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headtothecoast · 4 years

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hogwarts!geraskier au

geralt is a hufflepuff and jaskier is a slytherin if you think otherwise be prepared to catch these hands. and maybe a lute.

geralt's appearance is very much meant to intimidate and jaskier's is meant to sooth. however, the sorting hat doesn't care about that. it cares about intent. jaskier intends to get famous. geralt intends to help people.

so picture this,

muggleborn jaskier who realizes he can literally enchant people with his music and wants to become famous. pureblood geralt whose father vesemir separated from their family when he was younger but takes in children that are unwanted in some way, be it birth/magic/social status.

the two meet on the train. geralt is sitting alone in a cabin and he's quiet and angry as a kid because his family didn't want him and his brothers are off somewhere having fun but he isn't sure he wants to go to hogwarts because he would much rather be at home with roach. he was scared he wouldn't be good at this whole magic thing, eskel had told him that's why his parents didn't want him so he may as well show up, not get put in a house, and take the train home back to roach. that's the plan anyways.

at least until he hears a commotion in the hallway of the train and sees two 3rd years holding a 1st year with wants pointed at him and wicked smiles on their faces and it doesn't matter that geralt's never cast a spell he's seen eskel and lambert practice movements and vesemir perform this one often enough around especially vindictive parents that geralt casts such a strong protego he sends the 3rd years flying and the small 1st year is staring at him with the largest eyes he's ever seen and a split lip.

geralt intends to just walk away because the 3rd years don't look like they're coming back and geralt honestly can't believe it worked except the other 1st year sticks his hand out and introduces himself as jaskier the famous musician! and thanks geralt for helping him and well no he didn't exactly have it under control and my goodness what year are you in because none of the older kids really wanted to help me the sods but you're much nicer than them aren't you and i don't really know how i keep getting myself into those sorts of messes and what magic did you just perform there? i've never done magic before! didn't know it existed until my parents got a letter and they were more surprised than me i guess by golly you are tall mr. oh my goodness i am so sorry i didn't ask your name, what is your name?

and geralt has a headache as well as a better understanding for why those 3rd years wanted this kid out of their cabin but also it's less lonely in his cabin now that jaskier is sitting next to him jabbering away and fidgeting a little because of the silence and geralt almost forgets he was asked a question but tells jaskier his name and is rewarded with more conversation and praise and if jaskier rubs his wrists where the other kids had grabbed him then geralt ignores it and definitely doesn't hand him a chocolate frog when the trolley comes around and smile a little when jaskier's eyes nearly burst from his head when the frog leaps right out of the box and into his hand. and then jaskier's sad because he doesn't want to kill the frog and geraaalt isn't that mean, to eat a real frog and geralt doesn't even get to weigh in that it's a fake one before the prefects walk around and remind everyone to change into their robes.

so geralt and jaskier are sitting again except jaskier keeps going on about his robes and then looks speculatively at geralt and asks if he knows anything about hogwarts. geralt says he has older brothers and sisters that have attended and have been sorted into every house. when jaskier asks him about the house system geralt tells him everything his brothers had told him, albeit haltingly. gryffindor is for the brave, slytherin for the clever, ravenclaw for the smart and hufflepuff for the loyal. jaskier asks how the hat determines which one you are and geralt says it reads your mind, talks to you sort of, asks you what you want in life. jaskier says he wants to be a musician and asks geralt what he wants. geralt says he wants roach. jaskier laughs and geralt prepares to be made fun of but jaskier says that's a wild name and asks what roach is and that it's so cool geralt has a horse or a foal because she's so little and goes off for a little bit before seeing the castle in the distance and sobering long enough to ask geralt if he thinks there's a bad house to get put in because he heard one of the older kids talking about slytherins.

geralt thinks for a moment because his brothers and sisters had been in every house. there were slytherins, gryffindors, ravenclaws, and hufflepuffs all over kaher morhen during the holidays, so many he was sure they could hold class on the estate and hogwarts need not open its doors. he knows that gryffindors are usually loud and boisterous, that ravenclaws are dedicated and single-minded, that slytherins always have a goal, and that hufflepuffs can always be found next to one of them. he tells jaskier that none of the houses are bad, that each one is different and that whichever one jaskier gets put in would be lucky to have him. slytherin just means you know what you want and you're determined more than anything to do it.

and suddenly geralt has his arms full of jaskier who is laughing and thanking him and telling him that he hopes they're in the same house because who wouldn't want to be in the same house as their very best friend.

geralt's eyes go wide because except for his siblings, who don't count, he hasn't ever had a friend. and maybe from the look on jaskier's face of wide eyes and an unsure smile he thinks neither has he. so geralt just nods and says even if they're not in the same house, siblings get put in different places all the time so it's not like they wouldn't see each other.

and suddenly they're standing in a hall with long tables and high ceilings and a short stool in the middle of stone floors while the headmistress explains some updates that geralt and jaskier are too nervous to hear but then the sorting hat sings a song about unity and trust and geralt elbows jaskier as if to say i told you so and suddenly he's sitting on the stool and talking to a hat.

another rivia. how interesting. you remind me of your father. geralt sits up straighter at that. the one thing vesemir had always refused to tell them was his own hogwarts house. he didn't want to admit to favorites. yes i can see that you would like that, or that you think you would like to be like your adoptive father. interesting. and yet the boy you met on the train earlier - jaskier, now there's a talkative kid if you've ever met one. and geralt remains mostly silent while the hat deliberates, he doesn't know if he gets to say anything or weigh in on the decision. of course you get a say. what house do you prefer? and geralt draws a blank. he doesn't know. supposes he doesn't care but that's not right he does care he just, never saw himself getting this far really. expected he'd be back home with roach by now and not actually having to pick a house. so geralt asks the hat which one is your favorite and the hat is surprised. geralt thinks its laughing on his head and then so much like vesemir before the hat shouts HUFFLEPUFF

and there's clapping when he steps down from the stool and he goes to sit at the table except jaskier hugs him and is smiling and geralt smiles back and says good luck and then he's sitting by kids dressed in yellow and waiting for his friend to sit beneath a hat.

ah. a muggleborn. jaskier. geralt's friend. you have an interesting mind. though i'm sure you know that. surprised you aren't talking my flaps off right now actually given how much i saw you talk in geralt's head. ah well. let's see. you want to be a musician correct? at the question jaskier startles and peeps a yes, because the hat didn't sound like it was saying things outloud but just in his head and it was a strange feeling and jaskier wanted to ask geralt what the hat said to him except the hat asked him something else which he didn't quite catch but he heard the laughter and then - yes your thoughts are so fast it's hard to keep pace, and i can read minds. well, given their speed and determination i guess we'll go with SLYTHERIN - the hat shouts and then jaskier is being wisked off to a sea of green.

and when the headmistress looks out over the tables and finishes her welcoming speech she claps her hands and says alright now off with you, arranged seating is only for the sorting ceremony, sit where you like

and geralt barely gets out an oomf before jaskier slams into him talking a mile a minute and geralt just smiles to himself and listens.

*sorry, these are always longer than i mean them to be. they’re too long to feel like a headcannon and too short to be considered a fic.

**not sure how/when to add yennifer sorry, maybe she’s a year above them and no one can figure out which house she’s in since she stole an outfit of each color because i wouldn’t put it past her

#geralt of rivia #geralt x jaskier #jaskier #geraskier #hogwarts!geraskier #slytherin!jaskier #hufflepuff!geralt #the witcher #hogwarts au #vesemir #eskel #lambert

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firelxdykatara · 3 years

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As much as I think ZK made more narrative sense than Kat.aang & as much as I'm a die hard ZK, there are so many other Katara (and Zuko) ships that I adore as well & I really wish Kat.aang was one of them since it's actually canon, you know? And really, all they had to do was let them have a convo in the finale about him kissing her when she said she was confused. If that was addressed, I could lowkey ship them, but it wasn't, so I'm left feeling unsatisfied. My girl deserved better :/

You!!!! You get it!!!!!!

I’ve said it before, and I’ll happily say it again--while I don’t think I’d ever ship kataang over zutara (enemies-to-friends-to-lovers is just much more my speed, and while I do sometimes have childhood friends-to-lovers ships, there’s usually something Else about them that gives them that extra oomf [and usually aren’t contrasted so heavily against a ship that has more tropes i love within the same narrative] which kataang just doesn’t have for me, especially while zutara is Right There), I wouldn’t be as staunchly deadset against kataang as I am if it had just been written better. If Katara’d been allowed any agency at all--if her feelings ever mattered in the slightest to the development of their romantic relationship, but especially at key points like the EIP episode.

And what really kills me is, it wouldn’t have taken much???? Even if you argue that there was no room in EIP for that conversation (and they should have fucking made room, or else not have a scene where the main character explicitly ignores his crush’s consent and kisses her while insisting that she admit to feeling something for him and completely riding over her objections, because the fact that he never apologizes for this nor is expected to by the narrative is exactly the problem), there were so many moments throughout the show where they could have subtly hinted at Katara’s feelings changing and just.... chose not to.

In the Cave of Two Lovers, for example, they kissed, and Aang was the one awkwardly trying to prolong the moment and get Katara to talk about what happened--it’s clear that Aang felt something in that moment, and Katara’s response is.... to completely forget about it, because she’s so excited that the lights came up and they can find the way out. There’s zero indication that she felt anything during or after that kiss except relief at figuring out the cave’s riddle and being able to escape--but there is indication that Aang felt something, and read more into the kiss than ‘a way out’. There’s no reason Katara couldn’t have had a similar reaction, but she didn’t, and the show even focuses a bit on her lack of reaction because Aang is disappointed!

That’s one of the most egregious examples, but it happens again and again throughout the show. The Fortuneteller goes to great lengths to explicitly parallel Aang’s crush on Katara with Meng’s crush on Aang--except the message in the latter case is ‘if the boy you like doesn’t like you back, that’s ok, if you like him then you should want him to be happy, even if it’s not with you!’ and the message in the former case apparently is ‘if the girl you like doesn’t like you back, that’s ok, because she’ll come around eventually, and in the meantime here’s a fortuneteller to inform her that she’ll be marrying ‘a powerful bender’, which an out-of-place one-liner from her brother will make her connect with you because you’re the Avatar, and they always get the girls!’ And when Aang kisses Katara (without any indication that she wants him to, or that she has any romantic feelings for him at all, since he never bothers to ask her how she feels) prior to the eclipse invasion, rather than animating her looking happy and contemplative (which you’d expect of someone who’d just been kissed by their crush, for whom they’d been steadily developing romantic feelings over the past few months), they chose--deliberately, since the animator originally did have Katara smiling, but Bryke made him change it--to have her frowning and looking upset and unhappy, keeping her feelings in confusion and never going back to that and having her explain what she was feeling or even if she felt anything for Aang at all.

Katara’s feelings just aren’t important to the development of Kataang throughout the show, and the one time she actually gets to vocalize them, her words are ignored in favor of being kissed against her will, and this is never once addressed by the narrative as something that should not have happened. In fact, considering that the very next time they are alone together is in the epilogue when Katara goes to make out with him, the narrative states approval for Aang’s actions in that episode, and he is rewarded for them by Katara ‘coming around’ and deciding she did actually have romantic feelings for him, after all.

There was absolutely no need for their relationship to have unfolded that way. There were numerous times throughout the series when Aang could have given any indication of actually caring about Katara’s feelings (he never once asks what he should do if Katara doesn’t like him back, and he’s constantly told ‘she’ll come around’ and ‘being the Avatar doesn’t hurt with the ladies’; no one took him aside and said ‘look, Aang, if she doesn’t like you back, you need to respect that and let her go’--the closest anyone comes to this is the guru, and we all know how that went), or where the narrative could have focused on Katara’s romantic feelings. Her feelings got more focus in one episode with Jet than they got in sixty-one with Aang, and that’s just a terrible look for any relationship, nevermind one between two of the main characters in such a small ensemble cast!

I may never have shipped kataang with the passion i hold for zutara, but jfc, I could have at least enjoyed it--I could have been ok with it, if Katara’s feelings mattered at all, if she had even the slightest bit of agency. This is only exacerbated by what was done to her character post-canon, but ignoring that and focusing just on the show, I could have been ok with kataang if it weren’t ‘Aang overrides Katara’s feelings and objections and gets the girl anyway because Reasons’.

Katara deserved better than that, and the audience deserved better than that, and my opinion on this is never going to change--because my priority has always been, and will always be, Katara. It’s just a pity that the show’s, and Aang’s, never was.

#atla #katara #aang salt #kataang salt #just covering my bases #salt for ts #asked #Anonymous

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let-the-dream-begin · 4 years

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In My Daughter’s Eyes Chapter 20: Lightweight

Chapter 19

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“Go on, baby. Tell Aunt Claire she looks smokin’.”

“Yup. You’re real pretty, Aunt Claire.”

Claire fussed with her hair and pulled up the top of her dress for perhaps the millionth time since the Abernathy’s had arrived. They were standing in front of Claire’s full length mirror as Faith jumped on the bed in the background, completely nonplussed about her mother’s impending date. Gail brought over Lenny and Delia to watch Faith for the night so that her nighttime routine would not be disrupted if she fell asleep at the Abernathy’s.

Claire had agonized over what to wear for hours, having Facetimed Gillian for help after the woman threatened to kill her if she didn’t. She’d had a veritable screaming fit after Claire had told her the events of the Fourth of July party, demanding every single detail or else. Gillian had suggested all of Claire’s sluttiest outfits for tonight, which Claire had shot down immediately.

“I don’t want him to think I’m putting out!”

“Ye don’t?”

“No! It’s the first date!”

“Well, ye already used him to — ”

“No need to go any further.”

“Is it…modest enough?” Claire asked Gail, fussing with the neckline again.

It really was a pretty dress, her first post-Frank splurge purchase. At the time, it had felt silly, since the only occasion she’d had to dress that nice was for Oxford events, and that was something she no longer had to endure. But once it had arrived in the mail, she’d felt pretty putting it on, and she figured it did no harm to indulge herself in her newly divorced depression.

It was white and covered in large arrangements of sky-blue flowers, with desaturated leaves to accent the blue. It fell just below the knee in the front and mid-calf in the back. She’d been drawn to it for tonight immediately because the blue reminded her of Jamie’s eyes.

“Is that silly? Is he going to look at it and think I’m a nutter?”

“Ye are a nutter if ye think that’s what he’ll be thinking about when he sees ye.”

The V of the neckline went just down to her sternum, low enough to shut Gillian up about looking like a prude, but high enough that Claire didn’t feel like she was spilling out of the dress. The sleeves came halfway over the shoulder, just long enough to not be considered sleeveless.

“It’s perfect. Would you relax?” Gail squeezed her shoulders and gave her a little shake. “He’s gonna be in Heaven when he sees you.”

“The make up isn’t too much?”

This was perhaps the first time Claire had worn more than concealer under her eyes and mascara in almost two years, and even that much was only for special occasions. Tonight she donned eyeshadow, blush, and a neutral lip with the tiniest hint of pink.

“Not at all. You’re a regular angel. And besides.” Gail smirked. “I think you could show up in a trash bag and he’d still faint at the sight of you.”

Claire snorted. “I don’t know about that.”

“You’re leaving your hair, right?”

“Hmm? Oh, I was going to — ”

“Well don’t. It looks great the way it is.”

“It’s…a mess!” Claire ran her fingers through the poodle fur that was her hair.

“It’s you. He likes your hair.”

“And how do you know that?” Claire crossed her arms over her chest.

“You had it down at Faith’s party and he was all over it. With his eyes.”

