right alongside him, I also had an incredibly hard time figuring out his character. It wasn’t until I was working on the final chapter that he finally clicked for me. I realized very late, just like Eddie, that Steve liked him from the very beginning. Most of the enemies to lovers premise was all in Eddie’s head.

What inspired Now I'm a Stranger?

Oh boy, that was forever ago! I remember I started writing it while I was camping with friends because I liked having something to do after everyone went to bed at night. I think I had the idea for that very first scene where Steve doesn’t remember Eddie and it all sort of spiraled from there.

What was your favorite part to write from An Exercise in Denial?

That was the very first fic I wrote, right after season 4 came out! I’ve never written something that fast, I think the whole thing took me less than a week. My favorite part was probably Robin being completely exasperated with both of them. They’re such complete idiots in that fic.

How do/did you feel writing Baby, You Were Meant To Follow Me?

Ahhh… I never got around to finishing that one. I probably never will, to be honest. I wrote the first two parts quite quickly and then the idea I had for the plot spiraled out of control and I realized I didn’t actually feel like writing the rest of it. There were going to be a lot of misunderstandings and I learned that I find that an incredibly frustrating trope to write (when done for drama at least. For comedy, I’m a sucker for misunderstandings.) So I guess I felt a little in over my head.

What was the most difficult part of writing Conversations About Love?

The ending! That fic is so incredibly personal to me and I knew from the beginning that I wanted it to have a very sappy, happy ending. It was important to me to write an aromantic character getting everything they wanted, but I realized as I was writing it that I don’t actually fully know what that means. So it took a bit more soul searching than fics typically do, but it was very much worth it.

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

I still think the short little prologue for Paint the Devil on the Wall is the best thing I’ve written. “You don’t draw on things that aren’t yours, baby” is probably the best summary I have for that story.

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

Not really!

Thank you to our author, @museumgiftshoperaser, and our anonymous nominator! See more of @museumgiftshoperaser works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

#writer's wednesday #steddie #steddie fic recs #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #stranger things #ao3 writer #steddie writers

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swampstew · 1 year

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Trafalgar Law's Yellow Submarine Prison

Oh shiiit its Yandere time! The Surgeon of Death has taken an interest in you, he hopes you're worth the effort. Law is a Diva.

WC: 611 CW: Spicy; not-gender specific reader; Yandere Trafalgar Law; kidnapping reader; consent/non con/dubious consent and maybe Stockholm syndrome?; murder and unhealthy relationship dynamics; reader is either prisoner or willing captive.

Law is honestly pretty annoyed at first. He knows he’s been taking his time with trying to find the One Piece, but he really didn’t need you as a distraction. Well, he wouldn’t be able to just leave you there now that he knows you exist. Can’t bear the idea of anyone else trying to get close to you, flirt with you, to…to kiss you! NOPE. Not on his watch, not on HIS New (Unsuspecting) Partner. He calls out to you and makes conversation with you, “oh you’re going that direction? I’ll walk with you.” Next thing you know, you’re by the pier and he holds out his hand, “room!”

You suddenly land in a very confined space. “Welcome to the Polar Tang,” he leers at you. It takes Bepo restraining you before you calm down. You were scrappier than he imagined and he was riled up. He lays it all out for you as Bepo soothes you from the anxiety attack and adrenaline rush. Apparently, the Surgeon of Death is in love with you and has decided to make you his no. 1 and you don’t get a say, also welcome to your new home; the submarine was already moving and you are officially a kidnappee, but uh try not to focus on that too much.

Law keeps pretty busy for someone who can appear so lazy and lax. For the first two weeks you mostly interact with his crew and learn more about Law through them than you do by the pirate captain himself. When you finally have more than an hour together where he’s not rushing off to scheme and plan, you’re less afraid of him than you were on day one but you’re still wary. This is fine for Law, he knew that you’d have an easier time adjusting to your position if you understood how things worked around here from the fairly decent people that made up his crew. Bepo always by your side to offer you comfort when you feel overwhelmed. Now that you’re face to face, you ask him two questions. Can you ever go back home? Will he ever hurt you? “No. No promises.”

Now that that’s out of the way – Law hopes you’ll sleep with him immediately; he’s been alone for a while and is touch starved. You decide to go the path of least resistance and he decides then and there that he’ll move heaven and earth for you. You’ll want for nothing as long as you stay loyal to him and his ambitions. Law will take care of you and shit he might even be willing to give his life for you if he had to. But that’s only for a good partner. Brats get a different version of him. Brats will be bent to his will. He doesn’t have time for his quest and to babysit your stubborn ass. He might humor you for a month or two at best, but if you don’t fall in line, he’ll start working on ways to make you compliant. You will not like all of them.

Is jealousy an issue? Yes without a doubt. Don’t ever invite trouble to find you, don’t wear anything too scandalous to invite pervs. Doesn’t matter if you didn’t do anything except exist – if someone makes a pass at you, you’re both getting his wrath. Law will crush the offender’s heart in his hands and you will be made to beg for his forgiveness. He also holds grudges worse than a Latin mother. You’re in for a lot of groveling, begging, and acts of service to get back in his good graces.

#trafalgar law x reader #cw yandere #swampstew bedtime stories #law x you #swampstew #swampstew stories #cw dubcon #cw noncon #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law #trafalgar one piece #one piece trafalgar law #trafalgardwaterlaw #law one piece #law x reader #trafalgar d law x reader #oh yandere!

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its-toast-time · 1 year

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I was thinking of what kind of a person Damian would be 10-15 years down the line and I accidentally created an OC group that I absolutely need to share bc I love them.

