#not my best work by far but i hope it's at least enjoyable

[the-greatest-8]

Obi-wan has had visions before, even when he was in the creche. It was a simple fact by now. Master Yoda had even offered comfort before, after a particularly difficult one. Obi-wan was well aware the risk of reading too far into them- because that simply wasn't how they worked. 'Always in motion, the future is.' Obi-wan knew this.

However- Obi-wan had one vision, one, that he hoped so desperately would become true. It always started the same, he would feel so light, so free- It was a comfort he has clung to in his darkest moments. He would be in bed, warm, and content. He would hear the sound of rustling next to him, before arms would wrap around him. Obi-wan always remembers how he sinks into, how he'd fall back asleep. That's how the vision always ends. It was never enough- not enough information.

Obi-wan wanted so deeply to know how to make that vision real. He knew it wasn't proper; He was just a man though, he tried so hard to follow all the rules- but oh, how he wanted. That feeling never left, even during the war he was in now. If anything, it made him wish even more, for a warmth to keep him grounded around all the deaths. Around all the sorrow after battle, Obi-wan just wanted to feel safe, like in the vision.

It wasn't often, he wouldn't mope, not when he was needed at his best. It was moments like this, however, when the desires in him felt suffocating. The last mission him and his men went on was successful, very successful. Morale was high, and so a stop into town to celebrate was made.

Obi-wan had been corralled into joining, as had Cody. It was enjoyable, even, he drank plenty with his men as they all laughed and told stories. Obi-wan was even sporting a buzz, he was happy, he had realized. Here, with his men, next to his loyal Commander. It made him pause for a second, surprised. Cody, vigilant as ever, took notice and sent him a look, feeling questioning in the force.

Obi-wan smiled at Cody, "I'm fine, Commander, I simply was surprised at something." Obi-wan said exasperatedly. Cody hummed, "If you don't mind me asking General, what was it?" He asked, and sipped his drink. Obi-wan huffed, "I just realized I'm enjoying myself, that's all my dear." He says. Cody smiled then, a soft expression that momentarily made Obi-wans heart flutter.

"I'm glad, sir, we've all noticed you've been tense." Cody said, his worry in the Force being replaced with a soothed, content feeling- and the gentle flames of fondness. Obi-wan almost stuttered, his face flushing slightly. Obi-wan felt warm, his heart raced while he worked on keeping his face straight.

The Force was entirely unhelpful, almost mockingly it made him more aware of how soothing Cody feels to him. Obi-wan decided then he was far to sober for this, and ordered another drink. He doesn't remember a single thing after.

Obi-wan awoke feeling warm, and content, surprisingly without a hangover too. He must have filtered his blood through the force before bed, he thinks distantly. He was sleepy, not entirely certain what woke him, so he just let himself feel. He was floating in soft feelings, he felt light and free, his troubles seemed all the more distant. Obi-wan doesn't remember feeling like this, not in a long while at least. Obi-wan hears rustling next to him, and before he can panic about another person in his bed, strong arms wrap around him and pull him close. "Go back to sleep, General.." a half asleep Cody mutters, before he fully succumbs to his rest once more. Obi-wan pauses, his heart thudding in his chest, and face ablaze.

Obi-wan decides this is a dilemma for future Obi-wan, and sinks into the embrace. He fleetingly thinks about his vision, but is unable to put more thought into it as he drifts off once more. A smile on his lips.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Authors note-

Honestly I'm not sure I'm happy with this one. Maybe I'll try again later, but I had to write my idea down or I wouldn't be able to to remember it lol. Hope you like it 😊.

#writing #writing ideas #writing inspiration #star wars #cody x obi wan #obi wan x cody #codywan #commander cody #obi wan star wars #obi wan kenobi #star wars tcw #star wars the clone wars #fanfic #fanfic idea #fanfiction #fluffy #they have feelings #Obi-wan: This is something for future me to worry about #hes a mess your honor #but hes codys mess

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

Ok so here's the fairy tale meta thing based off a lie that I was talking about.

In Dead Apple, there's a flashback scene at Bar Lupin where Dazai explains the concept of apple suicide to Oda, while a track called "Dear Prince" plays in the background. There's a brief mix-up where Oda confuses the story of Snow White for Cinderella - but when I first came up with this, I misremembered what he said (I mixed up... his mix-up...) and thought the line was about Sleeping Beauty.

And I'm so unreasonably annoyed by this because that would've made so much more contextual sense. Why? Because they both involve an awakening. Moreover, there's a few interesting details in the environment of the older tales (I will not be using the Disney versions as the Dead Apple motifs actually connect better with the originals and also because I have never actually seen them... embarrassingly enough) that translate quite nicely to aspects of Dazai's life and bonds.

Specifically, there are some loose parallels to be found with Odasaku and the story of Sleeping Beauty, and Chuuya and the story of Snow White. (Note that this is not intended to be shipping fuel or anything; interpret it however you like, I'm just drawing connections.)

And yeah, I know this is an entire half-baked meta formed around a line that doesn't even exist but please just give it a chance or at least humour me please please please please please

Alright let's get the Cinderella thing out of the way first since I want to at least address it.

Cinderella has its origins in the old Greek story of Rhodopis, which sets up the main aspects of the story we know now: a servant girl from a poor background ascends to royalty through marrying a prince, who searches for her after finding her missing shoe. This doesn't really bear any resemblance to the rest of the movie or any other ongoing themes... unless you want to suggest that maybe Dazai's jumping from one side to the other was something akin to a "shoe-test"; that he was looking for a perfect fit. I think that's quite a stretch though and it's likely this really was just a throwaway line meant to show us Oda's occasional uh... airheadedness. If anyone has any further thoughts on this, I'd love to hear them.

It's a shame, really, because the slip up could've been given more significance and also because as an analyst of sorts it is my sworn duty to pull meaning out of absolutely nothing so I guess I took another step further here and made up my own line to analyze in stupidly excessive detail.

The entire point of this was meant to show how both the stories of Sleeping Beauty and Snow White have a theme of awakening, and so do Dazai's bonds with both Odasaku and Chuuya - they both have a function of "waking him up" in a sense. However, the means of doing so manifest very differently.

So, let's talk about Sleeping Beauty.

Sleeping Beauty has its origins in an old Italian story called Sun, Moon and Talia, which has many of the elements we know today but was uh. A lot darker. And way more non-consensual. The version the more modern story takes its roots from is Perrault's version. Here are the important bits to this analysis: the princess pricks her finger on a spindle out of curiosity, the good fairy puts everyone in the castle to sleep along with her for 100 years so that she will not be alone when she wakes, the prince does not wake her with a kiss but instead she wakes just by his presence and they sit and talk for a long, long time.

So, on to my delusional parallels. Part one: the princess pricks her finger out of curiosity. See, for Dead Apple, we have to rethink this a bit because Dazai brings up the concept of apple suicide, not murder. Of course, this is a parallel to himself and his disregard for his own life, so here we can take it that he did not "prick his finger" out of mere curiosity, but also, likely out of a desire to "sleep".

It's hard for me not to draw a connection between the curiosity aspect of the finger prick and Dazai's curiosity to join the mafia, especially with the next part - where everyone falls asleep as well for the time the princess is asleep. Essentially, no one will age or die. For as long as the princess remains unconscious, the world will not change. And if the princess perhaps, wanted this, then we can infer what is likely a fear of being left. Maybe even a fear of living. Dazai joined the mafia because he was curious if it would have what he sought. Instead, he spent his days trapped in an "oxidizing dream" as he detached further and further both from his humanity and from others. The mafia is already a place where people don't talk to each other openly and we know Dazai was even more unknowable than that - if he doesn't care about himself or others, the dream goes on. He stays asleep, and if he doesn't care, then he doesn't lose anyone - no one truly "dies".

As for the last part, there isn't much to say. Dazai warms up to Odasaku because the man just talks to him. And likes talking to him. And doesn't tell him to stop when he's being really freaking weird. But notably, Odasaku doesn't do much at first to help Dazai "awaken". It's only when he's about to die in his fight against Gide that he realizes he regrets not saying something sooner. Odasaku only has one chance to wake Dazai before he dies and he does it by shattering that dream that he will find what he's looking for. Paradoxically, that hope Dazai held onto was what trapped him in that singular mindset. Oda dies shortly after and the illusion is broken. Dazai wakes up, his world kickstarts where it had previously been stagnant and Dazai greets the sun and tries to live.

See why I'm slightly annoyed this wasn't the line now?

But hey, while we're at it, let's also talk about Snow White because the Dead Apple movie was actually a lot more firm with its connections than I think people realize.

Firstly, I would love people to know that in the original Grimms' fairy tale, Snow White doesn't clean the dwarves' house but in fact burgles it, eating their food, drinking their wine and falling asleep in one of their beds after testing each one, and generally leaving the house in complete disarray. Yeah. Not related to my point at all, but this sounds an awful lot like something Dazai would do (but more out of mischief than naivete of course).

Here's the important part though: Did you know that the Queen attempted to have Snow White killed not just once, but three times? The first two times, the dwarves were the ones to save her and quite quickly - they made a deal after she broke into their house that she would fix it up for them and maintain it in exchange for her staying with them in safety. It's an agreement of sorts, but as they became fond of her, they try and save her life in earnest. The poisoned apple is actually the third attempt to kill her, where the Queen bites into the white, non-poisoned part of the apple and Snow White, thinking it safe, eats the red half and falls asleep.

Hey. Remember the colour of the pill Dazai took in Dead Apple?

Yeah, someone on that team knows the original fairy tale.

Interestingly (and this is where I got really excited), there are three different attempts to kill Snow White (or, if Dazai is to be believed, three different attempts at her own self-destruction) - and there are three different instances where Chuuya "wakes" Dazai, twice while they're partnered (when they have an "agreement", terms in a sense as partners), and once in Dead Apple.

The first is in Fifteen, the infamous scene where Dazai shoots the body and Chuuya snaps him out of it by wrenching the gun out of his hands. I'm honestly a bit too tired to go super into that scene right now but I'm doing a little bit on it later - all that needs to be acknowledged here is that Dazai was out of it and Chuuya forced him back to earth. The second occurs during the Dragon's Head Conflict when Dazai is completely insensitive to the death of a mafia executive and Chuuya decks him for it. The now-infamous line "no one would believe that" is often misinterpreted I think. Chuuya says this in response to Dazai's "I'm human, too, you know." He's not saying "you're not human", he's saying "you are human but no one would believe that with the kind of shit you're saying and doing". It's the same kind of sentiment in the first scene where Chuuya intervenes, I believe. And it is a form of waking, in that Chuuya snaps Dazai out of his more inhumane moments - he basically calls him out and forces him to reevaluate; the epitome of a rude awakening.

Now for the Dead Apple scene proper.

Firstly, let's establish something. They are no longer partners in the mafia. They are even on separate sides. The framing of this changes Chuuya's actions from working with Dazai with occasional call-outs to bring him back to earth, to saving him in what is quite literally a rescue.

In the original myth, again, there is no waking kiss. Instead, in this third time, everyone assumes Snow White is really dead, that she will not be coming back. The prince, who happens across her, insists she at least receive a proper burial. But when carrying her coffin, one of them trips and they stumble, which jostles the princess enough that the piece of apple stuck in her throat is dislodged and she coughs it up, reviving. Uh...

Yeah.

Anyways this got kind of messy at the end and idk if it even made sense this is really just unhinged rambling so...

Tldr, Odasaku and Chuuya both help "wake" Dazai even if their methods and personalities are very different, which is part of the reason why both bonds are very important. Neither are particularly gentle with him, but waking, especially if all you want to do is sleep, is not a gentle thing.

#this is barely a meta but if i didn't write this up i felt like i was going to go insane #not my best work by far but i hope it's at least enjoyable #bsd #bsd dead apple #bsd meta #bsd dazai #bsd odasaku #bsd chuuya #do i tag with the ship names? sure ig #odazai #soukoku #skk #storyrambles #<-last tag is appropriate story has rambled for too long on this. a meta based on a line that doesn't even exist

[daysofyellowroses]

chilli

carmen berzatto x reader | 1.8k | 18+ minors dni | tw: language, little bit of smut, men being sassy

prompt was: Carmy would neverrr date a girl in the food industry. Like he needs a girl sooo far removed??? Bc when he comes home, he just wants to roughly fuck out his frustrations and then be with a little sweet angel that plays with his hair and mutters how pretty he is and how good he makes her feel. So what would he do if she showed up to his work by surprise with like a tea or coffee or something all giddy to see him and she got all nervous bc she’s never seen him so angry and brute before screeeaming at the chefs (idea being a “get the FUCK off my expo chef, NOW!!!” Type intense Sitch) and r/ was like “carm…deep breaths, it’s just food bear. Do you need to come home?” And that would just make his OCD spiiiiirallll out bc how can someone so deeply important to him not see that it was so more then just food (even though he’s just a lil drama queen abt his work!!!!) - as requested by @thecapricunt1616 thank you so much for these requests they are honestly a joy to write and i can only hope i do your ideas justice!

not necessarily important but i had nfr by lana on repeat while writing this, i feel like it fits the vibe 🌼

🐻

Of all the people in the world, you never really expected to be with some like Carmy. It wasn't that he wasn't your type, or didn't treat you well, because he was and he did, he was the most amazing partner you could ask for. He was just different to anyone you'd ever dated. In the few relationships you'd had in the past you found yourself growing frustrated, fed up with being treated like some doll that would break easily. 

Just because you were a little more girly and had a soft personality it didn't mean you were totally delicate, that you would fall apart at the slightest touch. You were more than a bow in your hair, than pink dresses and long eyelashes. After your last relationship consisted of you basically being a doll on your boyfriend's arm, you swore it wouldn't happen again. 

And it didn't, Carmy didn't treat you like a doll, like something to be put on display when it suited him. He saw past your exterior, wanted to know the real you underneath it all. Of course he told you that you were beautiful, complimented you and made you feel incredible, but he also teased you and asked about your opinions on things and adored you just as much in your baggy t-shirts and sweatpants as he did in your dresses and stockings. 

It was the best relationship you'd ever had, and you couldn't believe your luck that you had met him. The two of you just clicked, everything fell into place from the first moment and you had fallen into a very enjoyable routine.

Because you both had busy schedules, you set aside one day every week to have a proper date, it could be going out for dinner or a movie or just relaxing at one of your apartments. And on the other days, you always managed to find a window for some..stress relief. 

At least four times a week, sometimes five depending on how work had been, one of you would show up at the other’s place, arms immediately wrapping around each other, getting to the bedroom if you were lucky. 

On the date nights, it was all about romance. You would dress up in a cute outfit, take your time to get ready, Carm would bring you flowers and hold your hand across restaurant tables. You would talk about anything and everything, and you would always end the night in one of your beds, it was sweet and romantic and tender.

Then on the other nights..you both knew what you wanted. Most times you just threw a long coat over your underwear if you were going to Carm's, clothes just slowed you down. It was like a different side of him, a fiery passionate wild side you adored. His hand around your neck, whispering the most depraved things in your ear as he fucked you til you could barely see straight anymore. Afterwards you would lay on his chest and stroke his hair, tell him how good he made you feel, how much you cared about him.

It was a routine, it worked, and you loved it.

But sometimes routines are meant to be broken, just a little bit. 

You had a day off work, and after doing some housework you went into town for a little browse around. You weren't sure why the urge came over you, but something in you decided to go visit Carmy at work. You had occasionally gone to the Beef for lunch with friends, feeling proud and stupidly happy when Carm would personally deliver your food. 

After picking up two coffees, you made your way to the restaurant, smiling as you spotted Richie behind the counter. He gave you a wave, but he wasn't quite his usual self, you could sense it.

“Mind if I head back?” You asked, gesturing to the kitchen door. 

“Uh..no,” Richie nodded, not quite meeting your eyes. “Head on in.”

You hesitated for a brief moment before walking into the kitchen, your senses becoming flooded by the smells, bright lights, and mostly by the shouting, specially Carm and Syd snapping at each other. 

Tickets were flooding out of the printer, the whirring sound filling the air. 

“If you just let me handle it, I can do this,” Syd snapped, pointing to the printer. “I don't have time to stand here arguing with you.”

“This is your fault,” Carm snapped, pushing his hand through his hair. “Messing around with other shit when you're supposed to be focusing. Just..just get the fuck off my expo, let me handle this.”

“Oh it's your expo now?” Syd scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Don't stand there and act like I don't-”

She paused as she met your eyes, clearing her throat.

Carm followed her gaze, looking over his shoulder to you. You expected his expression to soften, for him to come over to you. 

But he didn't. 

“Are you okay?” You asked, your heart starting to hammer in your chest.

After a moment of silence, Carm finally sighed, shaking his head. 

“This isn't a good time.”

“It's okay,” You walked closer, setting the coffees down on the counter and gently touching his arm. He pulled it free from your touch and you felt your heart sink.

“Just..take a deep breath,” You smiled softly. “it's just food, bear. The world isn't ending. Do you want to come home?”

The look you got had you turning from nervous to angry. 

Just food,” Carm repeated, rubbing his jaw. “Just fucking food?”

He laughed, mocking and cruel. You felt the anger rising inside you, taking a deep breath.

“You know what, I can't deal with this right now,” Carm threw his hands up, resting them on top of his head. “You don't know what the fuck I have to deal with, and I don't have time for your..”

“My what?” You interjected, challenging him. He didn't finish his sentence and you looked over to Syd. “Do me a favor,” You gestured to the coffee on the counter. “Pour that over his fucking head.”

You turned and walked away, hearing raised voices behind you, clamoring together. You shut your eyes for a moment, refusing to cry. Leaving the restaurant, the air felt cold and sharp on your skin, a determination to get as far away as possible hitting you.

You refused to look at your phone for the rest of the day, shutting it into your nightstand. By the time the lights of the city were lighting up the night sky, you didn't feel any less angry.

When you heard the knock on your door you told yourself not to answer, to let him wait. But there were things you needed to say, things you needed him to know.

Opening the door slowly, you held your hand up before Carmy could speak, taking a deep breath.

“I'm going to speak,” You told him, standing aside. “You're going to listen to me. Get in.”

He nodded, heading inside and holding his hand on his jacket zipper, looking at you.

You closed the door and looked back at him, folding your arms.

“Keep it on, I'll be brief.”

He moved his hand, biting his lip softly as he looked at you. You pushed aside the part of you that wanted to hug him like always, focusing on what you needed to say.

“First of all,” You began, taking a breath. “How..how fucking dare you speak to me the way that you did? How dare you speak to Syd that way, who the fuck do you think you are?”

You could tell he wanted to respond, holding your hand up.

“You think I don't understand stress? That I don't understand how important your job is to you? You can be stressed, you can be angry, but you are not allowed to speak to me that way ever again, I swear to god. Do you have any idea how it felt to stand there and be spoken to like that? Like I'm some embarrassment to you? Nobody treats me that way, you hear me? Fucking nobody.”

You took a breath, trying to calm yourself down, frowning as Carm ran his hand over his mouth, a slight smile on his face.

“Oh I'm sorry, is this a joke to you?” You snapped, resting your hands on your hips. “because I don't think it's very funny.”

“It's not a joke,” Carmy murmured softly, stepping closer to you and holding his hands up. “Not at all. I can't apologize enough for what I did, I swear to you it won't ever, ever happen again. It's just..”

“Just what?” You snapped, your heart pounding. 

“You're..you're really fucking hot when you're angry.”

You frowned at the comment before your expression softened a little, rolling your eyes.

“You are not allowed to be turned on right now. I'm too mad at you.”

“And it's hot,” Carm leaned in to whisper in your ear and you forced yourself not to be affected.

“Stop it,” You sighed, lightly swatting his shoulder. “I'm not in the mood.”

Carm pulled back, his hands touching your cheeks. 

“You deserve the world,” He sighed softly.  “And I don't deserve you, but I can't imagine my life without you. You're everything to me, I hate myself for hurting you, more than you could know. I don't expect you to forgive me, but if you do then I promise to spend every second making it up to you.”