Claire rolled her eyes, but couldn’t suppress a silly grin. A knock came from the front door, and Claire very suddenly felt like she would throw up. Before anyone could blink, Faith catapulted herself off the bed with a great leap and dashed to the door.

“Don’t forget your shoes, Aunt Claire.” Delia tugged on her arm before she could follow after Faith.

“Oh, thank you, darling.” Claire turned around and sat on the bed to tug on the white wedges she’d picked out.

“Can’t I just wear flats?”

“No! If ye refuse to go sexy wi’ the dress, ye have tae go somewhat sexy wi’ the shoes. I dinna make the rules.”

Gillian had better be right.

By the time Claire got to the front door, Faith was tugging on the locked door and moaning with impatient annoyance.

“Alright, alright. Take it easy, lovie.” Claire pried Faith’s hands off the door handle and held tightly to her wrist as she moved to open the front door.

He was right on time, five o’clock sharp.

Why was she so nervous? The man had seen her in all states of informality at the stables, messy hair, glasses, whatever clothes she had time to throw on after a shift. He’d seen her sweat through her scrubs as she blubbered like a baby. There was no reputation left for her to protect, no reason to need to impress him. He’d fallen for the blubbering mess in her scrubs, so why did one date make a difference?

Because now it’s real.

After months of pretending that she didn’t want to take his face in her hands and kiss him, pretending that she didn’t imagine what it would feel like in his arms, ignoring the fantasy she’d had of this exact moment, of getting dressed up and opening the door for him…it was real.

She opened the door and there he was, and she almost laughed.

He was wearing a shirt nearly the exact same color as the flowers on her dress, a shirt that paled in comparison to the blue of his eyes. It was tucked into perfectly pressed khakis, complete with a tan leather belt that matched his shoes.

“Hi,” Claire said, breathless, almost not even hearing Faith’s loud excited humming as she tugged against her mother’s grip to get to Jamie. He was smiling in that endearing, lopsided way of his, his pupils dilating further the longer he looked at her. “Uh, come in. Please.”

As soon as Jamie crossed the threshold, Faith began patting his thigh with her free hand. When Claire released her after Jamie shut the door, she began rubbing the material of his pants and swaying absently.

“The texture,” Claire said sheepishly. “It feels nice to her.”

“Glad to hear it,” he said, beaming down at her. “Spent long enough ironing them.”

“Hi,” Delia said abruptly, and Gail hushed her.

“Hallo.” Jamie waved at Gail and Delia. “Nice to see ye again.” Gail greeted him similarly, and then Jamie produced a bouquet of flowers that Claire hadn’t even noticed he’d been holding behind his back. White roses with forget-me-nots stuck in throughout, arranged perfectly.

“These are for you.”

Claire felt her blush deepen and her smile widen. “They’re beautiful, Jamie…” She took the arrangement in her arms and beamed up at him. “That’s why you wanted to know my favorite flower.”

He grinned and rubbed the back of his neck. “Thought that’d be pretty obvious.”

“I didn’t even think…” Perhaps it was because Frank had never bothered with such frivolities — insisting that his wife was far too practical for such things, but Claire hadn’t thought twice about Jamie’s out-of-the-blue text over the week. He’d sent her good morning and good night texts every day since last Saturday, and they even briefly chatted on the phone when Claire wasn’t dead on her feet after a shift.

Seeing each other at the stables had been awkward and not without lots of ribbing from every adult present, but they’d managed to keep it professional, save for Jamie’s suggestive, “See ye tomorrow, Sassenach.”

“They look bonny in yer arms, mo nighean donn.” Jamie’s eyes twinkled, and Claire nearly melted into the floor. “Ah, here.” Jamie plucked a rose out of the arrangement and gently pried Faith’s hands off of him. “Here ye are, lass.” He knelt down and presented her the rose, and Faith took it eagerly in her hands. “Jest fer you, since ye’re letting me borrow yer mam all night.”

Faith gave an excited little hop, and then skipped off with a hum into her room.

“She’s going to file that away somewhere,” Claire said as Jamie stood up. “I’ll, uh, put these in a vase…”

“Let me take care of that,” Gail said, taking the flowers from her. “Go get your purse and get going.” She winked.

Claire looked at Jamie sheepishly. “Right. One moment.”

After retrieving her purse, she called Faith back into the living room to say goodbye.

“Remember what we talked about. You will have quiet hands and quiet feet for Aunt Gail. And you will use your ears to listen, like you do for Mrs. Lickett when Mummy is at work. Yes?” Claire repeated the mantra, this time gripping her hands, touching her feet, and giving her ears a little pinch. “You’ll be a good girl. Won’t you, Faith?” Claire gave a thumbs up, which Faith returned. “That’s my girl. Okay, hugs.” They shared a brief hug, and Claire gave a squeeze with a dramatic little oomf sound effect.

Claire’s eyes flicked up to the bouquet in Gail’s arms, and then to Jamie.

“Just one more thing.” Claire crossed to Gail and plucked a forget-me-not out of the arrangement. She returned to Jamie and tucked it into his shirt pocket, keeping her eyes locked with his the whole time.

“There,” she said, slightly breathless. “Now we’re ready.”

Jamie ushered Claire out the front door with his hand at the small of her back, as Gail encouraged Faith to “say bye-bye!” until the door was shut. The second the door clicked, Jamie’s hands were on her face, his lips claiming hers hungrily. She eagerly kissed him back, one hand playing with the flower in his shirt, and the other squeezing his shoulder.

“Christ,” Jamie breathed when he pulled away. “Ye look…beautiful, Claire.”

She laughed softly, peering up at him through her lashes. “You’re as dashing as ever.”

He gave her another soft peck and then swept his eyes over her face, as if drinking her in.

“And what was this for?” His fingers laced with hers atop the flowers in his shirt, and Claire felt herself blush.

“I wanted to be able to look at them while they were still perfectly fresh,” she said, biting her lip as she smiled up at him. “And your eyes are forget-me-not blue, after all.”

He raised a brow in a devilishly handsome way. “Are they now?”

“Mhmm.” She leaned in to kiss him again, and then broke away with a giggle. “We said goodbye five minutes ago and we’re still standing on the porch.”

He chuckled softly, then took her hand in his. “Shall we, then?”

They descended the steps together and made their way to Jamie’s car, parked on the street since Gail’s was in the spot behind Claire’s. Before Claire could even think about opening her own door, Jamie was in front of her, doing it for her. She blushed deeply as she got in, feeling his eyes on her all the while. He slid into the driver’s seat beside her and he paused, eyes settling on her as she looked up from buckling her seatbelt.

“What?”

He shook his head. “Nothin’. Just…seein’ ye there, sitting in my car, waiting for me to take ye on a date…” He bit his lip, and it sent Claire’s mind spinning. “It’s incredible, is all.”

Claire self-consciously pushed some hair out of her face, blush deepening. “Are you trying to make me melt into the seat before we even pull away?”

He chuckled as he put the car in drive. “Wouldna be very intuitive, but I wouldna mind all the same.”

She rolled her eyes, and then became lost in the way the late-afternoon summer sunset danced in his auburn hair. Not wanting to be caught staring, she took a breath and then broke the small silence.

“What did Jessica say? About yesterday?”

“Ah,” Jamie said, smiling. “She said she’s more than happy to take over for such a ‘cutie-pie,’ I believe was the term she used.” Claire beamed with pride, knowing full well that her daughter was indeed an adorable child.

“Does she think that Faith will be okay? With the switch?”

“Oh, aye. She has full confidence in the lass.” He moved one of his hands off the steering wheel to take hold of Claire’s hand. “As do I.”

Claire watched as he brought their joined hands to his lips to kiss her knuckles, never once taking his eyes off the road.

Jamie and Toni had been coming up with a plan to transition Faith to a new main therapist over the course of the week, and Jamie had been keeping Claire updated over the phone or over text. Miss Jessica was available during Faith’s scheduled hour, and she was always at the events the stables hosted, so Faith was at least familiar and comfortable with her.

It was to be a slow, gradual process. The switch could not be too fast or jarring. Faith could not feel that Jamie was abandoning her at the stables, but she also could not get too comfortable with him. The longer she perceived him as part of the family, the more of a risk they were taking with her behavior at the stables. Children always behave better for non-family members, and autistic children — and especially Faith — were no exception.

And the truth was, Jamie had been family for far longer than either of them cared to admit.

The goal was to eventually have Jessica be Faith’s full-time therapist, with Erica staying on as the volunteer for stability and consistency. Jamie would be there, of course, but the endgame goal was for him to stand outside the fence with Claire and watch. They'd agreed, along with Toni, that even having him working with another child in the riding hall at the same time would not be fair to her; Faith should feel like Jamie was still completely invested in her time with Pippi, even if he could not be the one holding the reins.

They passed the rest of the drive in relative silence, their hands linked, Jamie occasionally brushing his thumb across her knuckles. Occasionally, Jamie would remark on some local place they passed that he wanted to take her to eventually — “if ye’d allow it,” he would add nervously. They passed a lively carnival in a mall parking lot, and Claire smiled wistfully.

“Have you ever been there?” she asked.

“Nah, no’ that one in particular. Been to traveling carnivals as a bairn in Scotland, but I never went once I moved here. I always wanted to take Jenny’s bairns, but the timing never worked out.”

“I only have once. Faith was still a baby, only two. You might have seen the picture on the carousel in the living room.”

“Aye, I remember it.”

Claire smiled warmly at the thought of Jamie not only noticing, but remembering the photographs on display in her home.

“I might have also gone with my parents but that would have been too long ago to remember. And I’ve been too afraid to take Faith anywhere like that since her diagnosis.”

Jamie was silent, the carnival disappearing from view.

Damnit, Beauchamp. Dead parents are not very good first-date talk.

“Ye were young, then? When ye lost them?”

His voice was gentle, yet trying to stay casual.

“Yes, only five.” She forced a tight-lipped smile. “Car crash.”

Jamie exhaled heavily and squeezed her hand. “I’m…so sorry, Claire.”

“Thanks…it’s…it’s okay. I had a good childhood with my uncle. I hardly remember what it was like to lose them. Which…could be sad depending how you look at it.”

He brought her knuckles to his lips again, kissing there fervently.

“I’m glad ye had love from yer uncle, mo nighean donn. Dinna ken if I could bear to know ye lost them only to be raised in loneliness.”

Their hands returned to rest in the space between the seats.

“Sorry,” Claire said.

“Fer what, Sassenach?”

“Bringing the mood down.” She looked down at her lap sheepishly.

“Hey.”

His voice and the squeeze of her hand brought her gaze back up, and he was staring at her, stopped at a light.

“Ye’ve nothing to be sorry for. At all.”

She offered a tiny smile, then brought their hands to her own lips so she could kiss his hand. “Thank you.”

The rest of the drive was not long at all, and soon they were pulling up to a building Claire hadn’t seen before, lined with trees strung up with lights. After they were parked, Claire unbuckled and almost opened her door as a reflex, but she stopped, not wanting to deflate Jamie’s chivalrousness. She grinned at him as he opened the door and took her hand.

“Such a gentleman,” she teased, leaning into him and linking their arms together.

“Well, I try,” he said, pressing a kiss to her temple.

Giggling slightly, Claire allowed Jamie to lead her inside; of course, he released her to open the door for her. It was dark inside, save the dim chandeliers dangling from the cathedral ceiling. Claire gawked at their elegant surroundings as Jamie checked in with the reservation for “James.” She ran a self-conscious hand through her wild hair that had been tossed about by just a few seconds outside. She observed the other women sitting down with their dates or small groups, hair elegantly pinned up in its entirety or at least halfway, and Claire suddenly felt like a slob with her wild mane frizzing freely.

The hostess led them to a candlelit table in a beautiful dining room, and her first thought was that she was not worth all this. Her second thought was that she hadn’t been somewhere remotely like this since the last Oxford event Frank had dragged her to, and she’d felt like she was under a microscope at every single one of those. Every other professor’s wife always looked like they had a thing or two to say about her appearance, and she always felt like fresh meat to Frank’s male friends.

She forced herself to focus on now, however, and reminded herself that she was here with a man that thought she was beautiful, a man that did think she was worth all this. A man who would not ask her every five minutes to pull up her dress and cover herself up, dammit.

He didn’t choose this place so you could start thinking about your shitty ex-husband, Beauchamp. He couldn’t possibly know.

Jamie held out her chair for her, and her heart calmed itself as she allowed herself to find peace in his eyes.

“Jamie…this place is just beautiful.” She giggled again as he pushed in the chair for her. “I feel like royalty.”

“Good.” He said, grinning as he sat down across from her.

A waiter came and took their drink orders, and Claire felt her pulse increase. She didn’t have a clue what to get. She knew she wanted wine, but the list was far too extensive. She felt like she was eighteen again, freshly legal and clueless on how to order a drink. Jamie confidently ordered “two fingers of Lagavulin, neat,” and Claire stammered for several seconds before blurting something out that she didn’t even remember after she said it.

The waiter left, and Claire smiled sheepishly at Jamie, feeling quite silly for nearly causing a scene over the drink menu. She took the dinner menu in her hands to start perusing. It was an enormous menu, and an expensive menu. She had to fight the urge to tell Jamie that he didn’t need to be so extravagant for her sake. It was endlessly endearing to her, but she also couldn’t help the pangs of guilt knowing the size of the bill he was going to be met with at the end of the night.

As she continued to become overwhelmed by the menu, Jamie’s hand was suddenly touching her elbow on the table, and she peered up at him. She could tell he was smiling just from his eyes, and she returned it. His hand crept up her arm until he was grasping her hand, pulling it off the menu and settling their joined hands in the center of the table, beside the candle.

In the past, Claire was one to gag at those stereotypical couples playing footsie, holding hands, and getting lost in each other’s eyes. In fact, she and Frank used to openly mock couples like that. They’d taken some sort of pride as a couple that they never looked like that in public.

Yet, here she was, clasping hands with a man at the dinner table, occasionally brushing her leg — crossed over the other — against his, and unable to stop staring, the menu going largely ignored by both parties.

And not only did she not give a damn how she looked, she was enjoying it.

The waiter came back to take their appetizer orders, and neither of them had read more than two words of the menu. They sent him away, laughing at themselves as he went.

“How will this ever work if I can’t get anything done with you around?” Claire teased, smirking at him.

“I think I could survive on the sight of you alone, Sassenach.”

A chill ran down Claire’s spine.

They decided to get a shared appetizer of fried artichoke hearts, something Claire hadn’t been able to get her hands on in ages.

“Are they good here, do you know?” Claire asked after they placed the order.

“No’ sure. Never been here.”

“Really?”

“It came highly recommended,” Jamie assured her, nervousness flashing over his face temporarily. “Just never had a lass worthy of such attentions before.”

Claire rolled her eyes. “I’m not sure I’m worthy of all…this. I don’t think I’ve ever eaten somewhere so exquisite in my life.”

“D’ye like it, then?”

“Of course, Jamie.” Claire squeezed his hand. “Like I said, it’s…more than I even deserve.”

“Ye deserve the world, mo ghraidh.” He kissed her hand, and she blushed deeply.

Her eyes darted over his face and around the table, unsure how to respond to his reverent proclamation.

“What sort of music do you like?” she said abruptly, and then immediately wanted to kick herself.

“Playing twenty questions, are we?” he teased, resting their hands on the table again.

“I suppose.” She rolled her eyes upward, in admonishment of herself. “Had to come up with something to say. I’m not a walking poetry collection like you are.”

Jamie exhaled a breathy laugh and then rolled his eyes upward as well, shaking his head with a smirk.

“Well, I’m a fan of country music, actually.”

“So you really are a cowboy,” Claire said, grinning widely.

