#nah to be fair this IS only summing it up. i have a beginning of a doc of meta on the entire trilogy so this is quite short really | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

matchagyudon · 15 days

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Charisma, Charisma Battle Anthem - Fumiya Ito English Lyrics Translation

TL Notes:

I kind of butcher it in the English translation, but what Fumiya calls a “Yukichi Bromide” is just 10,000 yen. He likes to collect a bunch of them like bromides, like a hardcore stan with their ita bags and rooms of the same merch. I think I managed to get the point across. The American version I guess would be “Lincoln Photocards” or something like that lol.

I really had to keep myself from writing “my peppy lil pro idol” because maybe Fumiya would have come off a little Discord admin-y. But I think Fumiya would do anything for some yen at this rate. Anyways, JPY is just the currency (Japanese Yen). Like how he calls the Yukichi note a bromide, he essentially relates JPY to an idol he adores.

そそり勃つ/sosoritatsu: To become erect (like a nipple/penis/etc).

I don’t even know how to explain where Amahiko gets asparagus from 野天門. 野天 (noten) is to be in the open air and 門 (mon) is gate. His ass is a gate…. Also thank you to my friend for pointing out that で (de) is in fact a location marker, and with the shape of asparagus…. You can see asparagus inside Amahiko’s Wild Gate ;)

札束 (satsutaba) is a bundle of cash/stack of money. So he’s collecting those bands!!!

“Do well on your mission and “you will be rewarded”. This most definitely has some religious connotation, given the verse as well as the whole thing of Fumiya and his “godly” message. A missionary going on a mission.

ビターな甘味処 “This place is bittersweet” 甘味処/kanmidokoro is a cafe featuring Japanese sweets. Bitter sweet[shop].

“Shit that makes something out of nothing call that Holy shit” Ohse our Holy Mary <3

Tera, peta, and exa are SI prefixes. Tera is 1012, peta is 1015, and exa is 1018. Lots of beauty to go around.

I can’t keep beating around the bush anymore with Amahiko. I try to fluff up anything he says but if he were to say “I LOVE ROUGH ANAL SEX” in full blown English what am I supposed to do at this point. I give up.

Fun fact! Look up χάρισμα. This is read as charisma…. Which in Greek, means gift of god! A divine boon.

Raps are not my strong suit. Maybe one day I’ll be able to make this make sense. In the meantime, I tried. Not my best work. I really appreciate the writers creativity though <3 even though it melts my mind a lot of the times.

“1, 2, 3” Chasin’, chasin’ after that paper like collectible photo cards “1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7” Driven High, you’ll get your fair share “1, 2, 3” JPY, my peppy pro idol A handbook? Nah, how ‘bout a tour guide? “Charisma Style Rap Battle Break!”

Didn’t I already explain it to ya? Well to sum it up At the beginning of the week Let's call it Charisma Monday Interpol scatters Asia’s allies Marching alongside them, inciting right and wrong

Even birds who tweet their blessings have morals Attaining that QOL comes with responsibility Adulterated fraternizing, Not love for you Try to follow a different justice without diminishing it

Take advantage of that gap in my armor I’m a speedy, pro-slave Just a stray dog if you don’t call my name So tip my scale with endless burdens

Rebel then counter, counter, counter And counter again Lemme paint a picture of me for ya I’m like a coyote in the Sonoran desert Bloodthirsty and comin’ for ya throat

Beat down the greed that’s outta your league I’ve got a great view from down here like the shitty bug I am There’s 7 of us, but I’m the only dwarf The color of snow white Neurosis

No need for even a sliver of eccentricity Am I a necessity? “Seeking irregularities” Even from a long, long, long, long, long time ago, I’m a legacy Yes, I’m super beautiful ♪

The inevitable is calm So stiffen up This world’s fate is sexy! It’s sexy to read “Amahiko’s Wild Gate” With “ASSparagus!”

Magnificent 7th wonder I reach out and grab some bands Now it’s time to shine This Charisma Alchemy We’ve already got it in the bag

24/7 We set out, under the same roof With our everyday chaotic synergy 24/7 Eating out of the same pot Check out our flashy energy

Don’t give a shit about Pitiful jealousy Don’t give a shit about Living shamefully

Just shout out whenever And you can tell by the sound of footsteps

24/7 We set out, under the same roof With our everyday chaotic synergy 24/7 Eating out of the same pot Check out our flashy energy

We ain’t friends so stay out of our way ‘S no good? This is the path between Good and Evil

However! We’ve got rules here too If someone’s in trouble We’re all going down together

I wonder, are there spawns of demons and gods? And when you sift through them, how many people will be left? Do well on your mission and “you will be rewarded” This place is bittersweet

A pure white monologue No need for a secretary, just this diary You’re a caller of injustice So let’s get to the bottom of this, are you good or evil

Another successful case of tendonitis If you can’t get it, then we aren’t on the same page Those who are scrupulous Are squares My load tolerance is more than double-digits

Rage Against everything in this world Always angry, forgetting how to show mercy “Right?” Garbage that don’t burn That’s bullshit I’ll light it up anyways

Scum who is bewildered by those who are gentle A dark craft that drains the joys and sorrows of peace Shit that makes something out of nothing call that Holy shit A digital tattoo engraver

A neverending diffusion in every direction My beauty multiplies: tera, peta, and exa Mirror, oh mirror Even if you can’t understand the words The answer is revealed right in front of you

Extremely☆Horny A midsummer monster Quivering☆swaying A gift from God Locked in a grapple Inside of you Is a treasure Nearly bare!

If you back out now, it’ll vanish Your offerings of one hundred million Are not nearly enough But they can offset it “Rainy days” So from the back With no motion “Strike” While the iron’s still hot

24/7 We set out, under the same roof With our everyday chaotic synergy 24/7 Eating out of the same pot Check out our flashy energy

Don’t give a shit about Pitiful jealousy Don’t give a shit about Living shamefully

Just shout out whenever And you can tell by the sound of footsteps

24/7 We set out, under the same roof With our everyday chaotic synergy 24/7 Eating out of the same pot Check out our flashy energy

We ain’t friends so stay out of our way ‘S no good? This is the path between Good and Evil

However! We’ve got rules here too If someone’s in trouble We’re all going down together

Charisma Battle Anthem (google.com)

#english translation #matchagyudon #translation #charisma #charisma house #crsm #karisuma #fumiya ito #rikai kusanagi #tendo amahiko #terra #iori motohashi #minato ohse #kei sarukawa

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ducknotinarow · 1 year

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Ariel frowned as she followed Summer closely, the mutant feeling nervous as she glanced around, the music growing louder as the approached this 'underground concert'.

"Summer, I'm not so sure about this," Ariel voiced her concerns, growing more worried by the second, "I know you said I'd fit in and all, but, what if someone notices I'm not wearing make up - what if someone realises I'm, you know, not human?"

Alas, it's a bit too late to turn back now, Ariel clearly nervous about this entire,

"I'm beginning to think this may have been a bad idea Sums."

| muse interaction

Clothes were such a pain to deal with Summer thought to herself idly chewing on the end of a finger nail. A few selections of clothing laid out across her bed. Sure she could go with the usual look but not tonight. Dad and Pops were slipping out the night to do some dragons hunting. Guess they were a tad wound up and Pops especially had been feeling stir crazy it seemed.

They weren't the only ones Ariel seemed to get just as bad herself at times. But well that seemed pretty fair considering Ariel often was stuck hidden away which is why Summer schemed this plan tonight. You think her dad's would expect this more all things consider but she did her best work. Summer was well aware how she had her Dad's wrapped around her pinky. They may be qoute on qoute two of the toughtest and meanest guys in all of the city worse when together. But when it came to Summer thier baby girl?

Complete and utter mush.

So, a simple little mention that she would just love to go to the lair tonight to hang out with her basically sister. So they wouldn't have to worry about her. Cause ya know she doesn't see her enough, and they are just so close. Honestly, Summer was pretty sure she could commit murder in front of her Dad's, and they would just suddenly go blind. It's not like she took advantage of their trust for bad stuff no never. But she did use it to be just a little sneaky.

Summer assured her dad's she was at the lair. And those at the lair were assured Ariel was at Casey's and Raph's place. Yeah, they were for now. Summer had a plan for tonight, which is why she was looking over the clothes in front of them and then to her cousin. Ariel was so tall and lanky. And thanks to Casey being the dad of the block had perks in that they were given many hand me downs for summer. Definitely defined her style mkre for vintage over anything else. Ariel though?

"How about this top wit' these pants they should fit! An' this 'acket should work as well!" Ariel on the other hand didn't seem to sure of this little outing Summer had in mind. "Come on it'll be fine." Ariel wasn't getting cold feet because of this sneaking around nah. They were the kids raised by Raphael and Donatello so being a little sneaky? Yeah that should have been expected nah she was more nervous about where Summer planned for them to go tonight. "Maybe a pair of Dads jeans will work better he 'ike the only tall well other tall person I know eh sorry ya, just a gaint, it won't matter."

---

Now for a change Summer was getting to lead the way. She had heard of the night lofe of the city bit the crime one her dad's and family dealt with nah. The real night life! People coming out at night to crowd and bring a whole other side to the city alive. Music abd chatter was Gillingham the air as Summer and Areil made their way down the stairs.

No one had paid much attention to either of them, especially the Areil, who you would think would stand out. When compared to guys with gelled up spiked Mohawks, people covered in tattoos and metal galore, it was hard to say where their skin even began. You'd almost think you were hanging around a purple dragon gathering this was better!

"Summer, I'm not so sure about this,"

"It fine Ari come on ya always sayin' how ya wanna see and be around peeps 'ight?" Summer stated, walking ahead of her her cousin as if she owned this building. A few stares shared with others in the crowd should be enough to say she's been here before. Enough to knkw how to carry herself at least. Voicing a lack of worry herself.

"I know you said I'd fit in and all, but, what if someone notices I'm not wearing make up - what if someone realises I'm, you know, not human?"

Summer stopped once they got further in and the crowd had more space to spread out and not feel so suffocating. Hands in her pockets as she fixed Ariel with a look. She then turned her head to the side gesturing her head for her cousin to follow " 'hat dude 'ver there got a snake on his shoulders." She turns to the other side and gestures her head once again " an' 'hat women got garlic on her neck and white paint on her face. Some hows I feel ya blend in fine here."

"I'm beginning to think this may have been a bad idea Sums."

"What bo come on ya can' back out on me now!" Summer lifting jwr hands out from her pockets to hold on to her cousins hands now. " Look, I know it suck 'hat ya always gotta hide, but 'hats why I think this place is perfect it's full of freaks 'ike us." Sure to Ariel, Summer was normal she was a human girl. To the rest of the world? She didn't fit the mold she was damaged and broken the day she was birthed, lucky to have gotten a home in the first place. Ariel and Summer were one of the same and different, but to Summer, that was enough to put them in their own category. It's not a nicely titled one, but still.

"Look around you no on has even noticed and ya tall as fuck girl! Ya really 'hink a crowd 'ike this is gonna care or notice?" Summer offers hoping it convincing enough. Sure in part she did this for herself but she wanted it to be for Areil too a place she took might just feel not so excluded? " Look let's stay ten minutes tops that 'ike two songs tops. If ya still feel worried well go. But" She pauses and looks around "this is the first place outside home I felt I belonged but not all of me is here unless I can share it with ya? So if ya don' 'ike it then we leave but give it a chance first?"

#muse| summer jones #madamkezzie #aflockoffeathers #[ sister from another mister -aflockoffeathers]#muse interaction #stayed qeued #(( summer just trying to find her place but ariel has to be there too ;3;))

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sailorhyunjinz · 3 years

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I always wonder how skz would react to an s/o with a LARGE SEX DRIVE SHSBDBS idk like guys r usually super horny but imagine if u were hornier than them HAHA

BRRRAH QUICK REACTION POST!

warnings: mostly dom!skz x gn!reader. impact play, nicknames, hickies, masturbation, exhibitionism, overstimulation, slight dacryphilia, sex toys, daddy kink, riding, degradation, dumbification.

Bangchan:

The thing is not that he wouldn’t like it,,, more like he would be tired?

Sure,,, he has good stamina but he would more prefer longer sex sessions that are more intimate and romantic rather than a bunch of quickies.

but thats like... 95% of the time, the remaining 5% is dicking you down so hard you won’t be able to walk because “you asked for it, you dumb fuck”

BUT THATS RARE

you would really have to get him worked up in order for that to work

and even then he would only go for maybe 2 rounds

“c-chan... one more time~” you said after cumming for the third time that night. “y/n, arent you sleepy?” he says, chuckling. you shake your head, “just one more time!” you say all giddy to which bangchan sighed.

Minho:

ok now hear me out, im not gonna mix astrology in here,,, but i am going to mix astrology in here lmao

this boy a scorpio

a scorpio

meaning his intimate parts rule over his body (JUST SAYING TAKE IT OR LEAVE IT)

so he loves this. A LOT

any opportunity to be inside of you he’ll take

he’s hella horny and would like a s/o that matches that aura so HEY! fits perfectly (thats what she said)

show any sign of a sexual act and he wont hesitate to slam you against a table

legit as small as licking a lollipop

“stop that unless you want my dick in your throat” he says, not even looking up from his phone as the sounds of you sucking a lollipop fills the room. you don’t stop, no, you go even harder. he looks up from his phone. “is that a yes?”

Changbin:

ahh... binnie binnie is head over heals for this

he finds it extremely hot that you initiate the sex most of the time

it shows that you really want him

and he likes attention and feeling appreciated so this works

also has kind of a firey attitude

meaning that he gets worked up real quick

just like minho it doesnt take much for him to notice your sexual signs

“binnie~ i need you” you whisper in his ear as he’s working on something on his computer. you drag your lips across his neck and nibble on his ear before he turns around and glares at you with dark eyes. “princess/prince wanna play that game huh?”

Hyunjin:

shy to initiate so this makes it easier for him

his stamina is relativly high

but i feel like there would be kiiind of a gap between the two of you since he’d be completely exhausted after a couple of rounds but you beg for more.

leaving him with no other choice but to give it to you

since he loves you too much to say no ><

i feel like he’d make fun of you for it

LMAO I DONT KNOW WHY BUT JUST HE’D FIND IT FUNNY THAT YOU’RE ALWAYS SO DESPERATE

“hyunjin,, please!” you says in the nicest tone you could muster but only being mocked by hyunjin copying you in an annoying voice

“HyUnJiiinNn~” you burst into laughter, hitting him playfully on the shoulder. “thats what you sound like y/n!!”

but nah most of the time he will take it but always with some playfulness first.

Jisung:

HORNY TEENAGER JISUNG AGENDA

all the time

no matter where or when

some of yall are about to be real mad at me but it must be said HASHAHAH STOP CHER STOP

he just gives me this hormonal teenager vibe

and so there’s a lot of fucking in a lot of unconventional places

simply because his angel wants it

it even borders to him being even hornier than you but you find joy in that

you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve caught him watching porn or masturbating BECAUSE IT HAPPENED OFTEN

and everytime it would lead to heated sex that could last for hours

“h-help me y/n! dont just stand there s-staring” he says, blushing a bit as he openly strokes his dick infront of you. you shrug your shoulders, closing the bedroom door and inching closer to the warm boy.

Felix:

tough one to read... hmmm....

honestly he wouldn’t mind

sure he’d be tired

and therefore he’d rather prefer seeing you ride a dildo or something

because then you’re satisfied and he doesnt have to do much

NOT THAT HE’S LAZY

just that he likes to cuddle and chill more than being inside of you all the time

he’s sensitive which has its pros and cons

pro: easy to get horny

con: easily overstimulated

WHICH SURE you’d find it fun to torture him by keeping him cumming over and over again

but poor boy would be crying in the end

which only added to your horniness OOP

“y/n,, s-stop please im begging you,, ahhgh..” he moans from underneath you, you putting him through his fourth orgasm which is causing him to shake and cry as you didn’t stop riding him. “mhm... but I wanna cum once more, not fair... you can cum so many times but I can’t! be a good boy and shut up, maybe i’ll let you go after this round”

Seungmin:

giving me that same energy that chan has

but this time instead of 95:5 its more like 65:35

meaning 65% romantic puppy that wants to take his time with you, roaming his hands all over your body and really connecting with you

and the other 35% well... more like relentless pounding, all covered in love bites and hand prints (im drooling)

he becomes all hard dom when he’s stressed and soo...

you get him stressed which ok you feel bad about but... he gets to release all his stress (and cum) on you and you get what you want

DING DING DING! win-win situation!!

so yeah he would like it most of the time especially when you’re stressed and especially when you’re a brat

turning him on by rubbing on his lap but running away the next second

he likes to make you obey rather than you already obeying.

he was watching tv peacefully when you suddenly plopped down on his lap, starting to squirm about when watching a tv show. he held you down by the waist. “shh stop” he says once with a bitter tone but you didn’t listen, only continuing to move and feeling his member getting harder. “Is d-daddy getting hard?” you coo at him with a mischievous voice to which seungmin sighed, his hands snaking around your upper body and wrapping around your neck, pushing your back against his chest. “little fucker wanna play with daddy”

oml why did this become so aggressive i have a lot of pent up sexual frustration ASHASHS

Jeongin:

he’d find it really hot in the beginning

but what he didn’t realise was how tiring sex is

yk teenagers! learning as they go (i like how im talking about this as if im older than him LMAO)

catch his search history being: “is it normal to have sex everyday”

he’d be sore :((

and when he told you that he probably needed to just cuddle he felt bad because he always wanted to please you

but the two of you would find your ways around it

vibrators EHHEHE

especially those remote control ones

he’d just go ham with those I KNOW IT

because just like felix, you’d be satisfied and he could chill for the time being

beg pretty enough and he’ll give you the real thing

“b-but i need you now jeongin! stop with that fucking controller!!” you try to snatch it out of his hand but fail. “say please” he says, looking at you with sweet brown eyes. “pl-pleaseeee~!” he melts into a puddle of blushes as he speaks “alright but only because you’re a good one”

HEY THIS WAS SO MUCH FUN WRITING!! send in sum more, i’ll make them into short reactions like these because my requests for the “official” reactions is closed (will probably open shortly) but YEEEAH

thank u anon for your very very smart brain and for requesting HEH ><

also this is not proof read so ignore any mistakes OOP

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rubykgrant · 3 years

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I’m gonna write out little high-lights of my RVB Monster AU for Halloween reasons~ Things happen in a mostly normal-world modern setting, but obviously with monsters/fantasy creatures and such. Things plot-related happen almost the same way, but some stuff is earlier/later, shuffled around to work for my own purposes (so some of the key moments still happen, but occasionally in a different order). Here is the beginning, which as always, starts with two morons asking a big question-

“Hey?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you ever wonder why we’re here?”

“Well, that’s one of life’s great mysteries, isn’t it?”

The two men were standing on the rooftop of an old warehouse. The building had gone through several owners, being used as a storage facility, a garage for fixing up cars and various vehicles, a shipping business, a veterinary clinic for large animals and livestock, a recycling center… and possibly some kind of drug lab at one point. It was none of these now, but if a stranger saw the inside, they would assume the new owner was a combination a mechanic/pet doctor, using the left-behind equipment (and considering how shady everything appeared, a stranger would also probably assume this was a front for yet another drug lab). It was still none of these things. In truth, it was much stranger.

One man stood slouching with the late-afternoon sun on his back. The other was leaning against a vent that came out of the roof, in the shadows. He had a red long-sleeved button-up shirt on (despite the hot temperature), and black jeans. His shirt was neatly tucked-in, and his matching red hair was trimmed short in what was decidedly a “going to a job interview” style. His eyes were two different colors. Once, they had both been a soft brown, but now one was glass, the color of the iris some kind of magenta… or maroon. The other eye (the one that was still organic) was a golden-yellow. He looked like somebody who had gone through a growth-spurt some years back, and still hadn’t settled into himself; too lanky and gawky for his own good.