“Every second?” You repeated, moving your hand to his arm, a small smile on your face. “you better get started then.”

“As you wish.” He grinned, giving you a kiss and letting you guide him towards your bedroom.

#the bear #the bear 🐻 #the bear fic #the bear fics #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x you #carmen berzatto x you #ask #request #these are honestly so fun to write

[soracities]

hii! do you ever get into a huge reading slump? i would say ive been in one for about 3 years now and im desperate to escape it and read again but i cant find anything that's 'popular' enjoyable and have no idea where to start in finding content and books i actually enjoy by myself without tiktok or booktube 😭

Oh I've been in a particularly bad slump for at least 2 years so yes, absolutely! I think the key thing here is to try and remove the pressure off yourself as much as you can: don't look at every book you approach with the mindset of "THIS is will be the antidote to my reading slump" or "THIS novel will save me" because it will most likely stop you from actually enjoying the book: when you go in with such high expectations, you're also bringing a very distracting form of hyper-vigilance with you, waiting for the magic moment to hit, counting the pages until it does, being too conscious or worried when it doesn't in the way you envisioned it. It will turn reading into a chore, an endurance test which you either succeed or fail at, and this will only cement the slump further.

Everyone is different and I don't know what kind of books you like most, but the best thing I can advise is to go back before your slump and see what some of your favourite reads were. One way to ease back into reading is to revisit books you loved and read them again--this eliminates some of the pressure and I think it can also help rebuild that excitement because you know you're returning to familiar ground you've enjoyed before. That, or find other works by those same authors whose writing / style you liked and slowly expand from there. I don't log my reading through apps or websites anymore (and I stay away from booktok like the plague but that's a whole other conversation)--I have an ask on how I find my books here and I hope that helps too--but I've heard really good things about The Storygraph so if tiktok and booktube haven't done it for you, this might be a much better way to move towards books you actually enjoy because it's based on your preferences, not an influencer's or what an algorithm is pushing.

Whatever book you decide to try next, I would also advise you to start slow and / or small if that's what you need (more here)--don't force yourself to plow through several hundred pages in one sitting or 2 days. Sometimes breaking a slump is far more sustainable when you do it chip by chip, slowly, but consistently in a way that makes it less daunting than thinking you have to finish 2 novels every week. Something as simple as setting aside 15 minutes to read in bed before you go to sleep each night can do it. You can also look at audiobook versions, or short story collections in whatever genre it is you enjoy most!

Best of luck, anon, and I hope some of these answers will help 🤍

#ask #Anonymous #book talks

[goldustwomun]

take a chance on me (b.b.)

pairing: bradley ‘rooster’ bradshaw x ex! mother! reader

summary: your daughter stumbles upon a photo of you and a mysterious man, immediately noticing the similarities between him and her. nothing good can come from revisiting the past, especially one you’d hoped to avoid because you’d never gotten the courage to tell him, the man from the photo, that he’s a father.

warnings: major rip-off of the mamma mia! plot but this was purely for enjoyment so xxx; angst angst angst; swearing; allusions to sex; a lot of exposition so sorry ‘bout that 

wc: 9.2k+

note: had so much fun messing around with this request (thank you by the way!!). listening to the mamma mia! soundtrack the whole time and now yearning for an island romance<3 

ps. reader’s age is slightly hinted to being over 30 but that’s only if you do the math and i left the daughter’s age ambiguous (she’s a teen, over sixteen at least); also, daughter’s name is poppy!

pps. i probably won’t be writing a second part to this because i love the ambiguous ending; let your imagination run free lovelies :))

more of my work x

The summer heat was thick and just about everywhere, like sticky honey you can’t wipe clean off your fingers after spreading it onto a piece of too-burnt toast. 

You were on the verge of giving up, trekking back home and collapsing onto the sofa with a stand-up fan aimed at your sweat-slick face. 

Maybe the dungarees hadn’t been your best idea when it came to thirty-degree weather, but the utility of them, their pockets filled to the brim with spare screws, a cylinder-shaped glue for the hot glue gun you’d lost in your storage room a week back, a few hair ties for when the one currently holding yours up snapped for the third time that day.

Practicality over comfort, as was your motto for the past over-a-decade of your life. As it had been, since you’d found yourself pregnant after a one-night-stand (turned many, many night-stand) you’d yet to shake yourself free of).

You were never one to ask for help, and when it came to raising your child, things hadn’t changed. No matter how desperate you were, working two jobs on an island you didn’t speak the language of, an infant perched on your hip, whaling in your ears whilst you simultaneously cleaned the rooms of the little bed-and-breakfast you’d landed a job at.

When you weren’t taking care of your kid or working, you were thinking about one of those two things, or both. 

And it wasn’t like you hated it entirely; she was the best thing to ever happen to you, could have arrived at a more opportune time, but she was your best friend if you’d ever had one. So saying she was a mistake or something you regretted– it was an unfathomable thought that had only crossed your mind once, sat in the doctor’s waiting room, pregnancy test wrapped in toilet paper, clutched tight in your trembling hands. 

“Ma’!” she yelled now, your little Poppy with her chocolate-brown curls, sun-kissed skin from all the time spent at the beach. Remarkably like her Father, but you’d never tell her that. 

“I’m here, I’m here!” you answered in a similar, exasperated fashion, bent over a crack in the intricately tiled mosaics that covered the floor of the plaza. 

You still worked at that bed-and-breakfast, though now it was yours and had expanded to a vast number of the buildings at the centre of the island. Everyone helped out, whether out of kindness or a small fee, and you were grateful for the community, the small army, you had behind you, catching you every time you stumbled (far too often than you’d ever admit).

“Need help?” Poppy asked, amused, hands perched over her white-tiered skirt clad hips, looking like the stubborn replica of her mother, of you. Her head just about obscured the sun from beating down on you anymore than it already was, framing her with a halo of gold that tinted the edges of her hair. 

“I’m alright, love,” you assured, heaving yourself straight with a pained groan. Poppy crowded you, arms going around your shoulders to help you up. “Why don’t you go help Esme. She’s in the storage room, looking for the hot glue gun.”

“Still haven’t found that thing?” 

“No, I– fuck. Everything disappears around here. Swear we’ve got a ghost or something, the only logical explanation.” Poppy nodded along, taking your finger-pointing at the supernatural with a deathly seriousness.

“Makes sense if you ask me, ghost with a hankering for rusty tools,” she agreed, voice solemn. “Aaaand you’re sure I can’t help you here?” she asked again, murky brown eyes baring right into your soul. You brushed her off, nudging her in the direction of the sweet old lady, Esme, with her wonky English accent and pastries to die for. 

“If you see anything you like, put it to the side!” you called after her retreating figure, shaking your head as she chucked a ‘thumbs up’ behind her back. 

Not only was she the spitting image of her Father, or rather, the man who got you pregnant as you called him in your head, but she walked and talked with that same air of breezy confidence that got him into your pants in the first place. 

You’d hoped a few more of your mannerisms (and none of your risky mistakes) would have brushed off on her as she grew up, but other than your resolute anger and little patience, she was nothing like you. 

Always headstrong, sometimes teetering on the precipice of arrogance, but she usually relented and bugged you with her incessant chatter until you forgave her. 

Would stare up at you, all watery and doe-eyed, hair curling around her chubby cheeks still splotchy from her tantrum, near ready for tears again until you were shushing her with a carrot stick coated in hummus (her favourite but you worried she’d turn into a chickpea or something close to it). 

Even if she was part-chickpea, you’d love her forever. 

Named her Poppy after the bunches of wild, scarlet-red flowers you’d seen breaking through the stones of the Acropolis when you were pregnant and needed a break from the island. Your Poppy was a lot like that; able to push past even the most inconceivable of hardships, past whatever unmovable stone that might be surrounding her, threatening to cage her in, until she was illuminating the world around her. Painting it a little brighter for everyone to enjoy.

Your very own field of flowers. 

Poppy could admit that even with having grown up on the island, she could never get used to the heat or the muggy feeling of her clothes sticking to her like a second layer of skin. But she persisted, finding Esme with a cloth tied around her head as a make-shift hat in the barn they used for storage.

It was… falling to pieces, and still, that was an understatement. 

The blue doors looked more grey than anything ocean-like, the junk crammed inside, stacks on stacks of unlabelled cardboard boxes she worried had a family of something disgusting in at least one of them. The ceiling had caved-in in places, allowing beams of sunlight to penetrate through, and acting as a door for the birds to fly in and build their nests.

So yes, the barn was falling to pieces, the entire hotel was, actually.  But what worried her the most was that her Mother seemed close to the same fate despite being so young, so she’d persist where she had to.

“Little girl, come help me with this box would you!” Esme ordered from somewhere within the labyrinth of boxes. Poppy picked her way through, using the groans Esme exerted as a homing-beacon and eventually bumping into the older woman. She was caked in dust and dirt, but didn’t seem to care all that much if the grin on her face was any hint of her mood.

Esme was rather grumpy a lot of the time, so a smile like that, one that screamed mischief, and her eyes beaming with that all-knowing look she got sometimes after visiting the psychic on the other side of the island… Well, something told her this couldn’t be good.

“What’s in this particular box, May?” Poppy questioned, huffing as she pushed it onto the ground.

“You’ll see in a moment–” Esme tssked at her impatience, patting her back so Poppy would move into the light so they could see its contents more clearly. When it was in place, Poppy looked-up at her from her crouched position on the floor expectantly, still unsure of where this was headed. 

“Don’t give me such a dumb look, little girl, open it!” she scolded, frowning so deeply Poppy worried her mouth would be stuck that way permanently. 

Sometimes she thought it already was. “Okay- Okay– Stop calling me that,” she added under her breath, pulling back the hole-ridden flaps and immediately rummaging through, wondering what all the fuss was about.

“This just looks like a bunch of old junk, May. I don’t think the glue-gun is in here.” 

“Keep looking,” she insisted, peering over her shoulder. It was only a few minutes later that her hand came down on Poppy’s shoulder, gripping tight enough that Poppy stopped shuffling things around, hand stuck on a tattered journal she’d never seen before. “That one– take that out.” 

“This?” Poppy asked inquisitively, lifting it from the box and standing up so Esme could see. 

“Yes, this,” she nodded with a relieved sigh, flipping open the first page. Inside, Poppy admired the elegant script, eyes widening at the name inscribed on the first page. 

“This was Ma’s?” 

Esme held it out to her, confirming her wild thoughts, doing little to halt the curiosity currently poking at her mind. “This was your Mother’s when I first met her. Maybe… younger than you, or the same age, I’m not sure. But she was beautiful, and hardworking, and very, very pregnant.” 

A forced laugh stumbled past her lips, disbelieving as she carefully turned to the next page. A stray photo, not stuck down like the others, flew out of the bottom. Poppy scrambled to pick it up, not wanting it to get lost amongst the piles of stuff they desperately needed to sort out.

In it was her Mother, looking radiant with her head tilted back in laughter, flowers in her hair, an arm around her waist that belonged to an unfamiliar man. “And– this guy, who’s he?” Poppy’s heart was hammering now, knowing the answer before Esme could even respond.

He had her curls, unruly and deep brown. And something about him, the fluidity in his shoulders, the ease with which he carried himself, the look on your face. It couldn’t be…

“I’m not sure. I never knew his name but he was following your Mother around that summer, like a lost puppy. Very cute,” she murmured appreciatively, gaze fixated on the photo in your hand. 

Poppy’s heart sank, hating the lack of answers, the not-knowing. She needed to know, could feel the fire stoked in the pit of her belly that would keep her up until she found out more, more, more. 

You wouldn’t say anything. You were tightlipped about the ingredients in your famous pasta sauce, so anything about Poppy’s potential Father would be a no-go, a dead end she couldn’t get herself stuck in and clue you in on her snooping.

“What happened to him– the puppy man?” Poppy did nothing to hide her curiosity, knowing deep down that Esme had lured her to this box for a reason. 

Everyone could see how you were wearing away, working yourself to the bone everyday for a dream that seemed just about unreachable. You needed someone, anyone, to help you, and Poppy wouldn’t always be there to do just that. 

She knew you didn’t need a man, bursting into your life and fixing your problems. It’d have you biting at his heels until he was running off into the sunset. But a partner– a companion, maybe, who could support you when the job was brutal and rough and you were nearing a breakdown like no other– you deserved, at the very least, that.

Poppy would make sure of it. It didn’t take long for her to do the calculations, nine months minus her birthday and she had an approximate date to look for. She thumbed through the journal, marking the pages that mentioned any indication of when you’d written in it, and shoved it into the back pocket of your denim shorts to search through later.

She’d find him if it was the last thing she’d ever do. 

Hopefully, it wouldn’t be, but she needed to see you smiling like you had in that picture. And Poppy had an inkling, a feeling, a certainty like no other, that the answer to all of your problems, maybe her’s as well, would be found with the man with the funny moustache and wicked grin. 

The internet was a powerful machine, and one, Poppy thought decidedly, she’d be forever grateful for. It didn’t take long to hunt down the mystery man from the photo. She smiled, somewhat maniacally, really, at the screen as she read through the email she received from the United States Navy. 

She’d gotten the idea after noticing the dog-tag around his neck, nestled against his bare chest. It was hard to see at first, what with the obnoxious printed shirts he wore in every photo, but Poppy was nothing if not thorough, meticulous, error-free. 

Anyway, it wasn’t like the Navy had actually responded to her far-fetched cries for help, but she did find a help-centre that was rather effective in hunting down men who had gotten someone or the other pregnant while deployed internationally. 

Poppy wondered how often this kind-of thing happened that they needed a whole department for it, suddenly trying to burn the image in her mind of a few more miniature him-with-the-moustache-s walking around the Earth. 

But it couldn’t be, not with the way he had stared at you in that photo. And you’d kept it, all these years, so it had to have meant something. 

Bradley Bradshaw. She scoffed, what a dumb name. And his callsign? Somehow worse– Rooster. She hoped eternally her maybe-Father wasn’t a proper moron now, and could still live upto the photos she had of him (of which she found many more hidden between pages in your journal). 

He was quite attractive, almost two decades earlier. And you– well, even today, you were ethereal in Poppy’s eyes. Carefree and determined. 

“Pops– hun, I’m going down to the post office, need anything mailed?” you asked from the other side of her bedroom door. 

“Yeah! One sec,” she replied, frantically shoving all of the post-it notes and pictures back into a drawer in her desk, doing one last scan of her room to make sure she hadn’t left anything lying around before snatching up the letter– to Rooster– from beside her laptop. 

Poppy opened the door to see you resting against the door frame, flipping through the letters (bills, probably) you had clutched in your hand. You held out your hand, waiting for her to drop it in your palm, but she quickly yelled out, “No!” which had you looking up from the dreaded envelopes with a raised brow. 

“No…?” you asked, confused at her unusual outburst. “So you don’t have any mail?”

“No,” she repeated, dumbly, mouth forming words that never made it out. “No– I have a letter, but I’ll come with you. Drop it off myself,” she explained eventually, nodding along as if she was trying to convince herself.

You relented, sending another curious look towards your daughter but stomping down the stairs, creaks following, to the car. “I’m leaving now so put your shoes on!” you sang. 

She sighed out of relief, shoving her feet into her trainers and barreling past you into the front seat of your Jeep. “God, Poppy– what’s gotten into you? Acting like a five-year old, I swear,” you grumbled, irritated and lethargic enough to have her wincing with guilt. 

This was a good thing, right? Sure, you’d be angry– scratch that, furious, murderous, down-right irate, when you found out, but you’d understand. She was doing this for you. 

“Sorry,” she appeased, kicking her feet onto the dashboard that earned her another withering glare from you. It did little to dissuade her as she continued talking. “Just giddy, that’s all.”

“Giddy? About a letter?” Poppy hummed in agreement, watching the ocean and mountain-side trees rush by, painting an array of abstract strokes across her vision. “Is it for a boy?” you asked, teasingly, side-eyeing her before returning to concentrating on the winding road ahead. 

“Mmm, funnily enough, yeah,” she giggled, loving how you were entirely clueless. 

“Interesting,” you murmured, then reaching across the console to squeeze your daughter’s bare knee. “Be careful, yeah?” 

Poppy’s eyes flashed, chest-clenching painfully as she worried her lip between her teeth. Her hand moved to rest across yours. You’d never opposed her love-life, of her having one, but Poppy had always wondered why your own dating history was so sparse, time spent, instead, taking care of her or, later on, the hotel. 

“Always, Ma’, you know that,” she made sure with a tight grin, praying you missed how it didn’t reach her eyes.

This was a good thing, she reminded herself. This was for you. 

Poppy was jumpier than usual, like a skittish cat, you observed silently. Slamming doors and screens shut when you walked by. You didn’t necessarily care what she was up to until she was rambling off, a mile a minute, going on about an excuse you hadn’t asked for.

You were a good mother, one that didn’t pry or push when you wanted the gossip and highlights of your kid’s life. Had built a relationship, a friendship, even, with your daughter where she voluntarily shared the information without you ever needing to bat an eyelash. 

So you tried not to worry, to let the mishaps distract you from the seemingly never-ending list of work you had tugging your attention elsewhere. 

But that was another thing about being a mother; worrying was second nature, a muscle that unknowingly worked itself sore whenever your daughter was out of your sight. 

She’d go off during the day, by the beach with her friends, at the dock helping with shipments or sailing into the late afternoon, returning only when the sun was sinking into the horizon and the sky was all shades of purple, pink, a burning orange. 

She’d give you a soft, routine kiss on your cheek as you sat on the dinner table, skin sticking to the plastic cover you’d laid on the surface to protect the wood. Spew details of her day, who said what, who kissed who– though always failing to mention the letter from a month ago, the unknown boy she was secretly buzzing about was still unknown. 

You hadn’t forgotten the letter, not recognising the address, some small town in America with little significance to you. 

Poppy sat across from you now, talking around a mouthful of the sandwich you’d made the both of you with the leftover baguette from the bakery across the street, one that hadn’t sold that day so was priced cheap.

“--and then, you’ll never guess, but Dom was changing on the boat and basically flashed everyone. Tony and Riley included. I felt so bad, almost pushed the boys overboard and she was so red for someone who, basically, never got embarrassed.”

You snorted, stopping mid-bite. “Just because someone doesn’t make their emotions obvious doesn’t mean they don’t feel them. And I hope they’ll apologise to her.” 

“Oh, of course, of course,” she agreed enthusiastically, eyes wide as if digesting every single one of your words. “And they did right after I threatened them. It wasn’t awkward for long, they’re not a bad bunch or anything. It was an accident, Dom said so herself.”

“That’s good,” was all you answered, now distracted by a letter in your hand you’d pulled from the pile as Poppy talked. She was watching you intently, burning a hole through the paper, and, being her Mother, you already knew she was dying to know who it was from.

“It’s for you,” you said eventually, putting her out of her momentary misery as she squealed and snatched it from your hand. You watched discreetly, touched by the sight of her mouthing the words as she read the letter. “Is it from that American boy of yours?” 

“American?– what– I mean, how do you– how do you know he’s American?” she stuttered messily, mouth agape and ready to argue.

You reflexively held up your hands in surrender. “Hey, love– I just saw the sender’s address, that’s all,” you assured. 

She collapsed back into her seat, mumbling an apology for getting all worked up.

It was now or never, you decided, finally sick of the anxiety coursing through your veins these past few weeks. 

“Poppy, you’re… alright, right?” you asked, struggling to find the right words and sighing, forehead resting against your palm while the other crossed the table, holding your daughter’s hand, grip light and featherlike, in comfort. 

“I mean– you’d tell me if you were in any trouble, or anything. I wouldn’t judge or–”

“Ma!” she scolded, sounding appalled by your line of questioning and roughly pulling her hand out of your grasp.

“Don’t ‘Ma’ me, Pops. You’ve been going mental for weeks now! I’m allowed to fret, I’m your Mother!” you retorted, standing up abruptly, chair screeching against the linoleum tiles as you dropped the plates into the sink. 

