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krirebr · 3 months

Text

More Than This 3

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x f!reader, Steve Rogers & f!reader

Word Count: ~5.8k

Summary: Arranged marriages have always been used to solidify business deals among the ultra-wealthy. Your stepfather wants to be in business with Harlan Thrombey, so now it's your turn.

Warnings: Heavy angst, age difference, adult themes, institutional sexism, multiple references to vomit (but nothing graphic, I don't think), attempted sex that makes everyone sad - dubcon on both sides, explicit language, the slooowest burn - Warnings will be added as needed for subsequent parts. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A/N: Alright friends, here we go! Now we're really in it.

A gigantic thank you, as always, to @paperweight91 for reading so much of this and talking it all through with me, especially the last section, which I've been anxious about since I originally conceived of it ages ago. You're the best, Chelsea!

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. And if you need to come scream at me, that's ok too!

As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

You heard Ransom get up in the early hours of the morning and stumble into the bathroom to retch. You were glad he didn’t choke on his vomit, you guessed. You were still on the couch with the TV turned down low. You wondered if he’d come out and see what you were doing, but he just stumbled back to the bed when he was done.

You didn’t hear him again for several more hours. In that time, you mostly watched TV, dozed a little, fucked around on your phone. Time passed slowly, but it still passed. Soon, the sun was coming up. You were moving across the country today. Your new life was starting whether you wanted it or not.

A few hours later you heard the beginnings of movement in the bedroom. You called down to room service and ordered two carafes of coffee, along with a few different breakfast options, ranging from light to extremely greasy. You didn’t know what his hangovers were like, what they required. But you knew that an especially moody Ransom wouldn’t do you any good. So, a peace offering of a sort.

The food arrived before he’d shown his face. As you looked at the cart, you thought that while you were trying to start things as well as you could for your own good, it didn’t erase everything he’d done the day before, how he’d treated you. So you made no effort to be quiet as you laid out the food and got the coffee ready. You may have banged the metal covers together as noisily as you could.

“What the fuck?” Ransom grumbled as he came stumbling out of the bedroom in just his boxer briefs. “Why is there noise?”

“Coffee,” you said, handing him the mug you’d filled. “I didn’t know how you take it.”

He took a sip and just grunted at you and then turned around and went back into the bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

You busied yourself by getting your own coffee and munching on some toast. You still had no appetite but figured you should probably eat something.

A few minutes later, he came back out with a now empty mug. He stopped and stared at you. “Am I still drunk or are you still wearing your wedding dress?”

You tried not to let your embarrassment show. “I couldn’t get it off by myself, so…” you trailed off and shrugged.

He looked at you for another moment then nodded once. “Give me a minute,” he said, as he poured himself another cup. He drank it quickly, then briefly held his head in his hands. When he looked back up, he took a deep breath, then mumbled “OK.” He came up behind you and lightly touched your dress. “Is there a trick to it?” he asked as he ran a finger down the seam.

“It’s a long line of hook-and-eyes, you know?”

He hummed and then started at the top. As he worked, he grumbled to himself, which made you feel a little better about not being able to get it off. You’d never stop being surprised by how gentle his hands were. It seemed to be in complete opposition to every other part of him. When he was about halfway down, his knuckles lightly grazed the bare skin of your back and a shudder ran through your whole body. “Sorry,” he said, softly. You just shook your head and didn’t say anything.

When he was done, he quickly took a step back. You held your dress to you, trying to preserve your modesty, even though you knew how silly that was. You just weren’t ready for him to see you, although you doubted that that mattered. “Thank you,” you whispered.

He nodded again, then “You mind if I take the first shower?”

You shook your head and he disappeared into the ensuite.

About an hour and a half later, you sat with him in the back of a town car, on your way to the private airfield where one of his family’s planes awaited you. Neither of you said anything. Ransom was staring at something on his phone, while you put all your energy into trying not to have a panic attack. You had no idea what was waiting for you in Boston. You weren’t ready for this. You couldn’t do it.

As the car pulled up to the hangar, you were beyond relieved to see Steve already waiting there, Lola’s travel crate at his feet. The moment the car was parked and turned off, you lept out, not waiting for anyone to open the door for you. You bent down in front of Lola’s crate first and carefully stuck your fingers through the door. “Hi, baby, I missed you.” She kissed your fingers and then whined to be let out. “Not yet, honey,” you said softly. “You have to wait til we’re on the plane.”

You stood up and faced Steve, who was looking you over carefully. “How are you doing?” he asked seriously.

You shrugged and sighed. “Freaking out a little, I guess, but it’ll be fine.”

“And if it isn’t, you’ll call me,” he said, voice firm. “I don’t care where you are or what time it is, you call me. Ok?” You nodded. He opened his mouth to say more, but then the call of your name came from over your shoulder.

You turned to see Ransom standing between you and the jet. Your heart dropped. No, not yet. You needed more time. You needed to be able to actually say goodbye. You couldn’t– “I’ll be on the plane,” he said, voice still scratchy and tired, sunglasses firmly on, despite the overcast day. “Take your time.” He turned around and began walking up the stairs.

You just stared after him for a moment, surprised. When you turned back to Steve, his lips were curled in disgust. But then the expression quickly changed to something much sadder. “I should have done more,” he said, “gotten you out of here, sent you away or something. I can’t–”

“Steve.” you interrupted. “Please stop. It’s no use now.” You couldn’t listen to any more of this. It had always been inevitable; it’d always been what you were for. Imagining anything else was useless.

Neither of you said anything for a moment, then he looked around and asked, “Are Dad and Lydia on their way?”

You tried to keep any hurt out of your expression when you said, “No, something important came up for Joseph and you know Mom has a hard time going anywhere by herself.” You ignored the cracks you heard in your own voice.

Steve’s brow furrowed in confusion and upset. “I would have picked her up,” he said. “Hell, I’ll go get her right now.”

“I know,” you said sadly. “I told her that, but you know how she is.” You dropped your eyes, not able to look at the anger you knew you’d see on Steve’s face. You were angry too, you were, but mostly now you were just sad. And after thinking about it all night, you honestly weren’t sure how much anger she deserved. She’d been broken for a long time. It’d happened before you’d even known her, probably. It’d been unfair, maybe, to expect her to be strong for you now when she’d never been able to be that before.

Steve said your name and you looked up at him. “You don’t deserve this,” he said firmly. “I know I’ve said it before, but I really need you to understand it. None of this is what you deserve.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, so you just nodded and muttered, “OK.”

He sighed and shook his head, then pulled you into his arms. “I’m going to miss you so fucking much,” he said into your hair. “I don’t know what I’m going to do without having you just a few minutes away to annoy whenever I want.”

You huffed a laugh into his shoulder. “I’m going to miss you too,” you said. “So much. Even when you’re being so annoying.” The tears were starting now, you weren’t able to hold them back. You pulled back and briefly got a good enough look at Steve’s face to see that his eyes were wet, too, before he knelt in front of Lola’s crate.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said quietly. “I’m going to miss you too. You take good care of your mom for me.”

You couldn’t help the little sob that came out of you at that. Fuck. Steve had been stuck to your side since you were six years old. Through absolutely everything. He’d been the one person you could count on for as long as you could remember. And now you were being dragged away from him.

He stood up and pulled you into another hug. “You’re so strong,” he whispered right in your ear. “Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

When he pulled back, you knew it was time to go, but you didn’t know how to pull yourself away. This all felt so final.

“Let me know when you land,” he said. “And when you get to the house. And just–” he sighed. “Everything. I want to know everything, ok?”

You nodded and tried to brush the tears from your eyes. “Yeah, ok,” you said, knowing you’d send him the exact amount of information that would keep him from worrying too much. You picked up the dog crate. You locked eyes with him one last time. “I love you.”

His voice was thick when he responded, “I love you too. I’m going to sit right here until you’ve taken off, ok? I’ll be right here.”

“You’re a good brother,” you said, as you slowly took your first step backward, toward the jet.

“Yes. I am,” he said with a smile that was half cocky and half absolutely heartbreaking.

With one last deep breath and an “OK,” that was mostly to yourself, you forced yourself to turn around and make your way to the stairs up to the jet. Once you were halfway up, you looked over your shoulder. Steve was leaning against his car. He gave you an encouraging smile and a small wave. You nodded and took the last few steps to board the plane.

A flight attendant was standing right there to greet you. “Welcome aboard, Mrs. Drysdale,” she said and you couldn’t help the way your mouth dropped open in shock. Mrs. Drysdale. That’s who you were now. You tried to pull yourself together and let her show you into the main cabin. It was mostly open, with a few plush seats and tables scattered around. Ransom was already in one, fully reclined with a sleep mask pulled over his eyes. He made no indication that he was awake, so you asked the attendant for a mask for yourself and a glass of water. As she went to fulfill your request, you opened Lola’s little cage and picked her up when she came out. She was nervous, shaking with her little tail tucked between her legs. “It’ll be ok,” you said softly, the tears threatening to stream down again. You took a deep breath and settled the both of you into a seat as far from Ransom as you could get in the small private jet. You gave Lola gentle pets until she sat down on your lap. “We’ll just take a nap,” you said, “and it’ll be over before we know it.”

“What the fuck is that?”

You woke with a start and pulled off your sleep mask. “Huh?” You sat up to see Ransom and Lola locked in a staredown.

“What is that?”

“I told you that I had a dog,” you said, confused.

“That!” Ransom yelled, pointing at Lola, “is not a dog. That’s a long-haired rat!”

“Hey!” you yelled back, just as Lola started retching. “Oh, baby, no!” You knelt down next to her just as she puked right at Ransom’s feet.

“What the shit?!” he cried out, jumping back.

“She’s stressed, ok? It’s not like I can explain to her what a plane is or where we’re going!” You grabbed what was left of your water and the napkin the flight attendant had brought with the glass and tried to clean it up. “Shit,” you mumbled to yourself.

“What are you doing?” He stood over you with his hands on his hips.

“I’m cleaning it up so you don’t freak out, ok? It’ll be fine, just give me a minute.”

“Get up.”

“What?”

“You don’t need to do that. The crew probably has a steam cleaner or something. My dad uses this plane. I’m sure they’ve seen worse.” He walked to the front of the cabin and knocked on the divider. When the attendant came, Ransom quietly told her, “The dog got sick. I assume you have something to clean it up.”

She nodded and quickly came out with a portable steam cleaner and made quick work of Lola’s mess.

“Thank you,” you told her.

“No problem at all, Mrs. Drysdale,” she smiled and went back to the galley.

“Well, that’s a real mindfuck,” Ransom said as he flopped back into his seat. He glared down at Lola, “She gonna do that again?”

“I don’t know,” you said, gently picking her up and holding her close to try to comfort her.

He pulled his sleep mask down over his eyes. “Great, love being a rat-dog owner.”

“She isn’t your dog,” you said curtly.

“Whatever. This hangover is still pounding against my skull. Wake me when we land.”

When you landed in Boston, Ransom led you to where his vintage beamer was parked and you both squeezed into it. The slightly hysterical thought struck you that it wouldn’t be suitable at all once there was a baby to cart around. You pushed that thought away. No use getting ahead of yourself.

Ransom’s house was on the edge of the city, surrounded by more trees than you expected. From the outside, it was mostly glass. Very modern. It felt cold.

He parked the car and grabbed the few bags you both had with you. The rest of your things would be delivered the next day. He showed you inside without much pomp or circumstance, just walked in ahead of you, and left the door open.

The majority of the first floor seemed to be one large, open-plan room. It was sparsely decorated and the pieces that were there seemed to be lifted wholesale from the pages of an upscale furniture catalog. There was nothing of Ransom in this house. Not that you really knew him well enough to say, but you didn’t think there was any information to be gleaned from his living space either. It all felt very empty. It was not what you had expected.

You set Lola down on the hardwood floor and she immediately ran off to explore. You crossed your fingers that she wouldn’t get into anything, not able to forget Ransom’s threat that he’d make you get rid of her if she messed anything up. You glanced over at Ransom to gauge if he was upset that you’d let her roam on her own, but he wasn’t paying any attention, leafing through a pile of mail left on the kitchen island.

He must have felt you watching him, because without looking up he said, “Bedroom’s upstairs. I’ll bring our things up later.”

You nodded even though he wasn’t looking at you. You grabbed your bag, not wanting to wait for him, and made your way up the staircase in the middle of the living room. Judging by how he’d treated you so far, you figured he planned to tuck you away in some guest room, out of his way except for when he needed you. It wasn’t unheard of in marriages like this, and you would honestly be grateful to have your own space. But as you looked through the rooms upstairs, you found a home gym, a study, and 2 storage rooms. There’d also been a bathroom and a few closets. The only room left had to be his, but you couldn’t imagine he’d want to share that with you. You very gingerly walked in and set your bag at the foot of the bed. You didn’t spend any more time there, afraid that you might be wrong.

When you went back downstairs, he was now rummaging through his fridge. “I put my bag in the bedroom upstairs,” you said to his back.

He just grunted his assent, then came out with two glass containers in his hands. He plated them both and put one in the microwave. “I have a housekeeper that comes three times a week and usually prepares meals for the whole week. You can give her any food preferences you have.”

You nodded. “I enjoy cooking,” you said, your mother's advice to ‘keep him happy’ floating in your mind. “I can make dinner too, sometimes.”

He nodded and shrugged as he took the plate out of the microwave and placed it in front of you on the island. You took a seat on one of the stools. “If you want,” he said, “but I don’t expect it.” He put his own plate in the microwave.

“Do you have any other staff?” you asked.

He shook his head. “Not for the house, not right now.”

You understood the implication that the staff would grow as your family did. A nanny, a driver, a gardener maybe, if you moved to a house that required one.

It was the lack of a driver that made you nervous. You’d never gone without one at home. You also hadn’t seen a large garage on the property, so you guessed there weren’t any extra cars around. You felt stuck in this house already, shut in like he didn’t want you to leave.

When his food was heated, he sat beside you and you ate together in silence. The food was fine, you were sure, but you couldn’t taste it. Your mind was ahead of you, wondering what the rest of the night held.

When you were done, Ransom loaded your dishes into the dishwasher and then said, “I don’t know about you, but I’m beat, so I’m just going straight to bed. Feel free to stay up if you want. I’m a heavy sleeper so you won’t wake me when you come in.”

“Oh,” you said, trying to hide your surprise. So he did intend for you to share his room. But apparently, just for sleeping. You were relieved. You were. The little voice in your head that wouldn’t stop whispering that he didn’t want you didn’t count. “I’m still three hours behind, so I might stay up a little longer.” Doing what, you had no idea. You didn’t have any of your things and you weren’t sure what was off-limits here yet. And you were exhausted, still hadn’t recovered from not sleeping the night before. But you just couldn’t deal with the awkwardness of going to bed at the same time as him.

