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dxxtruction · 18 hours

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"Louis acting like a pimp to Armand" And what is a pimp exactly? Quickly. And, oh so sexual trauma survivors can't engage in kink now without it being all about that? Pet names? They can't be submissive anymore? Consensually? Sexually healthy? Be serious. I'd hardly say there's much power difference between them during all this anyway, except that Louis is freer than Armand and it's been putting a strain on their relationship. Louis wants more from Armand, and less of this 'being his past' for them both, and so helping Armand with this could fix that. It's healthy to want to help your partners get out of a rough patch?

I mean, the whole exchange was very clearly set up as a "I want to help you" after such a great moment of vulnerability Louis feels just how much Armand is desperate for it. Louis called Armand so they could work out a plan together.

And the bit with the umbrella was Louis' way of asking 'are you willing to listen to me?' and Armand said yes by unfolding it. Louis goes on and explains, Armand is allowed to argue against it, but Louis makes his point. And then he gives Armand a way to make his own choice in it too. Armand's already decided 'I want you, more than anything else in the world', but Louis still asks after if he's sure of his choice, and with a name, Arun, that is the one of his fullest agency, running the point home. Honoring the situation Armand calls Louis Maitre - as a way of being like 'I'll do as you've said then'. To make this work he's going to have to give Louis some of the control, yes. But it's the first time such a role is ever established, and it was his choice to do it. So so what if they do it in a very suggestive way? They can't like doing that? I think it's them having fun.

I struggle to find how Louis is being overly domineering here when really he's giving and offering Armand the most agency he's ever had. Same with finding it manipulative. The manipulation was more earlier in the episode I think, when he was stringing him along, giving mixed signals. He's no longer toying with him like that. Louis might be pushing Armand, leading him on to make a decision, but he doesn't mean bad by it.

But back to this pimp thing. I find it frankly offensive that this is where people are going with this. I get it, but to run with it being the case is, on many levels, wrong.

Louis told us episode 1 this was the only sustainable line of work to support his family and keep their standing, at the time. It was never his choice to be doing this either but his blackness allowed no other options. He did what he did so his family could stay in that house and maintain all their same comforts. It gave him privileges most black men didn't have at the time that he wanted to maintain and even have more of. Anyway, it doesn't and had never defined him the way 'being good at running things' had. And in that case he just likes having that kind of control where he can get it, which makes sense.

The world is what placed that kind of role onto him of what he was allowed to be able to run, not himself. And on that he actually treated the sex workers he employed well and respected them enough to give them more opportunity.** He recognizes they don't have much in the way of options either.

Louis employed sex workers, yes, but he didn't subject them to abuse, (like how Armand was)*. He didn't oversee things in a way that would go against their consent (see; episode 1 again)**. Sometimes a job is just a job. And Sex work is work.

Armand's particular past with sexual abuses may strike a particular cord with Louis, given all that, but the very last thing either is thinking is that Louis' pimping Armand out here. This is merely their decision as companions, and had nothing to do with adding another line in a laundry list of selling Armands body out to people at the command of someone else. Armand rescinds some of his control to Louis' wishes, because he wants him, and he trusts him, that's all.

If you aren't allowing Armand that choice, and are doubtful it's fully his, you're putting him right back in the box of being defined by his abuses. Putting him back into that space where he isn't given any agency over what he does.

*: (edit) added for clarity.

**: (strike through) numerous people are saying I'm misremembering these points so disregard it. (Thought he was siding with Bricks, it was the other way around). (Technically those opportunities were for getting around the law). I don't have a perfect memory, it happens. Let's not get mad about it. Doesn't change much of the point which is that Louis, now, Louis then, was always considering more about the running things. So I guess I'd say he may only have respected the SWers enough for what allowed him to do that, but he has a great deal higher respect for Armand that is genuine. It's incomparable. Please read my added notes in the tags, I put those in not long after uploading several hours ago as of typing this. It should address most concerns.

#amc iwtv #iwtv spoilers #iwtv season 2 #Loumand #louis du pointe du lac #armand #interview with the vampire #IWTV #Many people are ranting about this but I'm throwing my hat in too #anyway stop infantilizing him its weird #signed someone who went through csa and is close friends with many swers #long rant #noticing spelling errors in this after posting ffff #added note: I'm not saying armand and louis dynamic is without it's flaws or that louis was somehow without his exploitation and faults #while he was a pimp #as a pimp though he certainly wasn't going about it in the same way as what had happened in the brothel or with marius #I more so mean that their very actions are of a healthier dynamic than that even if they themselves are not exactly so #And if you want to still run with this pimp like thing being there you have to also admit it's what's desired by them both yk?#If so then healthy or not for their relationship that's how it is #all for everyone being nasty freaks and all the messed up relationships everywhere #But I still don't see it as that exactly I wouldn't call it that there's just a bit of that dominance that man in charge kind of thing #It seems that way cause neither want to be tethered to the roles they've been playing previously they aren't entirely different for it but #are still arriving to this idea of something new to define themselves by something they both want #This companionship that they're still trying to get a feel for #we as an audience might know they never do fully work their shit out and so are doomed but they don't at that point #last thing i guess is that I am not here to police what people wanna think about characters it's fictional and not that serious 4 me 2 care #I caution using this idea of it being like pimping for reasons above but don't wanna enforce anything #These are just my thoughts

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ariaste · 3 hours

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[gets out guitar case to busk on the streetcorner a bit]

Hello friends! I am Alexandra Rowland, a queer fantasy author of some books you might have read in the Chantiverse (including: A Taste of Gold and Iron, A Conspiracy of Truths, Running Close to the Wind, Some By Virtue Fall, etc).