So I imagine that as Damian grows up, he mellows out in his own ways. He still talks very formally and has a semi-militaristic way of thinking but comes off more as a prickly introvert than a full blown assassin. At eighteen he’s more likely to glare at someone than stab them. Damian takes after Bruce in a lot of ways, he gains Bruce’s tall, wide build and complete inability to social interact. Sure, he can crush an interview or gala, but casual interaction? Forget it.

Damian goes to college away from home (not so far away he can’t visit, but far enough to be away from Gotham’s special brand of apeshit insanity). He decides to pursue becoming a veterinarian but mostly keeps to himself. He doesn’t talk to anyone, ever, unless absolutely necessary and even then it’s usually not more than 1-2 sentences.

Undergrad!Damian can be found usually in one of five spots: Class, Library, Dorm, Gym, or a cafe on the far end of campus. Now this cafe is mostly frequented by different arts majors. It’s a little hippy, but not enough to be trendy. It’s got somewhat decent food and drink, but not enough to be popular. The service isn’t great but the people who go there don’t really care. It’s mostly just a spot to work, be inspired, or lounge. Damian likes it because it’s quiet. He likes the constant scratch of sketching pencils, click of keyboards, and quiet mutter of people at work.

Damian picks a big table in a far back corner and claims it during his first week. One day, someone sits at the table with him. They don’t say a word, just hesitantly sit down with their work and sets it on the table. Damian glares at them and they meet his gaze. The two stand off for a little bit before Damian concedes to having company and goes back to whatever he was doing. The newcomer quietly does their work too. The two don’t speak, don’t acknowledge each other, just work in silence and leave.

It becomes a regular thing. They never talk, but they get used to each other. Slowly over the semester two or three more people show up. It’s basically the same process, sit down without a word, pass the silent vibe check, work at the table. By the end of the semester, they’re more or less an established group. No one has ever introduced themselves, Damian has no clue what any of their names are and he doesn’t care.

The next semester, they continue the same way. Damian quietly starts to note what classes they each work on and deduces they’re all in the same year. He also starts to take note of their regular orders. One week towards the end of the year, he has all of their drinks ready for them at the table. He’s met with a few surprised smiles and nods of the head. Maybe a raise of the cup in appreciation. It’s Damian’s small way of acknowledging them and solidifying for all of them that yes, they’re friends.

This kinda continues through the next 1-2 years. Each of them are kinda cut from similar cloth, introverted, socially inept, socially anxious, doesn’t really matter. At the end of the day they all suck at interaction and are perfect for each other because of that. They get to know each other from observing. They never quite get into having conversations per say, but people start talking. Someone breaks their silence one evening by saying there’s a good food truck two blocks away. It’s not a formal invitation, but everyone packs up their things and they go as a group anyway. Next time, someone at the table asks for an opinion on their palette for an assignment, they get a crisp, direct answer and move on. They all grow closer like this. Call and response conversations start to become common among them.

“Has anyone taken X class with X professor?” “Yeah, I hated it.” End of conversation.

“I’m going to see that ballet thing on Saturday.” “It’s supposed to rain that day.” End of conversation. All of them show up anyway, umbrellas in hand.

*eating skittles* “you know, most artificial red dyes are made from crushed beetles.” “Huh,” End of conversation.

*angry muttering* *curious noise* “fucking politics,” “oh yeah. Same.” *noises of agreement* End of conversation.

Sometimes there’s not even an interaction, someone just says something and no one feels the need to respond. It’s all good.

I’m sure some of the others in the group have other friends, maybe an SO or roommate, but all of them eventually come to the realization that their strange little group is special. They realize that they’d rather be at the cafe with their little group of people who can’t social interact than anywhere else.

By the time all of them are in Senior year, they have all mastered the art of having full conversations without actually saying very much at all. They “invite” each other out to stuff all the time, share news, have silent inside jokes, judge others, they’re a unit. If you see one of them and they aren’t busy, at least one more is nearby. Only… none of them know each others names. None of them have ever introduced themselves. If they know each others majors it’s because they figured it out based on their work. No one knows if anyone has siblings or where they’re from. Not a single one has had a conversation that was more than three minutes with any of them. They don’t even have each others phone numbers. Damian LOVES them. They’re his absolute best friends in the world.

His siblings are aware and after some light stalking are absolutely hyped for him. Dick dramatically grabs Damian by the shoulders while fake sobbing bc “My baby bird is all grown up! He’s got friends and everything! I’m so proud of you—“

Damian, horrified by his brother’s antics but also secretly enjoying the attention and absolutely delighted to be talking about his friends and filled with so much joy he thinks he found explode “Tt.”

Anyway, I love the idea of Damian making a group of introverted/socially inept people who gravitated towards one another. Bizarre little college kids.

I can’t tell what’s the funniest version of the identity reveal: Damian demanding their identities out of the blue to pay off their loans bc Dick said stalking is bad; Damian’s friends eventually recognizing him on TV/internet; all of them end up having Damian as their vet later in life and recognizing him; all of them becoming roomies and leaning each others names via lease contract/mail; or Damian having to protect his friends as a vigilante (they’re in Gotham for some reason post-college) them recognizing his build/voice/demeanor and it not actually mattering bc they still don’t know his civilian identity and all of them just having to accept that their buddy is Robin (or whatever he becomes as an adult).

#batkids #bruce wayne #damian wayne #damian al ghul #dick grayson #dick wayne #batman #jason todd #batboys #batfam #robin dc #dc robin #robin damian #jason wayne #dc #dc batman

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darksigns-exe · 7 months

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Sweet Like Honey - Loneliness No More

Warnings: Mentions of Alcohol, Brief Mention of Sexual Harassment (It's one line) Word Count: 2,3k

Read on AO3

They’re in the studio when her name pops up on the screen of his phone. Seeing her name and that pretty picture of her and Barnabas doesn’t fill him with dread anymore. They’re not out of the woods just yet, but it’s all coming along nicely. It’s hard work, but it’s worth it. Seeing her grow less hesitant towards him again was enough of a reward. The fact that she’s willing to give them another chance is good enough for him.

