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eyelessfog · 1 year

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Shelby frowns at the still blackened and dead stone of Glimmergrove’s castle. “This blows,” she tells no one.

“Thar’ she blows!” Agrees a familiar voice, and Shelby hangs her head.

“Shut up, Joe,” Shelby tells him. There’s a quiet gasp, and Shelby turns, panicked. “Don’t shut up, Joe!” she corrects, glancing between Katherine and Pirate Joe.

Katherine’s brows are furrowed, and her mouth is downturned in a sad frown, but Joe seems entirely unfazed by the idea of Katherine realizing that they’re not nice to each other.

“I thought you guys were friends now?” Katherine says, voice wobbly.

“We are!” Shelby tells her. “Promise! I’m sorry!”

“It’s true, we are. And!” Joe winks at Shelby. “Apology accepted.”

As she usually does when in the general vicinity of both Katherine and Joe, Shelby stops herself from telling Joe that she wasn’t talking to him.

“Right,” Shelby says dryly. “Anyway, what’s the occasion? We don’t usually all show up here at the same time if there wasn’t a party planned.”

“Oh,” Joe says, raising a hand. “That’s my fault. I made Katherine show me how to work her boats. Dropped in unplanned and all that. You know how it goes!”

Shelby makes a face. “And you actually gave him the tour?”

Katherine shrugs. “I like my boats. Not gonna pass up the chance to show them off!”

“Yeah! It’s fine,” Joe says decisively. “It’s not as if I’d steal them.”

Realization dawns on Katherine’s face. “Oh. I didn’t think of that.”

Shelby turns her laugh into a cough, and Joe doesn’t even make the attempt. Katherine, good sport that she is, rolls her eyes. “I’ll be back with you in a minute, Shelby." As she walks past them both, into her castle, she calls over her shoulder, "Play nice, please!"

Shelby watches her until she literally can't anymore, and then turns to Joe. "Hey," she says.

Joe grabs her hands and spins her around, then places his head on her shoulder so that they're both staring at the palace walls. "Hi, Shelby! What are we looking at?"

"Curses, 'n stuff. I'm trying to figure it out without bringing Scott into the whole thing, 'cuz he keeps making these really weird faces at me when he thinks I'm not looking." She squints at the wall. "And I just... I'm pretty sure the problem is that no one knows where the source is. It's not just on the palace, or just on the land, or just on Katherine. I don't- I don't know where to find the source."

"Aw, Shels, that sucks. How are you gonna know the source if you find it?”

Shelby looks over the palace again. “Well, I assume it’s going to be like a skulk catalyst kinda thing, right? With skulk, it feeds off of souls of the dead, and all that-“

“It does?” Joe asks, voice high with fear.

Shelby looks over at him. “Uh, yeah? This is like… the first thing you learn about skulk.”

“When you’re a witch,” Joe reminds.

Shelby considers this. “Huh. I guess. But yeah, it feeds off of soul, then starts spreading.” She can feel the grin on his face from where he’s resting his chin on her shoulder. “If you say another word, I’ll kill you myself. Keep your jokes away from my ears. Anyway, the catalyst has a certain feel to it. It has a bit of magic and a bit of biology that makes it a little different from normal skulk, which lets it grow. I need to find the skulk catalyst equivalent in the kingdom.”

Joe leans back, taking his head off of Shelby’s shoulder. “Hm. So should we be looking over there?” He points to the right, towards the darker side of the kingdom. “Since it’s starting from there and all that.”

Shelby looks over. “Huh. I think you’re right.”

“I always am!” Joe hums.

“In no universe. You’re so lucky you have such a smart friend like me to tell you when you’re wrong.”

Joe looks her up and down, brows raised. The grin on his face lets her know he’s teasing when he says, “Riiiight. After all we’ve been through, I’m sure you’re the smart one.”

“Grades don’t count!”

“I’d sure hope not! I never went to school.”

“You’re breaking down your own case, Joe. I went to witch school.”

Joe squints at her, and then shoves the rim of her hat down over her eyes. “I win!” he decides.

Shelby pulls her hat off and adjusts where Tortoise sits on her hair. “You can’t just bully me and then decide you’ve won the argument.” She places the hat back squarely on her head.

“I just did!”

“Did not.”

“Did too!”

“Did not!”

“Did-“

“Um?” Katherine says, and Shelby schools the grin on her face into something less wild. Joe, as it usually goes, doesn’t even try.

“Hi,” Katherine says. “I got changed and stuff, so we can go explore the kingdom if you want to inspect the curse.” She looks between them. “If I’m not interrupting something.”

“Only the dumbest argument I think we’ve ever had,” Shelby says, waving her off.