His companion in the sun was a little shorter, and considerably larger, but completely at ease with his shape and his weight. His skin was mostly a warm copper brown… but he had several patches of mis-matched skin tones on his left side; around his eye, his chest, his arm, his leg. Each area also showed several scars, signifying that it was the result of surgery and skin-grafts. His dark brown hair was parted in the center, falling down around his shoulders in long curls, and stubble on his chin. His eyes were so dark, they almost looked black. He wore an old faded baseball shirt (once white with orange on the collar and short sleeves, now a dingy-peachy color), and loose gray jeans that were worn-out at the knees. They were quite the odd pair, opposites in many ways that were obvious (and more that were evident in their interactions), yet it was clear they were used to each other’s company.

“Why ARE we here?” the man in the sun continued, answering the question from his friend in the shadows. “I mean, are we the product of some cosmic coincidence, or is there really a god watching everything? You know, with a plan for us and stuff. I don't know man, but it keeps me up at night…”

“WHAT?” the other man stood up a little straighter, but remained behind the vent. “I meant why are we out HERE, in broad daylight? Sarge KNOWS it’ll burn me, and there’s not even anything for us to do! The only reason he sends us out to keep watch is because there’s that building over there he thinks is haunted, but we can’t see anything from here… and if there WAS anything going on over there, like ghosts or whatever, they could definitely see US! We don’t have any cover on the roof, but whoever might be over THERE is hidden behind the windows!”

“Oh… uh, yeah…”

“What was all that stuff about god?”

“Nothing,”

“You sure?”

“Yeah,”

They both decided to just skip it, and move on.

“But seriously, why ARE we out here, and why does Sarge care about that building so much?” the taller man waved his arm, gesturing to the building in question.

“I guess he wants to try catching ghosts next, or something?” the shorter man shrugged.

“Then we should just GO OVER THERE, right?”

“Pfff… nah, are you kidding? Just standing around, looking at a building? This is the easiest job I ever had,” he sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Grif, you- OK, first of all! This isn’t a JOB, we aren’t getting paid! Second, you don’t even remember most of your life before a few months ago, you have no basis of comparison!”

“Fair point, but come on Simmons… seriously? What job could I have possibly had that would be easier than this?”

From his spot in the shadows, Simmons looked away for a moment, thinking.

“Hmm… well, I remember reading about people being paid to take part in sleep studies. You just nap and keep a dream journal, or whatever…”

“Oh man, are you kidding!? I WISH that was my life!” Grif kicked at an old rusty can, causing it to fall off the roof. “Instead, here I am, stuck in this stupid building, in this stupid town, in this stupid canyon-”

“Where we have to look at a potentially haunted building, at random intervals, day and night…” Simmons added.

“All because Scruffy the Vampire Slayer is paranoid!”

Despite himself, this caused Simmons to snort laughter. Grif grinned, pleased that his pun was appreciated.

“Even if that building IS haunted… it doesn’t seem like something bad, you know? I never see anybody running out of there screaming bloody murder. If we just ignored it, what would happen? Nothing. It would just be a boring building with boring ghosts, and we’d just be another boring building with boring… whatever we are,” Simmons leaned once more on the vent, glaring up at the sky that was still dangerously bright.

“I think monsters sums us up pretty good,” Griff suggested.

“Right, monsters who don’t do anything. Over there are ghosts who don’t do anything. Whoopty-fucking-doo…”

“You gonna actually SAY that to Sarge? Hmm? Gonna finally stand up to him, use your big-boy voice, and tell the crazy old man you don’t wanna follow orders anymore? Is this beginning of your rebellious phase?” Grif reached over, shoving Simmons lightly on the arm.

“Well… no… but! I’m gonna remind him that me being outside in the day is a bad idea! YOU should get the day shift, and I should get the night shift. It just makes sense,”

“Aww, but Simmons… then we wouldn’t get to spend quality time together, having all these deep and meaningful conversations!” Grif gave him a look of fake-concern, like he was hurt and might start crying.

“Oh, right. I forgot. We’re philosophers discussing the secrets of the universe, life’s great mysteries, right?” Simmons smirked.

“Exactly… like, if you could only taste one thing for the rest of your life, what would it be? No matter what you ate, it has the same flavor?” Grif asked.

“That’s a stupid question for a vampire, man. Everything I eat DOES have the same flavor now. It all tastes like blood, because guess what? I have to drink blood. Because I’m a VAMPIRE,” Simmons shook his head.

“No, but I mean, if you could magically taste something ELSE, whether you were drinking blood or eating a salad, or whatever, what would you pick?” Grif pressed on. “I’d want everything to taste like chocolate. Milk chocolate. That’s my favorite, and I’d never get sick of it…”

“Jeez… it would’ve been impossible to get you to chill out if you tasted chocolate every time you tried to eat a person!” Simmons replied, remembering how it had been with Grif when they first found him.

“Yeah, I don’t know what those other zombies were on about… brains and human flesh is GROSS. Chocolate, though? MMM, I could do the zombie-shuffle-walk for days to get some good chocolate,”

“Uh-huh, and that’s EXACTLY how we caught you!” Simmons almost reached out to return the arm-punch, but managed to hesitate and stop in time… Grif was still in direct sunlight, and Simmons would get scorched if he left his little patch of shadow. Grif seemed to realize this, in that quiet and easy way that caused both of them to somehow pick-up each other’s habits. Grif leaned over to nudge Simmons with his shoulder, and they both laughed together.

#red vs blue #rvb fic #monsters #vampires #zombies

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wefoundloveunderthelight · 3 years

Photo

Wonderland by GleefullyCaptainSwan

Or on FF

Tagging: @kmomof4 @lfh1226-linda @teamhook @itsfabianadocarmo

Chapter 6: As You Wish

Emma wasn’t waiting for Ruby to get back to her room. Not at all. She was simply staring at the door in case anyone interesting walked by. At least that is what she told herself. She had spent the last hour convincing herself that she didn’t care what Ruby and Killian were up to. She could barely stomach the guy at all and if Ruby wanted to deal with his bullshit, who was she to stop her.

She peeked her head out the door and peered down the hall.

“Help you with something Emma?”

She jumped and grabbed her heart. “My God you scared me.” Graham was standing behind her with a grin across his face. “Um no, I was just waiting for Ruby to get back from…” She paused and bit her lip. “The cafeteria.”

“Bit late to be eating don’t you think? It’s almost lights out.”

Emma panicked. She didn’t want to get anyone in trouble. “Female issues.” She said with a shy smile. “Chocolate make the cramps go away.” She cringed at her own words and he put his hands up in front of him.

“Say no more.” He backed away quickly and continued down the hall.

“Ugh.” She groaned just as she heard voices coming from the other end of the hallway. She ran back into the room and jumped into her bed, grabbing a magazine, and holding it up in front of her, quickly flipping it again so that it was right side up.

“Thanks again Ruby, you really are a very sweet lass.” Emma rolled her eyes, staring down at the magazine.

“Well, you know what I said earlier, you come find me, anytime.”

“Goodnight, Love.”

“Night Killian.”

Emma felt like vomiting. It wasn’t that she cared about Killian and Ruby doing whatever they were off doing together, she didn’t. Not entirely. Maybe she was just lonely. That had to be what it was. She’d felt alone since getting to the island.

Well, that wasn’t exactly true either. She and Jefferson had become like kindred spirits. He had a way of making her laugh that made her feel free. She hadn’t felt that way in such a long time that she found herself looking forward to hanging out with him. Not that she didn’t think he might have a screw loose, or maybe even two. But he was very sweet to her and she enjoyed the attention.

So maybe it wasn’t loneliness that had her seeing red when Ruby walked into the room, her cheeks flushed, and her clothes still covered in sand. “Looks like you had an interesting evening.” She said dryly.

The girl looked down at her clothes, brushing them off with a giggle. “Oh yeah well, we were um…”

Emma rolled her eyes. “I don’t care to hear the damn details.”

“I was right about one thing though.”

Emma looked up from her magazine. The girl stretched her hands apart and mouthed ‘big dick’. Emma shook her head, her insides fuming as she gritted her teeth. “Don’t care, Rubes.” She tossed her magazine to the ground and rolled onto her side, pulling her covers over her head. “Turn off the light when you are done, please.”

She didn’t sleep well that night. She told herself it was because in the morning she would have to go to another group therapy session, but she knew that wasn’t entirely the reason for her foul mood. Looking over at Ruby still sleeping in her bed, she got up and quietly dressed for the day, sneaking out to grab some breakfast before their session. She didn’t feel like spending the morning listening to her roommate talk about Killian or the size of any of his damn parts.

She grabbed her tray, a short stack of pancakes and bacon, before settling into a seat in the corner of the cafeteria. It was quiet and she was grateful to have a moment to collect her thoughts before she had to deal with the entire group again. Apparently therapy patients were not early risers because she continued to be the only person in the room for thirty minutes. However, as soon as she heard his voice, she started gathering her plates and stood from the table, watching as Ruby and Killian entered the room, both laughing about something stupid she was sure he had said.

She threw away her garbage and walked toward the door. “Something I said again?” He joked loudly as she approached the exit. She paused for a moment and turned back toward him, extending her middle finger, before continuing toward the hallway. She didn’t know why she was being so childish, but it felt good.

She was still early for group, but she didn’t know where else to go so she made her way to the room and sat in an empty chair around the circle.

“You don’t get any bonus points for being early.” She looked up to see August enter the room. “But I’m glad to see you came back.”

“Ready for round 2 of my interrogation.” She said mockingly.

“We haven’t really had a moment to chat.” He looked around the room. “Seems now is as good a time as any.” Emma shrugged, looking apprehensive. “Look, I just wanted to apologize for last session. I want you to know it wasn’t personal.”

“Really? Because it felt personal.”

“Look I’ve been here four weeks now, I get it. It’s not easy coming from a life you know to somewhere like this where you are forced to face the darkest shit about yourself. It’s not always fun looking that deep.”

“Or having someone tell you who you are when they don’t even know you.”

“Fair point, Emma. But have you ever had anyone just tell it to you how it is, no bullshit, no sugar? Because that’s where you gotta get to here. You have to rip the bandage off and let it bleed.”

“That’s graphic.” She scowled.

They heard voices and looked up as the others entered the room. Ruby coming in and plopping down in the seat next to her. “You got up early.”

Emma shrugged but smiled at her.

Killian took the seat directly across from her, his dark eyes meeting hers as Dr. Hopper walked in with Will and Jefferson.

“Looks like the gang is all here.” Will joked, taking the seat on the other side of her. “Mornin’ beautiful.”

Emma scrunched her nose, watching him from the corner of her eyes. “Um hi.”

“Alright who wants to go first today?”

“I will.” Ruby volunteered and Emma happily turned to her other side to watch her roommate speak.

“My Grans is coming to family day this time. I’m really excited to see her.”

“That’s great, Ruby. That’s a big step. You didn’t think she would come last time we talked.”

“Yeah, I guess she’s still upset with me. Disappointed, but she’s willing to come support me.”

“How are your phone calls going with her?”

“Good, a bit short still. She doesn’t want to have to talk about all the um, men, I’ve done around town. Apparently, I have a fan club that comes looking for me at the diner.”

“Is it just you and her at home?”

“Um yeah, she took care of me for as long as I can remember.”

“Your parents are gone?”

“Dad passed when I was five, mom didn’t handle it well. She wasn’t around much and then it was just me and Grans.”

“So, you grew up without a man in your life?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“Do you think not having a father around might have led to an unhealthy obsession with men?”

She shrugged. “I guess. It’s not like I sleep with men because I want my daddy if that’s what you’re thinking?”

“Sounds to me like daddy issues is a common theme in this room.”

Emma glared at August. “Again, with that shit? Can a woman have self-esteem issues without you automatically assuming it has to do with a man?”

He held his hands up in front of his body. “Truce, please continue.”

“Anyway, in the beginning I liked being with them because they bought me alcohol. Treated me nice, bought me things. But then I just found that I wanted to please them, almost like I needed to, like it made me high anytime I was offering sexual favors.”

“I wish I had a sex addiction.” Will announced and every laughed. “Sure, sounds like a better way to get high.”

“Sex addiction is not a laughing matter, it’s very serious. It leads to unhealthy relationships, low self-esteem, depression.” Their therapist tried to explain.

“That about sums me up.” Ruby said with a shrug, a frown on her face for just a moment before her mask took over again and she plastered the smile back on her face.

“I don’t get how having sex is somehow a serious issue.” August rolled his eyes and crossed his arms against his chest.

“You know, you may not take it seriously, poor little rich girl, got drunk, had sex with a man who beat the shit out of her, took too many pills, and ended up here. Sex addiction seems stupid to you but try living with it every day. When the only way to feel good about yourself is if you please someone else.” Ruby had tears on her cheek and Emma reached over to take her hand.

August sighed. “I’m sorry Rubes, you’re right, it was wrong of me to say that.”

“I don’t need your pity. Or yours.” She pointed to Will. “Maybe yours, cuz you’re hot.” She winked at Killian and Emma flushed.

“Ok thank you for sharing today, Ruby.” Archie interjected thankfully before Ruby could continue her shameless flirting.

“Emma, why don’t you share something today.”

Emma sighed deeply. “I uh, not sure where I’m supposed to start.”

“Let’s talk about how old you were when you first started drinking.”

“I probably started when I was 14. I went to a party with a Neal.”

“And Neal is your boyfriend, correct?

She looked at her hands. “Um, yeah, he’s my boyfriend. We met when I was twelve and he was just always around.”

“Was he upset by your drinking?”

She laughed. “Not at all. Neal actually made me my first drink.”

“Are you and Neal the same age?”

“Nah he’s a couple of years older than me, so he was 16 when we went to our first party together.” She caught Killian’s eye and looked away.

“Emma, would you say that Neal was an enabler for your addictions?”

Emma flinched. “No.”

Her therapist squinted his eyes. “When did the drugs start?”

Her heart was starting to beat a bit harder in her chest. “I would say a couple years later. Maybe 16 or 17?”

“And where did you get them from? Was Neal part of the drugs as well?”

“Um, he had a dealer we would buy from.”

“Bloody hell.” Killian swore under his breath.

“What’s your problem?” She shot back at him and he glared back at her.

“Just seems like a real swell guy giving fucking drugs to a 16-year-old.”

She rolled her eyes. “That’s none of your damn business.”

“Apologizes, M’lady.” He bowed his head toward her and she felt the anger building inside her.

“Why are we apologizing at all? Killian has a point.” August interjected and Emma’s head snapped in his direction.

“Aye, he has a point.” Will mimicked.

“I’m the one in rehab, not Neal.”

“Yeah, but it sounds like he had a hand in getting you here. Did he even try and stop you when you started drowning?”

Emma bit her cheek, her knee bouncing in front of her. “Neal tried. He’s a good guy.” She lied. She knew they were right, but that was none of their damn business.

Killian snorted in disgust.

“I think I’m done sharing for today.” Archie nodded and turned toward Killian.

“Killian, why don’t we move to you since you seem eager to talk today.”

Emma smirked when he looked up at her. “Serves you right buddy.”

“Alright.”

Emma noticed how quickly his demeanor changed.

“When did you start drinking?”

“I was in a band.” Emma snorted and then covered her mouth. He peered through slanted eyes in her direction before continuing. “I’m just saying, it was different circumstances. I wasn’t a 14-year-old rich girl who could have anything she wanted.”

“I beg your pardon.” She scowled.

“It’s different, princess. I had nothing. We practiced in a broken-down garage with instruments we got from a pawn shop. My dad wasn’t around much and when he was, he was passed out drunk, my brother practically raised me. And when I wasn’t with Liam, Rob and I spent a lot of time writing songs and drinking.”

“Hypocrite.” She mumbled.

“Besides,” He said loudly. “We were just kids messing around. I didn’t start abusing alcohol until much later.”

“What do you think brought that on?”

Emma studied his face. She didn’t know why she was suddenly so invested in his story or why she cared at all.

“I guess it was probably all the pressure I was under to perform. The band was touring and as soon as the tour ended, I was expected to start filming a movie, I had just gotten engaged, and everything seemed to be spinning out of control.”

Engaged? Now that’s something she didn’t expect.

“Most of the time all that pressure comes from within, man.” Jefferson laid a hand on Killian’s shoulder.

“I guess, I mean the money I brought in was more money than my family had ever seen. At first it felt good to be able to provide but after a while, everything I did became about making sure that money kept coming in instead of just doing what I loved.”

Emma studied his face, looking for any sign of deception as he spoke, she found none.

The room got quiet and Archie finally spoke. “Ok you guys did great today. Let’s pause here and congratulate Emma and Killian on completing one week of rehab. Great job.”

Everyone clapped but Emma could only sigh. She’d only managed to get through one week. She didn’t feel like she had gotten anywhere, instead it was like she was frozen in place.

The group stood and broke off into smaller discussions. Will and Jefferson talking about the next visit to the gym and Killian and Ruby whispering in the corner, probably making plans for another roll in the sand, she thought.

She slipped out the back door while no one was paying attention and went in search of her refuge. It wasn’t until her feet climbed the hill under the pier that she let out a large breath. She sat down on the sandy embankment, watching the waves coming in and out with the tide.

“Permission to enter?”

She saw him standing at the edge of the pier, rays of sunshine brushing his hair. “Does my answer matter?”

“Of course, it does, Swan.”

She groaned. “What do you want?”

“I came to apologize.” He stood at the bottom of the embankment. “For earlier. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Which time.” She spat and then looked back at him; disappointment plastered across his face. “Sorry, habit. It’s fine. Seriously.”

He tentatively climbed the hill and sat down beside her. “I did not mean to make disparaging remarks about your boyfriend, Neal correct?”

She didn’t want to talk about Neal. She just shrugged and stared at the water. They sat in silence for a what felt like hours. It was comfortable, yet she couldn’t explain why.

“I started doing drugs when I met Milah.” He spoke softly.

“Is that your fiancé?”

He nodded sadly. “Aye.” He looked over at her and she noticed immediately that the bravado was gone.

“Is she coming for family day?”

He looked toward the ocean and released a deep sigh. “No.”

“Oh.”

“Can I tell you something?” Their eyes met and she nodded silently. “It was a car accident.” Her brow furrowed, not understanding him. “I had been drinking.” He paused, swallowing hard as if he was admitting something that was more for his benefit and not hers. “A lot. Milah and I got into a fight the night of my movie premier. I was angry and she was yelling at me. The road was wet, and I lost control of the wheel. I didn’t even see the truck.”

Emma swallowed. Oh my God. What was he saying? Her mouth was dry, and she didn’t understand why he was choosing to share this information with her.

“That’s how you lost your hand?” She finally spoke, hardly at a whisper.

He nodded sadly. “That was only part of my punishment. I lost everything I loved that night.”

Emma came to a slow realization for what the implication of his statement meant. Milah couldn’t come visit him for family day because she was no longer here.

“Killian I’m so sorry.”

“Please don’t apologize, that’s my burden not yours.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“I don’t know.” He whispered. “You called me out for lying previously. No one else even batted an eye.”

“I’m gonna let you in on a little secret. I’m pretty good at knowing when someone is lying to me.”

“Well now I’m not. And now you can admit the truth.”

She stared at him confused. “The truth about what?”

“Neal. It seems to me that he’s been there throughout your entire beginnings and yet here you are, alone. Where was he?”

“I fail to see how that is any of your business, but if you have to know, he’s waiting for me at home. He’s always been supportive of my recovery.”

