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banqdanfnfic · 3 years

Text

which, as they kiss, consume | jjk

you just wanted to get a tattoo from your boyfriend

pairing: tattoo artist!jk x reader

genre: established relationships au, tattoo artist au, smut

word count: 4k

warnings: unprotected sex, biting, making out, grinding, licking, nipple play, jk has a lip ring, oral (f receiving), fingering, shy jk and oc, sexual tension, slight choking, slight aftercare

♫ : Streets by Doja Cat, Candy by Doja Cat

♡ Aesthetics: Playlist | Moodboard

He visibly chokes on his glass of beer as he almost snaps his neck to meet your gaze. He could say that you were awfully drunk and hence the sudden confession out of the blue, but behind your heavy lidded eyes, Jungkook could sense that you were serious.

“You what?”, he gulps abruptly, moving closer to your face, doe eyes pleading to repeat yourself.

“Yes Kook. I want that tattoo on my breasts. I’ve decided”.

It’s not that Jungkook didn’t have experience in his career with inking on different parts of a human body. He just had never given a tattoo to someone who is romantically associated with him and the thought of seeing you half naked made him chuck down the rest of his drink in one go.

The most physical he had ever gotten with you was a kiss shared occasionally since it’s only been over two weeks you had started dating. Okay maybe you made out once in his car but that’s it. It never got to the point of shedding clothes or anything intense.

“Are you sure?”

You giggle at the sudden hoarseness in his voice and nod positive. Ironic how his aura never matched his personality. His inked skin, athletic body proportions covered in black monochrome bad boy outfits gave out default energy that he is a local heartthrob with multiple chicks wrapped around his finger each night and a heavy demeanor to carry in his smirk.

You were one of those believers until Jungkook asked you out in the most hopeless romantic way possible after constantly visiting the café you work in, a few shops besides his parlor. He was a gentleman with respectful boundaries, warm hands to hold yours and sweet sensual kisses though you are pretty sure he probably has a good game.

For any outsider it looked like those cliché bad boy and shy girl love stories, but for real both of you were a good percentage of introverts.

Jungkook runs his tongue around his lip ring while he is stressfully ruffling his dark locks into a mess. He is trying to explain his reasons to postpone your decision considering how shy he got at this point. But then that’s exactly why you were requesting him with soft eyes, it would be so uncomfortable to be shirtless in front of anybody else. Or maybe it’s your way of saying the relationship is open for higher levels of physical affection.

After debating around in vain, he finally hums and clears one of his slots for his beloved client.

Friday approaches way quicker than you assumed and now your heart is beating in your throat. Right after you are done cleaning the tables, you have to make it to Jungkook’s parlor for your appointment.

Running on three hours of sleep, black under eyes even after a decent amount of makeup, you groan as you check yourself out in the mirror. You opted for a simple shirt and skirt (also known as the outfit you bought for occasions with Jungkook), light beach waves resting on your shoulders. Hoping that a few cups of coffee will save you, you stride across the street to stop before the infamous parlor he worked in. Hopefully the full body shave and chocolate body butter has kept its excellence on your skin below the clothing.

The door chimes as it opens with a dragged creak on the musky wooden flooring. It felt like an otherworld where air smelled like men’s perfume and faint tint of cigarettes. In other words, intoxicating.

You ask the first person you meet at the reception, one of Jungkook’s companions at the shop and he assists you to his cabin located at a comfortably remote location.

His space is hidden with a simple black curtain. You are met with Jungkook’s back facing you, working determinately on a client’s arm and cares to spare a glance only when the guy with you is informing him about your presence.

“This will be over in a few”, he grins to your face and goes back to focusing his coil on the skin of a woman in her late twenties laying down his chair. The vibration from his inking machine fills in the silence and you excuse yourself to sit on a small black couch beside them.

This was the first time watching him at work and now you can understand why people rumored so much about his attitude because damn it is intimidating.

Brows knit together and inked muscles flex as he drags the needles around for finishing touches. Meanwhile you can pretty much smell the drool from the woman who is shamelessly checking out your boyfriend. Though you are pretty sure Jungkook gets such glances more than he can count every day, you can’t help but feel jealous. Partly because of the childish possessiveness and partly because you want to be the reason behind his dark eyes and intricate concentration, in profession or not.

To stop from mentally throwing daggers on the client’s way, you grab a random fashion magazine from the side table and flip through pages, though other four senses are inclined on your man. With a close attention to his low sigh you conclude that he is done.

The customer with now a fresh tattoo on her arm is discussing random useless topics to get him to talk, a very vain job realizing how Jungkook doesn’t bat a friendly lash at anybody, especially to those who hit on him. To be honest a large part of the ink business was linked with the obsession to attractive people who worked here, even if it meant trading an area of your skin. You grip the edges of the magazine a bit hard, not able to contain the sanity particularly at the high pitch voice she mumbles in before finally leaving his cabin.

A little excited and a lot nervous, you stand up as Jungkook bids goodbye to the third person.

He is quick to notice your discomfort, though not sure if it was the woman or the thought of finally getting the tattoo, he knew you were nervous and surviving in several cups of espresso by the dark circles slowly showing through the faded layers of your concealer. But nothing pulls down the opinion he has about you, beautiful and simple, no dramatics attached.

“Hey are you okay?”

You nod as soon as you sit down on the black tattoo chair, shifting a little to find a comfortable position. He is taking out a box full of equipment and fine needles, already making you break a sweat at the side of your forehead.

But more than that, it’s the way he is sharp and professional that catches your attention more.

You have never seen Jungkook this serious before. The choice of his vetiver perfume digging through your nostrils was driving you insane. If he doesn’t smile soon, you are going to melt into a puddle at his gaze.

“Are you nervous?”, he smirks this time, a newfound reason for your worsening gut health.

It’s mostly going in cycles at this point. Every bit of his skilled motion causes a vigorous hormonal reaction which initiates his next set of effortless teasing.

“I’m a little nervous”, you say, fiddling with your freshly painted nude nails.

“Me too”

It’s something you least expect to come out of his mouth observing how confident he looks right now. He basically has you cornered with his gaze. But whenever he had been truthful about his emotions it felt like a hug.

“I can take off my shirt too, so that we are even. Is that okay?”

He said it so softly like he is handling a child and the duality of the situation had your mind fogged and limbs frozen for a few minutes.

“Yeah it’s okay” It’s far beyond than okay. It’s great actually.

Jeon Jungkook is ripped, a Greek God sculptured masterpiece covered in self designed artwork you are more than happy to wake up to every morning. He hears you gulp at the feast before your eyes while he discards his black t-shirt to a nearby chair.

Now you don’t know if this whole thing is supposed to warm your heart or make you play several erotic fantasies like a movie before your eyes.

Both of you share a small smile while his long fingers are tugging at the hem of your shirt and pulling it up over your head.

He almost wishes you don’t opt to wear a bra but he is met with lacy black, a-bit-over your-usual-budget fabric hugging the roundness of your breasts.

It seemed like you were way too competitive about today. Anything less than complete awe from Jungkook for you was straight disappointment, you don't want anything less.

Well it seems like it did from how blown his pupils were at this point. He peels his gaze off your chest with a sharp gulp to look at your eyes suddenly devoid of any fear and staring back at him with all ease. He is filled with an exapnse of warmth and he isn't sure why does spending just a little amount of time with you had such a grip on him. He can’t wait to propose the idea of getting a couple tattoo together soon and as far as you know how Jungkook is, he is very serious with his body art so apparently he does trust you a lot already.

“Where exactly are you trying to get it?”, his voice is a lot deeper suddenly as he waits for your fingers to guide to his canvas.

You softly trace the spot at the upper circumference of your right boob, “Here”.

You suck a breath through your nose as his own fingers are mimicking your gesture, lightly pulling down the lace to inspect the fitting of the design at hand.

These violent delights have violent ends

And in their triumph die, like fire and powder

Jungkook traces each word on your burning skin, now leaning dangerously close which was questioning your control to put your palms flat on his pecs. He doesn’t notice that though, his mind is busy creating his own fantasies about the women under him.

After two minutes and twenty four second long of inspection and mutual thirst, Jungkook is selecting a bunch of needles to set into the rotary machine. Five fine sharp like a painter's brush moves in and out at a set regularity as Jungkook tests it out.

The next of his actions had you flushed into a pool of crimson. He gently lifts up your resting torso with one hand while the other is unclasping the hook of your bra, making you half naked for the sake of the tattoo.

"I'm going to start", he says shyly.

You still have time to save yourself from the growing phobia for the object, but another unlogical part of your brain says it's a piece of cake considering you have a whole distracting full course meal in front of you.

It stings at first. Well, okay it hurts like hell but your face is devoid of any indication, except your right hand is gripping on the rim of the chair for dear life.

Jungkook on the other hand had never felt this much diversion of mind during his work. He knows that you are probably hurting very badly, especially for a first timer. He is biting into his lip ring, trying to get this over with for the well-being of your pain and his hormones.

After he had scribed one word into your dermis, you are no longer able to contain the ache so you give out a small squeak out of your glossed lips and the vibration of the machine at his hands stops as he looks at you.

"You want me to stop? ", he is relaxing his face as he cups yours with one hand. You don't want to answer that question, but the drumroll of the current situation is making your heart flutter and everything about the little burn on your chest is forgotten.

"No. It does hurt but I'll be fine I guess", you whisper. His breath is mixing with yours slowly as he is leaning more towards your face. If it isn't for a kiss then you are likely to be disappointed.

"It'll be over before you know it. I'll make it quick", and then he kisses you, a small act to get off the pressure of sexual tension between your bare upper bodies.

Before you think of any tongue in the act, he is breaking off the contact and returns to his position on your chest. He misses the pout that forms on your mouth but right now both of your heads are in cloud nine.

The pain starts again, only this time you are busy reliving how his lips felt in yours; soft, firm and controlled.

You gasp when you feel one of his hands cupping your right breast to further his design but it's lowkey an act empowered by lust which is straining behind the so called professional eyes.

You just sit there flustered out of your mind and then Jungkook is suddenly squeezing, full palm hiding your breasts like it's a protected treasure, but he isn't showing the slightest facial expression other than determined eyes and his lower lip caught between his teeth.

Fuck you can't take it anymore. Jungkook can feel your nipples harden against his hand and his brain isn't helping much to concentrate on the design. But by the grace of some positive karma left on his side, he makes it through the long text and when he is letting go of your chest and standing tall, your skin is popping out with redness on the places the text lays embedded.

He fishes out a mirror for you to look.

"It looks beautiful thank you Jungkook", you smile.

"Can I give you one more tattoo on your left one?", he asks while you are contemplating whether going through the pain is worth it, not to mention you really want to get back at a private space with Jungkook as soon as possible.

"It won't hurt I promise", and then he is kissing you a lot filthier than before; all tongue and teeth, while his hands are grazing on the skin of your waist, pressing a little firmer than before.

The coldness of his lip ring rivaled around your mouth, and you try sucking on it to which Jungkook responds with a growl and pushes his body adamantly against yours.

Skin to skin, you are lost in euphoria of everything happening and finally, you roam your eager hands around his body, to his pecs and the definition of abs.

As your fingers scraped against his scalp, Jungkook is biting eagerly down your jawline to your collarbone and continues his ministrations at a particular spot which is bringing out melodic moan variation from you.

He is going down your skin, licking on your left boob before he starts planting violet tattoos as he had promised. As if it couldn't get better, he is massaging the right breast, in a way to soothe pain.

He loses it when you stutter his name, but he is just a fucking tease when it comes to making love and doing anything in a public space is the last thing he wants to do. There isn't much room for all that he wants right now.

"Why did you choose this particular tattoo Y/n?", he rasps while he is planting small pecks on his artwork, and you reply when he is finally eye level with you

"I just felt like it's a good one", your breaths are uneven and mostly caught in your neck. He pecks your lips before speaking, "Those are lines from Romeo and Juliet".

He takes your hands to trace over a line of text among the many designs on his chest.

which, as they kiss, consume

"We pretty much have a couple tattoo now Y/n", his breath is matched with your pace and you are not very sure how to respond to this new knowledge.

"That's… hot"

You break into giggles along with him, he just can't stop dragging his lips around your skin, but he isn't able to word his feelings right now either.

"I have some aftercare healing ointment for the tattoo at my place, wanna come over?" Now that may be a little lame of an excuse to get his little friend out of his pants but you are too unfazed to analyse any of that.

His hands find place on your ass under the skirt as soon as the door to his apartment closes, and before you know it, you are in his bedroom, sitting on the soft mattress and tongue lost devouring each other.

While eagerly getting rid of every article of clothing, Jungkook notices that you don't have your bra on beneath the shirt, so it's probably back at the parlour, but none of you have the slightest care for it, might as well make an excuse with it later to fuck you in his cabin.

He is pushing you farther towards the headboard, him on top, grinding sensenslesy while your lips mould with his. Though he has his whole body pressed against you, you can't seem to feel his weight at the slightest, every one of his actions were just balanced and perfect.

As Jungkook goes down on you, his smile is evident against your skin, finally able to find out how every one of those scenarios in his head will come to look like. He lets out a satisfied hum being finally able to suck on your tits, your fingers finding place on his hair, twisting it out of stimulation.

His pelvis is flushed harshly against yours, grinding and rubbing against your pussy for as long as he is rejoicing the feeling of moving his tongue around both the nipples.

He stops rubbing after some point and you whimper at the loss but his fingers are soon to meet your core as a quick apology. All your later moans are muffled on his mouth once again.

Feeling the controlled movements of his fingers on your clit, you dig your nails down on his toned shoulders. It's becoming impossible to reciprocate his lewd movements of tongue on your lips at this point as the excitement between your thighs is growing every passing second.

Your mouth remains slightly parted as he removes his face to watch you squirm underneath, lips swollen, deep red and glossy from all the saliva.

He pecks at the shell of your ear before going down past your navel.

You haven't had much heads in the twenty years of your life, most of the guys being completely against the idea which made you feel insecure to bring up the topic in bed, but Jungkook does it like his life depends on it.

He growls at the sight of you dripping into his sheets and he seems to enjoy the idea of being the influence behind it. But none is going through your head at the moment, not the metal on his lips grazing against your folds, or the fact that Jungkook is grinning each time you cry his name, it feels unreal to feel something like this.

His mouth is wrapping against your entrance and he is balancing your lower body on his palms to help him reach the right depths inside you. While all you can muster up is the strength to grope the bedsheets in your fist and close your eyes at the pleasure.

Jungkook brings his head higher to give some attention to the throbbing clit, catching it between his teeth and triggering the bundle of nerves just the perfect dose to have your hips jolting up to his face.

He can't take it himself when you are now whining and chasing for your release, so he is slightly humping against the bed to get some friction.

He licks a slow stripe up till your abdomen and slowly raises to your face, already fucked out and dishevelled to keep up with his dominant orbs.

He swears he had never felt so much warmth and care for sex with any of his previous partners, in relationship or not, all he could think is how good can he treat the pleading eyes underneath him.

"Is there something you like that you want me to do?", he says, fingers grazing once again to your crotch to not deny you from his contact. Only this time he is exploring the tightness of your pretty cunt with two skillful fingers.

Is there? You are not sure. Or in other words you are too caught up at the sense of him fingering you. It's not like you had enough experience or people who cared enough to ask that question. It astounds you that never in this entire foreplay he asked for any favor for himself.

"I'm not sure…", you whisper and then maybe you have something on your mind " um I guess I would like to be choked" Okay this felt embarrassing.

He smiles before sliding his free hand from your lips to your neck, and applies slight force, careful to not hurt you in the slightest bit.

"Is that fine?"

"Yeah", you muffle through the decreasing course of air.

He pulls up your face by the throat to attach lips once more. He just can't seem to get enough of kissing you senseless. Then, the tip of his long ignored cock is teasing the length of your pussy twice before it's stretching you out to the brim.

Bodies flushed and hot, his pace is deep and slow, making sure to kiss the cervix every time he is inside.

He watches as your eyes close shut and flutters around whenever he is grazing against your sweet spot. Both of your ears lost and eager for the moans looming out of each other, his more like what he sounds at the gym. Nice observation Y/n.

In this span of sexual energy you shared, you can make some obvious conclusions. Sex with him was surreal, both in terms of domination and the care he had. Rocking against him and keeping up with his hips was attainable— Compared to the intense eye contact he tries to hold, or the way he cups the side of your face and rubs the pad of his thumb on your cheeks while he kisses you during sinking back in, or the way his eyes glow at the beauty of your body open for him. It makes you feel special and it's difficult to respond to these gestures when you never felt this way before.

Jungkook could tell that from your face, but he hopes he lasts with you enough to help you know the worth you hold. You couldn't think too much about anything when you are busy squeezing around his length and coming twice in the first ten minutes.

By the third orgasm Jungkook is nearing his own and he pulls out to pump a few times before coming on your stomach.

"Was it okay?", his voice is all over the place, still balancing his body on his arms while you are amazed by his strength.

"It was amazing Jungkook", you smile. You have known a lot about Jungkook over the few dates you spent with him. That he likes literature, classics and philosophy, designs tattoos as a subconscious thing, that his game is A-1, and he likes working out almost three hours a day. Good for you. But it wasn't until now you know him to be gentle, like he is afraid to crush you under a feather touch. You don't know him as someone who is staring deep into your face after a good fuck, speaks nothing, smiles widely, and plants a peck on your forehead before getting off the bed.

He does the honors of cleaning both of your bodies with a towel, it's not like you have any strength left in you anyway. And then pulls out an ointment from the bedside table and plops next to your body.

"There. You need this to protect the tattoo", he takes off the nozzle and applies a required amount against the words on your chest and massages against them.

"Now go to sleep Juliet", he mocks, pulling up the sheets over you both "good night".

You snuggle against his hard chest, kissing his pecs before resting on it, "Good night Romeo".

thank you so much for reading!! please leave a feedback!!

★ taglist: @pjmochii (dm, ask or comment to enter the tl!)

★ credits: @/rainbeary on spotify : songs that'll make you feel everything's in slow motion playlist

★ banner & boards: by me :)

a/n: this is my first time writing smut and i basically died of second hand embarrassment during the process. pardon for my untalented ass, i tried this wip continuously for a week and i seriously don't think it could get anything better though it's probably not much.

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fandom-monium · 3 years

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For the Holidays

Summary: In which Spencer does not want to go to his high school reunion, but you tagging along changes things. “You doubting my skills, Dr. Reid?”

WC: 2.1k

Tags/Warnings: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader, fake-dating trope, pining (so much pining), Morgan trying to be a good big bro (and wingman)

Spencer Reid does not hate Christmas.

“Reid, come on⎼”

“No.”

“Just listen to me.”

“I did, and it’s a stupid idea.”

No, really. Because hating Christmas would imply he didn’t care. Which he does.

Like when Garcia never fails to drag him into decorating the bullpen every year. Obnoxious Christmas music plays in the background as they bomb Hotch’s office, and it’s worth the smile on his face when he walks in the next morning.

It would mean hating Rossi and his extravagant dinner parties. And yeah, he always hosts but these are just as special if not more so. His mansion is decked in fairy lights and streamers, the food are traditional holiday recipes, and the whole place seems a little less massive.

And he doesn’t hate his breaks. He nearly spits out his coffee when Morgan grumbles about how he almost tripped and fell over from the ice. He has to scramble away as the older man bats at him.

Or when Prentiss drops off holiday-themed pastries? Mhm, just thinking of the ribbon-tied box makes him salivate.

Hating the Christmas card is completely out of the question. Henry and Michael make them every year for the entire team, and JJ makes an effort to shake them out carefully for. It has a boyish charm Spencer never had at their age, a mess of glitter and construction paper. He displays it on his desk anyway.

And you. It would mean hating all the various hot chocolate beverages you’ve made since December started.

Apparently, it’s serious business⎼the art of hot chocolate making. You’ve leaned against his desk, hands waving about as you try to articulate to him the relevance, going over anything and everything you can remember of its history and significance. Of course, he knows all of this already, but he likes you too much to stop you. He almost releases a loving sigh. Instead, he settles for nodding and grinning at you, and he doesn’t really get it but he loves it: the hot chocolate, your pensive expression as you await his critique, even though by now he’s sure you know he has no other comments except ‘delicious’.

He loves it all. He loves you⎼all of you guys. Obviously.

So, no. He does not hate Christmas.