Over the past few months, my Patreon income has fallen by about a third (no shame to my patrons, sometimes financial situations change!). I do Patreon a little differently from most people, because I know that the amount of support that people pledge isn't based on how much they value me and my work, it's about how much they personally can afford that month. For some people, giving one dollar is as impactful on their finances as giving ten dollars would be to someone else -- in either case, even though the monetary amount is different, the amount of generosity and kindness in the gesture is equal. Therefore, I don't restrict access to my works based on tiers of support: Everyone gets access to everything, regardless of how much they've pledged. It just doesn't seem fair to do it any other way and implicitly "punish" people for not being able to afford more. And those one-dollar-a-month pledges REALLY stack up.

Currently on Patreon there is a great backlog of sneak peeks of my WIPs, including everything that currently exists of my next book, Yield Under Great Persuasion (a queer fantasy romance between a prickly tea shop owner named Tam and his childhood nemesis, Lord Lyford, who he definitely isn't in love with; it's got nosy busybody gods who refuse mind their own business, vegetable-related dick jokes, a supposed-to-be-epic quest to the mountains to capture the Ram of the Highlands, and reflections on the fact that sometimes apologies aren't good enough, the struggle towards personal growth, and how to learn to love yourself enough to allow other people to love you too). I also do tarot readings from time to time, and supporting me on Patreon also gets you access to a secret channel in my Discord server.

If you love my books and my nonsense on tumblr and you'd like me to continue doing those things... Here's the link, and I'd be really grateful for your support (and for any signal boosting!) 🙏 Thank you!!!

#alexandra rowland #a taste of gold and iron #chantiverse #patreon #support artists #writers on tumblr #books #booklr #lgbt

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sibylsleaves · 3 days

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This isn't a Buddie established relationship ask so feel free to ignore this but I'm curious...what do you see Buck and Tommy eventually breaking up over? Or what would you want them to break up over?

anon do you want to get me killed

no, i'm totally kidding, this is an interesting question! and im sure everyone is going to be completely normal about me answering it right guys

(under a cut for length)

I think if I'm being super honest, my #1 choice would be Eddie. Both for Buddie reasons and for established narrative reasons--Eddie has been haunting the narrative of BuckTommy, so to speak, since the beginning and it makes a lot of sense to me that it would come back around to him in the end. In 7x04, Tommy says it was "never his intention" to come between Eddie and Buck. He also says Buck "isn't the only one" who can get jealous. In 7x05, Eddie says "this doesn't change a thing between us." Maddie in 7x05 also says that line about "if there's something you need to tell Eddie, you will in your own time."

Right now these are just lines that mean what they mean at face value BUT they are also ripe with potential to be foreshadowing for an eventual break-up/Buddie feelings realization arc. I do think the Bi Buck arc/Tommy arc in general is an excellent catalyst for Buddie feelings realization because. well. it DOES change the equation in a fundamental way. And it's like. slow burn romance 101 to have one character pining over the other while they're in a relationship, so. the stage has been set.

But what form that takes exactly, idk. If I'm the one in charge, I think I'd want Eddie feelings realization -> pining while Buck is with Tommy -> separate Buck feelings realization -> break up with Tommy -> mutual pining for a while -> eventual Buck confession -> they get together. With like some more messy fun things thrown into the mix idk.

I'm less enthused but still intrigued by a Tommy realizes BEFORE Buck arc leading to a break up. I think it makes sense as an echo of Buck's bi realization--Tommy was the catalyst there and it wasn't until he kissed Buck that Buck came to terms with his feeling so I do like the narrative parallels there.

But from a character perspective I think I just really want Buck to get there on his own because one of his prevailing character flaws is that he just kinda...does not know what he's doing or what's happening in his brain ever. He says to Connor and Kameron in season 6 that he "doesn't know what he wants." and in 7x05 he says to Tommy he "doesn't know what he's ready for." And Maddie says in 7x05 that Buck "isn't sure of his own feelings yet." So. I'd like to see a growth where he IS sure of his feelings, where he DOES know what he wants and what he's ready for, and is able to take the initiative and be the one to break things off with Tommy (learning from his mistakes with Taylor/Lucy).

If it's not Eddie (or perhaps Eddie is just PART of the equation) then I think it could go a couple different routes. Route 1 would be a fundamental incompatibility, something like...idk. Tommy not really taking Buck seriously as a partner. This would kind of harken back to their first date (and also to Buck's relationship with Abby) and Tommy cutting out because he thinks Buck "isn't ready."

Or maybe they break up because they don't want the same things in life. I've said it before with other Buck relationships on the show but I would actually love to see an amicable break up because Buck wants kids and his partner doesn't. As Buck gets older, I REALLY would love for the show to really delve into his desire for family/kids, and this particular storyline I don't think I've ever seen portrayed. And it's a very normal reason for a couple to break up!

Or maybe Tommy has to move away for a Cool Helicopter Job and Buck contemplates moving with him. Maybe he even decides he will. But then something Happens and at the last minute he realizes he can't leave his family and that his home is in LA and he has to let Tommy go. This would give me a lot of found family feelings so 🥺

Or maybe they end up together and there's no break up arc. Anything could happen tbh.

#sibyl answers #anon #thank you everyone for being totally super normal and cool about me having opinions that may or may not match your own opinions 😊#life is a rich tapestry

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writingquestionsanswered · 2 days

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Struggling to Focus on Plot vs Everything

Anonymous asked: I'm currently outlining (whilst still figuring out my plot and everything), but I keep getting sidetracked. My brain is trying to plant seeds to help me figure out the overall story, but it's distracting me from getting the main story line plotted out because instead I'm trying to come up with every possible scenario for why things happen. This method is exhausting, though, and I'd rather have a solid story line first, then flesh it out from there. Ultimately, I feel like I need to figure out my story's timeline and the main events, because I want that all sorted before I tackle how the characters experience it. It's just really overwhelming and when I try to pluck out the big pieces, they crumble into smaller pieces.