“I see, so no one can lie to you, but you can lie to yourself. Seems quite cowardly.”

“I beg your pardon. Do you think because you chose to share something with me that suddenly that makes us…” She glared at him. “What? Friends?”

He stood and started to walk down the hill. She jumped up and chased him through the sand. “Did you think pretending to open up to me, telling me your secret was going to get you in my pants. Was Ruby not enough for you?”

He turned on her. “First off, Ruby is a much better friend than you are even capable of, but you can be sure, love, I have no intention of getting anywhere near your pants.”

“Good, because I have no interest in you.” She glared with her arms crossed.

“Nor I you.” He yelled.

They stared intently at each other, time standing still, fire burning in his blue eyes. He put his hands in the air and turned. “Forget it, Swan, I’ll leave.”

“Just stay the hell away from me.”

“As you wish.” He bowed, turning back toward the center, and jogging away.

She wanted to scream but didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. Instead, she fell back into the sand and cried. He seemed so sincere just five minutes earlier. It infuriated her that he could so easily get under her skin. She didn’t want to admit that he had seen through her, that he was right about Neal without even knowing the full story. She hated him for being right about anything, but she hated him more for being right about her. She was a coward.

Why was he trying to connect with her anyway? He was already having sex with Ruby.

It had never occurred to her that maybe he was just reaching out for someone to share his experience with. Besides, he did come to her in private, he wasn’t like August, going after her in front of everyone else. And how did she repay that? She yelled at him. Accused him of divulging something so personal with her in exchange for sex. It angered her that she may be in the wrong.

After all, she was the one who had kissed him. Perhaps he wasn’t interested in her at all. He had never made any attempts to kiss her since that day. And now she was pretty sure he hated her. As Emma walked back to the center that evening, she realized that even in rehab she was a complete and utter screwup.

#wonderland fic #wonderland #stacy's fics #emma x killian #killian jones #emma x hook #emma swan #captainswan #captain swan #captain swan au #captain swan fics #captain swan modern au

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boopypastaissalty · 4 years

Text

Here sre some of my Sanders Sides theories. Long post btw so yee

Roman and Remus were originally one all-encompassing creativity, then they split and become the two different sides of creativity, or the "Creativitwins". Their names seem to follow a theme: Ancient Rome, specifically the legend surrounding the creation/beginning of Rome. I think that the original creativity's name was Romulus. Here's why: Remus killed Romulus over a land dispute and then started the city of Rome in his brother's name. Citizens of Rome are called Romans. Though it could be argued that Thomas's moral sense as a concept, not necessarily Patton, separated the two, thus "killing" the original creativity.

Patton may have suffered from anxiety and could have created Virgil as a way to relieve some of his stress, therefore making him Virgil's "dad" in a sense, in Patton's mind warranting him calling Virgil "kiddo" all the time.

We all know that Patton is allergic to cats, but what about the others? What are their weaknesses? My speculations are that Virgil is iron deficient, as he doesn't like to rise up because it makes him dizzy, he is also described by Roman to be the "fairest of them all" and then admitting it was a pale joke in Virgil's expense. Roman is lactose intolerant, as when Patton is feeding him cream of broccoli soup, Logan says that it will "upset Princey's stomach". Logan is OCD: Always planning and organizing things. He gets upset when things don't go exactly as he plans it. He also feels the need to always be right and to make sure everyone else is kept in line. Also: Patton seems to suffer from depression. Oftentimes depressed people crack jokes and give people the general idea that they are happy. They also try to make other people happy. Patton also sometimes gets into these sad funks and even says "I had this problem where I'd hide my less than awesome feelings, so when I would feel like sobbing I'd just smile and crack jokes. I thought that was coping, only joking, never showing sadness, hoping it would just go away".

The thumbnail for "Putting Others First - Selfishness v. Selflessness Redux" has a character selection screen telling the viewer to "select a side", but one thing I noticed is that there is a blank box, indicating a locked character or a character who hasn't been revealed yet. Another thing I noticed is that the sides have a rainbow theme going on. Thomas even says that he is "full rainbow all the time" as an allusion to his sexuality, and possibly even the sides in general. Roman is red, there is no known orange side, Janus is yellow, Remus is green, Patton is light blue, Logan is indigo, and Virgil is violet/purple. Red is the color of physical strength, power, confidence, and passion, which suits Roman's personality. Yellow can be happiness and joy, but also directly means cowardice and deceit, which is self explanatory. Green is a color of healing, life, and vitality, but the flip side being greed, jealousy, pessimism, and superficially. Blue is the color of trust, loyalty, faith, wisdom, truth, patience, and understanding, which sums Patton up pretty well. Indigo resembles wisdom, integrity, fairness, impartiality, and justice, which is all right up Logan's alley. Violet is the color of ambition, dignity, devotion, pride, mystery, independence, magic, being cynical, and mourning, which all makes sense in Virgil's case. Now to orange, which resembles joy, sunshine, risk taking, adventure, enthusiasm, creativity, attraction, success, rudeness, frivolity, and untrustworthiness, which is a balance of traits that both Roman and Remus have and directly resembles creativity, so orange could be a fusion of Roman and Remus, the original creativity before they split. Another possibility for the next side is someone who resembles ethos, as we have pathos and logos (Patton and Logan).

All the sides have an ancient Rome theme going on. Roman and Remus, after the legend surrounding the beginning of Rome. Virgil, after the Roman poet Publius Vergilius Maro, who is often called Virgil. Janus (formerly known as Deceit) after the Roman god of the same name (Janus is the god of new beginnings and transitions, often depicted with two faces facing in opposite directions, one for the past and one for the future). All of the sides except for Patton and Logan, whose names are derived from pathos and logos, an ancient Greek concept proposed by Aristotle. And have you noticed that they mirror each other in almost every way, suggesting that, much like Roman and Remus, they are brothers, possibly even twins?

Dukes tend to not be a part of the royal family, but if so they are princes who have gotten married. Does this mean that Remus is married?!?!? If so to whoooo?

Welcome to me overthinking things again! What if Roman has control over the other sides? Like he's creativity and the sides are figments of Thomas' imagination, so like what if one day he was just done with Logan's nonstop fact train he just (this is extreme) went: "Fuck you, Logan, you're dead now" and Logan straight up dies? Like where would his power end if he could do that? Overthinking things can be scary kids, let me do it for you.

If you overthink it: Patton basically just was like "Nah" in POF SvSR. So he said in SvS that going to the wedding would make Thomas feel good, something that he basically controls because he is Thomas' moral sense and at the center of most of his feelings. Basically Thomas went to the wedding and Patton was like: "This is nice and all and you did the right thing, but uhmmm about those happy feelings. No." And then got all sorts of frustrated about being wrong. So yee. I am just doing the overthinking things thing again.

What if creativity split solely as a big "Fuck you, Logan"? Like I just imagine: C: "Hey Logan, I'm performing mitosis"

L: "Yes, your cells- *he looks up* Whaaaaa?"

R&R: "Cha cha real smooth, Logan"

And thus the twins were "born"

Logan thinks feelings are bad and claims to not have feelings, even though he clearly does (cough, cough, Crofters the Musical? Getting angry in some episodes? Logan, you're a bad liar, bud). So he bottles up most of his feelings, for all practical purposes making him a ticking time bomb. Something's probably going to happen and he won't be able to hold it all in and he'll have an emotional breakdown of sorts. Another thing is he will not duck out. He knows he's too important to Thomas' mental wellbeing for that. He is also getting progressively more angry as the others listen to him less, so he's probably going to overwork himself trying to get everyone to listen to the point where he physically can't be there for Thomas. Cuz like I suspect Logan leaving would have the same effect as Thomas having a massive stroke: The right side of his body wouldn't work, he wouldn't be able to talk/communicate, and his reasoning skills would be gone.

Janus just loves philosophy. Every episode in the main timeline, he makes references to famous philosophers to get his point across.

Patton is always the first of the light sides to accept the dark sides. First with Virgil and then with Janus. He may be taking them in as his troubled but lovable children who he will defend under almost any circumstance.

Virgil's name is not Virgil. People think his full name is Virgilius, though Thomas and Joan have previously stated that it isn’t. Bc of that, some people have theorized that Virgil was lying about his name, or that when he moved to the “light sides” he changed/used a different name, and maybe they’re going to reveal that sometime. Like the scene with Remus and Vee where Re goes, “I would never hide anything from you” looks pointedly at Virgil, and you assume it’s bc he took forever to tell Thomas, but what if it’s bc he was lying about his name from the moment he told Thomas??? And also the moment when Janus says "It takes a liar to know a liar" and Virgil says "Don't" and the response was "What? I'm only talking about your name" I think his name could be Acanthus

Ya know, Patton probably has an indirect role in how the other sides look. Not like "But you're anxiety, you wear the hoodie" but closer to Thomas beliefs of stuff like lying is bad and the fact that Janus often plays devils advocate, so he has a snake face

Random thoughts:

Virgil has the most ace/demi aesthetic and I love that

SvS: Multi part episode, "bad/evil/dark" side gets accepted, the FEELS, angst. Hmmm…

The twins getting along and just like sitting at a table causing minor chaos.

Patton randomly hugs everyone. He just does.

Janus and Patton: animal bros

#long post #sanders sides theories #bc why not #yee #noodles speaks #noodles theorizes

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sinfulserpents · 5 years

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Hi i know this might be a weird ask but you know those nsfw alphabet prompts? Could you do one for eithed Billy or steve (your chose)? They are like my favorite list things😅💕

we gon do it for my mans billy, but feel free to send in another request for steve

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

ngl i can see billy being the type to smoke after sex, like you’d be laying on his chest and his free hand would card through your matted hair while a cigarette lightly hung from the corner of his lips.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

billy loves his arms. mans has worked so hard to build the muscle on them, and they’re also really really good at helping him pin you to the wall

on you? literally anything he can leave marks on. your neck, breasts, thighs, ass - he loves it all

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

i guess we can all agree that billy is a kinky motherfucker

so cum is like a form of fucking art to him

he’d love to cum inside you and watch it fucking drip from your pulsing hole, but he’d also love to pull out and paint your chest / back (depending on what position y’all went at it in) with his seed

he’d also love when he came in your mouth after a blowjob and watch you clean him up

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

he’d want to experiment with shit like cock rings and anal - but would lowkey be terrified to talk to you about it because what if you weren’t into it???

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

oh, we all know that billy is EXPERIENCED. sex is another way for him to let out pent up anger and just get away from reality for a while

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying.)

he’d fucking love doggy style, like he can grip your hips and watch your ass bounce against his skin

but he’d also love when he’s able to put both your legs over his shoulders because that angle is to die for

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

nah, i think sex with billy would be mainly serious in the moment,

but sometimes he’d become a complete dork - like if y’all were having car sex and banged your heads on the roof/doors he’d begin to make jokes

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

i’d say that he has a lil landing strip or sum - mans loves to manscape

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

billy loves to have kinky and rough sex majority of the time, but if it was an occasion like your birthday, best believe he’d force himself to be romantic and sensual

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

billy has a HIGH SEX DRIVE

so our boy would masturbate a lot. before he met you it used to be to some blonde chick in a playboy, but now he has a whole collection of polaroids of you posing for him or him inside you and he gets of so easily to them

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

he has a huge daddy kink and nobody can tell me otherwise (mans is the biggest dom ever)

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

your house because his household is a shithole

the backseat or drivers seat of the camaro

but he’d highkey also be into public sex, like taking you in the change rooms of a store or some shit

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

anytime you wore something that showed your legs my god

or when you bite your bottom lip!!!

billy just gets turned on by the simplest things that you do

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

anything that he knows will badly injure you or anything you deadset told him that you were never going to do

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

billy loves to receive head - your mouth is a god send

but he also loves to give you oral, because his tongue drives you wild and he knows just where to suck and lick to get you there

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

we all know our boy loves fast and rough sex

he’s never really slow and sensual (unless it’s your birthday like i previously stated)

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

loves LOVES loves them

any time, any place - if billy could push you up against a wall, put his hand over your mouth and slam into you - he does

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

if you’re down to experiment, then he loves to try shit with you

i think the only risk he has ever taken without talking to you is breath-play, like he’d do it randomly one night - but luckily you’d love it

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

he has the highest sex stamina ever i stg

like he could probably go for five / six rounds and last a fair while during each one

because he never cums unless you do first

T = Toy

(Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

billy probably isn’t the biggest fan of toys

but you’d bring a vibrator into your sex-life when he randomly caught you masturbating with it

and he hasn’t looked back since, he loves just plugging you with it and getting you off just by leaving it in you

he probably lowkey uses it on himself sometimes, just holding it against his swollen tip and he swears he orgasms harder than normal with it

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

biggest! tease! ever!

he loves to see you writhing and begging for him to let you cum

edging is his shit! like you’d be whimpering and the sounds you make would just get him harder

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

he’d tend to hush his moans in your collar bone

but sometimes he just couldn’t hold his groans back and tHEY’D BE THE DEEPEST AND HOTTEST SOUNDS EVER

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

billy is packing down there

like a good six or seven inches and boy is thick as well so the pleasure would be fucking amazing

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

he has a huge sex drive, always finding ways to take advantage of situations and make them sexual

but he also knows when to control himself - he aint gonna take you on your family dining table even though he really wants to

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

billy would only fall asleep after sex if you ride him, like you’d collapse on his chest and the both of you would drift off to the other’s breathing - him still inside you

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waystobuild-blog · 4 years

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Who REALLY Deserves a Miraculous

First off, please understand that these are my personal opinions and all. I’d love to have conversations about whether you agree or not. So these days there’s a lot of hate on Miraculous and honestly, that’s fair. This was a show that started out with so much potential, but they kinda really dropped the ball on it. I’ve got a lot of different opinions on the show and maybe I’ll talk about them at a later date, but for now… Let’s talk about how I think the Miraculouses should be handled because oh boy.

So… Miraculouses in the show are handled in the worst way. Everybody gets one. You sit next to Marinette in class, congratulations? You qualify to be a superhero. Awesome, right? So many people get these things to the point that new holders are arguably not even all that special anymore because it doesn’t really feel earned it’s just there.

First off, let’s talk about who has Miraculouses and whether or not I feel they should actually have one or not.

Marinette and Adrien are givens. Main characters and both have a lot to gain. Sure. Alya. She’s definitely earned it. Nino. Honestly, I stand by that he really shouldn’t have one as the current show stands. He’s definitely come his own as a hero, but he doesn’t really have much to gain when it comes to being a hero or having a Kwami. The only thing I can really think of is that maybe if they used Wayzz as way for him to learn to be a little more serious with his life and for Wayzz to mellow out a little. That’s really the only direction I can see it being valid, but otherwise, nah. Chloe is an amazing pick and I’ll get more into why later on. Luka barely has a character to begin with and now he gets to be a superhero too? Wonderful. Max really shouldn’t have one and I’ll get into why later on. Kagami is an amazing pick. Alix is great, but she’s another later. Kim is a pretty good pick and we’ll talk about why, later. Now a lot of the characters that are holders are because Marinette is the one giving out Miraculouses and I think the easiest way for the show to have avoided this is to have continued to have Fu do his job as Guardian and continue to pick who gets a Miraculous. Maybe he can ask Marinette and Adrien who they think would be neat but allow the ultimate decision to come down to him. This would also solve a little bit of the problem that Chat doesn’t get to know who anybody is but Marinette getting to know everybody.

But now comes my criteria of what should qualify a character to get a Kwami and why? Well, this can be summed up into four different categories and of course, I’ll be giving examples as to who I think does or does not fit some of them.

1. If their character arc seems to lead towards them getting a Miraculous and being a hero. Pretty plain and simple. If a character has really shown to kinda be inching their way towards the world of Miraculouses then yeah, they should be one. Alya is the best example of this and is honestly the most deserving character. Not only was she Marinette’s biggest supporter but she was also Ladybug’s. She was constantly throwing herself into the fray and had even helped out times where she could. Doesn’t help that she was Marinette’s first choice to be Ladybug in Origins. Alya earned it. Nino on the other hand is the opposite of this to me and I maintain that he should’ve stayed a civilian. He’s great with Adrien but has zero connection to Chat Noir and very few times has been involved with Akuma attacks outside of being one. He hasn’t really earned it as a hero, nor does his character or arc seem to be leading him towards one. I offered the idea for maybe the whole learning from Wayzz thing but I dunno. But hey, that leads me into my next one.

2. They can somehow benefit from getting a Miraculous or Kwami. Some characters show that they need a Miraculous or a Kwami for different reasons or another. This is more of the idea, if they can learn something or need a friend in their life or can become stronger because of being a hero and having a Kwami, then yeah give them one. Enter Chloe. Chloe is a terrible person, but as Queen Bee you thrust a lot of power that she doesn’t really know what to do with in front of her. Getting a Miraculous forces her to try and be a better person. Kagami on the other hand, is someone who can gain a lot from having a Kwami. We’ve seen how strict her mother is and understand that she doesn’t have many real friends because of this. She can’t relax or kick back because of that. But with a Kwami in her life, she has a sort of special friend that her mother wouldn’t be able to take away from her and I honestly think that’s great. It would also allow her to grow and change and maybe even begin to start to get some of her own real friends with the help of her Kwami. Category 2 can even be shown in the main characters of the show. Marinette becomes braver and far more confident as Ladybug and as such, this begins to bleed into her average life as Marinette and Tikki has been shown to be a great moral compass. Adrien on the other hand is allowed to have the freedom he desires as Chat Noir just like Kagami. Now as someone who doesn’t match this category, let’s talk about Max. Max getting a Miraculous is cool. But aside from that, I genuinely don’t think he needs one in his life. He’s got Markov for one and since the series has started he’s become more and more sure of himself on his own save for the occasional depressive moment. I think he’d honestly be better off as a sort of Oracle character if you wanted to get him involved, but otherwise he’s pretty good as is. I maintain that even though I love this character to death, he doesn’t need a Miraculous or a Kwami.

3. If they somehow have a tie to a Miraculous. If a character has come into contact with a Miraculous or if something is later revealed to be a Miraculous in disguise, I think it’s earned. The only one that fits here is Alix. But I thought it was clear that her watch was somehow special and the reveal that it was a Miraculous was great. I think she earned it. Plus, she also fits into the next category.

4. Admittedly, if they seem capable and it suits them. Pretty much, if a character just has the qualities that make it seem like they’d be a good superhero or at the very least a fun one. This is kinda the reason I’m okay with Kim. Kim is pretty warmhearted, a fun guy and all around good fun. A Miraculous suits him.

Ivan Ivan is an easy category 2. He’s got his anger issues, but he’s also really shy. Give him a Miraculous to help him work on both his confidence and maybe keeping his anger under control. Match him up with something that makes it where looking at things calmly that can make him learn a little more about himself and the world around him.

Marc Marc’s got a lot of shyness that can be worked out like Ivan. Give him a little more self confidence with a Miraculous. It’d be neat to see that translated for him.

Sabrina Sabrina is the one I think deserves it the most and like the others falls into category 2, but on an even greater scale. Being a superhero would give her some self reliance from an emotional standpoint. Skills that she could begin to apply to her real life that could get her away from Chloe or at the very least change their relationship, where they can actually become equals. But seeing Sabrina become stronger and stand on her own would be wonderful.

Nathaniel As for Nathaniel, he falls more in line with category 1. It’s true that he doesn’t have much of a character arc. But what he does have is constant interest in Ladybug and very clearly wants to be a hero of some kind. If they wanted to, they could build upon that and have it lead up to him becoming a hero. I think he’d make a great pick. Plus, a little bravery like the others putting him a bit in category 2. But that’s all I’ve got. Now of course, I don’t think that having a Miraculous should be a fix to all character development nor do I think that it should be the only way characters can develop. It’s just that I think when you have this focal point of your universe, it should not be thrown around like it’s nothing. Miraculouses in canon, just don’t feel special to me anymore and I think that more thought and consideration should be put into it over what’s cool and I think following this guideline would help.