But that doesn’t mean he loves it either.

Which is why, when Morgan leans against his desk, he greets him as normal, a smile forming on his lips as he sets his book down. There is no danger here, except Morgan’s guns. And the heinous green and red envelope between his fingers⎼

Where the hell did he get that.

Spencer’s blood froze. His collection of trauma was nothing compared to this.

Now here he is, packing away his things so he can go home to his warm, cozy apartment and order takeout like he does every year. He's not one for change. No need to break tradition.

But Morgan is acting like a child. Wait, no, even children are better behaved than this. Children at least give up faster.

“I’m telling you, it’s a good idea.”

“As a certified genius, I can say with all honesty, it is not.”

“I promise you it’ll be fine,” Morgan reassures him, voice soothing. The letter, colorful and bright and an eye sore, mocks Spencer. He wishes his reflexes were faster, so he can snatch the abhorrent cluster of sparkles and poorly printed holiday cartoons. And shred it.

Maybe if he glares hard enough, it’ll burst into flames.

“Morgan, my class hated me. The whole school hated me,” Spencer shoves another book into his satchel. It's harder than he means to, and he sends a silent apology to Stephen King; he usually handles his books with care. But not right now. Now, he's tired and exasperated and he just wants to curl up on his couch with The Doctor. "I'm sure I won't be missed."

"But you’re the life of the party!"

Spencer looks up.

Morgan winces, "Yeah, even I wouldn't believe me.” Spencer snorts, continuing to stuff his belongings into his satchel. Morgan’s relentless however. “But you deserve to show them up. You’ve got degrees⎼plural⎼and you're a hotshot FBI agent.”

“Are you not aware of the tragedy that is my high school social experience?”

“Oh, I'm very aware, and thank you for being vulnerable with me. But it's because I care that I’m telling you.”

Morgan’s hand falls heavy on his shoulder, making Spencer pause. He meets his gaze, the man’s expression solemn.

“You deserve to rub it in their faces until the only thing they can smell is your success.”

Morgan grins when that draws out a laugh from him.

Spencer huffs, “Shouldn't we be the bigger person here by not going?”

The older man grimaces, retracting his hand as if the idea offends him. “Fuck that. Be a show off! They deserve to be knocked down a peg after what they did to you in high school.”

Spencer bites his lip. Yes, he’s accomplished, and yeah, as Morgan said, he’s a ‘hot shot FBI agent’. But the memories surge in like a broken dam, cruel laughter and harsh words crashing into him as if he’s twelve years old again. He’s an adult now, so he doesn’t topple over from the impact like before, but the pain is a phantom limb, old and familiar, and leaves a pit in his stomach.

He was a child prodigy then. How would going back as he is now be any different?

Morgan's heart clenches when an unspoken pain flits across Spencer’s face, glossing over his eyes. He can't imagine how deep the emotional scars go, but he knows Spencer needs some form of closure from his past. So when he found the invite, he knew they had to seize the chance. If he wants to continue to move forward, Spencer has to learn to let go. And right now, this is his first class ticket. It’s why he’s pushing this so hard.

This is for Spencer.

But the doctor shakes his head, a strained smile tugging his lips. “Morgan, I had no friends. Even if I go, what am I supposed to do once I arrive? It'd be awkward enough as is.”

“True,” The older man contemplates, a light bulb going off as he snaps his fingers. “You know what you should do? Ask (Your Name) to go with you.”

“(Your Name)?” Spencer jolts, fumbling to catch his phone. Despite being a man of science, his eyes dart around, like you’re a demon summoned at the mention of your name. “Wha-what? Why?”

“They could act as your buffer. And you did say you wanted to be closer with them. This is the perfect opportunity,” Morgan shrugs. Like his suggestion is common sense, logical. Maybe it is.

But this is you they’re talking about. You would never. You’re too cool for a silly high school reunion.

At least, that’s what he’s convinced himself as Spencer’s face pinches. He catches his lip with his teeth. “Morgan, I appreciate the… thought, but I could never ask (Your Name).”

“Ask me what?”

… Oh no. You are a demon.

Spencer whirls around in time to see the glass door shut behind you. You stand there in all your poise and beauty, the fluorescent lights softening your expression. You're bundled up in a matching coat and scarf, the knitted beanie snug on your crown and clashing with your outfit (Garcia told you it’s not your Christmas present, but you’ve worn it everyday since). There’s sprinkles of snow all over you.

You’re not a demon, Spencer decides, even as you brush a clump off your shoulder, nose scrunched in annoyance. More like a snow angel.

You tilt your head curiously when Spencer doesn’t answer immediately. There’s a knowing look on his face as Morgan, realizing the poor guy probably won’t respond any time soon, steps up.

“(Your Name), I thought you went home already.”

You cross the bullpen. “I was. Garcia walked me down and I got to the courtyard. Then I realized she had me so distracted that I left my phone charger,” You rummage around your desk and without looking up, you reiterate, “So ask me what?”

Spencer blinks. “What?”

“You had something to ask me, right?”

Right. That. He runs his fingers through his hair awkwardly. “Actually, I don’t⎼oof.”

Morgan jabs his side, “Yes, there is something Reid needs to ask you.” He sends him a meaningful look.

“Shoot.” You nod to them before rifling through your desk drawers. Nope, not there. You card through files and office supplies, oblivious to the conversation Spencer and Morgan have with their eyes, shooting looks and mouthing at each other.

You bend over your desk as Morgan gestures, Ask them!

Spencer shakes his head vigorously, No!

Do it, or I'll do it for you, he mouths.

Spencer squints at him. You wouldn't.

Morgan smirks and Spencer's heart drops to his stomach. Before he can run, shout for help, literally anything, the man slings a buff arm around his shoulders, forcing Spencer to slightly bend down to his level, hugging him to his side.

He's trapped. Stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Fuck.

“Reid is going to his high school reunion,” Morgan starts, biting back a grin when the nerd squirms against him. Both men boys watch, one excited and the other petrified as you disappear behind your desk.

“That’s nice.”

"Yeah. But all his classmates are older than him and married…“

“Uh-huh…” You scan the dark floors, half-listening as Spencer frowns at the unnecessary detail. He never told Morgan such a thing. He didn’t even know, so how would Morgan-?

“So, can you guys pretend to be a couple or something?”

Thud.

“What!?”

Luckily, neither of you notice the other’s surprise as Spencer chokes on air at the same time you let out a pained hiss.

Morgan lets him pull away, withholding a snicker. “You good, (Your Name)?”

“I’m okay!” Your head pops up from under your desk as you rub the top of your head. You blink owlishly. “I’m sorry, did you just ask me to pretend to be your partner?”

“Yes! But Reid’s partner,” Morgan emphasizes, slapping the doctor’s back hard enough he nudges forward.

You stand and Spencer straightens up, trying not to fidget as your gaze burns into his. You’ve known each other for quite some time now, and while Spencer likes to think he knows you pretty well, it bothers him when your expression becomes unreadable. He knows it shouldn't but it does. He’s a profiler, yet your thoughts are completely obscured by a mask. It only makes him more nervous than he already is.

His skin feels hot when your eyes trail over him, and he prays his scarf is enough to cover the flush spreading from his neck.

He's about to disintegrate when you finally answer.

"Okay."

His brow shoots up and his heart flips. You move away from your desk as he sputters, "Really? Are⎼are you sure? I don’t want to put you out of your way.”

“I wouldn’t have agreed otherwise. Why?” You step closer, and he can’t breathe, not without it hitting your face. You stare him down the bridge of your nose, eyes narrowed. “You doubting my skills, Dr. Reid?”

“What? No, of course not!”

You raise an eyebrow expectantly. “Then it’s settled? We’ll pretend to be a couple for your reunion thing?"

A beat of silence. Spencer realizes you're waiting for his confirmation. But panic rises like bile in his throat and he hesitates.

Maybe he should back out now, retract the entire conversation and take the embarrassment like a man. Tell you he was never planning to attend the stupid reunion because his classmates were (and probably still are) assholes. Honesty is key to any relationship after all.

Especially between coworkers. Ahem.

A flicker of movement and Spencer glances over your shoulder. Morgan nods frantically at him, teeth flashing as he grins wider than before. He gives him two thumbs up.

Maybe, for once, he should pull a Morgan and just vibe it.

Yeah. Yeah!

Swallowing, he nods to you, giving you his signature white-person smile because he's sure if he speaks he might blurt out something completely inappropriate. Like statistics on workplace relationships (they’re great reading material, okay).

Your lips quirk up. "Cool. Text me the details when you get the chance.”

You brush past him before he manages a reply, your footsteps fading. Morgan waggles his eyebrows at Spencer. Spencer blankly stares after you.

“What just happened?”

“You just got a date to your reunion. A fake date, mind you, but you’re welcome nonetheless,” Morgan smirks at him. “So, you got a plan, Pretty Boy?”

His face falls, and the hearts in his eyes⎼shit, had they always been there?⎼chip slightly.

He does not have a plan.

Deleted scene:

“Did you do it?”

“It went all according to plan, Mama.”

AN: I fucked myself over and wrote 7k+ and still counting. Now it’s an unplanned holiday mini series. This kind of stems from Bonding as this uses Mysterious!Reader. Also, I seem to be into pining (fuck established relationships, suffer in silenceee). Whatever holiday you celebrate, I hope you still enjoy this one shot!!

One of the biggest disappointments of CM: Spencer doesn’t confront his high school bullies. I read several fics of him doing so, but a lot of them have the bullies be just as much of an asshole as they were to him in the past, but he deserves more closure.

This will be my take on it. It’ll be a lot of pining but I hope to focus on the his hardships in a less angsty, dramatic way.

Hope you enjoy it!! There will be at least 3 parts?

Also, spread the usage of the term ‘partner’, which can be used for same-sex and opposite-sex relationships.

#spencer reid x reader #matthew gray gubler x reader #mgg x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x oc #mgg fanfiction #mgg imagine #mgg fic #my writing #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x oc #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds

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they-reap-what-we-sow · 2 years

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WEREHUNTERS AU AUTHOR'S COMMENTARY BABEY

after writing my werewolf hunters batfam au, i realized that as always, i had so much more to say that never made it into the fic SO

Welcome to my stream of consciousness rambling while i edit my fic and figure out what i meant to write when i said “TENSES???” halfway through the doc (spoiler alert it meant i had to change every single tense to present)

I wrote this fic coming off a high of like, 4 straight months of reading ONLY Teen Wolf fanfiction, so the rules of werewolves here are sort of based on the fanon characterization of the werewolves from TW.

I chose to use ‘Richard’ instead of ‘Dick’ when I wrote in Damian’s POV, and while it feels right, damn is it annoying to remember

The ages on the reverse robins part are nebulous honestly, but the general age order goes Damian, Duke, Tim, Steph, Jason, Dick, from oldest to youngest. Their age differences are about the same as in canon… but like, with a grain of salt. (timeline hard what can i say)

Tim gets to stay Tim, even in Damian’s POV, because I feel like that was a sticking point post whatever Tim’s Red Hood era was

and the rest is under the cut!

I think the relationship described here and at the other end of the fic slightly changed a little, but i like it for perspective reason’s so hopefully it makes sense

I do like my ominous drop off sentences…

This first ‘torture’ scene was what i built the idea of this fic off of.

May I Present, the Drama™: “Dick is a werewolf in a family of world-famous werewolf hunters.”

Writing Mary is so fun and so painful :’)

I had honestly planned to go for a much darker and feral Dick when I started this, but he turned into a much more poor little meow meow by the end

Did I cackle writing Bruce and Dick’s ironic first meeting? Yes absolutely I did.

I had to dig a plot hole to make it believable that NONE of a family of famous hunters realizes Dick is a wolf- but s hrugs at fanfic yanno

Forcibly asian-ifying the Waynes by making them wear house slippers askdfjhlasd

I have such a vivid image of the chandelier scene in my head, i really wish i could art properly so i could show yall- i hope the imagery was detailed enough

I use the word nest and physically cringe, no i dont mean it in an a/b/o way but like, i cant NOT think about it like that

The circus is such a pure and wonderful part of Dick’s childhood, I always love writing about it

Im at the part of the fic where i cackle over my decision making skills, I hope you’re all suffering so far : )

TENSE CHANGE AGAIN!!! Jesis how did i not mess this up

LOOK AT ME WRITING A FULL CIRCLE!!!! I really enjoyed starting the fic in scene without context, and then building up the context throughout until the climax, very professional writerly of me

These goodbyes were so bittersweet to write because I loved the angst in them, but it also felt like I was saying goodbye to the fic

The Titans that I’m referencing are Deathstroke’s Titans. Not for very important reasons other than it was lead by Slade Wilson, who’s the werewolf who managed to escape from the Waynes and identified them, and has Cassanda Cain’s Batgirl, because of a future plot point I’d imagined of Cass trying to ‘rescue’ Dick and relaizing that he’s not being horribly tortured at home.

I honestly had no idea what kind of weapons the Waynes fight with so like, its just “weapon” creative genius, yeah i know

Their hunter outfits are not quite exactly the canon outfits, im imagining a more like, Punk-Leather-Biker-Gang type style with inspirations from their canon suits

The reveal scene… I really hope I did the shock horror justice, it was a personal favorite.

DICK”S SAD LITTLE SPEECH - man he’s so whumpable

I feel kind of bad that Duke and Jason didn’t get to be part of the big final scene, but trust me, they take it just as well, if not better than the others.

BLOOD GORE AND MURDERRRRRRRRRR- its only right

The fic was supposed to end with the cuddling and scenting scene but my brother did a beta read for me and he was like, this is way too soft an ending for this fic, so violent revenge murder instead!

#batfam #batman #robin #damian wayne #bruce wayne #dick grayson #tim drake #titans east #werehunters au #werewolves #fanfic #batman fanfic #krowabbey

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mistihayesfix · 2 years

Text

I originally posted this blurb on Twitter, then as an ask to share it with @aduckinahat, so if it looks familiar, that's why. But I should have it here to expand on it easily. I've added more to the brief original. Let's see what comes of this, hmmm. Welcome to Queen Irene. 👸🏻👑💗💜

Sana had been paged.

She ran as fast as her feet would carry her through the great hall to the lower salon. Though she was wearing pants and a corset instead of robes & a bustle laden with petticoats and skirt layers she still felt heavy.

Guilt had a way of weighing one down. She slowed as she rounded the corner to the foyer. Doing her best to compose herself before presenting to the queen.

Irene should be busy with merchants this day, not paging Sana, whose daily duties required her to meet with the Ministry of Education. It was perhaps one of her favorite quarterly gatherings. They chose to meet under the Grand Arches of the yew trees west of the royal compound. This explained her more casual dress for the day and why she was able to so quickly mount her black arabian and reach the palace.

Sana took a deep breath.

"Are you prepared, My Queen?" her attendant questioned.

"If our Great Queen is ready to receive me, I am prepared to meet her," Sana flashed her ever-kind, welcoming smile to her attendants and the guards.

With a flourish, the doors to the sun-soaked salon opened revealing High Queen Irene in all her regal splendor. Sana could not help the flush that arose in her face at the sight of her. Irene was indeed gorgeous and she possessed a powerful, authoritative aura. It made people want to please her, to see her happy.

If one were blessed by the gods to witness her smile, they would surely spend the rest of their life doing everything possible to see it again. To say she was radiant did not encompass it. When she was happy or satisfied, she exuded it; not expressively, that was more Sana. Irene became joy in those moments, thus like the sun, she shone it upon everyone just by existing.

At the moment, however, the salon was not filled with joy, but it was not melancholy nor anger either. Most people would not sense it because other than her joy, Queen Irene did not share her emotions. But from Sana, she could not hide. They were wives after all, and Sana knew her wife was confused, she simply did not know why.

"Her Royal Majesty, Queen Sana, has arrived, as you requested, Our Great High Queen." Sergeant-at-arms Byun announced.

Sana genuflected before her, keeping her gaze down, as she now worried about her wife. The irritation she felt at being interrupted, gone. Irene was not one easily confused. Her position required her to have vast, diverse knowledge, to be skilled in several arts and sciences, and to be prepared for battles of wit or war at all times. Confusion was beyond her.

"Yes, yes, thank you Sergeant. My love, please come forward. I do so appreciate your speedy arrival as I know you are meeting with the Educators today. I wish to return you to them quickly, but I require your higher skills in this matter."

Sana looked up, taking in Irene's beautiful form, covered in a white, off-the-shoulder, long-sleeved, rouched dress, which reached her knees. She completed her ensemble with knee-high white boots, a white leather belt, accented with platinum and diamonds, and a matching platinum and diamond icicle necklace. Sana did so love their queendom for the freedom of expression Irene brought to it.

Who would believe a queen to dress like so? Yet she remained elegant and emanated confidence. Her blush deepened especially as she thought on Irene's euphemistic apology for calling for her while she was in a meeting.

She looked up to find Irene's eyes on her form, outfitted in all black, in contrast. She rose and approached the seating platform. The sweet scent of honeysuckle enveloped her the closer she moved to the queen who placed a parchment in her hands.

"I received this. While I understand most of it, I believe the dialect to be one with which you are more familiar."

Sana reviewed the documents; they were written in her native tongue. Irene was correct, the dialect was region specific, and incredibly familiar to Sana. The High Queen's confusion became hers as she reviewed the letter again. She sat upon her throne next to her wife, her queen.

"My darling," Sana began.

"I will not allow it, my beloved queen," Irene reached for Sana's free hand. "This is not our agreement."

Sana did not notice the tears in her eyes until Irene brought up a pocket square to clean her face.

"Sergeant, clear the room and secure this area, and our borders. Protect our young queen, and our people at all costs."

"Ma'am!" Byun harked with a salute as he ushered almost everyone out with him, leaving his most trusted knights of the interior along with the queens' attendants.

"Are you all prepared?" He asked those in the hall outside the salon.

"We shall defend them with our lives," came the honorable, expected reply.

Inside the salon, Sana made her way into Irene's lap, where the elder held her close. Irene cradled Sana to her, confusion filling the nearly empty room.

"This is not allowed. You will not leave m-- us," she soothed. "I will protect you with my own life."

Those words were immediately tested as the sound of a high-velocity projectile became clear.

#twice au #twice fanfic #red velvet fanfic #red velvet irene #twice sana #MistiHFix #queen irene #irene #sana #fanfic #fanfiction #new au

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murfeelee · 3 years

Text

TS4 to TS3 Escape the Snow!

There’s so much I could say about how much TS4′s Snowy Escape EP initially excited and ultimately disappointed me. But eff it, here’s a set of converted items for TS3!

This set includes 25 items:

Torii 1, Torii 2 (both found under Lawn Ornaments)

Ema Rack as Decor; Ema Rack as Fairy House (SN EP REQ)

Ema Boards as Wall Art

Ema Board as Decor, Ema Board as Magic 8-Ball (SN EP REQ)

Shrine as Decor (Lawn Ornament), Shrine as Wishing Well (REQ Lucky Palms world)

Onibi as Mood Lamp (REQ SN EP)

Daruma as Magic 8-Ball (SN EP REQ)

Tanabata Bamboo Plant, Tanabata Bamboo Plant as Fairy House (SN EP REQ)

Carp Streamers as Radio

Bamboo Fence Wall as Decor (found under Lawn Ornaments)

Shrine Rocks (found under Lawn Ornaments)

3 Monkeys (found under Sculptures)

Stone Lantern (found under Outdoor Lights)

Heater as Fire Pit (functional)

Fireplace (functional)

Child Outfit & Hat ACC (hat slider compatible)

Toddler Outfit (GEN EP REQ) & Hat ACC (IP EP REQ)

And that’s everything!

楽しんでください!

Download folder (separate package files): Mediafire

Download set (single zip file): Mediafire

I uploaded the separate files in case y’all don’t have the Supernatural EP, Lucky Palms, Generations or Island Paradise.

Descriptions & preview pics under the cut:

Torii 1, Torii 2 (both found under Lawn Ornaments)

The Torii 2 has 2 different variations, with a matte specular & super shiny one:

Ema Rack as Decor; Ema Rack as Fairy House (SN EP REQ)

Ema Boards as Wall Art

Ema Board as Decor, Ema Board as Magic 8-Ball (SN EP REQ)

EA’s Ema variations were non-existent, so I used Icebox/Simnaru’s vatiations instead.