[Ask, and subsequent ask, edited for length and content]

So, if I understand correctly, it seems like part of you just wants to get down the actual plot of the story, but when you try, you end up delving into all these deeper background details?

What I'm thinking is this: if you're able to, I would start by doing what I think of as a "holistic summary" of your story... sort of like a brain dump but in general chronological order from beginning to end. It doesn't have to be perfect... you can backtrack, jump around a little, and go on tangents as needed. The point is to just get down as much of the story as you know... and as much as your brain will want to flesh out in real time... just to get it out of your head.

Sometimes, just getting it all out of your head on paper in one single container can help free up your brain to focus on the backbone of your story... the actual framework all of those details need to adhere to.

Another thing that might help, if you haven't done this already, is to look for a story structure template to help you tease out the story. There are loads of them out there from Save the Cat Writes a Novel! to Larry Brooks Story Structure, Three-Act Story Structure, the Snowflake Method, The Hero's Journey, Blake Snyder's Beat Sheet, Derek Murphy's 24 Chapter Outline, Gwen Hayes' Romancing the Beat, Shawn Coyne's Story Grid, The Seven Point Plot Structure, Dan Harmon's Story Circle, The Five-Act Structure, James Scott Bell's A Disturbance and Two Doorways, Kishōtenketsu Structure, Story Spine, and a bajillion others... The key to using a story structure template is to know it doesn't have to be followed exactly. They're not there as molds to cram your story into... they're more like "suggested itineraries" for a road trip. This is an ideal route with some popular stops along the way, but you may wish to alter the route slightly or make some different stops. Many writers actually use bits and pieces of different templates to suit their needs or the needs of their story.

Sometimes, just choosing a random template to tease out your main plot can be enough to help you see exactly what the main plot is, which makes all the other stuff fall into its proper place as character development, back story, and world building.

I hope this helps!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

♦ Questions that violate my ask policies will be deleted! ♦ Please see my master list of top posts before asking ♦ Learn more about WQA here

#wqaadvice

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theodorenmyth · 1 day

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HEART ANON BACK AGAIN! Okay so angst to fluff of Theodore and reader. Reader always had bad relationships in his past and he is just scared to get into another one. What he doesn’t know is that Theodore is like whipped for him and he is trying to show reader that he isn’t like the others. Some people try to tell Theodore it’s no use to try and court reader but he isn’t listening >:(. He wants reader to know that they will be able to love again and it just ends up with Theodore literally being very romantic and cheesy and reader falls for it lol.

-💕

Healing Hearts.

Pairings : Theodore Nott x M! Reader Summary : After a series of bad relationships, you're scared to love again, haunted by past heartbreaks. Theodore, endlessly patient and genuinely in love with you, is determined to prove that love doesn’t always end in pain. Despite warnings from others that it’s futile, Theodore persists, showing through kind words and gentle gestures that he’s different. Gradually, your walls begin to crumble, and with Theodore’s unwavering support, you start to believe in love again. As you spend a heartfelt afternoon together, you realize that with Theodore by your side, love might just be worth the risk. A/n : Enjoy (⁠・⁠∀⁠・⁠) Warnings) : Nothing! Word count : 1k+

You sit on the Hogsmeade bench, lost in your own thoughts, the warm summer breeze gently rustling the leaves overhead. It's been a while since you've allowed yourself to relax like this, to just be alone with your thoughts. Relationships have always been a sore spot for you, a series of disappointments and heartaches that have left you wary of letting anyone else in.

But then there's Theodore. Sweet, kind, and endlessly patient Theodore. He's been a constant presence in your life lately, always there with a kind word or a comforting gesture when you need it most. You're not quite sure what to make of him, if you're being honest. He's different from anyone else you've ever met, and that scares you more than you'd care to admit.

Lost in your thoughts, you don't notice Theodore approaching until he's sitting beside you on the bench, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips.

"Hey there," he says softly, his voice warm and inviting. "Mind if I join you?"

You shake your head, offering him a small smile of your own. "Not at all. What brings you out here?"

"Just wanted to see how you were doing," he replies, his gaze searching yours. "You seemed a little lost in thought."

You let out a small sigh, running a hand through your hair. "Just... thinking about stuff, I guess. You know how it is."

Theodore nods sympathetically, his expression softening. "Yeah, I do. Relationships can be tough sometimes."

You glance at him, surprised by his insight. "You've been there too?"

He nods, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah, I have. But I've learned that not all relationships are the same. Sometimes, it just takes finding the right person to show you that love doesn't always have to hurt."

You feel a pang of something stir in your chest at his words, a mixture of hope and fear warring within you. "And you think you're that person?"

Theodore's smile widens, his eyes sparkling with sincerity. "I'd like to think so, yeah. I care about you, more than I can put into words. And I want to show you that not all relationships have to end in heartbreak."

You feel your heart flutter in your chest at his confession, a warmth spreading through you that you haven't felt in a long time. Maybe, just maybe, Theodore is right. Maybe there's hope for you yet.

Before you can say anything else, Theodore reaches out and takes your hand in his, his touch gentle and reassuring. "I know it's scary, putting yourself out there again. But I promise you, I'll do everything I can to make sure you never regret giving love another chance."

You stare at him, overwhelmed by the sincerity in his eyes. For the first time in a long time, you allow yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, things will be different this time.

And as Theodore leans in to press a soft kiss to your lips, you can't help but think that maybe, just maybe, you've finally found someone worth taking a chance on.

As you lean into the kiss, the weight of your past relationships falls away, replaced by a warmth and a hope you haven't felt in years. Maybe Theodore is right. Maybe it's time to let go of the fear and embrace the possibility of love once again.