“OK,” he said and then just stood there, looking surprisingly lost. After a couple of endless minutes, he just said, “Goodnight,” and finally went upstairs.

You grabbed your phone out of your handbag, unsurprised to see multiple messages from Steve, checking in on you. You sent him one back, assuring him that the flight had been fine, the drive to the house was fine, you were fine. You collected Lola from where she was curled up on a rug, quickly fed her and let her out, and then brought her and her crate upstairs. After a few minutes of internal debate, you decided to set her up in the gym, fairly certain that even in her crate, Ransom wouldn’t want her in his bedroom. It took a lot of coaxing to get her in. She was so used to sharing your bed. She whined when you closed the little grate and your heart broke. “I’m so sorry,” you whispered. “You’ll get used to it. It’ll be ok.”

You quietly went into the bedroom and Ransom was, indeed, already asleep, spread out on his stomach again, but luckily this time only taking up one side of the bed. He’d left the lamp on the opposite side on for you. You took your sleep clothes out of your bag and brought your toiletries into the ensuite, unpacking only what you’d need for the night. His things were all piled around one of the side-by-side sinks, but the other was clear for you. You went through your nightly routine quickly and then went back into the bedroom and very carefully climbed into bed. He didn’t stir. You turned off the lamp and settled at the edge of the bed. Your exhaustion took you quickly.

When you woke in the morning, Ransom was gone.

Your things were delivered a few hours after you woke. You started by trying to organize the boxes into the least obtrusive pile possible. You hoped that if they were tucked into a corner, he wouldn’t be too annoyed while you took your time going through them. You started with a few of the smaller boxes, unpacking the items into places you hoped they could go.

You took Lola for a walk around the neighborhood. It was sparsely populated, the houses spaced far apart. You didn’t run into any neighbors.

One of the walk-in closets in the bedroom had been cleared out for you, so you spent the afternoon unpacking all your clothes. By the time you were done, it was time for dinner. There was still no sign of Ransom.

You fed Lola and helped yourself to one of the meals in the fridge. You ate alone and after you cleaned up, you dug a book out of one of your boxes and settled on one of the not-very-comfortable couches with Lola to read. You didn’t know if she was allowed on the furniture – you were sure she wasn’t, actually – but Ransom wasn’t here to see it, so you couldn’t find it within yourself to care.

As you were finishing the second chapter in your book, he walked through the front door. With how the house was set up, he had a clear view of you and Lola from the door. “Hi,” was all he said.

“Hi,” was all you could say back.

He just stood there for a moment and then took off his coat and shoes. “How was your day?” he asked, stiffly, as he came into the living room.

“Fine,” you said. Then you realized he was actually attempting conversation and added, “My things came, so I got started unpacking.”

He nodded, “That’s good. Did you eat?”

“I did,” you said, hoping that was the right answer. “Can I get you some food?”

“No, I’m fine. I ate at the office.” Well, that answered where he’d been all day – his family’s publishing house.

He cleared his throat. “I’m going to go upstairs to unwind. Will you be heading up soon?”

Oh. Right. It’d finally come. “Yeah,” you said, your mouth suddenly dry. “I’ll just get Lola settled and then join you.”

He looked down at your dog in your lap like he was noticing her for the first time. But he didn’t say anything, just nodded and walked upstairs.

You let Lola out the back door for just a couple minutes, then took her upstairs. It was even harder to get her into her crate this time, even after you buried treats in her blankets. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you cooed, once you finally had her locked in. “I promise it won’t always be this hard and scary. It’ll be ok.”

Ransom was waiting for you in his room, sitting in an armchair by the window. “We should talk,” he said quietly.

“Ok.” You perched on the edge of the bed and did your best to look him in the eye, even as your heart was racing.

He took a deep breath and leaned forward. “We don’t–” he started, then another breath. “There’s nothing that we have to do tonight. I mean, we can certainly get the first time out of the way, if that’s what you want to do. But it doesn’t have to be now. We have time.”

You wanted to be relieved, but it just felt like delaying the inevitable. “We don’t, actually,” you said shaking your head. “We don’t have that much time. Especially if it takes a while. If there’s going to be an issue getting pregnant, on either side, I think the sooner we know the better. I don’t want to be blindsided by it when we only have a month left.”

“Ok,” he nodded. “That makes sense. Yeah, we can get it over with.”

You were proud of yourself for the way you didn’t wince at his phrasing, but it was a near thing. But was it really fair to be upset or hurt by that when it was how you were feeling too? You wanted to stop delaying it. You were ready to just know how it was going to be, what he would want. So yeah, maybe ‘get it over with’ wasn’t such a bad way to put it.

He stood up and sighed, looking like he was bracing himself. “I do need to know, have you done this before?”

You swallowed. The question wasn’t unexpected but you weren’t sure how to answer it and didn’t know which answer he was looking for. You decided to be honest and hoped it would be ok. “Yes, I’ve had sex,” you said, quietly.

He let out a long exhale in relief. “Ok,” he said, “ok, that’s good.”

You stood up, unsure of what to do. You just wanted to be on the other side of it. You suddenly thought of what you’d just told Lola. It wouldn’t always be this hard and scary. You would get used to it. You just had to get through this first time. And then you’d know how he was. Resolved now, you started taking off your shirt.

“Wait,” he said, breathed really. “Just wait.”

Your shirt was already halfway off, stuck on your arms above your head, so you shucked it the rest of the way and threw it on the floor, but didn’t do anything else.

He came over and stood so he was in your space. He brought his hand up to cup your face, his thumb on your cheekbone. And very slowly, he ducked his head to bring his lips to yours. There was something about it. The intimacy. Even with what you knew you were about to do with him. You just– A kiss was too much. You turned away. You couldn’t do it.

Instead, your hands went to unbutton your pants. You undid it slowly then bent over with your back to him to push them down your legs, sticking your ass out as much as you could. That was better than a kiss, right? You could make him want you.

You kicked your pants off and stood back up, looking over your shoulder to see him watching you. But his face was unreadable. You weren’t ready for him to touch you, so you said, “I can get myself ready for you,” hoping it came off coy, but you were afraid he’d be able to hear how your voice shook. For the briefest moment, you almost thought you saw something travel across his face. Disappointment, maybe. But it was gone too fast for you to be able to tell, and you were trying so hard to look away, anyway.

You got on the bed, lying on your back, sliding your panties off as seductively as you could. You closed your eyes tight and slowly moved one hand down your abdomen while the other started to play with your breast, cupping it, tweaking your nipple. As your other hand slipped between your thighs, you brought up your go-to fantasy. Nothing fancy or outlandish. Just a man standing over you, touching you, telling you how much he loved you, how much he loved your body. How he was going to ruin you, completely take you apart. You tried to focus on that as your fingers slowly made their way between your folds, as they made their way to your clit. But this room kept pulling you back to reality. You could hear Ransom taking his clothes off. You tried to ignore it. You were starting to get wet, slowly but surely, so you carefully pushed one finger inside yourself, trying so hard to focus on the man, his voice. You heard a bottle of lube flick open. No, no, you weren’t here, as you added another finger. You could hear Ransom’s hand on his cock now as your thumb continued to rub your clit. You opened your eyes despite yourself. Ransom was kneeling on the edge of the bed, stroking himself to hardness. It was the first time you’d seen him fully naked. He really was so beautiful. You sort of hated him for it.

You closed your eyes again. You could do this. You scissored your fingers slowly, opening yourself up, a little whine escaping your lips, when suddenly, you felt a hand wrap around your ankle. You wanted to scream in frustration. It was no use. Your hands dropped down to your sides. You were ready enough. It wouldn’t hurt, it was fine. You blinked your eyes open again to find Ransom staring at your face, searching for something. You couldn’t begin to guess what. “I’m ready,” you said.

“Are you sure?” he asked, voice soft, but gritty.

“Yeah, I’m good. How do you want me?”

He seemed almost startled by your question. “Uh, however you’re most comfortable.”

You nodded and flipped over onto your stomach, pulling your knees up toward your elbows and putting your ass in the air. This would be easiest if you didn’t have to look at him. If you could imagine someone else. Someone who loved you. Someone who wanted to be here.

You heard the bottle of lube again and then felt him settle between your legs. One hand was on your ass and you presumed he was using the other to line himself up. You pushed your face into the pillow underneath you. You tried to bring the fantasy back as he slowly eased inside of you. He was big, but not so big it hurt. You breathed through it as he worked his way in with short, slow thrusts. He was being so gentle with you. You weren’t sure if you liked it. The hand on your ass moved to your hip, while the other snaked around to your stomach, softly stroking you there, then moved down over your pelvis, and then finally between your thighs to search for your clit. He found it quickly. But no matter how hard you closed your eyes, his fingers made it impossible for you to pretend that it was anyone else with you, anyone else touching you. Without thinking, you pushed his hand away and replaced it with your own.

He was making little grunts and gasps behind you that you tried to ignore. You rubbed furious circles over your clit and tried to focus only on the fullness you felt. But then, that fullness started to lessen. The grunts behind you turned into a “Shit.” and then a “Fuck!” and suddenly, that fullness completely disappeared. You let out a little cry as he quickly pulled out of you. You turned around to catch a glimpse of his softening cock before he disappeared into the bathroom, the door slamming behind him.

You lay on your back for just a moment, your mind trying to catch up, figure out what on earth had just happened. That voice that had been there this whole time, since that first meeting a month ago, came back with smug satisfaction. He doesn’t want you, it said, over and over. Your thighs were sticky, probably mostly from the lube. You didn’t think your wetness or his precome had been enough to make a mess out of you. You got up, desperate to not be naked anymore. You grabbed a sleep shirt out of the closet you were using and slipped it on. You hugged yourself, standing in the middle of the room with no idea what to do.

In the silence, with nothing else to focus on, you were suddenly aware of Lola crying across the hall. Fuck. Everything just kept getting worse.

Ransom came out of the bathroom and went straight to the bed. He stopped at the foot, seemingly surprised that you weren’t still in it. He looked up and found you on the other side of the room.

“Is everything ok?” you asked quietly.

“It’s fine,” he said, voice sharp. You flinched and he sighed, then visibly tried to calm himself down. “It’s fine,” he said again, much softer this time. He held out a washcloth to you. “In case you need to clean yourself up.”

You took a few steps toward him so that you could grab it. “Thank you,” you said, as you quickly wiped between your legs, then went to finish cleaning up in the bathroom.

When you came back out, he was back in bed, on his back, just staring at the ceiling. “What’s that noise?” he asked.

“Oh, it’s fine,” you hurried to answer. “It’s Lola, but she’s ok. She just isn’t used to sleeping alone. She’ll get used to it, eventually.” Your heart broke as you spoke, but you knew it couldn’t be avoided.

“Where does she usually sleep?” he asked.

It took you a minute to answer, you were so surprised by the question. “Uh, with me,” you said.

“Then go get her,” he said, without looking at you. He hadn’t looked at you since you’d come out of the bathroom.

“Really?” you whispered.

“Yeah, if it stops her crying.”

You didn’t wait to be told again. You hurried across the hall and opened her crate, scooping her up into your arms. “I’m so sorry,” you cooed. “I’m so, so sorry. It’s going to be ok now.”

When you got back to the room, Ransom had turned off his light and turned over onto his side, facing the wall. You placed Lola on the bed and crawled in after her. As you turned off your own lamp, you whispered, “Thank you,” not sure if he was awake to hear it.

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#ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x female reader #knives out #reader insert #fanfic #chris evans fanfiction #ce characters #steve rogers #steve rogers & reader #captian america #arranged marriage au #kris wrote something #more than this

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jpitha · 10 months

Text

Voiding The Warranty

Lauren was running back and forth across the ship, searching for something.

After a demi-cycle of this, Captain Shimmering Heat finally called her over her personal comm. "Lauren? What is it you're doing? You are running around like we're under attack from a Gren Warfinder and yet we're just cruising."

Lauren looked up and toggled her comm. "Sorry Captain, I'm looking for my toolkit, I could have sworn I left it in Engineering but it's not there."

Captain Shimmer made a noise over the comm that translated to something near to surprise and amused resignation. Lauren wasn't their first human. "Why do you have your own toolkit Lauren? What's wrong with my tools?"

"Oh Captain Shimmer, I know that you provide the crew with everything they need to keep this ship running smoothly. My tools are a little different."

"Different? You're telling me human tools are different?"

Lauren rummaged around in a closet until she found was she was looking for. "Ah. Found it. Why was it in the cleaning closet? Oh well, no matter. Come on down to the engine room Captain Shimmer if you want to see what I'm working on."

A few millicycles later, Captain Shimmering Heat came into the engine room. They tended to stay out of the engine room. It's not that they weren't allowed to be there - they were the Captain after all, technically the ship was theirs for the duration of the contract - it's more that... they weren't... allowed to be there. As they passed through the pressure door, a few people in the engine room looked up and frowned. Lauren saw them though and waved. "Come in Captain Shimmer! Come here!"

Seeing that Lauren invited them, everyone put their head down and went back to their work. Shimmer came over, their claws clattering quietly on the deck plates. As they approached, they didn't see Lauren, but they rounded a corner and came across a stack of equipment in pieces with Lauren under it. Their feathers rippled in worry. "Lauren! Are you all right?"

"I'm fine Captain." Lauren's muffled voice came from much deeper inside the machinery than Shimmer thought possible. "In fact, I'm better than fine!"

"Oh? Why is that?"

Lauren slid out from under the machinery. It turned out she was on a small, flat wheeled plank. It rattled as she slid herself out. Sitting up, she wiped... something from her hands with a rag tucked into her pants. "Because, I figured it out!"

Shimmer's face feathers began to slowly puff out, making their face look larger than normal. It was an ancient predator/prey response, meant to frighten attackers millions of years ago. "Figured what out?"

"This whole trip, I've been feeling like the engines have been sluggish. I know using FlashWarp isn't as fast as a Flip drive, but I figured it wouldn't be that bad. But, it sure seems like we're moving even slower than normal!"

Captain Shimmer opened their beak to deny it and then stopped. Actually... things did seem like they were going slower than they should. "Okay Lauren. I did feel like our last two warps were slower than they should have been. We were only a cycle behind though, so I wasn't worried. What did you find?"

Lauren stood. She was about one head taller than the captain and had a tendency to loom. One of the braver crewmates told her about it though and she now made an effort to take a half step back when she spoke. "I found all sorts of things! First I didn't know what I was looking at, so I went back and got the design docs and-"

"Wait, you opened up the engines without knowing what you were doing?"