The message is simple enough.

Tash bailed on me. Do you want to go to that show with me? Ticket is already paid for.

They’d mostly met up with other people around since she’d come back. This would be the first time they’d be, sort of, on their own.

He agrees without even asking who they’d be seeing. Bee has decent enough taste in most things, it’ll be at least decent even if it isn’t exactly his taste. She’ll be there and that’s good enough for him. He’s fully aware that he’s acting like a lovesick teenager. She could ask him to walk from here to New York and he’d do it. It’s just a little bit embarrassing, but by God, no one has made him feel like this. And he still feels as if he has to amend for his fuckery.

A range of laughter makes him look up from his phone.

“You’re fucking cringe, dude.” Matt kicks against his shin “This shit is disgusting.”

He knows it's in jest, but he still has to bite the bitter words that he wants to throw at his friend back.

Noah tosses his phone back onto the desk, face down so that Matt doesn’t see that he’s made her his the background on his home screen again. He’ll have to change it again before they meet up. She doesn’t need to know how deep in it he truly is.

She texts him the time and place at some point during the day, it’s the little venue that’s just a couple of blocks away from where she lives. He makes it there with a bit of time to spare. Bee rounds the corner just as she makes it to the door of the venue. She’s in a little sundress that barely reaches the middle of her thighs. He tries not to think about how the fabric hugs the curve of her body, how gorgeous it makes her look. She picks up her step when she spots him waiting.

“You’re here.” She sounds almost surprised.

“Said I’d come.”

He feels himself twitch when she wraps him up in a tight hug. His hand comes to rest against the bare skin of her back. The feeling almost drives him insane. Her skin is so soft and warm. The vanilla of her perfume sinks into his senses.

“Thank you again.” She says as she pulls away “I really didn’t want to go alone.”

“Of course. I mean I’m glad to come along.”

“Last time I went to a show with Tash a guy asked us if we wanted to have a threesome with him.” She grimaces at the memory.

He doesn’t like the thought of either of them being subjected to that kind of talk. Noah’s sure that both women could take well enough care of themselves. Knowing that this shit probably also happens at his own shows makes him feel a little sick.

They head inside shortly afterwards. Bee elegantly steers him away from the bar. He gets it.

They find a little spot near the back of the place. There’s still an hour left before the show actually starts. Bee wraps him up in an easy conversation and for a moment he feels as if nothing had ever happened between them.

Bee had shifted to stand in front of him. His chest feels too tight with misplaced anticipation. He knows that nothing will happen. He’s lucky enough that she asked him and not someone else. But he can’t help but wish for something to come of the night. They talk until the house lights dim and Bee moves back to his side. The band is some kind of indie acoustic thing. It’s inoffensive, but Bee enjoys it so he bites his tongue and withholds his judgement. If he’s entirely honest with himself it’s not even that bad.

The band moves into a slower number and he feels Bee shift a little closer to him. He can feel her arm brush against his. Her skin is cool from the air-conditioning inside the venue. Noah feels her eyes on him, and when he meets her glance it almost knocks the air out of his lungs. The look on her face is so soft, so fond that his heart feels as if it’s trying to break out of his chest. She holds his glance for a moment too long. His breath comes staggered and too fast. It feels like the moment before a kiss. A kiss that never comes.

Her jaw is set like stone as she continues to watch the band, almost as if she’s forcing herself to look away. Noah wants her to look at him. He wants to feel the warmth that comes with her smile and it makes him feel sick to his stomach.

He’s sure that he’s been in love before, but it’s never been like this. Maybe it’s because he’s been thinking about it for too long, but he has to feel her hands on his body again, has to feel her lips everywhere. The feeling had long superseded the purely physical.

Noah can’t stop his hand from finding hers. She doesn’t stop him, doesn’t pull away when he curls his fingers around hers. Her hand feels so much smaller than his. The tips of her fingers briefly pulse against the back of his hand. It’s such a small and non-descript movement that no one else would notice it. But it burns into his mind, into his skin. He savours the feeling. There’s no knowing when he’ll get to be with her like this again.

When the show ends he’s still holding her hand. And Bee gives no indication that she wants it to stop either. Just once in a while, without any kind of regular rhythm, he feels her thumb drift over the back of his hand. He isn’t sure if it’s something she does consciously. It soothes the nervous energy in his belly nevertheless.

He walks her back home without question. If she can’t even go to a show without getting off-colour comments he doesn’t want her walking around town in the middle of the night.

The walk back to her building is quiet, with the exception of her excited recap of the night. It's endearing.

“Want to come up for a bit?” She asks when they reach her door.

He wants nothing more than that, but if he does he doesn’t know if he can stop himself from staying.

“I’d love to but I don’t know if I should Bee.”

She nods. The defeat on her face is glaringly obvious “O-okay. I just thought that we could talk.”

“Talk?”

“I just wanted to say that I could have been more forthright. I could have told you more about Ben without expecting you to ask all the questions yourself.” She wrings her hands together nervously “I don’t want you to think that I blame you for all of this.”

It’s so earnest that it stings in his chest.

“I don’t believe that…I mean I don’t believe that you blame me for it.” He reaches out for her hand “I’m glad to hear it though.”

She smiles at him “Thank you for coming with me tonight, Noah.”

“Thank you for asking me to come with you.”

He pulls her into a tight hug. Noah feels her head resting against his chest as she wraps her arms around him. The goddamn pounding in his chest finally stops, if only momentarily. Before he pulls away, he presses a kiss to the top of her head.

Like the love-drunk fool he is, he waits in front of her building until she opens the window in her kitchen to wave at him so that he knows she has made it up safely.

He waves back, of course. He doesn’t leave with the same tension in his back this time. She’s still in the window when he’s halfway down the road.