“Och.” Jamie waved her off as if in annoyance, but she could see the glimmer in his eye. “Aye, I suppose ye could say that. Always loved John Denver, he was my Ma’s favorite. Mine too. Blake Shelton, Luke Bryan, Keith Urban, all those, ye ken.”

Claire hummed in fascination, then cocked a teasing eyebrow. “Not a fan of female country singers, then?”

“Ye cut me to the quick, lass! Ye think I didna grow up wi’ Reba, wi’ a woman like my mother running the house?” Claire laughed out loud, picturing a little redheaded boy dancing in the kitchen to Reba with his mother, as Claire did with Faith to Disney music. “Aye, she’s a right legend. But then there’s Miranda Lambert, Faith Hill, Martina McBride…”

“Alright, I approve,” Claire said smugly. “Anything besides country?”

“Billy Joel fer one. And Manilow. Both Long Island natives.”

“If memory serves, I believe Barry Manilow is from Brooklyn.”

“Och, close enough,” he said.

“Hardly,” she teased right back. “How about Elton John?”

“Well, of course.”

“He was always one of my favorites,” Claire said. “I do like country, too. Just not my favorite.”

“And what would that be, then?”

“I adore Ed Sheeran and Michael Bublé. And that style in general. Smooth like old jazz, but has a contemporary twist.”

“What, Sassenach, no female singers?” He cocked an eyebrow at her, his eyes glistening with mirth.

“Oh, you…” She playfully swatted his forearm, but couldn’t suppress her grin. She then blushed, looking over her shoulder self-consciously, wondering if she should be hitting her date in a place like this. “If you must know…as a teenager, I…well…I was known to listen to Brittney on occasion.”

“Aha! Ye were a nineties pop-band lass.” He grinned triumphantly. “And ye still are, I’d wager.”

Claire rolled her eyes and bit her lip, chuckling through her nose.

“Ye are! Ye’re no’ denying it!”

“Alright, alright, don’t rouse the entire fancy restaurant,” Claire swatted at him and flitted her eyes around them again, and Jamie began visibly trying to restrain his laughter.

“I’m sorry, it’s really no’ that funny, but jest…you, yer proper English-doctor-self, listening to Brittney in the car…” He wiped away tears of laughter with one hand, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It tickles me, is all.”

“I can see that,” she said through her own laughter, looking around yet again. She felt like a child that was far too young to be taken somewhere like this but didn’t have any say in the matter, and had no idea how to behave. There was something about this man that made her want to throw her head back and laugh at the moon, and something else about him that made it impossible to stop herself despite their surroundings.

They finally ceased howling at themselves, and Jamie spoke again. “I’m surprised Disney music wasna the first thing ye said.”

Claire chuckled. “Right. Well, I suppose I thought that went without saying. I do love it, more so now than I even did as a child. Faith really…brings out that side of you. The child in you. I’m not sure if it’s like that with every child, or because she’s, well…her.”

“Aye, I suppose any bairn has that effect on ye. But ye’re right. Faith is…special in that way.” He ran his thumb over her knuckles, back and forth, his eyes twinkling as he spoke so fondly of Faith.

Claire almost burst into tears.

“You know, it…” She cleared her throat to keep herself together, leaning closer to him. “It really means more than I can ever say that you…that she…”

“I ken, Sassenach.” He squeezed her hand again.

“I just…I couldn’t be with someone who didn’t.…know her. So deeply. I really couldn’t,” she went on. “I couldn’t just…meet a man and tell him I’m a single mom and wait on pins and needles for the day I introduce him to my kid, and then he doesn’t understand what he’s really in for no matter how much I tried to explain…” She sighed, trying to calm herself.

No need to get worked up over an imaginary scenario. Her reality was infinitely more wonderful than all that.

“I couldn’t just…see someone. With us, you’re really seeing…both of us. And I couldn’t have it any other way. I don’t even know where I’m going with this. I’m just…grateful, I suppose.” She looked into his eyes, her own eyes watering. “Really, really grateful.”

“Aye. Me too, Sassenach.”

She leaned across the table to kiss him gently, onlookers be damned. In that kiss, and in the lingering gaze afterward, Claire gave him every word and phrase that she would just stumble through if she tried to say them aloud. Looking into his eyes, without speaking, she said:

Thank you.

The fried artichoke hearts arrived shortly after, and Claire dug in greedily. They were very good; she honestly could have eaten the entire platter herself and then some. Jamie seemed entirely too amused by her enjoyment of the food, but she was too delighted herself to care.

When they were gone — much too quickly for Claire’s liking, Jamie once again took up the menu, and Claire followed suit.

“Have any ideas what ye want?”

Claire flicked her eyes to him and she exhaled with a soft laugh. “I…have no idea, actually. There’s too much on this bloody menu.”

He chuckled. “Aye, I’d have tae agree wi’ ye there.”

“I mean…even the number of categories…it’s almost overwhelming.” She punctuated her sentence with a laugh, not wanting him to think she was complaining or ungrateful.

But she was overwhelmed.

“And it’s…” She bit her lip before she could continue, but of course he noticed.

“What, Sassenach?” Jamie put down his menu and met her eye.

“Nothing, really.”

He cocked an eyebrow, and Claire wanted to kick herself again.

“It’s…very expensive.” Her face felt hot as the words tumbled from her lips.

“Ye dinna think ye’re paying, do ye?” Jamie said incredulously.

“Well, I was going to offer, of course…but either way…I can’t ask you to pay this much for me to eat. It’s completely unfair.” She put her menu down as well and looked at him sheepishly.

“Claire, I wouldna take ye somewhere I canna afford.”

“I know! That’s not what I mean,” she said quickly. “Christ, can my foot get any deeper in my mouth?” She buried her face in her hands, but only briefly, as Jamie was prying them away before she could even lean on them.

“Claire.”

The way he said her name forced her to meet his eye, and she almost melted at the way he was looking at her.

“D’ye want tae leave?”

She blinked dumbly before vehemently shaking her head. “No! Jamie — ”

“I meant d’ye ye want tae leave with me,” he clarified, his lips twitching upward. She blinked at him again, and he leaned forward. “Ye dinna seem comfortable here, mo nighean donn. I can see ye looking over yer shoulder like ye’re about to be scolded by a schoolteacher. I thought to impress ye wi’ finery and such…but it seems foolish now.”

“No, Jamie, really…” Claire sighed, her heart almost breaking for him. “This place is beautiful. And those honest to god were the best fried artichoke hearts I’ve ever had. And the wine is delicious.”

“But look at us, aye? Hanging on each other and guffawing like bairns.” His smile widened, and Claire couldn’t help but grin as well. “I think we’d fit in better elsewhere.”

Claire’s brow furrowed. “Like where?”

Jamie’s grin broke as wide as possible, his teeth flashing brilliantly at her. “A carnival.”

Claire’s teeth broke free of her tight-lipped smile as well, and she laughed out loud. “Are you serious?”

“Serious as the plague.”

She laughed again, shaking her head. “So we just…leave?”

“Well, I was thinking we’d pay first.”

Claire rolled her eyes, but her smile widened. “That’s not what I meant…”

“Finish yer wine, lass. I’ll get the check and then we can go.”

She blinked at him in disbelief, her heart fluttering. Frank had never, ever picked up on her discomfort at those uppity events in the eight years they’d been together, and Jamie had done so on their first date. Frank had never offered any sort of reprieve from the onslaught of formality. Claire had always been good at pretending for appearance’s sake; but how difficult was it really to play the professor’s pretty wife, eye candy and arm decoration? After Faith was born, Claire used to rush home from said events and play with her and babble senselessly to her until the poor little thing could no longer keep her eyes open just to feel some semblance of herself again.

She could not imagine Frank ever even thinking of taking her somewhere considered so juvenile and silly as a carnival. Somewhere she could laugh her head off, even scream, and not have anyone eye her like she didn’t belong there. She realized at once that Faith was not the only person that made her connect with her inner child. Jamie had been doing it all night, poking fun at her, pushing all the right buttons to make her walls come down, struggling to keep his voice to a reasonable volume in a fancy restaurant, snickering at her across the table.

Like bairns, indeed.

And she loved it.

Claire did as he said, releasing his hands so she could take a few long drags of her wine.

“You’re alright to drive?” she said, watching as he took a final sip of his whisky.

“One drink isna enough to inebriate me, Sassenach. I’m no lightweight.” He winked.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were calling me a lightweight,” she challenged.

Jamie just shrugged, smirked at her, and then called over a passing waiter to ask for the check.

Blood rushed to Claire’s ears, and she felt her head swimming as Jamie turned away from the waiter and settled his smoldering gaze on her again.

Well, I’m either a lightweight…or this man has me under some sort of spell.

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cloudykaii · 4 years

Text

Care

pairing: bts x eighth member!reader [platonic]

summary: omg i just real some of your eight member scenarios and eveerything was so good!! i wasnt into eight member things before but now.. im super in! 😭 can you do a scenario about compilation of the members little caring act on stage, backstage, when theres camera or not, something like that to the eight members?? if you make it then i would be so delighted. than you !!

warnings: none, it’s just really fluff :( some of it might not make sense, but i really love this

A lot of things could be said about your brothers. Each and every one of them had their moments and mistakes, just like you did. Some people would call them rude, or selfish amongst other things, but the one thing they could never say, is that they didn’t care about you. ARMY pointed it out all the time; they even had compilations of moments the eight of you cared for each other, but your favorite were the ones titled things like: “six minutes of proof that bts’ world revolves around y/n.”

Jin jumped as your head fell against his bicep. You were at an afterparty for an awards show the eight of you had been asked to present at. The music wasn’t too loud- you used to joke that it was because everyone knew rich people liked to brag. You had no idea where the rest of your brothers were but you and Jin had been perched on the oddly comfortable sofa as he socialized. He could feel your hairpins digging into his shoulder.

“Y/N, are you okay?” You didn’t answer and he moved slightly so that he could reach across and tap your arm, but you moved with him. He felt your even breathing and sighed. You still had around two hours left before they could leave.

One of the girls he had been talking to chuckled as you gave a tiny shiver in your sleep. “She must be tired.”

He smiled at her before slipping off his blazer to cover you with it. “She works hard, sometimes I think she works harder than the rest of us,” he chuckled, pulling you closer so that he could make sure she was comfortable.

No one knows how a fan account had that video trending on twitter under the hashtag #BabyY/N three days later.

✦✧✦✧

One bad thing about being the only girl in an idol group, is that sometimes you get the least amount of consideration. Not because they didn’t respect you or anything like that, it’s just that after styling for seven boys, you think sometimes the staff tends to forget you are not a guy, or maybe they had never seen a girl in real life.

Or at least that’s what the short dress you were wearing had you feeling like. It’s not like it wasn’t pretty, a black skirt and connected by a thin, white lacy strip that wrapped around your abdomen. It was gorgeous, and the silky ribbon of a choker around your neck made it look even better, but it was just.. so short.

You powered through like a trooper, despite the fear in the back of your mind that you were flashing the entire audience while you danced. The minute the song stopped and everyone moved to get a drink of water, Yoongi was taking his jacket off and tying it around your waist.

Not speaking into the mic, you let him do as he wanted but asked, “Are you even allowed to do that? Won’t the stylist say something about how you ruined her outfit?”

Tightening the knot of material, he rolled his eyes. “Honestly, I don’t give a fuck what the stylist has to say right now. Not only is your outfit not okay, but it’s obviously making you uncomfortable. You can wear this until the next outfit change.”

“Thank you,” you hugged him briefly, glad he had your back.

✦✧✦✧

There was a time where you guys were recording a live during a long break while at practice. Fans talked about it for ages afterwards. Taehyung sat against one of the mirrors, holding his phone, while Jimin was in the picture beside him.

“Basically, that’s it. We haven’t really-”

“Y/N, stop running around, you’re going to hurt yourself!” Jimin’s voice cut in, making the other man look over.

“What is she doing?”

Jimin huffed, “I have no idea, but she’s going to- Y/N, at least t- no actually come here, I’ll do it for you.”

And when you bounced into the view of the camera, only for all the fans to see Jimin pulling your foot to him so he could tie your shoe. “Be careful this time, even if you’re playing tag.”

✦✧✦✧

Jeongguk laughed at the camera, the comments being ridiculous. He was doing a live, answering questions about the embarrassing moments he chose to talk about. “No, it was funny! He fell, but then he tried to play it off by doing pushups, but he feel while trying to do that, so-”

He heard the door open in the background, and the camera saw him turn to the side just before he let out an “oomf.” The side profile of your face was visible to the viewers as you moved to curl against him on the bed. You rubbed your eyes sleepily, and he frowned. “It’s really late, you’re supposed to be asleep.”

You mumbled, “I was, but then I got scared and woke up. I didn’t want to be alone.” He pouted at that. You tended to have nightmares whenever you were stressed, and since he was the one who found out about them first, he was usually the person you ran to.

“Do you wanna sleep in here?” He asked softly. Everyone tuned in could hear everything, but your brother barely remembered that he was even recording as he fussed over you. You nodded, already drifting off on his shoulder. He smiled down at you before turning back to the camera. He read the many comments of everyone cooing over you. “Yeah, she’s alright. I’ll tell her to tell you guys herself tomorrow. Anyways..”

✦✧✦✧

Of course, there were incidents that were more serious.

The sun was setting, which made the perfect picture for the shoot you guys were about to do. The rooftop everyone was on was beautiful and stone, the kind of background you saw in movies. The sun seemed to glitter, and the wind made everything sway until the lake’s seemingly glittering waves caught your eye. “Whoa,” you gasped, moving closer to get a look.

“Y/N-”

You waved off Taehyung’s warning. “I’ll be careful! I just want to get a closer look!” You walked back over to the edge, admiring the way the sun sparkled on the water. You subconsciously leaned closer, moving your body a little too far against the thin railing, but before you could topple over, a hand grabbed the back of your jacket with a tight grip, yanking you back until you were a good distance away from the railing.

Your back hit someone else’s and you recognized Taehyung as you turned to see him. He stared down at you. “I said be careful!”

“I’m sorry,” you said a little shakily. Taehyung sighed before pulling you back into a hug. “Having a little sister is so hard, you’re not leaving my sight for the rest of the day.”

✦✧✦✧

Another moment fans loved to talk about actually happened at a fansign. You smiled brightly as the next fan came up to you, following the line. “Hello!” you greeted happily.

Something about this girl threw you off though, and the look in her eyes had you unintentionally leaning away from her. You couldn’t decipher it, but when nothing happened, you told yourself you were just overthinking it. She was probably just excited to meet what could have been her favorite artist group, right?

You stood by Hoseok as the fansign ended, moving to follow him out of then venue. He chuckled as he looked at you. “You have that look.”

You wrinkled your nose. “What look?”

“The one that says you’re hungry,” he teased, poking you in the stomach, making you whine. “Well, maybe-”

“Y/N!” You turned around, cutting yourself off mid sentence, to see the fan from earlier. “I found you.” Her smile was a little too bright as she reached for you, only for Hoseok to push you behind him as you stuttered out, “I’m sorry, we really have to go.”

You moved to attempt to leave after that, but her demeanor quickly changed. Her face changed from too happy and delighted, to dark and angry. Her eyes narrowed, and she reached for you more aggressively this time. “Don’t be son ungrateful,” she squeezed your wrist painfully and you cried out as security finally made their way over.

Hoseok immediately pulled you to him, looking at the rapidly forming bruise on your wrist. Even though at the moment, it was just a large red mark, his face still tightened. “This never should have happened,” he cursed when he noticed tears in your eyes.

He pulled you into a hug as he waited for the rest of your brothers to show up. “It won’t happen again,” he promised you.