“And you’re still friends?” Katherine asks, just to be sure.

“Yes, yes, of course,” Joe says. “It was funny. I’m curious about this magic stuff though, so keep working! I’ll just be here. Observing.” He stands to the side, blinking big innocent eyes at them.

---

Shelby takes the lead as they walk over to the cursed side of the kingdom. It's strange, because even the sky feels a little darker, just by being in this area.

Shelby turns to Katherine. "How does the whole thing work? Like, does it grow sometimes, or does it stay the same, or..?"

"It grows sometimes." Katherine scratches at the back of her neck. "Around my birthday."

She avoids eye contact, as if afraid that Shelby or Joey will berate her for her birthday.

"So it's a yearly curse. 'Cause you said it appeared first when you were born, right?"

"Um. Yes."

"And it's on your arm, right?"

Katherine tugs her long glove off her left arm and holds it out. Black-grey skin that fades back to Katherine's actual skin colour at the shoulder is revealed, and Joe sucks in a breath. "Grows every year, at about the same speed as the curse on the land," Katherine reports.

"Hm," Shelby says. She holds Katherine's hand, looking into her eyes. "Does it... hurt?"

"I can't actually feel it. At all. It's numb."

Shelby's eyes widen. "What?"

"What?" Joe echos.

"My arm is numb, up to where the grey stops. I don't know why."

Shelby considers this. "Do you remember that time, when you wore the other dress and your hair was up and you had..." Shelby points to the base of her neck. "The thing on your spine. That I said was probably connected to the curse?"

Katherine absently touches the back of her neck. "Oh, I do remember that. It's why I changed my usual dress to one with a high collar."

Joey frowns. "That was you? Shelby, come on now."

Shelby elbows him. "Not the time, Joe." Joe ducks his head in apology. "Spines have a lot of your nerves in it. If your curse is effecting your ability to feel things by corrupting your spine and the nerves inside - Katherine! Katherine, this is bad!"

Katherine laughs nervously. "I- uh- I have a bit of time before it gets really bad though, wouldn't you say? We just have to figure out where the problem lies."

Shelby looks around the cursed half of the kingdom. "I... I have to assume that if it's starting over here, then the core of it all is on this side, right? Either in the middle of the cursed area, or at the very edge and working it's way over there-" she points towards the docks, "-without spreading in the opposite direction. But I can't figure out why it would do that."

Katherine bites at her thumbnail. "My parents aren't a big fan of the night. But I- well." She gestures to herself. "I am. Dawn and GlimmerGrove have historically held similar opinions on nighttime, and I just have to wonder the reason."

Shelby tilts her head. "Katherine, you sound like you have a theory."

"I do." Katherine looks up at the sky, brows furrowed with worry. "So. You know how when the moon waxes, it gets darker?"

#[written in stone]#katherine elizabeth #shelby shubble #shubbletv #joey graceffa #empires smp #empires smp 2

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powderblueblood · 1 month

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PARENTHOOD VERSE MY BELOVED .. the sole idea of Lacey having to show up to a parent teacher conference and having to be convinced that no actually cutting class to go smoke is kind of a bad thing and her realizing that she does not know how to talk to a teen anymore (she never did)

“i’m doing this because i love you.”

“and i love you for doing this!”

“no, i need to say it out loud so it’s believable, otherwise i’ll drive my car into the ditch on the way to that godforsaken school.”

“you won’t do that, lace.”

“give me one good reason.”

“three—because you love me, because you want an open casket funeral, and because… you might be a little fond of that kid. i think.”

this whole thing is fucked.

chair’s too small, first of all—they definitely made the chairs smaller since lacy went here which she can only assume is some kind of tactic of psychological warfare. which leads her to think, okay…

“if i may, can you just level with me, cunningham?”

christine cunningham. ninth grade biology and health teacher. decidedly not the mother of lacy’s kind of-ish stepson, but damn well could’ve been. which freaks her out a little bit.

“he’s doing okay, isn’t he?”

chrissy taps her pen against the report card.

“well… he’s doing more than okay, lacy, he’s doing pretty… great, actually, especially for a new transfer—“

crazy how those munson genes can mutate.

“uh huh. and he did the reading for that class?”

“yeah, as far as i—“

“so what’s the problem?” lacy shrugs.

a look of mild incredulity from chrissy, like, do you seriously not get this.

“no, i’m serious,” lacy presses, “what’s the problem.”

“the problem,” chrissy scoffs, “is he cut the period to go sell loosies to freshmen by the athletic track.”

lacy can’t help but caw a little laugh. and the genes are strong! wait til this gets back to the fathership… that entrepreneurial spirit just won’t be beat out of these boys, will it?