When he gets home, the lights in the living room are still on. The expectant faces turn to him as soon as the door closes. They’re like a fucking triumvirate holding council over his fate. Noah can practically feel questions pouring in. He tries to ignore them, pushes past them up the stairs before they can get a word out but he doesn’t miss their snickering. They’re not better than school girls, he thinks.

When his back finally hits the mattress and his mind quiets down a little, the loneliness that he’d been feeling for a good while now does not return. Usually, when he sits in silence it gnaws at his mind like a rat, but tonight it doesn’t come.

At this side, the screen of his phone flashes up. The notification covers the bottom of the picture on his lock screen. When he opens it he finds a message from Bee, a screenshot of her own lock screen showing the both of them a few weeks before she had initially left. He has his arms around her in a tight hug, both of them with big smiles on their faces.

They make a pretty couple .

As soon as the thought enters his head he tries to shake it away again. They’re not a couple. If he allows himself to sink into that delusion things will only get more complicated. And he wants to do this properly. Take his time with it.

She has a picture of them together set as the lock screen of her phone. The thought distracts him from his previous dilemma. Bee must have seen her picture on his phone at some point during the night, there was no other reason for her to send him that screenshot. He wondered for how long that picture had been on her phone. Had it been there since she’d left or was it a recent change? Either way, she had saved that picture for half a year. She’d kept it even after he’d been as awful as he had been.

Are you still up?

When the screen lights up it almost blinds him a little. Noah can almost picture her writing it, curled up in her bed with her puffy duvet wrapped around her body. He gives her a quick reply saying that he is still awake.

A moment later his phone rings. He picks up before the ringtone has time to loop.

“I was thinking about something.” She speaks without greeting.

“Go on.”

“I was- was this a date Noah?”

The question catches him off guard. Because all things considered he isn’t sure either.

“Do you want it to be a date?”

It gives her space to back out in case she just wanted to see how he felt about it — to let him down gently.

There’s a beat of silence on the other end of the line before she finally speaks up “I think so yes.”

The weight that falls off his shoulders is nearly immeasurable.

“Then it was a date.”

It’s such a small phrase but it changes everything. He hears her let out a sigh on her end “I really didn’t know if you…but I kept thinking about it and I just wanted to know.”

“I know.”

The silence is comfortable. Drifting in and out of conversations with her never had that awkward, uneasy feeling. He keeps his phone on speaker next to his head when he lays back down again. In the dark of his room, it almost feels as if she’s lying next to him.

“When did you take that picture?”

“Remember when we went to see that movie? The shit one Folio wanted to see? We came to pick you up and they were trying to book a table for after the movie and I went looking for you.”

The memory is so very clear in his mind. He’d long known that what he felt for her far superseded friendship, but this awfully mundane scene had settled it in his mind. He realised then that he wanted to come to her and that stupidly stubborn cat.

“I didn’t even notice you.” She says so softly.

“Because I’m so hard to miss.”

She lets out a laugh at his exasperated tone. Her laugh is quickly followed by what he assumes is her attempt at soothing Barn.

He likes this kind of normal they have. She’s his own private hideaway from all the madness that comes with the band. He likes it, there’s nothing he’d rather do, but some days it all becomes a little too overwhelming. And to have someone who is so far removed from it all to take his mind off it all is a true blessing.

The conversation fades in and out and in a way Noah regrets that he didn’t come up to her apartment. But he’s glad that they’re once again able to just talk like this. He stays on the line until she goes silent and he hears a soft little snore through the speaker. He leaves the call on for a little while longer before he ends it, in the hope that Bee doesn’t wake up from the sudden noise.

He stays up for a little longer. The song he’s been working on is finally reaching a point that feels complete. He hasn’t shown her any of the new songs. That moment is not necessarily something he looks forward to. With the exception of this one. This one is just for her ears.

#bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fanfic #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian fanfic #noah sebastian x ofc #fic: sweet like honey

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llamagoddessofficial · 1 year

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Could you please give more eldritch au headcannons? 🥺

Sans

The eldritch creatures don’t talk to each other much. They don’t need one another the way humans might need one another. Sometimes, they can go decades without speaking.

... Sans wants someone to talk to.

He likes talking to her. He likes it so much. He could talk to her for a thousand years and never tire- and believe him, he isn’t exaggerating. He knows precisely how long a thousand years is.

Occasionally, he reads her mind to have conversation topics he knows she’ll enjoy. He also occasionally reads her mind to find the best words to soothe her gnawing fears.

Well... okay, ‘occasionally’ is an understatement, he reads her mind all the time. It’s such a pretty mind, he really can’t resist diving into it. All those lovely lights and colours.

He’s desperate to actually be in her head. There’s a difference between reading a mind and touching it, and he’s obsessed with her every thought. But Mc asked him not to mess with her head, and he’s trying to be her friend, so he had no choice but to agree.

His advice about this strange, terrible world she’s found herself in is invaluable to her and her friends. Red would just prefer she let him protect her, but Sans actually gives her important information on how to kill/avoid/escape any number of threats, not to mention gather resources and stay warm. Despite his coldness, her friends quite like him because of this.

His ultimate aim is to figure out a way to ‘save’ her by finding a portal back to her home dimension. He would then follow her right through. This dimension has nothing left for him- he’s eager to see what delights await in her home.

Red

Red has thousands of little tricks that he uses to get her to instinctively like him without realising. When he’s got a ‘humanoid’ form he manually moves his chest fractions of an inch to simulate breathing, he ‘blinks’ his eyelights and ‘hums’ when thinking, he scratches the back of his neck as if he feels anything there. His personal favourite trick is how, if he lets off a little magic at the right temperature, it perfectly mimics body heat- he can see how she can’t help but move closer to him.