And as you wrap your arms around him, pulling him close, you know that no matter what happens, you'll always have Theodore by your side, ready to catch you if you fall. And for the first time in a long time, you believe that maybe, just maybe, everything is going to be okay.

Others would whispered behind your back, their voices dripping with doubt and skepticism. “Why bother?” they’d say, their words like poison seeping into Theodore’s resolve. “He’s not worth it.” but Theodore didn't care about other's opinions. He loves you and he knows it.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

You spend the afternoon with Theodore, walking through Hogsmeade hand in hand, lost in easy conversation and shared laughter. It feels so effortless, so natural, being with him. With each passing moment, your walls begin to crumble, the fear and uncertainty that have plagued you for so long slowly melting away.

As the sun begins to dip below the horizon, casting a warm golden glow over the park, you find yourselves sitting on a blanket beneath a sprawling oak tree, sharing a picnic dinner that Theodore had prepared.

"I hope you like it," he says, offering you a plate filled with an assortment of sandwiches, fruits, and pastries.

You take a bite of a sandwich, savoring the delicious flavors. "It's amazing," you reply, smiling gratefully at him. "Thank you for doing all of this."

Theodore returns your smile, his eyes softening with affection. "Anything for you," he says, reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair from your face.

You lean into his touch, feeling a warmth spread through you at his gentle caress. "You know," you say, your voice barely above a whisper, "I've never felt like this with anyone before. It's… different."

Theodore's smile widens, his eyes shining with emotion. "Different in a good way, I hope?"

You nod, a small laugh escaping your lips. "Definitely in a good way. You make me feel… safe, I guess. Like I can finally let my guard down and just be myself."

His smile softens, a warmth spreading through his chest at your words. "I'm glad to hear that," he says, his voice filled with sincerity. "Because that's all I want, for you to feel safe and loved and cherished. You deserve that, more than anyone I know."

You feel a lump form in your throat at his words, a rush of emotion threatening to overwhelm you. "Thank you," you whisper, your voice barely audible above the gentle rustle of the leaves overhead.

Theodore reaches out and takes your hand in his, his touch grounding you in a way you never thought possible. "No, thank you," he says, his gaze locking with yours. "For giving me a chance, for letting me show you that love doesn't have to be painful. For letting me be a part of your life."

You squeeze his hand, feeling a sense of gratitude wash over you. "I'm the one who should be thanking you," you say, your voice filled with emotion. "For showing me that it's okay to hope again, to believe that maybe, just maybe, love is worth fighting for."

And as you sit together beneath the fading light of the setting sun, surrounded by nothing but the gentle sounds of nature and the warmth of each other's presence, you know that no matter what the future holds, you'll always have Theodore by your side, guiding you through the darkness and into the light.

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brucewaynehater101 · 22 hours

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I think that Jorogomo Tim would very much enjoy the taste of flesh, on the condition that it's fresh. Anything older than a few hours tastes sour and rotten to him. The longer it has been dead, the worse it tastes. Especially if the body has had any Post Death chemicals used on it, those make it taste rancid. As for how Bruce feels on the matter, what he told Tim was, "there are a few mourges I can set you up with for whoever you buy from. You can get them some... bodies. That are post Autopsy and Funeral, but before they're buried." Tim just nodded along, even though the mere thought of eating a body that old, treated with that many chemicals nearly made him vomit on Bruce then and there.

As for Uncle Eddie, he was just some guy who was on Death Row that Tim had Vanish and with some hair dye and colored contacts, his puppet was a new man. After all, it's not really killing if he's going to die in 12 hours anyways, right? Tim even let him have his Last Meal! When Tim didn't need him anymore, he disposed of the body by consuming it. After all, this one is fresh!

I did have a few thoughts on how he would look. The two mental references I've been using are The Spider Queen from Lego Monkie Kid and Kumoko's form in their fight against Potimus during the last episode of I Reincarnated As A Spider, So What? But with different colors of course. I just love the idea that all his legs end in sharp points and the front two can be used as weapons while he wields his staff with his human arms.

I do have a question I would like to propose that could be interesting. What about Raven? Would she be able to sense that Tim is a demon? I doubt she would call him out on it infront of the others but when they are left alone together? Does she think he was sent by her father to torment her? Does she believe him when he says he wants a normal life?

Ooh! Conceptualizing his Jorogomo form is rad! It would be cool to see fanart of this, but I'd probably have to put a TW tag for those who have arachnophobia.

I'm really glad you explained away the Uncle Eddie aspect and your descriptions for Tim's palate.

Raven and Tim interacting because of Tim's type of creature (I feel that's worded wrong but can't think of another way) would be hella nice. I hope they get over that initial misunderstanding and chat about their similarities. I'm also curious about world building aspects with Raven's father and Tim being a Jorogomo

#dc comics #tim drake #dc universe #thank you for the ask!!!!#dc au #spider tim au

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blacklegsanjiii · 17 hours

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hi! i love reading about all of the au's you've done but I've really been enjoying the young!sanji and I was wondering if you could give us some head canons or just more stuff about him! your work is amazing and I hope you have a wonderful day or night!!

Young!Sanji is fun when you dive into the nitty gritty of it, by fun I mean uh...now everyone is realizing why Sanji acts childish sometimes.

Sanji, as we all know, doesn't have the best emotional regulation. The crew noticing Sanji swallowing every bit of emotion that isn't "productive" (happy, excited, fawning, protective) because he doesn't know how to. Zeff didn't really try to teach him because he treated him like the age he looked and not the age he was. And Judge wanted his kids to be emotionless monsters.