✦✧✦✧

The moment that was probably the most talked about, was when a talk show host felt the need to ask you how it felt. Namjoon shared a glance with you.

“Excuse me?” you asked timidly, straightening up.

The interviewer turned to you. “Oh, you speak English! I was just asking how it felt to be so similar to a child all the time.” The man’s tone of voice didn’t even change, but the idea that he had expected Namjoon to translate this to you, and now casually asked you as if there was nothing wrong with the question. “You know, they’re always taking care of you, it makes it seem like you can’t do anything by yourself. Does it ever irritate you?”

You tried laughing it off, the chuckle leaving your lips as you ticked a strand of hair behind your ear awkwardly. “Not really. They’re not doing anything to be condescending, and I know that.”

“Do you feel like that is because you need their help?”

“That’s enough,” Namjoon cut in, his jaw clenched as he slid forward a little in his seat as if to help get his point across. “Y/N is perfectly capable of taking care of herself. We pitch in to check on her because we love and care about her, and she does the same for us. She is not a child but a grown woman who we love and care about enough to make sure she’s okay and gets the nice treatment she deserves. With all due respect, if you insult our sister again, we will be forced to cut this short.”

You looked over to him, offering a silent thank you as the interviewer coughed, trying to recover. The bad news was that this interview was live, so he really couldn’t do anything but sit there and realized he had just embarrassed himself.

Honestly, what else is there to say? You loved and cared about your brothers, and they loved and cherished you.

#aimee grace writes #bts #bts eighth member #'bts 8th member #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #kim namjoon #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jeongguk #bts imagine #bts x reader

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cosmosrival · 4 years

Note

Rico besides Kama what do you think about the other indian servants?????

AHHHHHHHHHH THIS IS GOING TO GET SOOOO LONG!!!! i have a different view of the indo fam as a whole. i call them the indo fam but i mean the found family trope!!!! theyre like a group of college students sharing a dorm if that makes sense, since their servant selves are obviously different from their initial myths/human vessels!!!

OK SO. RECENTLY, i have an oomf that found books about arjuna that summarize his exploits in the mahabharata(I DONT HAVE THE STRENGTH TO READ IT ALL IM SO SORRY) and also talk about him in a more philosphical manner such as his states of mind during each event etc and i’ve been meaning to read said book because im genuinely interested in arjuna now!!! and i’d like to know more about this indo prince because from what i’ve seen, he is portrayed in a rather bad light(?) in FGO which i find extremely !!!!!!!!!!! and incrdibley !!!!!!! strange !!!!!!! the mahabharata’s conflicts can be put in a mostly grey area where there’s no good nor bad, its not black and white. so seeing arjuna get bashed because of the way his conflict with karna was written is... hm. let’s say that im REALLY starting to understand arjuna fans that dislike seeing him get mischaracterized so much. OTHER THAN THAT, his design is adorable, his travel outfit is my favourite because he deserves to relax and have some fun!!! fgo making him a chuuni is cute and his VAs little moans are cute cute cute!!!!!!!!!!! (mash grabs my shoulder and forces me to sit down) i think that arjuna deserves better and im really happy to see him have fun in his travel costume voicelines. i think we should take arjun on a date!!! he’s a great lover, we’d have the best time!! OH ALSO, kama seeing him as the student council president in their interlude makes me SOOOOOOO HAPPY its unreal, i think it fits him very very well, the seitokaichou who was elected because of everyone’s hopes and recommended by teachers because he’s suuuch a good student but because of that, the pressure to be good is constantly towering over his head and everytime he looks out the window he wishes he could ditch class and skip a day just because he felt like going to the arcade and be a bad student.......just this once........i think hes very very cute...... i want him to cook for me. HAVE YO U READ HIS BOND 4 VOICELINE ?mmmmmggg i want him to get embarrassed everytime i praise him for having such a muscular waistline. AUG

ANEWAYS i also have quite the thoughts about karna, his characterization in the game is linked to arjuna’s and thats fine but i think that forgetting how much of a little sassy bastard he can get was a mistake! did you know that in apocrypha’s german dub on netflix, when jeanne calls his name like “You’re Karna, aren’t you ? The son of the Indian Sun God !” HES LIKE “So ?” AND THAT WAS SOOOO BITCHY OF HIM, i think that karna is a good boy in fgo but the fact that he was such a fighty old man in the mahabharata shouldnt be forgotten and is a charm trait. I MEAN ???? HE THREW HANDS WITH AN 18 YEAR OLD(ARJUN) WHILE BEIN LIKE... THIRTY TWO. WHATS WITH THIS ANNOYING OLD MAN !!!!! knowing these little facts about him made me like him so much more actually !! i think karna being so nice is adorable!! but the little bitchy energy u can find in his voicelines is also very charming!! i think karna looking at me emotionless as i ask him to lend me his notes for the nth time that week and then saying “...Mn.” when i thank him is cute!!! his voiceline towards things he dislikes is interesting to me. karna seeming aloof and mean bc he doesnt know how to communicate but is actually nice underneath...... hey... thats a little delinquentcore........ i wouldnt say yankii but hes like... hes like... u know hes the handsome quiet one of the group of yankiis... u know the one...? hey where are you going

ganesha is also a character im deeply interested in but i havent played CCC so i dont know that many details about jinako herself !! my brain goes HMMMMMM it seems lord ganesha is trans in fgo ! (since kama used to be a male god originally as well!!) ganesha uses all pronouns!!! and ganesha is also special to me because they share similar traits with kama when it comes to their characterization AND mischaracterizations. ganesha isnt JUST jinako. theres a part of a god in the servant mix!!! and jinako HERSELF is actually a pretty sad character imo. the whole otaku/neet thing is obviously a facade and her true wish being that she wants to redo her whole life is also proof of how much she hates what shes become, yet at the same time, she doesnt know what else she could do. but anyways, i prefer looking at servants from a lore POV so i think that ganesha should still be considered a god and be adressed as such!! i like seeing people portray ganesha as jinako but i prefer it when a certain lavish more godly side of them is put forward. a side of jinako that managed to move on a little bit if that makes sense ? that got more serious. and became someone else entierly despite sharing similarities. needless to say their bond with karna makes me happy since he shows them respect as you should towards a god!! its a bit different from their bond in CCC... like they matured somewhat!! anyway ganesha is the one who taught everyone else in the indo fam about video games and technology and i will NEVER shut up.

ashwatthama..... MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM %_’(’ç_”’è_ç(è_’”545656455456545453£¨¨µ¨µMµ¨++°=)=)°+ goodness. jesus christ on earth. my love story with him makes me so embarrassed. when he got revealed i instantly fell in love with him despite knowing JACK SHIT ABOUT HIM but since i was the only one in my friend group who was hardcore into fgo at the time, i kept my love for him to myself and just... (looks away)(i drop my wallet full of picturses of him) quietly adored his everything in silence. WELL, ree having an intense crush on yankii type characters isnt new, its been my favourite trope for ages (gyarus go in hand with them!!) and im still very attached to it so thats what made me love him in the first place!!!! BUT THEN. I GOT INTO HIS MAHABHARATAN LORE. And OHHHHHHHHH BABY.......... (im twirling my hair) so theres this 7ft tall war criminal..........<3<33<3(mash leans in and informs me that the convention of geneva didnt exist at the time) SO THERES THIS 7 FTTALL IMMORTALMAN.......<233 gOD he makes me absolutely CRAZY9909840385%£%%£%%µ%µ%µ the love i have for this character is immense and whenever im sad i remember that pako exists and has a tablet and can draw and i suddenly feel so much better. ok im gonna stop horny posting a little bit. but hes my wife. AND WHAT I LOVE ABOUT HIS PORTRAYAL IN FGO IS THAT, they actually made him a good boy despite his initial roughness and misdeeds ???!!! HELLO?? ashwatthama wishing for a redemption ark is my favourite thing and his righteousness that was born because of his regrets is a very interesting drivepoint to me !!! hes a gorgeous character and im buying a ticket plane as we speak right now so i can go find him in northern india. i’ll find him. GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME !!!!!GET OFF ME !!!

miss lakshimi makes me very sad! because every female servant in the indo fam is an already known face. (... would sita count.) and lakshi being a jeanneface is a waste. well, she’s still very pretty and her lore is also quite interesting!! i havent looked into it fully yet but i think she should be kissed on the mouth. her bad luck makes me slip on a banana peel whenevr i get close to her to kiss her and i hit my head on the pavement and pass away-

parvati is on a tough spot for me atm. i genuinely love thinking of her as the way the indian goddess herself is portrayed because thats where the fun lies for me in her character. especially when shes involved with other indian servants, thats a given!! i would like to see parvati grow, suffer and heal. because branding her as an “all-knowing mom” is easy, but every single parent makes mistakes if you follow that logic. also, since shes the sakura servant “thats closest to her initial personality”, she’s got some of the most Repulsive fans ive Ever witnessed in fandom spaces and lets say that im trying to work my way out of this hellhole and find things to like about parvati without the fandom’s influence. needless to say, im going to keep looking into her mythos and her lore by myself at my own pace and keep doing my own thing in my little corner.

rama shouldve been a jock. THE RAMAYANA IS OLDER THAN THE MAHABHARATA, WHY IS.....Hrm well him being summoned as his baby version gives me hope for a future rama alt perhaps??? but i think that he shouldve been a total jock and he shouldve been huge with a huge red lion-like mane for his hair and a teethy grin and big biceps and intense love for his wife. SPEAKING OF SITA, her charm point is her purity but i wish.... that their artist still hadnt drawn them like That, im not a fan of lily servants and i think purity = being young is a bit of an annoying excuse!!! rama and sita looking similar is because of their shared history which is fine but... rolls my eyes............. rama shouldve been 6ft tall and sita shouldve been a milf to match...... anyways i doubt ravana would be added as a servant but i’d love to have a ramayana centric event!! where all indo servants have their own lore centric role to play!!! oh thatd be a dream.... but i have learned to not expect much from a fanservice game so im jus gonna draw my own stuff! (strikes a pose!) (mashu claps!)

#answered #long post #SORRY FOR THE BIG SCROLL.

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steppedoffaflight · 4 years

Text

Summer’s a Knife - Chapter 7

Catch up on Chapter 6 here

To reward Van for his vulnerability you send him a video of your hand underneath the lace, your fingers moving against yourself. It felt good, sure, but most importantly it filmed good. Van seems to think so, too, judging by his next video.

You sigh in amusement at his enthusiasm. You forget how easy riling up men can be.

Maybe you’d cut someone else off at this point, but Van’s eagerness was endearing. You continue to send him videos of you touching yourself, playing up some soft moans into the microphone. After a few exchanges Van sends a video of his grand finale, complete with his own noises in the background. It’s the one bit out of everything you wish you could’ve saved.

Faking an orgasm is strictly against the rules, so you decide to close off snapchat, coming back to your texts with him instead. In an exhilarated rush you let your glasses of wine do the typing as you send Hope that makes London more bearable.

As always, Mary keeps you out of your comfort zone.

Word count: ~5.6k

Chapter Seven May 2019

Van leaves for the U.K. only days after your accident. You insist on being the one to drop him off at the airport, waking up barely past midnight on a workday in order to get him to LAX for his six AM flight. He’d fought tooth-and-nail against you being the one to take him, insisting on catching a ride with one of the other boys, but to be honest you’d wanted to see him one last time. You wanted to reassure him that you were a normal, functioning person, and not the traumatized mess he’d seen that night.

He’d given you a tight hug over the console as the car idled on the curb in front of his terminal before getting out and grabbing his bags, heading into the hustle and bustle of the airport. You don’t take off immediately but Van doesn’t look back. You watch him examine his phone through the glass doors before he shuffles off, rolling his suitcase behind him.

For the first time, you don’t have to wonder if you’ll see Van again. You’re absolutely certain you will, considering you drive away from the airport in his Range Rover.

It’s weird how comfortable you become driving it. You do have to text Van occasionally through the week with questions, but eventually you’ve made yourself right at home, going so far as to even set some of your own radio station presets. Hopefully he doesn’t mind, but you’d tried to listen to his and it just wasn’t your style. At this rate your indie-rock repertoire consisted of only Catfish and the one Sam Fender song you’d listened to after meeting him. And you were okay with that.

Mary has you come over Friday after work for a girl’s night. She insists it’s because Theo is headed to a bachelor party and she’ll be bored alone, but you get the feeling she’s been worried about you since your accident. She texts you more often than usual, asking about your muscle stiffness and the cut on your thigh. It’d been infected, but cleared up quickly with some first aid ointment you’d had around the house. You were still banged up and had some nasty bruises, but overall you felt lucky things hadn’t been worse.

The plans tonight are tame, a sure sign of Mary’s worry. While she’d usually jump on a girl’s night as an opportunity to head to a club, something you two haven’t done in forever, she insists on renting a movie and changing into pajamas as soon as you’re over. You have chinese delivered for dinner, and wash it down with a bottle of wine Mary had carefully selected for this evening. You two watch a comedy as you eat your food straight out of the paper containers, something funny about divorced women who decide to take a road trip and make impulsive decisions.

The whole living room rings out in shrieks of pain when one of the characters decides to get a bikini wax. You both cringe but can’t take your eyes off of the screen.

“God, remember when I got that wax?” Mary winces.

You remember it vividly, even though it was years ago. Mary had just started dating someone new and during your brow appointments she spur of the moment decided to get a brazillian wax done. One thing you appreciated about Mary’s boldness was your ability to learn from her mistakes; You know now that you will never, ever get a wax.

“I could never, ever, forget,” You tell her somberly as you recall the memory. She had waited until you were done with your brow wax so that you could be in the room with her, holding her hand. It had been traumatic for you both.

“He didn’t even care,” Mary shakes her head in distaste. “All that pain for nothing. He didn’t say one word about it when we fucked the next time.”

She spends a moment simmering in her anger before she shrugs, the clouds clearing. “It made for some great nudes, though. I used them when I first started talking to Theo and he still has them saved to this day.”

“No way? Even with recent ones?”

“What recent ones,” Mary snorts. “I haven’t sent him any in forever. He keeps asking but it’s like, I have to be in a certain mood, you know?”

You nod in understanding. “For sure. I’m never in the mood to photograph myself in fluorescent bathroom lighting.”

“Right, exactly!” Mary takes a long drink of her wine, finishing off her glass. “Now that I have a dimmer in the bathroom, though, it’s so much nicer. Turn it down to a nice glow, ugh.” She gives a chef’s kiss to the air. “So nice.”

She refills her wine glass, topping yours up without being asked. Your attention drifts back to the movie.

“I should take some new ones,” Mary muses.

“You should,” You encourage her.

“No, like, right now,” She says suddenly, sitting up. “I never have the house to myself. I should take some to send to Theo. Gotta keep his eyes off of the strippers, you know.”

You scoff at the idea that Theo would pay anyone else besides Mary a glance. He was head over heels for her. But you can see that Mary’s been hit with an unstoppable lightning bolt of inspiration, already shuffling her blanket aside so she can stand up.

“You gotta help me.” She hits pause on the movie, effectively changing the course of the night. “You always get my angles right.”

You sigh, but know there’s no use in arguing. You start to get up as well.

“I’ll grab more wine,” Mary says cheerfully, bouncing away towards the kitchen.

“You should take some for your man, too!” She calls from the other room.

You let out a dry laugh. “I don’t have a man.”

“Sure you do,” Mary smirks as she reenters the living room with an unopened bottle of wine, “You’re driving his Range Rover, aren’t you?”

“I’m driving my friend’s Range Rover,” You reply. “He was very clear that we are friends.”

“But he’s a friend that would appreciate a nice pic of you.”