“It’s nothing, I swear–”

“Is it drugs?” you asked suddenly, turning around to face her. 

She looked completely aghast, arms crossed against her chest defensively and, what was likely subconsciously, pouting at you. “If it’s drugs, Pops, we can get help. I’ve got money saved up and I know a decent doctor on the mainland. I’ll get you an appointment tomorrow if you let me–”

“Ma!” she screeched again, parroting your earlier movements, walking right up to you, holding your shoulders firmly, and shaking as she spoke, or rather, yelled. “I’m not on drugs, don’t be stupid!” You scowled at her, pushing her off of you.

“Then what is it because I’ve been wracking my brain for what could possibly have my child on fucking edge and–”

“I found a journal!” she interrupted, voice loud and exasperated. You whipped around, pinning her down with a stare you’d mastered over the years. She froze on the spot, likely shocked she’d let it slip in the first place.

“You found a– a journal? Where? Who’s?” you asked succinctly, hiding your shaking hands behind your back. 

“Uh– it was– Esme, she– it’s her’s, and she wanted me to help her find the name of this guy who’d visited her when she was younger. I reached out and it’s a letter from him, that’s it. I was excited for her,” she explained, but the way her voice wavered made you certain that wasn’t the whole story. 

“Then why didn’t you just tell me?” you reasoned, still unbelieving. It was too convenient of an explanation. 

“Because she told me not to! You’re– you’re a bit harsh, sometimes, a bit cynical when it comes to love,” she said, hesitantly, mouth twitching with a smile at how you were now the one pouting. “Anyway, you’re always telling me to butt out of people’s business so I thought it’d be best to just keep it to myself.”

The two of you, mother and daughter, stood in silence for many long minutes, bathed in the nauseating yellow glow of the kitchen lights, flickering bulbs casting ugly shadows across your faces. But it was home, the one one you knew, so you never complained, at least not out loud.

Not when Poppy was around to hear you. “Okay, I believe,” you relented, returning to the dishes, though Poppy nudged you out of the way.

“Why don’t you let me do this, huh? Go sit down for a bit, I’ll finish tidying up.”

You opened your mouth to protest but Poppy was quick to give you a look– the look. Same one you’d mastered after many years of dealing with her fits, and evidently, she seemed to have learnt it as well. You acquiesced reluctantly, hands raised for the second time that night, and fell back, fainted more like, onto the sofa.  

Poppy stood, hunched over the sink, and you watched her from your position in the living room. 

Something– a nagging feeling you couldn’t quite get rid off– poked at you, at your brain in all of its aching, slimy glory– that the story she fed you was just that– a story, fictional. But you trusted her, unlike some other mother’s who’d lecture you over the cabbages in the market about how you were too lenient with Poppy, how she’ll end up just like you.

You griped internally. She’d be lucky if she turned out anything like you. Your gaze returned to her, shoulders moving as she scrubbed at the dirty dishes.

Okay. Maybe not exactly like you. 

He arrived on an assuming Tuesday, a single bag strapped to his back, all brown skin and smouldering looks hidden behind decade-old sunglasses. Poppy couldn’t believe it, not one bit, as she greeted the stranger while working at the pier.

He had her curls, unruly and deep brown. 

“Can I help you?” she asked politely, lips pulled into a frown to hide the urge of flinging herself at him with no explanation at all.

“Yeah, I’m looking for this address–” he fumbled with a piece of paper, pulling it from his back pocket. It was a letter, her letter, and he jabbed at the address, her address, on the front of the creased envelope. “--or if that’s not familiar, Poppy? She said her name was Poppy. Do you know anyone like that around these parts?”

She snorted. What were the chances? 

She’d almost bailed on her shift, persuaded by Ben and his pretty smile to sneak out to the hidden beach on a nearby island. You’d managed to coerce him into going another day, mumbling an excuse or two in between kisses as you rushed down to the dock. 

And then there he was, looking a lot like the lost puppy Esme had described to you. He still had the same odd facial hair, though it fit him a little better, having aged well. 

“Poppy? Yeah, I know her,” Poppy mused, pulling at her bottom lip in faux-thought, eyes darting between the letter and the confused man holding it.

“Right, well–” he cleared his throat, shifting his weight between his feet. “Can you direct me towards her?”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” you nodded vehemently, hoping he couldn’t see the grin threatening to take over your features. 

He sighed defeatedly after waiting for you to continue, and after you failed to expand on the information, he shoved the paper back into his pocket. “Okay, thanks for the help”-- sounding not the least bit thankful.

Better put him out of his misery, she thought eagerly, looping an arm around his shoulder, having to lean up on the tips of her toes to reach. “It’s actually you’re lucky day, Bradley–” you began, that same grin winning its battle. 

“How do you know–” he cut you off, then stopped himself, pausing as he turned to face you. “Oh…”

“Oh!” she mirrored, though a lot less like she’d had some sort of epiphany. more mocking and exaggerated.

“So you’re Poppy?” he asked, stupidly, bashfully, shaking his hair out of his eyes. They were slightly longer, the strands, than in the photos, but he had that same boyish charm you’d sensed. 

“The one and only,” Poppy enthused.. 

“So you’re–”

“Her daughter? Yeah, that’d be me,” she finished for him, teetering towards something more serious, more solemn, bracing yourself for the moment of realisation as the both of them walked up to the road, identical gaits and hair and noses, where Poppy’s Jeep (or the one she’d borrowed from you) was parked.

It never came. 

“And your Dad?” 

You choked on a breath that never made it down the right pipe, halting in your steps. “My Dad?” you asked, bemused.

“Yeah– is he around? Would love to meet him, your Mother as well, of course. I was really surprised by the letter but I think–”

“My Dad isn’t around. Never met him,” she explained slowly, frustrated by how he really wasn’t understanding. Had she not been obvious enough?

Shit. Would she give him a fucking heart attack if she told him now?

She looked him over, deciding he wasn’t so old that an unannounced confession would kill him. 

“I’m sorry about that, men can be real dickheads,” he stated, as if knowing from experience, not bothering to censor his language, and she liked him just a bit more for it.

He was perfect for you.

Poppy watched, unspeaking, as he settled into the passenger seat, admiring the interior of the car– probably the one thing you owned that wasn’t ripping at the seams. “So, where are we headed?” 

“The hotel Ma’ owns, it’s at the–”

“Centre of the island?” he interrupted, staring distantly out at the unwavering landscape. 

Bradley-- Rooster let out a shaky breath, one she tried not to notice, understanding that the two of  you, meeting after all these years– it wasn’t going to be easy. Not when there was a significant part of his life he didn’t even know existed, one that came in the form of her.

“You remember,” you pointed out, surprised and sounding more like a statement rather than a question.

“Yeah, I mean– I remember everything. How could I not?” There was something beneath his words, a weight to them that had her shifting uncomfortably in her seat, foot colliding with the accelerator as they hurried home. 

“So you’ll be staying here,” she announced, shoving her shoulder against the barn door and coughing at the dust that attacked her senses once she managed it open. Bradley– or Rooster, as he’d told her to call him– followed close behind, cautious with every step as he took in his  dilapidated housing.

“Here?” he questioned out loud, pushing at the bunches of hay lining the floor with the toe of his combat boots. He was sweating like it was no one’s business and Poppy giggled to herself, finding amusement in his unspoken disgust. 

“Yeah, here. The hotel’s all booked up–” a lie, she just couldn’t have you stumbling upon him before she’d planned how it’ll all go down. “So this was all we had left. I’ll find a spare mattress for you, and the bakery across the road– owned by a sweet, old lady–” another lie, it was Esme and there was nothing sweet about her. “--who can help you with showering, food, all the necessities.” 

He stared intensely as she spoke, as if not really listening to a word she was saying. 

“What is it?” she asked eventually, breaking free from his gaze as she busied herself, distracted herself, with collecting the boxes into a corner, out of the way to allow him some more room.

Rooster shook his head, convincing himself to look elsewhere, and smoothed his hair back. 

“Nothing, sorry. You just– you’re so much like your Mother. It’s crazy, really.” She beamed at him, suddenly sitting on the floor opposite, and he joined her amongst the dust and hay. 

“Really? You think so?” He nodded, laughing at her eagerness. “She said once, I don’t think she knew I was awake and I was really young, or younger,” she amended then continued. “She said I reminded her of my Dad, but I couldn’t ever tell you if it’s true or not.”

“Can’t say I knew him either–” Brilliant, it was all just brilliant. “--but you’re as… fiery, I guess would be an appropriate word, as she was.”

“And what was she like?”

He was ready to answer, not needing even a moment to think his response through, but your voice from outside the barn had Poppy’s eyes widening with fear, heart sinking low in your chest.

“Poppy! You in here?” You struggled with the door, pushing all of your weight into the crumbling wood. 

“Fuck–” she cursed. “You need to– you need to hide, like– now.” He watched, perplexed, opening his mouth to question the sudden turn in events but she held up a finger, shushing him like he was a child and not her Father-who-didn’t-know-it. 

“I’ll explain later just– please,” you begged quietly, urging him deeper in between the organised junk and out of sight. 

She inhaled, exhaled, steadying her thrumming heartbeat. “Ma’! Y-yeah, I’m here, one second.” 

Poppy pulled on the handle, hauling it open but the circular, metal ring broke-free from the door. 

“Another thing to fix, I guess,” you noted, nodding at the rusted metal in her hand. “What’re you doing in here?” you asked, as if only now aware of where the both of you were.

“Here? I’m just– glue gun, yanno. Esme still couldn’t find it so I thought I'd try again.” 

“Alright you flaky weirdo. I swear, you wouldn’t even need drugs to act all high and jittery, manage it just fine all by yourself,” you mumbled, dismissively pushing past her and heading straight towards the area Poppy had, moments earlier, shoo-ed Rooster towards. 

“You can't go there!” she burst out, holding out a hand in front of you that you glowered at. 

“Yeah, and why’s that?” you asked, voice tight and ready to pull the Mother card you never really enjoyed playing. You’d earned it, sure, but it was a little demeaning considering how old your daughter now was. 

“Because– Because–” 

Shuffling footsteps alerted your attention towards the disarray, squinting between the piles, searching for where the noise originated from. “Is there someone else here?”

“Yes! There is!” Poppy admitted, and your stare returned to her. She could see, right past your head, where Rooster was stepping into the light, assuming she was about to explain his presence, but she shook her head imperceptibly– not yet, go back, go back

You stared expectantly, waiting for a response. “It’s Ben,” she blurted, not sure, even herself, where she was headed. “And he’s– well, you see– he’s naked. Yeah, we were about to have sex and you walked in and he’s all embarassed.”

You sputtered, all but sprinting towards the door and unable to look behind you so you missed how Poppy relaxed minutely. “Oh– wow, okay. Just– that’s not what I was expecting,” you stuttered, palm shielding your eyes. “I mean, firstly– not here, gross, that sounds unbelievably unhygienic. And secondly– use protection.”

You didn’t stay any longer, escaping to the outside, and Rooster appeared beside Poppy almost immediately.

She turned, ready to barrage him with excuses and explanations she hadn’t thought of yet. “I’m so sorry, she’s–!”

“She doesn’t know, does she? That I’m here?” he asked, though he didn’t need you to respond to know the answer.

He groaned into his hands, bending at the hip and breathing raggedly. “Okay, so– I’m gonna go before she does find out. It was nice meeting you Poppy,” he said, all in one go with no room for you to interrupt.

“No you can’t– she’s just–”

“No, I really, really need to leave,” he bit out, not facing her as he strapped his bag to his back.

“If you just give her time–”

“You don’t understand!” he exploded, eyes fluttering shut as he visibly attempted to calm himself. “The last time she saw me– it wasn’t– it wasn���t good. And I left the next day, without a word of apology or justification or–” Rooster sighed as if he’d had this argument with himself countless times before. “--so no, I can’t imagine she’ll ever come around.” 

He stopped at the boundary of the door, calling behind him. “I’m sorry for wasting your time.” 

Then he left, again. 

At least he apologised this time, she thought bitterly. 

You were stepping down from the hardware store, or hole in the wall, really, when you saw him.

A flash of saturated colour, mind-numbing prints, and broad shoulders. You gasped, frantically searching around yourself as if questioning if anyone else had seen a ghost from their own past.

No. They seemed to be going about their day as usual– Johnny sweeping at the cobblestone directly in front of his store, Mia laying fresh fish on ice, ready to be sold, her six-year old daughter tugging on the bottom of her dress with tears in her eyes. 

No one was phased, except you. You looked back to where you’d seen him, but he wasn’t there anymore, only an empty street corner with nothing particularly out of the ordinary.

What the-- You rushed forward, intent on finding out the truth as your boots slapped loudly against the pavement, dodging busy workers and locals, all, now, staring at your wild movements. 

“Child– where are you in such a hurry to?” Esme yelled, head poking through her bakery window with a scowl at the abrasive noise you were making in your pursuit.

“I’ll explain later, May!” you hurtled back, not stopping despite the burning in your legs, your chest. 

Still, you carried on, making it all the way to the edge of the city centre, rushing to a stop as you stared across the abandoned gravel road. There was no one there except you, and you panted, exhausted and head-pounding, as you scolded yourself for such a stupid daydream. The heat had never gotten to you like this before. 

It felt so real, him. 

“Hey,” a voice greeted, cautiously, from behind you. Your eyes closed, hands clenched at your side, before you turned to face the tentative owner.

“Hey yourself,” you answered, surprising yourself at how civilised and steady your voice sounded to your own ears.

Bradley fucking Bradshaw. It was real after all.

“Are you okay?” he asked, hurrying towards you and letting his bag drop to the ground between the two of you, pulling out a water bottle and holding it out in front of you. A peace offering of sorts. 

You only stared at it, like it’d bite you if you got any closer. “Take it, sweetheart. It’s fucking miserable out here.”

The endearment had you flashing your eyes at him, fire or rage or something somehow hotter– the sun had nothing on you in that moment, but he stumbled back, remembering himself. 

“What are you doing here?” you demanded between gritted teeth, chin turned up at him. 

“Sightseeing,” he said simply with that reaching grin that had you melting years earlier. 

You scoffed impatiently. Poppy really had gotten her knack for lying, or royally sucking at it, from him. 

“That’s bullshit. Why are you really here?”

There must have been an edge to your voice that had him spilling the truth, because you were stunned when he explained. 

“Poppy– you met Poppy?” you asked, forcibly nonchalant, arms no longer dangling stupidly at your side but rather picking at the straps of your dungarees, loose threading growing longer as you pulled at them. 

“Yeah, she’s a good kid,” he said, nothing giving away– not in his words, his body language, the look on his face– that he knew. Knew she was his. 

He sat on the edge of the pavement, right by your feet, and patted the burning space next to him. You blew at a strand of hair tickling your nose, hating how you listened, even then, and sat right next to him, shoulders brushing the slightest bit and you were scampering to put some more distance between the two of you.

He smirked, quiet, leaning his arms on his bent knees, and his head on top, turned towards you as he watched you fight yourself. 

“So, how’ve you been?” he asked, waiting, patient, all things you could never be.

“I’m fine,” you grumbled dryly, accidentally meeting his eyes, Rooster’s smirk deepened, before darting away. “You?”

The mid-afternoon heat bared down on the both of you, colouring your shoulders darker and doing nothing to help the heavy thumping against your skull, like a jackhammer or a fucking normal hammer– whatever. It just hurt bad. 

Rooster noticed, silently offering his water to you again which you reluctantly snatched from him, gulping almost half of it down before he decided it was safe to speak.

“Still get migraines from the heat?” he asked, though it was more an observation than a question. You nodded, placing the now-empty bottle between your feet. 

“I’m fine, as well. After I left–” you visibly winced, glaring against the rays of the sun as you willed yourself to look anywhere but at him, not when the tips of your ears were burning, ringing, making you dizzy and woozy and about ready to throw up all over your worn boots. 

“--I went back to training and was then deployed overseas for a long time. Been training new recruits for the past few years now. It’s–” he stopped, glancing at you momentarily, but decided to continue. “--it’s nice. Feels like I’m moulding them to be better versions than me because I sure wasn’t picture perfect by any means.”

“No, you really weren’t–aren’t–” you agreed, voice barely above a whisper. 

“I know I never said sorry, and it seems pointless now but–”

“Bradley,” you said his name and his heart stopped. He was dead and even though it was you that had killed him, right there with your voice alone, it was also only you that could bring him back to life. “I really don’t want to hear this,” you begged, and you never begged– never.

What had he done to you?

“Please, sweetheart–” Again with the nickname. You bristled beside him, standing up all of a sudden as if you were about to run in the opposite direction of his familiar ruggedness. “I need you to hear this, just a second–”

“No– you don’t,” you growled out of frustration, tugging your hair free and pressing your fingertips into your skull, anything to soothe the ache growing there. “--you don’t get to need anything, you, you– fucking prick!” 

He said nothing, baffled, shocked, certain nothing he said now would make this situation any better. It was downhill from here.

“You said you loved me– promised me the fucking world and a ring and a life together, and the next morning, you left! You fucking– you left!” You were yelling now, unafraid, unabashed, uncaring if anyone could hear. They couldn’t, and if they could, they wouldn’t clue you in that they were. 

The people of this town loved to know the darkest, most confidential secrets of its inhabitants, all without ever showing their face. This wasn’t any different. 

“I had to!” he insisted aggressively, pushing off the rubble and invading your personal space, leading you back, back, back– until you hit a wall. You held him at arm's length, hand pressed against his hard chest, holding him there. 

If he got any closer– well, if the past was anything to go by, you wouldn’t remember to stay mad long. 

“I had to!” Rooster repeated, desperately. You said nothing, so he went on. “I got a letter– they needed me back, I can’t– I can’t tell you why–” You sneered, typical. “--but, I was going to come back. I swear it.”

His breathing was loud, dense in your buzzing ears. It’s just words, nothing but words– you repeated to yourself, over and over again. Bradley stepped back, giving you space and himself, as well. But his despairing stare– it pierced something inside you, something you hadn’t thought was still there. 

“I wrote letters,” he stated.

“I know, I got them,” you retorted acridly, slumping into the wall for support.

“You never responded.” Again, stating facts.

“I was busy.” Being pregnant. 

He nodded, unable or unwilling, you weren’t sure, to argue. An emptiness stretched between you and him, the kind you don’t think any words, half-hearted i’m sorrys, or passionate confessions could ever fill. 

He bent to pick up his backpack. “Is there anything, and I mean anything, I could say to make you forgive me,” he asked, voice dejected and the rest of him following suit.

You shook your head, words failing you.

Rooster, Bradley– he turned to leave, accepting defeat, and something roared in your chest, urging, begging, pleading for you to stop him.

You don’t know why you did it, or how you thought it would ever be even a half-decent idea, but it spilled past your lips before you knew what you were saying, confessing, like a foot jamming between a door, forcing it open for someone, anyone.

Bradley.

“Poppy,” you said, loud enough for him to hear. He stopped but didn’t face you. “Poppy. She’s– she’s yours.” 

His bag– the poor thing had been rattled all day– fell off his shoulder, and he spun, in slow motion, questions discernible on his face but struggling to make it out of his mouth. “How– We didn’t– I used–”

“What’s that thing they say– ninety-nine percent effective.” You shrugged blandly. “Guess we were the one percent. 

It was strange having a man in the house, but there he was– Bradley Bradshaw, or Rooster, sat right at your kitchen table looking a lot like a man you’d once loved but hoped to forget.

There’s this story you loved to tell Poppy when she was young, dealing with the realities of bullies and snarky kids with nothing else to do but poke fun at her absent Father and questionable living circumstances. It was ironic, really, because it wasn’t like they were exactly well off, but kids were mean and you were sick of seeing your daughter upset everyday when there was nothing you could do.

So you told her the story of Pandora’s Box, or Jar, actually, as she corrected you, having read about it in the library but still entirely enchanted by your way of storytelling. It was like letting her in on a secret only grown-ups knew and Poppy was downright bewitched to be a part of the club.