Of course, it’s a dangerous tightrope to walk. He puts a lot of effort into his humanoid act... when he does slip up and do something incredibly inhuman the impact is much bigger. Sometimes, big enough to scare her away from him for a decent amount of time.

... He’s gradually getting better at being faux humanoid, though. Reading her thoughts (despite the fact that he promised not to) on his act definitely helps. Sometimes it can be difficult, when her subconscious acts too fast for him to correct his behaviour... but he’s learning.

(He finds it cute how humans consider mind reading as something intruding, an invasion of privacy... as if all their thoughts aren’t just hanging out in the open like that.)

Her friends like him. He’s great at showing them good places to hide, set up camp, etc. He’s eager to show her that he’s the one she should trust and default to.

As much as he’d like to, he can’t stay around her camp forever. Eldritch beings need to feed, too, and he likes to hunt... he’d rather she didn’t see that.

There's a reason he knows the human body well enough to mimic it. Mc and her friends aren't the first humans to end up trapped here... he's killed a few lost souls, eager to know how their tiny, intricate little bodies work.

Of course, he'll never tell her that. No one needs to know.

Skull

He knows humans frighten easily. He used to revel in it, a cat revelling in a struggling bug pinned under its paw. But now, he just wishes she would stop hiding... just come out. Look at him. look at me.

... The first time they met, he had just killed a human he caught. She screamed a lot when she saw the mangled, torn up body. He thought maybe she wanted it fixed- but she kept screaming, even when he put the arms back on and offered her the ‘mended’ corpse.

He knows the other entities must be hiding her. There’s no other way she could disappear like that so often... it makes him angry, they get so much time with her, they should share.

Red and Sans aren’t... afraid of Skull, so to speak. They just know what he’s capable of, and aren’t keen on getting in his way.

At first, every time he found a human that isn’t her, he got angry and crushed it. But the sound of screaming reminded him that humans always get so upset when one of their own is killed. He doesn’t want her to get upset. Now, he just lets them go.

... He knows where the human camps are. He visits them during his searches for her, and his presence shuts everything down as everyone scrambles to hide before the massive red spotlight casts over them. If he knows she’s there, but just hiding from him, he gets noticeably angry when he leaves- one time, after waiting for an hour and seeing no sign of her leaving her hiding spot, he showed his frustration by dropping a dead animal into the middle of the camp.

It was a very large dead animal. A predator- probably the kind of animal she and her friends would usually have to run from.

... Just stop avoiding him.

Stop hiding

He only wa̶nts t̵o̵ p̷͔̓̒͝l̶̊a̸̔̌͗y̴̞̆̑̾͑

#llamagines #eldritch au #mc: AAAAAAAAAAAAA #skull: why are you screaming?? i put the head back on. it's all fixed. do you want the eyes back too? please stop screaming.

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littlethingwithfeathers · 1 month

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Stage Manager career advice

(some of this probably works for other paths too... especially #1) -Never ever turn down going out for a drink or coffee. You never know who will be there or what opportunities the person inviting you has up their sleeve. In the same vein, if you're out at a theatre social gathering and you're thinking of making an early night of it for whatever reason... stay around for one more drink (even if it's water). When the crowd starts to thin is when you usually strike social/professional gold, because that’s when the more intimate conversations happen.

-Always keep a set of stage blacks in your car, along with updated copies of your resume, and a set of nice interview clothes (just like... a polo, button up, or tunic dress top to throw on over your jeans/leggings). You never know when you might get asked to help in a pinch or marched into someone’s office for an interview on the spot.

-While we're on resumes, email yourself a copy of your resume and keep that email in your favorites folder so you can find it easily and email it to a potential employer should they ask for it. Make sure to keep it updated.

-Things to keep in your SM kit that you might not think of, but I never go without: granola bars, glucose tablets (even non-diabetics can have blood-sugar emergencies), a decent camera (it can be your phone), work gloves, rubber gloves, and kneepads.

-Go the extra mile when it comes to your crew and your actors. Learn how they take their coffee. Find out what their favorite candies are. Make sure there's a bottle of water on every musician's stand. Stage managers get an awful rap for being these unyielding emotionless deities on high, but it's easy to dispel that with little gestures and it buys you a certain amount of leeway to be curt without hurting feelings.

-I always give the same speech to my cast and crew about a week out from the beginning of tech. It goes like this: "The next couple of weeks are going to be hectic. If I answer a question or give you an instruction and sound quick or brusque, pretend that I said one of the following: Please. Thank you. You're welcome." Like the advice about water/candy/coffee, it buys you a certain amount of grace from your cast if you can’t be polite or watch your tone.

-Every job you do is the interview for your next job, sometimes in totally different arenas of arts management. A local theatre director may be at a concert you're managing. A local ballet director might have dancers in the musical you're calling. The director of a major arts council might spy you working electrics for your local stage hand union. You can never guess what's coming or who it will come from. Assume everyone might have or know of work for you someday.

-Do little jobs sometimes. Go usher for a theatre you don’t work for. Drop in to help with strike or build for a couple hours. You might even want to volunteer your time sometimes, especially if you’re new in town. It gets you into spaces so people meet you. This is especially true in a small town, and it goes along with my previous point. You never know where opportunities might come from, and you don't want to miss out. -A note about volunteering. It’s a dirty word among professionals... never do anything for free. BUT! When you’re starting out, again especially in a smaller town, volunteering is a great way to pick up skills. Go be a wrench monkey for a lighting designer. Go be a hand at build. Go to the costume shop. They’ll be THRILLED for the help and will absolutely teach you shit. So... it’s not for free. I’ve gotten a tremendous amount of value from volunteering because once they know what you can do, you can start leveraging them to pay you for things you already know how to do. Just remember... keep strong boundaries. Ask to be paid if you’re not being compensated another way... and exposure doesn’t count.