Lauren waves her hand dismissively. "It's fine, it's fine. I didn't touch anything... important... that time. Anyway, I dug up the design docs and noticed - hey Captain, when was the last time you had the engines overhauled? I think they're way overdue."

Lauren had a habit of jumping from topic to topic as what she called her 'train of thought' brought her from point to point. She was able to keep on tasks for the most part, but if she came across an interesting or 'fun' problem, it was all Shimmer could do but hang on while she bounced around. "Uh, I don't think it's been done since I was issued the Star Leaf. Why? How often should it be done?"

Lauren's eyes went wide. "Way more often than that. According to these-" She swung a pad around and Shimmer caught a glimpse of engine diagrams "-a clean cycle is supposed to be run after every kilocycle and a full teardown every five kilocycles. How long have you been captain?"

"Uh... eight kilocycles."

"We're way overdue then. That might explain some of what I found. Hmm" Lauren looked off into the middle distance. Shimmer was used to this too, and usually gave her a few moments to come out of her reverie on her own before they gently prodded them. "Uh, Lauren?"

"Oh? Captain Shimmer! Right right, the mods!"

"The what?"

"Mods! I modded the engine. Since it's been so long since we've had an overhaul and it gets completely taken apart, I figured it was fine to do some light warranty voiding and see if I can claw back some performance."

"Warranty... Voiding?"

Lauren nodded, then looked at Shimmer's confused expression. "Uh, Human Thing I guess. When we sell machinery to each other usually it comes with a Warranty. Something that says that for X days or X amount of use, if it breaks prematurely we'll either replace it or pay to fix it, provided-" She raises a finger "-we don't mess with it ourselves first. They don't want to fix it for free if we were the ones who broke it."

Shimmer's tailfeathers ruffle, a nod. "Okay, I understand, but wh-"

"Oh, it's a joke mostly. I have a feeling that only engine techs get in where I was, I was pretty far inside. I spent the last few demicycles reading up on FlashWarp theory and I think that I can get a few more kilolights out of your performance. In fact, I just finished so we can try it out!"

Shimmering Heat looks helplessly at the pile of tools and access panels on the floor. "But you said that you needed your toolkit?"

"Oh yeah, needed my voltmeter. I found it though, and was able to verify the current."

"But... the mess?" Shimmer's voice sounded resigned.

Laurent looked back and seemed to see it for the first time. "Oh, we'll leave it like that and run it with the covers off. If it works, I can button it up."

"And if it doesn't work?" Shimmer feared Lauren's reply, but found themselves unable to stop.

Lauren looked at Shimmer and was about to answer and saw them practically shaking. "Oh Captain. I wouldn't do anything to risk the ship or the crew. Worse comes to worst, it won't do anything. As I see it, there are three options for what will happen. One, nothing. That's pretty unlikely, but still possible. Two, it'll work the same as before. That's the most likely to be honest. In that case, I'll revert the changes and button it up. Three, it'll work better! We'll be able to make up lost time and get to our destination faster. Come on, let's try it out."

Captain Shimmer knew they were within their rights to order Lauren to put the engines back the way they were and continue on with their mission. Captain Shimmer also knew about how humans tend to have 'an idea' and suddenly they have their Flip drives, or they do something that makes no sense and then they run their gravity generators as thrusters. He knew all this an signed on a few humans anyway.

"Admit it." They tell themselves. "You hoped that this was going to happen. It's why you hired humans and let them have more or less free rein over the ship. You wanted them to tinker. If they make real improvements, you can submit them to the Coalition and if they're adopted you get a yearly bonus."

Shimmering Heat remembers their childhood. They were one of many nestmates. Their familial unit worked hard to provide, but there were many cycles where they went hungry. If the human's work paid off, they would get a bonus and be able to help his nestmates who still had trouble.

More importantly, they would be remembered.

"Okay Lauren. Let's try it out."

Shimmer lead Lauren up to the Command Room and bade her sit in a spare seat. Captain fluffed themselves and sait in the command chair. Here. Here is where things felt more certain, more sure. "Helm, plot a warp to Station 754, best speed."

"Yes, Captain Shimmer. Plotting. Please wait while the navacomputer works."

"You know Captain, I bet we-" Lauren starts.

"One thing at a time Lauren. I know about humans and their propensity to make computers faster."

Lauren wisely keeps quiet.

A short time later, the navigator calls out that a navigation solution has been found. Captain Shimmer turns back one more time to look at Lauren. She sticks both of her hands forward, fingers curled up except her inner, shorter thicker digit, which are pointed straight up. Sighing, Shimmer turns back to Helm. "Warp."

What happens next did actually make it into the history books, though not quite for the reasons that Captain Shimmer wanted.

Star Leaf leapt forward through the rainbow colored, prismatic gate that opened in front of them, and they warped. In much less time than anticipated, they exited the warp. Captain Shimmer, surprised at the lurch, looks around. "Sensors! Where are we? Engineering! How is the engines?"

The helmsperson looks up, shaken. Their fur fully bristled in fear. "Captain... we're at Station 754."

"What?" Of all the outcomes that Captain Shimmering Heat could have anticipated, that was not one of them.

"Confirmed. Station 754 has opened a channel and is asking how we got here so fast."

The comms clicked. "Uh, Captain. This is Engineering.... You should come and see this."

Captain Shimmer turns to leave. They look to call Lauren with them, and her seat is empty. Figuring that she went ahead, they leave the Command Room. They make their way across the ship in a daze, as everyone aboard looks out the windows in amazement or fear as they realize that they have made five cycles of travel in a millicycle.

Chief Ham'itar is standing at the pressure door as Shimmer approaches. His polished, lacquered claws slide in and out of their hands, a stress reaction. "You.. you have to see this."

He leads Shimmer towards the engine that Lauren was working on and...

It's beautiful.

The entire engine is covered in the prismatic light of a FlashWarp field. It's just... sitting there, glowing, pulsing slowly.

Shimmering Heat looks at Ham'itar and says nothing.

"No, that's not normal captain. Well, okay, when we execute a particularly good FlashWarp, some old engineers say that the engines glow with a prismatic light, but only for an instant, less than the swipe of a membrane. No time at all. This-" He points a laquered claw at it accusingly "-this is Not Normal."

"Is it dangerous?"

"Long term? No idea. Currently? Doesn't seem to be. Everything I can throw at the engine says it's perfectly fine. Better than perfect actually."

"Where's Lauren? I want to ask her about this."

"Who?"

Shimmer slowly looks away from the engines and stares at Ham'itar, all their feathers completely fluffed out. "Lauren Ingram, our human Engineer. We took her on back at that Orbital around Lemmin."

Ham'itar shakes their head, their fur moving with a slight delay to their head. "We don't have anyone like that aboard, Captain. We looked into taking on a couple humans on Lemmin, but I didn't like the look of any of them, we passed on them all. Besides, I wouldn't let anyone tinker with the engines enough to make this happen.

Shimmer involuntarily backs away from the engines, towards the door. "Captain?" Ham'itar looks at Shimmer curiously as they turn and run full speed out of the engine room.

#humans are deathworlders #humans are space orcs #sci fi writing #humans are space oddities #humans and aliens #humans are space capybaras #humans are space australians #jpitha #writing #FlashWarp

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ghouljams · 9 months

Note

Begging for someone to break into Bee’s house and König only finds out bc of the bug, so he takes care of it

Here's where we get more of König being insane about his crush. Introducing(formally) the perimeter alarm.

An alert pings on König's phone as he's herding the last horse into their stall. He pats the over-large animal affectionately as he tugs his phone free and swipes through the notifications. He frowns, opening the property map and scanning for where the break pinged. Your side of the farm, not good. Hopefully it's just a wild animal that's wandered too far from the woods and set off the alarm.

He pulls the back wall of the barn open, survey's his arsenal, then grabs a rifle and a few tranquilizer rounds. If it is an animal, he'd hate to hurt the poor thing. If it isn't... Well better not to take care of it on your property.

It's a short ride through the pasture to get decent sight lines. Your house is dark, that's good. König raises the rifle, steadying it against his shoulder. The small movements of the horse under him are a little tricky, but nothing he can't deal with. Grace under pressure is what got him the rank of colonel in the first place.

He sweeps his sights around your house. While the breach hadn't been too close, it did take him time to get here. No deer, no foxes or coyotes threatening your brightly painted chicken coop, no raccoons in your trash. König frowns, sweeping wider just as a flashlight wanders its way around the blind side of your house. That makes this easier. His brain clicks through calculations, before taking aim and watching for impact. The quiet thunk of his silenced rifle firing is like music to his ears.

The figure startles a little, grasps at the dart's entry point, stumbles and collapses. And they said he couldn't be a sniper.

König rides closer to the fence, and hops off his horse, fishing some rope out of the saddle bags. It's always so easy to hop your fence. He keeps his eyes on your bedroom window, careful to stay quiet as he makes his way to your back door and your would be intruder. It's only when he turns the man over and he feels the cold grip of malice that he really decides what he's going to do next.

The man awakes in a single chair, in a small concrete room. It's dark, the only light coming from a single bare bulb hanging over head. Across from him, König leans forward. Watching with his elbows resting on his knees as the man jerks and panics against his restraints.

"It is very fortunate that I found you when I did," König tells him, "I would not have been able to stop myself if you'd actually gotten into the house."

"Where am I?" The man spits, König clicks his tongue, shakes his head.

"Now now, you are asking the wrong question. You should be asking, 'who are you?'" König motions with his hand, "Go on."

"Fine, who the fuck are you," The man's face is red with barely contained rage.

"I'm the man that's going to kill you."

All the motion seems to drain out of the man, his muscles locking up in fear or perhaps realization as König stands. The little metal table he drags over shakes and bumps along the uneven ground. It's only the noise of it, the sort of slick friction of metal against plastic, that makes the man look down at the tarp covering the floor.

"Don't look so worried, this is going to hurt a lot, but not for very long." König pauses, picking up a file, "Well, not for me anyway. For you it will feel like an eternity."

"I- Whatever it is you want we can work something out," The man asks, begs, leaning back in his chair as best he can as König draws closer. "I've got money, you want money? Or- or- shit!"

"No money," This part is always fun, the begging, the crying, the last shred of hope, "you hurt someone very precious to me, and I can't let that happen again."

"I don't even know who you are," The tears are starting. König grips his jaw hard, forces his mouth open to give the file room to drag against the man's teeth.

"But I know who you are," König hums over the grating noise of file against enamel, the building panicked scream, "and that's all that matters, isn't it?"

Yes, König thinks, that is all that matters. It isn't as if the man is fit to answer the question anyway, what with the amateur dentistry happening. This is really fantastic timing on your ex-husband's part, well fantastic for König. He'd just been wondering if and when would be appropriate to rid your life of this scum. It wasn't like you'd miss him, truly no one would, but timing was -is- everything.

An extended business trip, a few bad investments, a drunken if slightly rabid text exchange. König kept close eyes on his targets, even if he told himself it was just to keep you safe. He knew every detail, every movement this bastard made. How convenient that his tour of stupidity would lead him right into König's hands. His car might be a problem, but it's nothing König hadn't handled before.

König pulls back from his work to stare at the bloody gums and nubbed teeth. The man sobs, gurgled bubbling spit turning red from the rough orthodontics as he tries to speak around the pain. König thinks he'll do the fingers next, maybe try inserting some metal screws into his legs. It doesn't really matter what tortures he puts the man through, it'll all be burned away in the end.

König wakes you up in the morning, his knocking on your front door thunders through your house. Although you suppose it could be anyone knocking on your door, you don't really get any visitors but him. You pull a pair of shorts on to answer the door, just barely awake enough to deal with people. Your alarm isn't set to go off for another two hours at least.

When you pull your door open you blink blearily up at König. His eyes dart over you, taking in your pyjamas as you rub your eyes with a frown. You don't know what was so important it couldn't wait for later in the morning.

"König s'early, what're you doing here?" You yawn. König's expression is soft and affectionate, it's too early for that.

"I thought I'd make you breakfast," He pulls his bandana down for you to see his smile. You hum and turn to go back into the house, figuring he'll follow you like always. König's hand catches your head and spins you to face him again, dragging you for a kiss. His fingers tighten their hold on you as his lips drag against yours. It's the sweetest good morning you've ever gotten. You wonder what's gotten into him.

#König really said “our farm”#cowboy!König #oc: bee #könig x oc #könig call of duty #könig x reader #könig mw2 #tw violence #tw teeth #tw torture #tw stalking #König does some villain shit #he's gonna burn that man to ash and abandon his car at the airport #make everyone think he's just gone on a long trip #months later one of Bee's friends texts to see if he's contacted her at all

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nofomogirl · 5 months

Text

Good Omen's problem with having two canons

They're fundamentally different. That's the problem. That's my point.

For quite a while I focused almost exclusively on the new season of Good Omens, but now I am slowly delving into analysis that takes the entire show into account, and I've encountered a little obstacle. Namely, things from S1 can be really tricky to interpret.

Fair warning: this post is going to zig-zag between various points but I want you to trust me and take this scenic route with me. It will take us somewhere eventually, I promise.

The Arrangement

It's one of the core elements in the Good Omens universe and at the same time a perfect example of the issue I want to discuss. So let's have a closer look together.

In the book, the Arrangement is presented to us in two passages:

the first one, where it is first - very briefly - mentioned:

and the second one, where it is properly introduced and explained:

The Arrangement was very simple, so simple in fact, that it didn't really deserve the capital letter, which it had got for simply being in existence for so long. It was the sort of sensible arrangement that many isolated agents, working in awkward conditions a long way from their superiors, reach with their opposite number when they realize they have more in common with their immediate opponents than their remote allies. It meant a tacit non-interference in certain of each other's activities. It made certain that while neither really won, also neither really lost, and both were able to demonstrate to their masters the great strides they were making against a cunning and well-informed adversary. (...) And then, of course, it had seemed even natural that they should, as it were, hold the fort for one another whenever common sense dictated. Both were of angel stock, after all. If one was going to Hull for a quick temptation, it made sense to nip across the city and carry out a standard brief moment of divine ecstasy. It'd get done anyway, and being sensible about it gave everyone more free time and cut down on expenses.

In the show, the Arrangement is presented to us in two original scenes in the cold opening of S1E3:

(I am quoting most relevant dialogues only)

537 AD, Wessex:

C: So we're both working very hard in damp places and just canceling each other out? A: Well, you could put it like that. It is a bit damp. C: Be easier if we both stayed home. If we just send messages back to our head offices saying we'd done everything they'd asked for, wouldn't it? A: But that would be lying. C: Eh, possibly, but the end result would be the same. Cancel each other out. A: But my dear fellow... well, they'd check. Michael's a bit of a stickler. You don't want to get Gabriel upset with you. C: Oh, our lot have better things to do than verifying compliance reports from Earth. As long as they get paperwork they seem happy enough. As long as you're being seen doing something every now and again. A: No! Absolutely not! I am shocked that you would even imply such a thing. We're not having that conversation, not another word!