Sanji is seventeen, never played a day in his life, does most of the chores, does all the cooking, does watches and his crew after finding out how old he is have to form a plan to uh...not have him do all that. Robin is motherly so she takes the initiative as they're leaving to help Sanji more actively even if Sanji protests and refuses. Robin is helping him with dishes and he keeps insisting she go relax and she asks him when the last time somebody read to him was. He shrugs off the question with a 'he's too old for that' and a big smile. Robin argues she reads to Luffy who is older than him and Sanji just hunches his shoulders and when they finish up Robin takes him to the library and reads to him.

Zoro also starts telling him the kitchen is closed to him some days. Sanji huffs and Zoro tells him if everyone else gets days off so should he and he should go draw with Nami. Because Jinbei and Franky are handling the cooking. Sanji is then hauled to Nami, who is already up and has a seat set up next to her at the drawing table. Luffy's markers out as well as her drawing pens and she smiles at him and says to join her. He agrees, reluctant but thankful she's thinking of him. They draw for a while until Nami notices he's drawing the dishes he makes and while well done, not the goal.

"Why don't you try drawing something not related to cooking?" She asks. Sanji blinks at her as Nami shows him drawings of the crew she's done in a sketch book, of places they've been.

"I'm not as talented as you, Nami-Swan! I'd rather draw what I know." Sanji flatters as she frowns.

"That's not the point, Sanji. Don't flatter me just to put yourself down. We all got to act like kids before, except you. You should be able to act your age." Nami says.

"I.. don't know how. I've always been treated the age I look. After what happened with my family before Zeff, truthfully I don't want to know." Sanji responds.

"You're seventeen. Luffy became our captain at that age, he's nineteen now and look at him." Nami points out with a broad gesture. "We all got to be kids, what's so different about you? Why can't you be a kid even if it's a little late?"

"I literally don't know how. It's uncomfortable, I hate it. I'd rather go back to everyone thinking I'm twenty one again." Sanji mutters. Nami sighs heavily and looks at the boy beside her, drawing a bowl of pasta.

"Can you draw the All Blue for me?" She asks, Sanji gives her a look of confusion but does look as requested. The next day when he goes into the galley he sees it stuck on the fridge with magnets next to Luffy and Chopper's drawings and smiles to himself.

#young!sanji #cat burglar nami #one piece nami #black leg sanji #vinsmoke sanji #nico robin #devil child nico robin #roronoa zoro #one piece au #answers

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chaithetics · 2 days

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frothing at the mouth for any norm fics

Gaps of Sunlight

Pairing: Norm Maclean (Fallout) x f reader Word count: 4.5K Gif by @klausbens Warning: Barely proofread, pining, longing, maybe a little fluff and angst? a jab at Chet's weird crush, this is set before the events of Fallout S1 so some 'foreshadowing' I guess but doesn't have any spoilers! Mitski inspired! A/N: Ask and you shall receive 🙏(translation: thank you for enabling me!!!) This is my first time writing Norm and it's the most fun I've had with writing a fic in a long time! I feel like I'm a more descriptive writer and I haven't had an idea flow like this in quite a while. I feel like this is similar to 'Porce and the Shark' in terms of writing? Idk how well this flows as a story lol?!?! I've barely written any angst and I haven't really done any yearning, so I hope this is good! So please validate, I just felt like I was never going to finish or/fix it enough so I thought I'd post it as is. Thought about the queen of angst, @inknopewetrust's work a lot when I started writing this. Comments and reblogs are really appreciated 🫶

You lay in bed as you couldn’t help but think about it all. Once again. You could go outside to the corn fields but all that could offer you was a projection from a time and place well before you were even conceived as an idea. You’d never really know what the sunlight felt like, how it would heat your chin and what it would be like to bathe in that light. You had tried to live vicariously through that with what approved, classic literature had survived the war and through the vaults. Shakespeare didn’t offer you much beyond metaphors that were just out of your grasp with relatability to your environment, you hadn’t particularly enjoyed Chaucer, an opinion you’d kept from your father. While the Brontë sisters were able to perfectly let you know what rain in a different continent would’ve felt like against your face and how it would’ve smelt and made your shoes feel to run across an English countryside, they never enlightened you about what being bathed in sunlight would feel like. There were only so many times you could read and annotate Homer’s works awaiting a revelation.

Despite how everyone else moved around Vault 33, it was impossible for you to not help but wonder more of life. What it all was, and what it all meant.

You pull yourself out of a possible mental spiral and quickly get ready for the day as it eases on just as every other day does in the Vault. There’s breakfast with a pleasant conversation with your family, and you teach English classes to the youth of Vault 33, you participate in other extracurriculars just like most of the other Vault dwellers but teaching takes up the bulk of each of your days. You don’t mind that at all though, you enjoy it, even on days where everything feels like a complete rut. The mornings when the blue of the vault suits feels like too much, the pleasantries feel more like programming than authentic connections.

It had started like every other day and classes had happened accordingly, there was now the communal reprieve of lunch. As you slowly chew you look up and see him across the dining hall, despite being from the poster-perfect vault family, he’s Vault 33’s very own black sheep, Norman MacLean. He’s sitting there silently while his dad and Lucy are happily chatting away. Each taking turns trying to lure him into conversation, which he rejects each time with a quick, blink and you’ll miss it shake of his head. The same expression he always wears these days and has for years is etched onto his face, a chronic look of apathy.

You can’t help but stare at him for a moment, watching the way he looks on almost blankly. Even from across the room, you can see every thought in those brown doe eyes as if he’s saying them aloud. How is it that he’s still so misunderstood?

You’d grown up with Norm, he’d always been nice to you, even when you were at school. But that wasn’t exceptional, that was the whole thing with vault-dwellers, being nice people, even from a very young age. It’s not exactly a melting pot of cultures in the Vault like you know the surface once was but the culture is to be nice, chirpy, and practical.