-Conversely, learn to say no when you need to, be it for something in a show, or for your own health. You're not everyone's friend and you're not everyone's savior.

Skills to learn: Learn to drive a stick shift. Learn to drive a moving van. Learn to read music (just passably... you don’t have to be Mozart). Take a dance class. Go be in the chorus for a play/musical if you’ve never been on stage before.

#stage management #theatre #theatre advice

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garretgentleman-art · 1 year

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I didn't agree! Prison or house arrest? Ha! I want both. Diego was in prison for about 1 year, I guess? Phoenix constantly annoyed the judge, but the decisive factor for the transfer to house arrest was that his client began to get colds and flus almost without interruption. Diego agreed to leave the prison only after he was convinced that Simon had adapted to life in it. Simon really adapted and even learned to communicate nicely with killers with the help of his knowledge in psychology, but the lack of a trustworthy person around influensed him. Although Simon says that his forelock have turned white due to the approaching date of the execution and Diego should not blame himself.

Headcanons:

- Diego is not actively suicidal, but he no longer has a sense of self-preservation. This is critical with his health: whether it be ignoring medication (as well as sleep and food), provoking dangerous prisoners, slandering himself in court, and so on. Phoenix sees the main threat in Diego, and not in violation of his rights. That's why Phoenix is so overprotective for Diego. Most of all, his lawyer is afraid that there will be another corpse on Diego, and then he will not be pulled out of depression, neither from a prison. -Well, the quality of prison medicine also worries him a lot. Phoenix floods the prison with Diego's medical notes and threats of lawsuits. Phoenix can't save Diego from the punishment cell, but he managed to save him from the electroshock bracelets. These things are forbidden to be used with Diego for health reasons. Why the hell are they even legal? - Diego refuses to talk to a therapist because he doesn't believe in it. But even if he believed, he would need: a) wish to get well b) wish to survive He does not have this. He can start recovery only for the sake of someone. At the moment, he has a mixture of guilt, duty and respect for Maya and Phoenix. This is not enough. The real healing will begin when he realizes that his life is no longer his alone. When he realizes that he is not as lonely as when he woke up from a coma. - Diego does not defend himself as a lawyer and does not notice the violation of his rights. Phoenix does. He gets information from Marshall or by indirect evidence. But when Diego sees that Phoenix needs a help, he gives juridical advice because he sees his enthusiasm. And then he regrets it. - Phoenix has never defended the rights of a prisoner before and does a lot of things out of curiosity. One day, Diego mentioned a draft in his cell and bad food in a conversation, and Phoenix filed an official complaint about this. - Maya writes letters to Diego. One day Diego refused visitors, and there were especially many of letters. Half of them were retellings of the Steel Samurai series. Simon says it's a form of passive aggression. Diego always reads them, but never answers. - Diego does not pay Phoenix for the services of a lawyer. He gives Maya pocket money, and she donates to Wright and co. Phoenix and Maya call Diego their VIP client. Diego doesn't agree with them, but he can't say no to them either. Maya hides behind a professional relationship, but in fact she already see Mia in him. She is outraged that Mr. Armando himself takes on the boring functions of an older brother, but still refuses metaphorical hugs! - Diego made enough money when he worked as a prosecutor. He can support Wright and Co. as long as they don't have clients, but his savings wouldn't be enough for a decent lawyer (although he doesn't need it). He still pays his old hospital bills, despite Mia and Grossberg's big initial contribution.

#ace attorney #diego armando #prosecutor godot #phoenix wright #my art #my aa art

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thestobingirlie · 8 months

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hi! i’m the anon who asked about your opinion on stancy and nancy’s selfishness a few days ago. thanks so much for your reply! i saw the tags your reblogged to that ask, and i actually wanted to add one something to the discussion.

i hope this doesn’t come across as trying to counter your answer. that’s not at all what i want to do. i actually completely agree that if nancy worked on some of here tendencies, stancy could be a pretty decent ship, and i also like the parallel of her presence wanting stve to be a beter person, and the opposite happening. i also agree that nancy’s relationships with other people have a lot of unexplored potential and that many of her issues are due to the writing.

i think the part where my opinion differs is because without the narrative supporting nancy, i have a hard time seeing stancy without steve’s anger, at least initially, about the way he was treated in their relationship. he knows nancy was using him, to an extent, when she called thier relationshp bullshit. she said they both murdered barb. steve may or may not know about the cheating, but he does know she got together with jonathan within a few days of their fight/break up, which would have raised some questions. and for me, i think this anger is as important as nancy’s grief over barb was, in that i can’t see stancy without it, in fandom or canon.

i guess robin is another example, although hostility, instead of anger, may be a better word. robin and nancy know each other as steve’s friend and steve’s ex. robn holds grudges; she was pissed at steve for eating a bagel wrong. it doesn’t make sense for her to follow around the girl who dumped him with starry eyes. i can’t really buy any of robin and nancy’s s4 friendship, because, for me, robin’s hostility should have been central to it. yes, nancy is a traumatized teen, but she's not the only traumatized teen the group.

again, i hope this doesn’t come across as me trying to counter your answer. i love your more positive takes on stancy, and i honestly think that having more positive views of characters can lead to a much better fandom experience.

i wanted to send this in more for discussion. i thought it was interesting how focusing on slightly different aspects of a character or their relationships (i.e. the potential for nancy and steve to grow vs focusing on steve's anger) could result in very different ideas on how we want their storyline to go. if you have any thoughts on this, i’d love to hear them!

thanks in advance :)

hey anon, that’s actually a really good point!!

i think when it comes to steve’s reaction to the break up at large (i’ll get into the cheating in a second), i can more forgive it than the way nancy’s actions are treated elsewhere because steve is just so totally in love with her. he can accept that he’s not the one she wants because he just wants her to be happy. which is why he steps aside. his love for nancy overrides any resentment he may feel.