It was never the whole let-out-everything-awful-and-wrong-with-the-world part of the story that was your motivation for telling it, or her love for hearing it, but rather, the ending. 

After all the evil, poverty, greed and general nasties had escaped, tainting the world and the humans that inhabited it– out came hope, fluttering on its weak wings but beautiful all the same. 

At the time, you’d believed hope to be this beacon of light, something to keep you going when nothing else could, when the bullies had you down bad.

Now, however, you saw hope as a cruel joke. 

That after all of this negativity that had made mankind wrought with sin and selfishness, hope lingers about for no reason other than to yank your chain, keep the wheel of capitalism turning, the public nothing but a lot of pigs with hope dangled in front of them like an out-of-reach carrot.

You’d admit it’s a pessimistic take on the story, but it wasn’t long after Poppy was born that you realised hope was a sweet lie fed to the ignorant. 

The proof of it sat right in front of you, looking exactly the same except for the way in which his hair tickled the tops of his ears, having grown out from his previous military-ordered buzzcut.

“Can I get you something? Tea? Water?” you asked, words maddeningly courteous as you yanked the fridge door open, searching for something to offer your guest.

He hadn’t said a word since you’d blurted it out an hour ago, instead, guiding him back into town, to your house, Poppy nowhere insight (likely hiding out until she’s certain you’ve cooled down, though unluckily for her, the very sight of her would have you revved up and raging whenever she dared make an appearance). 

Rooster stared at a single tile on the opposite end of the kitchen, fixated and motionless like a statue and nothing like the passionate, begging man from earlier. 

“Helllooo?” you asked again, waving a hand in front of his face that snapped him from whatever trance he’d been under. He blinked at you, face blank enough to unnerve you. He should’ve said something by now, right?

“Water would be good, thank you,” he answered eventually, hoarse like he hadn’t spoken in years. You nodded, pulling a glass from the cabinet and letting the sink run into it before placing it on the plastic-topped table in front of him. 

You sat down on the only other usable chair that happened to be right next to him, the other two with the unstable legs and missing backrests having only been kept to make your kitchen look a little less incomplete. 

You both sat in silence, one that seemed just about never ending and had you gnawing on your lips and nails like a mad man. He looked over at you, noting your anxious state, and pulling your hand away from your mouth. It was infuriating, the way he acted like no time had passed. 

Well it had if your daughter was any indication. A whole lifetime had come and gone, for you, at least, and he couldn’t ignore it away, not like the rest of his problems or like he’d done with you. You were about to say as much, going off like you’d been itching to since you’d set sights on him, but he beat you to it.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He wasn’t looking at you, but you didn’t need to see him to hear the distress in his voice, and beneath that, a restrained sort of anger.

“I had nothing to tell,” was all you offered him, and his gaze snapped to you in the blink of an eye, his temper apparent on his features as that one vein at the top of his forehead stood proud, face going scarlet as he held himself back. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he spit out, unbelieving. “Nothing to tell?” he repeated. “I have a daughter, for Christ’s sake! One I would’ve loved to know about if you’d done me the courtesy of actually letting me in!”

Your hands clenched into tight fists, fingers twitching. “What? Like you were any better when you up and left?” 

He was shaking his head at you, unwilling to hear anything you were saying, and you were no different. “It’s not the same fucking thing, you know that. I had to leave. It’s my job, my duty, to my country and to–”

“Well what about me, huh?” you bellowed, reaching decibels you didn’t think were physically possible. Yet there you were, defying all odds. “What about your duty to me? To us? You promised–”

“I know what I promised you, but how could I give you anything– a life, a home, a family, a future– if I was broke and unemployed. Money doesn’t grow on trees, sweetheart, not here in the real world.” 

You couldn’t take it, exploding out of your chair. He didn’t know, couldn’t know, what you’d been through, what you’d fought past. But he followed close behind, grabbed you by your wrist until you had no choice but to face him. 

Rooster’s breaths escaped him in hard bursts, and you looked no better with the flush creeping up your neck and the scowl permanently etched to your face.

“That’s pure coming from you, the same man who was throwing away his life to join the army, giving up a paying job, all because his ego wouldn’t let him work for his Dad.” 

Bradley recoiled like you’d slapped him. 

“You weren’t around to see me working two, sometimes three if I could manage it, jobs– for years, Bradley, years. It was hard, so fucking hard, but I did it because I had someone dependant on me. I wasn’t alone, living like some unattached bachelor. I worked myself to the bone for her– for Poppy.” You were close to sobbing by then, the weight of it all finally registering. “Because if I didn’t, no one would.” 

He looked like he wanted to argue more but thought better of it in the end, letting go of his hold on you and moving to lean his forehead against the wall in the living room. You watched, not wanting to move lest he remember you’re still there and end up going for a second round. You couldn’t, yearning for respite of any kind. 

And his head turned from where he was, catching the chest of drawers nestled in front of the window with photos of you and Poppy adorning every inch of its surface. He walked over, wordless.

You joined him where he stood, hand brushing against his, by accident, you’d tell yourself later, but when you tried to move away, he slipped his fingers through yours, squeezing hard. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, though there was no one else to hear it, no one but you. 

You nodded, accepting his apology, then realising he wasn’t looking at you, you said, “Me too. I’m sorry.” 

He reached forward, picking up a photo of Poppy at age two, hair in pigtails, chubby knees covered in sand at the beach. It was the first time she’d gone into the water and you wanted to live in that moment forever, freeze it and hold it close to your chest. It had seemed like the biggest milestone at the time, and you remember wishing he was there to treasure it as well.

“I know why you did it,” he admitted, and you faltered from where you stood. “And I’m not going to stand her and pretend like I would have dropped everything, put everything on pause, for the two of you. I can’t guarantee that, knowing who I was back then.” You inhaled shakily, eyes glassy from barely-held-back tears. 

Bradley turned to you abruptly, hand sliding out of yours to hold your face instead, close and intimate. Like nothing had changed.

You didn’t fight it, savouring the feeling of being held, of relinquishing control to someone else, if only for a second. “But that’s not who I am anymore. I don’t care about what happened and what didn’t. I’m here now, and, if you’d let me, I’d like to stay. Learn a little more about you, and about– about Poppy, as well.” 

You searched his face for any hint of a lie, that innate urge to protect your child at all cost threatening to label Bradley’s confession as pretence. It’d be easier if it was, you thought, if things weren’t so complicated and you could just say no.

But no matter how hard you looked, how long as well, you found nothing, only love and a sincerity you couldn’t possibly fault, even if you were still broken and bruised from years of delayed burn-out. 

So you did the only reasonable thing one could do. You nodded, complimenting it with a watery smile he chuckled lowly at. 

“Yeah? Gonna take a chance on me, sweetheart?” he asked, needing confirmation but unable to hide his budding rapture.

“Yeah,” you breathed. “Okay, okay. I think– maybe, we can work something out.”

He grinned and fuck– was he a vision. No matter how you framed the past, it was all going to be both of yours’ fault for what happened, and how it did. His for leaving and yours for keeping the child you shared a secret. 

And it wasn’t like the road ahead was going to be at all easy, you’d accepted your fate already. But maybe, and you might have been overstepping or consumed by an unexpected wave of euphoria that impaired your judgement– but maybe a family was worth fighting for. 

After all, the best things in life, the things truly worth having and celebrating, were never meant to be easily acquired, otherwise you’d just take them for granted.

You didn’t take this for granted, and you didn’t let the hassle deter you. 

For the first time in a long time, you had hope, and there was nothing cruel or funny about it. 

Hope you enjoyed this <3 Reblogs & Comments are love love loved!

+ my masterlist

#bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw angst #rooster bradshaw angst #rooster bradshaw oneshot #bradley bradshaw oneshot #top gun: maverick fanfiction #top gun: maverick #miles teller #miles teller x reader #take a chance on me #my writing #mamma mia!

[bunni-v1]

My request is for riddle x reader where the reader is a very skilled equestrian

Riddle and His Equestrian Partner 

TW: My little pony reference; swearing

Info: Riddle x Reader; Horses; Idk shit about horses

🍓This low-key turned into a whole short story in several parts before I remembered these were head cannons and forcefully split it up lol. It’s not too long, because little concepts like this aren’t exactly the easiest to write a multi-page story about, but I try my best. I kinda of just went off on my own though, so I hope this is what you wanted lol. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy it, and sorry about the whole waiting thing only for a mini piece like this.

Riddle

-Ah! Riddle Rosehearts, we meet again.

-Riddle is a proud man. He’s multi-talented, incredibly hardworking, intelligent, and not so much kind, but it's not his fault his mother shoved a stick up his pompous ass.

-He takes great enjoyment in being the best at the things he does, but he fully accepts that… maybe… possibly he won’t always be at the top of the top.

-He does try, though. Very hard, because if he doesn’t his mother will be very cross with him.

-Something he takes greatest pride in is his talent in horseback riding. He’s a very talented equestrian, and he adores his horses. It’s one of the very few hobbies he was pushed into that he genuinely loves.

-He loves it so much that, when he gets accepted to attend NRC, he willingly and excitedly signs up for the equestrian club. In fact — other than his mother forcing the school down his throat — NRC’s equestrian club was one of the main draws of the school to him.

-This is where he meets you, his freshman year of college. 

-He walks into the stables, the smell of hay, feed, and mud (and horse shit) filling him with nothing but delight. 

-Students are allowed to bring their own horses from home if they’d like, but the school provides a handful of wonderful purebreds for those new to the sport or not willing to transport their own to campus.

-Riddle decided against bringing his old girl the first semester, even though she would be more reliable. He wanted a change, something new and exciting. He was good with horses, so he was sure whichever one he was given would be easy enough to work with and train how he liked. 

-While he was looking at the different horses, one in particular caught his eye. A beautiful Appaloosa with a shiny clean coat and pretty braided hair.

-It was love at first sight for him. This was his horse, gaping at it with an open mouth, he looked rather stupid. 

-At least, that’s what you thought at least. Stupid and endearing staring at your big baby of a horse like she was the most perfect creature on earth.

-To be fair, she was really pretty, just not… not pretty enough for this reaction, you think.

-“Hey, you okay?” You ask.

“Ah- Uhm, yes. Just… appreciating the horse.”

-Riddle is bright red trying to explain why he felt so… inspired by your horse. 

-Surprisingly, however, it goes well, as you very enthusiastically tell him all about Rainbow Dash, “Dashie”, the third. 

-You’re his first friend on campus! (Other than Trey).

-However, your name sounds very familiar, and he can’t quite get it out of his head after your first meeting.

-So… he looks you up, and he sees your insanely impressive track record. First-place medals, championship trophies, the whole shebang. You’re far more talented than him, and it almost makes him jealous he wasn’t so incredibly impressed.

-Truly Night Raven College has the most impressive students attending within its walls.

-He would initiate some sort of rivalry, but you’re just so… cool. So relaxed, and confident about your skills. He can’t help but admire you more than he wishes he were you.

-The two of you have very different schedules, so you hardly get to see each other outside of club meetings, your interactions are strictly horse-related.

-However, you hear about his violent temper and you find it kind of funny. 

-“You’re like an untrained horse, you need a good rider to reel you in.” You always tease with a wink whenever he gets particularly angry at a match or during practice.

-To everyone’s surprise, he doesn’t blow up at you, just flustered and grumbles like a toddler being scolded by his parent.

-In fact, you’re the only person he really doesn’t blow up at. Your mutual love for horses and hard work in classes make you a nearly unstoppable duo.

-When he gets frustrated training his new horse from the school, you’re there to help cool him down and find a productive way to retrain the horse. When he doesn’t perform well in a match or compares himself to you and your records, you remind him of how different your training was compared to his.

-You two become incredibly close through all of this.

-So it’s no surprise when you both decide to start meeting up outside of class to study together. Then you start meeting up to just hang out in his dorm room. Then you start treating him to sweet treats off campus. Then you start showing up to Heartslabyul’s tea parties.

-It was honestly only a matter of time before the two of you decided to make things official, and when you do, it’s incredibly easy!

-You both plan horse riding dates with each other and spend the majority of your time together talking about training techniques or studying for your upcoming tests.

-Him bringing you home to meet his horse was honestly a bigger deal than meeting his mother.

-He was afraid you wouldn’t find him as beautiful since you own Dashie, but you were absolutely in love with his old girl. She seemed to like you too, given she didn’t try to buck you off the second you claimed onto her back.

-He’s incredibly supportive of you at your own matches and your matches alongside him. 

-Now he’s proud of not only his skills, but you and yours as well, and he wouldn’t want it any other way.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #x reader #twst headcanons #riddle rosehearts #riddle rosehearts x reader

[kakashixhatakesxwhore]

Most to least experienced in bed? Konoha 11 and whoever else you wanna add. Love your work 😩😩

alrighty, i switched this up a bit to avoid strange research, if you wanna see someone else/another group ranking, lmk - i hope this is up to code, and thank you for the request!!

Sex Tier List

Ranked: Konoha 11 (Naruto, Sakura, Shikamaru, Ino, Choji, Kiba, Shino, Hinata, Neji, Lee, Tenten) + Sand Siblings (Kankuro, Temari, Gaara) + Sasuke

Warnings: swearing, x(GN)reader implications, we are talking about sex, uh idk lmk if something makes you uncomfy

Notes: Boruto era for everyone, and, for everyone, their Bortuo era! this request had me fucked up lowk because, canonically, these mfs got zero action without rings - so we're putting an enjoyment spin on it, worst to best, in a modern-ish au. as in, who you would have to guide, vs, who could rock your world, five times over, in one night.

Masterlist💿

Tier 3 - Passable🪙

5. Hinata

I'm not even sorry. She deffo just lies there. Never gets on top. You have to ask for anything and everything, and not even in a sexy, teasing way, more in a 'I don't want to feel like I'm fucking a wooden board' way.

4. Kiba

May God love him because this man is certainly a selfish lover. That's not to say he isn't good - he's great at getting himself off, his brain just kinda shuts off otherwise. If you wanna cum, the onus is on you, because he's fuck-drunk within seconds of you touching him.

3. Kankuro

He's trying, okay?? It's just really fucking hard to keep you in mind when you just feel so fucking good. Kankuro's just inconsistent - that's the main issue. He'll try a million different positions in one session and is always unintentionally edging you.

2. Lee

Now, our darling, Rock Lee, is trying his best, honestly and truly. However, he doesn't know anything about anything, and you have to guide him every now and again. He's got the enthusiasm down, he's just not very good at translating it into pure sexual energy on the fly.

1. Gaara

He's too busy to be good at sex. When he does find the time, y'all get extra down and dirty, but Gaara's still lowkey inexperienced and the irregularity of your encounters doesn't help.

Tier 2 - Good🪩

5. Choji

Bro's got hidden talents, aight? It's a matter of him wanting to utilize them that sets Choji up. Most nights, he's chilling, but on those key few nights, hot damn.

4. Sasuke

I would've put him lower but y'all would've been mad - it's called REALISM. Sasuke would be wayyyyy too busy to put in the work to develop any actual skill in the bedroom, and he would find researching for it so far past disgusting. His good grace would be his natural endowment and prowess, but he's on thin fucking ice.

3. Tenten

Surprisingly stone top vibes, I cannot lie. She deffo gets off on your pleasure, but she's down here because she's kinda bad at first. There would totally be improvement, like obvious and quick improvement, but those first few times were pretty rough.

2. Shino

Baby boy. Sweet boy. Ugh. I love. I wanted him as number one, so I'm not even defending this. Take it up with my lawyer.

1. Naruto

He's not the main character for nothing. Naruto lays pipe, but he can get a bit selfish at times. Never fear though, the second he catches himself, lost in the sauce, another round gets added to his itinerary. He'll be making it up to you tenfold, even if it was just for a minute.

Tier 1 - Fantastic🔮

5. Sakura

With her level of anatomical knowledge, she barely even needs to break a sweat to give you a release. However, she will break a sweat, because she wants to. Just amazing, idk what to tell you.

4. Temari

Got me kickin my feet and twirlin my hair rn - she would be so GODLY in the sack. She's always very present, very attentive, but is so openly expressive in the moment. Temari would have you screaming syllables and seeing colours behind your eyelids.

🥉 Neji

The game my man's got is INSANE. I just know for a goddamn fact that no one dances the horizontal mambo as gracefully as Neji. You're pleased, he's pleased, no one's ever terribly tired or bruised, the limits are clear lines but are never even toed. That's just the reg, too! Special nights would be fucking wild, dude would have wine, and flowers, and candles - he would go the whole nine yards every time.

🥈 Ino

Be still, my beating heart. Christ. Yeah, Ino's got this shit on lock. She's a vers switch, need I say more? (I do, someone request a fic)

🥇 SHIKAMARU

Y'all seen my preferance yet, or nah?

Oh Em Gee - Shikamaru could have you, heels to Jesus, all night longgggg. The stamina, the will, the knowledge, the capability; it's all there, and no one is as apt to put it all together except for Shikamaru. He would go for hours at a time, until he physically couldn't anymore. He would know exactly what makes your timebomb tick, and he would push every button so deliciously. Fuck, he's a tease too. If you two aren't actively in the bedroom, he's trying to get you there.