Shrine as Decor (Lawn Ornament), Shrine as Wishing Well (REQ Lucky Palms world)

This is the sole reason I even bothered making this set, as EA royally pissed me off by removing the praying interactions at Shinto shrines in TS4. Like WTF. TS2 has prayable Shinto shrines in Bon Voyage, and people love them. Eff EA, seriously. So now the Shrines are Wishing Wells like the ones in Lucky Palms that do the exact same thing -- cuz it’s not effing new.

Get blessings from the shrine spirits!

Be granted unforseen riches!

But you miiiight get frogs instead of wishes every now and again though. :P

Onibi as Mood Lamp (REQ SN EP)

I made these little “demon fires” (onibi) as Mood Lamps, because it just makes sense.

They come in many different see-through variations, and are fully recolorable.

Daruma as Magic 8-Ball (SN EP REQ)

Now, I already made a Daruma 8-Ball in my Oshogatsu set a few Lunar New Years ago, and that one from TS2 is waaaaay nicer-looking. BUT, I decided to make the TS4 one too, because of the extra variations it includes:

The two normal Daruma are recolorable, but the extra variations are non-recolorable.

Tanabata Bamboo Plant, Tanabata Bamboo Plant as Fairy House (SN EP REQ)

Again: I already made Tanabata content in my older Lunar New Year sets. But I figured it would be cute to have them as a Fairy House, but also wanted the simmers without the SN EP to have something nice, so I made a decor version, too.

Carp Streamers as Radio

This is a radio, but yes, I put mine on the roof with MOO. I had no idea what I wanted to use them for, sue me.

Bamboo Fence Wall as Decor (found under Lawn Ornaments)

I would’ve LOVED to have been able to make these as real fences, but that’s a skill set way above my pay grade--as I do all this crap for free anyway, LOL.

It includes a recolorable variation, and a variation without the leaves, just the plain fence stalks.

Shrine Rocks (found under Lawn Ornaments) & 3 Monkeys (found under Sculptures) & Stone Lantern (found under Outdoor Lights)

I recommend using all of these with OMSP Resizers.

Heater as Fire Pit (functional)

I don’t know. I DON’T KNOW! I’m trying to make more functional stuff, okay!?

It has 2 different variations, with a matte specular & super shiny one, cuz I can’t figure out speculars to save my soul.

Fireplace (functional)

It has 3 different variations, each with a matte specular & super shiny one. Cuz I suck.

Child CAS Conversions

Child Outfit & Hat ACC (hat slider compatible)

Toddler Outfit (GEN EP REQ) & Hat ACC (IP EP REQ)

I hate making kid CC. But I really liked these outfits & hats, so I figured why not.

And that’s everything!

楽しんでください!

Download folder (separate package files): Mediafire

Download set (single zip file): Mediafire

I uploaded the separate files in case y’all don’t have the Supernatural EP, Lucky Palms, Generations or Island Paradise.

#sims 3 cc #sims 3 asian #ts4 to ts3 #Sims 3 conversion #Sims 3 build mode #sims 3 buy mode #sims 3 clothes #Sims 3 Accessories #sims 3 decor #sims 3 plants #sims 3 supernatural #Lunar New Year

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adhd-disaster-willie · 3 years

Text

you’re the one that brings the sun; chapter 4/6

Chapter 1, 2, 3,

Warnings: Swearing

Word count: 3,599

Notes: sorry this update took a bit longer than usual, hopefully it’s worth it cause this chapter is longer than the last couple :)

---

It’s the third week of October when Flynn and Willie meet. Alex had been hoping to postpone it as long as he could, because Flynn on their own is a force to be reckoned with; combining her with Willie was sure to end in a lot of tie dye stains and at least one thumb wrestling match.

It’s an abnormally cold day and Alex, whose hands were always cold anyway, is regretting leaving his gloves behind because sometimes even the heat of the coffee shop isn’t enough to calm his shitty circulation. He rubs his palms together and grumbles under his breath; the end of his shift couldn’t come sooner and his favorite chair is looking incredibly tempting right now. There’s even a blanket draped over the arm rest, a new one that Vivian (one of the owners) found at a thrift shop and embroidered with a bunch of little pink flowers.

“Lexi!”

Alex breathes a sigh of relief upon seeing Julie and Flynn enter, smiling for real for the first time in a couple hours. “You didn’t happen to bring gloves?” He asks. “Or a vat of lava I can stick my hands in?”

Flynn shakes their head as she slides up to the counter. “Sorry Allie, no gloves.” She raises her bare hands to prove it. “I cut up my last pair because the fingerless look was exactly what I needed to complete my outfit.”

“Why can’t you buy fingerless gloves like a normal person?”

Flynn shrugs. “Because where’s the fun in that?”

“Doesn’t Bobby have a stash of those hand warmer things for this exact situation?” Julie says. She taps her hands on the glass display of baked goods in contemplation, then turns to Alex with a raised eyebrow.

“Normally yes, but he ran out a few days ago and hasn’t restocked yet.”

“The audacity,” Julie says solemnly.

“If it’s one thing men have,” Flynn says between bites of a muffin that Alex doesn’t remember giving to them, “it’s the audacity. And that’s-”

“And that’s why you’re a lesbian,” Julie finishes Flynn’s sentence for her. “Pretty sure you’ve said that twice in just the past week.

Flynn sticks her nose in the air haughtily. “And I still stand by it.”

“Right, are you two just here to steal food?” Alex asks, although his tone is light and teasing. “Because actual customers are my first priority.”

“We have news!” Julie pipes up. She hops over to the counter so she’s directly across from Alex, with Flynn hanging off her shoulder and grinning.

“News?”

“Your fantastic marketing team got you a gig on Saturday,” Flynn says, lightly flipping her braids and smiling with pride.

“Sweet,” Alex replies. “And… you came all the way over here to tell me about that?”

“Well…” Flynn smiles in the way that lets Alex know he’s not gonna like what comes next and he sighs, already prepared for the worst.

“A little birdie told me that your roommate likes to get tea at…” Flynn looks at their phone. “4:30 every Tuesday and Thursday. And would you look at that it’s already 4:25!”

“A little birdie- Bobby.” Alex curses underneath his breath. Of course Bobby would let that slip; remind him not to talk about Willie with Carrie’s cousin, Carrie who will drag any bit of gossip out of Bobby and relay it over to Flynn. “Why do you want to meet Willie so bad anyway?” He asks

“I have to make sure he’s worthy of you!” Flynn cries.

“You just want to tell them about the time in 10th grade that-”

“That you stole a shopping cart and rode it around the school in the middle of the night and broke your nose falling out.” Flynn grins innocently. “We can’t have them falling in love with you without knowing how much of an idiot you are.”

“Oh he knows,” Julie chuckles. “I seem to recall Alex telling me about an incident with the song-”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Alex cuts in. “There was no incident, and I’m not an idiot. If anything I’m the most responsible of us, excluding you two of course.”

“Alex sweetie, you aren’t responsible, you just have anxiety,” Julie says, patting his shoulder sympathetically.

“That’s… okay.”

Alex has accepted his fate by the time Willie comes walking in, looking heartachingly windswept and flushed, like he just walked right out of the pages of a fairytale. He gives Alex and Julie small waves and walks over to join them at the counter. Alex goes to take a customer’s order and he honestly doesn’t know what happened but when he turns back around, Flynn and Willie are engaged in what looks like a very competitive arm wrestling match. Julie’s looking on with an amused smile, but Alex knows her well enough to know that she’s probably promised Flynn cotton candy if they win.

“You’ve literally known each other for five minutes,” Alex says, absolutely baffled.

“I don’t care, I’m stealing him,” Flynn replies, her voice constrained as she grows closer to winning. “I don’t know how you managed to get such a cool boyf-”

“Ok that’s enough!” Alex cries, blushing violently as he cuts Flynn off.

“I win!” Flynn raises their arms in triumph and laughs loudly. “Willie owes me half a cheesecake now.”

“Why the hell would you do that?” Alex looks at Willie in bewilderment.

Willie shrugs. “I was gonna buy cheesecake anyway.” They shift their attention from Flynn, who is still relishing in her victory, and smiles at Alex. “What’s up with you, hotdog?”

Alex wrinkles his nose at Willie’s weird mind reading skills. “I’m just tired, also Flynn seems to have made it their goal to tell you about every embarrassing thing I’ve done in my life.”

“Hmm, quite the noble goal.”

“No, it’s not.”

Alex spends the next hour watching as Willie and Flynn somehow mesh together like they’ve been best friends for 10 years, wincing when Willie suggests they do tie dye together sometime; Alex was expecting it, but he’s still not too keen on the prospect of dye on his clothes because he knows that somehow, it will end up on his clothes. At some point, there’s a heated discussion on the correct term for hair ties, which manages to end in Flynn braiding Willie’s hair.

“Hey Allie, what do you think of Willie’s hair?” Flynn’s dragging Willie from the table they’d settled at, over to Alex and showing off her handiwork. Alex, on the other hand, is sure he blacked out for a second.

“Uhhhh.”

“Don’t be mean to him, Eugene.” Julie scolds, but Alex knows that that nickname means Julie isn’t being serious in the slightest. “It looks very nice doesn’t it, Alex?” Julie leans across the counter to elbow Alex as subtly as she can manage.

“Um. Yea! Yea very nice!” Alex wouldn’t really mind if he got spontaneously crushed by a meteor right now.

Alex has quite the headache by the time his shift is over and he doesn’t know if its from lack of sleep or having to process the weird force that is Willie and Flynn’s friendship. Probably both. ---

“Alex, stop moving!”

Alex pauses typing momentarily to spin around in his chair, much to Willie’s chagrin. “What?”

“Stop,” Willie huffs in annoyance, “moving! Go back to your computer.”

“What are you doing?” Alex asks, ignoring Willie’s request.

“Drawing.”

“Are you drawing...me?”

“What. No!” Willie’s voice goes up an octave and his face flushes bright crimson. “I’m drawing… your… bed?”

“Why?”

Willie shakes his head, sighing. “You simply wouldn’t understand, it’s an artist thing.”

“Dude,” Alex bites back a laugh, “you can’t just say that every time you don’t know how to respond to something.”

“Watch me.” Willie wiggles their eyebrows and grins; and Alex is just barely holding in his laughter. “Just… go back to your…”

“Calculus.”

“Ew. Yea, go back to that. And don’t move!”

Alex raises his hands in defeat and resumes his position at his laptop, his whole chest ready to burst with feelings. Willie’s an artist, of course he draws, Alex feels stupid for overthinking this. It just feels incredibly personal for Willie to be drawing him, it’s like if he wrote a song about them, which he… has definitely never done before. Alex groans internally and tries to bring his mind back to Earth, but calculus homework is somehow even more boring than before with the knowledge that Willie is drawing him. Part of Alex doesn’t want to see the finished product; Willie always pours so much emotion and vulnerability into his art, and Alex is afraid of what feelings will be staring back at him. But the other part of him, the hopelessly pining part, feels honored and giddy at the thought of Willie literally making a portrait of him! Willie’s always been one for abstract things, he’s said so himself, so Alex doesn’t even know what a regular pencil drawing will look like. He wishes he could peek over Willie’s shoulder, watching the way their eyebrows knit in concentration, and each graceful stroke of pencil, their hands rough and callused but moving with a mesmerizing gentleness, bracelets shifting every time they move their wrist, and the hair escaping their ponytail and framing their face delicately. Alex shakes himself from his trance, heat creeping up his face as if Willie can read his thoughts.

His computer screen looks the exact same as it did 10 minutes ago and Alex wishes he could drag Reggie over here because he’s already bad enough at math as it is, so add the factor of Willie in the room stealing his focus, everything looks like a jumble of lines and numbers and letters and none of it makes sense.

“Do you have any idea how to do calculus?” Alex finally blurts out, swiveling around once again.

“Aw come one, I was almost done,” Willie says, pouting.

“Do the rest from memory.”

“What memory?”

“Didn’t you say you can remember things that are important to you?” Alex blushes scarlet and stammers out, his voice much higher than usual, “I mean! I didn’t mean that I’m- I just meant that- that you uh… you…”

Willie giggles at Alex’s flustered expression. “Calm down hotdog, you are important to me.” He gives Alex a soft smile that makes Alex’s stomach do flips, then somehow manages to move on as if he didn’t just say that. “And I remember a bunch of random dates and stuff but like-” he waves a hand over his head like that explains everything.

“Right…” Alex replies skeptically. “I know exactly what that means.”

Willie chuckles gently before craning their neck to get a look at Alex’s screen. “Calculus you say?”

Alex nods solemnly. “Calculus. I’ve never been good at math.” He lets out an exasperated sigh and begins slipping down in his chair. “The stupid fucking midterm is in like two days and I know nothing! I’m gonna fail and get kicked out and be living on the streets.”

“Why do you always assume you’ll be living on the streets?” Willie crosses his arms over his chest and leans back, one eyebrows raised in the way that somehow makes Alex equally annoyed lovesick.

Alex furrows his eyebrows in a sort of pout that looks scarily like Luke’s. “Well-” he starts, “because that’s… that’s exactly what’ll happen!”

“Riiiight.” Willie hauls themselves up and walks over to sit on the end of Alex’s bed, Alex following their movement with his chair until they’re facing each other. “Because on the off chance you get kicked out of college, the Molina’s are just gonna turn you away.”

“Well… okay.” Alex sighs, a laugh dancing on the end of it. “Okay fine! You win.” He raises his hands in defeat. “Still doesn’t make my calculus homework disappear.”

“Ah but-” Willie starts. Then the lights shut off. “That does.” They chuckle weakly and glance up at a horrified Alex.

“Really?!” Alex cries, running his hands through his hair almost aggressively. “A power outage?! It’s- it’s not even raining! It’s not raining right?”

“Nope.”

“Okay but… okay.” Alex exhales and begins drumming on his thighs, attempting to ground himself. “It’s fine. I still have 20% left and-”

“I think your laptop begs to differ.” Willie grimaces as Alex whips around and groans out loud at the painfully dark screen of his computer.

“This is just lovely!” Alex cries, laughing bitterly. He clicks the space bar several times, sinking down in his chair more every time it doesn’t do anything. “Do you think if I glare at it hard enough it’ll turn on?” Alex’s tone is defeated and even he knows that he sounds stupid. But when he turns to look back at Willie, they look oddly excited.

“Dude that’s the same look you had when you almost got us arrested for screaming in a museum in the middle of the day,” Alex says warily. “I don’t think I want to hear this idea.”

Willie rolls his eyes and hops up, shaking his hands like they do when they feel like their entire body is buzzing, as he told Alex once. Willie likes to say that when he’s excited, it’s like his whole body is filled with sparks. Alex doesn’t have any problem believing this, especially when Willie grinning and bouncing like they are right now.

“No,” Alex says determinedly. “I would much rather sit in the dark then do whatever you have planned that will undoubtedly get us in trouble.”

“Come on,” Willie whines, and Alex has a hard enough time resisting that stupid smile, but then Willie goes and grabs his hand and really, there’s no way he can say no to that. Willie pulls Alex out of his seat and swings their intertwined hands. “Trust me?” Their voice is gentler than it was before which makes Alex’s chest twist.

��I- okay…” Alex shakes his head, chuckling. “I’m not bailing you out if you get arrested.”

“Course you aren’t hotdog, you don’t have enough money,” Willie quips as he begins to drag Alex from the dorm to who knows where.

“I- that’s… you’re not wrong but-”

Willie snickers softly, bring one hand up to hover over his mouth. This is a habit Alex has noticed Willie has. They don’t quite cover their mouth, but when his laugh is quiet and gentle, his hand will linger just in front of his face, and when it’s the loud kind that bursts from their chest, they’ll sometimes grasp their stomach or clasp a hand over Alex’s shoulder.

Alex only feels himself grow more confused as Willie drags him across the lawn (still holding his hand!!!) past the clusters of trees and students mingling outside of their dorms complaining about the blackout that doesn’t seem to have any plans to end soon. There’s the occasional flashlight, but otherwise the entire campus is practically pitch black and Alex has to squint to see. He wonders how far out the power outage went, because there doesn’t seem to be the usual flickering neon lights from the city either. It’s weirdly calming, and make’s everything seem much quieter. Maybe it’s the lack of buzzing lights or his imagination, but either way, it’s quiet enough for Alex to hear his own heartbeat and feel the pulse from Willie’s wrist pressed up against his own.

Willow stops suddenly, causing Alex to stumble, and they turn around, entire face lifted in a giddy grin. “Look up.”

Alex raises an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Just do it.”

“Are you gonna do something illegal while I’m not looking?”

“Alexander.”

“William.” Alex bites his lip to keep from smiling, but finally gives in with a small chuckle. “Alright.” He turns his head up and- oh.

“Right?!” Willie practically shouts. He flops down into the grass and Alex mourns the loss of contact, his hand feels empty now. He tears his gaze from the sky to look at Willie and for a moment, wonders who could look at the sky when Willie’s eyes are right there and hold the entire universe. Alex joins Willie on the ground and lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Willie’s eyes are practically glued to the stars, brighter than either of them had ever seen, having lived in LA for their entire lives, where everything is always busy and the sky is always polluted with light.

“I used to love space as a kid,” Willie says with a mix of nostalgia and wonder. “I would build rocket ships from cardboard boxes and my mom and I would paint them. I wanted to be an astronaut for the longest time.” He’s fiddling with the blades of grass, tearing out bits and letting it be carried off by the small breeze.

“I never cared for space,” Alex admits. “But Flynn, she uh, she had a phase in middle school where it was like…the only thing they could talk about.”

“Space is very cool.”

“Sure.”

“Shut up.” Willie nudges Alex’s shoulder with their own, their nose wrinkling in a tiny smile. Neither of them say anything when Willie grabs Alex’s hand again and squeezes it gently. Alex swallows thickly, his brain short-circuiting. Every other time they’d held hands it was for a reason. But this, this was different and it seemed that they both knew it. Alex is painfully aware of their proximity, knows that if they both turned their heads to the side right now…

“Space apparently smells like seared steak,” Willie babbles, cutting the silence in half (but not the tension). “According to astronauts. Also there’s this planet -55 Cancri e- that’s supposedly made of diamonds!” The awkward energy dissipates as Willie sinks comfortably into info-dumping on Alex, free arm motioning joyfully as he talks. “And like, the universe! It’s expanding but where?!” He sounds awfully distressed about this fact and Alex lets a breathy laugh escape.

“Don’t laugh at me!”

“I’m not.”

“Are too.” Willie shakes their head. “Seriously, it doesn’t make any sense. What is it expanding into, how?!”

“See that just makes me anxious,” Alex complains.

“Told you so.”

Alex remembers Flynn’s space hyperfixation like it was yesterday. It was at the same time as Julie’s astrology phase (which truthfully, hasn’t ended yet) which resulted in a lot of arguments about how there’s no way stars control our personalities, they’re just balls of gas. One thing he recalls vividly is the day that Flynn decided to sit Reggie down and tell him that Pluto was no longer a planet. And… she could’ve chosen a better method than a somber powerpoint that had Reggie in tears by the end, but it certainly got the point across. Alex didn’t quite understand why Reggie was so upset over it (or how he was just then figuring it out), sure it was a little sad but it didn’t seem like something to spend an hour sobbing about. He tried asking Flynn about it, but they just called Pluto a “weakass dwarf planet with no real purpose.” But he thinks that he gets it now. Everything in space is so big and suffocating, and staring up at the stars like this makes him feel so small. But he doesn’t feel like he’s floating alone, he’s tethered to the ground by Willie and he thinks that if he were to let go, that’s how Pluto feels; tossed out, demoted, drifting through space alone. So maybe there was some logic to Reggie’s breakdown.

There’s music playing somewhere in the distance, a classical song that Alex hasn’t heard before, but it’s the kind of song that just melts into your skin and sits there, humming and coursing through your veins. Vaguely, he thinks that he’d like to dance with Willie to a song like this one day, maybe when he isn’t too anxious to even say his feelings aloud.

“Did you know,” Willie starts, and Alex can’t help but notice a slight shake in his voice. “Alpha Centauri is two stars but… from here it looks like one. It sounds stupid and cheesy but I don’t know, I used to think that’s how soulmates are y’know? Like they weren’t necessarily made for each other but they mesh together perfectly and maintain their own sense of self and their own personality but from afar, appear as one.”