But these are just my silly opinions at the end of the day and maybe I’m just overthinking a kid’s show. Haha.

#miraculous #miraculous ladybug #miraculous tales of ladybug and chat noir #criticism #critique #i just want this show to be better

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lostinfic · 5 years

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6. Boston, Fall

Summary: He’s photographed devastated war zones, refugee camps and child soldiers. She writes for magazines about luxurious resorts in exotic places and five-star hotels in glamorous cities. For both of them travel is an escape, but he’s had enough of this grim reality, and she’s had enough of this disconnected fantasy. Perhaps together they can find something in between, something real, and stop running from themselves. Each season, a new destination and a chance to grow closer.

Pairing: Alec Hardy x Hannah Baxter Rating: Mature~ish (for now) Word count: 5k

A/N: Many thanks to those who commented on the chapter addition I posted this week, it felt really good to see people still interested in this story despite my absence. You’re the best!

Tumblr | Ao3

He couldn’t believe he was doing this again: waiting for her, unannounced, in front of the cruise terminal. In Boston, today. But it was different because she’d gone to his exhibition in New York and wrote a message in the guestbook, and that knowledge emboldened him.

He zipped his North Face jacket up to his chin against the cold sea breeze. And waited.

Finally she came out, leather jacket, pink travel mug and hair in lazy curls.

“Baxter,” he shouted, his voice betrayed his excitement, and he immediately buried his hands in his pockets, affecting a casual air. With a head tilt, he beckoned her closer.

Her eyes widened at the sight of him then narrowed to a furrowed brow. “What are you doing here?”

She didn’t look as happy to see him as he’d hoped. His stomach clenched.

“I hitched a ride with a mate,” he said.

“To come see me?”

“Nah, I’m a Red Sox fan.”

Sarcasm to muffle his beating heart.

A small smile appeared on her red lips which she hid behind her thick tartan scarf.

“Miss Baxter!” An Asian man jogged up to them. In his white and aqua tracksuit, the cruise line colors, he looked like a figure skater. The too-wide smile and forced eye contact betrayed his marketing position even before Hannah introduced him.

“Jeffrey Allen, the marketing liaison on board. And this is my— photographer, Alec Hardy.”

“Delighted to meet you, Mr. Hardy.” Jeffrey shook his hand with too much enthusiasm. “Now, Miss Baxter, Mr. Hardy, Festival Cruises is happy to provide its esteemed guests with complimentary shuttles to the heart of historical Boston. You will be boarding one, yes?”

“Actually, we—” Hannah began, but Jeffrey pushed her towards a big charter bus. With mild panic in her eyes, Hannah grabbed Hardy’s sleeve and tugged him along.

He followed her to the very back of the bus. She slouched down, pressing her knees against the seat in front of her. She apologized for yawning, she hadn’t slept well.

“Sea sick?”

She shrugged. “How did you know I was here?”

“Your whole life’s online.”

“Don’t you know you shouldn’t believe everything you read on the Internet?”

“That’s right, you didn’t post about seeing my expo yesterday. Not good enough for you?”

She toyed with the lid of her travel mug, twisting it left and right, then taking a sip.

“So you saw my message in the guestbook.”

“I did.”

“There was a photo of me in your exhibition.”

She sought his gaze. She wanted him to say more about the photo. One photo out of fifty. Aesthetically pleasing. That’s all. Or so he tried to convince himself. Her eyes mirrored his own anxious expectations. He wished she’d say more about his exhibition. What did she think? Why did she feel shaken?

She looked away first, bit the corner of her thumb nail. She flipped back to teasing.

“Besides, you need to pay if you want exposure on my blog.” She bumped him lightly with her shoulder.

He had this feeling again, of something on the tip of his tongue, something about her that escaped him every time.

Jeffrey came on the bus too, and they both groaned at the sight of him.

Yesterday, she’d skipped a special shore excursion to visit the World Press Photo event, she suspected Jeffrey would try to oversee her work today.

The man sat beside her across the aisle and monopolized her attention with talks of museum discounts. She listened with a tight, polite smile.

Hardy observed the other passengers, most of them silver-haired, carrying canes and walkers. It wasn’t adding up. He and Hannah may be very different types of travelers, but from her articles, he’d gotten the impression they both preferred to avoid the main tourist attractions to experience local culture. She ate street food, talked to people, danced to their music. This didn’t seem like her no matter how much they paid. But then again, he shouldn’t believe everything he reads online.

“Didn’t think you were the senior cruise type,” Hardy said, interrupting Jeffrey.

“I’m looking for a husband,” she joked.

“Preferably one on the brink of death?”

“And who loves to travel.”

She grinned, and his stomach unknotted.

“Well actually,” Jeffrey began, unprompted and unwelcome, “the average age of cruise passengers is lower than you would think.” He lectured them on the advantages of sea travel for the whole family.

Hardy rolled his eyes.

“I like to think of it as sampling the best of each port of call,” Hannah summed up.

“While dumping a ton of waste in the harbor,” Hardy said.

Jeffrey squinted his eyes at him. “You’re not one of our esteemed guests,” he realized.

He would have thrown Hardy off the bus if it weren’t on the highway. Hardy couldn’t care less, but Hannah’s glare stopped a lecture of his own.

“Don’t make me lose this job too,” she whispered to him.

Soon, the shuttle stopped near a visitor center. Mid-morning Boston was busy and cloudy. the scent of last night’s rain hung in the air, pigeons bathed in puddles. Shop windows sported pumpkins, real or painted or fashioned into garlands.

Hannah wanted better coffee than the one on board and headed for a coffee shop chain to refill her mug. Hardy coaxed her instead towards a local place advertising Fair-trade coffee.

Seven years ago, he’d photographed children harvesting coffee beans in terrible conditions. Seven years later people still didn’t care. Perhaps if he’d stayed in New York he could have convinced a few more people to choose their coffee brand wisely.

He’d meant to pay for Hannah’s beverage— an indication of his intentions— but work had clogged his mind again, and he found her handing him a cup instead.

They stood on the cobblestone pavement, unable to settle on an activity to do, neither wanting to make a decision the other might dislike. They had both been to Boston before. “As you wish,” was uttered more than once without any action following.

Hardy ran a hand through his hair and shifted his weight. Now that he was in front of her, he didn’t know what to say. It had seemed so easy in Singapore.

“I should probably get some work done,” Hannah said. “Check out a few landmarks, take some photos… “

“Right, yeah, don’t want you to be in trouble with Jeffrey. Sorry, I shouldn’t have come.”

Jeffrey interrupted them once more, coming out of the visitor center with a handful of brochures. He was really pushing for Hannah to join one of their guided tours.

Hardy opened a rideshare app on his cellphone. He had to drop by his friend’s place first, get his overnight bag back, but he might make it to New York City in time for Alys Tomlinson’s conference.

“Are you alright?” Hannah asked with a frown.

He hadn’t noticed Jeffrey’s departure.

“I know it’s not your thing, if you’d rather go…” she trailed off.

“Do you want me to?”

“I suppose not. Look, once that’s out of the way—” she waved the brochures— “we can go somewhere nice, yeah? Hang out.”

Maybe it was the caffeine finally kicking in, but there was a light dancing in her eyes as she said this, things promised but unspoken. His heart sped up like a puppy’s tail.

Hardy grabbed a random brochure out of her hands: the Freedom Trail. He studied the map. “This way.” He hurried away with long strides. “C’mon, Baxter, before Jeffrey comes back.” She laughed and caught up to him.

The trail started in Boston Common. In the park, ancient elm and oak trees fanned out their shades of red and orange. Dead leaves crunched under Hannah’s ankle boots as they walked among morning joggers and giggling preschoolers. They picked the shortest way across the park, took a wrong turn and ended up at the Frog Pond. The water surface reflected the cloudy sky, still but for the brush of weeping willow branches. Their pace slowed to a stroll.

“What did you mean earlier, about losing your job?” he asked.

“Well, I lost my job at Elite Travelers because of you and your bloody work ethic.” She poked him in the chest, and he crossed his arms.

After she’d followed his advice and exposed the magazine’s censorship, she was fired. That was only the beginning. Every other media part of the same conglomerate shunned her too. Magazines, newspapers, websites and TV shows she’d worked with before, now didn’t reply to her emails and phone calls. A secretary she’d befriended finally explained HR had blacklisted her.

As for hotels, anything part of Group Peregrine, the Mahal Kita Resort owners, became off-limits too.

“Don’t blame me for your shitty boss,” Hardy replied, though he did feel a smidge guilty.

“I know, I was taking the piss. I thought I could be like you, you know. That it’d be good for my reputation, I’d be credible, get more interesting assignments.”

“You did it for the wrong reason.”

“Alright, don’t worry, I did it for the people of Pulau Kesuma too. It can be both. I just mean I thought good deeds were supposed to be rewarded.”

“Give it time,” he replied lamely.

The cruise line’s offer was the first she’d received in weeks. They needed her to rejuvenate their image. “And I’m always up for a challenge,” she said, and he smiled at her determination.

“But you don’t like it.”

“I prefer to focus on the positive aspects.”

“Thought you were a journalist.”

“Exactly. I’m neutral. Just because something doesn’t appeal to me, doesn’t mean it wouldn’t appeal to someone else.”

“Fair enough,” he said.

“Really, I thought you’d argue more.”

He would have, but he was trying to make a good impression.

He told her he’d sent her article on Pulau Kesuma to Ellie who had translated it in Indonesian for the island population. “The maids you interviewed asked about you. Did you stay in touch?”

“They did?” She smiled, genuinely touched. “I haven’t… I meant to… did you stay in touch with anyone?”

“I try… I’m not great at it. I tell people letting me take photos will help, I give them hope. I have a responsibility to see that help through.”

“I don’t think I could ever do that. The responsibility…” She blew out a puff of air.

“It’s not all bad. I lived with this family in Kuwait, about— well, early in my career. I was young, the mother she fussed over me. She still writes to me. Yesterday, the youngest son had his first child, and they sent me a picture.”

He showed her the picture, saved on his phone, of Omar with a baby in his arms. Hannah leaned closer until their shoulders touched. Her weight against him made him forget what he wanted to say. She glanced at the photo, then looked up at him.

“You’re a good person,” she said.

He shrugged, embarrassed. He never helped as much as he wanted to, but it felt like false modesty to say so. In fact, the retrospective of his work in New York made him uneasy, and he was relieved to escape it for a day. But he knew he should have stayed to talk about the issues he’d photographed rather than go and have fun.

He was about to offer they sit on a bench and he’d buy her a pastry to apologize for her lost job, when he spotted Jeffrey, in his bright suit, on the other side of the carousel.

“I bet he’s spying on me,” Hannah said in a whisper. “We have to shake him off.”

They slowly backtracked and hid behind the trunk of a large tree.

Hardy looked at the Freedom Trail map. “We need to head that way, but he’ll see us. So we take this road to go around and exit the park.”

“Ok. Got it. Ready?”

Hannah grabbed his hand, and it surprised him so, he froze. She tugged on his arm. His legs remembered how to move, and they made a run for it. They dashed from tree to tree, laughing.

He’d once done the same to dodge bullets. This was much more fun.

Once they’d put enough distance between Jeffrey and themselves, they slowed down and Hannah let go of his hand.

They exited the park and reached the next stop on the trail, the Granary Burying Ground. Samuel Adams and Paul Revere were both buried somewhere beneath the time-worn tombstones. Neither Hardy nor Hannah could remember what made these men famous. As they kept walking, Hannah read out loud about the landmark while Hardy guarded her from colliding with anyone.

Two more landmarks and Hannah realized she’d forgotten to take photos for her blog. Hardy took hold of her camera and swiftly snapped photos of her in front of an old brown-brick building.

“Oi, I wasn’t ready.”

“It’s called street photography.”

They strode the streets, still looking over their shoulders for Jeffrey. The imaginary threat pushed adrenaline through their blood. They slalomed between tourists. Their breaths came quick and cloudy.

Old State House.

Quincy Market.

Hardy took shortcuts through private properties. “The trick is to look like you know where you’re going.” She found it thrilling. Their eyes gleamed, their cheeks flushed.

Paul Revere’s House.

Old North Church.

Inevitably, they talked about US politics, but also about history and their work. What they said didn’t matter. They were like two dogs sniffing and chasing each other. A test of sorts. A trial run.

The few women he’d been with since his separation— accidents, convenience— they didn’t feel like this. The gravitational pull of Hannah threw him off course. She tugged at the very center of him. He knew, and perhaps she did too, that they were on the edge of something great. Something all-encompassing. There would be no going back. But parts of her were wild and unknown. Like a wounded beast hides in the shadows. And so he photographed her, as she walked, as she curled her hair around her finger, as she looked at the city. Moments, seconds, like puzzle pieces that might reveal her heart to him. A hint to give him the courage to step over the edge.

In an hour, they reached the last stop on the trail: the Bunker Hill Monument. They stared at the towering granite obelisk.

“I prefer the ones in Egypt,” Hardy said.

Hannah wanted to climb the 295 steps leading to the top. The view would be worth the effort, but a sign by the door warned people with heart conditions. He stalled.

“What are you afraid of, old man?” Hannah teased.

He bristled at that. He couldn’t tell her about his pacemaker precisely so she wouldn’t overthink the age gap and see him as old and sick.

“I’m not old, I’m experienced.”

She snorted a laugh. “At least you’ve still got all your hair… For now.”

“I’ll show ye, Baxter.”

He opened the door to the obelisk and let her go first under the pretense of chivalry.

A narrow spiral staircase led to the top. Humidity beaded on the cool stone walls. By step 60, they started building up a sweat and gradually shed layers: scarf, coat, jacket, collars were opened.

Over the weeks, Hardy had grown accustomed to the foreign object in his chest, but now his hand flitted to his heart every minute.

“Are you alright?” Hannah inquired, noticing the gesture.

“Fine. Keep going.”

“I need a rest anyway.”

Pity. He gritted his teeth. How could he hope to ever get back in the field if he couldn’t even climb a couple hundred steps. No one would pause for him Syria.

“You’re wearing a suit.” Hannah observed now that he’d removed his windbreaker.

“That bad? I had it for the conference.”

“No, I like it. You made an effort.”

She slid her fingers along his collar to straighten it.

“I almost brought you flowers too,” he said and immediately regretted it— she would think he’s old-fashioned.

“Next time,” she replied with a teasing smile.

That affirmation spurred him on. He resumed climbing before he’d caught his breath. Two steps at a time. Proving a point. His heart raced but at a steady rate. The pacemaker held on.

“295!”

The top of the obelisk was a tight space of gray brick, with only four tiny windows under a high, peak ceiling.

Hardy sagged on the sill of the closest window, and Hannah squeezed next to him. She raked her hair back from her forehead, sending a whiff of floral shampoo his way.

Their panting breaths on the glass fogged the panorama. Hannah drew a smiley face with her fingertip and gave it a little beard. She grinned at him.

The fog faded and they stared at the Charles River and its cable bridge beyond the tiny squares of brown bricks. There were other windows with a different vista, but Hannah was here, honey eyes on the horizon, skin flushed with exertion, warm against his sleeve.

They talked in low, dreamy voices about the highest places they’ve visited: the Petronas towers, a volcano in Hawaii, Lake Titicaca, a rooftop bar in Hong Kong, a suspension bridge in the Alps. Up in the clouds, where humans seem small compared to nature and one’s life inconsequential.

They shared a bottle of water, and only moved when other people arrived.

Hannah begged him to let her take a good photo this time. She meant one over which she had control.

“The light’s rubbish in here.”

“I trust your skills. Just let me fix my face, must be all shiny.” She pulled a pocket mirror out of her purse and dabbed her forehead. “If I’d known you were coming, I’d have washed my hair.”

“Don’t worry, you look great.”

“Really?” she asked coyly.

“You know you do.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t know you agreed.”

“I came all the way here, didn’t I?”

“For my pretty eyes?” She fluttered her eyelashes.

“So, are we ever getting to Fenway Park?” he asked with feigned impatience.

“Knob.”

He’d been called that before, but never this fondly.

Hannah reapplied red lipstick. As she smacked her lips together, she glanced at him over the mirror. A sultry look that roused butterflies in his stomach.

He couldn’t tell whether she was serious or messing with him. She’d been straightforward about sex in Singapore, if she still wanted him, she would simply say so, wouldn’t she?

He raised the camera, and, with practiced ease, she flashed the smile he’d seen many times before on Instagram. He didn’t care for it. After a few poses, she asked him to join her for a selfie and his indulgence stopped there.

“Hungry?” she asked.

“Starving.”

Hannah had a list of trendy restaurants in Boston, and he already dreaded the place she would choose. He scowled when she guided him towards a tiki bar, but the restaurant she wanted was at the back of it.

“Half my job is knowing the coolest restaurants.”

“At least Jeffrey won’t find us here.”

Large garage-style doors opened on a courtyard, ensconced in climbing ivy, where small fireplaces and blankets kept the clients warm. It smelled like Guy Fawkes night and camping, green and smokey.

They arrived past one o’clock, tail end of the lunch rush, so a table was available. They sat at the corner of the table to see through the archway offering a view of the river.

The sun had come out, Hannah traded her scarf and leather jacket for a blanket loosely draped over her arms. She wore a tunic underneath with a wide boat neckline, and he was struck by the desire to cover her neck with kisses.

He pulled himself together while the man-bunned waiter explained today’s specials. Hannah asked the waiter what he recommended, and soon they were talking about the creative process behind the menu and his vision for the future of catering. She was fishing for some quirky details to share on her blog, and it fascinated Hardy, her easy smile, the effect of her charm on other people. And on himself. He was just one of many. She returned her attention to him, and the misgivings evaporated.

“Sorry about that. I’m all yours now. What will you have?”

Wherever he traveled, he ate the food laid out in front of him, pigeon stew or roasted guinea pig, he made do and thanked his hosts, and yet in Western restaurants, he became picky. Here, the menu offered only six meals, each one elaborate. Hannah couldn’t decide between duck arancinis and wild boar noodles, and thus his dilemma was solved; he ordered one of the two so she could taste both. They ended up eating out of each other’s plate, a level of intimacy he hadn’t expected to reach so fast.

The coziness of the setting enveloped him. The excellent food, the laughter. He wished the afternoon would never end, but she had to be back aboard the ship at 4pm.

The ticking clock boosted his courage. He touched the tattoo on her inner wrist, a simple black outline of a star or flower, he couldn’t tell. “What’s the story?” he asked. It was a blatant excuse to touch her, and they both knew it. Keeping his thumb there, stroking the delicate skin, filled him with a heady sort of audacity.

“It was supposed to be a compass. Never pick the cheapest tattoo parlor, it’s cheap for a reason. The bloke got bored halfway through, didn’t even write the cardinal points. I used to add them by hand.” She laughed then lowered her eyes. “My best friend, Erin, she got the same so I never had the heart to have it changed.”

“Erin? Is that your friend who passed away? The one you wanted to travel with.”

“Yeah… I was just thinking about her yesterday, your photos they… stirred things up.”

She looked like she wanted to say more, she stroked her collarbone as her eyes flitted between him and the river. He wanted to take a photo to study later and decipher.

“Anyway, how do you know about that?” she asked.

“I read your blog.”

“All of it?”

“You sent me a link.”

“To one article.”

Her knees rested against his under the table.

“You’re a great writer.”

“Really?” she asked, this time no coyness colored her voice.