“chrissy, c’mon, who among us hasn’t—“

“that doesn’t really matter, lacy. aren’t we all trying to do a better job than our parents did?”

okay, that’s a little on the nose. lacy’s got to concede, because she can’t compete with chrissy’s big ageless moony eyes and earnest nature. makes her want to drop kick a garden gnome. so she straightens her collar, promises to talk to the kid and gives her a little if that’s everything and good to see you, chris then she’s dismissed.

kid’s waiting in the hallway, legs splayed out from his chair. he’s so goddamned tall and wiry that he takes up half the fucking corridor. those munson magic brown irises swivel up to her, but the charm’s killed by the sneer on his face.

“so?”

“you’re over. they’re making us homeschool you.”

“i’d like to see you give that a crack. what’s first, replacement parent theory 101?”

“aren’t you hardboiled! c’mon. let’s go.”

lacy notices his footsteps get a little more anxious, work a little harder to catch up with her little clip as they cross the parking lot. there’s a friendly heaping of his grandfather in him that way.

“so what are you gonna tell dad?” he asks, nervous edge cracking at his voice as he folds his enormously long legs into the passenger seat of this joke of a hotrod she’s still driving. al’s. she’s trying to give it a good home.

lacy takes a long look at him, with his father’s eyes and nose and nerve and a mop of curly hair to seal the deal. he’s fretting a little, the shitstarter attitude he’d come from the west coast with wearing a little thin in their little pocket of east jesus nowhere.

“depends,” she says, “how much you make with those loosies?”

“i don’t know.” he shrugs, he knows. “fifteen bucks or something.”

“fifteen bu—?! what were you charging? a goddamn dollar a dart?!”

“something like that.”

“how did you not get beat up?”

“rich kids don’t know the difference. i just looked for the richest looking kids.”

lacy blinks. starts the car.

“you’re using that and whatever’s left in your wallet to buy dinner,” she sighs, a grin threatening her. “and i’ll tell e—your dad exactly what i was told.”

a nervous beat. she hears him clench his jaw.

“that franklin munson is a goddamned grade a student.”

“ugh. don’t suck up.”

“do i look like i’m trying to impress you, frankie?”

she is, a little.

#powder room talk #slowdancer #FRANKLIN MUNSON dorky ass name #god my parenthood verse my love my life #edlacy #l. doevski by powder #f. munson by powder #published by powder #lulal

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alister312 · 2 years

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What Do We Canonically Know About Gregory?

“I must say, I don’t think I belong with these rogues. I attended school at Yardale and had a 4-0 grade point average.”

Gregory may have only ever appeared as a secondary character in the 1999 film South Park: Bigger, Longer, and Uncut, but years after the film, the SP fandom still loves him. However, with such a disproportionate ratio of screen time to fan appreciation, what is fanon versus what is canon can get confused. Therefore, today I’d like to go through everything we canonically know about Gregory, with some light personal speculation based on the canon.

To start, I’ll state that what I am taking to be canon is everything that happened in the movie, along with South Park Studios wiki page about him (as close to an official wiki as I can get).

In the very first scene Gregory appears in, we learn a few concrete things about him.

Firstly, he can ice skate and it seems he’s relatively talented, as he mentions doing jumps earlier. Second, he introduces himself as “Gregory” and mentions he has just transferred from Yardale where he had a “4-0 grade point average”. His fandom wiki page mentions that Yardale is meant to be a portmanteau of Yale and Harvard, though I haven’t found anything to back this up. If it’s true, though, it speaks highly of his intellect. Whether it’s true or not, it’s clear that intelligence, or perhaps education generally, is important to Gregory, if he tells others his grades before even his last name. This tracks for later in the movie, when he and Wendy smile at one another when Garrison says that there’s “a lot to learn today” before class.

The value that Gregory places on intelligence and education are likely why he seems to only want to interact with Wendy. He tells Stan that he and Wendy spent time “talking of memories past”, which probably involved her frustrations with being one of the few more mature (and therefore “intelligent”) kids in her grade. Gregory quickly loses interest with Stan when he mentions that he’s gone to see the Terrance and Phillip (T&P) movie, saying a simple “Oho!” before leaving to talk with Wendy more. Considering they’re the only ones who didn’t wear T&P shirts to school, he obviously sees Wendy as his only intellectual equal.

Despite this, Gregory readily joins in with the others during “It’s Easy MMMkay”. He does have a line about how he doesn’t think he should be there, yet he sings and dances throughout the song/rehabilitation. He even laughs with the other kids at the end of the whole thing! In fact, I’d say this song is the time when he is the most similar to the other kids. It’s possible that the song and dance components brought that out in him.