Alex knows he’s blushing and he wonders if Willie is too, but doesn’t dare look, part of him aware that he wouldn’t be able to tell anyway, and the rest scared that Willie would already be looking at him. “That sounds nice,” he says instead, and he means it. “I never believed in soulmates but… I like that.”

“Yea?”

“Yea.” Alex can’t tell if his voice is incredibly quiet or if it’s just muffled over the sound of his own heart in his ears. But he’s facing Willie now, and Willie’s facing him and they’re so close and-

The lights turn on.

Alex didn’t realize how many lights there were until they’re on again and he hears cheers from inside the dorms but he can’t for the life of him comprehend why they’d be cheering. He hears Willie sigh in what almost sounds like disappointment, but when he looks over, they’re squinting angrily up at the streetlights and the moment is over. And maybe Willie holds his hand all the way back to their dorm, and maybe they look down at their feet and cough awkwardly when he lets go and maybe there’s a small smile on both of their faces when they go to sleep, but the moment is over and he desperately wants it back.

---

chapter 5

chapter 6

Taglist: @thatsanewflavor @spookiest-sapphic @dovesgrangers @julie-n-phantoms @frostknyte @thegaylink @nervousmiracletrash @crummycassidy @fairygclds @reallyintrospectivepeople @madsmax-37 @swamp-acad @kat-maybe-not @sunsetcurve123 @lookingthroughmirrors @queer-fandom-enby @over-under-through1 @willex-n-waffles @caliibee @stars-soph @herequeerandcantdrinkbeer @nickalicious @andwhenwepart @maizsnex @fanofthepod @heademptynothoughts @thunderstorm-symphony

#jatp #julie and the phantoms #willex #alex mercer #willie jatp #willie wilbur williamson #willie nolastname #flynn jatp #flynn nolastname #julie molina #willex fic #willex fanfic #willex fanfiction #jatp fic #willow writes #ytotbts #you're the one that brings the sun

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secretsofthedarkestkind-arch · 3 years

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Elena starter for @storieswrittcn (this may or may not have gotten away from me, Remember you said you like novella. I also took part of the ramble part one but altered it also)

We are outsiders Living inside a broken world We are outsiders And I know sometimes it can hurt But it gets better yeah we'll make it through We'll stay golden when we're black and blue We are outsiders But we're not hiding anymore This is who we really are

It had been fifteen years since she’d seen either of her brothers face to face. Fifteen years since Lee had spoken to the eldest. Fifteen years since she had thought of Mystic Falls, thought of all the ghosts that lurked within the town's shadows. Lee Salvatore had made it a habit to push anything regarding her brothers, that town, or their past to the deepest recesses of her mind. She had built life after life without them, embracing the warped gift of eternity. She hadn’t truly looked back after she’d transitioned. Finally able to become who she really was without the suffocating opinions of the church, her community, or her family.

It wasn’t an easy journey. Slow in it’s progression. Lee’s aunt had always told her she was a soul gifted before it’s proper time; her sexuality, the way she was born, her passion and skill when it came to art, her desire to see the world. None of it fit in the 1800’s. But as times changed pieces of Lee started to belong. Each change brought new opportunities, allowing Lee to start to put herself together.

She was still an outsider, still judged--but what else would you expect living in a broken world? What didn’t fit into the neat little boxes of people’s minds, what didn’t fit the societal norm, was still given so much hate. The only difference was now there were those who fought for equality, unafraid to use their voices to promote change. Those people gave Lee hope, gave her strength. Finding those people throughout the last 145 years had shaped her.

Lee Salvatore was still an outsider, but she was also so much more. She was an artist, one with more alias’ than she could count on both hands. She was a college graduate, several degrees tucked away in a safe. She was a traveler, passports filled with stamps and a mind filled with memories she had never imagined to have. But most of all, Lee was finally able to look in the mirror and accept the person she saw; the youngest Salvatore was who she truly was. She held no more self hate. No more whispers of ghosts past haunted her. She was an outsider, but she wasn’t hiding who she really was anymore.

While Lee had taken the road of self discovery, her brothers’ hadn’t. They’d been living in a siblings quarrel, at least Damon was. Stefan suffered at every turn at their brothers hand whenever they fell into each other's orbit or Damon specifically sought him out. Lee was drugged into it whenever Damon crossed too many lines, risking their exposure to the world.

Stefan had called her no more than seven hours ago asking for her help. There was a trail of bodies leading straight to town, ‘animal attacks’ that couldn’t be explained were catching the eye of news outlets. She hadn’t even known Stefan was back in Mystic Falls. When Lee asked him why he couldn’t just leave, he explained there was something holding him in Mystic Falls that didn’t allow him to--something that could finally give him a sense of belonging--and refused to believe the attacks were Damon. All he wanted was for Lee to be there with him, help keep the spotlight off their kind. The vampire might loathe her brothers, wanting nothing more for them to be miserable, but she wasn’t going to allow Damon to out them.

Which is why Lee was driving down the main strip on her motorcycle. The town was busy; teens scattered across the storefronts trying to enjoy their last hours of summer vacation. She came to a stop at one of the only stoplights in town, rolling her shoulders dreading whatever was to come when she reached the boarding house. The youngest Salvatore felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand, a shiver going down her spine, every nerve ending coming to life in a way she hadn’t experienced in years. Lee let her head turn to the right, following the pull of whatever was happening.

‘What…” The lithe form of a brunette teen who was walking beside another girl was at the center of her focus. “Turn around.” Lee knew the brunette couldn’t hear her words. Her plea was answered as she turned, eyes almost searching. Those eyes, that’s what did it. “Who are you?” A horn from behind her snapped Lee out of her trance, for a nanosecond the two locked eyes. The vampire’s eyes hidden behind her aviators. The next Lee was pulling off, possibly faster than she should have been. Now she had the true answer of why Stefan refused to leave.

----

Lee placed a few notebooks, her sketchbook, and a few pens into her satchel--the one she’d had since she was a teen; a gift from her aunt she’d never been able to part with. She glanced up at the ceiling hearing Stefan’s footsteps on the roof. A sigh left her lips, why had she agreed to this? She was roughly 160 years old and able to enroll herself in a Small Town America High School. It was ridiculous; a complete stalker move. There had to be other ways for Stefan to get to know this girl, if that’s even what he was truly hoping to do. For how Stef had explained the situation, Lee could tell he was only doing this because of Katherine.

Subconsciously her thumb started to play with the band of her daylight ring. She was thankful for the chance of life Katherine Pierce had given her but there was so much Lee wished was different. Shaking her head to break out of her thoughts she moved toward her closet to get dressed. Lee scanned through her options, To be me or be who society thinks I should be? It was a debate she hadn’t had in a long time. To make this work she couldn’t disturb the waters between her and her brothers too much. A short laugh left her lips, that was a joke. The three couldn’t be in the same room without starting something. As it was right now, it was just two of them. With that thought in mind Lee grabbed an outfit that would be her.

Guys white wash skinny jeans that weren’t too tight to show her tuck, a grey and white hooded baseball tee that had a pocket on the left chest, her grey vans, and her black leather jacket she’s had since the 90’s. She finished the look with a black watch. One more look in the mirror and she was pocketing her phone with one hand and slipped her satchel over her shoulder with the other.

She knew Stefan would already be off. His stalker-like tendencies being on overdrive since the ‘animal attack’ last night after Lee had arrived. She ignored Zack who was in his office and headed to the garage, she wasn’t going to run to the school. There wasn’t anything wrong with arriving in style.

-------

Stefan met her in the parking lot. Lee took her helmet off and ran her fingers through her hair, glancing at her brother, her own sunglasses covering her eyes. “Why do you always insist on dressing like that?” He asked, judgement clear in his voice.

“This is me Stefan. You know that. Let it go. You asked for my help so take me as I am or I get on this bike and leave.” She told him. Lee wasn’t going to put up with his judgement. The world had given her enough of that. Plus her brother had already had his fair share of giving her judgement when they were younger. “I hope you know what you’re doing.” Lee stated, “This is definitely traveling into creeper status.” Stefan didn’t answer, just turned to walk through the crowd of students covering the lawn reconnecting after a summer away. She moved into step beside him, she knew they stood out; leather jackets, both well built and confident in their strides, the aurora of not giving a fuck rolling off them both.

They finally found their way to the admissions office, standing shoulder to shoulder. Stefan handed over the file that was supposed to hold all they needed but Lee knew was missing more than a few things. She wondered which of the two would compel the woman. Stefan could but where all he drank was Bambi and Co blood who knew how long it would last. Lee sighs, she’s ready to make the move when something behind them stops her. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up, her nerves firing up again, and she felt that pull to turn around. She also could feel a warm buzz in the air, a witch.

“Hold up. Who’s this?” The first female says, the witch.

The secretary’s voice brings her back to what’s in front of her, saying exactly what she knew was coming. “Your records are incomplete. You’re both missing immunization records and we do insist on transcripts.” Lee glances at Stefan out of the corner of her eye. The last transcripts she had were college one's back in the 1980’s. She hadn’t done high school since the late 70’s and that was only to get into Yale. Their art programs the top in the country.

Thoughts of the past make her miss her chance, Stefan is taking his sunglasses off, “Please look again,” Lee adjusts her satchel hoping Stefan can do this right. “I’m sure everything you need for both of us is there.” Lee chews the inside of her lower lip, her free hand moving to remove her sunglasses just in case.

The secretary looks back down, “Well you’re right.” Lee tucks her sunglasses into the collar of her shirt as the woman looks back up at her brother. “So it is.” Stefan-1, Humanity-0.

“Thank you,” Stefan, ever the polite one, says. As they turn to go, Lee glances over at her brother’s schedule. Seems they have all but one class together--Lee has art and Stefan a creative writing course. That works.

“You’re welcome,’ The secretary says, her eyes landing on the two teens in the hall. “Ahh! Miss Bennett, Miss Gilbert I’m glad you’re here. Do you think you could show our two newest students around?” She stands up from behind her desk to walk around to the siblings. “This is Lee and Stefan Salvatore. I think they both have a few classes with you both.” Lee takes in who she now know as a Bennett witch, why the magic felt warm. She gives the teen a charming smile before the pull is to much, her head being forced to turn to the brunette beside her. The vampire takes her in, all she can see is someone new. Lee doesn’t see Katherine when she looks at her. “Hi,” The charming smile turning into a much softer one. “I’m Lee.” She offers her hand to the girl.

#v: outsiders & living in a broken world #r:elena #rs: her humanity #s: someone to light your path #tw:mentions of violence #tw: violent thoughts #tw: vampire

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duitle · 2 years

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Swampcon - Remastered

No waaaaaay, they turned pikachu into a real thing???

Welcome to my Swampcon post! This last weekend, I had the opportunity to attend and volunteer at the first Swampcon since 2019. So many cool cosplay, a lot of dangerously tempting merch, and amazing artwork! Not to mention the fascinating panels, performances, and contests. Honestly can’t wait for next year!

I think the biggest interaction I had with a fandom was seeing one of the vendors cosplaying at the convention. In the vendor hall, one of the ladies had a stand selling keychains and marketing herself as a custom cosplay designer. Not only did she have costume components of other characters, she was also cosplaying as Big Mom from One Piece. I had seen her walk into the hall previously and just assumed she was another attendee. She had her sword, the cloud, and the costume to go along with it. Despite what she had on her stand, the thing that stood apart was her presentation of these One Piece stickers. It didn’t fit in with the rest of her items on display, but seeing her cosplay, I’m assuming she really likes the series. Honestly, I can’t blame her, One Piece is my main pull into anime. Seeing her cosplay and be so open about what fandom she prefers was pretty cool and made me kinda wish I had cosplayed as something too. On top of that, I overheard a lot of people in the hall just talking about the series. People were popping in and out of this one conversation despite them being strangers. Seeing how a fandom is able to form such a close community without these people ever knowing each other was a amazing. Similarly, I saw people, and I was people, asking to take pictures with cosplayers that I thought were either the most well-made or of characters I really loved. Its just an overall appreciation for art that people want to reproduce and share through cosplay and discussion.

But apart from the cosplayers and actual people in the convention, the idea of Fandom was also prevalent in the actual products being sold. The most apparent of these were the art vendors. All of the artists there had impressive skills and reproduced depiction of the things they most loved. The people who loved the same series / characters bought their items. It was just like in Eizouken, when the students were buying fan made products. I for one got some stickers and a etching of a cat. Its through these physical artistic means that the elements of a series are reproduced and a fandom begins to appropriate these characters into a culture outside of the original authors canon. It helps expand a community and strengthens it at the same time. Though, when it came to the vendors, I had an interesting converstation with a figurine seller. The man talked about the figure brands and how different ones produce different figures that can range in quality. He was a real connoisseur when it came to this stuff and reminded me of the idea of cultural capital. Outside of these conventions, fandom, and their communities, that type of knowledge isn’t really useful in the sense of producing an income. Its because these fandoms exists that he can use that knowledge to make a living for himself, outside of the mainstream capital.

When it comes to the formation of youth culture, I think the most interesting experience I had was seeing someone wearing a My Little Pony outfit. I didn’t know that series was still something people thought about or liked in the present. Similarly, I saw a girl cosplaying as Amy from the Sonic series. Apart from them, most of the people there were part a series that could be identified throughout the entire con. The idea of a series losing popularity, a fandom dying, and a culture disappearing hadn’t really occurred to me. What happens then? I think modern youth culture is great in that things that were old or past their prime can become mainstream again. Repping the cosplay for these old series is a way to find others who still love it and, like Grave of the Fireflies, commemorate that fandom.

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deathisanartmetzli · 3 years

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Two for One || Bex & Metzli

TIMING: Current

PARTIES: @inbextween @deathisanartmetzli

SUMMARY: Metzli gets more than just a donation from Bex, and they really don’t like it.

CONTAINS: TW- Mentions of Child Death, Mentions of Parental Death, Mentions of Domestic Abuse, Mentions of Homophobia and Transphobia, Vampire Compelling-

It wasn’t technically nerves that coursed through Bex as the uber pulled up to the art gallery, but there was a sense of excitement tingeing her cheeks. On Bex, it could have easily been mistaken for anxiety or nerves, as she stared wide-eyed up at the sign above the doors. There were so many things she didn’t know about White Crest and it’s people, and she found herself almost desperate to know them. Desperate to know the world she was always supposed to be part of. Anyone who offered even a morsel of that was on her list of people to talk to, to befriend, to know. Metzli was at the top of the list, if only because they hadn’t beat around the bush with anything, and Bex appreciated the candor. As well as the shmoozing. It wasn’t necessary, she’d write them a check for whatever amount they wanted, but it was still...flattering. She was still letting herself get used to being okay with being openly out, and it felt nice, she supposed, to be seen in that way. Not that she needed it! Mina was more than enough, and Bex wasn’t that daft (though she still was holding out hope that maybe Metzli was just being nice, maybe they were just trying to butter her up and just wanted to be her friend), but as she always did, she wanted to give them a chance, first. She couldn’t help it, it was as much a flaw as it was a strength. She supposed it was only a matter of time before it bit her in the ass, but she was really hoping that wouldn’t be the case here.

Pushing the front door open, Bex glanced up as the bell chimed to announce her arrival. It was quiet inside, no one else was really around, and she was grateful for that-- she still had a hard time in crowds, fearing the magic that pulsed beneath her fingers, and what harm it could do to people. But Metzli was a vampire, and her magic was mostly harmless against the undead. Which, again, both good and bad. Sai hadn’t taught her any barrier spells yet, so she really had no way to defend herself, other than the can of mace she always carried in her purse. It was a last resort only, though.

Bex perked up when she heard footsteps approaching and grinned, smoothing down the fringes of her dress. “Hi! It’s-- you’re Metzli, right? It’s me. Bex. But you probably already figured that out. Sorry. I’m much better at talking online.” Held her hand out. “It’s nice to finally meet you for, like, real!”

The prospect of meeting Bex in person was one that Metzli looked forward to greatly. Not only was she going to donate to the gallery, but she was a possible fun friend to get…close to. Needless to say, when Bex walked through the door, the vampire was excited, no, tantalizingly thrilled. “Yes, I am. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Bex.” They took Bex’s hand, their hand firm and extremely cold. Acting on their dated customs, they bowed and laid a gentle kiss to the back of her hand. Their smile was one that could win the hearts of most, and could melt even the coldest of them.

Metzli always wore suits to the gallery, but chose the best ones this week in anticipation of this meeting. Today they sported a blue suit with a plaid pattern, a black tie, and black dress shoes to complete the ensemble. Trying to “put their best foot forward,” if you will. “You’re certainly an energetic one. I like that.” Their smile grew wider, not too wide as to cause alarm, but enough to make the warmth grow. “Welcome to my gallery,” Arms extended as they gestured to the open building. “Would you like anything to drink before I give you the tour? Water, wine?” They asked, adjusting the cuffs of their shirt.

“I keep an assortment of reds, but I have some sparkling whites if you prefer,” Metzli continued, trying to be the best host possible. Though Bex did say she would donate regardless, the vampire had to put on a show.

Bex had eyes, good eye sight at that, and they stuck on Metzli’s form as they approached, on the rather suave suit they were wearing, and she felt her inside begin to vibrate. Maybe this was a bad idea. This could go bad very quickly. Really, all she had to do to solve her problem was tell Metzli she had a girlfriend, but how was she supposed to insert that into casual conversation? And why was it that the words still stuck in her throat? She glanced around the gallery again and found it still empty and wondered how long it would take her mind-- and her body-- to stop sending alarms to run away when confronted publicly with her queerness. But it was just...looking. Nothing would happen. She could look. And so she looked.

“Oh, well, don’t get too excited. Sometimes my energy can be a lot. I don’t shut up half the time and then most of the time I don’t even realize I’m not shutting up or talking too much. It’s really kind of a drag. Blessing and a curse? It’s-- see? I’m kind of already doing it.” She took Metzli’s hand to shut herself up and felt a chill run up her arm, into her spine. They felt like Morgan’s hands, cool, soft, but where Morgan’s grip was always gentle, Metzli’s was firm. The swift kiss to the back of her hand just as cold, despite the warmth now in her cheeks. “I-I’m okay right now! Why don’t we just save the drinking for later?”

Her dress-- a nice dress, but certainly not her nicest-- was a blue number, with a floral pattern and frilly, short sleeves. She liked to dress up nice-- an old habit she didn’t really know how to break-- but now she was wondering if, maybe, a more casual outfit would’ve been a better idea. “So how long have you been doing art? Did you own a gallery before this? Where did you live before this?”

Metzli could always tell when they were being checked out, which was often. Confidence emanated from them as they ogled back, a little more subtly. The way Bex stuttered only made them feel empowered, like they had her right where they wanted her. It was something they enjoyed a lot, maybe too much. “As you wish, cariña.” They replied flirtatiously and motioned for her to follow them.

“Please, follow me. I’ll answer your questions along the way as I lead you through the current showings, and maybe if you want, I can show you…the secret gallery. But that’ll have to wait until the end.” Metzli guided Bex down a hallway that led to a large, open room filled with sculptures and paintings. “In this section, I have a collection of works by local artists. Several of which were donated, and many others purchased right from the artists themselves. And if you look in the back corner, you’ll see my most recent painting.” A large painting of a decaying crow was on display. So far it had received much praise and was one of their favorites as of yet.

“As for your current questions, I’ve been practicing art, painting in particular, for about 90 years. After roaming for a bit once I left my clan, I decided to open my first gallery, this very one. I traveled all the way from Jalisco, Mexico. I resided there until I heard of White Crest. It took a while, but I finally made it here. Word travels far when it comes to special places.”

It was just Metzli being nice, Bex told herself. Obviously that’s all it was. They were just being nice because people could just be nice without any ulterior motive. Bex truly believed that. She really wanted to believe that right now. She could convince herself of that. Why would anyone want to flirt with her anyway? Especially a vampire who owned their own art gallery and had probably seen so much in the world. Someone like Bex wasn’t worth that time or effort. They were just being nice because Bex was donating to their gallery, that was all. Surely that was all.

She followed behind Metzli and stepped into the large room that displayed, as they explained it, the local works. Her gaze traced across all the different pieces on display, mouth slightly agape. She hadn’t known there were so many talented people right here in White Crest, but, really, what did she know about White Crest? Not much. It had been stolen from her. She was drawn towards a sculpture in the middle, of some sort of nightmarish, amorphous creature. Her eyes skated over the piece and she longed to reach out and touch it, but held herself back, looking up again when Metzli pointed out their own work.