He leaned on his elbows, towards her, and told her about the articles he’d preferred. The things he’d learned even about cities where he had been. He didn’t feel as out of his depth now, it was professional almost, except her legs were brushing together and it sent a thrill up his spine.

She had written less in-depth articles in the last year as her followers favored shorter pieces with many pictures, and affiliated links generated revenue. She confessed she missed it, sitting with one person and having a real conversation and then finding the words to convey the moment to her readers.

They ordered deserts, despite feeling full; it was a day for gluttony. She insisted on feeding him a piece of pumpkin pie.

She was a great conversationalist, always a funny quip or an unexpected question. She wanted to know people. Yet, when the tables turned, she used humor and flirting to deflect.

He thought of developing photos in a dark room. She revealed herself slowly, like an image in the tray of developer chemical. But if a photo was left in that chemical too long, it turned black, and so did Hannah eclipse herself if pressed too much. However, it was in Hardy’s nature to persist, to question, to get to the heart of things. Of people.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming to New York?”

“You didn’t tell me you were coming to Boston.”

“Fair enough.”

“Kind of silly, isn’t it? I mean we obviously— I think— wanted to see each other. Right?”

“Yeah.”

Hannah’s hand was so close to his. Her pink fingernails scratched at the buttons on his cuff. He opened his hand: an invitation.

“I’m glad I came here today,” he said.

“But you haven’t seen the Red Sox.”

“I’ve seen everything I wanted to see,” he answered, looking into her eyes.

His hand was still splayed opened, and he waited with a lump in his throat. She looked at him as if assessing his honesty. Finally, she slipped her fingers into his palm, and he closed his hand over them. Hannah smiled and tucked her chin in her shoulder closest to him, as if trying to hide her joy.

“I’m glad you came too,” she admitted in a quiet voice.

Affection overwhelmed him, and he impulsively kissed her forehead.

They ordered cups of tea, and continued holding hands as they drank. Her touch warmed him more than Earl Grey.

Clouds drifted in front of the sun and a cold breeze swept the courtyard. Hannah shivered, and he pulled the blanket higher up her shoulders. She caught his hand so his arm remained around her.

He glanced at her lips, within reach, parting delicately, her half-closed eyelids, and he knew she was going to kiss him.

“I’m not…” he began, compelled to warn her but not sure what about.

“You’re not what?” she asked with an amused lilt.

I’m not good at this. I work too much. I shut myself off to the people I care about. I fucked up my marriage. I can’t give you what you need.

Hannah’s expression turned to one of concern, so he pretended to have forgotten what he wanted to say.

His cell phone rang. “I have to get this, it’s my daughter.” He rose and stepped away from the table. His thoughts were scattered. He took a second to regroup before answering. Daisy was coming to join him in New York in two days, and she had some last-minute questions about packing.

While he talked on the phone, Hannah went to the restroom.

He was a dad. She’d imagined him as this free spirit, roaming the world, hurtling towards danger to save women and orphans. But he was a dad. She didn’t want to be a step-mother. They were ugly or cruel or evil. She wasn’t ready for that. She couldn’t deal with a teenager. No way. And with the ex-wife— no fucking way.

Why was she even thinking about being a step-mother? This thing with Alec, it was just a fling. Would be a fling. Nothing more. Whenever she slept with a man abroad, she made a point never to see him again after. Hardy was no exception. She wouldn’t see him again and certainly never meet his daughter.

An impatient knock on the door startled her. She quickly pulled up her pants, though she couldn’t remember if she’d peed or not.

As she walked back to the courtyard, Hannah observed Alec who was lost in thoughts. Why did his sad eyes make her want to blow him so much?

She could have kissed him hours ago— should have— but she’d enjoyed the slow blooming of it. The way her touch rippled through him. He was so starved for it, he didn’t even know. Yet he held back, and she couldn’t understand why.

“I’m not with her mum anymore,” he said as soon as he saw her. “Divorced. There’s no going back after what happened.”

If she asked what happened he would tell. He would open up to her. She didn’t ask.

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. I just didn’t know you have a daughter.”

“Well, I didn’t mean to keep it from you. Can’t believe I haven’t mentioned her.”

“So you’re a daddy, that’s kind of hot.”

“No.” He inspected her, a wrinkle deepened on his brow. “Did you want to go?”

She was still standing up behind her chair.

Alec paid for both their meals, and then there was nothing to do but leave. She asked him to walk with her to the visitor center where she would catch the shuttle bus back to the ship. She wasn’t ready to part from him yet. The closer they got to the visitor center, the heavier her heart felt. Alec’s eyes were on the ground with serious dimples in his cheeks. She wanted to say something clever and flirty to lighten up the mood.

They rounded a corner and saw the big white charter bus, with Jeffrey standing beside it. They backtracked a little, just out of his sight, under an old-fashioned lamp post.

Once again, they stood face to face on the pavement, without knowing what to say, but for entirely different reasons now.

“I should let you go,” he said even as he stepped forward, closer to her.

Those eyes of his were on her now, wide, almost pleading. He made her feel so warm and soft inside, pliant, in a way she didn’t recognize about herself.

She stepped closer too.

She’d made her desire abundantly clear, twice he’d turned her down now, the ball was in his court.

Hesitantly, he brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered on her jaw, and she could have melted in that touch.

He straightened his shoulders, and she sensed he’d come to a decision.

“I can’t leave without kissing you...”

“Go on, then.”

He laughed at her impatience. A deep breath, and he dipped his head to kiss her. Just a brush of lips at first, enough to send sparks through her blood. The day’s energy finally released. His fingers carded through her hair, her arms wrapped around his waist. The kiss deepened, and she felt it to her toes. People walked around them and leaves twirled in the wind, and they kept kissing. It was a day for gluttony. She gorged herself on every bit of lust, sadness and hope.

Hannah kept her eyes closed and Alec rested his forehead on hers. She felt peaceful and high-strung all at once. She relaxed her fists that were clenched into his jacket.

He sought her mouth again, with more confidence, hands splayed over her ribs, wide and steady.

Engine noises alerted her to the shuttle about to depart. Hand in hand, they walked over to it. In front of the door, he pulled her into a hug.

“I wish I could take you on board,” she whispered against his neck.

“I can be a stowaway, I’ve done it before.”

She chuckled and they kissed again, holding each other close. Jeffrey cleared his throat meaningfully.

“Where are you going next?” Alec asked.

“Portland, Maine. Why? Do you have another mate you can hitch a ride with?”

“I could find one.”

“It’s a date, then.”

Chapter 7: Portland

#Hardy x Hannah #Alec Hardy #Hannah Baxter #teninch fic #Broadchurch #secret diary of a call girl #crossover #travelers AU #lostinfic writes stuff

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relucant · 5 years

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cut for oceans of personal salt in an attempt to not punch a wall (again)

so over the weekend, i drove my mother down to see her sister -- who is very much dying -- for her 80th birthday. which is an incredibly depressing experience for both obvious and less obvious reasons, but it was also obviously the right thing to do, so like, i didn’t want to, but did not resent doing so.

and my back, which is always fucked up but has been more so the past week or so, really did not like driving for three-plus hours twice in three days, and by the time we got home sunday evening had gone completely thrown out, and has pretty much been excruciatingly painful in any position except completely flat on my back since then.

which sucks balls, but it happens, and at least this time it didn’t happen in a hostel in fucking albania where i was then very very nearly fed codeine by an extremely well-intentioned roommate, to which i am very very allergic and would almost definitely and ended up with me in an albanian hospital, so like, there’s that. (almost also was fed codeine in a chilean hospital despite obviously listing my allergies -- or allergy, since it’s my only known one -- and only barely noticed and had to figure out how to say “omg no i am allergic” in spanish which i don’t really speak, which wtf world stop it with the codeine)

except. except. the a/c unit in my room is very old and has been making dying noises for a while, and whenever i am here i have been gently (and, admittedly, increasingly less gently) reminding my mother that it would probably make a lot more sense and be far less expensive to start looking to replace it before it totally dies in the middle of florida summer, and/or starts leaking all over my bed and bedroom, and is suddenly an emergency. but she, of course, is the most useless person on the planet, and will do absolutely nothing about anything ever until and unless i finally snap and have a fucking screaming meltdown like a fucking child, in which case about 5% of the time she’ll put in like three minutes of effort, or at least say she will and then wait until i leave again and then go back to her sudoku puzzles and wine.

(seriously, like, my father is dying of cancer and cirrhosis and has dementia reaching the point that he can’t really be left alone even with two different people coming by twice a day to make sure he and the cat are okay, and she’s one trip-and-fall [in a walking obstacle course of a house] away from going from can’t-walk-without-assistance to in-the-hospital-indefinitely, and it took me years and years and multiple screaming fights for her to finally begin to wrap her head around the concept that maybe we/they should have, i dunno, a fucking lawyer, and some vague sort of plans in place for when one or both of them die and/or can’t live at home anymore, which, well, i guess at least they finally have a lawyer, which i literally had to find for them through friends when i was thousands of miles away, which seems reasonable i guess...)

anyway, yeah, so we finally get home, and -- after discovering that my father had somehow got his hands on the tray of baby catnip seeds i had planted and carefully tucked in a sunny windowsill away from him, and of course, ...dumped them into the fridge. which of course, dementia is not his fault, but dementia has just exacerbated his infuriating need to just get his hands on anything nearby, with no regard as to whether it belongs to him or not, and just mess with it, so of course i was instantly pissed off within minutes of walking in the door --

so i head to my room to do the whole lie flat on my back while make vague pitiful noises thing, and the a/c unit had, of course, suddenly finally begun to leak filthy a/c water all over the inside of my room, and mostly, of course, directly on my bed and pillow, which were completely soaked and disgusting, and the entire room still smells like -- well, like filthy a/c water had been soaking into it for two solid days. fortunately, the a/c still works, more or less, or else i flat-out couldn’t stay here (not that that’d be a bad thing, i guess), but there is now a giant gross paint bucket either hanging precariously from a lamp to catch the nonstop water drip, and which will be terrible if and when the arm of the lamp breaks, or just kind of propped up on my bed which i will almost certainly kick over in my sleep and will be terrible.

and, of course, although this is a three-bedroom house inhabited only by my parents and temporarily me, with a full pull-out couch in the den and a reasonably comfortable couch in the living room, there is absolutely no other place i could sleep. my parents’ bedroom now reeks so badly of my father’s urine and excrement that even the cat won’t go in there, so my mother (quite understandably) will not share a bed with him and so has appropriated my brother’s old room; they are hoarders so i don’t know if i could even reach the couch in the den, let alone clear off the several feet of random junk that’s festered atop it for probably a decade, let alone actually pull it out; and frankly i don’t want to sleep anywhere my father has even sat down like the other couch. so my sleeping option sleeping upside down on my already uncomfortable bed, with no wall or headboard to support a backrest or pillow, trying not to kick over a bucket of dirt-water onto myself in my sleep.

and like, i know it’s my own responsibility to make sure that things that need to happen do in fact happen, because my father obviously can’t and my mother just won’t, and i should have been more proactive about -- well, everything -- but like, i bring up things over and over and over, trying to discuss things like actual fucking adults, and just get a complete blank stone wall every single time, without even a response, even a “yeah, but we can’t do that right now,” just nothing, to the point that i’m like, “...did you hear me? are you there?” and i guess this was just another straw on the camel’s broken back, and went in to talk to her about like, you realize this is now A Problem, right, which -- admittedly after probably too much painkiller vodka since i have no actual painkillers -- i could not stop the flood of anger and resentment and hurt, and said some shit that was true but cruel -- all of which i have said many times before but not cruelly, and so was thoroughly ignored and dismissed every time.

which devolved into me in tears, again, over how unfair, inappropriate, and just plain horrible it is for her to treat me as her emotional support pinata, and the only person in the world she has to vent to and unload on, while categorically refusing to seek any sort of external support in any way shape or form, just knocking on my door drunk as fuck every night shaking with anger and anxiety and literally hiding from my father and just telling me how she feels like she is going to die, with absolutely no understanding or care that what she says and does (and does not do) actually, like, affects me, at all. she has this thing in her head where happiness/misery is like a zero sum game, where as long as she makes sure she is as absolutely miserable as she can possibly be, she somehow like uses up the misery so it’s good for everyone else.

and, of course, her seeing me as her only source of support or outlet to vent is very much a one-way street, because when she’s so wrapped up in her own anxiety and misery, it’s not like she is willing or capable of someone i could go to for anything ever. the few times that i’ve ever been like look i’m dealing with a lot right now, can you just like be there for me a tiny bit, she’s like i’m sorry you know i love you and would do anything for you, but i’m not actually willing to do anything at all so i don’t know what you want me to do or say.

and her manipulative takeaway, of course, was not “you’re right, it’s not fair, i will try to look into more/healthier ways to deal with this and people who can offer me help and support” but instead “you’re right, it’s not fair, i shouldn’t ever vent to you again i just won’t talk to anyone ever about what’s going on.” because of course.

she has a million excuses to avoid going to therapy, which are all bullshit, because she actively refuses to understand that like making an appointment with a therapist is zero percent commitment. no, for the fiftieth time, if you don’t want to get into your childhood trauma, you don’t have to; if you’re not ready or willing to deal with your alcoholism right now, frankly i don’t blame you, and you don’t have to, and i will say exactly those things to her and she will respond with, literally, “well, but i don’t want to get into my childhood trauma and i’m not ready to deal with my alcoholism right now.” great. glad you listen.

she finally agreed that if i found a therapist for her, she would try (again), which i’m totally willing to do, since i have a lot more experience in the mental health/therapy area than she does and i get totally that’s intimidating. but also, we’ve done this before, and she liked the therapist she was briefly seeing, who i connected her to via my own shrink, but despite promising to continue seeing her after i left, absolutely never did again. which, like, okay! her therapist specialized in addiction, so of course the drinking came up frequently; they only met for maybe six weeks, so her therapist was still obviously getting to know her and the drinking is an issue, but not the issue, but also hey, maybe it’s just not a good fit, that’s totally absolutely fine, but also don’t fucking lie to me until i leave the country and then stop going.

and also she was like “well i just spend half the session bitching about your father, so it seems pointless” and i’m like half the fucking point is so you have someone else to bitch to, and in particular someone who may have access to actual resources and things that could help this shitty situation. but, nah, or she could just make sure everything is as bad as possible.

i’m leaving in a week, at least, not super long term (maybe) but get a break from here, see some cats and some beloved friends and some old and new places on the other coast and also some temperatures that aren’t triple digit. and i have friends here that have offered me a bed or couch if and when i need to just not be in this terrible house, and i have no reason to doubt their sincerity at all, but i just hate the version of me that exists here so much that it’s so difficult to believe that anyone would want to be around me when i so very much don’t even want to be around me.

#personal #depression #so much salt #family #tw: dementia #tw: alcohol

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pensurfing · 5 years

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Tearing Down Other Illustrators Does Not Make You A Better Illustrator.

The title says it all. But you’d be surprised how many mutuals I have that just get a sick kick out of “giving critiques that destroy a person’s whole being” simply because “it happened to them”.

[[Jesus where to begin where to begin? Maybe disclaimers? Sure. At some point in the post, it will go from my calm, cool, collected tone to “I will cut a bitch’s throat”. If it hurts your feelings then that means the kitchen is too hot for you (probably because you do said nonsense) and now you gotta leave. Go sit, cool off, and then maybe try again. Probably when you’re a better person.]]

Let’s take it back to school:

In school, I failed at being a girl: mainly because I just failed to do ‘girl code’ things because I questioned it a LOT. Some girl code things make sense mind you, but not all of it. One of the girl codes that I questioned was “why are we being mean to the other girl if she didn’t DO anything and especially if she didn’t do anything to you?” Bam. The new target, me. It wasn’t anything I was ashamed about, I just don’t see the need of tearing someone down because they sit outside of your normal. Basically, the undertone of this experience is this: As a girl, if you made fun of other girls, it somehow magically made you prettier and more desired by your crush.” But you learn in grade school that this is not the case, and you especially learn in high school that this made you “a bitch”. Now fast forward a bit, looking back as an adult what were you supposed to learn from this? Girls pick on other girls usually when whatever little power they have is being challenged. Girls can also pick on other girls simply because they find the other girl pretty as well and this causes yet another inferiority complex. It will usually continue for a while simply because no one wants to question the ‘status quo’.

Why did I bring all of this into play?

As an illustrator, there is such a thing as a genuinely great critique. Great critique states things APPRECIATED about the piece; things that can be better about the piece; and solutions to the piece that the then illustrator can then either use as advice or just take it as the critique it is.

Then there’s just what I will call ‘straight bad-mouthing critique’. Nothing good to say about the piece, the person actually sits there and asks did the artist put eFfOrT into it. Tells them to just ‘draw more’. And some that just ‘rip the art to shreds’. Nothing good or positive. Said person will even go on to just insulting not only the piece but the artist and their character. How did we go from ‘the piece in question’ to just calling the artist a terrible person for attempting to draw a ‘insert whatever it was here’?

I do not give out the perfect critiques. Where someone will see ‘bad anatomy’ I’ll see ‘an attempt at foreshortening, and if they just...’ and I could go on. I see a bright color palette and warm tones in someone’s portfolio, someone else will see it as “you use to similar of colors and you need to get better at setting the mood with color in your pieces.” A difference of opinions is one thing, and it is up to the artist in question to decide which is more helpful. This is a different case and is USUALLY inspiring to create more variety to demonstrate your skills. What I no longer think I can tolerate is just words that do not fit into the situation or critique at hand.

I have examples:

I went to a portfolio review and had my artwork looked at by some professionals in the industry. (More professional than my...attempts... LOL! i’M a pRoFeSsIoNaL.) The main push for this was a couple ‘critiques’ that just weren’t helpful, useful, or even good.

I had five pieces presented to said ‘it’s a coin flip’ critiquers: Designs, Finished pieces, Sketches, WIPs, Roughs, I mean I gave em a LOAD to look at. I sent this to a couple groups where we bounce around ideas and I have left them all and have not regretted a single moment of it. Out of the three I sent them to, two straight up ignored them. (I’m used to my artwork being ignored by my peers at this point. I haven’t gotten any feedback whatsoever to where now I just assume they do not like my art style and just choose to not say anything because it’ll come out wrong.) One group only made the comment that not only rubbed the wrong way but in a way took down a community(?) “It looks furry erotica. Only they would like this.” ((Paraphrasing, but only slightly. The tone towards furries was something I was not ignoring.)) Do not use furies as some group to be looked down upon. And if they’ll like it then dammit I’m printing it. I’m an equal opportunity money grabber here babe.

“Hey Cait, her leg looks a bit short.” “Hey Cait, the colors here are awkward.” anything along these lines that actually were wrong with the piece could have helped.

I don’t draw NSFW stuff (I should at this point. It’ll be my step before becoming a stripper.) But no other comment besides that per se doesn’t help encourage or fix what could possibly be wrong. I’ve had a share of bad critiques, but this one was just useless. I stopped showing my pieces in WIPs and rough stages because I just genuinely didn’t get good feedback EVER. It came off as: Caitlin your ideas are slipping, they suck... Caitlin this is just another black girl, what’s your deal? Well damn sway, sorry my black ass drawing black ass art is bothering you. I almost was sick of it.

Now here is the portfolio review time by pros:

I go to it thinking “I’m just going to get my portfolio reviewed. No way am I good enough to stand in line for the job fair(s) going on.” So I got my reviews, the results? “Hey, I see you really enjoy backgrounds and telling stories with your finished pieces. Why don’t you draw more interiors so that way it cohesively harmonizes together better? It does great now, but you’d do pretty well adding more interiors.” “Wow, your linework is so crisp. Have you tried this technique? You have with recent pieces, great! Lets network.” “Your color choices are breathtaking. Here’s a tiny corner where your craftsmanship failed a bit, try buffing up this corner a bit.”