1601 AD, The Globe Theatre:

A: I have to be in Edinburgh at the end of the week. A couple of blessings to do. A minor miracle to perform. (...) C: I'm meant to be heading to Edinburgh too this week. Tempting a clan leader to steal some cattle. A: Doesn't sound like hard work. C: That's why I thought we should... Well, bit of a waste of effort, both of us going all the way to Scotland. A: You cannot actually be suggesting what I infer that you are implying. C: Which is? A: That just one of us goes to Edingburgh, does both. The blessing and the tempting. C: We've done it before. Dozens of times now. The Arrangement- A: Don't say that! C: Our respective offices don't actually care how things get done. They just want to know they can cross it off the list.

S2 doesn't actually reference the Arrangement. But it does reuse the dialogue about free will where the 1020 date is dropped. We will get back to it.

The challenge of adapting Good Omens

Good Omens shares a certain characteristic with all of Terry Pratchett's solo books I've read - it couldn't care less about "showing instead of telling". Which I love, just to be clear. A book is a written medium. It's made with words and one of words' major strengths is that you can use them to just tell things point blanc.

Good Omens does it a lot and it's fantastic.

Look at that second passage from the book I quoted earlier.

From just those few sentences we learn a lot about the relationships between:

Heaven and Hell (opponents and competition)

Aziraphale and Crowley (two individuals in the same position and in direct contact with each other)

Aziraphale/Crowley and Heaven/Hell (field agent and a remote HQ that are not in direct contact)

Aziraphale/Crowley and Earth (two individuals and a space they live in)

Heaven/Hell and Earth (a board where the game is played, only winning or losing matters, what actually happens on a board does not)

It's really an extra condensed worldbuilding gem sprinkled with humor, so it's no surprise it's become one of the most iconic passages from the book.

I mean, just browse through some interviews with David and Michael - especially the ones from 2019 - where they explain what Aziraphale and Crowley are about. You'll be hard-pressed to find any where they don't reference that specific paragraph, consciously or otherwise.

But it's only this neat on the pages of the book, where narration like this takes mere seconds to absorb. It's impossible to convey the same information in a visual medium with anywhere near the same efficiency.

The fact that the majority of Good Omens is like this was, in my opinion, a main challenge the adaptation faced. The book is very narration-heavy. It's full of fun facts about characters, side jokes, hilarious comments, etc. Some of that precious material was salvaged by introducing God as a narrator, but there was only so much of it you could squeeze into a TV show. The rest had to either be fit into dialogues or lost in translation from the written medium to the visual one.

Obviously, in the case of the Arrangement, it was the dialogues.

Book canon and show canon

We all know they're not the same. Neil Gaiman also pointed it out several times. But I think our mistake is that we still tend to think about them as complementary.

Look at the Arrangement again. The show canon seems to merely expand on the book canon. Add extra details and fill in the blanks. The Arrangement works the exact same way, except now we also know more about how it started.

If we compile what we know from the book with what we know from the show, we get a more detailed timeline:

Crowley first proposes the Arrangement in 537 (show).

The Arrangement starts in 1020 (book), ie. Aziraphale finally agrees to it (show - deduction); we don't know for sure if it's a "basic version" (not getting in each other's way), or a "full version" (doing each other's jobs) but we can assume it's the former.

In 1601 "full version" of the Arrangement is in place for some time (they've done it dozens of times) but Aziraphale still objects and needs convincing.

But read that description from a book once more.

Does it really fit into the version of events shown in the TV series?

The Arrangement in the book is something that just happened. A natural, and in a way inevitable result of Aziraphale and Crowley's circumstances. We are never told who came up with it first because it doesn't matter. Because it could have been either of them. Because after five millennia on Earth, they were both ready to do it. They were both of the same mind. For all we know it might have been an unspoken agreement all along!

But for the show, the creators had to come up with a good reason for the Arrangement to be discussed out loud. And what could be a more natural situation for someone to describe and explain an idea than trying to sell that idea to someone else?

For that practical reason - among many others, no doubt - the Arrangement is not only explicitly Crowley's idea, but an idea Aziraphale vehemently rejects at first. He needs to be convinced and even when he finally relents he's never entirely comfortable with it. He keeps objecting and it requires Crowley's constant effort for them to keep cooperating in any way.

The fact that Aziraphale is reluctant gives Crowley a perfect reason to keep convincing him ie. talk about the Arrangement. But the fact that he needs to explain and keep convincing Aziraphale means that Aziraphale is no longer a person who understands the same things and feels the same way.

That is a huge change.

Of course, you may say that what I've written about the Arrangement in the book is just my interpretation. It's true that technically there's nothing there that would contradict the events from the show in any way. The thing is, the events in the show aren't very compatible with the overall characterization of the ineffable duo in the book.

Evolution of Aziraphale and Crowley

You might have read that our leading pair was originally conceived as a single character that Neil and Terry eventually decided to split into two separate individuals.

My reaction when I first learned about it was: "Of course they were! That makes so much sense!" Because honestly, as a person who watched the show first and then read the book, I was surprised at how few differences there were between the two in the original text. If you squint your eyes really tight, you can see how book!Aziraphale and book!Crowley are two versions of the same character. They're far more similar than their show versions.

Most importantly, their attitudes toward Heaven and Hell are pretty much identical. Perfectly mirrored in every regard. What Hell is for Crowley, Heaven is for Aziraphale. What Hell is for Aziraphale, Heaven is for Crowley. In. Every. Possible. Way.

Allow me to present some evidence from the book.

Exhibit #1: the end of the scene where Crowley convinces Aziraphale to interfere with Warlock's upbringing

'You're saying the child isn't evil of itself?' he said slowly. 'Potentially evil. Potentially good too, I suppose. Just this huge powerful potentiality, waiting to be shaped,' said Crowley. He shrugged. 'Anyway, why're we talking about this good and evil? They're just names for sides. We know that.' 'I suppose it's got to be worth a try,' said the angel. Crowley nodded encouragingly. 'Agreed?' said the demon, holding out his hand. The angel shook it, cautiously. 'It'll certainly be more interesting than saints,' he said. 'And it'll be for the child's own good, in the long run,' said Crowley. (...)

When Crowley first points out that good and evil are just names for sides, and then insists it's something they both know, Aziraphale doesn't react in any way. That's because these aren't things that book!Aziraphale disagrees with. He does indeed know it and doesn't deny it.

Also, please note just how cynical the angel is here with his comment that influencing the Antichrist would be a more interesting project than influencing saints!

Both would be rather OOC for show!Aziraphale.

Exhibit #2: the scene just after Warlock Dowling's birthday party, when it becomes evident he is not the Antichrist

'You said it was him!' moaned Aziraphale (...) 'It was him,' said Crowley. (...) 'Then someone else must be interfering.' 'There isn't anyone else! There's just us, right? Good and Evil. One side or the other.' He thumped the steering wheel. 'You'll be amazed at the kind of things they can do to you, down there,' he said. 'I imagine they're very similar to the sort of things they can do to you up there,' said Aziraphale. 'Come off it. Your lot get ineffable mercy,' said Crowley sourly. 'Yes? Did you ever visit Gomorrah?' 'Sure' said the demon. 'There was this great little tavern where you could get these terrific fermented date-palm cocktails with nutmeg and crushed lemongrass-' 'I meant afterwards.' 'Oh.'

Can you imagine this kind of exchange in the TV series? Can you imagine show!Aziraphale being this realistic about Heaven, and show!Crowley so naive about it? There's no way.

Show!Aziraphale genuinely believes that Heaven is good at its core.

Book!Aziraphale knows Heaven isn't any different than Hell and would punish him just as ruthlessly and unfairly as Hell would Crowley.

Show!Crowley understands both Heaven and Hell on a very deep level and is highly aware of their true nature.

Book!Crowley buys a piece of celestial propaganda about ineffable mercy and actually expects Heaven to be forgiving.

Let the magnitude of that difference sink.

Exhibit #3: same scene, a bit further

'So all we've got to do is find it,' said Crowley. 'Go through the hospital records.' The Bentley's engine coughed into life and the car leapt forward, forcing Aziraphale back into the seat. 'And then what?' he said. 'And then we find the child.' 'And then what?' The angel shut his eyes as the car crabbed around the corner. 'Don't know.' 'Good grief.' 'I suppose (...) your people wouldn't consider (...) giving me asylum?' 'I was going to ask you the same thing. (...)'

This is just a cherry on top, really.

Yes, in the book, when things go pear-shaped, both Aziraphale and Crowley consider seeking asylum on the opposite side.

Do you need more proof that book canon and show canon really aren't as compatible as they may seem?

Free will

As promised, let's get back to that dialogue because while it may not be obvious at first glance it really illustrates perfectly the problem arising from balancing between two canons.

Here is the full quote from the book:

Aziraphale had tried to explain [free will] to him once. The whole point, he'd said - this was somewhere around 1020, when they'd first reached their little Arrangement - the whole point was that when a human was good or bad it was because they wanted to be. Whereas people like Crowley and, of course, himself, were set in their ways right from the start. People couldn't become truly holy, he said, unless they also had the opportunity to be definitively wicked. Crowley had thought about it for some time and, around about 1023, had said, Hang on, that only works, right, if you start everyone off equal, OK? You can't start someone off in a muddy shack in the middle of a war zone and expect them to do as well as someone born in a castle. Ah, Aziraphale had said, that's the good bit. The lower you start, the more opportunities you have. Crowley had said, That's lunatic. No, said Aziraphale, it's ineffable.

And here, for comparison, is how it was reused in S2E3:

A: There is a stolen body in that barrel! This is wicked! C: Oh, I'm down with wicked! Anyway, is it wicked? She needed the money. A: That is irrelevant. Look, I am good. You, I'm afraid, are evil. But people get a choice. You know, they cannot be truly holy unless they also get the opportunity to be wicked. She is wicked. C: Yeah, that only works if you start everyone off equal. You can't start someone off like that and expect her to do as well as someone born in a castle. A: Ah, but no, no. That's the good bit. The lower you start, the more opportunities you have. So Elspeth here has all the opportunities because she's so poor. C: That's lunacy. A: No, that's ineffable.

I'll be honest with you - I didn't like that scene in the show. It felt jarring and off. Aziraphale was acting like it was his first day on Earth and it was frustrating to watch.

Then, on one of the rewatches, just as I was rolling my eyes at "that's ineffable", a bulb lit in my brain. That line didn't work there because it wasn't created to be there! In the book and in S1 "it's ineffable" was kind of Aziraphale's catchphrase but in S2 it only appears this once. More importantly, in the book and S1, the fact that the angel would say that was all a build-up to the scene when he threw it in Heaven's face at the Tadfield Airbase. Using that word in S2 was like trying to make a running joke that has already reached its destination run again.

And just like that one line the entire dialogue didn't fit because it wasn't meant to be there. It was created for an entirely different context.

What's the difference?

Firstly, book!husbands' conviction was very shallow and it wasn't uncommon for both of them to spout slogans without meaning them. Therefore, book!Aziraphale's words didn't carry that much weight. The very fact that the conversation took place at the same time they formed the Arrangement tells us something about how serious he was. But show!Aziraphale's relationship with his beliefs is different, so when he says things like that it's a much bigger deal.

Secondly, the book explicitly states that Aziraphale and Crowley only developed free will on Earth, due to extended exposure to mankind. The show never really makes a stand on the matter but based on what we've seen so far I think we can safely assume that angels and demons are capable of making their own choices as much as humans do.

In other words, in its original context, the conversation was just Aziraphale talking about a concept he didn't fully grasp, quoting propaganda he didn't fully subscribe to. He was being ignorant and mildly obnoxious in an endearing way.

But using the same dialogue verbatim in the Resurrectionist carried a completely different meaning. Aziraphale who utters it in the show has no reason to be so ignorant about free will. Aziraphale who utters it in the show genuinely tries to defend Heaven. Most importantly, Aziraphale who utters it in the show, doesn't just idly bicker with his friend about general things but is judging an actual human individual that's right in front of them. That, more than anything else, makes it sound heartless and ignorant.

What is the problem with having two canons, exactly?

It's time to wrap things up.

In the opening paragraphs, I've mentioned that I've noticed the issue while interpreting scenes from S1, and yes, that was the case and I do believe that the existence of two canons is especially problematic for S1. That's because pretty much every scene in S1 is potentially like that dialogue about free will in S2, except subtler and harder to spot.

A grand majority of what we see and hear in S1 comes directly from the book. But while words and actions were kept, in some instances things that gave them their original meaning might no longer be valid in the show universe. Sometimes they easily take new meaning, and we don't even notice. But sometimes there's this dissonance that's not as easy to work around.

S1 deviated from the book and created its own canon. But the difference didn't seem to go very deep and it seemed perfectly reasonable to use some trivia from the book to shed some extra light on the content of the show. I used to do it in my head, even though I was aware of the changes that were made.

But S2 expanded the show canon so far beyond what was in the book that I'm really not sure it makes sense to compile them anymore.

There are a lot of things that were only explicitly stated in the book that I keep clinging to. But perhaps it's time to let go...

Thank you for your patience.

I know all of the above isn't exactly a revolutionary discovery, but I needed to get it off my chest before writing anything else.

#good omens #good omens 2 #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #good omens the book #differences between book and show #very long post #things I needed to get off my chest

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veintrry · 1 year

Text

the tension that rises between us.

wanderer x gn!reader, nsfw, grinding, finger sucking, consensual. reader's race, skin colour, sexuality, gender, body size is not specified/ anyone can read! not proofread, this is bad. 1.4k

let's just put it like this; one morning you wanted to be particularly annoying and this was the consequence of that. or reward. that's for you to decide.

AN: hi i hate this with a passion and by far this is one of my worst works ever lord what was I thinking

ac: lanamaru (tmblr)

You wouldn't have usually pulled this sort of thing, in fact, you never had. So why now? Your reasoning was pretty simple. Your dumb little mind seemed to have still not been fully conscious yet, and relying solely on your dumb mischievous ideas you didn't even give them a second thought. So, you could only guess the idea you got as you saw Scaramouche sleeping peacefully. On any other day you would've done anything to avoid waking him up, but today? Today was a day to try new things!