“Oh, you painted that one!?” She moved quickly towards it, drawn in by the glowing red eye of the crow. It looked half dead, perhaps decaying, encompassing the canvas, and Bex stared at it in wonder. She’d always wished her hands were disciplined enough to put down onto paper what was in her mind, her dreams. Drawing maps of made-up worlds hardly counted. She glanced back over at Metzli, realizing how close she’d gotten to the painting and stepped away. “It’s beautiful.”

Bex had almost forgotten Metzli’s undead-ness, and balked for only a moment when they announced they’d been at this for ninety years. Her grandmother wasn’t even that old. Hands skated over the ridges of the painting, only touching the air in front of it as if she were a ghost. “What did you do before, then?” Looked back over at Metzli, eyes wide with wonder. “Ninety years is a long time. I can’t even imagine being alive for that long, let alone practicing something for all that time…”

Metzli watched as Bex marveled at their painting. Their skill always did a number on women. It was one of the many benefits of honing it. “Before? Oh, well…I didn’t do much of anything besides what my master commanded. Going into those details is not something I will do, though.” Their arms rested behind their back as they spoke, and their voice took on a more serious tone. Memories of that time flooded their mind, making them squeeze their eyes shut to push them away.

Once their eyes opened again, they slapped a smile on their face and turned to face the other pieces in the gallery. “Thank you for your praise. It’s always a pleasure to see my art taken so well.” Metzli continued walking away, motioning Bex once again to follow them. “Next I’ll show you the works I’ve collected nationwide, and even internationally. The collection is smaller, but still striking.”

They felt a little off. The flashes of memories long past made their facade wane slightly and they used the short walk to collect themselves. Showing the gallery to Bex was supposed to be an easy way to get money and possibly a fun time for the night. It was not supposed to make them feel any sort of way. Especially not sad. Lucky for Metzli, the moment of sorrow quickly passed and they moved on. “Do you have any further questions?”

Bex drew her brows in concern, worried she might’ve said something that upset Metzli. She had never been any good at telling people’s emotions from their faces, but the one thing she could recognize aside from anger-- perhaps even more so than-- was sorrow. It passed briefly over Metzli’s face and Bex turned her gaze away, pretending to have not seen it at all. Sorrow was something felt in solitude. It didn’t need to be looked at the way art was. She shifted her gaze back up when Metzli spoke up again, and Bex moved away from the painting and towards them. “It’s incredible,” she said again, stealing one more glance at it before they exited the room. “You’re incredible.”

As they walked, Bex wondered. She couldn’t help it. Her mind raced away with thoughts all the time, and Metzli’s words were making trails through her mind like a flood. Their master, whatever that meant, had made them do things. Probably things they hadn’t wanted to do, from the sound of it. Bex could understand that. Maybe too closely. Her parents had controlled everything about her life, so much to the point that the freedom she now enjoyed felt wrong. She didn’t know what to do with it. She blinked from her thoughts when Metzli spoke up again and found herself in a new room. “Oh, um-- you mentioned that you do, like, community stuff. Art classes. What kind of classes are they? And how often? Do you do them here? If you need a bigger space, I could probably give you the money for that. And supplies. Really, just, whatever you might need. I think a place like this is worth investing in.” She smiled, gently, sweetly. Her father would’ve called this a waste and her mother would have scolded her, but they weren’t around anymore, and even if Bex didn’t know how to feel about her new found freedom, she wasn't going to waste it.

Bex’s comment didn’t go unheard, but with their ego, they were just going to gloss over it so they wouldn’t blow their cover. “Oh, the art classes are held in these two rooms.” Metzli trotted over to two doors next to each other. “Currently only one is being used for now. I’m setting up the other for sculpture classes. Everything has been purchased out of my own pocket, so it’s taking longer than I’d like. But, the painting classes are held every Tuesday and Thursday. Rookies on Tuesday’s and Novices on Thursday’s. With your donation I’ll be able to hire a sculpting teacher and continue to purchase the supplies necessary.”

The excitement in Metzli’s voice surprised them. Crest Works Art was their pride and joy. It was their dream to use art to heal, only themselves and maybe a few others inadvertently, but that was something for them to know, not anyone else. “I was honestly only expecting a donation of five grand, which is more than enough.” The truth of the matter was that they were lowballing in hopes of getting more. The money would help the gallery but the leftovers would go to them. But the more they discussed the matter, the more they wanted it for the gallery. What the hell was going on?

“Whatever you see best though, is just fine. It would be an honor to take a donation from Miss Not-So-Fragile.” Metzli referenced an earlier message the two shared, clearly turning on their charm again. It was an attempt to get back in the zone, get back to what they were supposed to be doing. Which was not getting lost in pointless emotions.

“Out of your own pocket? Wow, you must really love this place,” Bex sighed, a bit of a dreamy tone to her voice as she did. She reached out and slid her fingers along the cool wall, between two of the paintings. Sometimes, she liked to believe she could feel the energy in the world, she was supposed to be able to, as a spellcaster. When she was outside, she could swear she could hear the thrum of the earth, as energy flowed through it, like invisible rivers. It was in everything. She wished she could feel that all the time, like the moonlight with Sai, and the warmth with Mina. “White Crest is lucky to have you here,” she said again, smiling.

“Oh, only five-thousand?” Bex didn’t really know how much was a good donation amount, but in the end, she’d decided she didn’t really care. If it meant keeping a place like this open and running, she’d give whatever. If she could be the person helping someone achieve their dream, then of course she would help them. She turned away from the wall and headed towards Metzli again, in the middle of the room. She chuckled, hiding her face behind her hand for a moment. “You know you don’t have to keep buttering me up,” she stated, pulling her wallet out, “I wouldn’t have come if I didn’t like you or didn’t want to do this.” Because she had the ability to choose to do that now. No one to tell her how to live her life. “How’s 50k?”

“It’s not buttering up if I’m enjoying it.” The way Bex just didn’t see how Metzli was laying it on super thick with the flirting was astounding. Completely baffled, they chuckled and were going to continue to flirt when Bex gave her offer. 50k? 50k? They were expecting a higher amount than five thousand, but that? “Holy shit,” was all that was muttered in that moment. “A-are you sure?!”

Metzli didn’t mean to be so loud, but the plan had gone well, too well in fact. Sure they were confident, but it never got them something of this magnitude. “Sorry, sorry. Just wasn’t expecting that.” They chuckled out of pure disbelief. Fooling Bex had obviously paid off, but it was much more than that now. Having a donation of that amount meant they could do more than just the few things they mentioned. This could be the breakthrough the gallery needed to be as successful as they had dreamed. Their master, just like Bex’s parents had no hold on her, had no hold on them. Not anymore.

For a moment, the facade fell again, and actual gratitude showed on Metzli’s face. Bowing like before, they took Bex’s hand and pressed another kiss to the back of her hand. This time though, their hold was gentle, maybe even hinging on being soft. “Thank you, Bex.”

That look right there was what Bex cared about the most. Through the astonishment, it was the look of hope that made Bex’s heart soar. She wanted to give people hope. Hope that they could finally have something good. It was like she’d told Bly-- hope was never bad, it couldn’t be, by nature. Bex wanted to truly believe that. She did. It was nice, too, to watch Metzli trip over their words and stutter, instead of her. She was usually so bad at talking, but something about this place had rendered Bex relatively quiet as she observed the space around her. The paintings, the sculptures, the pictures. They were worth investing in, they were worth giving back to. “I’m sure,” she answered, smiling. She scribbled on the check, before tearing one out and handing it to Metzli. “I really hate saying this, but that’s barely even a dent in the wallet. Like I told you, no one needs this much money. I’d give you more if I didn’t think you’d pass out, or the government wouldn’t try and take it all for taxes.”

Bex wasn’t expecting another bow, and she stayed frozen a moment as Metzli leaned down to kiss the back of her hand again. It felt somehow gentler this time. She felt her face flush and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, chuckling nervously. “Y-you don’t have to thank me! Honest. I’m not doing this for the thanks. I just want to give back to the community and the town and-- and people. People who deserve it.” This was just what people did, right? This was just being nice. People had different customs, was all. “I-- I do expect special treatment when I show up to the beginner painting classes, though.”

And just like that, Metzli knew they had done it again. Another successful event that flustered the naive woman. That was what they were trying to twist it into at least. Gratitude filled their cold heart, but they were determined to believe this was all according to their plan to seduce a millionaire. “Special treatment for you? You’ll get that any time, anywhere, cariña.” A flair of their accent came through and they cleared their throat to breeze past it.

Taking the check, they eyed it with amazement before pocketing it into the inside of their suit jacket. “Maybe we can leave the secret gallery for another time. After such a gracious donation, I believe I’d like to celebrate with a drink. What do you say? The Bloody Stake is calling to us.” Metzli’s charm was subtle and had an air about it that made people want to listen, want to do what they said. Or was that just their compelling? No, that wasn’t it, not now. That was for very special occasions. This was just their natural personality.

Metzli just hoped their luck continued into the night. Having a woman like Bex at their disposal would prove to be beneficial. They’d have to monitor how they approached everything. A one night stand may not be in the cards if Bex was as sweet as she appeared to be. Not to mention that could ruin any chance of them reaping the benefits of having Bex on their side.

Bex stared for a long moment, pretending that the word was just a common thing people from Mexico said. It was just like when people called her sweetheart or darling. That was all. The heat in her cheeks was just from her anxiety, she was always anxious, Morgan said she needed medication for her anxiety. So, clearly, it was just that. She heard the tint of Metzli’s accent and wondered why they tried to cover it up, but didn’t want to ask.

“You know, I’m only a little worried about what might be in this secret gallery,” she finally said, clearing her throat, “more so curious, though. But-- you know, drinks sound nice, too. I could do drinks.” Metzli was smooth, Bex had to admit it, but she was still clinging to the idea that this was just two people getting drinks and nothing more. Like they said, they just wanted to celebrate. Bex could get on board with that, and the idea of drowning the stupid thoughts in her head about her mother for just one night was the most compelling part of it all. But there was also just something...compelling about Metzli, that made Bex want to just say yes and follow them and ignore the alarms going off in her head. They were stupid alarms and she wanted to stop listening to them. She was free now, she could do what she wanted.

After a moment, once the check was tucked safely away, Bex curtsied slightly as she motioned towards the door. “Shall we? Is it close enough to walk?”

The crimson on Bex’s cheeks was noticeable on visual alone, but Metzli heard the rush of blood after her heartbeat picked up. With a bright smile, they walked over to a light switch, and turned it off. Upon this action, a blue light was activated, subtly revealing a door. Due to the light from the windows and other fixtures, it was a little hard to see. “The secret gallery is right behind this door. There’s nothing to worry about, though. Many protective measures have been taken so that the cursed works stay put. Maybe after drinks, we can come here and I can show you.”

As instantly as the door appeared, it disappeared just the same with another flick of the switch. “The bar isn’t walking distance, but I have a car that I can drive us in, if you’re comfortable enough. It’s the black Mercedes out front.” Metzli said, using a tone as smooth and sweet as saccharine. Clasping their arms behind their back, they guided Bex back to the front so they could get to their office. “Give me a moment so I can dress down a little.”

Metzli faded into their office for a moment, removing their tie and suit jacket, and unbuttoning their shirt to their sternum. It revealed a portion of their clan tattoo, a custom ankh with three strikes through it. A tattoo they were ashamed of, but figured there was no use hiding it. With a shrug, all the lights were shut off and they exited their office. “Have you decided whether or not you’ll ride with me, Miss Not-So-Fragile?”

Bex felt that insatiable tug of curiosity again when the lights flickered out. Her heartbeat quickened even more as she looked at the door, now illuminated in blue light-- even took a step towards it-- before the lights were turned back on and Metzli was ushering her back towards the front. “Cursed!?” she asked, brows raising. She wanted to see those, she definitely wanted to see those. She wanted to know if they felt like magic, if she could sense the magic infused in them. She wondered what kind of curses they were. She wondered who put them on them. There was so much she wanted to know.

Instead, she stood and waited patiently while Metzli changed, her eyes flicking back and forth between the office door they’d disappeared behind, and the hallway that led to the room with the secret door. She perked back up when Metzli returned and beamed a smile. “Well, considering I didn’t drive here, I think that might be the best idea.” She didn’t need to mention that she couldn’t drive, and a small part of her worried how she might be getting home later, but a bigger part of her just didn’t care. Maybe the walk would be nice. She headed towards the door, motioning towards Metzli, hands clasped together as she leaned back against the door, hearing the little bell chime once again when it opened slightly. She glanced one more time towards where the secret door was. “Ready?”

“Ready indeed,” Metzli said, following Bex out the door, and promptly locking it. The alarm was set and they were good to go. As per usual, they opened the passenger door for Bex. It was another dated custom, but it always did well with the female population. “Your chariot awaits,” They joked, and went on to the driver’s side once Bex was set up.

Metzli never bothered with a seatbelt, there was no point. The only thing that could hurt them right now was that damn sun, but they would be rid of that monstrosity in a matter of minutes. Turning over the engine, they shifted the car into drive, and began the commute to the bar. “We’re not too far by car, so we’ll be there soon.” A smile spread over their lips as they moved their hand towards Bex’s thigh, no, the gear shift actually. With a flick of their wrist, the gears changed and the car sped closer to their destination.

Just like they said, the two arrived quickly and Metzli winced at the exposure to the sun again. “Let’s get in quickly. The sun…stings.” Thanks to the time of day, which was 5pm, the toxic sphere would linger for a few hours more. But soon they’d be greeted with a dark room and the perfect drinks, with a woman they had just taken 50k from. Happily, they gently pressed their hand to the small of Bex’s back and guided her towards the door.

It was just polite, really, for someone to open the door for her, right? Bex slid into the car, just as suave and nice as she thought someone like Metzli might own, and folded her hands into her lap, adjusting the edge of her dress to rest over her thigh. She swallowed. This was fine, it was just someone taking her for a drink, it didn’t have to be anything more than that. She kept telling herself that. She would never do anything to be unfaithful to Mina, she loved Mina, this wasn’t anything like that. After all, all Bex wanted was a friend.

She kept her eyes on the road, barely noticed Metzli’s hand moving towards her, as she tried to keep her mind calm. It kept going back to that secret room, or to the way Metzli looked at her, or to Mina back home, still frightened over the warden. Or to her mom. They were all things she wanted to forget about for tonight. She just wanted one night where she didn’t have to think about anything stressful, anything painful, anything hard. Finally, the car pulled up and Bex felt her body loosen, not even realizing how tense she’d become.

She slipped from the car and adjusted herself again, feeling a shiver run up her back when Metzli’s hand came to rest on it. She shuffled slightly, but didn’t move away, instead moving quickly towards the door and slipping inside. Metzli’s chivalry was a little old-fashioned, but that was what Bex had grown up with. The inside of the bar was dark, and red-- a lot of red. Bex glanced around, as eyes turned on her. They could smell her, she realized, her humanness. Could they smell her magic, too? She looked back at Metzli. “Where uh-- where should we sit?”

The effect Metzli was having on Bex was obvious in every flutter of her heart, and every hitch of breath. She didn’t need to utter a word of her attraction, they already had it confirmed. With eyes on the two, they bent down at the waist to whisper on Bex’s ear. “No one will touch you so long as I’m around. You don’t have to worry, okay?” They attempted to reassure her, knowing she was probably a little nervous. No. It was to show their dominance in the bar. It was an attractive trait. That’s all. “We can sit in a booth in the back corner. I see that it’s free right now, but let’s get drinks first.”

With their hand still in place, they guided Bex to the bar and requested a special red wine for themselves, and then motioned to Bex. “And you? What would you like, cariña?” An elbow propped them up as they leaned on the bar, removing their hand from her back finally. The bartender made Metzli’s drink as they waited for Bex’s request.

It was comforting to know and Bex felt herself relaxing a bit more. She wondered if it was the check in Metzli’s pocket that was providing her sanctuary here, or something else. Not that Bex was scared-- it wasn’t fear of someone trying to hurt her, she’d been attacked by a vampire before, but that woman had been cruel, perhaps feral, and she wasn’t going to let one incident color her views on vampires-- but the attention drawn to her made her anxiety rocket. She wasn’t used to being perceived like this, it made her stomach churn a little. She wished she wasn’t always so self-conscious. Did they know? Could they see? Could they tell?

She shuffled closer to Metzli subconsciously and looked across the bartop towards the bartender. “Uh, vodka cranberry,” she ordered, leaning against the bar. Drummed her fingers on the bartop. This is where Kyle had worked. In fact, the alley behind it was where he’d attacked her, causing the scarring that was probably visible on her chest. She tried not to think about that. “So you come here a lot? I can see why. Totally has that vampy vibe. Do they serve actual blood here?” she asked, curious.

“Yes, they do. That’s what makes my wine special, actually. Makes partying much more fun when the drinks taste divine.” Metzli replied, sipping on their wine. Instantly, their eyes turned red and fangs extended from their canines. “Hope this doesn’t put you off. It feels like taking off a mask when I can do this freely.” They smiled and requested a special shot and a tequila shot for Bex. Gathering the shots and their wine, they pointed with their head and walked towards the booth they mentioned when the two first entered.

Metzli sat across from Bex and carefully placed all the drinks down. “Okay, I got these for us. Don’t drink this one though. You’ll hate it,” A small chuckle escaped their lips as they scooted their shot closer to them. “To art and to new friendship,” They raised their shot, which prompted Bex to clink hers with Metzli’s. Today had been fantastic so far, and they hoped it would only get better. Much better.

“You did say you wanted to get too wasted, right?” Another chuckle escaped right before taking their bloody concoction of inebriation.

“Can you taste normal food? I know a zombie and they say they can’t taste like, normal human food anymore. Is it like that for you?” Bex was blurting the questions before she could help herself, staring perhaps a little too excitedly as fangs formed in their mouth and eyes shimmered red. She remembered how the other woman’s face had looked when Bex had seen her outside the library, eyes glinting through the dark at her before teeth sunk into her neck. She blinked and looked away. “Oh, no! You’re totally fine! I don’t mind at all. I think it’s actually pretty cool,” she said, smiling. If she could trust Milo, she could trust Metzli. She was trying to get over all that, anyway. If she could trust Kyle, she could trust others. And she did, trust Kyle. “Is it, like, painful? To hold it in?”

She already felt more questions bubbling in her throat, but held them back for now, following Metzli back to the booth they’d pointed out earlier. Her eyes fell from Metzli’s face to the drinks and the shot that was handed to her. She had said that, hadn’t she? “To art and friendship.”Lifted her shot glass and clinked it to Metzli’s before downing it in one gulp, wincing only a little. “Tequila always burns more than I remember,” she admitted, chuckling slightly as she bit down into the lime that had come with it.

“Do different blood types taste different?” she asked, watching Metzli partake in their special wine, eyes wide, once again, with curiosity.

“You sure have a lot of questions, don’t you?” Metzli teased with a smile, and continued on to answer everything once the shots were taken. Bex’s face at the shot made them laugh right as they answered. “Can’t really taste normal food. Haven’t been able to since I was…I guess 20? I don’t remember. I really do miss conchas and coffee though. They were my favorite.” Memories of the late night sweet bread and coffee made them smile to themselves. Some memories were just too sweet to not smile at. “As for different blood types, yeah they do taste different. Blood from slayers tastes especially euphoric.”

Even more memories raced through their head, until a particular memory made their face fall. The one and only slayer they had killed themselves wasn’t even a slayer yet. Their master convinced them it was for the betterment of the clan, that it would save countless of vampiric lives. “But I’ve only ever had a few tastes,” Metzli attempted to shake free of the sorrowful hold the memory had on them. It frustrated them that they kept behaving this way.

“Um…are you going to finally tell me what you are? It’s only fair since you know what I am.” Their signature smile wasn’t as strong, but the attempt was there. They just wanted to move on.

“Oh, s-sorry! I can totally stop if it’s making you uncomfortable, I just kinda always do this,” Bex stumbled through the explanation, “I ask a lot of questions. I don’t mean to! I just get-- excited?” She gave a sheepish grin. “I like learning about new things and people and, well, I mean, you’re just such a fascinating person! I’ve met a lot of people here that I think are interesting or amazing, but none like you. I do even know another vampire, but they’re kinda new to it.” She paused, stopped herself from rambling more by picking up her drink and hovering it by her lips as she took a large gulp. That felt better. She needed to stop being so annoying. Fingers wrung together for a moment. “Sorry. I ramble a lot.”