Good critiques, useful stuff! I was so pumped you know what I did? Went to the job fair half. My results? I have piles of individual business cards and personal. My professional network grew. (I guess I should log in and add things to Linkedin huh?) and I got a single big toe wet. (Not a foot in the door, not feet wet, just that one toe. But hey, ripples start waves. And as a surfer, you just gotta wait for the perfect wave ok?)

I hadn’t gotten a good critique since college. In college, I will commend my professor for teaching this: How to give a good critique. Did some of my colleagues forget how to do this step? Yes. Do some forget that it isn’t their piece of concept and you can’t make someone DO anything? You bet. But it’s just a shame how with mutuals it’s “Caitlin your art isn’t great and is too black.” versus the reviews and studios that gave me the thumbs up and said, “call me later, otherwise I’m calling you later.”

Now do I think there is a slow “status quo” complex going on in my mutuals because now I’m no longer the sucky drawer? Yes and that’s a new rant for a different post. Does tearing down my artwork help theirs get better? Hell nah fam. They don’t even practice what they preach.

I said all of this to say: I can’t stand people in ANY group of friends, art group, a community who does this. I can not. What do you benefit? Did your house get bigger? Is your butt bigger? Are you prettier? Is your artwork studio quality? Did a pile of money just land in your lap?

No. It never works that way.

I started this habit to test out my theory and only one friend has caught on; that one still has my respect. After getting a bs critique, I’ll always ask how a person is doing and they’ll go on about how their day-to-day isn’t as good as usual. The one friend that caught on and I quote: “Woah Cait, I’m sorry. I took my frustration on you, let me look at this on another day when I’m in a better mood.” And guess what? She did. Gave a USEFUL critique and we moved forward.

Sometimes if you're not in the mood to critique DO NOT DO IT.

I repeat:

If you are in a bitchy mood, do not destroy someone because your life sucks and you wanna take a massive shit on someone else. Doing so isn’t going to fix whatever is wrong in your world. It isn’t going to give you a large sum of money and isn’t going to make you a better illustrator. Do not take the phrase “tearing down the ‘competition’ so literally.

“Caitlin, are you sure you’re just bad at getting critique?”

Nah. I’m bad at taking BS critique and pointless comments anymore and said critiquers themselves are just upset that I’m no longer being a doormat for whatever is wrong in their life. Other illustrators feel the same way too.

“Caitlin, why do you look for critiques and get mad at people who don’t give good ones?”

Anyone in any field can acknowledge the fact that when you stare at something too long, you start to blur the object in question together. Is it finished, are there major flaws? A simple solution is just getting a fresh set of eyes to look it over. In any aspect of life: choices you made, something you’re prepping to cook, a document you’re writing, and guess what? A piece someone is drawing. It is a prosaic and even instinctual action to share and express ourselves with others for a response. Look at all the billionaires who invented social media.

We as a community need to start treating each other better. And when someone asks for a critique, follow these instructions that were on so many damn elementary school walls but cleARLY we need these put somewhere again.

Be better dolls. Be good and make good choices. This is the last text post I’m writing today.

TRD: There are some people who still don’t think before they speak and I see it too often in my own life too. So I’m saying something about it. A reminder for something you learned in grade school: Being mean to other girls won’t make you prettier just like tearing down other illustrators and their artwork won’t make you a better illustrator.

#art rant #rant #critique #art community #Illustration #pensurfing #personal rant don't mind me #hungry and irritated

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eerythingisshaka · 6 years

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Some Weeks Are Better Than Others Pt. 1

(So That’s All You, Huh?)

Part 2 *Part 3*

M’Baku x Reader

Word Count : 3.6K

Warnings: Rudeness, couple of curse words, snippets of smut

Plot: You and M’Baku have to be apart for a business trip you are taking. Leaving him sucks for you both, but career is important and he supports. But the trip is a lot more than a test of your value to your job, but to your relationship as well.

Beep Beep Beep.

Your alarm has a jarring sound that jerks you from your sweet slumber. Blurry eyed, you reach forward push your home button to silence it. Arm hanging over the side of the bed, you lay with your eyes closed just for a moment but you know that is too much temptation that could cost you getting to work on time. The oil diffuser purrs in the background as it pumps lemongrass and peppermint in the air, your favorite combo. You feel his arm come around, hand resting on your belly to pull you back against him. M’Baku growls lazily playing sleep.

“Mm-mm. You need to turn me loose, now. I have laid long enough.” You say, only half convincingly.

M’Baku smacks his lips exaggeratedly, “You haven’t taken a sick day from that place all year, you can call it today if you wanted.”

Holding his hand on your tummy, you argue, “First of all, I am still trying to make a good impression. Second of all, I have to catch a flight today. Did you forget this was my business trip week?”

He groans out loud, “Are you joking? When did you tell me about this?”

You turn, laying on your back, counting on your fingers, “I told you when I was first offered the opportunity a month ago, I told you every week before now, and last night.”

M’Baku props himself up on his arm looking down at you, “That’s not fair, I don’t remember any talk last night, are you sure?”

You sigh, “Yes, I am. Between the netflix, the wine, I told you. Then you started getting sad, quoting Titanic and kissing my neck, and after that if you forgot, well then I am insulted.”

He gives you that awesome chortle of his, “No, my darling, I remember that quite well. I was just hoping I’d wake up and the week would be over already. I don’t know what I’d do with myself.” His eyes twinkle a little as he says this, you feel his sadness heavily as you hold his face.

“I feel the same way and then some. But this will help get me a good track record within the company, leading up to a promotion, raise, all of that. I don’t want to be under someone’s thumb forever. Once I can lead my own way without oversight, I’ll be so good. It starts with this.”

He takes your hand and kisses the palm of it, groaning against it his bass tickles you, “I always admired your work ethic. Your strength is my motivation to go on, along with your beauty.” He looks down your body, snaking his hand from your knee, up your thigh, then gently caressing your tummy, “What time do you leave?”

You take a deep breath, controlling the pulse of your center. Turning towards him, you pick the sleep out of his eyes. “My flight is at 11am. I have about 5 hours to get ready, double check my packing, and make my way…” your voice says huskily as it trails off as your eyes travel with your hands over his sturdy shoulders, sheen with his natural oils.

M’Baku tucks his lips, mounting over you on cue with surprisingly acrobatic fashion, “I can work with that, my doll. If your schedule permits?”

You snatch your bonnet off, heat getting too overwhelming, “Mm, you ain’t said nothing but a word, M’Bop.”

You always get yourself in a position of not having packed enough in advanced. Everyday , you tried to set aside a couple outfits, narrow down your shoe choices, put your travel toiletries in the bag and STILL you forget things, and change your mind on others. You sniff the air, smells like breakfast is about done and just in time as you were as well. You put your tote over your shoulder, roll your bag out and drag it down the steps, one clunk at a time. You hear thudding footsteps coming towards you, as he rounds the corner up the stairs.

“(Y/N), why are you putting more stress on yourself? Why didn’t you call your man, huh?” M’Baku kisses your cheek as he picks up the bag like it’s a disobedient child, over his shoulder and effortlessly downstairs.

You smile to yourself, thanking him. “I won’t be able to call on you to help me once I’m there, so I might as well get used to it.”

M’Baku at the stove, he plates the veggie omelettes, “You will not get used to that. This is a temporary business thing, so don’t get comfortable with this single independence. You still have a man at home waiting for you, understand?” He coos, setting the plates down on the table spread of toast, butter and jam, fresh fruit, orange juice for him, apple for you. He pulls the seat out for you, pecking your neck gently as you sit before making his way to his side to sit. A mix of excitement and sadness overcomes you as you think about how compassionate your partner is. This isn’t the first meal he has cooked for you by far, but he had time to clock your box AND cook before your trip? He is too good, beyond words.

You pick up your fork, taking a couple bites, “Mm, I know I won’t get this good of food on the road. What you gonna do while I’m gone?”

He takes a deep breath as he chews as big as his jaw is able without actually opening his mouth. “I might have some of the guys over sometime. Redecorate maybe. Bring back my bear rug for old times sake.”

You clink your fork down, folding your hands in front of your face, “I told you to toss that thing out, M’Baku. And the other Jabari better not be up in here to mess up my couch, touch my food, and you are cleaning the guest bathroom when all is said and done. Go over their house with all that!” You say with an annoyed wave of your hand.

“My, my, my love. Has travel plans got you on edge?” He reaches his hand over, you lay yours in it; warm and rough, but gentle in pressure as he rubs the back of yours. “My people know how to respect my home. You saw them in their own habitat, of course they are foolish then. But don’t worry about our abode, it will remain in tact. Unlike my heart, that is aching at the thought of you leaving. No amount of company could fill that void, I just hoped it would serve as an adequate distraction.”

Your face falls with his in that moment. Getting up, you walk over to him and sit onto his tempurpedic thighs. Caressing his beard, you study his face. His big brown eyes that pull you in like Narcissus, he looks at you heavy lidded. “I have half a mind to keep accepting these trips if it gives me this much favor from my man.” you say in jest.

He squeezes your sides, causing you to fold over in ticklish agony, “You know what happens when you provoke a Jabari, huh? I won’t hold back, and I’ll be forced to put down my staff to remind you what you need to come back home for.”

Between giggles you say, “Your staff, huh? Is that what we’re calling it now, M’Bop? It’s just as much mine as it is yours now, I won’t be intimidated.” He gives a belly laugh as he rests against your bosom, holding your bottom and thighs while you clutch his head under your chin.

“Your heartbeat is my favorite lullaby.” He moans into your chest.

M’Baku is a towering man in height and stature, but he is a kitten when it comes to you.

You get a notification bell on your phone, indicating your ride is waiting. M’Baku lets out a whine that sounds like chewbacca.

“It's time baby, let me up,” You give him a pat on his back as he slowly unravels from around you. You head out the door as he carries your bag, loading it into the backseat.

“You seem heavily packed for a few days by the way.” He looks at your curiously, tucking his hands in his pockets.

“I need options M’Bop. Plus that's just plenty more laundry for you to do for me when I'm back. I know you looove it.” you say teasingly, getting in his face.

“You think you have me domesticated, that's adorable. Let me find out you're spreading these lies in the streets, you won't handle my fury.” He warns, wagging a finger at you.

You playfully whack it away, reaching around his neck. He grabs around your waist, holding you tightly against him. You looked from his bright, round eyes to his smooth, beckoning lips. Controlled by an invisible force, you both lean towards each other until your mouths are intertwined. Soon as M’baku begins to open his mouth against yours, his hands gravitate toward your ass, slowly squeezing…

HONK HONK

The driver has gotten impatient with waiting or sick of the PDA. You don't blame them either way. You still have to snap M’Baku out of it as he continues to lean with his lips puckered, like a Looney tunes cartoon. Opening the door for you, you step inside as he leans on the door over you.

“Call when you've landed and settled. Work hard though; don't let me be a distraction.”

“I will, love. Leaving me with that kiss, all I'll be thinking about is you.”

M’Baku smiles broadly, “and so it should be. No goodbyes, just know I will see you soon.”

“See you soon. Love you, M’Bop.”

“All my love, (Y/N).”

The driver pulls off as you look back at M’Baku, waving, slowly getting tinier and out of sight. You turn away and start to look for your headphones to listen to a podcast, anything to keep the tears from spilling out of your eyes. It's only a week, stop acting silly, you gas yourself.

“Woooowee! So that's all you, huh?”

You look at the rearview mirror at the driver. She had to be bout 50 sum, has large gold hoops with words in the middle that you can't make out, a red trucker hat that says “America was never great”, smacking on some gum.

You say a little shyly, “Yeah, that's all me alright.”

“Oooh, GIRL! I would burn the midnight oil for him in the middle of the afternoon, I tell you! What’s his name? I’m sorry if I’m being nosy.”

She sure the hell was, “No biggie. M’Baku is his name.”

“Aw nah, girl. You got you a African?? I'm surprised he ain't wheel you out in a chair. Honey no wonder he looking better than fresh baked manna from heaven. You been with him a while?”

She worst than your aunties when they first met him, “Yeah a little over three years.”

“Good, hold tight to that. You know how many ladies I pick up and they man is watching them while they load up? And they had waaaay more stuff than you got there. Gentlemen are hard to find, and in an exotic negro, THAT fine?? Biiiitch, excuse my language, i don't mean you, but biiiiitch, I wouldn't be driving right now if that was at my house.”

You laugh at her antics, co-signing with the usual sister-to-sister phrases. It was a good distraction to draw you out of your funk for the week ahead -- at least for now.

Finally, you arrive to the airport, checking your bag, and popping a seat that was miraculous to find in the crowded waiting area. Headphones in to drown out the tired toddlers that are weighing down their parent’s patience, you look through your social feeds. A notification pops up, it’s him.

You open up the message, it’s a picture of the kitchen and underneath it says, ‘I don’t appreciate the amount of dishes you left me to clean up after you :P’

You cover your face, laughing to yourself. This guy, you think. Texting back, you tell him, ‘Thank you, love. It was delicious. I promise I’ll make it up to you later ;) ’

Then you get the call that it is time to board. Your phone goes off again and it says, ‘Well I hope I will get a preview later…….’

You stop there, biting your lip. You guys have never done anything long distance before, maybe a little electronic play could happen between you all. You decide to leave him on read; sure you were busy boarding, but also, you want him to be real ready to hear from you again later.

The flight was only a couple hours, but it was dreadful. The babies would not quit crying, the flight attendant skipped you for a drink order, and the person next to you could NOT stop getting up for the bathroom to save their life. When the plane began descending, it was an answer to your prayers.

Heading to baggage claim, you check your phone, more out of habit than anything, nothing new, but a change in the song playing in your earbuds. You wanted to wait until you were in your hotel room before you texted him that you made it. Standing by the conveyor belt, you watch all the bags loop around; more added, some taken, until the bags become more scarce and the crowd around you is almost dispersed completely.

Suddenly you feel a sense of dread, you walk, not seeing any more bags being added through the drop-down. This can’t be it, you think. You were standing there the whole time, how could you miss it?

There are some bags in the middle of the floor, but none of them are yours. You look around for the customer service area, when all of a sudden, you see it. Some woman has it, walking away with her family that has one of them screaming babies. Your heartbeat is hella elevated, but you try to keep a cool script in your head as you jog over to her.

“Ma’am…..Ma’am!” you yell.

The woman has her phone to her ear, yelling at her child to stop running and stay with her until her father comes. You tap her on her shoulder, making the woman spin with a speed you almost missed if you blinked.

“The hell you want?!” She says with all due disrespect.

“Sorry, but my b-”

“Nah, mom I ain’t talking to you. This little girl tryna say somthin to me.”

Little girl? You think to yourself, but letting it slide as to not waste time, you continue, “You have my b-”

“Mama, I know, but she don’t look like a sex pimp or nothin. I wouldn’t get caught up in that I ain’t dumb, ‘specially with my baby with me.” She looks down and around her, “KAYLA!”

Then you feel the sensation of little hands on the backs of your knees. You look behind to see her child giggling at her mom trying to hide.

You step over to reveal her. “Are you trying to take my baby?! Mama, imma call you back, this girl finna get it.”

As she hangs up you take the open opportunity, “Sis, I don’t want your daughter! That bag you have is mine!”

“I’m giving you 2 seconds to step away from my girl. Kayla get over here NOW!” The girl runs back in her mother’s direction, not necessarily to her.

You look up taking a deep breath, but the amount of calm left in you is draining fast, “She came over to me! I didn’t even mess with her! But ma’am, the bag! That’s not yours!”

She takes a step toward you, leaning with her hands in prayer position, “And now you tryna steal MY shit! You got fucking nerve, thinking you cute up here, walking up on me and my child, the fuck--”

Suddenly a male voice enters the mix. “What’s going on here, Shay?”

You assume this is her man lookin like a Tyler Perry extra but unfortunately his wack braids aren’t a wig. But at this point you don’t give a fuck cuz she still has your damn bag.

“Man, she got my bag, but she keeps getting stuck on other shit that we ain’t even able to rectify this!”

“Don’t talk to him like you brazy, bitch!” She shrieks.

This sent you over. Clapping, “WHO YOU CALLIN CRAZY, you need to control your light skinned ass attitude and your bad ass baby and run me my bag back!”

“Ok, but I got my man here with me if you wanna try it. Where the fuck yours, ugly ass--”

“Aye aye AYE! Aight now! Airport fights ain’t what’s hot in here. Shay, come on, we don’t need another strike. You almost made the no-fly. And that ain’t your damn bag.”

She looked down at it like she snapped out a trance. She looked at you with anger then at him, “Then where the hell my damn bag, Carl! You got the damn things!”

“There it is Mommy!” Kayla smarter than her own damn mother.

Shay looks up at you as she walks past, barely missing brushing you, which is all you would’ve needed to steal on her, but Jesus makes a way.

Kayla has ran back to Carl, who picks her up, “Sorry…” he starts to say before Shay bellows, “COME GET THIS BAG CARL!”

He purses his mouth to trot over to Shay. A wave of relief covers you as the stress from the scene dissipates. You grab the handle of your bag and make way to the exit, hailing your cab, and praying this isn’t an omen for the entirety of your trip.

Pulling up to the hotel, you unload, thankful for a non-communicative cabbie this time. Making your way up the steps to the hotel, you are greeted.

“Welcome! Are you checking in today?” The perky blonde behind the counter quipped.

“I have a room for the leader’s conference this week, my name is (Y/N).”

She looks at the computer screen, tapping away at the keys. “Hmm, I don’t see it…”

You look at her blankly. No way you have come all this way, with the day you had, and not have a room.

She continues to tap, asking you to spell your name. As you do, she finds it, “Ah! Thanks, sorry about that. Ethnic names always give me a rough time.” She laughs way too hard at that, and you don’t offer her anything in response.

“Do you have my key?” You say deadpan.

The blonde, oblivious to your discontent, hands it to you. “Yes, sweetie, here you go! And enjoy your stay!” She says it with a neck roll on the last set of words that gave you complete racial indigestion. You roll your eyes and walk on up, thinking about how far you have made it, and how bad you just want a bath.

Getting in your room, you lay the bag down and swan dive onto the bed. Your body pulsates with pain in your back, feet and head: the unholy trinity. In the peace and tranquility of your room, you were ready to fall asleep there, but you felt disgusting so you drug yourself off the bed to the bathroom to start the shower up.

Disrobing, you step into the shower, feeling the cool water cover your body. Summer has not been a kind season so far with the humidity wreaking havoc on you and your hair follicles, so the streams hitting your body made for a great escape from the world. It sent a shiver down you, making you arch with pleasure into the sensation. Each droplet massages the aches in your back, making your scalp tingle involuntarily. Turning around you angle the head, letting the streams beat against your lower region, almost bidet style.

A tongue runs down your back, as if your soaked copper skin were melted chocolate, stopping right before the crack of your ass. Two broad hands find either side of your hips, thumbs massaging the small of your back. He spreads your cheeks apart, smacking one side. The wetness of your backside from the shower gives a stereo effect in the shower, causing the sound to reverberate. You gasp, biting down on your lips to keep peaceful. A growling voice commands your attention. “Now, you better hold still, or you won’t get clean properly…” he demands of you, his loyal subject. Ok, you say barely above a whisper. “What was that? Speak up, girl! Closed lips can never be fed...” He said in a villainous tone, teasing you with possibility. I said that’s fi--, you start but nothing but unintelligible gurgles come from you as his tongue find your sweet spot. Even his nose tickles you as he buries face beautiful face deep between your crevice, gripping your sides to keep you from arching away like a frightened cat. Fuck! I’m going to cum all over you if you don’t stop, shit! He stands up at the warning, “Well doll, that’s the plan, right? But just so you know, we aren’t done, until I say,” he growls as he massages your breasts from behind, rubbing his length against your folds causes a jolt through your body with every brush against your clitoris. You are a bundle of electric passion on the verge of combustion, but not one to turn down a challenge. Well bring your fat ass on then… you say through gritted teeth. He guffaws right before inching in...