i do however think as he gains distance from the relationship, he would kinda think… maybe i deserve better than that. maybe nancy shouldn’t have stuck by me if she thought we killed barb. maybe she should’ve just waited for jonathan. but i think with time and the two of them growing as people, this is totally something they can have a conversation about, and look back on more maturely etc.

but the cheating is slightly different. even if you only recognise it as more emotional cheating than physical, it’s still a major issue of steve’s. especially if the person cheating is someone he wants a long, serious relationship with. i don’t think steve would go nuclear like he did in s1, he’s grown a lot emotionally since then, and he cares a lot more for nancy, so i just don’t think he’d want to do that to her. but that doesn’t mean it wouldn’t affect him. at what point, and who he found out from would depend on how deeply he was wounded. i do think it’d probably make him take a step back, and reevaluate the relationship. and i think if it wasn’t nancy that told him, that could really have a bad impact on stancy. i kinda waver on whether i think nancy telling him in s2 vs s4 would be better. in s2 it’s a lot more raw, but at least he would know immediately. and in s4, he’s healed more from the relationship, but it’s been kept from him for so long.

but regardless (if it was one of better reveal options), i do ultimately think it’s something they could come back from. they’re young, and they’ve both made mistakes, and i think if nancy totally admitted she fucked up with the cheating, their relationship could recover. though i do think if we allowed steve to truly feel betrayed and angry, stancy wouldn’t be getting together anytime soon. at least until steve’s gotten over his mommy and daddy’s issues lmao.

and i think you’re totally right about robin too. it would make so much sense for her to hold a little grudge against nancy. for a couple reasons: 1. stancy shit. 2. nancy not knowing her at starcourt despite being in the same grade. 3. the barb shit (if we go by the books, which i wish we did!!!! makes them so much more interesting). i just think friction between robin and nancy could elicit so much growth for nancy. less so for robin i suppose, because i think a lot of her friendship with steve did that kind of work, but it would still have impact!

and don’t worry! i do really love discussions like these! focusing on characters in a more positive light is really enjoyable, but it can still be fun to pick apart the more fucked up things they’ve done. and i’m a hater at heart so ❤️ lmao

#nancy wheeler #steve harrington #robin buckley #stancy #stranger things #asks #anon

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cowb0yiikeme · 2 months

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My Issue with Persuasion Adaptations

Desperately hoping and pleading that an Austen fan takes matters into their own hands and writes a half decent Pesuasion adaptation.

To be fair I’ve only seen the 2007 adaptation (though from what I can tell 1995 is fairly similar) and the absolute joke that was the the 2022 “adaptation” but I’m not convinced that there is a version that accurately portrays the depth of emotions in the book. Here’s why:

1) The conflict in persuasion is largely internal and it’s hard to dramatize on screen.

We as the reader know how tormented and pained Anne is by seeing Captain Wentworth, but the nature of her character and her relationship with her family doesn’t lend its self to vocalizing her pain. This is hard to capture in a film because audience members are looking for hidden signs that Anne would never show outwardly.

To get around this the writer and producers would need to come up with a creative way of showing the audience what Anne’s thinking and feeling without compromising her character. I believe that there are ways to do this but they don’t follow the book.

You could…

-Invent a new character that Anne is comfortable sharing her thoughts to. Not a high profile character, but someone that exists as a place for Anne to vocalize her thoughts

-a “Dear Diary” approach where Anne can write out her thoughts so the audience knows them but the other characters don’t. You could also do this as a voice over of her inner monologue

-Have Anne vocalize her thoughts to existing characters. This would have to be done carefully to stay true to Anne’s character, but I think there are ways of having her give little hints of her thoughts to characters without revealing everything. Anne is level-headed and would never make a big show of pouring her heart out to a family that doesn’t understand her, but that doesn’t mean she can’t slip the audience some hints while talking to other characters.

2) Hollywood doesn’t understand feminism

This may be controversial and i am completely open to conversation but i think Hollywoods idea or feminism is completely backwards. Hollywood writers and producers have gotten it into their heads that the only way to write a strong female character is to create a character that is outspoken and witty and will openly rebel against the system and express themselves. This leads to modern takes on historical fiction where writers turn demure and complex female characters into Elizabeth Bennett-fleabag wannabes that don’t work within their story.

Anna Elliot is not Elizabeth Bennet. She isn’t impulsive or bold with her words and decisions, she is compassionate, even-tempered and incredibly self possessed. These themselves are strong character traits and don’t need to be transformed into something else to write a good character.

Hollywood would have us believe that the only way to modernize classic literature into more feminist takes is to reconstruct what they consider “weak” or subservient female characters into a Strong Independent Woman™️ completely losing the original character (written by a feminist woman) along the way.

Loud women ≠ Strong women!!!

Women are allowed to be quiet, and nurturing, and unsure of themselves at times. They are allowed to exist within the gendered spheres or history and not actively rebel against the system. What makes a story a feminist take is to acknowledge that these “soft” traits aren’t a weakness and that these women deserve to be respected and loved regardless because these traits and these women have value. The most compelling part of Anne and Wentworth’s love story is that he loves her for who she is, and is the one character that truly understands and respects her. Even when he is angry and resentful he holds a deep respect for her and I have yet to see an adaptation that respects and honours her like Wentworth does.

3) Where is the Drama??

Persuasion is different than Austens other works. It’s a story with mature characters and very real themes that people can relate to. The flip side of modern adaptations that destroy Anne’s character through the Girlbossification process, is the older adaptations that fixate on her level-headedness and lack the theatrics of a historical romance/drama. The “right person wrong time” trope is heartbreaking and dramatic and I don’t feel that in any of the adaptations I’ve seen. Persuasion isn’t a story about the recklessness of young love, it’s about the internal battle between love and practicality, and I have yet to see this portrayed as dramatically as it should be on screen.