The mention of slayers made Bex stiffen. She didn’t really think about how vampires-- and zombies, in turn-- could hurt hunters in the way the hunters themselves tried to keep them from doing. She swallowed. She wanted to ask more, but that distantly sad look was on Metzli’s face again, so she clenched her jaw shut instead.

When the subject turned on her, she welcomed it, even if it made her heart beat a little faster again. “What? You haven’t guessed yet?” she teased, smiling, hoping to lighten the mood after her slip up. “Obviously I’m some sort of human. A special kind.” A kind she was still learning to love, but her magic didn’t have to be a terrible thing-- that was the lesson she’d finally learned. Her magic could be special, if she let it.

“No, no. Don’t be sorry. You know what?” Metzli groaned, feeling like they were behaving like a vampire with a stupid soul. What they did was nothing. It was in their nature, so what did it matter in the long run? “Rambling is good. At least what you have on your mind will get out. Better that way.” Before continuing, they motioned for the bartender for refills and two more shots. Drinks would help, they were sure of it. “You did nothing wrong. It’s just—and you know, we’re gonna get back to what you are, but—“ They cut themselves off with a sip of their wine.

“Look, I don’t have a soul. And I did that by killing a slayer. But the kid wasn’t a slayer yet. Actually, they weren’t a slayer at all. My master said they were though. Greater good for my clan and all that. My master wanted me to believe that, so I did. I’m not supposed to feel bad, and for a stupid second, I did. What’s a stupid kid’s life matter anyway?” Metzli practically spat the last few words out, sounding like they were trying to convince themselves more than anyone else.

As they always did when they were frustrated, they combed their hand through their hair, making it fluff up a tiny bit more. Metzli was feeling. They were actually feeling. This wasn’t right. “Now I’m rambling. Puta madre.” The drinks came at just the right time and they downed the wine in their hand before reaching for the shot and taking it. “You can leave now if you want. Nice vampire facade over.” For once, they had actually given up and didn’t care about an easy lay or even about the benefits they could reap. What the hell is going on.

Bex was quiet was Metzli explained. She didn’t really know or understand what it meant to not have a soul, or that vampires could get rid of them. Could zombies? Could fae? Could humans? What was a soul, anyway? Was Bex just a soul whenever she left her body? What did a soul give a person, or make a person? She ruffled her brow, tapped her fingers on the side of her glass in thought. “I don’t want to leave,” she finally said, and, really, there’d never been any point in Metzli’s explanation that had made her want to. Maybe that was the wrong response, but like Bex had said several times before, she wanted to give people chances. As many as they needed. And Metzli had done nothing to Bex to indicate that they wanted to hurt her or anything like that. So what reason did Bex have to leave? “None of what you said makes me want to leave.”

She smiled gently, licking her lips as she took another sip. “I don’t, I mean-- that’s a lot. That you just-- told me. And, really, it feels nice to know you trusted me enough to tell me that. And I don’t think any of it makes you, like, a bad person? If-- if someone made you do it, it’s not your fault, you know.” They were words she’d said to MIna, as well. It didn’t matter how many people her father had led her to help kill, that blood wasn’t on Mina’s hands. She had been manipulated by someone who she thought she loved, and she had been a child. None of that was her fault. None of that sounded like Metzli’s fault. “It’s not bad for...believing in something someone you trusted told you to do. If it was, then I guess I’m bad, too, because I spent pretty much my entire life doing whatever my mom wanted me to do, only to find out that she wasn’t even my real mom.”

And then, in a relatively bold and perhaps stupid gesture, Bex leaned forward and reached across the table, putting her hands over Metzli’s on their glass. “People are just people,” she shrugged, “nice and good and bad are circumstantial things.”

Bex’s little speech made Metzli want to rip off their ears and end their misery. It was a load of bullshit. They couldn’t do that though, and so they continued to suffer. Having no soul made them have no empathy and not feel much of anything really. But somehow, someway, Bex made something snap. “You’re crazy, you know that? Having no soul means I have no remorse. I have no empathy. Everything I do is self serving.” They tried to get that point across, more so to see what she would do. The curiosity won over any want to keep her around for the benefits.

“Even knowing that, you don’t wanna run?” It baffled them, but it also amused them. Bex was so naive and innocent. Her touch only further proved that, and fed into the want to do more with her. “Frankly, it does make me a bad person. I do bad things with no remorse. Hypothetically, I could kill you now and it wouldn’t bother me. I’d feel nothing.” Knowing this might incite fear, Metzli rose from their seat and got into her booth. “Does that not scare you, even a little?” Their brow arched in curiosity and their arm swung around the top of the seat, letting a hand rest on Bex’s shoulder.

“Sometimes people aren’t just people. Sometimes, they’re cold monsters.” This was the most honest Metzli had been all night, but were fairly positive it would fly over Bex’s head.

“Empathy is a learned skill,” Bex said, tracing her finger along the rim of her glass. Everything Metzli was describing just sounded like the kind of person her mother was, but her mother had chosen to be that way, even with a soul. She didn’t know what it meant, that Metzli seemed better even without one, but it crinkled her brow and made the anger that was always in the pit of her stomach taste sour. She took another long sip of her drink, ready to feel the buzz. “Even if you can’t feel it, you can still know it and understand it. I think you...want people to think you’re a bad person.” But Bex didn’t believe bad and good were so simple, so easy. Maybe society told Metzli they were bad, but, really, what made them bad? She drummed her fingers on her glass again. The more she drank, the less anxious she got. The more bold. She licked her lips.

“If that’s how you want to live your life, then that’s fine. I don’t really have any room to judge. It doesn’t matter to me, anyway. Not really. So, no,” she stated firmly, her eyes watching as Metzli stood up from the booth, “I don’t want to run.” Even if her legs began to tingle and her heart pounded as Metzli slid into the booth next to her. She turned her face away and took another drink. “If you really wanted to kill me, you would’ve done it right after I handed you that check.” She pointed towards Metzli’s breast pocket, knowing it was in the suit jacket they’d left back in the gallery.

“I don’t think you’d kill me,” she said, “I’m not afraid of you.” She turned to look at Metzli, meeting their eyes. “People choose to be monsters. With or without a soul, it’s still a choice.”

Brows furrowed at Bex’s speech. Not out of annoyance or even anger, but actual understanding. How much Bex had gone through was unknown to Metzli, but it was becoming abundantly clear that the two were more similar than they had initially thought. They didn’t like this. They didn’t like how her words were having an actual effect on them. “Some choices come easier to others. The harder choices. The ones no one wants to make. The—” Words got stuck in their throat. Metzli felt incredibly flustered even with the agitation building. Bex was being the firm and confident one. She had successfully flipped the script right in front of them.

Lost for words, and lost in thought, Metzli’s free hand fell to their sternum lightly grazing their tattoo. “What are you anyway? Besides all this confidence in knowing my character, you’ve got to have some form of power that makes you feel safe, right? You’ve asked all the questions, it’s my turn.” They hoped the attempt to get back on track would work. It felt so off to feel. How on earth was she doing this? Might as well ask.

Metzli waved for another round that was brought swiftly to their booth and they took their shot, scooting the two untaken ones to Bex. “You’ve missed out on two,” they tapped on the drinks, feeling better now that it seemed the conversation was being swayed another direction.

“Sure, yeah,” Bex nodded, “but that’s just life, right? Some of us have to make harder choices. I guess what I believe is...what choice we make is who we are.” And while she’d made the wrong choices at first, she was making the right ones now. She was choosing to fight for herself and her own life, and she was free now. She would always be free. She even felt relatively satisfied when Metzli was lost for words, and she grinned over the rim of her cup. Her eyes followed their hand as it traced along the tattoo on their chest, and after only a moment of staring, Bex realized herself and turned her gaze back to the table and the drinks on it.

“I’m a spellcaster,” she finally answered, reaching out to take one of the two shots that were still calling her name. It warmed her stomach and she licked the lime off her lips. “I sort of just found out recently, but I’m getting better at it. And, to be clear, it’s not that I have magic that I’m not afraid. I just...don’t think of the world in the way other people do, I guess. I’m not afraid to die, if it’s for the sake of learning. My mom used to always say my curiosity was insatiable and that it would ruin me one day,” she breathed in and picked up the last shot. “Probably the only thing she was right about.” She downed the shot and felt her fingers begin to tingle and her head became lighter. She smiled.

“Better?” she asked, scooting the two empty shot glasses toward Metzli.

Bex definitely had a way with words despite how naive she first appeared to be. Hell, she’d somehow moved Metzli a little, and completely baffled them. “You’re not afraid to die? I guess you and I have that in common. Most of the time I just think existence is pointless. Some parts are fun, but most are so mundane or…painful,” The last word came out a little strained, like it hurt to say it. Quickly though, they glossed over it and teased Bex. “You staring at my chest? Perv.” It was a lousy effort, and she could probably see right through it. But probably not too. Metzli wasn’t sure anymore and it could honestly go either way at this point.

“You’re full of surprises, you know that?” With widened eyes, they watched as she took her shots and caressed her shoulder with the hand that draped over the top of the booth. “Spellcaster, huh? That’s impressive. Sucks that most magic is useless against me though. But you did say you’re not scared, right?” More teasing. But now, they wanted to prod more. See if she felt anything other than compassion for the vampire.

With their compelling in full effect, they locked eyes with Bex and continued to speak. “Tell me though, are you as gay as you give off? ‘Cause my gaydar has been going off from the moment we spoke online.” They figured they might as well see if she’s even interested before they move on to more interesting questions.

“Not really, no. I-- don’t want to die, of course. I have people who would mourn and be hurt if I died, but I don’t think I’m afraid to. It’s just a part of life, right?” Bex explained, still unsure herself what it truly meant or why she felt that way. There were so many other things to worry and wonder about in life, death didn’t seem like something she needed to fear. Maybe that was the problem with it all, but she couldn’t bring herself to. If she died right here, right now, then that was simply it for her. There was probably nothing after. She’d probably never know. It wouldn’t hurt her. She didn’t fear her own death, she feared other people’s death. She feared loss. She swallowed, barely aware of the hand on her shoulder through the haze of alcohol now in her stomach. Cheeks tinged and she shook her head. “No! No, I-- I was just-- your hand--” she stuttered out, hiding the blush behind her cup again, subconsciously leaning over the table.

She opened her mouth to say something more about her magic, but those weren’t the words that came out. Instead, she said, “I’m gay. Very gay. I just sort of recently came out, it wasn’t safe before, but it is now. Sort of. Mostly. I think? It’s-- complicated. Because I’m also trans and not everyone is, um-- okay with that, even in the queer community.” She swallowed back the rest of the words. Why had she said all that? She did seem to have looser lips the more she drank. Still, she took another drink. “Do I really give off that much gay vibes?”

Metzli could relate to that, too much even. Their master frowned upon their sexuality, and even forced them to keep their hair long. Finding their identity didn’t come until after they left their clan. That was a freedom that only they could attain by escaping. “Well, you’re very much safe now. And you’re a beautiful woman. Anyone in the queer community that isn’t okay with that is not truly a part of the community.” Every word was honest, and even had hints of sympathy to them. Being who you are can come with a cost, and it looked like Bex had paid that in more ways than one.

“Your gay vibes are off the charts, but that isn’t a bad thing. Not to me at least.” A charming smile was strewn on their face and they gently laid their hand atop hers. If it was out of actual sympathy to comfort or to continue to flirt, they weren’t sure. Not anymore. They wanted to believe it was the latter, so that’s how they approached it, still compelling. “Tell me though, is it just me, or have you actually wanted me to be this close all night? To maybe even kiss you? And if so, just do what you’ve wanted to.” Metzli continued, thinking out loud this time. “I find you attractive, very much so, and you find me attractive too, so why hold it off?” It was rather bold, but now was as good a time as any. Especially with the buzz they had going now.

Bex felt her cheeks growing more flushed at the compliment. She couldn’t ignore it anymore-- Metzli was coming onto her. Suddenly, her heartbeat picked up and her fingers tingled and the alcohol mixed in with her nerves and she felt exposed, in this corner, in this booth. The idea that people could look at her and know, sense it, that she was queer, frightened her. It shouldn’t have. She wanted to be brave. She’d told Mina she could be brave, that she wanted people to know. But not like this, not like this. Still, something compelled her to stay seated as she looked over at Metzli. “I-- I’m glad it’s not a bad thing. Not that I thought you would think that! But, y-you know. It’s-- a lot. Being visible. Knowing that people know.” Especially when she’d tried so hard to hide it. She didn’t have to hide it anymore. She was free. She let out a long breath.

Her body stiffened again at the words. A hand over top hers on the table. Her mind raced, every thought landing on Mina. Still, she said, “I have. You’re very attractive and maybe I did want you to, a l-little.” The words tumbled from her mouth and she felt sick saying them. She didn’t know what to do anymore. “I have a girlfriend!” she squeaked finally. “So I shouldn’t want any of that and I don’t know why I said that and I-- I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” She didn’t know why she was apologizing, but she was. She pulled her hand away and clasped them together. How could she have been so stupid? Of course Metzli wouldn’t simply like her for her. Why would anyone?

Bex rambled some more, and it overwhelmed Metzli this time. The feeling of victory didn’t last long as they saw how all of their actions had actually affected Bex. Fuck. What in the fuck was happening. Did that actually care? No. Yes. No. They saw themselves in her. That’s why they cared. “Girlfriend?” The next few words were important. Especially if they wanted to keep her around. Why did they want to? “Should’ve known a woman like you would be taken. Sorry for the advances.” Moving back to the other side of the booth, they gave Bex space.

“You’re a good person. One of the only truly good people.” Their words were trembled and unsteady. Was this disappointment from feeling like they lost, or because they actually began to genuinely like her? There were way too many questions. None of which had answers. Not answers that came easy, or that Metzli would like. “I should go, shouldn’t I? Don’t mistake this for anything but…but embarrassment, okay? I’m not being nice here. I have no soul, I feel no remorse. Got it?”

“I-- no, it-- it’s okay.” Bex wasn’t sure if that was true, but the disappointment was palpable. She bit her lip and held on tight to her drink, wondering if it might shatter under her grip. She knew how to make it shatter if she wanted to, she was getting good at that. She looked across the table at Metzli. “You didn’t-- you didn’t know. I should’ve just said something earlier. I’m sorry, I just--” but she stopped talking, because she didn’t actually know why she hadn’t said anything earlier. Fear? Anxiety? Or something else? Maybe she’d like it, the attention. She shouldn’t have. She really shouldn’t have. But she had and it tinged her cheeks and she looked down at her lap. “I’m trying to be better, but I’m not really comfortable being so out yet.”

Then Metzli said that thing that so many other people had said to her-- that she was good, maybe too good, truly good-- and Bex let out a long huff of air. “I’m not,” she mumbled, and this was proof, wasn’t it? Because she didn’t want Metzli to leave. She liked them. She wished they’d liked her, too, in a ‘let’s just get drinks’ way. Why did it always have to end this way? Bex wasn’t used to this happening with people who weren’t guys. But Metzli was like her, they understood a side of the world that most people couldn’t. Not even Mina. She met their eyes as they began to stand from the booth.

“I don’t believe that,” she said to them, but it was quiet, and she wasn’t looking at them anymore. “But I can pretend to if that’s what you want.” She swallowed. “And this doesn’t-- change anything. Not for me.” She downed the rest of her drink and pulled out her phone. “Do something good with that money, okay? I like your gallery, I think you deserve the chance.”

The disappointment in Bex’s voice was evident, and again, somehow she tugged at whatever humanity was left in them. “How do you do that?!” Their tone was frustrated but not inherently angry. Usually once Metzli had gotten such sensitive information, they could use it to their advantage. But this information was sensitive in a way that meant something to them too. Both of them were two different results of the same tragedy. And even though tragedy came in different ways, it hurt the same.

“Stop being so…fucking similar! I—I keep seeing the similarities and I just want to actually…whatever!” Metzli wasn’t yelling, but they were whispering loudly in frustration. Sitting back down, they locked eyes with Bex and sighed. “I’m…I’m sorry.” It was a sincere apology. If anyone deserved one, it was Bex. “I think I’m still gonna go, but I want to make it clear that I guess—I guess I want to be friends. No more flirting either.”

Bex was surprised by the sudden outburst, and while it wasn’t loud or angry, she still startled, sitting up straighter. Metzli was grumbling things at her, about her, something about being similar, but Bex had a hard time concentrating through the haze in her head. The shots were hitting her quickly. She needed to be careful about this, or she’d say something she regretted. Like, ‘Don’t go!’ or ‘I don’t mind the flirting’. Because she did and she should, but alcohol made things like that seem okay. Seem better. She blinked, nodded. “Sorry,” she said again, the word a bit slurred. “I do really like you. I want you to be my friend, too.”

There was a genuine surprise at the apology, though, and Bex couldn’t help but smile. It seemed like she was right. Metzli could blab all day about how they had no soul and didn’t feel remorse or guilt, but here they were, apologizing for making advances on her, for possibly ruining something. Not that it would have. “We can be friends,” she agreed. That was what she wanted most, anyway. “You can go, if you want, though. I’ll be okay.” She tapped her fingers on the table, little sparks of magic dancing on her fingertips. The other vampires in here didn’t scare her. The tequila shots had emboldened her, drawing a lazy smile on her face. “No one touches me anymore unless I want them to.”

If Metzli had a heart, it would probably jump a little, but luckily they didn’t. “Ah, fuck. Look, I’ll take you home. You’re drunk, and I—I guess I would feel a little…a little bad if anything even remotely happened. Lurking in the dark is my job. But this doesn’t mean I feel shit. Okay?” They extended their hand, hoping she’d take their offer. There would be no funny business either. She’d get home safely and that would be the end of it.

“You can also visit another time for the secret gallery. Promise.”

Bex took Metzli’s hand. She trusted them, and maybe that would bite her in the ass, but Bex truly believed that they were a good person, at least by her definition. Maybe other people thought they weren’t, but Bex didn’t care about that. As she was becoming a part of this world, she was figuring out for herself what everything meant to her. There were too many different things about, human morality, human values could be applied to much of it. And even if Bex was human, she wanted to understand. She wanted to know. She would let her curiosity guide her to her death. She took Metzli’s hand and stood up, wobbly.

“Well, you did make me take 3 tequila shots in rapid succession,” she slurred, smiling. She prodded Metzli’s shoulder. “I’ll hold you to that promise,” was all she said, before she headed for the exit. No one else had to know about this, she decided. This could just be hers.

#wickedswriting #tw child death #tw parental death #tw domestic abuse #tw homophobia and transphobia #tw vampire compelling #bex

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manabombs · 3 years

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doing this meme for mr captain jack rackham because I think i’m finally ready to try to articulate my feelings, even if no one asked (i’m sorry this post is so long)

Why I like them: So... here’s the thing...

I’m kind of known for dressing like a fancy gay pirate. I’ve made a lot of cosplays over the years, but my pirate outfits are what I’m most infamous for. I met my partner over a decade ago while dressed like a fancy gay pirate. Many of my friends have seen me in pirate outfits more often then they’ve seen me in normal person clothing. Once upon a time I went to art school to study fashion design and I said “yes this is the aesthetic I’m going to cultivate” and now here we are.

When I first heard that they were making a big budget period drama that was a prequel to Treasure Island, I knew that it was going to be My Next Hyperfixation, long before I had any notion of how much queer representation there would be or even how well-written the show would be. But it took me a couple years to finally feel like I was Emotionally Ready to delve into the series (Sometimes I’m bummed that I missed out on participating in the fandom while the show was actively airing, but I’m also glad that I was able to binge it all in its entirely, because the time waiting between seasons would have made me too crazy).

And within those first two or three episodes, I saw that greasy rat man with his mullet and his avant garde facial hair choices and whatever the hell was going on with his wardrobe

and I said to myself “wait... Calico Jack... as in, the pirate known for his fashion sense...”

and I had one of those moments where I realized that this character was so much My Type that I was mad at myself for being so predictable. and I questioned some of the life choices that I made that led me to the point that this greasy rat man the sort of character that I immediately knew that I was going to fall in love with.