You hands gripped the walls as the thought fell into your mind. You hadn’t texted M’Baku yet and it was a little later than you anticipated getting back. That fat ass would make for a great comfort to you but a FaceTime will have to do. You step out, toweling down and wrapping a robe around you. You sit on the bed, grabbing your phone up, and going to his name. It rings, and rings, which is odd because you thought he would be nipping at the bit to get in touch with you by now. You get a text then, ‘Hang on. I’ll call you right back’

Part 2

Since I do fanfics about as often as a humpback whale procreates, sorry if you’re wondering who the hell this is tagging, but you guys asked for it! And hopefully those I missed will find this

Tags: @sweetpeachjones @hairhattedghooligan @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade @groovybbyyy

Other Works:

King Kil’mawalls

N’Jadaka’s Helpful Hands

T’akia

Commencement Day

#m'baku #m'baku x reader #black panther fanfic #fanfic #m'baku fanfic #mbaku #m'baku x you #mbaku x you #mbaku reader

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makeste · 6 years

Text

KHR 065: Motivational Tomatoes

Before we get back to the action, this chapter featured the first-ever character poll results, and do you know who got first place?

That’s right! This is the one and only time he will ever make it into the top two, let alone beat out his beloved boss (and it wasn’t even close). The rest of the character poll results are here, for anyone who enjoys these things and feels validated (like I do) when other people also like their fave.

Moving on to the chapter!

I can’t believe Gokudera fucking died right when he was voted the most popular character in Japan.

THIS WAS A COMEDY MANGA

Honestly, it’s fascinating to see Tsuna freeze up in a situation like this. I think it might be the only time it ever happens? Before this arc, he had never been in a situation this bad. And after this arc… well, we all know he’s a bit of a changed man after this arc.

But for right now, he’s useless! At least he doesn’t just straight up abandon Gokudera, though.

This would be a great time for a really handsome fellow to make a flashy entrance.

I honestly don’t know how this smiling idiot never made it to #1 on any of the polls. Criminally underappreciated. Who do I have to fight to get him the respect he deserves.

On a side note, Tsuna’s expression when Yamamoto is going “WHE-W” is legendary. It’s such a perfect “Ohmygod what just happened… am I dead??!” look. No, Tsuna, you’re alive! You were saved by this fucking guy who’s got the best timing since the fucking T-rex at the end of the first Jurassic Park.

I can’t really blame the school, given that half its student body is currently laid out missing all their teeth. If anything they should have been closed to begin with.

Those girls from the previous chapter are just walking all over the damn town complaining about this fight. Bless you, girls.

I freaking love how Yamamoto hears “kid in a fight” and immediately thinks, “Gokudera.”

NOOOO MY LITTLE BOY [PETS HIS HEAD] [CALLS 911] [CALLS SOCIAL SERVICES] [ADOPTS!!] [KNITS HIM A WEASLEY FAMILY SWEATER!!!]

DAMN IT LOOK AT HIM JUST LYING THERE QUIETLY WITH HIS WRIST ALL FLOPPY AND HIS HAIR IN FRONT OF HIS EYES FUCK ME

Fortunately, Yamamoto knows how to express this exact same mood, but with like 1000x more aggression.

I’m not sure when exactly I started shipping 8059, but I do know that if I wasn’t already, after this panel I was all aboard that ship ready to never set foot on dry land ever again.

Also, Yamamoto is so fucking awesome Jesus Christ.

WHICH MAKES IT SO MUCH BETTER!!!

Also, later on in this chapter there’s a scene where Yamamoto cheerfully refers to it as “the mafia role-play” yet again, but you are kidding yourself if you think there’s any chance that this little murder butterfly, freshly emerged from his natural born hitman cocoon, actually believes it’s a game after this scene. GOKUDERA DYING IS NOT SPECIAL EFFECTS. I 100% believe he’s only playing along because it’s simpler that way.

Look at this idiot. Word of advice: if Yamamoto ever looks at you with that sort of expression, YOU FUCKING RUN and don’t look back. Better yet, don’t hurt his boyfriend in the first place and it won’t come to this.

ARE YOU WETTING YOUR PANTS YET CHIKUSA??

HE’S SO ANGRY sob I’m living for it so much! Also, of COURSE he’s number two on the list. Of course he is. Second only to Hibari. At least Fuuta fucking appreciates how amazing he is.

Let’s be real, he just knew Yamamoto was ready to kick his ass from here to ten years in the future.

SAVE HIM OH MY GOD!!!

CUT TO NAMIMORI JUNIOR HIGH

This makes me wish we could have gotten some sort of really tense, Godfather-esque hospital fight scene at some point in the series. I would have enjoyed that.

Anyhow, interesting that they have no problem sending the characters to the hospital in later arcs, even when it’s arguably just as dangerous (most notably during the Inheritance Arc, when someone had obviously tried to kill Yamamoto, and was still out there). So clearly, Gokudera only gets sent to the school in this instance so Shamal can be there to remind us all how useless he is. Even though he does save Gokudera’s life by treating the poison. I GUESS.

That’s going to go over real well.

Gokudera’s life in a nutshell.

I freaking love how Bianchi is constantly trying to pick a fight with Yamamoto Takeshi, the world’s nicest human. I like to think it’s because she already knows he’s going to marry her brother one day.

Yamamoto’s Chopper-esque deer-in-headlights look needs to be framed and put on my wall.

“Did you think we were done with the angst?” Amano asks, a sadistic gleam in her eye.

I was actually praying that we weren’t! And my prayers were answered.

YES TSUNA, BEAT YOURSELF UP OVER IT. LET THAT GUILT FLOW THROUGH YOU. LORD PLEASE LET NO ONE COME AND RUIN THIS WONDERFULLY ANGSTY MOMENT.

WHY CAN WE NEVER HAVE NICE THINGS IN THIS MANGA

Is he a lizard? Is he a caterpillar? Where did he come from? Why does he exist?

These are things we don’t question. Just accept and move on.

WE REALLY COULD HAVE USED YOUR HELP WHEN GOKUDERA WAS FUCKING DYING

“The most terrible of mafia criminals”, oh and also, later on, a bunch of (mostly) innocent kids whose ancestors once casually made a deadly and irresponsible bet. (I say ‘mostly’ because Kaoru was guilty of ATTEMPTED MURDER. NEVER FORGET.)

This is officially the first mention of the Vindice, though. Sure would be hilarious if these guys ended up being the final villains or something wild like that.

Yes, of course they’re the same person. Why would Reborn randomly be telling you about two completely unrelated Rokudo Mukuros?

OF COURSE THEY’RE IN THE MAFIA. WHERE ELSE WOULD KAKIPI BE HAILING FROM. THE INTERNATIONAL YO-YO FEDERATION? YOU REALLY THINK THE IYYF HAS IT IN FOR NAMIMORI STUDENTS FOR SOME REASON

Nah it still counts as mafia.

Hey, it’s Mukuro! What an elegant transition.

[INSERT NEYMAR JOKE]

Mukuro goes on to act really callous here, but take note of that “!” bubble above his head when Chikusa flops to the ground. Is he just surprised, or is could it possibly be… concern????? I honestly don’t know, so let’s just say it’s both, with him then proceeding to go all-in on the show of amused apathy right afterwards to hide it.

Oh yeah and he’s also excited because Chikusa’s finally gotten them a lead.

Were you seriously going to eat your friend why are you guys such shitheads in this arc.

I guess… he’s got a lot of faith in Chikusa, at least? Man, compared to this, Gokudera suddenly seems amazingly well off, even with his lack of a hospital, his doctor that doesn’t treat men, and his sister who’s more likely to kill him than cure him.

Reborn, please talk some sense into this spiraling young man who needs to be dragged into his leadership role of destiny by force if need be!

In all fairness, he doesn’t know he’s going to be a fucking superhero by the end of the day.

At any rate, Reborn is not the only one who thinks it’s finally Tsuna’s moment to shine!

I would kill to see one of these reports from Reborn to the Ninth. Tell me someone has written a fic about them. I’m obsessed with this.

Twelve hours?? Geez no pressure.

100 YEARS WORTH OF TOMATOES.

Tsuna. Now you gotta.

Now you really gotta.

Haha. The Ninth is sitting there at his desk like, “What should I say to motivate him? How about tomatoes? Everyone likes tomatoes. But just in case, I’ll also threaten to kill him if he says no.”

As we all know, at this stage of his development, Tsuna is fucking great under pressure, so he immediately pretends he hasn’t heard anything, screams that it has nothing to do with him, and runs off in a panic.

Which is actually exactly what he needs to do to end up getting a reality check!

NO IT’S NOT

This is exactly why Reborn is the tutor and the Ninth is just the old guy with money. “Rather than seducing him with tomatoes, I’ll just remind him that no matter what, he can’t escape this shit anyway, and if he sits around and does nothing he’s fucking screwed.”

Like, it sounds cruel, but it’s exactly what he needs to hear. Along with this.

Things I love:

Reborn’s complete faith that deep down, Tsuna already knows the right thing to do.

Reborn understanding that there’s a layer of fear/panic/anxiety that he has to cut through in order to get to that essential core of Tsuna. (I mean, that’s the very concept of the Dying Will bullet right there.)

Reborn knowing exactly what to say to activate that inner strength.

Tsuna’s scared-but-resolved face when he thinks about Ryohei and Kyoko and Gokudera.

The fact that Kusakabe is included in the montage (s-sob).

One day I will write an essay about how I believe that this single sentence sums up Reborn’s entire endgame for Tsuna in a nutshell. And when I say “endgame”, I mean endgame endgame. As in BOSS endgame.

Seriously, he’s known from the start that this is what propels Tsuna. Not fame or power. Not even “purer” abstract concepts like ~the greater good~ or ~doing the right thing~. It has to be personal; it has to be his friends, his family, someone that he cares about. Because he is thirteen, and still self-centered, and so right now, something like this is the only thing that can break through that layer of teenage apathy and reluctance. The threat has to be real and close and tangible, and it has to be personal.

And even later on, when he’s matured a bit more and is saving the future and junk, this is still the key motivator. Tsuna has so much potential to be a force for good and light and hope in the world. But if you want him to be a damn hero, you have to give him someone to save.

OR JUST GIVE HIM TOMATOES

Look at the gritted teeth. It’s working.

This is Tsuna’s equivalent of that Yamamoto rage face earlier in this chapter. Look how different it is. I love this about Tsuna.

HIBARI WASN’T ACTUALLY THE MAIN CHARACTER, THOUGH

Reborn! Tell him!

MOSTLY DEAD IS SLIGHTLY ALIVE!!!!

Half an hour after being killed, Gokudera returns good as new! Reading this chapter for the first time, ten-years-ago makeste breathes a sigh of relief that her favorite character isn’t going to get left out just when the series is finally having a real fucking arc. We got our angst and the happy ending too! BOOM, did it, had it both ways no regrets.

[INSERT MONTY PYTHON REFERENCE]

YAAAAAAY

YOU KNOW FULL WELL IT’S NOT

AND MY AXE

AND JUST LIKE THAT HE’S FUCKING DEAD AGAIN

This may just be the greatest sequence of entrances in history.

Back when they had so few fighting characters that they needed to toss in Bianchi as a fourth. Those were the days.

You shall be the Fellowship of the Rings… wait, no, that’s next arc.

I don’t know why we needed a fucking roadmap to understand this plan of “we’re going to their hideout”, but okay.

OHO, INTRIGUE

It’s Fuuta!

That’s right, friends! In addition to Hibari Kyoya, Mukuro has also kidnapped an eight-year-old. He’s so evil!

…But redemption is coming for you, you pineapple-shaped kufufuing motherfucker. Just you wait.

#khr #katekyo hitman reborn #yay old chapter #sawada tsunayoshi #gokudera hayato #yamamoto takeshi #bianchi #reborn #rokudo mukuro #I'll save you the trouble of skipping ahead to the end of this arc which is chapter 81 #in the end #despite doing everything the ninth asked of him #tsuna does not in fact ever get those tomatoes

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octerminal · 6 years

Note

how do you think ramona's class/background influences her relationship with kaidan?

Oh, anon…you have NO idea the monster you have just unleashed, lmao. I’m so sorry in advance.

I have thought a lot about this! It’s one of my favorite things to think about! Because I think it influences a lot! My Shepard is Earthborn/Sole Survivor/Infiltrator.

Let me start with the one that I’m still puzzling out myself, which is Sole Survivor. On the one hand, I do like Sole Survivor. On the other hand, I think BW dropped the ball with them. And to a degree I understand why, because there’s only so many variances they can account for without getting the story sidetracked. But, like, here’s the thing: Akuze was orchestrated by Cerberus. That’s a thing you find out in ME1. So ME2 for SoSu Shep in particular has to be fairly…upsetting, to say the least. This is both a strength and a weakness. A strength because it makes ME2 that much more interesting, but a weakness because the game only acknowledges this, like, twice. First with Tela Vasir in LotSB, and then in ME3 during the Cronos mission. Every other time is swept under the rug, and Shepard’s made to defend Cerberus or, at best, softly condemn them. A lot of “They used to do good work, but…” or “I never saw this coming because they used to do good work, but…” and it’s just frankly sloppy because there’s no believable reason for me to think SoSu Shep would ever think that way. Cerberus is personal for her in a way it isn’t for War Hero or Ruthless.

So now add in Horizon and its aftermath. Horizon is by far one of my favorite parts of the trilogy. But…if Cerberus is personal for SoSu Shep in a way it isn’t for War Hero or Ruthless, so is Horizon. Shepard is alone in ME2 in a way she never is in the other games; she might have people by the end of the game, but it doesn’t start out that way. She’s trapped and she knows it. Yeah, she gets Garrus early on (the only one in the beginning that she can immediately trust to not be in Cerberus’ pocket since she has prior dealings with him), but Garrus has his own demons in ME2, and anyway, he’s only one person versus an entire ship full of Cerberus. Even the ship itself is Cerberus. So enter Kaidan on Horizon, and mix in a Shepard who’s feeling cornered and wants out of Cerberus’ grip but who’s been alienated from every other available avenue that could help her fight the Collectors, and you get…well, You Know.

My Shepard in particular is not very emotionally open or honest - like, for example, the first time she finally tells Kaidan she loves him is at the beam run, despite knowing she’s felt that way since Horizon. (This, and the fact she’s renegade leaning in general, have to do with her Earthborn background but I’ll get to that part later.) The idea of being vulnerable in that capacity with someone is terrifying to her, but on Horizon? I have her specifically ask Kaidan to join her. She’s desperate and she needs someone like him, and so she extends herself in a way she never would normally…and Kaidan rejects her in no uncertain terms, lol. He questions her alliance with Cerberus, pokes holes in all the defenses she tells herself to make herself feel better. (“I’m not working for them, they’re just giving me resources!”) He tells her that she’s changed (a sore spot, given her own insecurity over Lazarus)* and then…leaves. Like, ouch. I’m of the opinion that Horizon - including the confrontation with the VS - was orchestrated and intentional, and TIM’s desired outcome** so that Shepard would be pushed further into Cerberus and further alienated from the Alliance (because the VS would be their closest ties to it at this point in the series), and I think that’s something my Shepard recognizes, too. But that doesn’t mean it hurts any less, particularly when you consider that again: she’s alone, she’s desperate, and she made herself vulnerable in a way she never would normally.

But at the same time, if Kaidan had agreed to join her…she would have been extremely suspicious, lol. Like, that’s not the Kaidan she knows! A dude willing to abandon his post and work for a terrorist organization just because she’s supposedly leading this particular cell? Nah. If Shepard had been in Kaidan’s shoes, she’d have reacted the exact same way. She knows that too. But it’s still a complicated situation and I don’t think it’s sufficiently addressed in canon because the SoSu element makes everything so much messier. For comparison, while Horizon hurts my War Hero (Shiara) and Ruthless (femShepley) Shepards because they care about the VS (particularly my Ruthless one, obviously), it’s not the same. They have no prior trauma because of Cerberus; the extent of their interactions with them would just be the ME1 missions. In those cases, Cerberus is just another enemy to tackle. It’s not personal. Political, maybe. But not personal.

So yes, I absolutely think that Sole Survivor and Kaidan would have to handle Horizon and its aftermath in a different way than what’s presented in canon. Not, like, dramatically so or anything…I just think it’d take different words or more talks or something, but I just don’t know what yet and that’s the problem. It’s enough to where I’ve considered dumping the Sole Survivor background because it’s frustrating trying to think of solutions, but altering that would change a lot about my Shepard that I’m not willing to part with. Like, Sha'ira’s gift of words sum up how I view her perfectly:

“I see your skin, tough as the scales of any turian. Unyielding. A wall between you and everyone else. But it protects you, makes you strong. That strength is what kept you alive when everyone else around you was dying. You alone survived. You will continue to survive.”

But if I changed that to Ruthless (the BG I’ve considered switching her to), it would instead be:

“I see your skin, tough as the scales of any turian. Unyielding. A wall between you and everyone else. But it protects you, makes you strong. You never hid your strength, either. It serves you well. Terrifies your foes. Few will dare to stand against you.”

And…that’s just not her. And yeah, I could disregard this - it’s such a tiny part of the series that’s never touched upon again - but the EB/SoSu combo validated every image I had of my Shepard when I created her, so I’m very attached to it and determined to make it work, lol. Like I said, it’s the part about her and her relationship with Kaidan I’m still figuring out the most.

So what about the other parts of her background? Let me do the Earthborn portion next because I already know that’s going to be very long. I have put a lot of thought into Kaidan’s family, his parents, and his upbringing…not all of it is to relevant to your question though, so I’ll try to restrain myself lol.

So it’s never outright stated as much in canon, but I’m under the (very fair, imo) impression Kaidan’s family is fucking loaded. Here’s what we know about them:

They have an apartment in English Bay (ME3)

They own an orchard that makes wine in the B.C. Interior (ME1, ME3)

Kaidan owns a strip of land on the Sunshine Coast (ME3) (it’s unclear to me though whether this is either of the above, or something different)

Kaidan has a cousin who owns an agriculture business (ME1) (This one doesn’t necessarily point to Kaidan’s family being wealthy, although it does seem to imply they have ties to agriculture?)

Kaidan’s father is former military and he retired before the First Contact War (ME1, ME3) (Again, doesn’t necessarily point to wealth)

I’m not Canadian, let alone a Vancouverite, but I do have a friend from that area (and also, like, Google exists) and it’s my understanding that…English Bay is a very ritzy area. Like, I looked up real estate and a lot of the price results were in the millions. Considering that Mass Effect takes place in the future and Vancouver has only become even more of a metropolis (I believe it’s canon that it’s merged with Seattle to form a mega-city?)…I find it hard to believe that those prices haven’t risen even more than they already are now.

So if Kaidan’s family can afford an apartment in an area that expensive, uh, they can’t be hurting for money. Then factor in the other stuff I listed. Making wine? Owning an orchard to make said wine? To be honest, just the fact they’re able to afford at least two different properties*** is enough for me to think they’re fairly well off, especially when there’s this from the codex:

“While every human enjoys longer and better life than ever, the gap between rich and poor widens daily.”

Like, this isn’t some utopian age for humanity. Poverty still exists, and it’s clearly just as bad if not worse than it is currently. So that’s to say: it’s kinda two extremes with an exceedingly rare middle ground. Kaidan’s family very clearly does not fall on the less fortunate side if they have an apartment with an ocean view and make wine in their spare time.