“I’m sure he would. But I’m in the ugliest underwear ever, anyway.” You flash her the overworn pair you had on that was probably overdue to be thrown out.

“I have so many cute pairs!”

“We are not the same size!”

“Sure we are!” Mary has started her trip upstairs, and you follow along with both of your wine glasses. “You can fit my underwear for sure!”

“But not your bras!” Your ribcage was definitely wider than Mary’s.

“We can finesse them,” She insists. “We just need some safety pins. Or a hair tie. I dunno, but we’ll make it work.”

Mary’s place included a stunning walk in closet that you’ve always envied. It was attached to the master bedroom and included sets of drawers that kept all of her folded clothes organized. Theo clearly did not share your enthusiasm for the drawers, considering his clothes were in a heap on the floor underneath his hanging rack.

“He’s disgusting,” Mary shakes her head when she sees you notice Theo’s clothes. “I can’t get him to fold a fucking shirt no matter how hard I try. He just wants to hang everything! And there’s not enough space for that!” She gestures passionately to Theo’s hanging rod, which is indeed overflowing.

“Anyway, pick a set,” She slides open a few drawers, revealing matching bra and underwear sets. Lingerie had always been Mary’s forte.

Mary snatches a black lace set. The bra is clearly not intended for coverage purposes, as it’s obvious from glancing at it that her nipples will show right through the lace. You carefully consider a few other bras that catch your eye, but they’re all push-ups with thick padding. Something about Mary’s sheer bra just feels like it would catch Van off guard.

“I want the set you have,” You pout, hoping she’ll politely hand it over.

“I love this set so much,” Mary sighs. “I wanted to buy two sets at the store the day I tried it on because it was so incredible, but they didn’t have another one in black and all the other colors didn’t have the same oomf, you know?” She rifles through the drawers she has open before kneeling down, opening more.

“But they did have this one,” She presses a lacy bra into your hands. It’s identical to hers, except navy blue instead of black. “Does that work?”

You unravel the flimsy lace, marveling at how sheer it is. “Yes!”

“And for underwear,” Mary tuts, browsing her drawers again. “I don’t have the matching ones for those, but these are kinda the same color.”

The underwear is only one shade lighter than the bra, which won’t be noticeable in pictures. The problem is that it’s a thong, with a waistband that’s meant to settle high on your hips.

“I can’t wear these,” You sigh in disappointment when you unravel the delicate strips of fabric barely thick enough to be held together at the seams. “I look terrible in thongs.”

“Nuh-uh! High waisted thongs are totally different. Trust me! Once you get the waistband right it makes your ass look so round!”

Already your heart was sinking in anticipation of trying on ill-fitting clothes and being too discouraged to take any pictures in them. “Alright,” You sigh, not willing to argue about it.

Mary heads back into the bedroom, shedding her pajamas before slipping into the lingerie. You follow her to the bathroom, where she plays with the dimmer while you gulp down more wine to soothe your nerves.

“Take a pic,” Mary commands, halfheartedly posing. You do, and then she reviews it, adjusting the dimmer again as she mutters to herself.

“Another one.”

When she reviews this one, her face lights up. “Perfect,” She tells you, pressing her phone back into the palm of your hand. “Put the wine down, and let’s do this.”

Mary is stunning on camera. Taking pictures comes as easily to her as everything else. She’s not even the slightest bit shy about you being the one to take them, shamelessly sitting down on the edge of the bathtub and spreading her legs, running her fingers provocatively over her thighs. She’s right about the dim lighting making all the difference. Every photo you take of her looks sendable, even if she wrinkles her nose when she reviews them.

When she’s done she’s got a huge selection to chose from, each picture slightly different then the last. She sends one focused on her bra to Theo immediately, and saves the rest for a different time.

“Now you!” She exclaims, excitedly clapping her hands together.

If you were nervous in the beginning, watching Mary so flawlessly pose has definitely ruined your confidence by now. You hesitate, eyeing your chosen clothes on the bed.

“No excuses!” Mary cries when she sees your hesitation. “Didn’t you say Van was in London? What better way to keep him thinking about you then this?”

She’s right. For all you knew he could be sleeping in someone else’s bed right now.

You heave a defeated sigh, slipping off your clothes before shimmying into Mary’s.

The bra does need some finessing, Mary cleverly linking two safety pins together to add the necessary length to the band. It’s uncomfortable but it works, and your nipples do show right through the lace as you’d intended.

You hold your breath as you shimmy into the thong. The lace uncomfortably slips between your thighs, disappearing into your ass. You grimace down at yourself as you adjust the waistband, unhappy with the way it looks.

“This doesn’t look right,” You sigh when you examine yourself in the bathroom mirror.

“Come here,” Mary demands, entering the bathroom with you. Her cold fingers make you flinch as the fusses with the lace, picking at it until it’s positioned to her satisfaction. “This is how it’s supposed to look.”

When you look back in the mirror to see her handiwork, you’re stunned. Her nitpicking had worked some serious magic on the fit. She’d tugged the waistband up until it rested right below your belly button, and then had tugged the sides even higher. The high leg cut of the material revealed extra skin, successfully giving the illusion that you have a more hourglass figure with a larger ass than you actually had.

“See?” Mary smiles at your reflection through the mirror. “Now time for the magic.”

Unfortunately, however, you are not as photogenic as Mary. Although Mary dismisses any gripes you have about the photos she’s taking, you can’t shake the gut feeling that nothing you were doing was working. You didn’t feel confident enough to send a single one of these photos to Van. You shy away from taking photos on a normal day, let alone in lingerie with someone else in the room. Eventually you grab your phone from Mary’s hands.

“This isn’t working,” You huff.

“But it is,” Mary argues, “You look incredible!”

“Okay, well maybe I need to take some alone,” You compromise. “You’re giving me stage fright!”

“How am I giving you stage fright? I’m telling you how hot you look!”

“Please,” You plead with her, “Just give me some time to try to get something halfway decent.”

“Suit yourself,” Mary shrugs, swigging the wine on the counter straight from the bottle. “But you’re not allowed to leave until I see proof you’ve sent him one.”

With that she leaves you to it, softly closing the bathroom door behind her.

You wish she would’ve left the wine.

Now that you’re alone, the pressure is on. You open up the camera, praying you’ll have some good luck.

Without being watched things go much smoother. Within a handful of shots you’ve gotten one that you like. You’re sitting on the edge of the bathtub, the warm glow from the mirror lights lighting up the skin on your chest. The details of the lace are visible enough, but the dark color of your nipples through the fabric steals the focus. Your hand is suggestively cupping one breast, your pointer finger dangerously close to brushing your nipple. There’s not enough light in the room to illuminate any of the background behind your body. The entire focus is on the bra, which consumes the entire faceless shot.

The moment you feel the thrill of having taken a decent photo you take advantage of the feeling. You rush to send it to Van before you chicken out. At the very least, you’ve now satisfied Mary’s requirements and can now be released from the bathroom.

You forget exactly what the time difference is between L.A. and London, but you think it’s something significant, so Van probably wouldn’t be looking at your text right this second. But you’re still riding a wave of adrenaline, so you decide to take a few more in anticipation of his reaction.

You try out one of Mary’s poses, legs spread open and a hand suggestively on your thigh. Taking it yourself adds something extra to the angle the way it’s looking down onto your lap, capturing your perspective.

Your phone buzzes in your hand in the middle of snapping another pic. You almost drop your phone in surprise.

Christ, is all Van’s sent.

Do you like it? You type back nervously.

Yeah

Van’s lack of emotion is typical, but you’re desperate to prompt something more from him tonight. You send the photo of your open thighs as a follow up.

There you go, You send underneath it with a winky face.

Immediately the typing indicator comes up. Got any more?

Do you have snapchat? Your heart races as you send it.

Van’s reply is one word: his username.

You scramble to open up snapchat, adding him immediately. He accepts you with as much eagerness.

Say hi!, the app prompts you as soon as you two are deemed friends. You click the prompt, opening up the camera screen.

Piggybacking off of the photo of your thighs, you dare to take a video in the same position. This time you let your fingers brush over the lace covering you, cutting off the video as soon as it looks like you’re going to tuck a fingertip under the fabric.

As quick as it’s sent, you watch the status on the app change to opened.

When a notification from Van suddenly appears, you tap it without a second thought.

Your gasp audibly echoes around the small room. It’s a clip of Van’s briefs, Van zooming in on the fabric in an attempt to emphasize how hard he is. There’s one that loads immediately after. He’s undressed now, jerking himself off.

“Are you okay in there?” Mary knocks on the door.

“Yes!” You exclaim breathlessly. “Go away! I’m having a convo with Van!”

“You have to show me everything when you’re done!” Mary yells through the door, retreating when you hurriedly agree. Thankfully your actual texting thread is mild compared to what you’re about to send.

You sigh in amusement at his enthusiasm. You forget how easy riling up men can be.

Christttt Van sends again. Trust me it did

You emerge from the bathroom in all your flushed, disheveled glory. Mary throws her phone down on the bed when you come into the bedroom.

“What happened?” She shouts in excitement, bouncing on the bed. “What’d you send him?”

You open up your texting thread and pass it over. “We only texted for a sec.”

Mary’s eyes widen. “You snapchatted him?”

“I mean…” You shrug, blushing. “We snapchatted each other.”

Mary beams in approval. “‘Hope that makes London more bearable’,” She reads out loud before cackling. “Jesus, girl, what has gotten into you?”

“I don’t know!” You exclaim, laughing. “I never do shit like this!”

“I’ve never seen you act like this,” Mary agrees, passing your phone back. “Van is just bringing out a Y/N like never before.”

“Oh, stop. It’s just been forever since I’ve been around someone I really like. That’s all. You know I had that awful dating streak that was so bad I literally gave up.”

“That’s true, I do remember talking you into giving Van a chance,” Mary smirks. “At this rate I’m waiting for a wedding invitation.”

You wrinkle your nose. “No way.”

“You wouldn’t marry him?”

“Van doesn’t seem like the husband type,” You shrug. “And I don’t even know him, so… Definitely saying no to that proposal.”

Mary hums like she doesn’t quite believe you. “I dunno…” She singsongs. “He acts like he loves you. The whole racing out in a thunderstorm thing? And he gives head. He loves you more than Theo loves me, that’s for sure.”

You roll your eyes at her joke. “He’s just very nice,” You brush her off. “I guess he can afford to be extra nice, like the car thing. But he’s never put out any feelers to even be my boyfriend, so I don’t think he’ll be my husband anytime soon.”

“And what about you?”

You turn around so Mary can undo the safety pins on the bra. “What?”

“Like what kind of feelings do you have for him?”

You think for a moment. “I like what we have. He’s fun to be around.”

“You’re not falling in love with him?”

“No!” You giggle.

“Not even a little bit?”

“Oh God, I think everyone’s a little bit in love with him. Did you see everyone at that show?”

“You’re right.” Mary’s done unhooking the bra, and you shimmy out of it. “It even rubbed off on me a little. If things don’t work out can I make my move?”

You two erupt in a fit of giggles at the idea.

The next day slips by, lazy and slow. You and Mary go to bed late, wake up even later, and take your sweet time heading out to grab some breakfast. By the time you’re sitting down to eat it’s already edging towards late afternoon. Theo stumbles in, hungover and exhausted from last night’s adventures. He’s got his own hangover cure in hand, and you three eat together while Mary and you tease him about the strippers.

Afterwards you all settle in on the couch. Mary and Theo are in the middle of some series, and you watch it for lack of anything better to do even if you don’t understand the plot. They seem quite passionate over whatever’s happening, and that’s more amusing than the actual show. You manage to sneak a few clips of the two of them angrily debating over a character and send them to Van on snapchat. He texts you a laughing face in response.

Before you know it it’s dinnertime, and you never ended up going back to your own place. You’re grateful to be so close with someone that staying over a second time is an unspoken agreement as you all argue over where to order dinner from. If anything, Mary seems happy that she can keep a close eye on you for a little longer.

The argument somehow ends with everyone working together to make spaghetti. Theo takes over meatball production, you’re in charge of concocting a pot of sauce, and Mary takes on the extraordinary task of both DJing and boiling the prepackaged noodles. There’s no garlic bread, so you all settle for baking regular slices of bread piled with butter, cheese and spices. Despite everyone’s differences in technique and flavor preferences, by some magic it all turns out perfect.

After your late dinner you retire to the guest bedroom, which you’ve stayed in many times over the years. But after a day of being lazy you feel restless, your body feeling rested enough to resist sleep. You pass the time by scrolling mindlessly on social media.

What are you up to?

Van’s not really one to text first, so when the notification slides onto your screen you jump at something to entertain you. Can’t sleep :( you confess.

In the same boat Van replies.

You snort to yourself. Aren’t you always lol

Haha yeah. Another bubble from him: Doesn’t make it easier though

I bet, You type back. I’m sure time differences don’t help.

Deffo not.

As you try to think of a response, Van sends another. Where are you?

Laying in bed. Stayed over at Mary’s again.

Typing indicator. Then: Can you manage a sec alone?

I don’t have any more pics Van. I sent you the only two good ones I took. You punctuate the message with a laughing emoji.

Highly doubt that

That you only took two good ones I mean

But actually I was wondering if I could give you a call

At that you perk up. Yeah you can call!

Van doesn’t respond to your text, but after about five agonizing, uncertain minutes your phone lights up with his call.

“Hello,” You greet him immediately.

“Hi.” You don’t realize how much you miss Van’s voice until you hear it. “What time is it for you?”

“Midnight,” You tell him after peeking at your screen to double check. “What time is it there?”

“Eight.”

“At night?”

“No, in the morning.”

The weirdness of talking to someone who’s existing in a whole different time of day settles over your skin. “That’s weird.”

Van laughs. “Are you alone?”

“Yep,” You tell him, smoothing the comforter over your legs to keep your hands busy. “Why are you being so paranoid?”

“Paranoid?” Van sounds both amused and offended. “About what?”

“About me being alone! Is you calling me some sort of secret?”

“No!” Van chuckles. “I just want to make sure we’re speaking in private.”

You start to catch his drift, trying to suppress your smile so he doesn’t hear it down the line. “Oh? And why’s that?”

“You can’t sleep, right?” Van’s voice is low.

The sudden shift in the tone of his voice makes your stomach flip. You try to keep your tone breezy. “It’s kind of annoying, yeah.”

“It is,” Van agrees.

“But it’s morning for you,” You tease him, “Shouldn’t you be heading to work?”

“Not ‘til later. Which is fucking great because I didn’t sleep a wink all night.”

“Oh? That sounds rough.”

“Wasn’t so bad. Wrote a pretty good song.”

“You wrote a song?” You furrow your brows in confusion even if nobody’s there to see. “Your album just came out!”

“I never stop writing,” Van brushes you off. “Anytime an idea hits I play around with it.”

You wonder if he writes down these songs in that leather notebook you’d seen at his house. “I see.”

“Yeah.” Van’s voice suddenly goes back to the lower tone he’d been using before you two had gotten distracted. “Anyway, I thought we’d help each other out.”

“Help each other out? How?” You deliver your question in the same mock-cluelessness of a cheesy porn actress.

“Oh, Christ,” Van’s quiet laughter bubbles over the line. “Will you fucking quit?”

“Quit what?” You maintain the cluelessness. “I don’t understand what you’re asking me to do, Mr. McCann.”

Van laughs so hard it turns to a coughing fit. “That’s fucking sick. Mr. McCann is my dad.”

“Ew,” You agree quietly. “But what did you have in mind?”

“Thought we could both get off, if you’d like to get focused.”

“Don’t blame this on me,” You argue mildly. “Where do we start?”