Norm was nice, he had a quiet charm, he’d be a good politician, just in a different way and style as his father, he was practical but he didn’t have a cheery disposition. He lacked enthusiasm and at times it seemed to almost fascinate him how much that little rebellion could bother people. He didn’t put himself out there and you remember how he was smart, he knew answers to the questions that were asked but he’d never put his hand up for them.

It made you wonder at times if he was scared of his own voice. You feel your eyes squinting as you look at him wondering that question, as if studying his jawline for another minute or watching him lift his fork up to his mouth will tell you.

With a deep breath, you tilt your head discreetly to look around to see if anyone noticed your infatuated staring but nobody seems to. You still put a polite, chirpy smile on your face in case anyone did. That should be enough for anyone to notice anything your eyes might’ve been betraying.

Your mind still stays on him, because as always, you might see him better than anyone else but he is still a puzzle with pieces you have yet to find the corners to.

You’re sitting near the cornfield, trying to live vicariously in a world that’s not yours, one that will always be out of touch, just trapped into ink on a page and repeated for the ears of children, to fulfil a mission. But it’s his voice that pulls you out of the inner world of classical Greek horrors.

“Sunny day today.” He says as he looks down at you as you sit on the chair and look at his standing form. He says it as if it isn’t sunny every day with that projection meant to convince you of what the surface once knew and not instead fall flat and be more reminiscent of golden Hollywood-esque crops on sets of the films that have survived. Norm’s voice is quiet, he’s just as soft-spoken as you remember him being so long ago. His tone is bored, but it doesn’t deter you, how could it when he’s standing in front of you looking into your eyes?

He looks into your eyes, taking in the colour, worried that someday he could forget the flicks closest to your eyes. They might rearrange if he doesn’t look at them for another ten seconds to appreciate them. He could forget them. But he never would.

“Just like your disposition.” You quietly tease, offering him a shy smile.

Just as if it’s somehow not always sunny, a rare occasion worth being spoken about, so is his unchanging character. But beyond adding in a couple of cups of more confidence perhaps, you don’t think there’s much else that could be worth editing.

“And for that exact reason, I’m surprised I’m getting a job transfer with the reasoning being my enthusiasm levels.” He says with a breathless chuckle.

You tilt your head as you look up at him, he’s still standing, the toe of his shoe almost toying with something invisible on the artificial emerald green grass. You’d put your thumb in your book when he’d arrived but now you put your bookmark in and gently close it. Placing it gently on your lap.

It hadn’t been that long since you’d both finished your education, having had jobs and duties in the vault was important for its efficiency and functionality. But still, this wouldn’t be Norm’s second job. You were still the teacher you’d been assigned at the start of your adult life, most people in the vault only ever had one job, sometimes they would change and so have had two in their whole life and of course, there would be a change of two or sometimes three for overseers, but three while still being so young was very rare. You had questions and internal crises about this world all the time, there was always a moment somewhere in your world that you felt slightly out of place. But still, contentment had found a way to settle in your bones much easier than it did for him.

“What were the enthusiasm levels?” You ask quietly, slowly blinking. You already know the answer.

Norm looks down at the ground, at the grass he could tug out and it would just never grow back. No matter how desperately everyone would want to pretend it would. His foot is so close to yours, mere inches away, the toe of his shoe could just brush against yours and no one would know.

“Nought.” He says with disinterest, he slightly shrugs his shoulders as his eyes stay planted on the ground.

“Something will stick eventually.” You say.

You say stick, you don’t say that there will definitely be something he loves or that it’ll all be okay, it’s not what he wants to hear and you don’t know if there’s a role in this world that you both live in that would fulfil him as much as his father is fulfilled by being Overseer. He appreciates that. But he needs to change the subject.

“Is a literature teacher always reading?” He questions as if it’s a riddle that might amuse him.

“More likely to happen than finding them counting.” You say as you tilt your head. You don’t remember the last time he approached you for conversation, or the last time that he did and there were this many words. It would’ve been back when you were younger, still classmates. You can’t track an exact memory down which surprises you.

“So, what’s that one?” He asks looking at the book in your lap for a moment before his eyes slowly gaze back to your face, making eye contact for the first time in over a minute. You can’t help but feel your cheeks heat up at this. You feel seen as his eyes rake up and take in every facial feature and unique mark on you.

Everyone makes a false and fatal assumption about Norm. They assume that because he’s not extroverted and over-the-top warm like Lucy or Hank, that he’s not charming. That’s complete crap. You know it’s false. He’s not the same as his family or a lot of the people in your home vault but without a doubt, Norman MacLean oozes charisma. He knows just when to turn it on and how to utilise it in the best way with each person. And right now, it’s working on you.

“The Three Theban plays, by Sophocles.” You whisper as your eyes bore into him, you don’t dare to blink. Too scared that he might just disappear if you do, and that when your eyes open again, this will all be confirmed as another of one of your many daydreams about him. “They’re tragedies, I’m reading Antigone, at the moment.” You feel yourself latching each word onto the next word as if you’re climbing a ladder and need to build more rungs at the same time, there’s some intrinsic need in you to draw this out for just a few more moments. His presence gives you some kind of glow. You finally blink, your eyes not able to hold it anymore, he’s somehow still standing in front of you once your lids open. You immediately wonder if you’ve said too much and try to fight the urge to sigh but the urge to not let on how embarrassed you feel is more of a priority, you need to keep that internal.

“And what has that taught you?” He asks with a small smile.

Someone else might’ve found the tone cold. If someone else had asked that exact question, it might’ve felt condescending. But you know exactly what it is.