Okay, I promise there was a point to all that. The point being that Earthborn Shepard comes from the exact opposite spectrum. She grew up in extreme poverty with…nothing, not even a family. She’s seen the worst humanity has to offer long before Cerberus shows up in her life. She’s seen - lived - the ugly parts about Earth the Alliance doesn’t like to broadcast. She’s had to do things that would frankly offend Kaidan’s “sometimes the way a thing goes down does matter” ideal, because things like integrity have no place in your life when you have nothing and no one and you’re fighting just to survive to the next day when no one but yourself cares about you seeing it. And that’s a way she had to live her life for eighteen years - it’s not something she can just shut off, particularly not when the skills she learned living that way are what helped her survive Akuze. (Remember Sha'ira’s words?)

These are things Kaidan can’t truly relate to, not even in his capacity as a biotic who’s apart of a society who doesn’t understand him at best and hates him at worst. Because there’s a difference between Kaidan’s situation, and being so much of a faceless nobody that it wouldn’t even be news if you went missing. Kaidan has a family, and one that presumably loves him. He has money. He’s never had to fight to survive in the way Earthborn Shepard has, not even if you HC that his time between BAaT and joining the Alliance took him away from his parents and their wealth (which I do). These are also things that shape a person so completely, to ignore them would be to ignore what made this person into who they are today.

(I do, however, think Kaidan can sympathize because of his unique position in society and because he regularly puts himself in another’s shoes, anyway.)

Earthborn Shepard isn’t still living in poverty by the time the trilogy comes around. She’s actually made a name for herself - which in and of itself has to be very confusing for her, because I envision Earthborn Shepard as someone who suffers constantly from imposter syndrome - and she has funding. A lot of it. Like, an exorbitant amount. Shepard has to spend so much money throughout the trilogy if she wants better equipment for herself and her crew (and even for her ship) which is kind of a necessity if you want to, you know, survive and be competent and stuff.

I think she reconciles all of this with the fact that yeah, this is necessary, she’s not being frivolous - but there’s always going to be a part of herself that feels guilty, because that’s just something that’s beaten into you when you grow up that way. Spending money feels bad.**** There might be moments she doesn’t care. There might be times where, in the moment, it feels good. But at some point, however fleeting, there’s always going to be that guilt. These aren’t feelings that are easy to get over, even if you objectively know they’re irrational.

Contrast this with Kaidan. I see Kaidan as someone who is considerate and not particularly wasteful. (That doesn’t stop me from making jokes, though.) I also see him as someone who is not interested in spending his parents’ money and would rather depend on himself alone, so if he’s spending money it’s out of his own paychecks that he gets as an Alliance marine. (This scene from Crazy Rich Asians is pretty much exactly how I envision Kaidan on this subject.) All of this is to say that I don’t see him dropping thousands of credits on every new toy he wants with no second thoughts (and I do think he’d pause at big price tags, particularly because I feel like living extravagantly is something the Alliance would discourage)…but the fact remains is that he does have that safety net and he always has. He’s never truly had to worry about being homeless, and if he’s had to worry about starving it’s because he’s a biotic, not because he doesn’t have the money to support himself.

There are also other behaviors that would be borne from growing up in poverty, like Earthborn Shepard being unwilling to part with old equipment until she absolutely has to (the Alliance makes being a hoarder rather difficult) because what if she needs it later? What if she can get some more use out of it somehow? Yeah it’s broken but it’s hers, she still needs it, go away. Kaidan would hang onto certain things (omni-tools, amps, weapon mods) longer than most people would too, but it’s because he’s a tinkerer and likes tech stuff.***** My Shepard is too, but it’s more than that and it’s that “more” that’s different.

When it comes to this difference in their socieo-economic class, I don’t think it’s something that’s particularly noticed or brought up during the trilogy. The only times I can think of where Shepard might get the realization Kaidan is different from her in this regard is in the Pinnacle Station DLC if Shepard win’s Ahern’s bet and gets his apartment on Intai'sei, or during the Citadel DLC. But even then, I feel it would a very brief realization she pushes to the side because it’s frankly not important right now and they have more important things to worry about. Like, you know, Reapers. So I think this is something that would only come to a head post-war, but it is definitely a source of tension on her end that they would need to tackle at some point.

Otherwise…remember how I said the reason my Shepard is renegade leaning and emotionally closed off is because she’s Earthborn? Let me bring back Sha'ira’s words:

“I see your skin, tough as the scales of any turian. Unyielding. A wall between you and everyone else. But it protects you, makes you strong.”

This is what she says specifically to Earthborn Shepards. Colonists and Spacers get something different. And really, this is how I see Earthborn Shepard. She’s someone who’s had to survive things - not a singular great tragedy, but a lifetime of hardship - and she’s someone who’s never had a support network. She’s the way she is because she’s never known any different. She’s not renegade leaning and emotionally closed off because she thinks it’s badass; she’s renegade leaning and emotionally closed off because being any different would have gotten her killed before now. I think this is a very, very important distinction Kaidan has to realize to make their relationship work, because otherwise I do think Kaidan would have a hard time being in a (successful and long-term, anyway) relationship with renegade leaning Shepards. Integrity and stuff like that is too important to him; if he feels like Shepard follows no moral code and is unabashedly selfish, why would he want to associate with them more than he has to? I can’t see him wanting to.

It is a very hard and long process for my Shepard to learn that it’s okay for her to be vulnerable sometimes. This is the greatest source of conflict within how I play Kaidan’s romance. Shepard is unyielding and only gives Kaidan’s scraps - remember how I said she doesn’t tell him she loves him until the beam run? Yeah, Kaidan doesn’t deserve that. No one deserves to be strung along in a relationship where they’re the only ones putting themselves out there, but that’s what Kaidan does for a lot of the trilogy. I don’t play it that way because I think it’s romantic or because I think Shepard is in the right; I play it that way because I like the idea of someone learning that it’s okay to be loved and to love in return, particularly when they don’t feel like they are lovable. But like I said, it’s a long process, and the only reason her and Kaidan’s relationship doesn’t burn out and die is because Kaidan consistently puts himself out there so that she doesn’t have to. This is why it’s important to me that Shepard’s the one to propose post-war, because I feel like it’s only fair she put herself out there that way for a change.

(For the record, I don’t think Kaidan takes all of this lying down. I know he has no way out when it comes to Shepard, and it’s for that reason I think he’s willing to put up with a lot more than he knows he should, but he still knows that…well, no, he doesn’t deserve this and that Shepard has to do better. He has to become really adept in Shepard-speak by the end of the game, and I think that helps a lot - he knows Shepard is trying and that she loves him even if she doesn’t say it, it’s just…messy. But it’s definitely something they talk about post-war, along with the socio-economic stuff.)

So now how do their game classes interact? Well, because so much of Shepard’s experiences are a mystery to Kaidan, I wanted Shepard to be on that end for once. Yeah, Shepard’s lived through things Kaidan has never had to - but likewise, Kaidan has lived through things Shepard has never had to. She’ll never understand what it’s like to be a biotic and just what, exactly, that means. I feel like Earthborn Shepards in particular would be exposed to a lot of anti-biotic sentiment growing up since they’re, well, Earthborn, and I think a lot of negative post-spaceflight sentiments (alien xenophobia, biotic discrimination, etc) would be concentrated on Earth because it’s the homeworld and they’re the least exposed to the rest of the galaxy.

But anyway, to get back on topic. L2 biotics build up static electricity. That means that it’s likely that if you touch them, you’ll get an electric shock. Imagine having to be conscious of that fact, and having to be constantly aware of your surroundings so you can unload that built up static electricity into something inanimate so you don’t accidentally shock someone. Little things like that are something someone who’s nonbiotic would never think about. Then there would be Kaidan’s post-mission regimen. He literally has a port on the back of his scalp that’s connected to his brain, or at least near it. He has to keep that clean, and you fight some really gross things throughout the trilogy. Thorian creepers? All that gunk? He has to be careful that his port never gets contaminated in a way nonbiotic Shepard never has to, because like…your omni-tool getting gunked up is way different than a port that’s literally inside of your head getting gunked up. (I also imagine this area in general is a sensitive area for biotics, like, not the kind of place they like anyone casually touching.) These are all things that would be frankly alien to someone who’s not a biotic. As an N7, I think Shepard would’ve worked with more biotics than the average marine like pre-Normandy Ashley and pre-Fehl Prime James, but she’s still not a biotic herself and has a lot of learning to do.

(I have several moments I consider landmarks in their relationship, and I think one of them is in ME3 when Kaidan is completely fine - comfortable, even - with Shepard touching anywhere near his port, when he wasn’t in ME1. It’s a massive sign of trust for him that’s not lost on her.)

None of this is even getting into the social treatment of biotics, either. This is something Shepard has to figure out for herself, which I think she does in ME1 with the Rahna story and stuff. Kaidan’s the way he is because he’s a biotic; you can’t separate that fact from him. You take away Kaidan’s biotics and you take away a lot of who he is as a person and why he’s that way. (…She probably can relate to that sentiment, though.)

They do have to have some things in common though. I don’t like the idea of them only bothering to talk to each other because they think the other is attractive and then it forms into something deeper, lmao. So that’s (part of) why my Shepard is an infiltrator******. Both she and Kaidan are unabashed tech geeks. You know how in ME3 if you bring Kaidan along to Tali’s mission, they have that argument about omni-tools? Yeah, my Shep and Kaidan have talks like that all the time about, like, everything tech related. They’ve also had the omni-tool talk because her preferred one is Savant, which he thinks is pretentious because I love the idea of Savant tech being seen as The Snob Tech of the industry because it’s so expensive and its users frequently insufferable. But I HC it’s the only omni-tool that can handle an infiltrator’s needs without overheating, including running the tactical cloak.

So that’s the common thread that gets them started between all the differences and the bad first impressions (she is renegade leaning, after all). I don’t think the way I play Kaidan’s romance is particularly popular, but that’s fine with me. I like a little conflict. I like the idea of two people not being inherently or instantly compatible, and having to work to form an understanding of one another. I like the idea of their relationship being something that they have to work for and keep working for, because while they love each other, sometimes love isn’t enough. You need communication, too. And that’s what I like, so that’s how I play them. (And also because I like angst - to a degree - and mutual pining, of which I think there would be A LOT of when you play Kaidan’s romance this way.) Obviously after a certain point things do become easier simply because they’ve been around each other long enough to develop a banter (”I’ve been thinking…” / “Oh, no. Okay. Hit me with it.”) and a better understanding of how the other person thinks. But you still need communication and I’m not interested in things ever being “easy” just because they’re so in love and that magically cures everything.

This was very, very long, and I know I apologized in the beginning but I’d like to do so again. You just managed to ask the exact question that I have put a lot of thought into and it was very hard for me to resist going full word vomit, lmao. Thank you very much for the ask!

(Also addendum, it’s so weird hearing her referred to as “Ramona”…I know that’s what I have down on my character page but I actually haven’t settled on a name for her yet despite her existing for like, almost 3 years at this point. Naming Shepard is singularly one of the hardest parts of Shepard-building for me, I don’t know why?! So for reference, Ramona and my “ch: nadia shepard” tag are the same character. Who knows if I end up sticking with either, but they are what they are for now lol. Also, you had absolutely no way of knowing this, I know. I actually assume no one reads my character pages, ever, so this ask is a welcome surprise!)

*This is another big thing with my Shepard, but it’s only tangentially related to Kaidan so I didn’t bother bringing it up in the main post. But particularly since she has the renegade scars? Oh, yeah. “Maybe I’m just an advanced VI that thinks it’s Commander Shepard” is putting how she feels about herself post-Lazarus mildly.

**I have a giant meta post that’s been sitting in my drafts since April about exactly this. Like, about Horizon and its aftermath and how it was allowed to happen to start with, and how the VS is uniquely and repeatedly manipulated against Shepard as a means to hurt them. I should really finish that post, because damn, I love Horizon.

***Specifically on Earth; owning land on colony worlds probably isn’t as much of an indicator of wealth

****To be fair, I think in ME2 this is alleviated somewhat because it’s TIM’s dime and spending his money on useless shit is one of the only way she can rebel without showing all her cards

*****I read a HC once that said because Kaidan’s an L2, it’s probably a lot harder for him to find L2-compatible biotic amps, so I can see him being very protective and hoard-y when it comes to his amps

******Also, sniper rifles. It’s offensive to me as a lesbian that femShep has twig arms when those sniper rifles weigh A TON; there is no way her biceps wouldn’t be out of this world. It’s doubly offensive when you consider the fact Kaidan’s buffer than she is despite being a Sentinel. (I ignore this and pretend it doesn’t exist, much like a lot of Kaidan’s ME3 appearance.)

#replies #ch: nadia shepard #*#long post for ts

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taronfanfic · 6 years

Text

ABER

Masterlist

Chapter 4

I could get used to this. The freedom, the lack of responsibilities, just doing what I want, when I want… Do you know how many places in New York claim to do the world’s best cup of coffee? Too many is the answer. I’m sat in one of those places now, giving my feet a rest from this morning’s site seeing. No one needs to hear about the view from the Empire State Building but I’ll sum it up in one word for you: Lonely. The prices on the way in were a bit of a giveaway: Family, Couple or Groups. Nah, just me thanks. I went, I saw, I didn’t bother with the t-shirt. Maybe the generic tourist stuff isn’t what this trip is going to be all about for me…

I tell you what was good though – dinner last night. As soon as David said it was on him I knew exactly where I wanted to go. Riverpark. Fancy as fuck but totally worth it just for the view over East River alone. He said he wanted to wine and dine me and that’s exactly what happened. He’s been saying a lot of things in the past 48 hours actually… We’ve reminisced a lot. We’ve joked a lot. We’ve in a roundabout way covered my recent dating history or lack thereof. That was a fun one… For a while I was… hesitant? Confused? Dubious? Uncertain? (all of the above) about his genuine intentions for this trip, but last night he not so subtly revealed his true game. Let me explain.

Phase 1: Subtly drop hints about me being in his bed before the end of the week with an added over the top wink so he could play it off as a joke if everything backfired.

Phase 2: Insist on me staying in his bed. No wink this time. Cocky.

Phase 3: “I’ve never known anyone turn down a cosy spooning opportunity.” Followed by innocent promises of his offer being just a spoon and nothing more. Yeah yeah, I believe you.

So with his plan slowly unravelling before my eyes was I brave enough to resist his invitations? Well after a couple of bottles of expensive wine and a few extra drinks in the hotel bar last night, to put it simply: no. I went and climbed right in didn’t I! Now here is where things get awkward. I’m likening this to when you don’t hear what someone’s said to you and you ask them to repeat themselves. You have a maximum of 3 chances to understand what the hell they’re on about before you have to smile, nod, and pretend you knew exactly what they said. Asking them to say it a fourth time is just weird. So picture this…

I’m the pyjama wearing little spoon, comfy as anything after a brilliant evening, enjoying the physical closeness and warmth of having another human fitting perfectly in behind me. I’m smiling to myself thinking he was right all along, this is nice, it is innocent and pure and god I’ve missed the feeling of being held by someone. But then David forgot to tell his penis that he wasn’t invited to our private spooning party and he popped up trying to join the fun. What a dick!

So here’s where things get awkward. I know David’s aroused. He sure as hell knows he’s aroused. He also knows that I know because there’s no mistaking that his cock is pressed firmly against my arse!! So now the countdown begins. Either I get up and return to my sofa immediately, or wait for him to make a move before politely rejecting him and then returning to my sofa. Simple. Except neither of us moved. Fair play to him, he was sticking to his word. Just spooning, nothing more. Self-restraint is an impressive quality to have. So now it was on me to wriggle out from his grip and say goodnight. That was all I had to do, but why oh why was I failing to move a single part of my body. The longer I lay there the more it looked like I wanted something else to happen. But my naïve wine-fuelled-brain picked that exact moment to drop the bombshell thought into the front of my mind:

So this is what he really meant when he said he wanted some company whilst traveling.

Why he’s chosen me is anyone’s guess. People like me don’t sleep with people like David and that’s just a fact. He’s a 10 and I’m a 4 on a very rare good day. We are worlds apart and it’s sheer coincidence and luck that I even know him in the first place. So after an awkwardly long time spent being spooned by him and his not so little or subtle friend, I finally got my shit together and shuffled across to the edge of the bed, mumbling a ‘sleep well’ as I stumbled back to my sofa in the dark and worked out what to do next.

I decided I was going to play it cool and act like nothing had happened. Neither of us mentioned it this morning and somehow things weren’t awkward either. Result? Fuck knows, but what I do know is that he won’t be getting any of that anytime soon. Not because I don’t want to, girls would kill to have the opportunity to climb him like a tree and ride on his branch. He’s fit and I’d just be disappointing so I’ve got to prove a point. I never came on this trip with that in mind, it wasn’t even close to being on the cards as a possibility! So if he’s made it his mission, probably thinking I’m an easy target, I’m going to play the long game and make him work for it!

BADQ x

***

“Don’t get too comfy, we’re going out in a bit.” Taron started to tidy up the room service plates and move them out into the corridor.

“What? I was planning on chilling out tonight, reading some of my book, watching a few episodes of Game of Thrones or something.”

“It’s a last minute invite that’s come through and I can’t really turn it down. The director for the film I auditioned for this morning is hosting it so if I can get in with him then it should up my chances of getting the role.” Taron started to look through the wardrobe and pulled out a crisp white shirt.

“Ahh, schmoozing time! I’m gonna leave you to it, but good luck.” You lowered yourself down to a more comfortable position on the bed and picked up your book.

“The bar is only down the road, so I was hoping you’d come with me. It won’t be a late one.” He placed his shirt and black suit trousers down on the end of the bed as you watched from over your book.

“But I don’t have anything to wear.”

“Yeah, yeah. That’s what all women say to try and get out of going to things.” He turned back to the wardrobe and pulled out the pale pink dress you’d brought, holding it out to the side as he gave you his best puppy dog eyes. “Please come with me.”

“Urgh! You don’t give up do you?”

“Not when I want something, no.” He smiled back as he handed your dress over to you and pulled his tshirt off over his head.

“I’m going to have to talk to people too, aren’t I?” You sighed, really not feeling in the sociable mood.

“Yes, but it’ll be the same old small talk questions for most of the night. How long have you known me, how do you like New York, what do you do, what are your plans…”

“My favourite!” Your sarcastic tone drew a concerned look from Taron as he sat down on the side of the bed.

“Is it really that bad? I thought you wanted to experience this side of things too?”

“Yeah, but I’m not going to have good answers for those kind of questions. Especially now I don’t even have a job!”

“Don’t worry about that, you’ll probably never see any of these people again so it really doesn’t matter what you say… you could make it all up and they’re not gonna know are they!?”

“I suppose.” You shrugged your shoulders back to him, still not sold on the idea.

“You could be… an author working on your first novel… a journalist?... a blogger! You are technically a blogger now so that wouldn’t even be a lie! You’ll be absolutely fine and I’ll be by your side doing 99% of the talking anyway. Please, Y/N.” His hand was resting on your lower leg, his eyes locked to yours, his chest temptingly bare. You hadn’t come on this trip to sit in hotel rooms doing exactly what you’d be doing at home, so why were you trying to refuse another great offer from Taron?

“Is it a free bar?”

“Yes.” He laughed softly. “I should have just told you that from the start, shouldn’t I?”

“Makes all the difference.” You smiled as you sat up and picked up your dress.

@egerton-sweetie @amanda-tallmadge @lizziespidiepridie @leanimal90 @anantheminmyheart22 @aynsleywalker @bohemianrhapsody86 @manners-maketh-taron @butterfliesslugswormsandothershi

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