“Pants off and getting comfortable, I suppose.”

“Yeah, okay.” You set the phone aside while you wriggle out of your underwear and debate what position you’d like to be in. Laying down worked fine, but the pillows on the bed have the gears in your brain whirring. You internally debate whether using one of the guest room pillows is disgusting. You were pretty sure you were the only one that stayed in here, though. And you could just use one and concoct some sort of reason they’d need to wash it later. You promise yourself the latter and grab one of the ones at the bottom of the stack.

You hear the noise of Van speaking, but the phone isn’t pressed to your ear.

“Huh?” You ask when you pick it back up. “I set the phone down.”

“Are you ready?” Van asks.

“No, I’m still getting comfortable.” You smush the phone into the crook of your neck while you puff the flattened pillow and straddle it.

“What? How long does that take?”

“Shush,” You demand. “It’s a science. Anyway, I’m comfortable now.” You sit back on your knees, feeling the cool fabric press between your legs.

“What’s comfortable?”

Your cheeks heat up in embarrassment that you have to explain it. But you suppose you better get over that quick, considering it’s the only way this’ll work. “Um, I’m using a pillow.”

“Like that show we watched?”

You feel your face burning hotter even though he was being genuine. “Yeah. Like that. You’re doing this too, right?”

“Course I’m doing it too,” Van assures you. “Can’t let you have all the fun.”

You chew at a piece of dead skin on your lip. “So what position are you in?”

“On my back on my bed. The usual.”

In your mind you picture his bedroom twenty minutes away, even though that’s not where he is. The fact you have no idea what’s going on on his end is disorienting. “Are you hard?”

“Uh, just about,” Van’s voice is raspy. “Figure once you get going I’ll be there.”

“You want me to start first?” Your voice wavers the tiniest bit from nerves.

“Yeah. Talk me through it.”

“Okay…” You trail off nervously. You switch your phone into your other hand so that you can reach between your legs with your dominant hand. All of this talking has already had a noticeable effect on your body, which is instantly happy at some light friction.

“I, uh-” You shiver at your own touch. “Just starting off slow.”

Van makes a small, strained noise. It’s so slight it almost sounds like background noise, but there’s the noise of his exhale against the speaker. Encouraged by his response, you search for something more to say.

“With circles,” You add. “You know, uh, how you start off with bigger circles?” The idea of him being the one to touch you makes you shudder. “Like that. You always get it right.”

“Yeah?” Van breathes.

“Yeah,” You sigh. Your fingers speed up, your hips rocking against the pillow to magnify the sensation. “Did you start yet?”

“I did,” Van confirms. You shut your eyes tight and try to imagine him.

“Do you use something?” You ask, desperate to be able to sharpen the image in your mind’s eye.

“Hm?”

“Like… lotion? Or lube?” Your fingertips rub over a spot that sends a shock up your spine and you can’t control your gasp.

Van starts speaking but stutters in surprise at your noise. “No,” He finally grits out. “I- I do the old lick-the-palm-of-my-hand. That’s it though.”

You’ve narrowed down the spot throbbing for attention, a moan slipping down the line to Van. “Fuck,” You sigh, your legs widening. You press against the pillow harder, riding it with the same enthusiasm you ride Van with. “I wish I had my vibrator,” You whine.

His breath hitches. “You’ve got one?”

“At home in my drawer I do.” Thinking about pressing it into you while it buzzes on the perfect setting makes you twitch desperately against your fingertips. “Fuck, I wish I had it so bad.”

“What would you do with it, though?” Van pants. You can clearly hear the soft clicking of Van’s foreskin slipping against any precome, giving you a sense of his rhythm.

“Slow down,” You plead, trying to focus and match your tight circles to his pace. “I’m trying to go at the same pace as you.”

Van’s breathing is jagged as you hear him slow his pace slightly.

You try to think up some sort of response to Van’s question about the vibrator. The only reason you were craving it so bad is because Van was out of town. It doesn’t see the light of day when he’s in L.A..

“I only use it when you’re not here,” You confess, too exhilarated to censor yourself. “So if you were around I wouldn’t be doing shit with it.”

“Oh fuck,” Van sounds dangerously close to the edge. “I miss you. I wish I was fucking you.”

His voice sounds raw. You replay the way he says he misses you over and over in your mind.

“I miss you too,” You admit, your voice cracking. “I’ve been thinking about riding you this entire time.”

“I’m gonna come,” Van pants.

“I know,” You tell him. “I can hear it.”

There’s the frantic noise of his pace speeding up before Van’s moaning down the line. You squeeze your eyes shut so hard it hurts just so you can picture his face, recalling all the details you remember when you’d jerked him off over your stomach.

You focus on your hazy fantasy of riding Van and getting to see his face tense like that until you’re over the edge, breathing his name into the microphone.

A blissful silence follows as you both come back down. You allow your bodyweight to slump sideways, dramatically rolling off of the pillow.

“What was that?” Van croaks.

“Me readjusting,” You say, hesitantly giving the pillow a slight sniff. It smells like sex. You cram it back into the bottom of the pile, reminding yourself to think up a lie in the morning.

“Oh. Think you can sleep now?”

“Yeah.” You wince at the way your thighs ache from your position. “Definitely wore myself out. What about you?”

“Exhausted. Ready to catch some rest.”

“Okay.” You yawn. “I’ll let you go.”

“I miss you,” Van says again earnestly. “I’ll be back in the States soon.”

It’s one thing to say things spur of the moment during sex, but Van repeating his declaration stuns you.

“Miss you,” You reply instinctually. “So does my vibrator. It’s in need of a vacation.”

Your joke lands as intended, your heart swelling as Van breaks out into a belly laugh.

“Christ,” He catches his breath enough to say. “You’re somethin’ else.” You hear the faint click of his lighter. “Stay on the phone and have a smoke with me?”

“I can’t,” You groan in disappointment. “I don’t have any on me.”

“Oh. Alright. I’ll let you get to sleep, then.” He sounds equally as disappointed.

“Okay. Text me.”

“I will. Goodnight.”

“Night.”

#summer's a knife #catfish and the bottlemen #catb #catb fic #van mccann #van mccann fic #van mccann fanfiction #vanfic

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ayamari-no-goshi · 3 years

Text

Eidolon 3 | (T)

ff.net | AO3

Fandom: Danny Phantom (DP)

Summary: AU: What started off as the result of a simple act of rebellion ends up causing his life to spin out of control. How will young Danny cope with the results as well as a past that has a strange habit of coming back to haunt him.

Warnings: rated T for violence, mentions of death, kidnapping, and various other things

Parings: hints of Danny/Sam much later on

Notes: originally uploaded to Ff.net. Cross-posted to AO3 and tumblr.

Chapter 3: Worries

"Sam… can you run this by me again?" he asked as he stopped searching for a moment and glanced at her. "What exactly are we looking for?"

Her response was a roll of the eyes. "I thought we went over this already… Don't you want to know what we saw last night?"

"I don't!" Tucker voiced, causing the two of them to look at him. "What? That thing was scary! For all we know, it could still be out here, and I for one, have no desire to see it again!"

"Why, aren't we brave?" The sarcasm in Sam's voice spoke volumes. In an almost immediate response, Tucker covered his head with his arms. Apparently, that tone was a verbal warning of the threat of pain. Sam could apparently be rather scary when she felt like it.

"Hey! Don't get mad at me! I just want to keep my good looks safe for the ladies! Besides, you're the one with the grudge!"

That answer just seemed to anger Sam more. "How selfish can you get? You don't even care that other people could be in danger?" Though it was true that she had sworn her vengeance on whatever they had seen, rational seemed to have come back to her in the hours after the chase. She currently just wanted to know who or what that was.

"I do… except, in my book, I come first! Besides, shouldn't this be a job for the police instead?"

"Like they're going to believe a couple of kids. We'll probably be the ones to get in trouble if we say anything. They only take it seriously if we find some kind of proof."

Danny stayed silent as he watched their fight continue. Sam did have a point; whatever it was that they had seen the night before could potentially be dangerous to anyone in the area. It also seemed unlikely that the police would believe them, since they would probably just pass it off as some kind of animal, which it definitely was not! However, he sided more with Tucker. If it wasn't for Sam's persuasiveness (aka threats), there was no way that he would have come back to the cemetery for quite some time.

He glanced around the familiar surroundings and shivered slightly. It was only about one in the afternoon, but it felt like it was much later. The shadows appeared more pronounced, the statues looked corrupted, and the air seemed stale and heavy. It was almost as if that thing's presence had managed to taint the area.

Even though he really did not believe in the so-called paranormal, there was definitely something demonic about that creature. That thought caused him to sigh. He was being silly. There was probably a very logical explanation for what he and his friends had seen. It was probably just some drifter or psychopath… which is just as comforting.

In truth, he would rather just forget about the incident and chalk it up as a bizarre situation that he never wanted to ever deal with again. He had also made a promise to himself to never again sneak out of his house at night; being scared half to death was so not worth it. However, he had this sinking suspicion that Sam was going to make him break that. Speaking of which…

"What…?" he asked after he realized that she had asked him something. "Sorry, I wasn't listening."

"Jeez, Danny, get your head out of the clouds." Judging by her expression and the fact that Tucker was hiding rather poorly behind a nearby bush, they had stopped arguing for the time being. "I just wanted to know if you had managed to get home okay last night. I mean, you didn't get in trouble or anything, did you? I kinda forgot to ask earlier."

He frowned for a moment. "Surprisingly… no," he replied before giving them a sheepish grin. "I… uh… fell when I snuck back through my window. If you haven't already noticed, I'm kinda klutzy. Winston's use to that, but it's a little weird for me to fall at night. If he did wake up, I guess he assumed I fell off the bed again."

Sam shook her head. "Again…?"

"I don't do it often!" he replied in an embarrassed protest. "Just a couple times a year!"

"And that makes it so much better."

"Um, I don't mean to pry or anything," Tucker interrupted as he came over. Apparently, he now thought it was safe for him to come out of hiding, though he did make sure that he was out of Sam's punching range. "But, why do you call your dad by his first name?"

That question earned another sheepish look. "Well… um… I'm actually adopted. Winston's been my guardian for as long as I can remember. Apparently, my parents had asked him to take care of me if anything would happen to them…" He sounded wistful for a moment before he sat down on a nearby bench. Raising his head, he glanced at them while wearing an expression that was unreadable. "I… I really don't know what happened to them. Winston's not very comfortable with the topic."

After a small pause, Sam glared at Tucker, who cringed. "Tucker! How could you bring that up?" she demanded as she moved closer to him.

"Sorry!" He immediately backed away from her as he raised his hands again. "I didn't know!"

That caused Danny to chuckle, which caused both of them to look at him. "It's okay, really! I don't mind. Let's just go back to searching before Tucker gets hurt."

"Tucker likes that idea!"

Sam glared at the nervous boy for a moment before poked him in the chest, "Fine, but this doesn't mean that you're off the hook."

….

"Sam!" Tucker whined about an hour later. "Let's call it a day! We haven't found anything! And besides, we promised Danny yesterday that we'd show him around."

Once again, Danny agreed with him. There were definitely less boring activities than failing miserably at finding anything. They had found nothing! It was as if there was absolutely nothing to even suggest that there had even been something other than him in this part of the graveyard within the last day. It was definitely frustrating since there was a small part of him that did want proof that he hadn't just imagined last night. Even if Sam and Tucker had seen it, maybe it had been some weird group hallucination. He had heard those were possible.

Sam glanced around again and gave a frustrated huff before she kicked the ground. "I guess you're right… even if I don't want you to be. I guess we should lea… Hey, what's that?" She pointed at something before she sprinted over to whatever it was that she had seen.

He and Tucker shared a look before they followed her. By the time they had reached her, she had picked up what appeared to be a piece of paper and was examining it. Apparently, it contained either an image or word that was holding her interest.

"Um… Sam… what… oomf!" Danny's words were cut off when Sam shoved the paper into his hands. "What the heck?"

She glared at him while she impatiently tapped her foot. "Just look at it!"

After giving her a look, he complied. At first, the only thing that caught his attention was that he was holding a rather old piece of paper. That normally would not be too weird since littering was unfortunately common, but this paper wasn't just weathered, but it also had a strange feel as if it was more along the lines of canvas than actual paper. He then noticed that there were black marks on it, which he realized was a sketch of what appeared to be some sort of figure.

He turned the paper a bit to see if he could get a better feel for the picture. It appeared to be an ink sketch of what he took to be a demonic figure with… possibly flaming hair. After a moment, he also realized that there seemed to be writing on the top of the paper, but the letters were too faded for him to make out.

"So… what do you think?" Sam asked after he had handed the paper to Tucker.

"Not much," he replied with a shrug. "Sure, it's creepy enough, but I don't think it's related to this. Papers find their way here all the time. Possibly someone lost it out of their sketchbook a while back."

She just shook her head. "Danny, I tend to do a bit of sketching myself… That's not a type of paper, if it is paper, that you commonly use. In fact, I'm fairly certain that I've never seen it before."

"Sam, you're probably over thinking things. I really don't think that it's anything out of the ordinary," Tucker told her as he gave it back to her. He then glanced at Danny and grinned. "Although Sam's usually pretty level-headed, she sometimes lets her love of anything weird run away with her."

"Take that back!"

"In this case, I don't think I will."

"Would you still say that if you weren't standing behind me?" Danny asked as he tried to turn to get a look at his friend.

Tucker gave him a serious look. "Dude, have you seen her boots? They hurt! Oh… alright." After receiving another glare, he gave up on hiding and looked over at the still irritated goth. "If it will make you happy, I'll try to find some information on it when I get home. Though, to be absolutely honest, I'm fairly certain that picture's nothing more than the product of someone's deranged… oh, I mean artistic… mind."

Try as she might, Sam couldn't resist chuckling at his comment. "Thanks. If anyone could find something, it would be you."

"I'm glad you noticed."

"Sure, I noticed. It's your only redeeming quality."

"Hey!"

"Sorry to interrupt another one of your fights," he told them as he raised an eyebrow. Their "play" arguments were throwing him for a loop. How was it possible they were still friends if that happened as commonly as it seemed? "But, am I missing something?"

Sam laughed as she waved him off with her hand. "Don't mind us. Both of us keep forgetting that you don't know any of this yet. Although he might not look like it, Tucker's amazing with technology. I swear that he could honestly bring down a satellite with that PDA of his." She then glanced over at the boy who had brought out said PDA and had begun checking it in a strangely loving fashion. "I'm actually surprised that he didn't mention it yesterday. Perhaps he was trying not to scare you way."

After a moment she placed her hand on his shoulder. "Come on! We should leave now before he starts trying to induct you into his technologic world…"

xxxxx

The door slammed which let him know that his charge was finally home. If it was any other day, he would have actually gone to greet the boy, but this was not the case. He was currently stuck on the phone listening to someone who was irritating him more and more with each passing second. Even though he was usually a patient man, it was taking all of his self control to not raise his voice at her.

"Ma'am, I understand the consequences," he told the voice on the phone tiredly as he tried to wrap up the conversation, "But I assure you, that not only am I acting on his parents' wishes, but that I am also taking very good care of him."

What the woman said next absolutely enraged him. "That remains to be seen!" was his indigent reply. "Please reserve your judgments until you or one of your people come to do that review. Now, have a good day." The woman had tried to respond, but he cut her off by slamming the phone. Those people were so tiring, but that one really knew what to say to get under his skin.

"Uh… is everything okay in here…?" Danny asked carefully as he appeared in the kitchen. His expression clearly said that he hoped that he was not in trouble.