You inch a finger closer and closer to his cheek, and poke him. To your surprise he doesn't awake, and you can only assume its because he's gotten so used to being around you that he's softened up his defenses. Hastily crawling on top of him you get a good view of his face. GOOD view. You notice how nicely curled his lashes are, how his lips appear to be slightly darker on the inner part, how there's barely evident red stains near his eyes likely from his eyeliner. Only you get to see this, only you.

You rest on top of him, sat comfortably for yourself, and you move a hand to touch his face, but opt to only hover over his cheek as to not wake him. You began to wonder was this the sight that had lasted years? Unwoken, undisturbed. He looked so sweet like this, when he wasn't covering his feelings up. In a way, his vulnerability felt like an affection in its own way, after all it wasn't something easily granted.

"Kuni..." You whisper. You had practically forgotten you were meant to be annoying him, and at the reminder you completely changed what you're doing. You could say a slight curiosity came to you, one you couldn't erase... If he was to awake to see you like this, sat atop of him, he'd likely push you off, right? Or maybe he'd grumble about how you had disturbed his sleep. But, what if the circumstances were different.

Biting your bottom lip out of hesitation and slight nervousness, you slowly drag your hips up and down his groin. It felt lewd to do this, it wasn't really on your bucket list, but maybe it should've been. There is something that had you smiling to yourself as you peered down on him, you almost wanted to giggle at the sight of his sweet figure and soon you felt this rotting sweet sensation turn more needy. Even so, you didn't speed up. You just eyed him like a prey, mouth watering awaiting him. You rested a hand next to his head to have an even better view of the way his hair framed his face, to see how his jaw was slack and how his lips parted. You wanted to kiss them. You wouldn't though, not yet. A part of you, no, most of you wanted him to wake up. You didn't want to do it yourself, you wanted him to find you like this. You find yourself rewinding the idea of him seeing you like this, his reaction, what he'd say, what he'd think, and you attempt to keep those little whines of yours to yourself, that is, until you begin to speed up.

You let out short heavy breaths with each glide over him, feeling your core burn up you think its engulfing your entire body. Honestly, you must be shameless to do such a thing, if not that then you must simply enjoy the idea of being humiliated.

"You're so needy. Even I'm not this impatient."

You halt. Straightening your back, you look wide-eyed at him. It's not like you're actually shocked, but this is how people should react to being busted, right? "Ah, well... you looked pretty?" A brow lifted at your reasoning, giving you a humorous smirk. "I looked pretty. So you started grinding on me? I've never heard of people doing that."

Frankly, you didn't want to be interrogated for what you were doing, you didn't know why you did it either, impulses exist! Attempting to get off of him you move your hand away from his face and lift your leg over him before he's pulling you down again, hand gripping your wrist, pulling your face closer to his.

"Did I say you could stop now? You should know better than that. Finish what you started."

You feel a cold hand slither to your hips, holding you in place. Even though he was the one beneath you he still had a way to compel you with his eyes, it was honestly astonishing the power he held over you. "Don't tell me you've gotten shy, need my help?" His teasing was evident, he was making a mockery of you and yet you still wanted his aid, even you have your limits. "Yes. Maybe I do." You grumbled. "Hah, All you had to do was ask." He wasted no time in doing his task, leading your hips back into their previous rhythm. There was a way he gripped onto you when he felt you push deeper into him, like he was doing his all to keep his nails from digging into you. "To think you would've done something like this. You're absolutely shameless."

You replied with nothing but muffled sounds as you kept your mouth shut, biting your tongue. He didn't like that. No, he was always a fan of your sounds, after all no one else could hear them, not only that, but he was the cause. He was the reason for everything. That being said, he must confess that having woken to you like that, well, it was rewarding to him. To think you found him so attractive, that you liked him so much you just couldn't help yourself. But if you wished to make yourself feel welcome then he wouldn't protest.

The tip of Scaramouche's nose touched yours, his eyes lidded as he gazed at you with a calculating look as though he had you figured out. "Cat got your tongue?" He cocked his head to the side. There was no way you could muster a reply, no way you'd even want to. Covering your mouth to do your best as he pushed you harder onto him, at this point you didn't need him to guide you, you didn't even need to think of what to do, your hips rolled against him pleading for more friction, any friction against the bulge you can feel beneath you. You knew he liked it, no, he absolutely loved it when he had you for himself.

"That's no good." Releasing your wrist he reaches for the hand jailing the sweet sounds erupting from your throat, pulling it away with ease as you put up no fight. Your body was lazy, your eyes staring at his chest, only now realising the tight black clothing he had on. You were keeping yourself up with only one hand and even so you felt your strength slipping as you wanted nothing more than to just feel him. "Open your mouth for me." You spare a glance up at him, with want, not only for him, but to see him needing you too.

You separate your lips, mouth open awaiting his next move, and as you eye his facial expression, his satisfaction with your behaviour, how lustrous orbs eye you with such lust swirling within them. He picks up your jaw to get one proper look at you with drool spilling down your lips onto your chin. He swipes it off with his thumb, licking it. "All for me." He eyes his wet thumb, then you. Inserting two digits into your mouth, he speaks demandingly, "Suck." And despite his harsh tone, you feel your heart pump more and more. To you, this was no more than a sign of his want. So you do as he asks. Lacing your tongue around his fingers, taking them in, and bobbing your head as you even plant kisses on them.

You could hear his breathing, how unlike yours despite it being quieter, clearly an attempt from him to hide it. His breaths were heavy, but they asked for more. Scaramouche observed as you practically sucked his fingers off as though it was his very own cock. And he found his mind trailing far far away with new ways to toy with you after you're done entertaining him. Maybe you should do this more often.

#kunikuzushi #wanderer #wanderer genshin #wanderer x reader #genshin scaramouche #genshin smut #genshin scara #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche #scara x reader #scaramouche smut #wanderer smut #kunikuzushi x reader #kunikuzushi smut #genshin impact #genshin fanfic #genshin headcanons #wanderer headcanons #scaramouche headcanons

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stevelieber · 11 months

Text

Thoughts on giving critiques to comics artists.

Seeing lots of discussion from students about sour experiences with an unhelpful art teacher, so here's a long, long post about giving critiques.

NB: I have no formal training as a teacher, but I was a student, and I've spent decades giving artists feedback on their work.

When someone brings me a portfolio, I like to establish my limitations & clarify my perspective. My work is firmly rooted in traditional US comics storytelling (i.e., not manga or art-comics.) I can give feedback on other approaches but they should know where I’m coming from.

“We've only got a little time for this, so I'm going to spend that time focusing on things to correct. That doesn't mean you're doing everything wrong, or that there’s nothing good here, but it’ll be more helpful if I identify some problems and show you how to fix them.”

Why? Because for many young artists their entire sense of self worth is wrapped up in being good at what they do. (It was for me!) In school they were probably the best artist in their peer group. But now if they're hoping to turn pro, they’re at the bottom.

Sometimes you know what’s up when you see page 1, but try to keep an open mind. Some build their portfolios by sticking new pages at the back & don’t weed out the old stuff up front, so the work gets better as you go. When it’s like that I ask: “Show me your best 8 pages.”

I ask questions: "What's the goal? Do you want to be hired to work on someone else's project, or to get the story you're showing me here published?"

If 1, I steer towards a portfolio that'll showcase hirable skills. If 2, I look for what tweaks will make that particular story more effective.

"Do you have teachers giving you regular feedback? What are they telling you?" Sometimes a student is getting bad advice. In cases like that, I'll do my best to be extra clear WHY I'm giving them advice that's 180 degrees from what they've been hearing.

“What artists are you looking at? Is there someone you admire or try to emulate?” This often helps me understand choices they're making, and I can sometimes incorporate things those artists do into my suggestions.

I ask myself questions about what I’m seeing. First: Is there a narrative? If not, I make it 100% clear I'm not speaking as any sort of expert. I'm good at critiquing storytelling, but don't have anywhere near as much to offer illustrators or designers.

Can I follow the story? Or am I confused about what's going on? Are the characters and settings drawn consistently? If not, is the artist at least making use of tags (distinctive clothing, hair etc.) to keep the characters recognizable?

Does the artist demonstrate a good command of basic academic drawing? If not, Do I think they need it? Do I focus on "how to draw" or on "what to do when you can't draw?" Is the artist putting the viewer’s eye where it needs to be to tell the story effectively?

(At this point I’m usually doing little doodles to go with my instructions. I scribble out ugly little 5 second diagrams that I hope will clarify what I’m talking about. Or they might make me seem demented. Hard to say!)

Is the artist making choices that are creating more work than necessary? Is there a particular weakness? I once spoke to an artist with a portfolio full of great work when he was drawing animals and monsters, but his humans were amateurish in comparison. I spent that critique talking about drawing people.

A crit can be a grab bag. In addition to big-picture advice, I'll point out tangencies, violations of the 180-degree rule, wonky anatomy, weird perspective, places where the artist neglected to do important research, odd choices in how they spotted black, whatever catches my eye.

I also try to make a point of defining the terms, so that jargon like “tangency,” “180-degree rule,” and “spotting black” don't go over their heads. Find simple, concrete ways to talk about these things, & clarify why it's a problem when they aren't done correctly. Draw diagrams!

Recognize that even a perfectly phrased explanation might not sink in. Some lessons can only be learned when a student is ready, and it might take a year or two of work before they can understand what you were saying. It's good to plant seeds.

Are there other artists who are particularly good at solving the problems the student is trying to solve? I steer them towards that artist's work. And I always recommend life drawing & the use of reference to give work variety and authority.

Despite what I said earlier about focusing on what's wrong, I try at the end to find something encouraging to say. And if I’ve really piled on the criticism, I emphasize that I only spent the time and energy to do so because I take their efforts seriously.

If I've done my job right, they'll leave my table with tools to make their work better. And maybe in a few years they'll be looking at some younger artist's work, surprised to discover just how much you can learn when you're asked to teach.

#comics #protips #my work #comic book art #essays #teaching

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h0ney-mochi · 1 year

Text

Oh, dear Valentine of mine.

Scaramouche x reader ;; readers pronouns not mentioned

SMUT/NSFW CONTENT (sort of soft? scaramouche, top!scaramouche, bottom!reader, too long intro, it's just seggs bro)

Summary: Scara doesn't understand Valentines, but his mind is occupied with you. Coming home earlier than usual, he makes a little something for you, not knowing said dish won't be even touched for the night.

A/n: joining my favorite writer's and mutual's (@sumeruin ) collab event <3 Glad to be participating heheh, hope this is good enough to be in the event ٩(◕‿◕)۶ Go check out other ppls entries btw !!!! Happy late Valentines Day everyone <3

Minor writer, dni if uncomfortable!

Scaramouche didn't care for Valentines Day. Why would couples need a day about themselves, for themselves? To show off? Get a pass to makeout wherever they wanted to for a day? That's stupid reasoning. It's annoying.

He still thinks the same after being around you. Just a little, little less.

Yet when he wakes up and heads to the kitchen, he didn't expect you to be wrapping up a medium-sized gift. You didn't notice him, making sure all looked good, taping a small note on top. You jumped in surprise when you raised your head and saw him standing there.

"Oh-! Good morning!" You speak, smile on your lips as you walk to him. He raises his eyebrows at you and you give him a kiss. You whisper a simple Valentines greeting, quickly taking the gift and handing it to him.

"You don't need to open it now," you glance away, "You can do it after work. I heard your annoyed whispers when we went in that shop that already had decorations." Looking away from you and at the box, he slowly takes it, nodding.

"Will be better after work, so I get a distraction from my stupid colleagues," Scara speaks and you smile again. You ask about breakfast, but he says he needs to leave earlier. Of course you let him go, this was normal.

You knew he'll probably late home again. Maybe later just to not experience Valentines. Part of you did hope he'd come sooner. Oh well, another day, you should head out. Running out of few ingredients.

...

All day Scaramouche was uneasy. He did catch couples here and there, making him groan at the sight. Why in public? Seriously? Are they trying to prove something?

Yet his mind wandered to you. You're doing all these efforts for him, for the two of you. Not once were you unhappy about each occasion, event, or his attitude, whatever it was. His eyes glued onto the gift you gave him.

He should be with you, not here. And so he leaves, muttering something about an 'urgency.'

When he gets home, it's quiet. Making sure the place is all to himself, he decides to recheck his cooking skills! Thinking for first few moments of what did you like, what could he make for you?

Scara was really focused on doing the finishing touches to a dish for the two of you that he didn't even hear the door opening up. Only when you walk into the kitchen with a bag in hand, your voice breaking the silence.

He immediately turns to you, wide eyes. You stare at each other for a few seconds before you start giggling. His brows furrowed in confusement. What's so funny now? Are you making fun of him?

"Share the joke, idiot," Scara groans, "I've got shit to do." "You- you have icing on your face, darling," you say and laugh, covering your mouth. He blinks, hand reaching up to find it somehow. Then he sighs in frustration, muttering a 'shut up'.

He turns back to finish up with said icing.

"I'm right! There is something!" You say, walking past him, putting your bag down on the counter. A smile stayed your lips while the man said some more curses under his breath.

"You're back early, what's up?" You break the silence again. "What, I can't come home and see my darling?" Scara immediately responds, straightening his back, done with his work. You just shook your head, emptying the bag, putting the contents where they're supposed to be.

It was silent, which had you worried a little. You walk next to him and your eyes immediately catch onto the two dishes. You can't help but let out an 'awe.'

"Made this for us- you," He corrects himself, glancing at you before going to put other stuff away. You stare for a while before finally turning towards him to respond. Before you could start your sentence with a thanks, you're met with his lips against yours.

His hands immediately pulled you closer, holding you in place. You were caught off guard, but kissed him back. After a moment Scara pulled away, staring at you.

"I don't give a fuck about the dish, or about this day, not even the fact that half of the people made out in our stupid hallways," He groans, remembering his day, "It's weird."

You blinked then smiled, "Will there be a follow up?" He slowly nods, "The only thing I give a fuck about is you and how you're always here. I'm- that's weird to say, isn't it?"

"Scara, did you even open the gift I gave you?" You ask and he shakes his head. You nod your head to the side and he takes the hint. Leaving you he goes to get said gift you gave him in the morning.

Inside there were some chocolates, a letter type note you wrote for him, and a smaller different note. He looks at you, "You know I'm not the one for sweets." "That's why I got a new tea taste for you."

It went silent.

Scara was back in front you, taking your hand and pulling you away from the kitchen. "What- did you not like the gift? Was my handwriting hard to read-?" You ask, wondering. He shakes his head, pulling you inside the bedroom.

Once the door is closed, you're pushed against it, Scaramouche breathing in your neck. It sure as hell made you shiver. "No," he speaks, "Nothing's wrong." He lifts his head to look at your confused face, "Everything is how it should be."

...