SHOW ME the longing looks between them where they’re desperate to know what the other is thinking.

SHOW ME the Agony and Hope.

And for the love of all things good SHOW ME a P&P (2005) Mr. Darcy Handflex moment that I can think about 24/7!!!

I want to get the feels watching an adaptation the same way I get them when I read the book. The drama is part of the story and a good adaptation won’t let it be swept under the rug of Anne’s outward composure.

#persuasion #persuasion 1995 #persuasion 2007 #persuasion 2022 #jane austen #anne elliot #historical fiction #classic literature

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coupsie-daisies · 1 year

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Out of Step | Bang Chan

Pairing: Bang Chan x GN!Reader

Genre: hurt no comfort, angst

Summary: Sometimes people aren’t meant to be together, no matter how badly it hurts to think about it, and sometimes the one is really just someone.

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: Breakups, fights, broken hearts, Chan cries, kinda dismissive Chan

A/N: I apologize once again to those of you that like hurt no comfort (especially those of you on my taglist)...I’m just a sucker for pain. Might turn this into a multi-part thing if people like it and want to see what happens

Tags: @dragonofthenorth0726 // @wooyussy // @sunnytaes // @burningupp // @bunnypig18 // @ferrethyun // @tyungun // @brownieracha // @kwanisms

Masterlist

This fanfiction is property of @/hobi-is-golden, reposting on any platform without explicit permission is prohibited

"Why does it always feel like we're just out of step with each other?"

There had been a time when you'd wholeheartedly believed that you'd spend your life in Chan's arms. You'd fall asleep to the steady sound of his breathing, and you'd wake to his dimpled smile and his morning breath. There was a time when you'd sincerely believed that things would turn out to be a dream come true. Once upon a time, it was you and Chan against the world.

The saying 'if you love someone, you have to let them go' had never really made sense to you. If you loved someone, you fought tooth and nail to keep them close. You cried in the bathroom in the middle of the night so you wouldn't wake them from the only decent sleep they'd gotten in a week or more. If you loved someone, you broke yourself down to build them up when they needed it most, and if they didn't notice, that was okay. Once upon a time you could feel the light in your hands, but now it was pouring out through your fingers.

Falling in love with Chan had been almost too easy. He had the kindest heart of any man you'd ever met, and the intelligence to teach kindness to everyone he saw, in everything that he did. The day he asked you to go out with him was the best day of your relationship.

Like any relationship, yours had its ups and downs, only a few minor concerns at first. Every fight was resolved with an apology and a serious conversation, topped off with a make-up kiss. Nothing came between the two of you, neither of you would allow that to happen.

But everyone gets tired sometimes. Sometimes, when it's you against the world, sometimes you lose. Sometimes meals were left cold as you waited for him to come home from the studio. Sometimes you weren't priority number one. Or two. Sometimes neither was he.

You weren't entirely sure when things became irreparable. You didn't know when you'd reached the point of no return, where resentment began to cloud the love you'd grown comfortable in, but when the realization sunk in, you had fought harder than ever. You'd broken your own heart, trying to dig yourself out of the hole and bringing the dirt down on top of you instead.

"Is it really so bad to want a future with you?" You asked, begging him to listen to the desperation in your voice as you battled the truth in your own head. You threw your hands up in frustration. "I'm not trying to ruin your career, Christopher. I just want you to think about this."

"I can't do this right now," Chan sighed. That was always his answer nowadays, and it wasn't even really a lie. He saw it coming too, the inevitable end to the love the two of you had shared for nearly three years. You sighed. You really weren't trying to rush him into anything, but you were grasping at straws. Marriage seemed like a typical thing to discuss after being in a relationship for this long, it's not like you were asking him to propose tomorrow.

"I think you just don't want to be with me anymore," You snapped.

"Maybe I don't."

His words sucked the air out of your lungs. You both just stood there opposite one another. Just like that, all of the work you'd put into fixing the cracks, patching the holes, it all went up in smoke. Your entire world shifted. When you looked in his eyes, they didn't look any different. There was no big change, it wasn't as if you'd suddenly fallen out of love with each other. He just looked exhausted. You imagined you did too.

"You don't want to be with me?" You repeated back to him, utterly dumbfounded.

"I-" He looked away, tears welling in his eyes. And even despite the dagger he was digging into your stomach, you wanted nothing more than to reach up and touch his face, and tell him that everything was going to be okay. "Of course I want to be with you. I love you."

You looked at him again, trying not to get tripped up in the rubble of what you imagined to be your happily ever after. You'd never felt this cold and alone, especially not when you were with Chan. Your stomach was uneasy, and you were having trouble understanding him.

"But maybe we just...can't. Maybe we're just not ready. I'm sorry, but I think we need to be done."

And through the pain in your chest, you finally understood. There was growing left to do until you could fit your jagged pieces together with his. You two just didn't fit the mold.

For the first time, you truly understood what the saying meant, because you'd rather suffer a thousand years without him than be the reason he was crying like he was now, tears free falling down his cheeks, his breath coming out rough and desperate.

Every day after that became a little easier, the weight lifted off your chest, and your friends pampered you with days out to keep your mind off of things. But you still found yourself wondering from time to time. You wondered if he still got out of bed in the middle of the night to write down lyric ideas. You wondered if he still liked autumn evenings the best. You wondered if he had someone else to lay beside him now, or if he still thought about you the way you did him. And more than anything, when you felt especially alone in the world, you wondered if the two of you were more compatible now than you had been then. You wondered if he'd still kiss you awake, still write you silly little love songs. You wondered if he still held out hope like you did.

Or maybe, despite everything you'd shared, the two of you were destined to walk forever side by side and out of step.

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