But that was only the beginning, because as I watched more of the series, I related to him more and more-- I think it was mannerisms at first, and things like “having to explain the vocabulary you just used to your coworkers” and “I would also like Anne Bonny to be my wife”, but gradually I began to relate to him for increasingly personal reasons. I first watched Black Sails after I had gone through a particularly rough couple years, and the catharsis of watching Jack go from “they pissed on me” to being the character who is ultimately victorious over the series’ main antagonist was an emotionally intense experience. I was already projecting on him by the time that he delivered the “great art has felled empires” monologue, which was the moment I knew that I was deeply invested in this character, and he hadn’t even started showing off his best looks yet. There are, of course, moments where his actions are... morally dubious, but even those instances just managed to make me more attached to him, because I respect the hell out of how well the writers succeeded in making him such a well-developed character.

By the end of the series I realized that I related to this character on an intensely personal level, in a way that I haven’t connected with a fictional character in years, except it felt more profound than the times I’ve connected with fictional characters in the past because this time I was an Adult with a deeper understanding of the Self. I don’t want to sound like a soulbonder or a kinnie or whatever the kids are calling it these days but it really felt like this:

tl;dr I came for the wardrobe and stayed for the waxing about art philosophy and historiography

Why I don’t: ... undermining the revolution wasn’t great...

Favorite episode: I’m a big fan of 2.06 because... you know...

but also because we had to wait 14 episodes to see this pirate on a fuckin boat

Favorite season: Season three features so many of my favorite tropes it feels unreal... Jack and Charles as co-captains sharing authority and declaring their undying loyalty to each other... the way he goes full dandy the moment he has money to burn... Jack has to gain the approval of his judgmental father-in-law... his homoerotic rivalry with Rogers... getting arrested and then rescued by his significant others in the most dramatic way possible... I choose to believe that there was a brief, shining moment right before the beginning of season 3 where Jack was able to just chill and be optimistic about the future and bask in Charles Vane’s approval amidst his pile of gold and new wardrobe while Anne and Max were off doing lesbian stuff...

Favorite line: “It’s the art that leaves the mark, but to leave it, it must transcend, it must speak for itself, it must be true,” I mutter to myself as I draw vampire pirates at 1am

Favorite outfit: oof what a question...

This look is probably my overall favorite and there’s a good reason why it’s the outfit he’s wearing for the final climactic battle. He has so many amazing coats, but the details on this one make it my favorite, and I also love that gradient scarf and the pink embroidered shirt. The color and pattern mixing here is impeccable. It makes me appreciate his hot mess of a wardrobe in the first season more, seeing how his first outfit just looks like plain boring muslin and then more color & patterns gradually get introduced.

This is my runner-up just because I love the shade of blue and the prince charming vibes that are happening here, so I’m sad that we only saw this look for like 3 seconds.

OTP: I can’t remember the last time I cared about a ship as much as I care about VaneRackham.... sometimes I get mad that they succeeded in making me have these Feelings about fictional characters... I watched a show with multiple canon gay relationships and ended up fixating on the queerbait white man ship where one of the characters dies, because I have questionable taste and I love making myself suffer. 😩

Brotp: Jack and Max’s relationship means so much to me 💕

Head Canon: This might be me projecting, but because of his background in textiles I headcanon that Jack was more competent at sewing than anyone else on the Ranger and that skill came in incredibly useful on more than one occasion. The fancy coats that we see him wearing in seasons 3 & 4 most likely would have been custom tailored specifically for him, but I imagine that all of his earlier ones were acquired secondhand (one way or another) and he sometimes did patching/adjustments on them himself.

Unpopular opinion: I respect the artistic liberties that were taken with his character design, but he should have been allowed to wear some silk stockings and show off his calves at least once tbh

A wish: Obviously my #1 wish is that Jack and Charles had been permitted to kiss, but I also wish that we had been able to see them on a ship together clearly I have no choice but to assume that whenever they were on a ship together there was lots of kissing going on An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen: man it would sure suck if Jack was executed for piracy within like three years of the series finale 5 words to best describe them: this adam ant looking motherfucker

My nickname for them: my guy/my dude

#black sails #jack rackham #long post

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overwatchworks · 4 years

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That Pretty Face:

Inspired by art done by a good pal, they always draw the Blackwatch boys for me and it keeps my sanity.

It had been weeks. Weeks and weeks and Jesse had not truly thought about him since they had picked him up in pieces back in Hanamura. He had been busy. Mind occupied with other things. Genji Shimada was not the only thing being built from the ground up again.

Red eyes, silver metal covering most of his face, white and black synth skin. The Blackwatch insignia on his chest, outlined in glowing crimson. He looked angry. He looked resigned. Jesse didn’t blame him.

"Your life in return for your services". Jesse had heard the story, knew the drill. He’d had the same talk.

Death or Blackwatch. They were basically the same thing.

Guard duty was taking up his time now. Protecting Dr. Liao while she worked tirelessly on the AI that would, as she said, save the world where she could not. Jesse had seen enough of the world to know it could not be saved, but he was not about to tell her that. This was her life’s work, and who was he to dissuade a little bit of good in a world so riddled with evil. A world where people murdered their brothers in cold blood, left them shattered, left them for dead.

Just a few perks of the job.

The only reason Genji Shimada was back on his radar was because he was standing with them for training. Red eyes, silver metal covering most of his face, white and black synth skin. The Blackwatch insignia on his chest, outlined in glowing crimson. He looked angry. He looked resigned. Jesse didn’t blame him.

Your life in return for your services. Jesse had heard the story, knew the drill. He’d had the same talk. Death or Blackwatch. They were basically the same thing.

He was a cyborg now, wires hanging off the back of his head and whirring with each movement. The only parts of him that were obviously human being his left arm and what little of his face was still showing. Even that was mutilated with scars and marred by tubing. But he was a sight to behold when training. Fast, unbelievably agile. Ruthless. Violent. Every movement calculated and striking to kill.

It was beautiful, in a terrible sense. Clearly, Genji was skilled, but clearly, he was also unhinged. Pushing his body to the breaking point, steam coming up from odd places and eyes gaining dark circles as he overworked the human parts past their limits.

The weeks passed like that, training and missions going the same way. Genji liked to rip things apart. Genji liked to rip himself apart. Coming back with sparking wires sticking out of his arm and chest, blood that was too dark and glistening dribbling from holes in his armour. Covered in it. Some of it was his. Most of it wasn’t.

Jesse was generally assigned to missions with him, and generally they went well. Genji was quiet, the comms hardly ever going off on his end besides to give a general warning or a check in. He knew Jesse’s name, though, which surprised him the first time he used it. They had been caught in a crossfire, Talon ambushing their escape route and bringing in a sniper. Jesse had heard her rifle winding up, saw the laser sight flash to his chest. A single spot of red.

“She’s on you, McCree!” Genji had called, voice sharp and accented. Concerned, even. And then, of course, he had been shot. The bullet was armour piercing, but he had managed to move out of the way enough for it to not hit anything vital. Something he could survive, something Dr. Deorain had healed fairly quickly on the ride back to base. Genji had watched her work on him for a while, gaze boring into Jesse every time he looked up at the ninja.

For the first time, he wondered what was under that mask. If anything even was under the mask.

His eyes were expressive. They were pretty, all long lashes and dark intensity. They could be soft, at times. It was rare, but it happened. Mostly when Genji thought no one was looking, when he thought no one would notice the human parts of him anymore. Jesse did. But he did not let on just yet. They were not quite close enough for that. He didn’t know if they ever could be. Not in this line of work, not with what they had to do and the promise of death at every corner, a mission always a hairsbreadth away from going in the wrong direction, a bullet always missing them by the skin of their teeth.

Jesse loved it.

Jesse hated it.

Genji did too, he had learned, was born and bred for it. Made for it when he was born a second time, unable to escape the fate of a warrior, an assassin. Jesse wondered if he was bothered by that. The fact that his life was nothing but war and blood and death. Had asked him about it when they were stuck in the med bay together, drugs in his system making his lips looser than they already were.

Surprisingly, Genji had answered.

No, I am not bothered by it. I grew up knowing it was my fate, my duty. But I do resent it, and what it has done to me. What I have lost and had stolen away from me.

Jesse had listened raptly, the sound of Genji’s voice soothing in a way. Robotic, accented. Soft. His eyes were soft in that moment too. Lost in memory, perhaps. Jesse did not look too far into it.

Genji had gone quiet again after that, shifting where he could with the wires attached to his neck linked up to a computer behind him, something pumping modified biotics into the tubes in his arms, on the ports of his stomach. Uncomfortable, but not because of everything he was hooked up to.

I don’t know if I quite understand your situation, but never bein’ a normal kid? I get that. Nothin’ was ever normal for us except a weapon in hand and aimin’ it at someone else. Bein’ told to shoot. I guess in the grand scheme of it all, makes us no better than the bad guys, huh?

Genji looked back at him, assessing for a long moment.

We are not bad, we are just doing what we have to in order to survive. Kill or be killed. Join us or die.

I wish it wasn’t like that.

Another long moment passed, Genji gripping the edge of the examination table, eyes downcast.

Me too.

It was a long time before they spoke like that again. Missions kept them busy, and then training when they were not scheduled for them, Jesse occasionally going to meetings with Reyes while Genji went to the med bay with Dr. Ziegler to continue his modifications. They would pass one another in the halls. Jesse gave a tip of his hat and then added a wink until Genji finally began to acknowledge him back with a slight nod or raise of his brows. He liked to imagine there was at least a bemused smile under that faceplate when his eyes scrunched just a bit. Maybe.

They sparred together, started to train together after Reyes saw how well they worked as a team. Genji was good at quick, agile attacks up close while Jesse took on the long distance and range targets. Genji protected Jesse, and Jesse protected Genji in return. They got closer. Near death calls tended to do that to folks.

Genji talked to him more. Jesse told him stories and would get a few in return on the rooftops where the air was crisp and the sky was clear. Genji tried on his hat. Genji laughed. Just a small, quiet chuckle, but it left Jesse staring for a little too long. Genji noticed, Jesse tried to pretend his red cheeks were attributed to the cold as he snatched his hat back and drew it low over his eyes. He did not see the way Genji’s had softened again.

The next morning had them sitting in an airship, waiting to be dropped into a volatile zone overrun by null sector forces. They started out okay, but slowly, everyone got tired. They were only human, they made mistakes, slipped up. Null sector did not.

Genji did not.

Jesse was shouting into the comms for evac after he had to watch their third agent get shot down by a bastion unit, gunfire and static the only thing he was hearing in return. Jammed signals, bad luck. He dragged the corpse of a friend behind a building and had to leave it there, or they would all be one by the end of the day.

“We gotta get to higher ground where these things can’t jam our comms!” he called, Genji turning to him and nodding once before taking off towards the highest building. Jesse did not need an explanation, not between them. He motioned to what was left of their drop team.

“Move outta this hot spot! Stay behind cover, don’t leave one another’s backs unguarded. Get down that alleyway and take the first left, it’ll take you behind that main square, got it? We can find a place to hide out there, there’s just too many of these damn things here when we don’t have a shield!”

Jesse ordered, wishing not for the first time that he had someone like Reinhardt with him. Or at least a fully outfitted team like Overwatch always sent in. That would have been nice.

As it was, they had to run, Jesse getting everyone accounted for that was left before following up on the rear, eyes peeled for any sight of Genji.

He turned, gun spinning in hand and resting at his side as he counted the omnics marching towards him. Fifteen. He could do it. Six shots went of in tandem, six perfect bullet holes steaming through the first line of omnics. Jesse reloaded and did it again. Finished off the last two and ran down the alleyway, catching up with the rest of his team, ignoring the throbbing starting up behind his eyes.

“Bought us a little time. Come on, keep movin’.”

“McCree, we need more medical personnel,” Martinez urged, setting an agent down against the wall.

“Where’d Frazier go?”

“Dead.”

“Dammit.”

“There’s too many wounded right now if we need to make a quick getaway. Did Shimada not make it...?”

“Nah, he’s callin’ in evac for us. Stay here and do your best to patch everyone up, can you do that for me?”

Martinez nodded shakily, pulling out her med kit and going to the worst of the wounded in the group. Jesse made to check on the others, then saw a flash of red above them in his periphery. Genji landed in front of him not a moment later, the sound heavy, blood dripping down his shoulder. He did not seem to notice.

“It was all static, but I was able to find what was jamming them,” he reported, pointing to a building further into the hot spot. “I can get in there and take it out.”

“You ain’t goin’ back in there alone, that’s not how we do things around here. I’ll go with you.”

“I don’t need you slowing me down,” Genji bit out.

“How about we not think about it like that and instead say, ‘wow, thanks McCree for havin’ my back for me in case I get in over my head like I always do’, yeah?”

“I can do this by myself, you will only get hurt following me!”

“And what happens if you get hurt alone and then we all get killed ‘cause you couldn’t stand havin’ to take help from someone?!”

“Hey, boys, how about instead of arguing about it, you both hurry up and get us out of here. McCree’s right about one thing; if we don’t get out of here soon, we’re all toast, alright? We have people dying!” Martinez interrupted, glaring at the two of them as Jesse sighed.

“Come on,” he grumbled, moving in the direction of the building Genji had pointed out. Genji fell in stride with him after a moment, eyes shifting to him. Crimson narrowed darkly.

“If you die, I won’t let you rest peacefully.”

Jesse snorted, gaining a devilish grin.

“Darlin’, I ain’t ever planned on anythin’ but another spot deep in Hell when I die. Peace wasn’t even on the radar.”

Genji did not offer him a reply, simply quickened his pace and took off, leaving Jesse to follow behind with a sharp eye. They slipped past the rows of null sector stationed in the plaza in front of the building quietly, Genji motioning to a window just outside of their surveillance. He climbed into it, leaning over the edge with a hand outstretched. Jesse took it. Hauled himself inside and took a moment to let his eyes adjust to the darkness. Genji waited. Static was running through the comms this close to the jammer, giving Jesse a headache. It was a large structure, pulses of blue light that shimmered leaving it in intervals.

“Damn...How’re we gonna take that thing out?”

“A detonator,” Genji offered, Jesse frowning.

“You wanna lure one of them in here?”

“It’s the best option we have. I cannot get near that thing, it interferes with my cybernetics.”

“And you were plannin’ on doin’ this alone?”

Genji merely glared, then pointed again. “There are three posted just outside the entrance. It should not be hard getting them inside.”

“But this signal will jam them too, right?”

“Not if we move them manually.”

Jesse stared at the ninja, sitting back on his thighs and pushing his hat up as he faced him fully.

“Lemme get this straight. You wanna shove one of them in here, somehow push them close enough to the jammer so that when they explode, it takes it out, all the while not letting the massive amount of null sector troopers out front know that we’re here?”

“Well, actually, I was thinking we let null sector do it for us. They have more fire power than we do, and if we stay behind the detonator, they will shoot it. They are programmed to neutralize enemies, no matter what is in front of them. We can take advantage of that.”

Jesse blinked. Frowned and ran a hand over his beard, chewing on his lip.

“Is it bad that I think that might actually somehow work?”

“Only if we do it right.”

“Alright. Alright, yeah. Let’s go.”

It took some finagling. Genji’s steps were stuttering as if his limbs were not synching with the rest of him when he got too close to the jammer. It was just the two of them. Jesse was sweating. But they got the detonator inside the door, and it was hell unleashed as soon as they did. Genji knocked it in with a kick, Jesse shooting at the null sector omnics running in after him.

“Go! Get behind it now!” he shouted, Jesse ducking towards the jammer. Genji deflected, stumbled, found his feet again. It was close. A lot of cover fire from Jesse’s end needed just to get him behind a wall. He was shaking his head, blinking hard. They needed to get out of there.

Jesse was taking most of the attention from the null sector troops, staying just close enough to the detonator to ensure it was being pushed towards the jammer. And it was working. The detonator’s armour was falling, bright, fiery oranges and reds being revealed, the whole thing starting to shake. Jesse ran from it, back towards the window they entered through.

“Genji! Come on, it’s gonna blow any second!”

Genji looked up, eyes widening a bit, the red in them flickering. He tried to take a step, flesh hand going to his head when his leg buckled.

“Shit...” Jesse muttered, glancing at the detonator. He had time. He could make it. Peacekeeper sang as he ran. Ran for his life, ran to Genji. There was another window by him, they could go out that way. It lasted a lifetime. It lasted a second. Jesse grabbed Genji when he got to him, tugging him back up to stand.

“Come on! Just focus for me a little longer, alright? I need you to get up to that window and help me up, okay?”

“O-okay.”

The stutter was not intentional, Genji’s voice sounding more robotic than usual. Voicebox glitching. He blinked some more, then climbed the wall, reaching down for Jesse. His hand was taken, and they jumped from the window. Jesse jumped from the window.

Genji was not behind him.

“Genji? Genji!”

The detonator went off. Rubble flying, chunks of concrete, dust, fire. Jesse was blown back, arms up to cover his face. He felt debris hit him, his armour bending and cracking. Hit the ground and curled up, covering his head, eyes squeezed shut. When the rumbling stopped and the world was no longer shattering, Jesse finally glanced up. Ears ringing, dust in his lungs. He picked up his hat, blinking hard, coughing. Shook his head and ran into the rubble, calling for Genji but not hearing himself say it. Sound slowly started to come back to him, though, it was eerily quiet. Just the crackling of flames and debris falling.

“Genji! Come on, Shimada, where are you?!”

Jesse paused when he saw Genji’s sword laying toward the centre of the blast and he ran to it. Stumbled a bit, grabbed it from the ground. And there was Genji, lying just ahead of it, cybernetics sparking, blood running off his arm. From his nose. From his lips.

Jesse stared.

Genji’s faceplate was nowhere to be seen, scars littering his cheeks and around where synthetic met human. The bottom half of his jaw was black synthskin and mesh. A bruise was forming around one eye, cuts above it bleeding down his temple. With his eyes closed like this, he could almost be sleeping. Jesse stepped closer, kneeling beside him. Rolled him over and tilted his chin to the side, shaking him gently.

Pretty. Gods, he was so pretty.

“Genji? Hey, come on, do me one last favour and don’t be dead...Come on, bud...”

Genji’s eyelids fluttered, taking a shuddering breath in.

“Oh thank god. Alright, alright I got’cha. I’ll get us outta here.”

Jesse took his arm and hauled him over his shoulders, grabbing his katana once more and standing. Genji was heavier than he looked deadweight. Limp.

“You’ll be alright, we just gotta get back to the team, okay? Just hold on.”

Jesse did not even notice his limp until he was back in the alleyway, ducking behind cover and keeping one arm over Genji’s legs so he would not fall. Eyes peeled for any sign of danger. Three detonators going off all at once, destroying a building and the jammer within it was bound to draw in swarms of null sector. They needed to get out, and fast. Jesse tapped his comm.

“This is Agent McCree callin’ for immediate evac to Blackwatch team A-1207. We got lots of wounded and this place is about to get real hot. Does anyone copy?” Static was his only answer. Genji groaned softly, Jesse glancing at him.

Head hanging just off his shoulder. So close Jesse could see the veins under his eyes, the way his cuts were beginning to tack up. How long his lashes were, the little white scars by his temple that looked too old to be something he got from his brother or the cybernetics. Jesse’s comm crackled, drawing his focus back to the present.

“McCree, this is Fio, I copy. Commander sent me in to pick you all up when comms went down, said it was too risky leaving you like that. Been having to fight my way around null sector’s anti-aircraft weapons. I’ve got your coordinates, ETA five minutes.”

“Fio! You have no idea how happy I am to hear your voice, sweetheart,” Jesse laughed breathlessly, Fio giving a chuckle back.

“Glad to hear you’re not dead, cowboy.”

“Don’t jinx me, now, I still got five minutes to survive.”

“I think you’ll manage. Hang in there.”

Jesse grinned, making it back to the team and setting Genji down gently. Something felt off about letting anyone else see his face, though, so he wrapped his scarf around Genji’s shoulders and neck, his head hanging down into it and covering what normally was hidden. It felt like a violation of privacy, in an odd way. Jesse didn’t think Genji would have wanted to be seen by anyone, not even him.