His nails left marks in your skin from how hard he was holding you. Scara's breathing in your neck, harshly thrusting inside of you while you clawed at his back. Your eyes keep squeezing shut, yet you try to keep them open, to see your lover.

When Scaramouche straightens his back a little to watch you, noises slip past his lips. You're just too gorgeous like this — fucked out expression, warm cheeks, struggling to keep eye contact, your eyes rolling back.

He continues to stare, angling his hips in a different way just to see you turn your head to the side, feel your nails dig in his skin harder. Right then and there he knows he doesn't need anything else in this life other than you.

"[Name], fuck- Look at me," his hand leaves your thigh, going to hold your chin. You focus your gaze on his, a small smile tugging on your lips. His thumb rubs your cheek and Scara leans in for a kiss. Your hands go up to his neck, one hand tangling into his hair.

When you were down on the bed and having a messy makeout, you didn't think so much would happen in a day. A Valentines Day.

There was a stutter in his thrusts, Scaramouche pulling away from your lips. You took one of your hands away and intertwined your fingers with his. He squeezed your hand, nails digging at the back of your hand. You could tell he was trying to not break on top of you. Eyes getting more hazy, voice getting higher, moans mixing with yours.

You were his gift and he was yours.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer again. There's a sharp inhale and his other hand goes to hold onto your waist, pace a little rougher. The way you clench down on his cock is bringing him more and more to the edge.

His name sounds pretty on your tongue. He needs to hear more of it.

Scara leans down to suck another dark mark on your skin. Your head is thrown back, other hand is tugging on his dark hair. You've messed it up with all your desperate tugging. The air feels thick, the sheets feel troublesome and hot.

Your moans of his name get louder and he leaves your neck to look at you. He wants to see the expression on your face when you cum on his dick. He needs to know he has made you feel so, so good. It doesn't take long, his hand is squeezing yours again.

Your body shudders, eyes almost closing, but you keep that eye contact. Scaramouche thrusts inside you few more times until his fast pace drops. Heavy, warm sighs fill the silence. You blinked up at your lover. He swallows, focusing on your eyes once more.

"Scara?" You weakly smiled, "Does.. this mean you're my Valentine for the day?" He raises an eyebrow and you couldn't help, but let out a small laugh. "Does this mean you're mine?" He answers you with a question, leaning down to your face.

You nod, putting your hands around his neck again, "Of course." Scaramouche gives you a quick peck on your lips before responding.

"Let's get you cleaned up, dear Valentine of mine."

Thank you for reading <3 Enjoy your day with a cup of tea, reader. ♡

#☆°• ☆ writings #scaramouche x reader smut #scaramouche x you #scaramouche smut #scaramouche x reader #genshin x you #genshin x reader #genshin smut #genshin x reader smut #genshin impact x reader smut

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bamsara · 2 years

Note

20: "How long did you think that you could hide that?"

Sun Centric | Wordcount: 1,338 | AO3 Version

I pulled another Solar Lunacy bullet draft out for this prompt, so this is more of a SL crumb than it is a stand-alone drabble. Expect to see this scene again in SL, but maybe written better (and a different beginning and ending, some details more fitting, ect)

To be fair, you had done an excellent job hiding the limp you had so far.

It happened this morning. Routine schedule with a list of tasks and chores that required a cleaning cart's assistance to lug around all the tools and trash, except you got your wheel caught in the small gap at the entrance of the elevator, and your attempt to free it consisted of you pulling and pushing and praying to whatever was out there to dislodge the damn thing while profusly apologizing to the Pizzaplex goers behind you waiting impatiently for use of the elevator while you struggle.

Eventually, you get it dislodged. Yay! Unfortunatly, you twist your ankle when it pops out and you have to do some sort of ninja type of move to prevent from accidently being rolled over on. Only, you were a terrible acrobat, and now your ankle was throbbing and you didn't even have ibeprofen to help with it.

So! Power through it. You'll ice it when you get home. These paychecks won't earn themselves.

You don't allow yourself to limp because you don't want to get any stares or complaints from the families roaming the pizzaplex, or have any of the animatronics send you a concerned look (which makes you act particularly casual when Freddy comes around to say hi. The last thing you want to do is have the busy bear worry about you.) which means you're gritting your teeth and blowing air through your nose, but faking it until you make it seems to work.

That is, until you arrive at the daycare.

You bring a cart full of diapers, wipes and other important items for stock, the heavy lifting the last chore for the day but the one you were dreading the most. Sun greets you at the door, and behind him is a chorus of small voices that yell out greetings to you as soon as you walk in.

Friendly bunch, they are. You're glad the Daycare Attendant has his hands busy with the kids, so if you needed to lean on the desk for a moment, you probably wouldn't look suspisious. Rolling the cart in, you wave to the gaggle of children that sitting on the floor, gathered for story time probably, before wheeling the cart towards the shelves-

Metal hands come around your shoulders, stopping you in place. "My, my! You've brought us so many presents!"

You crane your head back. Sun's smile beams down at you, and you smile back. "Yeah! Hope you like diapers."

"I sure do! Keeps all the messy bits easy for quick cleaning." He jests, and as if on cue a couple of children give a very cute 'eewwwwww' in the background as you snort. Sun's head rotates completely, in full-jester mode. "Oh, you'll be joining us for story time, won't you? Won't you?"

You wave him off, forcing your face to remain plain and chipper despite the pain that was swelling up your leg at the moment. "Sorry, no can do. I gotta get these boxes sorted first-"

"Oh, but I think you can, and you will!" Suddenly, the hands on your shoulders are gripping a little bit tighter. You are all but guided (more like half-dragged) to where the gaggle of children are sitting in a circle and plopped in the middle. "In fact, you should take over! I've been telling the same fairy tales, all princesses and monsters and bears and rabbits-" Sun pats you on the back, non-chalant. "Why don't you tell a story, something new? I'm sure you have it in you friend."

As nice as it was to be sitting down on the mat where there wasn't a weight constant on your ankle, the several pairs of wide anticipating eyes of children was a little unerving. "Uh-"

"Good!" Sun reels back, hands on his hips. In one swift motion, his legs swivel around to start walking towards the cart and boxes, while his head and torso stay facing you and the children. "I'll take care of these gifts! Better this way, I have a very particular way of organizing things you know."

He leaves you there, and now you're stuck entertaining children until he's finished.

...Honestly? Not the worst thing he's done, and there's a sense of reflief since you're not standing anymore, so you'll play right into the game.

You tell the children stories about the horrors of what happens if you don't brush your teeth enough, of a boy that ate so many greens he became the strongest being in the world, of a dog that learned how to play basketball, of aliens that crashed into hawaii and made friends and a family there. Anything you can pull off the topc of your head, really, and lucky enough for you; they were eating the stories out of the palm of your hand.

Sun is quicker than you would have been putting away the boxes, and is at the ready for checkout when some of the first parents arrive to pick up their children. You continue to tell the stories even as your audience dwindles, answering questions when they raise their hands and resisting the urge to laugh when a little boy with glasses too big asks you if Santa Clause was an alien.

Sun finishes the stocking rather quickly, and instead retaking his spot, sits cross legged and joins the circle of children easgly waiting to hear your story. He even goes as far as to lightly clap when you're finished with one, the other children joining in just to mimick him. It's actaully really cute.

The last boy is checked out by his parents. You wave from your spot on the floor mat, not moving because you don't feel like it and uncaring if you looked a little silly to the mother. Sighing, you let relief out of your lungs as Sun closes and locks the Daycare doors behind them.

Sun literally cartwheels back to you, spinning on one heel before plopping down right in front of you. His height makes him tower over you even as you're both sitting down, and you're currently thinking about an excuse to say or mustering up the strength to stand on that leg again.

Sun leans forwards, head resting in his hands and smiling widly. "Looks like you've become quite the favorite around here!"

You return the smile, and move to get up. "Yeah, yeah. Just promote me at this rate and I can take your job all the time-"

A hand clasps around your knee and you wince. The preassure is genlte, not huritng, but heavy enough it forces you back down to the ground where you sit and stare at the Daycare Attendant's grip on your leg, and his thoughtful face as he hums. "And how long did you think you could hide that?"

A tug from your leg to free yourself, his grip doesn't budge. You almost pout. "...hide what?"

Fingers lessen around your pants leg, trail lower down to your ankle and hook underneath the fabric, pushing it up. There's a definate swollenness to your ankle now, more so than the last time you checked. Sun tuts at the sight of it. "This, friend."

Aw rats, you've been caught. "It's fine, I'm not a wuss."

"We never said you were!" Sun gasps, offended. A pause. "Well, I never said you were. Still a terrible idea, though."

Your shrug is half-hearted. "So? I can't exactly slack off, here. I'm already in hot water with managment and bills don't pay themselves."

"You are very lucky I was programmed with much patience!" Sun sounds like a mixture of frusteration, exasperation, and affection. It's a comforting tone of voice, so it doesn't alarm you right away until the animatronic's hands are reaching forwards, hooking underneath your knees and against your lower back before you can protest. "Onwards, to the first aid corner!"

"...Does this mean you've gotten a doctor's license yet?"

"I am not legally required to answer that question!"

#Solar Lunacy #writings #sun x reader #fnaf sb #fnaf sun #fnaf the daycare attendant #self insert #whump #crumbs #this is technically a crumb so im tagging it as crumbs #fnaf moon

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wolfjackle-creates · 2 months

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Bring Me Home Arc 3 Part 3

Again the winner of last week's poll! There won't be a poll this week because I'm planning something a bit different. I hit 1000 followers this past week and have been wracking my brain about how to celebrate! Wasn't up for doing prompts or adding more projects to my list, though, so I didn't want to go that route.

But I did come up with something that I think everyone will really enjoy. Especially those of you who have been voting for Carry Your Heart (I see you in the tags!). So look out for that post.

In addition, I've just posted the first chapter of Arc 2 on AO3! Link below.

Story Summary: Jack and Maddie install a new ghost shield on the house which activates the moment Danny tries to step into his home. His secret is out and his parents are determined to excise the ghost from their son.

Luckily Danny isn't alone. The Young Justice, Sam, Tucker, and Jazz aren't going to leave him to suffer.

Arc 1: AO3

Arc 2: AO3 (incomplete); Tumblr - First, Final

Arc 3: First, Previous

Word Count: 1.4k

-----

Fire rushing through him jolted Danny awake. His back arched as he cried out. He screwed his eyes tight, not wanting to see what torture his parents were going to come at him with next when he realized what the sound of his cry meant: the muzzle was gone.

As were the restraints. And he was lying on something soft. Trying hard not to hope, he opened his eyes.

Sam and Jazz were leaning over him, concern clear on their faces. They were in some sort of ambulance or van.

“How are you feeling,” demanded Sam.

Danny took a moment to answer, his chest was pure agony. He didn’t even want to think what it would feel like to sit up. And even past that, everything was sore. Though the fire that had woken him up had dissipated, the tell-tale feel of ecto-dejecto. “Pretty much the worst I’ve ever felt,” he answered honestly.

Sam and Jazz both winced and his sister grabbed his hand. He squeezed her fingers weakly.

At the foot of his bed stood Tim in full Red Robin getup and Kon as Superboy.

He couldn’t hold back the smile as he met Tim’s gaze. “You came,” he said.

Tim didn’t smile back, but some tension eased out of his shoulders. “I always will,” he said. “Been telling you that since we were ten years old.”

“I know. I’ve always known. Thank you.”

Jazz squeezed his hand again and he looked at her. “Red Robin and Superboy are going to take you away from here. Robin will help you recover.”

Sam nodded. “Yep. And the rest of us are gonna focus on making sure Amity is safe for ghosts once and for all.”

Danny shook his head. “I should be there with you guys, fighting.”

“Nope!” interrupted Jazz. “Not even a little. You’re going to focus on getting better, got it, Danny? That’s all we want from you.”

“But the ghosts—”

Sam covered his mouth with her hand. “Stop it right there. Tucker is working with Impulse and Wonder Girl to get the portal locked up. No one will be coming through. No one—ghost or human—will be in any danger while you’re gone. I promise.”

Danny slumped into the bed. Even the slight change in position caused waves of pain to radiate from his chest even through the healing ice he could feel implanted in his body. He whimpered and closed his eyes until the throbbing receded just a bit. “I trust you. I do, it’s just…”

“You’re used to taking care of everyone,” finished Jazz for him. “We know. So let us take care of you for a change. We love you, Danny.”

“Love you, too, Jazz. Sam.”

“Be good for bird-brain there, got it?” ordered Sam.

Danny gave her a half-smile. “Are Tim and I ever good together?”

She laughed. “Well, don’t burn down Gotham, capiche?”

“Capiche.”

“We have to go now,” said Jazz.

Danny gripped her hand tighter. “Don’t leave me.”

Jazz winced, but leaned down to kiss his forehead. “We need to make sure the Guys in White aren’t going to get involved further. And you need to get someplace safe.”

Danny huffed a half laugh. “Gotham is safe?”

Jazz rolled her eyes at his poor attempt at a joke. “For you it is. Now, I’m leaving Red and Superboy with a case full of ectoplasm for you and our entire supply of ecto-dejecto. I just gave you your first injection. Please try and eat something and drink your ectoplasm regularly.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say, Jazz.”

Jazz sniffed and it was only then that Danny realized it was wetter than usual and her eyes were watery. He tried not to feel bad for his jokes when she replied, “Yes, it is whatever I say. Glad you agree.”

Sam cackled, and now that he was paying attention, Danny could hear the hysterical edge to it. “You’d better text us multiple times a day, ghost boy. Don’t try and lie to us, either. Kon’ll tell me the truth about your condition. And as soon as we can arrange it, we’re coming out your way for a visit.”

“Course I will, Sam. Give Tuck my best?”

“Duh. He wishes he could’ve come with us, you know.”

Danny nodded. “But he’s better with the tech stuff and that is just as time sensitive.”

“Yeah. Now, get some sleep,” Sam ordered. “You’ve got a long drive ahead of you.”

Danny gave the rote answer after too many all-nighters taking care of ghost attacks before school, “I’m dead, I don’t need sleep.”

His sister squeezed his hand. “Ghosts who just went through what you did need their sleep. Love you, Danny. Get well and I’ll see you soon.”

“Love you, Jazz.”

She kissed his forehead one more time, followed by Sam. And with another two rounds of farewells and love yous, he was alone with Tim and Kon.

“Thanks for coming,” he said again.

“Obviously we weren’t going to leave you there,” said Kon. “Being a lab subject isn’t fun. Especially not that kinda lab experiment.”

Danny couldn’t quite hold back the flinch at that description. It was accurate, but blunt.