Winston sighed and ran his hand through his hair as he sat down. "It's really nothing too important, just another call from the state. Apparently, they're now attempting to use scare tactics." He then looked at the boy and tried to smile, "So, how was your day?"

Danny shrugged as he too grabbed a seat. "Sam and Tucker showed me around town some more, and we hit the arcade for a bit before Tucker had to head home. We're going to try to get together again in a couple days."

"That's good…"

"Um… are you sure you're okay?"

He sighed as he looked up at the boy who seemed worried about the absent-minded response he had recieved. "Yeah… I guess I let them get to me more than I had thought. Anyways, how does pizza sound for dinner?"

"That sounds great!" Danny then got up and headed towards the hall. "I'm going to be in my room for a while."

"That's fine." Winston then got up and picked up the phone again. After calling the pizza place, he headed into the study and tried to relax.

Why was in the world was that man getting involved in this? He had heard the rumors that the man had begun to involve certain aspects of his many companies in some of the state cases, but until that call he did not believe that they were actually true. Due to the money that those companies held, it was going to much more difficult than he had originally thought to keep Danny. Not only that, but the head of those companies, Vlad Masters himself, had personally become interested.

According to that woman, he claimed to be a friend of Danny's parents. If that was the case, why didn't they ask him to take the boy? But, that was beside the point. Even though the man was well-respected, there was something that just did not sit right with Winston. Sure, he might be a business genius, but he had gained way too much power too quickly. There were rumors that those gains had not been made above the table, and Winston believed that they were true.

It was also known that the man was not above using underhanded tactics in court. If this case did end up going that far… there was no telling what that man might reveal. Danny's story was complicated, and even though he had done what was asked of him, it was unlikely that a jury would see it the same way, especially with how unbelievable the story really was. Most likely, Masters would corrupt the tale, making it even worse.

Then there was Danny to think about. While it's true that he had not be entirely forthcoming with what had actually happened, he had planned on revealing everything on his upcoming birthday. However, with the current mess, he was unsure what precisely to do. If he was to wait and the boy was told a corrupted story, it would most likely shatter his world. He could not let that happen, but he did not want to add stress to him, especially since there had been no indication it was true…

A sudden crash followed by a yell immediately got him out of his seat. That was….? What was that? He stood still for a moment trying to figure out from where the noise had originated when he realized that had been Danny's voice. Sure, the boy did have a tendency to trip, but there was no way that was normal.

He immediately ran to boy's room and opened the door. "Danny! Are you all right? I heard a crash!" He looked around expecting the boy to be near his chair or bed, but instead he was on the floor, plastered against the wall. His piercing blue eyes were wide and frightened.

Worried, he kneeled beside the boy, placed his hand on the boy's shoulder, and gently shook him. Unfortunately, he still did not get a response as Danny was still staring at something. His military instincts kicked in, causing him to tense and glance around the room looking for anything that was out of place. After a moment, he realized that nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but he still kept himself prepared potential surprise.

"Danny…" he whispered harshly to his charge as he continued to watch, "what happened?"

There was no sound until he heard Danny take a deep breath and move. He looked back to see the boy leaning his head against the wall. His breathing was still heavy, but it looked like the worst of the shock of whatever had happened was beginning to wear off. "Are you okay?" he asked cautiously as he glanced around again.

"Huh…?" the boy's voice was startled. Had he only just realized that he had come into the room? "Wh-what's going on?"

"Are you hurt?" he asked as he knelt down again. "Did something happen? Did you see something weird?"

At the last question, his charge tensed and glanced at his hand as if he was examining it. After a moment, he hesitantly looked back at him and shook his head. "I… I'm fine, but what's with the twenty questions?"

He raised an eyebrow at the boy. "Really? Daniel, I heard a crash and a yell from you. I was worried," he told him as he helped him to his feet. "Are you sure everything's okay?"

This time, he was answered with a nod. "I'm fine… I just … fell off the chair... and managed to knock some of the stuff off my desk…" Danny cringed slightly when he realized how weak sounding his excuse was. He then became more animated and began to push the older man towards the door. "I promise! I'm perfectly fine! N-nothing's wrong! Just give me a few minutes to clean up everything, and I'll be right out! The pizza's supposed to be here shortly, right?"

Before Winston even had a chance to attempt to get a word in, Danny shoved him out of the room and slammed to door. He remained there, a little stunned for a few moments. Whatever had happened definitely spooked the boy, it was probably nothing like he had said… but he could not help but wonder. A normal fall like that should not be so frightening.

He took another glance at the door before he headed back into the kitchen. Maybe he should watch the boy a little more closely, just in case.

#danny phantom #danny phantom au #fanfic #fanfiction #dp au #danny fenton #phandom #dp #sam manson #tucker foley #vlad plasmius #supernatural #fantasy #Eidolon

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alexa-crowe · 4 years

Text

A 2004 Kid Watches GoT S1E1

That’s me, I just finished watching the very first episode of Game of Thrones. I was live Tweeting, but now I’m going to ruminate using my Tweets before watching episode 2.

First off, there’s a lot of problems with this show. It’s nothing obvious, but I feel like I need to say it because it’s a big problem: there’s a lot of unnecessary nudity of women. Sure, the actresses are consenting, but that doesn’t make it right. Just because a character is nude doesn’t mean the camera needs to show her boobs or naked body for fuck’s sake. Maybe if men were also nude as much it wouldn’t be so bad, but they aren’t. The writers of Game of Thrones sexualized women, which is abhorrent and disgusting. They “had” to age up the characters for nudity and sex scenes that were either unnecessary scenes or could not display nude bodies! It’s, quite frankly, disappointing. I just needed to get all that out.

Onto my actual thoughts of the first episode.

YO WHY TF DID THE NIGHT KING HAVE A HORRIBLE DEATH SEQUENCE WHEN THE WHITE WALKERS WERE LITERALLY THE FIRST PLOT THREAD INTRODUCED & THEREFORE THE MOST IMPORTANT?????? (like seriously, wtf. he’s literally the main villain of the story!!)

(okay but like what is the symbolism for?????)

oh lawd Arya is a feisty one and Bran’s super soft oh fuck I love: them. (YOU HEAR THAT?? I LOVE THEM!)

Jon, bby, ur a real Stark. (but seriously he’s literally a Stark. his mom’s Lyanna he’s legit a Stark lmfao no infidelity here, Cat.)

Oh shit NED U BETTER NOT—YOU BETTER BE THE “winter is coming that means white walkers” TYPE OR I WILL RESCIND MY MISPLACED DEVOTION TO YOU.

Omg direwolves i’m OMG JON’S A SMART ONE! HA! WHOULDA THUNK?

Lol Jon’s a real Stark fuck off Theon

If I have to watch Cersei and Jaime be romantic or sexual istg i’m gonna throw up a little in my mouth.

Please don’t hit me w twincest in the first episode prayers as I take a bathroom break (they hit me with the twincest 😭)

Also, King’s Landing is soooo beautiful!

*squeals in Jaime-gasm*

ah...ahaha... He’s so hot i’m STOP LOOKING AT CERSEI JUST STOP STOP STOP IF HE MAKES ANY SORT OF LOOK OF LOVE AT HER I’M GONNA LOSE MY APPETITE.

Oomf me ser why is he so hot my GOD BRIENNE IS SO LUCKY 🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵 KBDJDVSIBSJDBDKDBDKDNKDBDKDNDKNDKDBDJDBKDBDNDBDNDBDJD

Okay but in all seriousness, who died? *Opens character guide* ohhh ok idc abt him lol

I was about to press play but...I just wanna appreciate Jaime for a moment. You know? Just...the outfit is...damn.

Also idk if i’m ready for this conversation between Jaime and Cersei. PLAY—

HE LOOKED AT HER WITH KINDA HEART EYES AND LOVING SMIRK (VER. ONE) I’M—

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

I had to pause. Idk if i’m ready to proceed. Props to Nik tho bcs damn he knows how to do heart eyes. That’s not easy.

Ok ok ok I just need to get this over with and watch it.

OHHHHHHHHHH THEY THOUGHT JON ARRYN MIGHT’VE LEARNED ABT THEM FU—FUCK—FUCKING!

Issa raven~

Cat! ❤️❤️

Oop is this actually the episode where Bran gets pushed out of a tower? I hope not cuz oof that would suuuuuuuuuck

But also foreshadowing~~~~~~ hot damn if he hadn’t climbed a lotta shit wouldn’t have gone down... Woah.......... Holy crap...

Heyyyyyyy Joffrey!

Oh shit Sansa’s got a crush on the wrong guy.

Skksks Arya turned into Aya sk

Hot damn helmet hair is too sexy. Maybe i’ll just...leave it pause...right here...

No one should be allowed to be this sexy. No one.

Teehee I made a reaction pic lol

Jaime, sister-fucker: Tyrion, I’m disappointed in you for having sex with a whore even though you’re not related.

Tyrion: -_- right. Okay. Fuck off. I love you.

lmao their relationship is really cool

My mom came in the room to talk to me and she was like, “He [Jaime] looks like a shithead.” AND THEN I MENTIONED SHREK’S PRINCE CHARMING AND SHE WAS LIKE

I REMEMBER HIM AND THEY TOTALLY LOOK SIMILAR MAYBE THAT’S WHY I THINK HE’S A SHITHEAD

BSKBDODHDJ I’M DEAD DECEASED GONE LMFAO

This Jaime is peak shithead energy lmao

BWHAHAHA that wasn’t what I expected at all didhjdhd Jaime is kind but he’s closed himself off to everyone but Tyrion 🥺🥺 poor baby 🥺🥺 even Cersei doesn’t know his true self...

God I love this show already WHY DID IT HAVE TO BE RUINED WTF

i have since rescinded my previous statement FUCK why do i care so much...

Lyanna 🥺💕💕

Dany! She’s so pretty! *Bisexual mode activated*

Unnecessary boobage And why is there MORE incest vibes?????? WTF????? 🤦🏻‍♀️🤦🏻‍♀️

Oh, Dany i’m sorry for everything that’s happened and will happen... 😔

Wait—wait lol Sansa’s only thirteen? I THOUGHT SHE WAS LIKE MY AGE AT LEAST HOLY COW WHY’S EVERONE SO FUCKIN’ YOUNG????

I feel old now lmfao

Lol they really did make Joffrey seem nice, didn’t they?

Oomf me ser UM—right, Jaime’s back, just as hot as always—I mean...

Ned Stark with the great comeback! Jaime Lannister with the sexiest smile of the century!

HAJSHKEBE Arya and Sansa are legit me and my sister. I’m Sansa and my sister’s Arya ksksbdkdb

OH SHIT! OH SHIT LYSA KNOWS WHAT HAPPENED OH SHIT oh ohhh ohhhhhh not good

Oh no Ned...

On another topic, I did this bdjndkdjdjdn

I’m tempted to rewind to Jaime & Ned’s convo just to make another reaction picture... I don’t wanna forget so imma do it now skskks

Here’s the pic:

Wait fuck he was already making heart eyes why did I cover them up

Oh, Dany... I’m so so so so so so sorry. But now she has the dragon eggs, at least.

Bye bye Ned :’(

OMG BRAN’S CLIMBING THE TOWER EYE—I WANT TO VOMIT GOD I’M SUPPOSED TO EAT DINNER RN BUT I CAN’T BECAUSE THAT’S VILE AND DISGUSTING AND ABHORRENT AND—

Ok but the fact that they don’t sound into it makes it a bit better. Only a bit. I don’t think I can eat my Mac n Cheese for a while tho. And I love Mac n Cheese :’(

Bran’s too young for this!

Idk if I can play it...no idk I just no no no no Jaime......... 😔☹️😨😰😖😵🤢🤮🤒

OH MY GOD JAIME YOU ARROGANT, SISTER-FUCKING, KING-SLAYING, BRIENNE-MOCKING, BRIENNE-HURTING, BOY-CRIPPLING, MOTHERFUCKING BASTARD-ASS PSYCHO HOW COULD YOU TRICK HIM LIKE THAT YOU FUCKING MONSTER!

Sorry, Ser Dad, but idk if i’ll be able to look at you for an hour or so

These can go in the trash. Bye. I WANT SEASON 2+ JAIME CUZ THIS ONE SUCKS ASS

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lunanoirre · 3 years

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Episodes 11, 12, and 13

Ok, it has been a hot minute!!!

Merry late Christmas and Happy Holidays to all, and since the 19th of this month has passed, I am now 19!!!!

I am still the same ol’ dumbass reviewing Supernatural in 2020 though, so let’s get this show on the road!

Episode 11, the episode which I forgot that I watched. Not to say that it wasn’t a good episode!!! It was, and it scared the shit outta me.

The scarecrow design looks eerily like the one in the OG prints of Scary Stories To Tell In The Dark, and that—.... Horrifies me. So that was awesome!

But, unfortunately, this episode finally shows the boys getting into contact with their father again, and I really did not like it!

I mean, calling up your KIDS at complete random, when they’re worried sick about you, beebopping around America looking for YOU, and just???? Barking more orders at them??? Forcing them back into a job??? I mean, no wonder Sam got sick of this shit, and left for Cali to try and find John himself.

And poor, poor Dean... I really hate watching him bend over backwards to please their dad, and this is the worst example so far.

At least this episode showed how much these brothers need each other to continue this job successfully, which is wholesome yet sad. Siblings shouldn’t be forced to become codependent for survival.

Oh. And what the fuck was with the hitchhiker lady Sam met???????

Of course that hasn’t been answered yet, smfh.

Episode 12 didn’t... really have much in terms of character development???

OH WAIT NO!

This episode shows just how much Dean doesn’t value his own life! Mmm, Christmas fun!

But seriously, an episode about a Grim Reaper that looks like one of the Silence from Doctor Who, was interesting. Well... Interesting until Dean started insinuating that his life wasn’t worth as much as the girl with the brain tumor.

I’m just...

GOD!!!!

Spn, please stop milking me of my empathy for Dean???

Though, this would have been more impactful if his disability lasted more than 3 minutes.

I understand that Sam desperately wanted to get him better, since a prognosis of a week to a few months was visibly tearing poor Sammy to shreds inside...

But...

Rectifying the illness within 3 seconds of introducing it... killed the oomf this event would have held if left to marinate.

Yes, yes, I know, Season 1 still has the monster of the week type vibes and all and it doesn’t yet feel comfortable enough to dive into these inner issues... But it’s just???? Y’know, an odd choice at minimum.

Though it punched me in the gut to hear Dean speak so lowly about himself in regards to the fact that he... admits that he doesn’t feel like he’s worthy of living?

And that hit hard, as someone who has struggled with those sorts of thoughts. The worst part is that nothing really rose to challenge his opinion on that. Not even Sam decided to combat the way he was speaking.

And the fact that he didn’t even fight the Reaper, knowing that he was risking death??? Entirely because he felt like it would save someone who was worth more than him???

GOD.... I am GOING to cry.

And episode 13 was even sadder!!!

Exploring Dean’s first love seemed like it would have been fun... Until he started expressing the fact that he regrets opening up to Cassie. Because Cassie immediately interpreted his truth as an elaborate lie to break things off with her.

😐

Now, I’m not saying Cassie is abusive. She is not (I honestly love her SO MUCH!!!!!!!!!!), and her reaction to hearing that he was a professional ghoul hunter was completely rational.

But!

Hearing that this event caused Dean to shut himself off even further... Hurts me???? Because I know how that feels.

I know how it feels to feel the need to hide integral parts of yourself because they’re abnormal, and you know most people wouldn’t react well to it. I know that pain.

So it kinda felt like a slap in the face to see that Dean’s hurt was kinda... pushed aside in favor of make-up sex??? I mean... being on the asexual spectrum myself, I cannot imagine doing something like that anyway, even if the partner was a beloved ex... But with my bias aside, it still felt wrong.