Fio landed on time as promised, taking what was left of the team back to base. Jesse’s body was beginning to hurt, adrenaline wearing off and leaving him exhausted and throbbing. His foot was messed up, and his shoulder. His armour was torn in some places, but it had done its job for the most part. Bruises were all he would be left with instead of bullet holes and a punctured lung. His nose was bleeding. It took Martinez coming over to him to tilt his head back and press some gauze beneath it for him to notice.

Jesse was too busy looking at Genji to notice much else.

He was patched up, made Martinez move on to someone else after insisting he was alright, that everything else could wait until they got back to the med bay. The ride home was long, and Jesse slept through most of it.

His scarf was returned folded neatly, Genji presenting it to him without a word. His faceplate was back, eyes shifting to look at anything but Jesse. Jesse, who grinned and took it back, leaning against the doorframe when Genji did not immediately run off.

“Lookin’ all shiny and new there, bud. Good to see you up and movin’ again. You saved us back there with that idea of yours, you know.”

Genji stood there for a moment, nodding after another.

“I could not have done it alone. I know I said otherwise, but. I needed you there.”

Jesse tisked and waved his hand goodnaturedly.

“Aw, shucks. Makin’ me feel all special now.”

“Do not get used to it,” Genji huffed, his eyes crinkling just a bit. Jesse could imagine a smile on his face now. How good it would look, how pretty he would be with it.

“But thank you. For pulling me out of there. And for that,” Genji motioned to the scarf, arms settling across his chest.

“Anytime. We’re a team, yeah? I got your back when you need me, alright?” Jesse hesitated only a moment, reaching out and placing a hand on Genji’s bicep, squeezing lightly before letting go.

Genji watched his hand drop. Eyes flicking up to his, stance shifting. He set his shoulders and nodded.

“Alright.”

“I’ll see you at trainin’, then.”

“Yes, see you then.”

Jesse slipped back into his room when Genji turned to leave. Ran a hand over the scarf. Set it on the foot of his bed and went to finish typing up a report, Genji on his mind. Jesse smiled.

#mcgenji #jesse mccree #genji shimada #blackwatch era #as if you have not been force fed enough of this already #WhiskeyWrites #that's all the tagging I'm doing I'm tired #enjoy my friends

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princepondincherry · 3 years

Text

Wish RWBY was better? Try ATLA

To start: Yes, I’m aware ATLA and even LoK probably have much larger fandoms than RWBY already. I think they also have more content and were produced with a larger budget, which means we have to give RWBY some slack. It doesn’t mean criticism isn’t valid.

Since Avatar came out on Netflix, I watched both shows, and I can’t help drawing parallels with RWBY since they’re both animated shows I’ve loved about badass kids/teens with magic powers. And Avatar is SO MUCH better. For instance, inter-party conflict. The Gaang argue ALL THE TIME, and it’s just presented as the normal state of affairs, not some dramatic, crazy detail when one sibling has a slight disagreement with the other sibling. And as much flak as the Mako relationship drama gets in Legend of Korra, at least it had substance to it. We still don’t really know what the problem is with Ren and Nora. Oh, and The Last Airbender handled an unwanted kiss forced on someone who didn’t think it was the right time for romance SO MUCH better, with an immediate, “I SAID I was confused!” and the instigator having a scene right after where they called themselves an idiot, instead of the Renora kiss being presented as romantic or something.

Now I kinda want to write a list of things I feel Avatar does better. There’s a poorly-argued word vomit below the cut:

- The dead mother thing--Salem mentions Summer once with no details, and Ruby completely breaks down? What? Like, grief is fine, but this has literally no foreshadowing since the songs don’t count as full canon, and it made no sense given Ruby’s established (ha) character and the situation. Katara would have flown into a rage, and it would have been so much better.

- Arguments with adults on your side--Pakku was set up as an asshole teacher from the start, and he when confronted with the consequences of his misogyny, he changed his ways for the better. Zuko arguing with Iroh is never intended to have Zuko be in the right. Korra argues with Tenzin all the time, and usually they’re both right, but have to come to a better understanding of each other’s perspective that helps them grow as people. In fact, this conflict drives a lot of the story for the first two books of LoK. Unfortunately, RWBY seems incapable of this sort of nuance. Qrow is just drunk until he isn’t, but then later gets Clover killed, and Ozpin is supposedly just awful.

- Arguments with adults who should be on your side but aren’t--Long Feng SHOULD be on the same side as the heroes, defending the Earth Kingdom, but he isn’t for pretty stupid reasons. But, unlike Ironwood shooting people like a maniac, Long Feng is against the heroes for stupid reasons that (mostly) make sense in-universe: he wants to remain in power. (I still don’t understand why he didn’t just quietly explain that he had the real power in the city, not the king, and shuffle the kids off to whoever was running the military defenses that allowed him to pretend there was no war. I guess he thought if he just gave them the cold shoulder long enough, they’d go away?) Whatever problems there were with Long Feng’s storyline, at least he was consistently written as a bad guy. In contrast, Ironwood is inconsistently written as a good guy who has all the trappings of a tyrant but doesn’t act like it AT ALL, except when he occasionally does something extreme like shoot Oscar. He’s written (I guess unintentionally?) as a subversion of the military tyrant, except when he suddenly acts like one again. It’s like they were shooting for a Tarrlok (sketchy government official who’s both bad for the obvious reasons AND worse than he appears beneath the surface, even though he often works for the side of good) but actually wrote Suyin (someone who could easily be a totalitarian dictator, but decided not to be because of her moral principles, and is actually nice), except occasionally she attacks her allies for disagreeing with her.

- Costume design--I loved Ruby’s, Weiss’s, Ozpin’s, Qrow’s, and a few other original costumes, and Ruby’s had some very solid costumes. However, Volume 7 was terrible. The animation looked weird on Weiss’s braid, Jaune’s hair was awful, and a bunch of them weren’t really dressed for the weather. In contrast, the Avatar characters change outfits whenever it’s appropriate. You know, like real people. (If this is a “3D animation makes outfit changes harder than 2D animation” thing, then maybe 2D animation is just a superior art form when you’re on a budget.)

- Consistent power levels--Katara starts weak and gets stronger. Aang starts as only an airbender and consistently gets better at everything else. Toph invents metalbending and gradually gets more proficient with it. In contrast, RWBY’s Volume 1-3 feats are often better than their later feats, and Aura strength blatantly depends on plot. Yang’s gotten *slightly* better at fighting, Weiss learned a new skill and promptly got her butt kicked by focusing on it too much, Ruby supposedly learned hand-to-hand combat but really just did a headbutt, and RWBY SOMEHOW beat the most premiere team in Atlas after training with them for a few weeks. Sure, Toph, Katara, Azula, Aang, and Sokka are all ridiculous prodigies, but they’re established as such from the beginning. Katara still loses soundly to Pakku before he trains her. (Despite the memes about her kicking the ass of the patriarchy, he’s obviously going easy on her and still crushes her.) Aang gets beaten by Ozai without his OP special ability. Azula gets beaten easily the one time we see her go up against an adult (Iroh, on the ship in the beginning of book 2). And Toph is more like Pyrrha than anyone on Team RWBY. Honestly, this is one of my weaker points, but I still stand by the fact that the Avatar kids’ victories felt much more earned.

- Bad Fights--Yes, I know, heresy. I actually think the best of RWBY’s fights (RWBY vs. Torchwick’s mech, Ozpin vs. Cinder, Pyrrha vs. Cinder, RWBY vs. the Nevermore, Qrow vs. Tyrian) are somewhat more exciting, visually interesting, and (sometimes) emotionally charged than even the best of Avatar’s fights (Aang vs. Ozai, Zuko vs. Azula, Kya vs. Zaheer, Korra vs. Zaheer, Tenzin and his siblings vs. Red Lotus, Suyin vs. Kuvira). But my actual point is that RWBY’s bad fights are BAD, whereas I can’t even think of what the worst Avatar fights are. Sokka vs. Zuko in episode 1 was pretty bad, but that was more of a gag than a fight. Umm...Big Glowy Korra vs. Unavaatu was kinda cheesy, but I still liked it. Meelo fartbending vs. the Equalists? Idk. Meanwhile, RWBY has the Scuffle of Haven, that time Ilia seriously hurt Sun somehow, Qrow vs. Tyrian vs. Clover (visually impressive, but made NO FUCKING SENSE), Oscar landing a massively-telegraphed blow on Neo...well, okay. Maybe there weren’t that many awful fights. I still think I came away from more RWBY fights disappointed, but I can’t really argue my case very well.

- LGBT representation, normalized to the time period--Yes, Korrasami never got past handholding in the finale, but somehow Yang and Blake haven’t either? Even though it’s 2020? Actually, this is a symptom of a larger problem:

- Romantic relationships being ignored--Why won’t RWBY explicitly confirm anything? The RWBY cast are closer in age to the LoK cast than the ATLA cast, but it feels the other way around. Kataang was both heavily present in ATLA the whole time and by no means taking over the plot. And, okay, there was Jaune/Pyrrha, but she’s dead now, so the most-developed ship is Renora. Who held hands, then didn’t talk about their relationship at all for a full volume, and then had a nonconsensual kiss handled worse than the Kataang kiss in Ember Island Players. I’m glad there haven’t been any Romantic Plot Tumors in RWBY, but something would be nice. Or just don’t bring it up at all if you’re never going to develop the relationships.

- Sibling relationships--Yang and Ruby were great as sisters in the early volumes, but lately it’s just been Yang deciding to yoke herself to Ruby’s judgement, until suddenly she’s not anymore. I feel like they barely talked in Volume 7.

- Villains--If Salem wants to kill everyone and collect the Relics, why hasn’t she? She’s invincible! Ozai at least was still human, but he left to handle things himself as soon as he got a power-up. More vaguely, I just find Avatar’s villains more interesting than RWBY’s most of the time.

I’m aware that some/most of these are unfair. It’s more intended as an incoherent rambling to get my views out of my head than as any sort of persuasive argument.

#rwby #atla #rwde #TLOK

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pluto-fics · 4 years

Text

Inspiration is Motivation － Prologue

Fanfiction | Artist!Taehyung x SingleMom!Reader

Genres: Fluff, Romance, Humor, Smut

Rating: G (for this chapter)

Word Count: 2.385 words

Chapter Warnings: none

Your brows furrow at the earlier statement of your best friend, Hanna.

"Believe me, it'll help you to relax for a few hours and I'll take good care of Ty."

You have no doubt about the latter. Hanna might be that stereotype single woman who likes to go out for a couple drinks every so often, but she is a reliable caretaker and one ridiculously good cook. Based on this, she was an absolute blessing the last two times she watched over your son. However, you still feel a little uneasy about her suggestion.

"I don't know... Tyler is kind of stubborn and moody lately, how could I leave you both alone for nearly four full hours? Not to mention that I can paint at home if I want to, I don't need to go to some weird art course..." you try to defy yourself. The idea of entrusting Hanna with your five year old son for so long worries you. Just the thought of it causes a bad feeling to spread throughout your body. Hanna just rolls her eyes, however. "Listen. I already signed you up for that course this Saturday. It's supposed to start at eleven, won't go past three in the afternoon and you can calmly come back home to Tyler and me having a great time without setting your apartment on fire."

You can't fight down the amused giggle at her statement before you sigh. "Hanna, I really don't-..." you begin, only to be interrupted mid-sentence. "Yes, you do want to try it. I'll be here at 10 this Saturday and you can either go to that course or stay here with us and bathe in my judgment."

And here you are, two days later and sat on a chair in front of an empty canvas and an A3 sized sketchpad, surrounded by strangers who, just like you, are waiting for the course to begin.

You take this time to inspect the equipment provided to you. Brushes and pencils of rather good quality, however accompanied by a cheap, fizzy eraser. The watercolor paint seems decent enough. But the big bottles of acrylics and oils on the desk in the middle of the room, accessible for everyone in it, clearly are not top-notch quality. That of course does not mean it is bad per se, you just might have expected something fancier in the art department of the local Community College.

Your train of thoughts comes to an abrupt stop when you hear someone opening the big wooden door and entering the room, a deep but smooth voice wishing you and your fellow course participants a good morning. The slender figure who just stepped into the room makes your eyes grow wide the second you lay your eyes on him. He is tall, with model like features, facial as well as bodywise. His fashion sense clearly is a little extravagant, for he wears a way too oversized dress shirt with a pair of what almost seemed to be pajama pants of some sort, and a matching beige colored beret topping his head. The big round glasses topping his nose make you curious. Does he need them to see? Or were they simply added to this retro outfit because they fit the vibe?

"I'm glad you all made it here on time, unlike myself" he then speaks while rummaging in the bag he has just placed on top of the desk in the front of the room. You hear quiet giggles erupting from two slightly older women in the back. His lips curve into a handsome smile, not even needing to show the whites of his teeth to make you doubt the existence of a man with such impressive visuals. Yet, you feel kind of stupid for the way you swoon over his looks like a teenager, despite being a grown woman with a child waiting for her to return home.

The young man claps his hands together as if to catch everyone's attention, even though he already possesses the full concentration of everyone in this room. "Now, I'd like to start by introducing myself, if that's alright by you."

He swiftly turns to the chalkboard behind himself and writes down what you assume to be his name.

"My name is Kim Taehyung and I teach traditional art at the local University. But as you can tell, I'm also hosting art courses like this one once a week, while also working as a hobby freelance artist. So I guess you could say that art is my passion."

There it is again. That charming smile of his as he tends to the attentive group of people in front of him. "But enough of me, I think we're all here to improve our skills, so how about we start with some easy warm ups to get creative first?" You notice everyone responding by nodding or already flipping over the cover of the massive sketchpad in front of them to reveal a blank page. Imitating your 'classmates', you flip open your sketchpad and face Mr. Kim again.

He begins by instructing everyone to warm up their wrists by drawing circular shapes of several sizes and shading them to your heart's content to make yourself familiar with the medium you're using. Another hint of his is to try the different art materials provided to each one of the participants and see which one you'd preferably work with today.

A couple minutes later, you can tell Mr. Kim valued his participants' individuality. Only giving a rough theme for the artwork you are supposed to create, he left everything else to you. "Warm Autumn" was the theme he came up with and your mind immediately drifts off into what you would like to call your ‘creative mode’. Images of brown leaves, soft breezes of air and fluffy fabrics of knitwear come to your mind. Thus, you begin by settling on a color palette in warm brown, red and yellow tones and soon start by sketching an idea.

Mr. Kim does no longer talk to the whole course. Instead, he begins to slowly walk around the classroom and take a look at everyone's approaches on the topic. Usually, you'd get so engulfed in your works that you would blend out most of your surroundings. However, Mr. Kim's presence makes it hard for you to fully concentrate on the sketch before you like you usually would. You don't even need to look up to know where Mr. Kim currently stood at, while he gradually comes closer to where you are seated at.

The sound of his steps approaching you slowly sends shivers down your spine, just like the feeling of him standing right beside you, wordlessly examining your sketch. You can't keep from glancing up at his face as his gaze remains locked on the paper before you, an approving look surfacing on his face. He then glances at your face, his eyes meeting yours immediately as he leans down a bit to speak to you with a quieter, low voice. "Nice choice of motives. Do you have an idea for the final composition already?"

You feel your cheeks heating up as you mumble out a shy "Um, kind of", unsure of how to feel about the genuine interest Mr. Kim shows. It's been a while since someone other than your son Tyler had commented on one of your works. The young artist next to you smiles. "You're a fast one, huh? I like that. But let me know if you need anything, alright?" His voice is just as unique as his appearance. And the more you get to hear of it, the more you come to like the sound of it. Nodding your head with a smile, you thank him before he smiles back and moves on to the next participant of his course.

By the end of the course, you have created a piece you are rather proud of - the motives assembled in a harmonic way, adding to the calm and welcoming atmosphere of your painting. Throughout the creation process of it, Mr. Kim came around every once in a while to praise you for your ideas or help you improve parts of your piece in ways you wouldn't have been able to think of yourself. You have actually truly enjoyed today. At the end of the course, Mr. Kim gives his final speech in which he thanks everyone for participating and gives some last advice before sending everyone home with their final artworks. You had just put the materials you had used back to where you got them from, ready to pack your things to leave, when Mr. Kim approaches you with a gentle smile. "(Y/N), am I right?" He addresses you, your heart seemingly skipping a beat at the way your name sounds when spoken with his smooth voice. "Yes, that would be me" you say, turning to him with faked confidence. In reality, something about this Kim Taehyung makes you feel like a shy teenager again. He smiles apologetically as he asks "Do you perhaps have a minute or two to talk? If you're not in a hurry to be somewhere, that is."

To be honest, you want to apologize and leave right now. Tyler is waiting for you at home, after all. And so is Hanna. But your head nods on it’s own accord before your mind could stop it from doing so. What are a few minutes anyway, right?

"Great! Actually, I was curious to see how your piece turned out. To be honest, I didn't really get to look at it yet," he then says as he regards your artwork which is still on the easel at your seat. Examining it interestedly, he chuckles. "You're really talented, you know? This can't have been the first time you’ve painted something like this."

Your lips curve upwards in a bashful smile. "Ah, well actually... It's kind of my hobby. It's just that I haven't had much time to pursue it recently..." you answer. A soft humming noise resonates in his throat before he faces you again. "Are you interested in modern art too?" He suddenly asks, catching you a little off guard. "Modern art?" You repeat, to which he nods. "There's an art exhibition at the City Hall next friday. The main focus of it lays on contemporary artists and most works shown there are paintings and sculptures, rather than installations or anything like that. But I have a feeling that you might like it." You aren't sure where he was aiming at with this information, but you appreciate it. Mirroring his friendly smile, you say "It does sound interesting, yes. But I'm really busy lately, I'm not sure if I'll be able to go."

Mr. Kim seems understanding as he nods. "Well, if you do make it, maybe we'll meet there." He responds, making you nod slowly as you mumble a barely audible "That'd be nice." You want to ask him if there'd also be works of his exhibited there, remembering that he introduced himself as a freelance artist earlier, but the sound of your phone vibrating in your pocket interrupts you. "Ah, sorry" you then say, quickly looking at your phone to see messages of Hanna coming in. It’s nothing serious, just questions about whether Tyler still takes naps after lunch or not, since he apparently got a little energy boost after having eaten well. But it is urgent enough for you to decide that it is time to go home now. "I better get going now. Today was really nice, thank you. And thank you for telling me about the art exhibition, too. As you said, maybe we'll meet there." You speak as you collect your belongings and art piece, Mr. Kim nodding calmly and smiling as he wishes you a nice day before you leave.

On your way home, you keep thinking about today's events. About the fun you have had while painting for the first time in months and the useful help Mr. Kim had offered. The giddy feeling you got whenever he would lean in to talk to you quietly with that soothing deep voice of his. You have really had a great day, even if you still feel a little awkward for being so affected by the male's looks and kind words. But who could blame you, if said artist looks like a piece of art himself?

Arriving at home, the first thing you notice right after opening the front door is the welcoming scent of warm pancakes coming from your kitchen. Peeking past the doorframe, you smile at the sight of your best friend and son pouring dough into a frying pan together, your little son giggling in excitement.

"Hello you two" you greet the diligently working duo and laugh when your son immediately comes running to you to hug your legs and welcome you back excitedly. Crouching down to meet his eyes, you then give him a kiss on his cheek and smile at him. "Did you have a nice time with Hanna?" You ask, your smile widening when Tyler nods eagerly. "Yes! Hanna knows so many fun games for two! We played hide and seek too!” You give Hanna a glance, relieved to see her smiling just as happily as your little son. For some reason you’re always worried that he might be a little too challenging for her sometimes, but seeing her reaction to his happy storytelling, you have no doubt that she adores your son almost as much as you do.

Getting up to greet your friend properly with a short hug, you then look at the pile of pancakes on the kitchen counter. "Someone seems to be hungry, huh" you comment, Hanna rolling her eyes as she speaks, avoiding the topic. "How was the art course?"

You can feel Tyler leaning against your legs, silently requesting your attention. Picking him up to hold him close, you then begin to tell Hanna about the building, the people there, the fun you had when painting something from start to finish for the first time in ages, and in the end you thank her for having made this possible. Yet, a very specific detail you keep to yourself for now － Kim Taehyung.

Thank you for reading the Prologue to my new series “Inspiration is Motivation”!

If you can’t wait to read the next chapter, check out my Series Masterlist and follow @pluto-fics to be notified of new updates.

Stay safe and see you soon! 💜

- Pluto 🌑

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