Tim walked over until he was sitting by Danny’s bed. “Just listen to Jazz and get some rest. We’re going to be taking the long route to Gotham by going south to start. If we stop for food in a few hours, think you could handle a smoothie?”

Danny shrugged and bit back a yawn. “Could try.”

“That’s all I ask.”

Kon moved towards the front of the vehicle as well. “Looks like it’s time for us to skedaddle. I’ll keep the road from jostling you, ghost-boy.”

Danny gave a small smile and let his eyes close. As he did, he tried to mumble his thanks and he hoped it came across.

---

The next time he woke was more gentle. Someone was tapping on his shoulder and calling his name. But even so, as he was pulled closer to awareness, the pain made itself more and more known. He tried to cling to the darkness, but the tapping wasn’t stopping, nor was the person calling him.

He blinked open his eyes to see Tim’s concerned face. He wasn’t wearing the domino anymore, or his costume. Just a sweatshirt and jeans.

“Hey, Danny,” said Tim. “I’m going to need you to try and eat a bit right now. Kon got us those smoothies I mentioned. I’ve also got yogurt if that’ll be easier for you. But the smoothie will have more nutrients.”

Danny closed his eyes. He wasn’t hungry and didn’t want to eat. Why did Tim have to bring him back to consciousness for this? He hurt and just wanted to sink back into oblivion.

The tapping on his shoulder began again. “I know, Danny. But you have to eat something. And you should take some ectoplasm, too. So just stay awake for a few minutes.”

“Mm ‘wake,” said Danny without opening his eyes. He shifted his weight, hoping to push himself up to eat, only to scream in pain as his chest protested any movement.

“Shit! Don’t move,” said Tim too late. “I’ve got a spoon here. I’ll feed it to you, okay? So just stay exactly where you are.”

Danny gripped his sheets, unable to do anything else as wave after wave of pain over took him. Tim kept up a litany of reassurances and stroked his hair. Eventually, Danny was able to think past it again.

“Don’t think I can sit up,” said Danny.

“Of course not,” agreed Tim. He held a styrofoam cup between his knees and carefully took off the lid and straw. “Just let me. Take at least a few bites. Swallow as is, don’t try and chew. Just do what you can, okay?”

“Okay,” agreed Danny and Tim fed him the first bite.

Danny hated this. Hated it so much. Here he was being spoon fed like a baby all because his parents… He shut his eyes and took the next bite. He wasn’t going to finish that thought. Tim was here and that’s what mattered.

Danny wasn’t sure how much he ate, but it couldn’t have been much. His eyelids were getting heavier and heavier and the pull of oblivion stronger.

“Wait, Danny. Stay awake just a little longer, okay?”

Danny groaned but forced his eyes open again.

Tim showed him a bottle of ectoplasm. “Just a few swallows of this, too. Okay?”

He didn’t want to. He’d rather just go to sleep again, but he opened his mouth obediently. By the time he finished his third spoonful, he couldn’t fight it anymore and slumped into the bed. The pain receded back into blackness for a time.

-----

If you want to be notified when I update, please check out the Subscription Post!

Danny is going to be getting all the comfort throughout this. All of them will, tbh. Because no one is happy and they all need a hug or five.

Let me know what you think!

#dpxdc #danny fenton #tim drake #jazz fenton #sam manson #aftermath of torture #fleeing to safety #sam tucker and jazz will manage things in amity #and the justice league will be getting involved

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angrypizzaflowercolor · 26 days

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Kara let out a huge sigh of relief as she finally landed on the balcony of their penthouse. It was quite late so the kids should be in bed already. Or so she thought.

She walked into the living room with a smile on her face as she saw her 3 year old daughter, Alexis, floating upside down and Lena reading a book, occasionally turning to look at their daughter.

"What's going on here?" Kara asked.

As soon as Alexis caught sight of her, she immediately flew to Kara, almost knocking her wind out. "Ieiu." The girl exclaimed

"Hey munchkin. Why are you not in bed? You giving mommy a hard time?"

Alexis flew in circles around Kara. "I not tired."

Kara immediately knew that they were in for a long night. Alexis was their wild child since birth. A little girl full of energy at all times.

"Can I have a moment with your mommy real quick?" Kara asked, catching her daughter and kissing her cheeks. "Is that okay with you."

"Okay." Alexis stated simply, rocketing to her bedroom

Kara cringed. "Probably should have asked her to walk.

"Would she have listened though." Lena chuckled. "Come here." She smiled.

"Hi babe." Kara said softly as she walked towards Lena. Lena got up and Kara pulled her into a kiss. "Do you know how long I've been thinking about kissing you." Kara chuckled.

"We did have quite a day at the tower. Didn't really get time alone. Plus, I had a whole lot of things to sort out with the foundation."

"And I had supergirl and Catco all day." Kara sighed, resting her forehead against Lena's. "Can't we just quit? Take the kids, move to Argo. Have a peaceful life there."

Lena pulled Kara in for another kiss, deeper this time. "Your day could not have been that bad." She chuckled

Kara kissed Lena's cheek then made her way past her to the kitchen. "No, it wasn't, but I miss you and the kids. Gabs and Nixon wake up after I've already left. When I come home they're in bed, and even though the twins are at the tower with us, I never really get to spend time with them because Supergirl has been very busy lately, and you...my lovely wife. We basicsply need to sneak in makeout sessions when no one is looking."

Lena giggled at the last part. "You make a fair point."

"So we can move to Argo?" Kara asked hopefully.

Of course she knew they wouldn't. Their family was on earth. All the people they cared about. Ontop of that, they've worked really hard to get where they are. This was their home, and it was the only home their kids knew.

"No. But... if you want...we can do other things." Lena smirked

"Oh." Kara said with a raised eyebrow. "Like what?"

She started to make her way closer to Lena, pulling her closer by the waist once she got to her. She kissed Lena's neck and she felt Lena put hand in her hair and lightly scratch at her scalp.

Just as Kara was starting to feel better about her day, she heard crying coming from Raven's room.

Lena sighed with a little giggle. "Now both the twins are up."

"Yeah. I'll wrangle the wild one, while you check on Ray Ray. It's probably a nightmare."

Kara kissed Lena one more time.

Lena was the only one who could calm Raven down when she had nightmares, which unfortunately she had often. So Kara went looking for Alexis, who clearly was trying to play a game of hide and seek. Kara listened for her heartbeat and went to get her.

"Got you." She said once she caught her daughter.

"You cheat." Alexis stated with crossed arms and a pout that resembled her own.

"How." Kara chuckled picking the young girl up.

"Super hearing." She said trying to wiggle out of Kara's arms, but giggling as Kara tickled her. "Ieiu stop."

"Okay." Kara said flipping her daughter up side down and carrying her to her room by her feet.

They got into the room and Kara put the girl into bed. They talked for almost an hour before the little girl finally gave in to sleep.

Kara made her way to Raven's room, where Lena sat sniffling, rubbing tears from her eyes.

"Babe." Kara whispered as she motioned for her to come to her.

Lena got up, kissing their daughter on the cheek, making sure she was tucked in properly before walking out of the room and closing the door.

Kara immediately pulled Lena into her arms.

"I just fucking hate that we can't do anything about these fucking nightmares she keeps getting." Lena sobbed in frustration.

Kara started to feel tears prick at her own eyes. Raven had always had awful nightmares. They traumatized her and caused some struggles in her everyday life. She lived in fear.

They tried speaking to specialists but they couldn't quite pin point what the problem was. So everytime she had a nightmare, all they could do is have Lena go in to sit with her until she falls asleep.

Kara led Lena towards their bedroom and the two sat down. Lena laid her head on Kara's shoulder. "I missed you." Lena whispered.

"Ditto."

"Bitch." Lena exclaimed lifting her head from Kara's shoulder and punching her.

"What." Kara chuckled.

"Ditto? Really?"

"Sorry." Kara shrugged

"...say it." Lena said with squinted eyes.

"What?" Kara smiled

"Say...it."

"Say what?"

Lena pushed Kara down into the bed and straddled her waist. "Tell me you missed me." She giggled

"I actually had such a peaceful few hours without you."

"Kara Zorel-Walsh...say it." Lena said as she hovered over Kara, their lips inches apart.

"Mom?" Came a voice.

Lena quickly jumped off Kara and straightened herself out, Kara doing the same.

"Come in." Kara said

Nixon walked in with a concerned expression on his face

"Hey, what's wrong baby?" Lena asked.

Nixon walked into the room and stood in front of them. "I heard you crying." He said softly

Lena sighed. "I forgot to turn on the power dampeners. Sorry darling."

"Don't apologize mom. Are you okay? Is LJ okay?"

"Yes. I'm fine. Raven is fine. You just know how I get sometimes." Lena reassured taking her son's hand. "I promise, I'm fine." She said after seeing that the expression hadn't left his face.

He smiled as her turned to look over at Kara. "Hey ieiu." He gave Kara a tight hug and she made sure to hold him tight.

"I'm here for mom and LJ, bubba, okay. Don't you worry too much."

"Okay." He smiled. "I love you moms."

"We love you too darling. Now go get some rest okay."

Nixon left the room and Kara and Lena fell back onto the bed. "Maybe we should quit our jobs." Lena chuckled. "Being moms is already a full time job, and ontop of that, I'm running L-Corp, the foundation and fight crime, and you fight crime and have to manage Catco."

"Yep. Lots to do and not much time to do it."

They sat in silence for a bit before Kara looked at the time. "Hey, I'm gonna go and take a shower. Do you wanna join me."

Lena smiled. "Absolutely."

"C'mon." She chuckled, pulling Lena up.

Kara pulled Lena into a kiss and she started backing into the bathroom, not breaking the kiss and slowly pulling off their clothes.

They heard a door open. "For fucks sake. Why did we have so many kids." Lena sighed

"I can hear you." Gabriella called out as she came down the passage.

"The power dampeners." Kara groaned.

They walked out of their bathroom, into the bedroom where their eldest daughter stood, arms crossed over her chest.

"Sorry angel." Lena smiled. "You know we love you all."

Gabriella rolled her eyes but smiled. "Alexis is gonna sleep in my room tonight."

"She woke up again?" Kara asked in disbelief

"Yep. She's in my room playing with some of her toys."

Lena took a deep breath. "We'll take her to bed now."

"It's fine." Gabriella said. "I'm gonna be up for a while anyways. I'm working on some stuff for the foundation."

"New ideas?" Lena asked

"Yep. I'll show them to you tomorrow when you have time."

"I'll make time." Lena smiled

"Okay, well, that's all I wanted to tell you. Goodnight."

"Goodnight fruit loop." Kara called out.

Lena used the switch in their room that turned on the dampeners for the whole penthouse. Then walked to Kara again. "Surely there can't be more they need from us." She laughed

"I hope not." Kara chuckled. "But with them, you never know."

"Well...for now. Let's take the time we have and make good use of it."

"Get some sleep?"

"Exactly." Lena smiled. "Now, let's go shower so that I can get into my PJs and sleep." Lena groaned

Kara followed behind her. So much for other things

Firstly, I need someone who can write smut for me please😭 I can't do it, and I have stories that are basically ready to be put out, but I want to add smut, but can't write it. So if anybody wants to do that. Just send me a message

Anywaaaaaays. Wrote this real quick because I just wanted to post something. This is kind of an introduction to the Zorel-Walsh kids because I will be writing more stories with them in it. And it just shows some of how Kara and Lena handle thing with their family

#supercorp #domestic fluff #fluff #supergirl #kara x lena #kara danvers #kara zor el #lena luthor #kid fic #wlw #ao3

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m1ssunderstanding · 1 month

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Understanding Lennon McCartney Rewatch Part 4.1

This is embarrassing but I'm actually so obsessed with the first five minutes of this episode that I've got it bookmarked in my YouTube account. It's just so perfect!

“Say you don't looooove him, my salamander. Then why did you neeeeeeed him? Ono don't answer.” He genuinely thinks need and love are the same and I really hope he's got therapy for that messed up mindset by now.

Officially honored as the most successful musical composer and recording artist of all time. That damn well better be mentioned in his movie. And people still don't take him seriously. But also. John definitely smashed his TV.

I'm screaming. I love Linda the promoter so fucking much!! Interviewer: I knew a lot of your records had went gold and platinum and– Linda: a lot of them? All of them! Ugh I wish she was still with him now.

And then THIS! “What really happened between you and John?” As the first notes to “I Will Survive” play. It's too good. Everyone has to go watch that bit right now.

Linda coming in for the kill again with her fake posh accent: critics? Critics? Oooooh! … They're always three years behind.

Look at him (to the tune Bitch by Meredeth Brooks) he's a whore, he's a father, he's a star, he's a success, he's a lover he's smug, he's laughing, he's having fun, he's working hard. He's everything.

Interviewing Wings concert goers and this one girl goes, "oh I just got off on all of it" and another one goes “It was great, i came twice!” Literally it should've been me!!!!

The McCartneys are seriously such a big family. And it's been Paul's responsibility since was about 21, really, to make sure they're all okay financially. That Francie story of him crumbling in the street in Liverpool haunts me.

"Why shouldn't they go to the same school as everyone else goes to?" State schools should be the only legal schools btw.

I love what the creator does to contextualize their songs by pairing them with other contemporary footage. It makes it much easier for me to understand why something like “arrow through me” (which I love but none of the people I've shown it to do) would've been so popular.

Oh here we go again. Just show us the marriage certificate already.

Cackling at the contrast between “Old Siam Sir” which is one of my all time fav rockers and footage of the Stones being cringe AF and Dylan being so beyond done he's basically dead.

Oh. Okay. And then they slap us in the face with John's poor baby late 70s demo voice crooning, “Don't want your looooove. Anymore.” “I die each time I hear your name.” I'm fine. It's fine. I'm just vomiting my guts out because I'm sick. That's why.

The pairing of “Mr H Atom” with Paul's would've-been drag show is genius, but what is that clip of some sort of trial stuck in there? If anyone knows, please inform me. (16:15)

John sounds so sad talking about the “endless search for . . . Scotland . . . Within an hour of New York.” I can't help thinking of the Mull of Kintyre. But John was also the one who turned Paul on to Scotland in the first place, ≈always waxing poetic about the heather and the hills≈.

Sean is so adorable. Reminds me of my little guy a bit actually.

Why do I always want to tell Paul to be nice to John? John is worse to him. Idk maybe because John's pain is more visible.

#paul mccartney #the beatles #john lennon #mclennon #Linda McCartney #ulm #understanding lennon mccartney

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some-pers0n · 7 months

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I've got a couple messy feelings on Cleril and how the fandom treats it, so here. Take this rant.

TL:DR: Cleril is good you guys. Trust me.