#konoha 11 #konoha eleven #sand siblings #uzumaki naruto #naruto uzumaki #akimichi choji #choji akimichi #hinata hyuga #hyuga hinata #ino yamanaka #yamanaka ino #kiba inuzuka #inuzuka kiba #hyuga neji #neji hyuga #sakura haruno #haruno sakura #shino aburame #aburame shino #shikamaru nara #nara shikamaru #rock lee #rock lee naruto #tenten #uchiha sasuke #sasuke uchiha #kankuro #kankuro of the sand #gaara #gaara of the sand

[quincywillows]

a scattered and overall supportive review of percy jackson season 1

let me just say first of all, it's extremely fun to be enthused about a tv show like this again. the adaptation isn't perfect, but it's a lot of fun, and you can tell there's plenty of heart and good intention behind what they're doing. i'm very much enjoying tuning in every couple of episodes and catching up -- and avoiding the relentless commentary of the internet while i do so lol.

but now it's time for MY commentary!! to preface, i was a huge fan of the books when i was younger, am a stalwart long-term advocate of the original five books as some of the best children's lit of our lifetime, but i also enjoyed the films a decade ago for what they were and think people (including cough rick cough) are way too harsh about them. justice for logan lerman. anyway

i'm not going to do like a play-by-play, but in summary, here are my takeaways from the first season -- what i thought worked, what did not, and things i'm optimistic about going into the future seasons.

the good

for an adaptation of the original series (which, to be fair, i have not reread in years), i felt this was honest and faithful. there were tweaks, obviously, but none that took me too out of it or felt irredeemable. there was a lot to like about this show, so i want to start right from the top with my highest highs.

the worldbuilding / production design. i absolutely loved getting to see how they imagined certain iconic characters, locations, and sequences from the books. it was so exciting to get to see camp halfblood for the first time on screen (at least, in this adaption) -- that moment in episode two definitely felt like a turning point where we picked up from the somewhat laggy pilot episode. i especially loved the design of mount olympus, aspects of the underworld (hades and his upside down castle were baller, though how did percy and grover get up there lol; and i absolutely loved the choice for asphodel and the ghosts being rooted like trees, i never would've thought of that myself but it was so chilling and unique... just wish i could see it better through the terrible lighting, but we'll come back to that), and of course, camp. even down to the small details, like the camp beads... it's just very cool to see it come to life.

the casting. i wasn't sure about some of the casting when the news was breaking, but i'm very happy to have been pleasantly surprised all around (and have majorly avoided people bitching about every single thing). there wasn't any role where i felt like someone was horribly miscast, and you could tell that everyone involved really wanted to be there and committed. i thought the casting of the gods was especially inspired at times. some of the highlights for me personally:

adam copeland as ares. i had no idea he was apparently a wrestler turned actor until my sister told me, but i thought he was absolutely spectacular. very charismatic, with just the right amount of cringefail that ares needed. i found him thoroughly enjoyable in all his scenes.

lance reddick as zeus. having just played horizon zero dawn recently, oh my lorde was this an inspired choice. he was absolutely brilliant. i'm so so sad about his passing, i don't know how they're going to recapture his performance, but i have faith now that they'll find a way.

timothy omundson as hephaestus. i love that they took a softer, more mad scientist approach to his role than like ugly basement blacksmith vibes... i just thought it was really refreshing. his scene with annabeth, where we got so much humanity from him in such a short span of time, was one of my favorite scenes of the season.

jason mantzoukas as dionysus. i mean. what else can be said. obvious choice, but he was so fun lol. i hope they give him more to do next season.

other standouts beyond the main youth cast for me were jay duplass as hades (his brief appearance in 107 was thoroughly enjoyable) and dior goodjohn as clarisse (she was by far the acting standout of the first couple episodes to me). also very happy to see jessica kennedy parker and sinclair from the 100 get work, lol.

walker as percy jackson. it was really wonderful watching walker grow as an actor even just through the first eight episodes. the difference from 101 to 108 is almost night and day. you can tell how much he cares about the project and percy as a character, and he upped his game with every episode. i cannot wait to see what he turns out in the coming seasons. to be fair, i thought all of the youth cast did a decent job, and i'm giving them a lot of leeway and room to grow since they are literally child actors -- it takes time to hone your craft, and im optimistic they're all going to do a great job as the series goes on. but walker was, definitively and thankfully as the protagonist, the standout.

charlie bushnell as luke. i was so excited when i heard he got cast because i loved him in diary of a future president, and he did not disappoint. i kind of wish he had more to do, but all of that was forgiven in the finale when he had his final confrontation with percy. oh, the acting popped off then -- i can't wait for him to get to chew up the scenery more in the coming seasons.

grover and percy's friendship. it was so sweet to see this come alive, and i thought walker and aryan had excellent natural chemistry together. they were so endearing, and i really believed their friendship basically from the start (them swapping their sandwich fillings is a tiny detail from the pilot that has stuck with me since; i just loved that choice so much). they definitely provided a lot of my favorite moments in the season, and i think evoked the most genuine "aw wow" moments from me.

percy's relationship with sally. since sally was, understandably, absent from the original novel, it was awesome to get the flashbacks here that allowed us to more deeply understand their bond. i thought walker and virginia did a great job with this, and the young actor who played little percy also did a surprisingly great job (he was actually one of the stronger youth actors in the pilot imo lol). you totally understood why percy was doing everything he was, because that mother-son bond felt believable. big shout-out to the absolutely baller line "i am sally jackson's son." one of the first writing moments where i was like oh snap!

the music. a good score really can't be understated, and this one did not disappoint. did just what it needed to do. i also loved the closing title sequence and the art direction there with the epic music -- just such a nice touch that i'm so glad they included.

some of the writing. i'll get more into some of my qualms with the writing below, but there were definitely some great moments that deserve their flowers. i thought they did a great job weaving in some early themes without being heavy-handed about it (percy having to define who he is for himself, mostly). there were some genuinely funny moments that made me laugh out loud, including "i am impertinent," annabeth's "i'm multitalented," and the entire exchange on the road side when the trio to ares are like no... we're fine... ahaha bye... oh and percy trying to drive the taxi out of the garage at the casino was absolutely hysterical.

pivotal scenes hitting their mark. when the show needed to deliver, i thought they really delivered. i absolutely loved the staging and acting in the final luke and percy confrontation -- the lighting of the fireworks was such a cinematic touch. percy's arrival at olympus and scene with zeus was also a big standout. i loved a lot of the st. louis arch episode, and thought the hephaestus golden chair sequence was really well done. overall, the episodes i thought were strongest were without a doubt 104, 105, and 108.

expansion where expansion was welcome. one of my favorite aspects of the series is how it's giving more nuance to the monsters and "villains" of the books. i loved that we got a little more motivation for alecto beyond evil -- that she clearly wanted to accomplish her own mission and retrieve the helm, whether out of loyalty or fear. i loved how medusa got much more depth and humanity, that we're sort of reexamining the fairness of how myths are told rather than just taking it all at face value. i'm really looking forward to seeing how that continues in the next seasons.

the decent

percy and annabeth. to be fair, i think my issue with this is more on the fan reaction than the show itself. i think the show is doing a decent, if somewhat awkwardly paced job, of building their friendship and offering small little hints of what could blossom in the future in classic youth awkward ways -- unexpected hugs, banter, etc. i think walker and leah are both doing a good job, and i look forward to seeing how it develops. but my god, people on the internet are really jumping the shark so hard here. i can't handle seeing more "uwu percy is in love" posts when it's like. y'all. THEY ARE 12. THEY JUST MET. LET THEM ORGANICALLY BECOME FRIENDS FIRST... i just hope the creators don't feed into that and also jump the shark. like yes, we all know where this is going, but can't we enjoy the actual journey to get there instead of forcing what isn't there yet? in any case, on the positive side, some of the moments between them i really enjoyed: the conversation on the train when grover was asleep, the hephaestus chair sequence, annabeth giving him her camp beads before going to olympus (that was a slay... that was a legendary slow burn start moment worth hyping up), the way percy smiled at her in their last scene... that's the good stuff. let's not rush through what we're getting folks. the water is fine.

lin manuel as hermes. here is the thing. i thought lin did a good job. i thought his casting was apt, and fun, and he did a great balance of hermes charisma and like, a darker edge. it's just... the thing about lin manuel is that he's lin manuel. and this is coming from someone who likes him, but it's like he shows up on screen and i'm just like. hey it's lin manuel. it's a bit of a "takes you out of the moment" stunt casting, but i'm not mad about it. i wouldn't call it a bad thing. hopefully it'll wear off (though i doubt it). i guess i'm just deciding that hermes is just lin manuel, which honestly, would kind of track.

the youth acting. mentioned this above, but again, some of that early delivery was rough. but i am giving a lot of grace, and i think they've already improved plenty in the first eight episodes. i felt the same way about shadowhunters back in the day when i thought kat mcnmara was hard to watch in season 1, but by season 3 she was my absolute favorite cast member and came so far. i have no doubt these kiddos will do the same. so very much looking forward to that.

the not so great

the pacing. this was definitely the weakest part of the story writing wise. it wasn't irredeemable, but it did hinder the first half of the show (which didn't lock in for me until about 104, when the stakes truly shot up at st. louis). and that also affected how dynamics and plot points were able to unravel. the biggest victim of this...

the luke reveal. from the start, i was worried about this. since luke was only really in episode 2, i had doubts about whether the reveal of his betrayal would be at all satisfying or earned. i don't know that i can speak on it for sure, since i knew what was going to happen as someone who read the books, but i still feel we should have gotten more of those luke-and-percy-bonding scenes and convos earlier in the series rather than tacked onto the finale as flashbacks. it worked there, but i think it could've been better. thankfully, all of that didn't hinder the delivery of the finale confrontation, which as i said, was a standout moment for me.

the fight scenes. with rare exception, i was pretty underwhelmed with many of the monster battles and confrontations this season. given that's such a huge gimmick of the novels, i hope they're able to revisit and polish up the pacing of these in the future... i just felt that scenes like the museum clash with dodds were so rushed and anticlimactic. or not even confrontations at all, like the scene with crusty. we got a bit more of this at the back half of the season, in the sword fights with ares and luke, but i wanted more of that epic feeling throughout. i'm hoping it's maybe just a budget concern and that it'll improve in the coming seasons -- especially as the bosses get bigger and the stakes get higher -- but i'm not sure i'm optimistic just yet.

some of the dialogue. it was... wooden, to say the least. i think the worst moments of this were when they were trying to force Kid Bants -- which just felt stilted in the earlier episodes -- and whenever they were explaining greek myths point blank to the audience. there were moments it worked, but many where it didn't, and i hope they flesh out how to better info dump in the future episodes. i didn't mind the change of having percy be more familiar with the myths and thus more aware, but they could afford to finesse how they relay that information to us in the audience without basically reading from wikipedia in percy's voice.

the ugly

oh my god i can't see. i can't SEE. this show went to the teen wolf academy of employing one lightbulb and it's actually criminal. there were so many scenes where i really wanted to see what was happening because the stakes were high or the scenery was so pivotal -- the entry into the underworld for the first time, the vastness of medusa's basement of stone, THE FIELDS OF ASPHODEL -- but the lighting was so god awful i legitimately couldn't see a thing. in asphodel i literally could barely see the trio's expressions, it was that bad / flat. the audience is smart, we understand it's dark out. we can suspend our disbelief so you can add some visibility to this thing. i was turning up my brightness constantly but it wouldn't go any higher. please, disney execs, rick, anyone -- GET ANOTHER LIGHTBULB. i'm losing key immersive aspects of the show to this and it's a bummer. when they were walking through waterland for the first time and annabeth was like "wow can you believe this craftsmanship" i was like i don't know, girl, I CAN'T SEE ANY OF IT. begging on my knees that they fix this next season.

well, that ended up longer than expected, but oh my gods it is so nice to be writing paragraphs about a tv show again. all in all, i'd say 7.5/10 from me in this first season. there's so much to be keen for here, and i'm really happy with how it's going so far.

friends and fellow demigods, what did we all think?

#percy jackson #pjo tv #pjo tv show #pjo series #pjo #idk what y'all are tagging with lol #maggie watches tv #maggie.txt

[rebeccathornewrites]

I have an MFA in writing, 5 years of therapy, and far too much time. buckle up for my analysis of Gayloy from burning shores

Ok the MFA is coming in 3 weeks, but WHOO BOY i have thoughts.

Click below for spoilers. DO NOT READ UNTIL YOU FINISH.

As a bi woman who writes lesbians professionally, I want it known that I was 1000% on board with them as a couple, and cleared literal days of my schedule to play it and confirm.

And I still don't think Aloy is ready for romance. I think The Kiss is the least plausible, and least enjoyable, of the three endings.

Let's dive into why.

It starts at childhood, as always.

Aloy has grown up an outcast. She relied on herself and Rost--and then Rost died, and it was just her. Every single chance she's had, she's rebuked romance. She wrote it off as "I'm saving the world" or "I just don't know how people work yet," but the reality is that she doesn't know HOW to rely on people.

Vulnerability is a learned skill.

I'll say it again. VULNERABILITY is a LEARNED skill.

Some people, those with healthy households, learn this skill early on, and practice it often. Those are the people we see giving everything of themselves to someone they love. They feel deeply, empathize well, and have happy relationships.

And then there's people like Aloy. Someone who was shown love from one person--and a whole lotta hate from the rest of them. Someone who grew up being told that she couldn't rely on a tribe--because if she failed the Proving, there wouldn't BE a tribe to rely on. Rost hoped for the best... and prepared her for the worst.

Then she dove into the world at large, and was presented time and time again with romance opportunities. The Sun King is the biggest one--obviously his infatuation ran deep, but of course it would, finding the one person in a whole kingdom who'd challenge him. She turned him down, and in her mind, she probably reasoned it away in a neat little box.

"I'm not like the other suitors he's met. He only likes me because I'm different."

This can be true.

"But he doesn't know who I really am."

This can be true--but it's also a defense mechanism. A barrier Aloy placed to protect herself from rejection. Because if she convinces herself these people don't really know her, it's easy for her to keep them at arm's length.

Easy to be the lone warrior.

We see the same kind of thing with Varl, hoping to follow her into the wilds. With Erend, so excited to see her, so irritated she doesn't reciprocate. Kotollo viewed her admirably, although I think his personality is a bit too subservient to truly challenge Aloy (essentially his commander) into the growth she needs.

Man after man demonstrated their affection, and she held them all at arm's length. For the good of the world, right?

So, okay. She's a lesbian--or at the very least, bi or pan. We can reason away the men, certainly, but she uses the same techniques with the women. Talanah, our fan favorite, was truly a perfect match for Aloy. Strong, resilient, excellent fighter. They progressed in the same way Seyka did--and yet, Talanah was deep in the throes of another man.

Which was probably a huge fucking relief to Aloy. Because if Talanah was after a guy... then she wasn't an option for Aloy.

Which means Aloy didn't have to do any intensive introspection to discover why they might be a good match.

She could wave Talanah away, and feel absolutely no remorse or grief when Talanah returned home. In fact, Aloy might have even left that experience feeling satisfied that she helped a friend--and be utterly oblivious to the chemistry they could have had.

This is how avoidant people--those who haven't learned to trust, to rely on others, to show vulnerability--experience the world.

And this is somewhat devastating, because Talanah's quest came at the exact time that Varl was teaching Aloy how to empathize, lean on people, be vulnerable for the first time in her life. Aloy didn't have to do it alone--and if Talanah had been in a position to receive it, I think they could have had a spectacular romance.

But it didn't happen.

So, we move on.

Aloy loses Varl, learns to lean on her friends, learns to let people in. This alone is spectacular character growth--but it's easy to have friends. Humans crave it. We need companionship, so once Varl laid the groundwork, Aloy was able to embrace this.

We don't see her embracing romance.

Until Seyka.

This is where the potential had me--and the execution lost me.

Because Seyka is presented as this fantastic option for Aloy--and the starving, desperate fanbase standing behind her. From the first interaction, I had high hopes. When Aloy says, "you must be confused," and Seyka basically responds with "confused about why you'd FLY towards that TOWER OF DEATH, maybe," I was ready for someone who challenges Aloy.

I wanted a love interest who was more competent than Aloy in some ways. I actually liked Varl in that way, before he found Zo: the fact that he challenged Aloy to push her own comfort level in order to embrace others was a great complement to Aloy's abrasive nature.

Seyka, while fantastic, almost feels like an Aloy clone.

They're both competent, capable, and closed-off. They're both hiding secrets to spare the others' feelings--when in reality, they're sparing themselves from tough conversations.

Because that's what Aloy, at least, has been trained to do. Bear the burden alone to spare the others. Fight the machine alone to keep the others safe. She protects fiercely, which means that she never has to be the one experiencing loss.

How convenient. >.>

I love the idea of Seyka. I can't wait to see where fanon takes her personality. But right now, with just the DLC content, it feels like she's the caricature of a romantic interest for Aloy. The perfect girl--in theory. But not when you consider psychology.

There was a huge missed opportunity when Aloy finally revealed Nemesis's existence, in my opinion. Aloy protected Seyka from this Big, Dangerous News to help her morale--and to keep from ruining what they've developed with something possibly devastating.

She finally told Seyka... and Seyka responded by literally fleeing the room in horror.

I get that everyone needs time to process these things. But in my mind, all that reaffirmed for Aloy is, "My instincts were right. I can't rely on others with this Big, Dangerous News. They can't handle it. So, I have to handle it for them."

There was SUCH an opportunity there. A chance for Aloy to tell her, and for Seyka to contemplate it for a moment, smile, and say, "I'm glad you told me. Let's tackle it together."

Something to show Aloy, in that concrete moment, that this is a person she can rely on.

That is what would have made Seyka great, to me.

Everything that followed after is a series of insta-love, in my opinion. Aloy looks at Seyka with near-literal hearts in her eyes, but it didn't feel earned. By the end, I don't feel like Seyka did anything unique that Aloy's friends in Forbidden West hadn't already done to her at some point: rescue her, adventure with her, stop a massive scheme with her.

Seyka, in my mind, doesn't currently have enough personality of her own to stand out. She's just another soldier in Aloy's army.

There will be [straight] people angry at the LGBT+ rep here, and I don't even feel that our community can argue it. As far as lesbian rep goes, that was not a great example of a natural romance. It felt forced for most of that DLC.

But that romance could be great. And that's where I love that the developers added options other than the kiss. As much as I loved the idea of them kissing, I still don't buy it with the scenes we were given.

Seyka latched onto Aloy because Aloy treated her with admiration at a time when Seyka's tribe nearly disowned her. Fair. I believe Seyka might truly be in love with Aloy.

But Aloy herself? There's no way in hell she'd be diving into a romantic relationship after one single adventure with this girl--even one as sweeping as this. Aloy doesn't know who Seyka is. Aloy hasn't seen Seyka in a relaxed setting--only one where she's panicking for her tribe, her sister, and the future. And Aloy's brain will be too logic-entrenched to succumb to emotional impulse alone.

Because that's the interesting thing about avoidant people. They rely on themselves, and their logic. That's what's kept them alive until this point. If Aloy showed vulnerability in the past, she put herself at risk in every sense of the word.

Even Seyka wouldn't be enough to break that barrier right away.

But I do think she could try in the sequel, and that's why I'm thrilled for this character. Someone the developers can truly use to force Aloy to grow emotionally.

To do that, though, the developers will have to dive into Seyka, and show me why she's the person for Aloy. What about her history makes her The Candidate? It can't just be that she's "an inspiration." I need more than that. I need to see Seyka in a relationship, coaxing Aloy through the moments of panic and shattering the barriers Aloy erects out of fear, under the guise of "logic."

Show me that, and I'm on board with a kiss.

Until then, I'll go write some fanfiction.

Sincerely,

An avoidant working through her own shit.

Thank you very much for attending my TED Talk.

#aloy #seyka #burning shores #the burning shores #sapphic #lgbt representation #horizon zero dawn #horizon forbidden west #horizon dlc #aloy x seyka #hfw spoilers #horizon #psychology #avoidant attachment #vulnerability #horizon burning shores

[twig-tea]

Love in Translation--Everyone Is Right This Show Is Great

Ok so I was convinced by these great posts by @bengiyo here and @lurkingshan here to catch up and prioritize this series.

But then I watched Minato's Laundromat s2 instead (which was a disappointment, bad decision).

And then I lied again and watched Only Friends ep6 as cough you may have noticed based on my posting this past 24hrs.

But now I'm finally actually keeping my word and prioritizing Love in Translation lol

And of course, they were totally right, this show is so good!

I'd already seen episode 1; it was chaotic but cute, and already established the older/younger brother dynamic as well as the chemistry between the two leads and the full cast of supporting characters--who bengiyo rightfully points out are delightful.

Episode 2 hits the ground running and the next few episodes flew by on my catch-up binge; as lurkingshan said, the pacing on this show is FAST and really enjoyable. With the absurd premise established they jumped right into character development and pining! I love a grumpy on the outside because he has too many feelings on the inside character, and Yang is perfect. He fell so hard so fast for Phumjai's sunshine charisma (which bengiyo is so right, is a rare breed of happy and energetic but not annoying). And I love that they've established pretty clearly that Phumjai needs someone to believe in him (hello, Dangerous Romance's Khaotung, I see you), and that Yang warming up and trusting him is going to be the thing to sway his heart. Yang clearly being aware of his feelings and helping Phumjai talk to Tammy anyway is giving me so much of the good kind of pain! I love a pining while helping my love interest with their romance because I am secretly a simp even though I seem cold character. Yang's tiny smiles give me life. And I also really love a smile through my pain because I desperately want to protect everyone around me at cost to myself character, so this show is really giving me everything I could want and then some.

Love in Translation is so good at earning every emotional response the characters give... lurkingshan talked about this in her pitch and I'm going to double down because this show keeps surprising me in the best way. Yang is not just jealous, he knows something. Phumjai is not just inexperienced, he's never been trusted to stand on his own or make any decisions for himself. There's a reason why Phumjai hesitates and why Yang pulls back. Every time there's a character decision that moves forward the plot that in any other show would be handwaved away, it's explained and given context and I am LIVING. I can't wait to find out why his brother is so overprotective, for example, because I now trust this show to give us that.

I can't talk about this show as much as I want to without spoilers so cutting the below for those who have been convinced but don't want to be spoiled. But for those who have not yet been convinced: Below the cut I talk about how this show queues up annoying narrative tropes to undermine them. I also just want to say while I'm still above the line, the chemistry between the two leads is excellent:

this show is very pretty (some really interesting shots and use of the store aisles for framing, as well as lovely colour grading):

the interpersonal drama is so far quite good at staying interwoven with actual work (I know absolutely nothing about running a mini mart but at least they do seem to do work in a workplace show, and at least some of the episodic challenges are about work/sales), and the comedy is not too slapstick. At least one side couple (involving Ngern! My beloved) has an arc clearly forming and I am hopeful the other will too.