Norm knows better, not better than you, he’s not that kind of arrogant. It’s because he’s always known that he knows better than most in these reinforced concrete and metal walls you all live in. But you live in a meritocracy. Everyone is in constant pursuit to be kind and to better and upskill as a contributing member of Vault society. Of course if someone’s openly reading it’s an academic pursuit, to be more well-read, that they can learn an important tale and moral lesson, or to use it as a quote to whip out at a convenient time in a council meeting or for intellectual criticism of another philosopher or writer’s thesis. And you both know it’s why each book that was chosen for survival by Vault-Tec was carefully curated, all in the name of intellectual pursuits and other reasons beyond either of your imagination.

“Just further proof why we have rules against familial relations.” You reply after a slow blink, you remember what his sense of humour used to be like in class, how teachers would occasionally stifle an eye roll and sigh or would take a moment to then replaster their smile back on. You look at him, and your eyes can’t help but take in the shape of his nose as if you hadn’t already committed it to memory a thousand times before now.

“Hah.” He says quietly, as if it’s amusing, which he finds to be a little as he lets out a small chuckle and his mouth quirks up and that makes you happy. It’s an expression that doesn’t grace his handsome face often. “Might need to pass that on to Chet, if that’s the case, I doubt he’s read it.”

You let out a chuckle at that, and Norm’s brow furrows for a mere second as he takes you in. His mouth is still in a small smile but not many people find his humour to actually be humorous, his father and Lucy love him but he earns more small sighs and tired smiles from them than anything close to a laugh.

“I’ll let you know when I’m done with this copy.” You reply with another slow blink.

You watch his mouth, mentally tracing his lips with your eyes as he sucks his lips for a moment and nods, his eyes dropping to the ground again. It’s only then that you realise how close the toes of your feet are to each other. He couldn’t be looking down because of that, or thinking about that though. You are cursed to yearn in silence. “Appreciate it.” He says with a small smirk as he looks up at your eyes, he raises his eyebrows slightly to replace any verbal goodbyes and he walks off.

Norm leaves you as he found you minutes before, all alone in false sunlight with a book in your hands. You still haven’t found the missing puzzle pieces.

It had been four days now. Four days since you’d had that conversation with Norm, there had been plenty of stolen glances, and a few returned smiles when your eyes met across corridors or the dining hall, but Norman MacLean was still, one of the only things occupying your mind.

You wouldn’t complain, why would you? How could you when the fact that those glances, and snippets of conversations were now a supercut in your head that provided comfort whenever you started to get into another emotional crisis about vault life and what the history was that had brought everyone to this point. But still, you couldn’t help but sometimes worry over this yearning. How unrequited it could be. How unrequited it felt.

You felt a hunger in the pit of your stomach each time that you saw his shadow, each time you two made eye contact you couldn’t help but feel as if it was a caress on your skin, even though the only time he’d touched you was to help you up when you’d fallen over outside when you were seven. He’d insisted on being the one to put the excessive amount of band-aids on your grazed hands. Hank had stood back and watched, finding it endearing, how concentrated Norm’s face was at such a young age. Maybe they should’ve thought about trialling him in medicine, but no, he probably still lacked the desired enthusiasm during the first-aid training vault-dwellers did.

You were seated with your family for a council update, everyone gathered to sit on the folded chairs, you and your family were always extremely punctual, you sat with them on one side while the other was still a row of a few empty seats.

As people slowly trickle in you see Norm come in, he looks mentally fatigued as he looks around, you turn your head to face your family so you don’t catch his eye in hopes of him not noticing your stare. How pathetic would he think you are if he saw you looking at him like a wide-eyed puppy, begging for love? You can imagine, but you don’t want to know. After a moment you hear somebody sit down next to you, the chatter of people finding seats fills your ears but you don’t hear any from whoever sits down. You feel their arm brush against yours, you know it’s nothing but you instinctively turn to see who it is and to give them a polite and welcoming smile.

It’s Norm. Of course, it’s Norm. But why is it? He’s just facing ahead so he hasn’t acknowledged you yet, although you’re sure he can see your smile and look in his peripheral vision. “Hey.” You say quietly in a warm voice as you look at his handsome side profile, he shouldn’t look that good. His face shouldn’t be so perfectly sculpted. “Hi.” He says quietly as he tilts his head giving you a small look that seems dramatically playful which makes you smile, and let out a silent chuckle. Norm’s face turns back ahead to face the front where his father now stands and the council sit. Your eyes follow his gaze and you turn back in your seat to look straight ahead as Hank MacLean starts his updates in his usual down-to-earth, selfless leader tone.

You can’t help but wonder if this is a sign, him choosing this seat, you even wonder if his arm brushing against you was intentional as he sat down and then again you wonder if you were being crazy for wondering that. As Hank’s words go on to fill the air, they don’t really fill your head, that’s too busy being at full capacity with thoughts of Norman. You rub your chin after a moment, hoping the feeling of your fingertips and nails against your chin might create a sensory distraction. You get a completely different kind of sensory distraction when his arm gently brushes against yours as he leans back in his seat, he adjusts himself so that your shoulders are touching and you can feel his arm against yours. You can’t help but silently gasp, hoping he doesn’t hear it and your breath traps itself as you hold your breath. Feeling far too scared to move. It has to be intentional, you look at him through the corner of your eye as you try not to move. He’s still looking ahead, his expression unfazed as he looks at the people in front of him but he’s still sitting in that position. He hasn’t moved his arm.

It’s intentional.

You try to breathe again as your cheeks heat up, and you bite the corner of your lip. The feeling of his arm against yours sends shivers up your spine and you can feel the warmth of that small point of contact radiating throughout the rest of your body.