Neither of them are in the wrong per se... Although, the fact that Cassie seemed kinda aggressive when apologizing to Dean about the hurt he was hiding also rubbed me the wrong way. She knows that he hides his inner feelings, so spitting on them like that was the obvious wrong step, but since they’re straight, make-up sex makes everything better right?? 🤪🤪🤪

The answer is no, no it doesn’t. I liked the shirtless Dean fanservice though.

GOD he’s attractive....

But, aside from that, I was glad to see Dean enjoy himself a bit, and be a little vulnerable.

For god’s sake, it’s such a big deal that he told Cassie anything!!!!! It’s just such a shame that she took his confession the wrong way... That, and she point blank told him that she couldn’t see things working out in the end.

Annnnndddddddd I’m sure Cassie won’t reappear anytime soon, if at all... which is sad.

I really do like her!!!

Now, onto episodes 20 and beyond!

Man, a couple more episodes and I’m into season 2...

EDIT:

oh. My GODD HOW DID I FORGET TO MENTION THE FUCKING RACIST TRUCK??????

I DID NOT EXPECT THE RACIST TRUCK TO APPEAR SO SOON?????

#supernatural #spn analysis #spn season 1 #spnfandom #dean winchester #sam winchester #john winchester #jensen ackles #jared padalecki #I JUST FOUND OUT THAT JOHN WINCHESTER’S ACTOR WENT ON TO PLAY NEGAN IN THE WALKING DEAD????#I don’t like the walking dead but like. I Did like Negan whenever I caught it with my dad so—

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tangled23works · 4 years

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Way Down We Go Pt 2

Read on Ao3

or keep reading here:

The emergency lights kicked lending the space an ethereal glow. Under other circumstances it would be considered romantic. If they didn't mean that she was now trapped in a metal box with Starling City's prodigal son. Her glasses had fallen off somewhere but she had to untangle herself from Oliver Queen in order to find them. Felicity gasped as she tried to get up. This however meant that she had to put more weight on the Mayor’s body. Needless to say, she ended up touching him in places other women would beg to touch.

“Why are you so hard?” she asked trying to figure out if he was really as much a fitness freak as the tabloids reported.

He made a weird noise like he was choking. Felicity looked at him perplexed as she finally located her discarded glasses behind his head and put them on. Then she replayed her last words in her mind.

“Oh!”

Mayor Queen just pressed a hand to his mouth. Felicity began a heartfelt - if somewhat - incoherent apology before she realized that he wasn’t mortified. Nope. The bastard was actually laughing.

“Oomf, let me get up, you..." She struggled to find an appropriate insult, "You’re so immature Mr. Thick Thickety Thickface!”

“What did you call me?”

He hadn’t stopped laughing and his blue eyes were sparkling with amusement and mischief.

“Thickface. You know. Like from Doctor Who.”

“Who?”

“For TARDIS’s sake, I’m stuck in an elevator with a man who hasn’t even heard of Doctor Who.”

She paused for a second looking around. She was actually stuck in there, wasn’t she? Odd, she hadn't considered herself claustrophobic but the fact that she was closed-in and had no way to escape made her hyperventilate. Felicity tried to get a deep breath but realized she couldn’t. Being familiar with panic attacks since her college days didn't mean she could easily defeat them. She hugged herself and backed away.

“What’s wrong?”

He sounded completely serious now. He was even using his mayoral voice. It was deep, full of concern and really attractive, not that she would ever tell him that.

“I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s the matter.”

“We’re stuck here, you dufus! And I just realized something. I think I’m afraid of narrow cramped spaces.”

“You think?”

“Fine. I know I’m afraid. Happy?”

He muttered something unintelligible and pulled out a slick iPhone. Technology! Felicity had left all her things at the office but surely he hadn’t. Why hadn’t she thought of that? Instead she had gone from insulting the Mayor to panicking in front of him.

Great, Felicity. Just great.

Relief flooded her body and she sat down in the corner. She might as well get comfortable while waiting for rescue. Judging by his ‘hello’ the Mayor managed to get somebody on the line. Probably poor Denise who was the most efficient person Felicity had ever met. Which was good because it meant that their time together was coming to an end. Quite literally since this was Felicity’s last day on the job.

“How soon can you get us out of here?”

Whatever the other person’s reply was, he didn’t look pleased.

“Fine,” he said and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Can you call Makayla and warn her? Tell her she can wait at the loft. I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

Felicity grimaced. Of course he had a date. It was Friday night, the man was single and half of Starling was in love with him. Women must wait in queues for the chance to go out with the mayor. Makayla must be a supermodel or influencer. Or perhaps a youtuber? Felicity shuddered at the thought.

While she had been pondering Makayla's profession, he had put the phone back in his pocket and he didn’t look happy.

“So, we’re not leaving anytime soon huh?”

“Unfortunately, no.” He rolled his shoulders and crossed his ankles. “Do you still feel anxious?”

“Don’t talk about that! I’m fine talking literally about anything else. Just don’t remind me-”

“That you’re stuck in an elevator with me. I heard.”

His voice wasn’t that soft now. He actually sounded prissy. Felicity had to admit that she hadn’t been very welcoming in the past but she had a good reason for that. Also, she never said that she minded being trapped with him specifically.

She cleared her throat. “It’s better that you’re here to be honest. It would have been so much worse if I had been stuck all by myself.”

He stared at her in surprise. “Do you know that’s the first kind thing you have ever said to me, Miss Smoak?”

Felicity smoothed her polka dot dress to avoid looking at him. “Umm, you can call me Felicity you know. After all, I already called you a dufus and a thickface.”

He smiled. And not his fake ‘everything will be okay’ politician’s smile but a real one. She could tell from the way his eyes crinkled at the corners and an adorable dimple appeared on his face. Felicity smiled back feeling absurdly pleased.

“And you can call me Oliver, Felicity. I prefer it to dufus anyway.”

She almost shook his hand but since she had been working at City Hall for more than two years it would be totally crazy.

“Just keep talking to me, Oliver. So that I don’t panic again.”

He loosened his tie and considered her.

“Shall we play a game?”

Felicity gave him a sideways glance. It wouldn’t do to forget that this man was a notorious playboy.

“What kind of game?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.

He lifted his arms in surrender. “Hey, I live with an eleven-year-old these days. We play guessing games in the car to school so that he doesn't get bored. What did you think I was talking about?”

Felicity winced. She had put her foot in her mouth. Again. People tended to disregard the fact that he was the father of a young boy and not the man who frequented Verdant, getting drunk and sleeping with pretty socialites. Apparently she was guilty of making the same mistake.

“How about twenty questions? I would suggest ‘I spy’ but we would be done in about thirty seconds in here.”

Oliver flashed her a half-smile and nodded. “Me first.” He was quiet for a few moments. “What is Doctor Who?”

Felicity tsked. “Your knowledge of popular culture is sorely lacking if you don’t know the answer to that. Doctor Who is a British science fiction show. It would take me years to properly explain it because it’s been running since 1963.”

“1963?” he asked, full of awe.

Felicity giggled at his expression. “Fans of the show are called whovians.”

“Now you’re pulling my leg.”

“Nope.” She couldn’t help but add, “There is a time machine on the show. Also, aliens and monsters.”

“And I thought that Keeping Up With The Kardashians is the weirdest thing on TV.”

“You don’t know Doctor Who but you know the Kardashians?”

He laughed openly at her outrage. “Your turn, Felicity.”

“They say you have a tattoo. True or false?”

“True.”

“Where? What is it?” Felicity had always been fascinated by tattoos. She was too afraid of needles to ever consider getting one herself but the thought that Starling City’s mayor was hiding a tattoo underneath those Armani suits… It was hot. Undeniably hot.

“The one they’re talking about is on my left shoulder. It’s a dragon.”

“You got more than one?”

“Yes.”

“Curiouser and curiouser!”

“That I recognize. It’s from Alice in Wonderland, right?”

Felicity was surprised he recognized that iconic line. “Your son likes fairytales?”

“No. Thea went through a whole fairytale phase when she was little. Mom had to read her this one for a bedtime story everyday for a year. We had Alice in Wonderland tea parties and I was always the Mad Hatter.”

She tried to picture him wearing a top hat and sipping from a delicate teacup and failed. The man the city had voted as mayor two years ago was too serious and too sexy to play dress up with a little girl. Although the fact that he was willing to do that for his sister earned him a lot of brownie points.

“Are there incriminating pictures?”

“No.” He answered so quickly that his denial had to be a lie. “That was your fifth question, Felicity. It’s my turn now.”

“Ugh, fine.”

“You’d rather be the one asking the questions, wouldn’t you?”

“I can’t help it. You’re kind of intriguing.”

“Yes,” he said, accepting the compliment because it was true, “but it’s more than that.”

“I’m not that interesting, Oliver.”

“I beg to differ. You’re very interesting. And you owe me three more questions before it’s your turn again.”

Wrinkling her nose, she crossed her arms and silently gave him permission to go ahead.

“Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

“Mr. Mayor that is the most boring question in the history of this game.”

“Humor me, Felicity. You know everything about my family,” his voice slightly mocking, “but I know nothing about yours.”

“Well, since you told me about your Alice in Wonderland tea parties…” she began. Oliver chuckled in a way that showed he enjoyed her teasing so she went on, “I have no siblings. That I know of.”

He tilted his head and a furrow appeared on his forehead. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“That’s a story for another time.”

She thought that her refusal to answer the question would bring a hundred more. But she should have known that being a Queen meant that he had spent most of his life avoiding noisy people and indiscreet questions.

“What’s your favorite color?”

“Blue. Red. It depends on the day. Yours?”

“Green. But it’s still my turn, Felicity.”

“Okay, okay.”

“What is your favorite superhero?”

“The Green Arrow.”

“Who?”

“Really, Oliver? You haven’t heard of the Emerald Archer?”

And as he shook his head she proceeded to tell him the story of one of the most underappreciated superheroes of all time. At least in her opinion.

What followed was the most comfortable and fun conversation she had ever had with a man. She tried (and failed) to educate him about Marvel and DC. He tried (and miserably failed) to educate her about sports and his favorite team, the Blue Jays. Who would have thought that the guy she had been avoiding like the plague was so easy to talk to? Most of all she was impressed by the way he was able to laugh at himself and his previous lifestyle. He answered everything she threw at him (even the one about the infamous cop incident) and she purposefully stayed away from questions revolving around his son. Since he had respected her privacy before, it was no hardship for her to respect his. They discussed everything you were supposed to talk about on a first date but without the pressure and sweating that usually accompanied first dates. Felicity felt free to be herself without worrying about being too awkward or annoying.

Oliver glanced at his watch. “I think the fire department will be here soon.”

“Oh, right.” Felicity hadn’t even thought of the time for the past twenty minutes.

“Can I ask you something personal?”

“Okay,” she replied, feeling a bit apprehensive.

“Is this really your last day? You’re leaving us?”

Felicity gulped and nodded.

“Are you going to start your own company or something?”

She pressed her lips into a thin line.

“No. Actually, I got an offer from PalmerTech.”

He scoffed. “Ray Palmer?”

She crossed her arms defensively. “What’s wrong with Ray Palmer? He’s a good guy and a wonderful boss. Not to mention that his company is on the top of Fortune 500.”

He removed his jacket with a little bit more violence than the action required. “He’s a douche, Felicity. Plain and simple. Did you know that last month he approached me about renaming the city? As if we would change the name of a whole city just because Ray thinks Star City sounds more modern than Starling?”

“Star City is not a bad suggestion.”

He ran a hand through his hair and glowered at her. “Do you know what a starling is?”

“Sure. It’s a bird.”

“History says that there were no starlings in the United States until a man released 60 of them in Central Park back in the 1900s. According to legend, a shepherd was walking across a field when he heard someone calling for help. He ran towards the voice but couldn’t see anyone. Then the voice called to him from the top of a tree. It was a small bird who could speak like a human. She claimed-”

“The bird was a woman?” Felicity asked, fascinated.

“Of course it was a woman. Wouldn’t be much of a legend otherwise. Anyway, the woman said that her name was Jocelyn and that an evil queen had cursed her to become a bird when she had refused to marry her son. The problem was that the son was the Devil himself.”

“If the Devil looked like Lucifer she wouldn't have said no.”

Oliver didn't pay attention to her irreverence and went on, “So the hero promised to fight the Devil himself and the evil queen for her. He only asked for one thing in return.”

“Let me guess. She had to marry the shepherd when the fight was over.”

“Correct.” Oliver rolled his sleeves up, totally derailing Felicity’s train of thought. There was a vein running along his forearm which drew her gaze like a magnet. “Once they had an agreement, he tapped the ground twice with his crook. It opened to reveal a downwards path leading to the gates of Hell. While the little starling was waiting, the shepherd went down the path and entered Hell. He didn’t return for 320 days.”

“Should have been named Penelope and not Jocelyn,” Felicity muttered.

Oliver let out a startled laugh but continued with the story. “Of course, he came back victorious and proud of himself. The little bird was free and was now a beautiful woman. She married him and they spent the rest of their days raising a family here and building a town called Starling to commemorate the way they met.”

Felicity scrunched her nose. “It’s not a bad story.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what is the point, Mr. Mayor?”

“That we come from somewhere. Our city may not be old itself but it is deeply rooted in history. We don’t want to forget that, Felicity. Forgetting where you come from means you’ll eventually forget where you are headed.”

She didn’t say anything out loud but his words had hit a nerve. Wasn’t she guilty of that? Hadn’t she moved a thousand miles away from Cambridge just to avoid the past? Wasn’t she doing the exact same thing every time a man asked her out? She exhaled slowly, suddenly feeling very disappointed in herself.

“I didn’t tell you the story to make you sad, Felicity.”

She peered at him over her glasses. “It’s not your fault. It’s just… Having an epiphany while being trapped in an elevator sucks.”

Oliver gave her another one of his genuine smiles.

“Anyway, I’ll make sure to tell Ray that our city doesn’t need a name change.”

He ignored her comment. “Did you have big plans for tonight? Seeing that this was your last day working here.”

“Big Belly and red wine.”

"I have never tried Big Belly burger," he confessed.

"But you must! The moment we're out of here you should ask Mr. Diggle to take you. It's in the Glades though and I know that the previous Mayor rarely ventured there but you have to try it at least once. It's full of grease and salt."

"Ah, the secret ingredients," he teased.

Felicity laughed. "What about you? Do you have any big plans for tonight?" she asked even though she wasn't sure she wanted to know more about his date with Makayla, the supermodel.

“My son has,” he stole a glance at his watch again, “well, had to present a science project this evening. I was supposed to be there for him.”

“I’m sorry.” An inadequate sentiment but she meant it.

“It’s okay. He’s used to being disappointed by his parents.”

The offhand comment prickled her curiosity. "What does that mean exactly?"

"You've heard the story. My family paid Samantha - William's mother - a lot of money to disappear. And she did for about ten years."

"But she's back now, isn't she? You live with William after all."

"Samantha decided that she had enough of being a single parent. Last year she left William with me and moved to Central City. She visits him every other weekend."

There was more to it of course. Felicity thought over his words. He didn't say that he paid Samantha Clayton, he said that his family paid her. The press considered it the same thing, but the distinction was important to Felicity. Also, the fact that the boy's mother had chosen to abandon her child with a father he barely knew was incomprehensible. Fathers were the ones who were not reliable based on her experience. People could count on their mothers to always be there. Come hell or high water.

One thing was for sure. She had grossly misjudged Oliver Queen.

#olicity fanfic #way down we go #part 2 #my fic updates #elevator trope #stay safe people #and keep reading

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