And for you colour girlies, @respectthepetty has written brilliantly about the colours in this show meaning things (and already been proven right).

TL;DR Love in Translation is so far a really, really enjoyable viewing experience!

Oh hi! For the record, I will be potentially spoiling through episode 5. This is just me gushing about stuff that might be spoilery, don't expect any brilliance here lol

God I love how this show tees up tropes to undermine them. Tammy is an influencer, but Phumjai fell for her because they met in person and she made him feel competent and listened to. Tammy is a player, but Phumjai is aware and makes no demands. Phumjai made Tammy feel like someone really cared about her and so she decided to be serious about him (rather than Tammy playing into the evil woman stereotype). Yang is clearly already aware of his feelings, but decides to help and Phumjai go on a practice date, and doesn't hold back, AND gives the older brother a baller speech about letting people make their own choices. Phumjai isn't totally thoughtless about Yang during the practice date, he doesn't just focus on Tammy and chooses things Yang would like. And then when he goes on the date he doesn't sublimate, Phumjai realizes something is going on and goes to talk to Yang, who kisses him!!! Phumjai reacts badly and avoids Yang, but it's because he realizes he has a crush and thinks he needs to make it go away rather than because of gay panic. Yang starts pushing Phumjai away, but it's because he's literally under threat rather than because he's scared of having emotions, and he doesn't want to risk Phumjai's safety. And this also puts Yang's intensity, anger, and seriousness about the business and how its doing in context because (I think) he owes folks money and is very worried about being found before he can pay them back.

And because the show gives good reasons for why these characters have these reactions or make these decisions, the show is also able to explain when these reactions or decisions change! Yang doesn't just forget about his crush or his history with Tammy, she proves to him she's serious this time with her actions. Yang thought he was safe and he finds out he isn't, so he stops pursuing Phumjai.

What I'm really, really hoping for in the next ep: we know from the trailer that Phumjai bolts, I'm assuming because Yang says something unclear to push him away again, and Tammy finds him. I'm really hoping this gives Phumjai and Tammy a chance to air things out, and for Yang to realize he needs to be honest with Phumjai about what's going on so that they can ~please for once, BL gods~ face their troubles together!

Also can I just go off on a rant and say how much I love Phumjai? At first I was afraid he would be annoying either because he's so sunshine or because he's incompetent or both, but besides his obsession with Tammy (which I will admit at least is motivating for him lol) he is actually really dedicated to his job and works really hard. Love that Phumjai's recruits are already on his side and defend him to Yang, even moreso than Tag, Phumjai's so-called best friend (I am side eyeing you sir) does to Phojai.

Really holding onto hope that this show keeps surprising me because I'm really enjoying every time it does it!

#love in translation the series #love in translation #typed so i can stop thinking it #bl meta #everyone is right about this show so far: it's great!

[laureliciousdefinition]

Skirting | Jim Hopper X Reader

Summary: you wear a short skirt around Hop and he enjoys it, to say the least.

Rating: 18+!!!!!!! Minors DNI! Srsly

Warnings/tags: very smutty, basically porn with plot, afab genitalia description, brief mention of food, fingering, p in v sex, I think that’s it??

A/N: I’ve been in a bad writing slump recently, like I’ve got 4 different wips but I hate them all soooo I churned out this bad boy for everyone’s hopeful enjoyment. It’s not my best work, it’s not beta’d, but I hope u can all enjoy hopper going feral for a skirt :’)

▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰

Jim Hopper did not consider himself a man of fashion. If he wasn’t wearing his uniform, he rotated between a variety of flannel shirts and plain tank tops, save for his one “exciting” pink and green patterned button down that he saved for special occasions. That said, he most certainly was not a man of women’s fashion; he’d attempted to buy El clothes all of one time before realizing he knew nothing about what a teenage girl is supposed to wear. It wasn’t something he ever paid attention to- in the last several years when he was with a woman, he was more focused on getting her clothes off as quickly and efficiently as possible. That’s when you walked into the picture.

Upon moving to Hawkins, you quickly realized you were a bit more… in style, so to speak, than a lot of the ladies in town. You couldn’t blame them, it was a small town and trends took about five years to make it out there, and being from a larger city, you had more access to current styles. When you’d first moved there, you received several pointed stares from some women in your office who thought you showed too much leg or wore blouses that were too “over the top”. It didn’t bother you too much, however. You wore what made you feel comfortable and didn’t plan on changing that about yourself any time soon.

This confidence was what made you catch Jim’s eye. When you’d started going on dates, he liked how you were bold in what you did, be it with your opinions, your fashion, or whatever else. It drew him in to you, made him want to keep learning more and more.

So now, as you approached his car, he felt a jolt of heat straight up his spine. You looked amazing, to say the least; a black, long-sleeved shirt with loose arms was tucked carefully into a plaid skirt, your signature black tights (the ones the older women from the office thought were too gaudy for daytime wear) hugging your legs beneath it, and your feet tucked into sharp black heels. You looked beautiful, otherworldly- you always did in his eyes. And though he’d never considered himself a man that cared about what women wore, the length of your skirt and the consequent stirring low in his belly made him reconsider that sentiment.

He had to remind himself to get a grip as he got out of the car to open the door for you.

“You tryin’ to kill me before we even have dinner?” He said with a laugh, unable to help raking his eyes over you.

“Keep it together, Hop. I’m hungry.” You responded playfully before leaning across the seat and placing a kiss on his cheek. You muttered out an apology as you wiped the lipstick your smooch had left on his cheek.

The truth was: you knew you looked good. You’d spent more time than you were willing to admit getting your hair just the way you like it and took extra care applying yourself makeup. You’d been saving this new skirt for a special occasion, and decided a nice dinner with your favorite guy was as good a time as any. It was short- shorter than you usually went for, stopping around the middle of your thigh. But it hugged your curves like it was made for you, and you for it. And not only did you know you looked good in it, you knew it would drive Hopper crazy.

You had to admit, he held himself together extremely well throughout the dinner, considering the way you not-so-discreetly rubbed his ankle with your foot the whole time. It was fun teasing him and seeing how far you could push, and having (one too many glasses of) wine in your system only made you bolder.

His shell was beginning to crack though- you noticed as soon as he walked you to your door.

“Come in for a nightcap?” You’d asked him sweetly, leaning against your door. You reached a hand out to grab his and idly played with his fingers.

You knew his answer before he responded. “Can’t say no when you look at me like that,” he smiled down at you as you unlocked your door.

He settled himself into the small couch in your living room while you prepared him a drink. When you returned, you sat opposite of him, crossing your legs.

“Dinner was delicious,” you made conversation, letting the man sip and hum in agreement.

Hopper was doing his best to stay respectful. He kept his eyes trained clearly on your face in between sips of his drink. He definitely did not notice the way your skirt rode up when you crossed one leg over another, revealing even more of your clothed leg to him. Definitely not.

The two of you sat in a comfortable silence for a bit before you set your glass down on the coffee table in front of you. As you scooted closer to him on the couch, he did the same and opened an arm to you. Settling into his side, you draped your legs over his.

“You really do look amazing tonight,” he said quietly, cheeks pinking with a slight embarrassment at being vulnerable.

You angled your head up to smile at him. “I’m glad you think so, I tried,” you admitted with a laugh.

He ran his hand slowly up and down your outer thigh, gliding easily over the nylon. “You don’t have to try at all. I always think you look nice.”

You couldn’t hold back anymore. You placed your palm on the side of his head and drew him in for a long, pressing kiss. He returned the sentiment, pushing his mouth against yours with the slightest hint of urgency. His hand slipped to the crook of your knees and adjusted your bodies so you were beneath him, and your legs were slotted together.

A pleased hum escaped your mouth at this position change. Your hands dragged along his scalp and tangled in the back of his hair, attempting to pull him closer. While the sex was great, these sorts of kisses were undeniably your favorite. They were passionate yet tender, holding all the weight of what was to come. He kissed you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered; if you were to ask him, he would probably say you were the only thing that mattered.

He pulled away from your mouth to bury himself in the space between your neck and shoulder. He pressed languid, open-mouth kisses to your neck that made your cheeks burn.

“Been wanting to get my hands on you since you walked to my car,” he told you in between kisses, his hand coming to rest on your hip.

You giggled at this. “Yeah baby?” Was all you managed, already becoming impatient with your need for more more more. “Wanna move to my bed?”

He removed himself from your neck to smile devilishly at you, letting you know he felt the same. “Thought you’d never ask,” he stood, offering you a hand. You hoped he didn’t notice the way you had to steady yourself, feeling sober from the alcohol but positively drunk on him.

You led him to your bedroom, flicking on the dim beside lamp before laying down. You held his hands in yours and tugged, but he remained standing for a moment.

Faintly, you felt embarrassed under his gaze. “What are you doing?” You asked sheepishly.

“Just… lookin’ at you. Pretty thing.”

The simple words did a number on you. It made your heart flutter and you tugged on his hands once more, desperate for his mouth again. This time he obliged and returned to his previous position with your legs slotted within each other.

You continued kissing like you had been on the couch, though now there was a higher sense of urgency. Your breathing had picked up and the kisses had become sloppier, tongues tangled together. As you laid there, you felt a hand slip between the two of you and tug on your blouse.

Sitting up slightly, you pulled the shirt over your head, revealing a sheer, lacy white bra. The way his breath hitched was not lost on you.

“Can I take these off?” He asked, moving his hand to run it along your upper thigh.

Once you’d replied with a breathy yes, please, he moved so he was on up his knees between your legs. He reached up within the skirt and found the top of the tights, then began pulling them along with your panties down your legs.

“So soft,” he murmured when your legs were bare for him.

You lifted your hips for him to pull the skirt off, but he stopped you. “No, leave it on, you look so good in it.”

Once again you found yourself flushed, unable to form proper sentences.

He ducked towards your chest, placing soft kisses on the top of your breast that wasn’t covered by the cups. Resting on one elbow, he moved his free hand to trace up your inner thigh. He was moving infuriatingly slowly, and the irony of the situation was enough to make you laugh. You’d spent all night teasing him, riling him up, only for him to end up getting you embarrassingly wet from his kisses and gentle touches. Though as soon as you felt him brush his middle finger over your center, you didn’t particularly care anymore.

“Fuck, so wet for me already?” He asked, looking up at you.

“What can I say,” you half laughed, half huffed.

He chuckled quietly at how flustered you were before dragging his knuckle through your wetness once more. He repeated this a few times, coating his finger before slowly sliding it into you. You inhaled sharply, and he watched your face with intensity as he moved the digit in and out, in and out. The obscene noise it made only served to make him impossibly harder, his erection straining against his jeans. He added his ring finger, reveling in the way you shuddered and let out a soft moan.

After what felt like an eternity on your end, he removed his fingers gently and offered them to you. Your eyes closed as you sucked on them gently, tasting yourself. When you finished, he stepped off the bed and you propped up on your elbows to watch him.

“Gimme a strip tease,” you mostly joked, head lolling to the side with a grin.

“You wish.” The man responded, tossing his discarded shirt to the side.

You couldn’t help the way you clenched around nothing watching him undo his belt and step out of his jeans. This was far from the first time you’d seen him nude, but every time you did, you were reminded of just how big he is. Free from the confines of his briefs, his cock stood tall and aching, and it was enough to make you feel lightheaded.

He returned to the bed, this time positioning himself so you caged him with your legs. He pushed your skirt up for better access, the fact that it remained on at all making you feel extra naughty. Leaning up to press a decidedly tender kiss compared to the nature of the situation to your mouth, he slid himself into you with a breathy gasp.

You sat like this for a moment, allowing yourself to adjust to the size of him. You locked your eyes onto his and placed your hands on his thick biceps before nodding a go-ahead.

He moved slowly at first, drawing out each pump. “Fuck.” He’d uttered, feeling the way you were so incredibly warm and tight around him.

Once he began picking up the pace, you were unable to contain the borderline-pornographic noises escaping your mouth. He was hitting so deep within you you were seeing stars. You couldn’t help raking your nails along the sides of his shoulders and the top of his back.

“You knew what you were doing, didn’t you?” He panted out. “Wearing that little skirt all night, knowing I’d wanna fuck you the second I saw it.”

You whined in response to the filth spewing from his lips. You loved when Hopper started rambling during sex.

His pace picked up once more, and by now he was drilling into you. The pressure in your lower stomach was starting to build, but you willed yourself you hold off and draw this out as long as you could.

“You know you drive me fuckin’ crazy,” he muttered, a hand slipping under the small of your back to lift your hips more.

With the new angle, you pressed your head further into the pillows. “God-shit, Hop. Feels so good,” you rambled out.

Through his moans you heard a laugh. “I know it does baby. You feel, fuck, feel amazing,” he pressed his forehead to yours.

You moved a hand from his bicep down to your clit, circling it with enough pressure to make your eyes squeeze shut. When he noticed this, you felt his hips stutter and his pace falter.

“Touchin’ yourself for me, pretty girl?” He asked, pulling you even closer with the hand under your back.

“I’m so close baby,” your words come out rushed and breathy. In a different scenario you would’ve made fun of yourself for how corny you sounded, but you didn’t have it in you to care at this point.

He did his best to keep up his pace as he gently nudged your hand off of your clit and replaced it with his thumb. He circled gently, and you felt yourself flutter around him.

“That’s it, let go. I got you.” His tender assurances combined with the overwhelming sensation of his dick and hands were too much.

You came hard around him, a long, drawn out moan leaving your chest. Your back arched up and your vision went white, the only thing grounding you being your death grip on his bicep. He wasn’t far behind, giving you three solid, drawn pumps before finishing deep inside you. He was spewing more filth, though you couldn’t process anything he was saying with how hard you were reeling after your orgasm.

Once you’d both come down, still tangled in each other’s limbs, you laughed quietly.

“So I forgot to ask, did you like my new skirt?”

▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰

Feedback/interactions are always appreciated<3

#jim hopper fanfic #jim hopper oneshot #jim hopper smut #jim hopper x reader #jim hopper x you #hopper stranger things #stranger things smut #stranger things x reader

[nyhti]

Brief and incomplete headcanons about Jonathan and Jervis

Okay, so, yeah. Like I said, there's a whole essay's worth of background info missing here, because it was too long and convoluted, so I've had to simplify things A LOT. Not everything will make sense without all that lost context, but I hope it's still enjoyable.

-So right off the bat, this is the spot where you'd really need all that background info, but here's a very very brief and dumbed down explanation for what was going on with Jonathan before he ever talked to Jervis: A. Jonathan didn't want to talk to people, because they might bully him. B. He still wanted friends. C. Out of everyone at Arkham, Jervis seemed the least likely to be a bully.

-And for Jervis it's: A. He had friends in the past, but lost them after becoming the Mad Hatter. B. Even when he was just Jervis and not a criminal, those friends were hard to come by so... C. He didn't think he'd have another friend again.

- At Arkham Jonathan starts to observe Jervis from a far to try and see if he's niceys or meanies. He sees that Jervis never acts in a threatening manner. Really, he's very polite and seems to avoid conflict. And not even Jonathan, who could be blown away by the slightest summer breeze, could find Jervis psychically intimidating. Jervis is 2/3 his size and clearly not fit. The fact that Jervis is conventionally unattractive also makes Jonathan feel more at ease. He feels Jervis might not judge him for his appearance, because Jervis must have faced struggles in his life due to his small size. He feels Jervis could understand him. And if all that wasn't enough, Jervis spends just as much time in the library as Jonathan and we all know how important books are to Jonathan.

-Jonathan gathers courage for weeks before he actually manages to start a conversation with Jervis. I think Jervis doesn't immediately understand why Jonathan is trying to talk to him. I think in relationships in the past he has always been the one to approach people, because people don't tend to approach him. No one's looked at him and thought: ”Oh, I'd like to get to know this guy!” No, he's always been the one to do the initiate. That's why he doesn't even know what to feel when he finally realizes Jonathan is trying to befriend him, that Jonathan looked at him and thought: ”Oh, I'd like to get to know this guy!”

-Their first conversations are very awkward. Jonathan is very behind on social skills due to being isolated as a child and while Jervis is a little better, he's not exactly great either. Lots of awkward silences, lots of stuttering, lots of blushing, lots of saying the wrong things. None of that really matters though, because they are both very excited to have someone to talk to. Jervis is the second friend Jonathan has ever had in his life and Jervis, like I said, never thought he'd have friends again.

-They both put a lot of work into this relationship. It's not something that just started one day and has been great ever since. No, there have definitely been some ups and downs. I don't feel like writing about any particular incidents, because that would take too long, but I think that you can understand that two people with very little regard for the well being of others might end up hurting each other as well. The only reason that they are best friends now, is that they both wanted this to work, they both wanted a friend and they were willing to put in the work to reach that goal.

-And through all their struggles they have somehow managed to build so much trust, that they are able to talk about even very painful things. They are able to open up about things they have never felt safe to open up about before. It's very healing.

-Jervis might seem childish at first, but at least in my verse, he's one of the most mature rogues. The apparent childishness is really just him not being afraid to be a little silly and also sometimes a guise to fool people. He's a lot more self-aware and intelligent than people assume. It's that maturity that attracts Jonathan. Talking with people like Joker and Eddie can sometimes feel like talking to toddlers with behavioral issues, so it's very relaxing for Jonathan to sit down with Jervis and really talk like an adult to another adult. There isn't a topic they can't discuss in civil terms. They can just sit and talk all night long and that is something they both enjoy.

-Both are well read and both appreciate that in each other. They both have a thirst for knowledge and learn a lot from one another. They definitely have a book club of sorts where they read a book and then meet at either Jervis' place or the Arkham library to discuss it.

-Jervis helps Jonathan out a lot in his financial struggles. Jonathan is always welcome at Jervis' if he doesn't have a roof over his head. Jervis will also pay him for helping out with gadgets and capers, but Jonathan is not particularly found of this type of work. Either he's breaking his back lifting heavy equipment for Jervis or he's breaking his mind being the test subject for his mind control headbands. Jervis pays well though and cooks for him too.

I think what I find appealing about this relationship is the maturity of it. A lot of friendships between rogues will make me feel like I'm reading about 9-year-olds, not 40-somethings, what with the near constant drama and friendship breakups. I like how chill Jon and Jerv are in comparison (at least in my verse). Though, I suppose that that's the exact reason I don't do a lot with this relationship and why it's so underdeveloped in my verse – nothing much happens in it. There isn't much to write about. They're just having tea and talking about literature.

#and you know what that's beautiful #scarecrow #jervis tetch

[lushaletta]

a room invasion / james potter

pairing: james potter x fem!reader

warnings: none

summary: waiting for james to finish quidditch practice while you were in one of his own jerseys was starting to be a daily routine. (wow i suck at writing summaries)

a/n: i’m writing james because he is my beloved ?? this is also super short so apologies, i hope it’s still enjoyable to you!

⋆ ࣪.  ⁺⑅ ⋰˚ *.ﾟ .˳⁺⁎˚ ˚⁎⁺˳ . ༺ ˖࣪ ˖࣪ ∗

It was ridiculous, really. Unnecessary and maybe impractical. Yet, it was beginning to be a daily routine. Coming to James’ dorm instead of your own, while he was at Quidditch practice after you got dismissed from your last class. You’d slip on one of his shirts, then lounge around until he finished.

Yes, you could very well stay where you should; your room, which was made for you. But something about being in his, wearing his jersey, the casual domesticity of it, was too good to resist.

And that afternoon was no different from the previous ones that month.

The Potions essay you were working on seemed far less important than it should have, your mind focused on James. You missed him, though perhaps you shouldn’t have. You’d seen him in all your classes that day, but contact was limited to stolen glances and quick kisses during passing period.