The connection you feel with Norm is deep and for the first time in quite a while, this simple gesture of touching arms makes you wonder if these years of yearning maybe aren’t unrequited. You feel your shoulders start to slowly rise and fall again at this thought, this movement hasn’t disturbed Norm away. A smile grows on your face like the corn that’s picked around the year, as you smile and look ahead. The meeting continues like this, it isn’t till the end that you lose that gentle, physical touch, sweet connection that you long for as Norm gets up and leaves to carry on with his day, you smile as he stands up, he gives you as small smile and walks away. You’re now touch-starved all over again, and you think it feels more hollow after feeling a touch from him.

Maybe one day it won’t be just your arms touching but instead your hands, your hands will brush against each other and then your fingers will interlock together. You’re better at camouflaging but you’re certain that your souls are made of and connected by the same things.

It’s been what feels like an eternity since you felt Norm’s simple touch, it’s occupied every thought and been the reason behind nearly every smile since it happened. The question is though, has it been haunting Norm at all? You know he isn’t seeing anyone, secrets like that don’t exist here and it would certainly be talk with how introverted Norm is.

Hours is the amount of time you’ve spent trying to think of a reason to approach him but nothing feels right and you decide against it anytime you get close to it. You try to find any excuse to visit him and the one you can think of is beyond pathetic, and you know that.

You find another copy of a collection of plays and decide to give it to Norm, for him to decide whether he wants to read it or to fulfil a bit. It’s not a good reason, but it’s the best you’d been able to come up with. And at least with the book in your hands there would be some comfort in the pages, the smell of them and the remaining dust that haunted the corners that had been facing the wall. It can ground you and be something to hold onto anxiously while you make a fool of yourself. Norm conveniently answers after you’ve knocked at the MacLean family unit. He looks at your face and raises his eyebrows slightly, his face switches from an apathetic expression to one a bit warmer. “Hey.” You say, smiling at him but you think it must come off as panicked and scared as you look at him with wide eyes and feel an anxious parasite growing and feeding off of you in your brain.

“Hi.” He says as he steps back letting you come into the unit. You walk in, and it’s nice and tidy but it’s the same as essentially your family unit and every other unit in Vault 33. You blink as you look around for a couple of seconds and your eyes land back on him, he’s been watching you the whole time.

“After Lucy?” He asks and you feel your cheeks heat up, you liked Lucy, she was an extremely lovely person and you did consider her a close friend. “No.” You shake your head, the admission makes you feel like coming here was an even worse idea than what you thought it was just a few minutes ago. “I brought a copy of tragedies, in case you needed any dark reading, or wanted to… pass them on…” You continue and bite your lip for a second.

Norm lets out a little chuckle that shakes his shoulders for a second but it’s borderline silent, almost not real. He looks into your eyes and takes a step closer, you’re not sure if he’s going to do the hospitality script you learn from a young age of offering a glass of water or cup of old Joe.

Instead, he quickly steps closer and Norm places his hands on the back of your neck, you sharply exhale and you know that the hair on the back of your neck is standing up. The feeling of goosebumps on every inch of your skin overwhelms your senses as his lips finally crash down.

His lips are slightly chapped and you can feel that against yours, the fine lines and cracks as they press against your mouth. There’s nothing you can do but melt into his touch as you’re overcome with warmth. But there isn’t anything else you’d want to do anyway.

There’s nothing else you can imagine feeling that feels this good. You kiss him back instinctively and put your hand into his hair as he deepens the kiss, his hair is soft and you run your fingers through it as you feel his tongue, and it’s a clash of your mouths against the other.

You immediately wonder if the physical warmth of where your bodies come into contact, his breath against your face, his warm lips, and the warmth that envelops you internally is what sunlight feels like. This feeling basks you in what you imagine would be similar to being basked in the light of sunrays would.

You don’t know how long this lasts, it feels like a sweet lifetime but still deliciously short as you kiss and feel his hair while his hand is gentle on the back of your neck. Like all things, it eventually ends. You look at each other with widened eyes and pant as your lips are no longer in contact. Your cheeks heat up and you almost want to giggle. You see his face is flushed and his eyes shine, you think it’s adoration but you could be projecting.

“My dad will be back soon.” He whispers knowingly as his eyes look glassy. “Oh.” You look around as if that’ll help you feel more composed. You weren’t expecting this to end so abruptly, this felt like something straight out of a dream and now it was a cold end, something want to shapeshift into a nightmare. You know you should leave, you’re feeling far too flustered to try and have a conversation with Hank and you know this isn’t a conversation Norman wants to try navigating around with his father. “We um… Well, we need to talk…” You breathe out.

He smiles and whispers your name, the tone is reverent as he says each syllable. “Not now.” His eyes look a little less glassy but it’s still a visible sheen and you can see it, the sun has withdrawn a little.

“Not now?” You repeat, it comes out as a shaky question though as you feel every muscle in your body tense.

This is rejection, this is what puts all those protagonists you’ve read of into a depression that only the seaside can cure if anything can cure it. Being in this vault, you don’t think you can ask for cornfield projections to change to windy cliffs with waves crashing and the artificial grass to be replaced with manmade sand. You’d always wondered about the sunlight but now you’d have to wonder what sand from a beach felt like as well.

“No.” He whispers. “That isn’t fair. Tomorrow?”

“I don’t know.” He blinks and his cheeks are flushed as he looks at you.

“When?” “Maybe when you finish the book, not a copy, your book.”

“Not a copy?” Your face scrunches up, as your brain runs screaming.

“No.” He answers. “Yours probably has thoughtful annotations or something right?” He asks.

“Or something.” You whisper back.

“I’ll read that.” He says.

You nod, as you pick up the spare copy and walk out from the MacLean unit, you don’t feel like you’re controlling your body right now, it must be some form of muscle memory. Maybe you need to read and reread every book in the vault to further investigate if what you just felt was sunlight. Or, you wonder, are you still under gaps of sunlight, missing Norm more than anything?

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