Maybe it's a sign that the brainrot from writing murderers and people who are so far gone from the general norm being able to be soft and sweet is killing the last remaining sense of reason in me, but I don't think Cleril is as bad as people make it out to be.

Yeah, obviously at first glance this should never work. Saying that Peril isn't the most stable character in the series would be a massive understatement. She is constantly characterized as reckless, clingy, emotionally dependent, and always puts herself down as a monstrous dragon only capable of hurting others. Clay has never shown any sort of romantic interest in her, only being passive and sweet with her in a platonic sense. Peril on the other hand loves Clay to the point of obsession. She practically makes him her moral compass. That sort of idealization isn't healthy.

And...you'd be correct. In that state? There isn't too much of a connection there to begin with. If it were to happen right now, I think it would mostly be out of Clay feeling pity towards Peril. He wants her to be happy and is kind of self-sacrificing like that, but, I don't think he could handle being the dragon who she puts all of this pressure on. To be somebody who she centers everything around.

But, Peril isn't really that dragon anymore. It's like people read Escaping Peril, get to the end, and then think: "Oh wow she sure developed. Not enough to be a healthy character!!" as if Escaping Peril didn't end with her burning Darkstalker's scroll and thinking to herself that she didn't mind if Clay wouldn't approve of it. She was acting on her own volition. She knew that burning it was the correct thing to do. She's moved on from treating Clay like this centerpiece in her soul. This dragon who she treats more like an idea of her conscious to keep her on the right track. She's improved. Getting better.

Peril is a character I think is misunderstood by a lot of people, especially ones that aren't really in her position. I don't wanna be an arm-chair psychologist and spout nonsense, but Peril is heavily traumatized and reminds me a lot of people who get out of these horrible situations and are trying to adapt to a new and scary world all on their own.

Peril had an awful childhood. She was raised to be dependent on Scarlet. Scarlet was the only dragon who was keeping her from being thrown off a cliff by an angry mob. She was manipulated and gaslit into believing that what Scarlet did was good. That Scarlet was the only one who cared about her. That these kind of horrible and unhealthy relationships are something she thinks is normal. When Clay comes around, she does the exact same thing. Puts him on a pedestal. The concept of being treated as anything but a monster is completely foreign to her, so she instantly grows attached. She thinks he loves her. Why else would he be so kind? She associates basic compassion with love because that's what she's been raised to believe.

But, she's healing. Throughout Escaping Peril we see her come to terms with her childhood. She understands that she is not a monster, but rather a dragon who was a victim of her circumstances. She is not the same, volatile, unpredictable dragon she was in TDP. People still think of her as that, when she certainly isn't anymore. She's so much better.

Her arc is one about bettering yourself. That, no matter how hurt you were, you deserve to be loved. You deserve to be treated with respect and kindness. You are not a monster. You are capable of love. You are not a heartless being. There are people who care about you. There are people who will stand by your side and help you. There are people who love you.

People never talk about Clay's side of Cleril either. People barely even discuss about Clay for that matter. He's so much of a nothing character in the eyes of the fandom, reduced to little more than Peril's partner who can give big hugs.

But, Clay is like Peril is so many ways. That was one of the many reasons they both got along. Clay and Peril were brought up as unfeeling monsters. Born killers who cannot change their fate. Clay believed in it. That no matter what he tries telling himself, he's a murderer. That at his very core he wants nothing more than to tear out somebody's throat.

But, he learns. He is kind. He is compassionate. He is patient, earnest, sweet, loyal, and above all: loving. He is not a monster. He is more than the labels placed upon him. Only he can define himself through the actions he makes in the present. He is more than the mistakes of his past. He is Clay. He is not Clay the Killer, or Clay the Destroyer, or Clay the Monster. He is Clay.

Him and Peril are alike in so many ways. Clay is the final result of Peril's journey. She's still struggling, but she's making progress. She's developing and changing into somebody better. She's making amends for her mistakes. She's going to be somebody bigger than the labels that were placed on her. She will no longer be Peril, Scarlet's Champion. She will be Peril, known for her fierce loyalty, undying love for her friends, and being the one to burn brightest in the darkest of times.

I believe they can love each other. I believe that Peril can love another dragon and not be extremely clingy or dependent. I believe that Clay and Peril can help each other.

Call be a hopeless romantic or a optimist, but I believe in love. I believe love can help others through their struggles. I believe in people being able to change and grow beyond who they were. Above all, I believe in hope for a brighter future for anybody who has been hurt in the past.

#wof #wings of fire #Really putting the 'rant' part in that #Peril wof #clay wof #cleril #cleril wof #sp-rambles

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lurkingshan · 3 months

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Japanese QL Corner

ICYMI: There are so many Japanese qls airing weekly, so I’m going to start posting this little round up at the end of each week. All but one of these are on Gaga and I highly recommend watching!

Chaser Game W

Fuyu got a personality transplant this week and I have officially given up on this show being what I hoped it was. Enjoy the mess and the humiliation kink and don't look for consistent writing, logical plot, or deeper themes and you will find some things to enjoy. Like these two beautiful ladies making out a bunch!

Sukiyanen Kedo Do Yara ka

I love this show so much, y'all. This week we got the return of Sakae's selfish chaos ex, Mizuki, and because this is a show by and for adults, this resulted in our leads engaging in some proper communication, clarifying their feelings for each other, and sharing their first kiss by the end of the episode. I loved seeing more of Sakae and Mizuki's dynamic, and I just know if Soga wasn't in the picture Mizuki would already be in with Sakae again. Sakae is a soft touch and Mizuki clearly knows how to play him. But thankfully, Soga has already wormed his way into Sakae's loyal heart, so he was not tempted to waver. And for Soga, who is experiencing a queer awakening via his relationship with Sakae, Mizuki's presence was a much needed jolt to sort out his own feelings and decide he wants to try a relationship despite his concerns about not staying in Osaka long-term. I also loved the way their friends rallied around them to push Sakae and Soga to figure their shit out, and the sauna scenes will never get old.

Perfect Propose

It's official, I have adopted Kai as my child and will be forming a protection squad. This show is striking a good tonal balance of being fairly downbeat and serious, between Kai's past and Hiro's current work/life balance issues, but also uplifting in how their relationship builds. I like that they talk to each other so honestly about what they're feeling for each other, and Kai's quiet confidence that Hiro returns his feelings and just needs to come to terms with it is both hilarious and correct. My favorite thing that happened in this episode was Kai confidently noting all the ways Hiro’s body was responding to him and asking him to “be conscious of it.” Kai wants Hiro to be conscious of Kai’s feelings but also of his own responses, and he’s asking him not to look away from it and pretend he doesn’t know there’s something between them. I love the confidence of that.

And I sympathize with Hiro, as well, because it's not just that he's never considered being with a man before--he also just doesn't feel he has anything to offer to a partner right now given his brutal work situation. His guilt and shame for missing the festival after inviting Kai to go together was real, and you can see that he just can’t fathom having anything to give with the situation he’s in at work right now. The trick will be trusting that Kai can accept those limitations until he’s able to find a better balance, and then actually taking steps to pay attention to what he needs and wants, both in this relationship and in his career. Hiro has not been taking care of himself and it's catching up to him.

Ossan's Love Returns

A downbeat week for this show, and an episode that did not entirely work for me. I liked some of the themes they were exploring in this one, but it was all missing the humor that I've come to rely on and I don't feel that all the story threads pulled together as tightly as they normally do. In particular, my head is inquisitively tilted at the show's decision to make Maki and Haruta's wedding episode feel like such a misery slog, to focus primarily on the tension and strife leading up to the event rather than the joy it should inspire, and then to stay in the melancholy after a small moment of catharsis for our couple (and some season 1 flashbacks) by focusing on the sadness their marriage inspired in their various lonely suitors rather than their own wedded bliss. Seeing a wedding in jbl is a practically unheard of occurrence; a bit more queer joy was in order IMO and its absence was notable. I also thought the swing from Kurosawa beginning to accept a new role in Haruta’s life to suddenly going back to being lovelorn felt abrupt and poorly constructed. It's not that I think these ideas are unfounded given the show's focus on older male characters who feel past their prime for romance, but the execution was not quite right. And of course I am not too keen on the death flagging we got at the end for Kurosawa; I really hope the show will not take this story in a tragic direction for him.

Tsukuritai Onna to Tabetai Onna 2

I have still only seen the first four episodes of this; sadly, the next batch is not yet available to me. But soon! In the meantime, let's revisit Nomoto sobbing over a lesbian film. She's just like me fr.

Next week we'll be continuing all of these plus adding My Strawberry Film, the final Drama Shower (go here for an explanation on what that is from @bengiyo) show for the season! I continue to be delighted by this embarrassment of jql riches.

#chaser game w #sukiyanen kedo do yaro ka #perfect propose #ossan's love returns #tsukuritai onna to tabetai onna #she loves to cook and she loves to eat #japanese bl #japanese gl #japanese ql corner #shan shouts into the void

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yanderewritingdump · 7 months

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Your shy neighbor definitely knows you heard him through those thin walls. (Part 1)

MDNI, no pronouns used but implied female reader, no smut this chapter but Reg is thirsty. Mention of a mouse.

I've got no clue where I'm going with this tbh.

Reg knows you heard him. Every time he sees you now your face flushes such a pretty color and you can't manage to look him in the eye when you greet him the handful of times you've crossed paths in the past week.

He'd feel embarrassed about it, but the way you were eyeing him in the rarely working elevator door's reflection makes him want to do it again. He’d make sure that you got to hear your name loud and clear while he got off. He especially likes the way your eyes linger on his hips and thighs. He wasn’t the most muscular man by any means, but he knew he was strong enough to manhandle you and fuck you any way you asked.

And he wanted you to ask.

Some part of him pondered on the how it was kind of messed up that he found it harder to say anything to you than have you listen to him through the wall while he came, but he was kind of messed up. That was the only way he could explain how he needed to find a reason to be outside of his apartment to look at you every time it sounded like you were about to leave yours. He was starting to wonder about putting some sort of plant out in front of his door just to have one more reason to be out there. If he grew flowers, would you make a comment to him and tell him how pretty they were?

Reg watched you sneak glances at him in the doors’ reflection two more times. He was too mesmerized by the smell of your perfume and soap swirling around him to be subtle about how he was looking at you. He wanted to cup your ass as perfectly as your dark pants. He wanted to see how pretty your new lipstick looked when it was smeared from his kisses. What would your carefully applied makeup look like after he buried his face between your thighs until you pushed him away? He might frame the stained bedding just so he could look at it and think about the feeling of your thighs pressed against his ears and how you taste. He wanted you, in his life, in his arms, in his bed. He wanted you like he wanted his next breath.

It was only once the elevator dinged for your floor that he noticed your flushed face pointedly turned away and caught sight of his dark, intense look. His long, disheveled hair and the sleepless, sunken look of his eyes made him look more threatening than inviting. Especially with the way he was gripping the railing on either side of his hips hard enough to make his knuckles blanch and his vein to pop. At least the thick fabric of his jeans and rumpled shirt lessened how obvious his growing arousal was.

It was not a picture that made him look safe. Or sane.

He was cursing himself as you hurried off, taking long strides to reach your apartment faster without looking back at him. He wanted to chase after you, tell you that he would never hurt you, but that would probably make it worse. Maybe he could knock on your door later and say that he had gotten too many of your favorite cupcakes from a client and couldn’t eat them all to make you think he was nicer. Not that you needed to know that he kept a batch in his freezer just because he had heard you complain to a friend that they were so good but too expensive for you to get regularly.

Obviously, he messed up somewhere, and he would die if you started avoiding him or thought he was dangerous to you.

He set the cupcakes out to thaw once he slunk into his own apartment. It would be more plausible if he didn’t hand you cupcakes that were frozen solid, right? He should probably shower and shave too, make a slightly better impression on you than when he was staring at you and fantasizing about how your makeup would stain his bedding.

About the time he had decided on his plan and taken his shirt off, you screamed.

You were potentially a little too easily startled. Typically, you could manage to just yelp or jump a little, but realizing something small and fuzzy happily gnawing on the snack you were reaching for on your counter was enough for an actual scream. You were having a stare down with the small rodent you thought might be a mouse. Clutching a hand over your chest, you wondered if your housekeeping had given you a rodent problem, when your front door slammed open. There was your neighbor, shirtless and even more rumpled looking than he had been when he looked like he was undressing you in his mind. His dark eyes were wide as he found you standing in the kitchen unharmed.

“Are you okay?” he asked, scanning your body before looking around your cluttered apartment. That might have been the first time that he had actually spoken to you in the three months that you’d lived beside him, and the low, husky quality of his voice caught you a little off guard.

You felt the embarrassed flush start creeping up your neck as he took in the state of your apartment. “Uh, yeah,” you managed weakly, trying to keep your eyes away from dangerous new territory available to you. “Yeah, sorry. I got surprised by an unwelcome guest.” You chewed your lip, looking back at the rodent, who surprisingly seemed undisturbed by the noise as it turned back to the bag of dried fruit it had chewed open. Your neighbor made a noise of understanding when he followed your gaze to the little brown creature gnawing away. You glanced back at him, flustered at his presence in your home after the frankly pornographic noises you had heard last week, the look he had given you minutes ago, and the fact he had burst in. Now you would have to ask him to get the rodent out of your apartment like a wimp because you really, really didn’t want to have to touch it and get potentially get bitten because you didn’t know how to handle it or what it may have had. “I-I hate to ask, but do you think you could get it out of here?”

You didn’t want to seem lame. He was attractive in a messy, sleep derived way. And . If he’d seemed any more approachable, you would have flirted with him.

He nodded briskly, squeezing past you into the kitchen. His chest brushed against yours, despite his best intentions it seemed, and heat and the smell of coffee wafted off of him. He scooped the creature up with a practiced hand, and you back out of the way, mystified as he walked out of your apartment and turned in the direction of your other neighbor. He didn’t say a word as he knocked on the door and handed the creature to a girl that looked to be in middle school. He did manage to grunt out, “You’re welcome,” when she cradled the animal and thanked him for finding “Minnie.”

Of course it was a pet mouse named Minnie. You were just glad you hadn’t had a more violent reaction to finding it and that your neighbor had known about it.

You lightly caught his elbow as he moved to go back to his home. “Thank you. I probably would have set Minnie outside to be hawk food if I had caught her,” you murmured, hopefully low enough for the girl not to hear you.

He shrugged, dark eyes looking down at you a little too intensely for a moment. “It’s nothing. Here’s my number. Next time something happens, call me. I’m good at getting rid of pests.”

#yandere oc #yandere male #yandere oc x reader #afab reader #male yandere #yandere x reader

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