So you continued to write about the effects of Garrotting Gas, even if it were the least of your interests at that moment.

It had gotten fairly dark outside, the sun starting to set and the sky becoming a sea of pinks and oranges. You were even more bored than you were an hour ago, and you were considering leaving to go to the Quidditch Pitch and watch James.

But then the door swung open, the low creak being the best sound you’d heard since hearing James’ voice that morning.

“It seems there’s someone invading my room.”

You jumped up, mood brightened. “Yeah, and it seems you’ve given said invader a key,” you said, dangling the spare set of keys that he gifted you.

“What can I say? I’m a generous man.” He walked over to you, finally giving you the kiss you’d been craving the whole day. Your heart raced, it was the perfect kiss.

You were satisfied. “Man? I think you mean boy,” the tilt of humour in your voice caused him to smile.

A scoff. “What boy has these muscles?” He pulled his jersey up, exposing his toned body that he had Quidditch to thank for.

You rolled your eyes, pretending to be unimpressed. “Whatever.” But your own face betrayed you, a slight grin painting your expression.

“Yeah, ‘whatever’. Don’t think I don’t know that you’re wearing my shirt right now,” James retorts, and it was his turn to roll his eyes.

“Shut it. It’s comfortable!” you argued. Then you turned around, covering the “Potter” printed on the back of the fabric, a teasing smirk on your lips that he couldn’t see.

The essay you were working on laid long forgotten, but that was okay. Slughorn could wait. As long as there’s James.

Another scoff. An amused one. “Hey, don’t hide it. I think you look good wearing my last name.”

He was only trying to humour you, but his words make your cheeks heat up nonetheless, and you’re suddenly extremely grateful that you’re not facing him. If he saw just how flustered he got you, you wouldn’t hear the end of it.

“I hate you, Mr. Potter,” you said, your fond tone not matching what came out of your mouth.

“And I love you, Mrs. Potter,” he replied.

You groaned in fake annoyance. “Ugh, that’s so sweet. You’re such a sap.”

Turning to him once again, James took the opportunity to plant an even sweeter kiss on your forehead. You squealed, feeling a little cheated.

His dark curls were messy from practice, irrevocably yours. And you almost liked him better like that. A little untidy. He’s pretty. You’re lucky, you think.

He shrugged, “Some say it’s my biggest character flaw.”

#🎞 by.ivy #harry potter imagine #hp imagine #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #harry potter oneshot #james potter #james potter fanfiction #james potter oneshot #james potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter fluff #marauders oneshot #marauders #marauders fanfiction

[tenebrius-excellium]

I don’t know how this narrative principle is properly called in English but today I finished reading an academic paper on “backend vs. frontend motivation” in stories and I am nerding off big-time.

One of the most important elements of modern media to me, especially in film, is for it to be motivated from the ‘front’, that means from the beginning. You gotta have a starting conflict so well fleshed out that it justifies all which comes next in a domino chain of such bulletproof logical consequence that it cannot be questioned until it inevitably culminates in the grand, satisfying finish. Only then is an ending good and only then can it be truly enjoyable.

The best example of which that remains to this day is How To Train Your Dragon.

In my opinion this movie leaves no room for a different ending. Were it to be replayed thousands and thousands of times, it would always unfold the same way. It’s that solid. Solid in its core conflict, in its character designs, in its stakes. It would choose to happen the exact same way again every time. Everything is in-universe consistent and character-consistent to a T. I believe luck, or chance, played a role in the creation of this movie because humanity is just not able to think up something as perfect as this on purpose.

While the sequels are - generally speaking - good, the failure to recreate the artistic mastery of the first movie can be seen in them. Glimpses of the original magic do appear more often than I had feared, which pleasantly surprised me for both the second and the third movie. However, both sequels have obvious weak points. The first movie has none. None. It’s somehow flawless.

I attribute its success to strong frontend motivation. There is an age-old war yet it threatens the current generation’s survival as acutely as it did on the first day. The People are tired and it’s either the annihilation of the enemy or resigning themselves to poverty and death. Berk is backed into a strategic corner and while Stoick is far from giving up, he doesn’t know where to take fresh ideas from. The absurd third possibility of talking peace with the dragons comes from the innocence of a child human and a child dragon. The grown-ups couldn’t have done it, yet so unexpectedly balance is achieved. It’s brilliant.

Httyd1: Shitty war -> needs to end (peacefully if possible, because the vikings are not bad people...but Stoick doesn’t see hope). + DRAGONS.

Httyd2: Hiccup Will Be Chief, therefore let’s throw some growth at him and kill off Stoick so that the two won’t fight about how to run the village later (because that would be in their characters).

Httyd3: The Dragons Will Leave, therefore let’s create an artificial villain, and a convenient dragon girlfriend, and make Toothless ooc to achieve it.

See, Httyd gradually declines into using backend motivation and that’s why the third movie works even less than the second. At least Httyd2 had a strong middle, that is, from Flying With Mother til Hiccup starts talking to Drago. Don’t make the mistake of buying into the rest: Nowhere was the topic of Hiccup becoming Chief even a thing before Httyd2. Also, Hiccup behaved ooc with his sole focus on dragons (at the so-uncaring-that-it-must-be-intentional expense of humans) and the no-kill rule. And Stoick died not from a plasma blast, but for plot convenience.

The third movie, in turn, gave Hiccup his original character back and bestowed a glow-up onto him and Astrid and their relationship, but at the cost of Toothless’ personality and backstory... and the general in-universe logic, such as Grimmel’s hollow arc (stressing his intelligence when he’s clearly NOT). You see, both movies have their strengths, but it just doesn’t work when the creators think up the ending first and are willing to bend everything else, however painfully, to achieve exactly that desired ending.

The newest marvel of frontend motivation done right is of course Puss in Boots: The Last Wish. The reason why it’s just so good is because the arc of Puss eventually losing his lives was not a forced narrative, simply conjured up to Have Puss Do More Jiggling On Screen. It was an innate part of his self, already there in his character from the start, and was inevitably going to become a problem some day. The creators made the most of it by dealing with it not after 8 more daring adventures that were clearly fabricated to generate money in theaters (what a nightmare to think about), but by insinuating that Puss has already lived some of those lives, giving him depth. Because we have not seen all of them, yet our famed hero has been shaped by them.

One could argue that the quest for the Wishing Star was a little too cheap of a narrative. But Puss has been a serious character stuck in a world full of dumb magical creatures and artefacts before. That’s literally the universe he lives in. So it works. And ohh, how magnificently it works.

So anyway. Front-end motivation, people. Has usually better characters too because the plot is tied to their consistency. It makes the ending of their story depend on themselves, not on ex-universe tinkering or budgets. Use it more, please and thank you.

#httyd #httyd2 #httyd3 #httyd franchise #analysis #httyd analysis #puss in boots 2 #puss in boots the last wish #wherethekiteflies #storytelling #yup I like this; this may be one of my best posts yet

[the-fiction-witch]

Mrs Dawkins P14 - P17

Media The Artful Dodger

Character Jack Dawkins

Couple Jack X Reader

Rating Sweet + Flirty

Series: Mrs Dawkins

P1 - P5 P6-P10 P11-13

I blushed but nodded, he came over and offered his hand.

"Would the lady like to take a walk in the moonlit gardens?"

"I would love to sir." I giggled as I took his hand, he helped me up and we walked down the porch steps and into the garden, as much as I wanted to hold his hand I did put some space between us as we walked.

Our feet made their way through the grass, past the flowers and sweet statues of the garden, lit only by the pale moonlight and the fiery glow from the windows of the house, 

"How long do you think they'll fall for it?"

"A while I suspect," he chuckled, "People always seem to trust me," 

"I suppose you're a very trustworthy-looking man,"

"It's a perk of being a doctor," he winked, 

"I suppose so,"

"So? May I ask what you do when you're doing when you're not doing this?"

"Ohh, Drawing."

"Drawing? Drawing what?"

"Anything, I find the form particularly facilitating."

"Do you?" 

"Umm every subject is different I love to draw, and differences to use the lines and shadow to sculpt the muscles, the bones, all the little intricacies that make us function." 

"Really?"

"Umm," I nodded, 

"I bet you'd find surgery fascinating." He smiled, "Peeling away at everything until you see the very building bricks of people."

"I imagine I would,"

"Anything else?"

"My father likes for me to sing, and play piano."

"Ohh? You don't?"

"Not really. I find it boring."

"That's fair I suppose," He chuckled, "But I'd love to know what your life was like... before you came here?"

"Ohh, Well we lived in London before then Father made his money in shipping. Ran his business for many years, and figured he could make a killing down here, so down here we moved. We haven't been here long still getting used to the place, but I hope at least now I have some more freedom to go out and see the place." 

"That's sweet, I'd love to show you around one day."

"It's alright I wouldn't want to take you from your work."

"It's no trouble I'd love to." 

"Perhaps one afternoon," I blushed, 

"You don't much look like your mother," 

"Oh?"

"You two hardly look anything alike."

"ohh... Uhh you mean the lady-"

"Yes?"

"That is not my mother," I chuckled,

"Oh?"

"she's my governess"

"Ohh Forgive me I-"

"It's alright. Miss Hardcastle My governess since I was a child."

"I see, So where's your mother?"

"Buried back in London." 

"I'm so sorry Y/n," He said taking my hand,

"It's alright, long time ago." I said, "But I would like to know about you if you'll allow me?"

"Of course," He smiled as we continued to walk, "Well, not much to say joined the Navy at fourteen, stayed there for ten years and worked my way up to surgeon lieutenant before I left." 

"Oh Impressive," I giggled, "under?"

"Captin Grimm, a Splendid man, took a lot of pity on me." 

"Young though to have retired?"

"I fancied a change, and I could be of far more use around here." He smiled, 

"I suppose that's true," I nodded, "You like it here?" 

"I find it very palatable" he chuckled, "do you it here?"

"So far, it's been very pleasant." I nodded, "I admit helped by your kindness,"

"My kindness? Well, I am thrilled to have made your time here more enjoyable." he smiled, "How is your hand?"

"Much better now,"

"Good, I half expected you in your pearls tonight."

"I considered it, was told it would be too much."

"Fair enough, I must admit you do look mesmerizing."

"Ohhh... Thank you, Jack." I blushed, "You do look incredibly handsome too." 

"My, I shall treasure such a compliment from such a lovely lady." He smiled, "I did my best, not used to this sort of thing."

"Well, you impressed me all the same."

"I did?"

"Very much,"

"I'm glad, this is the only shirt I own where the sleeves aren't stained with blood so bear in mind you will likely never see me like this again." 

I giggled, "That's alright I prefer your other clothes anyway."

"You do?" He smirked,

"Ohh well I uhhh-" 

"I think you've looked beautiful every time I've seen you," he smiled, "But tonight you are impressive."

"Thank you," I blushed, I spotted a small stone bench in the garden so I went and sat down for a moment, he came over and sat down beside me slipped off his jacket to sit it beside him, 

"So, your father has any boys he's planning on having you see?"

"I don't think so, I'm sure there will be men tonight having since danced with me who will go to Father with their intentions and they'll visit in the coming days," I explained, 

"Do you have any plans on telling your father, about any men who have taken your interest?"

"Perhaps." 

"Perhaps?"

"Perhaps," I giggled, 

"Will I be on that list?" he asked, 

"Outspoken, aren't you?" 

"Why bother with dancing around the point?"

"I suppose," I smiled looking up to the orange tree over my head, I reached up to grab an orange but  my fingertips only just graced the bottom, He chuckled and plucked it for me handing me or orange, "Thank you," I smiled, 

"You're welcome, So? Will I be on the list of boys you talk to our father about?"

I nodded sheepishly, "I can remove you if you'd prefer."

"No, no I'd love to be included," 

"You would?" I asked peeling the orange and starting to eat a couple of segments offering him some too,

"I would." he nodded taking a couple too, "In fact if you'd let me? I'd like to talk to your father."

"you would?"

"I would." He nodded, "Would you allow me that?"

"You do not need my permission." 

"No, but still I am asking for it." 

I blushed hard but smiled. "Then I grant it, happily."

"Is it something you'd want?"

"Very much." I nodded, "But I do not wish to burden you with-"

"I want to. Very much." He said taking my hand in his and making me drop the orange peel, "Y/n there is something about you that I can not deny, I have attempted to conceal it, to refuse it, but here I am outright accepting it. You have unnerved me more than any other woman I have ever met, I want to see you again. That much I am certain."

"I admit I feel the same, there seems to be an energy between us that I cannot name or place, I cannot refuse it, not at all, I am beyond certain that I want to see you again."

"I wish we could, but it pains me..."

"Why would it pain you?"

"Becuase I know if I do, these feelings will long grow."

"I do hope they would,"

"I know they would. every new thing I learn about you feels like an etching on my heart,"

"Ohh Jack," I smiled 

"I want us... to be so much more."

"I- I do too." 

"But I know nothing can come of it."

"Why ever not?"

"The world will never allow us to marry, y/n." He whispered, 

"You misjudge my family," I blushed, "My father will allow me to marry whatever man makes me happy,"

"Then do I? make you happy?"

"Very much Jack," I smiled, "He cares only for my joy, and for the social rules. Providing all rules were followed he would have no problem with us."

He chuckled, "I am not too good at following rules." 

"There would not be many, but would you try? for me?"

He smiled and stroked my cheek his callus fingers moved across my skin which made my heart flutter, "For you?" He asked, "I would do anything," he cooed before he moved and ran the tip of his nose against the bridge of my own our foreheads together, My eyes fluttered shut my hands held his and his upper arm, sighing in a sweet joy, feeling my heart race at the mere object of our proximity. "Would you grant me to break one rule tonight?"

"Which one?"

"Let me kiss you." 

"Absolutely," I smiled, 

he needed no other word, closing the gap between our lips for a soft and slow kiss. His lips were slightly chapped but smooth, I could taste the orange on his lips still, smell the sweet scent of his aftershave, the feeling is soft skin against my own, I closed my eyes enjoying every sensation, he pulled back our kiss only lasting a few seconds but we both knew it felt like more, He lingered close as we both took back our breaths. 

"Oh my..." I blushed, 

"Better then I had imagined." He smiled,

"So you imagined?"

"so many times,"

"As did I."

"It succeeded mine, beyond any imagination, did I-"

"You did. More the I had ever thought." I smiled, "Jack... You're kisses, though lasting a second made me feel like we had travelled to the moon and back." 

"As do yours y/n." He smiled, "Will you let me take you again?"

"A thousand times more," I smiled closing the gap between us, 

We kissed, slowly and sweetly with such admiration, without lust but longing, like we couldn't bear for this to end, our lips moved back and forth to kiss over and over, each kiss caused butterflies in my stomach, fireworks in my mind, I wanted nothing more than to touch him, to be connected with him in every day we could, as crazy as it sounds like I wanted to climb inside and be one with him.... god that sounds nuts but it's truly how I felt. and clearly he felt the same as our energy matched perfectly his hand slipped from my face to hold my hands in his in front of our chests. I felt so heavenly that my heart I could see the world burning around us and still I would smile. I could have kissed him forever. 

but... 

From behind him, we head a cough. 

I pulled back in surprise hearing a loud cough, and quickly moved my hands away from Jack's, as soon as I opened my eyes I saw her.

Miss Hardcastle, stood having approached us in the garden, given the timing of her cough and her... very unhappy look. She had undoubtedly caught us. 

Jack was confused I assume having not heard the cough as he looked disappointed, upset when I had so suddenly ended our kiss and now looked as if I wanted nothing to do with him. But he noticed my eyes and glanced over his shoulder, and he jumped as he saw her there immediately the colour drained from his face as he too realized... 

We're fucked. 

My mind began to spiral in panic, she was the most rule-abiding etiquette-driven person I had ever met, she would surely tell my father and Jack and I would never be allowed near each other again. 

She cleared her throat again and stepped closer, "I think Miss Everset has had enough air now doctor, You best head inside wouldn't want you to miss the party."

"Yes of course." he nodded, He gave me a faint smile before he took his coat and stood up, as he past her she handed him a white handkerchief from the pocket of her dress, clearly for him to wipe my slightly smudged lipstick off his lips, he took it and headed back through the garden towards the house, 

Miss Hardcastle merely stood there watching me, giving me no place to turn. She waited silently until Jack was out of earshot. 

"Y/n."

"Yes miss?"

She moved and sat on the bench in Jack's place, she took my hand in hers. "Was this moment consensual?" 

"What?" I asked,

"Was the moment I just witnessed consensual?" 

"It was," I nodded, I knew it would be worse to lie to her, "It was consensual."

"Was it reciprocal?"

"Yes."

She nodded, 

"Will you tell my father?"

"Tell him what?"

"About what I and Dr Dawkins were -"

"Why would I tell him about the doctor helping you catch your breath?" She asked giving me a small wink "But we should head back now." She said 

"we should," I nodded, 

She helped me up and we walked arm in arm back towards the house, "Mr Dawkins?" She asked, 

"Dr Dawkins," I corrected,

"Ohh I see. Royal College?"

"Ex-Navy."

"Ohhh... Your father will certainly like him."

"I hope so." I blushed, 

"You know his... particular mix of Sandy Cove and Caramel Drizzle does seem, familiar to me." She smiled wickedly 

I blushed to think of the two paint colours I had combined on my painting a few days ago to mix into Jack's hair, 

"From a recent... Easel." 

"Perhaps." I blushed, 

"I see, What shall we entitle this painting then?"

"Jack."

"Jack, I see." She nodded as she returned me to the house and the party,

I did a few more dances with the men who still wanted them, but the evening was mostly dying down, I did spot a nervous Jack being a wallflower to the party and I simply smiled at him which calmed him considerably, until it came time like any party where people seem to leave almost all at once, so father and I stood between my father and Miss Hardcastle close the door and bidding goodbye to many guests, my hand was even getting tired from all the kisses. But I did my best to hide my blush as Jack approached having put his jacket back on and clearly trying to hide his own blush. I did notice as he approached Miss Hardcastle shot me a look almost questionable as if silently asking 

'This the one?' and I nodded in return, 

"It was a perfect evening Mr Everset, I thank you greatly for allowing me an invitation." He smiled 

"Of course, of course, my good man. You took such good care of my Y/n when we visited the hospital, always best to keep a doctor in the good graces." 

"Quiet right sir, but truly I had an amazing time you must invite me to your next event."

"Oh you'll be on our guest list I'm sure" 

Jack then turned his attention to me as politely as he could, "I thank you greatly for inviting me Miss Everset, I wouldn't have missed it for the world. It was an absolute pleasure to witness your debut and our dance is something I shall truly treasure."

"As will I Dr Dawkins," I smiled, He gently took my hand and kissed it sweetly but as his hand slipped away I realized he had left a note in my hand, I hid it as secretly as I could and luckily Miss Hardcastle was the only one to spot it so as I set my hand to my side she took the note from me hiding it in her pocket so I could use my hand still, 

"Have a lovely evening, Both of you."

"You too Dr Dawkins," My father smiled,

Jack then left and for a moment Miss Hardcastle and I shared a look and had to prevent us both from giggling like schoolgirls.

We bidded goodnight to everyone else of course and once the last guest was gone my father took my hands and kissed my hair, "I do dare say that was a rousing success." 

"I do think so Father,"

"I'm sure you have your list, I know I have mine."

"I do father."

"Very good, but it's late we will talk once you have had the time to mull things over in sleep. But I shall see you for breakfast." 

"Yes, see you for breakfast, goodnight Father."

"Goodnight my sweet." 

Miss Hardcastle then took me to my room and stood me in my mirror to slowly work at undoing my dress for me. Helping me get changed for bed given the various layers and complicated ties. 

"I expect then we shall be seeing more of Dr Dawkins?"

"I do hope so,"

"I won't say a word. But I best not catch this sort of nonsense again."

"Yes, Miss." I nodded 

"Good," She said as finally the dress was off me and I could slip on my nightie "Get some rest," she said as she helped me to the bed tucking me in and she headed me the note from her pocket as she shut off the light and shut the door, 

I giggled as soon as she was gone taking the note still folded tight, I smiled and unfolded it seeing the sweet note clearly written in a rush I even noticed the paper it was written on was merely some ripped paper from my fathers office, 

'Dearest Y/n, 

Tonight has been utterly unexplainable, I wish my words could do you and this evening justice. 

I do hope I didn't cause you too much trouble and can forgive me for getting us caught. 

If you still want to see me, I'll come and wait by our bench in your garden tomorrow once the sun sets meet me there and we will discuss how we shall proceed. 

I cannot wait to see you, and if I don't I shall understand. 

Have a good night, sleep well.

My Darling, My Y/n, My 'hopeful' Future Mrs Dawkins.

Yours affectionately 

Jack X' 

I giggled as I read it unable to hold back my smiles, he wanted to see me again, he wanted us to speak of how to proceed, I was so immensely happy, the mere kiss on the page was enough to make my heart heavy. and I pulled the note to my chest almost rolling around my bed and kicking my feet with joy.

I had not thought about such a thing, but now it was all I could dream of, to one day be Mrs Dawkins. 

I woke to the sound of the adult bird in the nest outside my window singing sweet songs. I couldn't help but smile as I lay in my bed, my legs knotted with my sheets, Jack's note still clutched to my breast. I lay enjoying the shadows cast by the sun for a good few minutes before I forced myself out of bed. I refolded the note along its lines and kissed it before I hid it in my bedside drawer.

I got up and began to dress for the day ahead, into my light blue day dress as I wasn't planning on going out today. I began to sing with the bird and sang the same sweet, beautiful song as I dressed.

"Good Morning Miss Everset." Miss Hardcastle said as she arrived to my room,

"Good Morning," I smiled as I sang,

She chuckled, "Who'd have known a boy would be the best way to get you to practice your vocals,"

I giggled a little as I finished my dress and put a brush through my hair,

"Breakfast is ready and your father is waiting." She said,

"Lovely," I smiled as I set my brush down and followed her down to the dining room, where my father sat in his usual seat eating his breakfast, he looked up, saw me and smiled.

"My, My, been a while since I saw you smile so widely,"

"It's a good day," I smiled,

"It certainly is my sweet." He chuckled,

The maid then brought my breakfast and I had a plate of fried eggs, hashbrowns, french toast and even some bacon. I thanked her and looked at my father questionably, He smiled.

"You don't have a debutante dress to fit into."

I blushed but happily tucked in after so long of waiting for some good food, We sat and ate in silence and once my plate was empty he got up from his heat and came to me, he offered his hand.

"Come my sweet." He cooed,

I took his hand and followed him to his office, He took a seat at his desk before he took one out of his desk drawer. I giggled and paced the room playfully.

"Now once you went to bed I made myself a list of all of the gentle boys I think would be good suitors going forward and I couple did whisper of potential intentions last night but I promised you I would not speak on your behalf and I did not say a word my sweet." he explained, "I'm sure you must have a list of your own those we agree on we can take steps, now to keep it simple Yes, perhaps and No."

"Yes Father," I nodded,

"Good girl, Now we shall begin, Lord Arthur Lindsey?"

"Remind me?"

"Very tall chap, smelt of roses."

I was reminded

"Well..."

"Y/n, I do not want you to lie to me, I don't care who you marry so please just be honest with me."

"No,"

"Alright, Mr Damiris?"

"No, too old."

"I see, Mr Small?"

"Too Tall, Ironicly."

"Mr Ryan?"

"Perhaps."

"Ohh our first perhaps?"

"He was pleasant enough,"

"Good, Mr Sapping?"

"Stank of fish?"

"Yes, the fishmonger's son."

"No."

"Alright, Interesting those were my top five candidates." He chuckled as he made notes, "Clearly I am not up to date with the things ladies like." He laughed,

"Perhaps not Father,"

"Well we push on," he said,

This went on for the rest of the morning, him listing names and us discussing them, I did my best to not be so tunnel-visioned and I did allow him to make up a small list of men I would allow us to continue to keep on the back burner as it were, just in case things do not go as I wish them too.

I even gave my father some names making sure I mixed a few others into my list. I didn't want to make it seem like my mind was already made up given I still didn't know truly where Jack stood, and I wouldn't know until I saw him tonight, if that would even be discussed at all tonight. I didn't want my father to think I was ignoring others, or focusing too much, and of course not letting him in at the fact I had all but decided before even my ball would only make him wonder why such an expense was necessary. Even if I was wondering that myself now.

"That is all?"

"There, is one more father."

"Ahh perfect last one then for my list, He a perhaps?"

"Uhh no. He's a yes."

"A yes? My goodness our one and only yes. Well let's hear it then who is the chap who's bewitched my sweet into giving out her one and only yes?"

"Dr. Dawkins," I did my best not to blush, fiddled with my fingers in the few seconds I waited for his response.

"Dr. Dawkins?"

"Yes, Father,"

"Alright," He nodded adding him to the list, "I take it he... amuses you?"

I blushed, "He does amuse me," I forced back laughter, I knew what my father wanted to ask but given society, our time, and our lifestyle, such a thing cannot be said between us even if he is my father.

"Will you allow me your ear?"

"Of course Father,"

"Money." he said, "Doctors don't make much money,"

"I'm aware."

"Your life would change, your lifestyle would be different, he it's very unlikely he'd be able to keep you in the lifestyle to which you have become accustomed."

"That's true," I nodded, "I thought you said I could marry whomever I wanted? a Lord, a butcher, a baker, a doctor?"

He smirked, "So already you think of Dr Dawkins in the terms of marriage."

I blushed and realized my error, "I think of all men who may wish to court me in the terms of marriage, one should not enter a courtship without seeing marriage."

"Good girl," he nodded, "Alright, I do say you can marry whomever you like I am not going to stop you marrying a poorer if that is your choosing but I just wish to discuss as we have the other men." He said,

"Thank you, father,"

"But still, I want you to know these things before any sort of decisions are made, as I said doctors don't make much."

"I am sure a humble life is one that I could return to."

"Doctors work often, weekends, weekdays, time off its not much to them. You'd be alone a lot, he would not be able to spend all his days with you."

"No, but we would simply be forced to savour every moment we are together."

"Doctors often are cynical, emotionless, it comes with the job you witness such horrors, such death."

"But you also witness life, the spark and fight of true humanity. And I imagine it gives them such a drive, such an unstoppable determination for each moment, to survive above all else."

He nodded, "Dawkins." He chuckled, "Mrs Y/n Dawkins, it has a ring I can't deny. Very good, He is your one and only yes. But we shall proceed with all as discussed and we shall we how the fruits fall."

"Thank you, father," I smiled going to leave,

"Y/n?"

"Yes?"

"If he comes to see me, and does all as he should." He said, "The shortest courtship I'll allow is six months."

"Good to know, Thank you, father." I nodded before I scampered away. 

I picked out a pretty dress and brushed my hair, I gave myself a good perfume spritz before I left my room and headed downstairs but I was caught at the kitchen door.

"Something you wanted Miss Everset?" Miss Hardcastle asked helping the maid clean from dinner,

"Ohh, I was just going for a walk in the garden, before I settled myself to bed."

"In the dark?"

"I fancied a moonlit stroll."

"Alright, just don't be too late."

"I won't!" I smiled as I bolted out the door and headed into the garden, I held my dress above the grass as I walked as fast as I could without drawing suspicion back to the sweet stone bench from last night, under the orange tree, the little bench like last night bathed in a sweet white grey ray of moonlight. I thought of last night and felt giddy with excitement to see him again, to have his hand grace my own, to have our lips entwined once more, to speak with him about our plans, our future, a life we were to build.

I went and perched myself where I had yesterday, Plucking an orange as I sat for a moment I tossed it back and forth between my hands. Every second felt like an hour of wait, I counted the stars in the sky, the leaves in the tree, the flowers of the garden, and my own heartbeats that got slower and slower as my excitement turned to solo fear while I waited, but he didn't come and each time I looked and saw no sign of him my heart sank a little lower until it was firm in my feet.

Perhaps he has forgotten about me?

Perhaps last night was merely a trick of the moon and wine and once home he realized his foolishness?

Perhaps all of this was merely a joke at my innocent expense?

Perhaps, he was not coming?

Perhaps I had merely been foolish to believe him?

I sighed and rolled my orange away across the grass, I knew I would have to go back inside or else people would come looking for me.

My heart felt so utterly broken, my heart felt weak and frail, I felt so stupid, tears welled up in my eyes, and my hands shook, my breaths unsteady and sharp.

I waited longer than I should have, all in hope but as the hours ticked by he never arrived.

To think I had told my father of him, I had risked Miss Hardcastle telling my father for him, I had let him kiss me, I had let him touch my hand, let him break so many rules with me all of which if word ever escaped this place my reputation would forever be broken.

I was so, so willing... so happy, so blindly in love that ... I'd have given him everything.

I'd have committed here and now to him forever, I'd begun to build a life in my mind with him, I'd have sworn myself to him this night if he had asked it, I'd have packed my things and followed him away to a world unknown if he had asked it of me.

I'd have made him my world.

But he didn't come for me.

I wiped my tears and stood, I fixed my dress and started on the walk inside.

I kept turning back in the hope that he'd be there just catching me before I go but... I went in and up to my room.

I lay on my bed fighting back the tears taking his note and re-reading it making sure I was not been at fault but no.

Our bench, as the sun sets.

He hadn't come.

"I trusted you..." I began to cry, "Where are you, Jack?" 

#tbs #thomas brodie sangster #thomas sangster #thomasbrodiesangster #tbs smut #tbs imagines #thomas sangster imagine #tbs imagine #thomas brodie sangster imagine #thomas brodie sangster smut #doctor jack dawkins #jack dawkins #jackdawkins #jack #jackdawkinsartfuldodger #the artful dodger #theartfuldodgerjack #thearttfuldodger #theartfuldogger

[klaineccfanficlibrary]

Stories We’ve Read & Enjoyed in the Past Three Years (2020 - 2023)

We had a recent request for stories that were not dark, and no character death. They wanted stories that would make for fun conversations - we’re not quite sure what that means exactly, since any story can spark a fun convo so we hope you all find something enjoyable to read. We’ve included 30 various stories - if you enjoy an author’s writing, definitely check out their other works! And it goes without saying, please leave kudos or a sweet comment. 

Thank you and happy reading!

Lynne, @hkvoyage @1908jmd and @lilyvandersteen

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I Don’t Date Cheerios by @teddyshoney

Blaine, leader of the McKinley High bad boys is forced to join a club, and he winds up singing in front of the Glee Club. Who else would be in the audience besides Cheerio Kurt? Kurt's never been a fan of Blaine, but that's all about to change...

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99 perspectives on a single love story by @spaceorphansficrecs

The Story of Kurt and Blaine told through the eyes of everyone else but them. Each chapter is a different perspective in the ongoing tale of their love story.

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Nashville by @hkvoyage

Kurt lands the lead role in a new musical, but it flops during the previews. However, his performance captivates Nashville’s newest country music sensation. They share an instant connection and it grows deeper as they get to know each other. Will Kurt be able to save the musical and keep the man of his dreams?

~~~~~

Christmas in Cabinland by @honeysucklepink

Sam enters Kurt and Blaine in a contest for a “unique Airbnb experience,” which turns out to be a rustic week in 15 acres of the Pacific Northwest rainforest. Far away from civilization, and with little interruption from their eccentric hosts, it’s a Christmas they won’t soon forget.

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Barking up the wrong bakery by @forabeatofadrum

Kurt is the biggest dog party planner in Los Angeles. When his usual dog bakery cancels on Kurt, he’s in the dire need of a last minute replacement. Luckily, he comes across the Dalton Doggy dog bakery, which is run by Blaine and Cooper Anderson. Cooper’s a mess, but Blaine manages to charm Kurt. Will Kurt be able to keep it professional?

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About-face by quizasvivamos

At the start of the Marching Band season his sophomore year, Blaine is the youngest Drum Major in McKinley High history. However, none of his peers believe he deserves the title, especially a handful of embittered upperclassmen, including one particularly stubborn Color Guard Captain, who challenges him in more ways than one.

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Everybody’s naked and there’s a country to run by @coffeegleek

A take on the "prince/king!Blaine and prince/king!Kurt are getting married and have to do it while naked in front of their loyal subjects" trope. It’s pure crack taken seriously. I’m blaming the heat. The fic started as this wisp of an idea and a single funny Kurt line. It was supposed to all be fast paced and instead sometimes dissolves into a bit of world building, exposition, and Kurt feelings. I do try my best and hope that at least some of the jokes and humor land. It also developed a full blown plot that has a beginning and an end.

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Braid of Gold by @jayhawk-writes

Kurt and Blaine ask Caphriel to make the decision about where they go next. He chooses a lifetime where Kurt and Blaine will have to navigate a situation they've not yet been in. They'll have to work through loss and betrayal and ultimately, their bond will be stronger as a family because of it.

~~~~~

Home away from home by @lilyvandersteen

Cooper buys a hotel sight unseen and asks Blaine to run it for him over the summer. Only, the hotel is a health and safety hazard and Inspectors Hummel and Abrams are hell-bent on closing it down. Can Blaine spruce the hotel up in time and save Cooper's investment?

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These inconvenient fireworks by @redheadgleek

After an unexpected Tony award, Kurt Hummel is Broadway's hottest up and coming star, which comes with expectations and some admirers that won't take a hint. When his best friend Elliott Gilbert suggests that they pretend to date to get the leeches to back off, Kurt takes him up on the idea. It's all working out great - until Kurt starts to fall hard for the dark-haired music director of his latest musical.

~~~~~

Reprise by orphan-account  [PDF]

During Kurt's senior year at NYADA, a life-changing event causes him to take a leave of absence and what was supposed to be a short stay turns into years. His life certainly isn't what he expected, but he's not exactly unhappy. His name is not lit up in lights on Broadway, but he's involved in community theater and LGBTQ groups in Columbus and has friends who love him and casual lovers. But turning 35 has made him restless and he's longing for the life he had before. Burt talks him into taking some classes at Ohio State University to finish his degree and start focusing on himself again. What Kurt finds on the OSU campus is much more than he bargained for.

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Turn Into a Pose by @little-escapist  

Singer-songwriter Blaine Anderson wants to come out of the closet. When his publicist sets him up with movie-star Kurt Hummel, he’s ready for anything, but the last thing that Kurt wants is a relationship with anyone, let alone Blaine. He hates his publicist for setting him up, hates the idea of lying to the world, and hates letting the world invade his personal life. But maybe Blaine Anderson is exactly what Kurt Hummel needs.

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Spinning out by @rockitmans

Blaine is smitten with his college roommate literally upon arrival and decides that he's an excellent candidate for losing his virginity with. After all, what's better for Roomie Bonding than penetration between friends?

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Solid Gold by @heartsmadeofbooks

Ten years after breaking his engagement to Blaine, Kurt's life isn't the fairy tale he once hoped for. Forced to leave New York, he goes looking for a second chance, not expecting to find it in the town he always wanted to run away from, or with the man whose heart he shattered.

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Lost Boy by  my own patronus

In September 1999, Pam and James Anderson's world was shattered when their youngest son, Blaine, was abducted from a local park. 12 years later, after pain, healing, and tireless searching, the family is reunited. But the boy who comes home to them isn't the same one they lost so long ago. The Anderson family must learn to change and grow as a lost boy is found once more.

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To Serenade an Angel by @teddyshoney

After the death of his father, Kurt receives a letter from a prestigious musical college, inviting him to attend. He decides to attend, and shortly after his arrival, he hears a strange voice beckoning him down a forbidden hallway. Kurt begins a relationship with the voice, unsure why he finds him so intriguing and why his heart beats more rapidly each time he thinks about the voice. Who does the voice belong to? And what does it want with him?

~~~~~

Since Sense Sensory by @gleefulpoppet

One rainy night, nestled at a patio table of a small café, Kurt broke off his engagement with Blaine in a moment of heated frustration that had been building for weeks. That was 12 years ago, and they haven’t seen each other since. Suddenly, they may find themselves reunited in a place they never expected. If you had a second chance with your first love, would you take it?

~~~~~

The Ghost Kitchen by @hkvoyage

At the start of the Covid-19 pandemic, Kurt lived in Lima with his father. Two years later, he returned to New York City. As he needed money to pay for rent and food, he got a job in a booming industry: food delivery. His first delivery order was a pick-up from Warbler Food Enterprises. Little did he know he would meet a cute chef there that would turn his world upside down.

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Where Dreams Are Born by @kurtswish

Kurt Hummel always dreamed of New York, but reality doesn’t quite live up to his expectations. One impulsive decision could change it all.

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Love, Blaine by @gleefuldarrencrissfan

Blaine Anderson is a typical teenager. Except he’s not because he’s hiding a huge secret. He’s gay. But after reading a confession on the informal Dalton blog, he discovers that he’s not the only closeted boy at Dalton. After a moment of courage, he emails him and ultimately starts up a friendship that will change life as he knows it. Loosely based on Love, Simon.

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Teach Me Control by @scatter-the-stars

Kurt is in a established Dom/sub relationship with his high school English teacher, Blaine. And Blaine decides to surprise him on his nineteenth birthday with something he never expected.

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looking for something that'll (never) come by @klaineanummel

Blaine Anderson-Chang knows that his crush on his brother’s best friend, straight football star Kurt Hummel, is foolhardy. But every now and then Kurt gives him a look and Blaine can’t help but wonder.

~~~~~

Domus Civita by JayhawkWrites

While on vacation to a city he’s never been to, Kurt Hummel finds himself in a place that he recognized from his dreams. The person he always sees in those dreams is there, too, and they spot him and ask, “Is it really you?”

Note: Part of the In Every Lifetime series

~~~~~ 

Bicycle Patrol Unit by @caramelcoffeeaddict

When NYPD bicycle cop, Blaine Anderson, begins to fall for Kurt Hummel - the gorgeous man that he first notices while Kurt is jogging through the park during Blaine’s patrol there - it causes a rift between him and his patrol partner, Sebastian Smythe

~~~~~

Never Saying Goodbye To You by @lilyvandersteen

Inspired by a beautiful drawing by @thisdoesnotsuck, this is a story where Kurt travels through time to the 1920s and falls in love with his great-grandfather’s secret beau. Featuring a family curse, doppelgängers, angst and confusion.

~~~~~

When Are You Gonna Sing For Me by  TheNameIsBritney

Kurt is one of the three members of wildly successful pop punk band One Three Hill. He is also forgetful as all get out and accidentally leaves his phone somewhere where a certain music teacher just happens to find it.

OR

The pop star!Kurt/middle school music teacher!Blaine au that lives rent free in my brain

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My Reader by Cleverboots (Amberlovesocean)

Kurt is looking for an after-school job. He finds an ad on the school bulletin board for a job reading aloud for someone. It pays well and seems easy, so Kurt applies. He gets the job and goes to the mansion to read for a boy that was severely injured in an accident. Of course you know the boy's name is Blaine Anderson. After a rocky start, they become friends and an amazing opportunity opens up for Kurt.

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The Elf On The Shelf by kellyb321

The owner at Verve Design has decided the holidays at the office have been way too boring in the past. He's decided to kick it up a notch with a Christmas party, Secret Santas and...and adorable Elf on the Shelf for the office. Kurt might be a little smitten.

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Outlined on My Finger, Printed in My Heart by @jayhawk-writes

Blaine and Kurt spent a while picking their next adventure. When they finally decided, Caphriel was elated. This was an adventure he had been waiting for them to choose.

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Guard My Heart by @scatter-the-stars

The kiss isn't meant to change his life. But for Kurt, that's what happens when he kisses basketball star Blaine Anderson. Not wanting to concern himself with the guy, he focuses on going back to his normal life and saving a place he loves. When Blaine starts to show up in his life, he tries to ignore the feelings he stirs up in him. That's easier said than done, and Kurt soon finds himself falling for someone unexpected.

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