This sequence is also the only hint we ever get towards Gregory’s parents, and not even that in depth, but I wanted to mention it anyway. Mr. Mackey tells all the students at the beginning that “[their] mothers insisted they be taken from [their] normal schoolwork and taught not to swear”. Therefore, we can reasonably say that 1) Gregory at least has a mother and 2) she believes in good manners. Based on how poshly Gregory conducts himself, I’d go a step further and say that his mother (and perhaps dad if he has one) places a heavy emphasis on manners, especially if she’s willing to pull him from schoolwork (something he has previously demonstrated to be of great importance to him and likely his parents as well).

Now, let’s get into political Gregory, another key canonical component of his character. The first instance we see of this is when Garrison makes a comment about all the mothers being on their periods, a lame explanation as to why they’ve arrested T&P. Wendy whispers something to Gregory and he feels compelled to share what she told him (“Wendy and I think that was a sexist statement”). It’s unclear why Wendy didn’t say it out loud herself, but my guess is that because Garrison is a sexist, she assumed she’d be dismissed and hoped Gregory would be taken seriously. If this is the case, then Gregory is aware of the privilege he holds and is keen to use it to uplift and bring attention to those oppressed.

Since we’re talking about political Gregory, let’s circle back to the idea that Wendy is Gregory’s only intellectual equal at school (in his eyes at least). For most of the movie, only they (and arguably Christophe) demonstrably understand the political nuance of the Canadian war and what it implies. When the declaration of war is announced, Wendy and Gregory appear to be the only students who are scared rather than confused. Even when Gregory tries to explain why this is wrong, what he says goes over everyone’s head except for Wendy.

However, while they’re mostly on the same page, there’s a few differences in what exactly they seem to take issue with. During Gregory’s recess soapbox speech, he seems to fixate on how this is an issue with America as a country (“The American government thinks it has the right to police the world. Your government is going to kill two Canadian citizens, an action condemned by the UN. Home of the free indeed!”). These lines tell us that Gregory is not American (“your government”). This is further confirmed when he uses kilometers as measurements later in the movie. Additionally, his direct accusation of the country and sarcastic tone at the end indicates that he doesn’t think very highly of the U.S. at all.

Wendy, meanwhile, seems to focus more on freedom of speech and censorship, suggesting that she is not quite as radicalized against America as Gregory is. After she speaks, Gregory starts talking again, although we don’t get to hear what he says because Stan (the current audience perspective) is distracted. However, based on the fact that Wendy asks Stan what he thinks afterward, I think it’s likely that Gregory is explaining why he feels so strongly and why others should too. This could connect back towards his potential want to use his privilege to educate and uplift others.

I believe Gregory is able to accomplish this to an extent! While it’s Kyle (along with Stan and Cartman) who puts out the call for others to meet for La Resistance, when Gregory shows up with Wendy, he says that others are coming. Considering he’s new in town and has no friends besides Wendy, how would he know this? I think that, once he and Wendy learned there was a resistance group, they went and convinced others to join. Only two kids leave when they learn there isn’t any punch or pie, so the rest are actually dedicated to the cause. Considering how uninterested they were before, it makes sense that somehow Gregory was able to get through to them.

Even if this is what Gregory wants, however, it’s obvious that he struggles at being patient with anyone who isn’t as informed as he is. He is impressed by Stan and the others’ willingness to try, he is quickly frustrated at their lack of experience. He has enough manners in him to ask “May I?” when it’s revealed that Stan’s plan is useless, but not enough patience to wait for a yes before he takes over the La Resistance meeting. While this could be seen as rude or snobbish, it’s evident that Gregory has already spent a lot of time researching, likely already planning to do something himself. How else would he so intricately know the layout of the base where T&P are being kept or the exact window of opportunity during the USO show?

Gregory’s song, of course, says a lot about his perspective on the world. For starters, despite his pessimism about America, Gregory does seem to believe in freedom. He is not just fighting to dismantle– he is fighting to improve. Also, religion seems to be a rather heavy influence for him. Not only does he invoke God when talking about fighting for freedom, but he claims they are all “blessèd” and ultimately “only the righteous” will stand. Often, the connotation behind righteousness is a religious one, or a moral one which can stem from religious teachings.

Another tenet of Gregory’s belief seems to be the idea that sacrifice is admirable, necessary, and inevitable when fighting for freedom. He describes various potential and graphic scenarios where they die for the cause, but these are meant to be inspiring rather than scary. Additionally, he implies that these are not hypotheticals (“when you all get shot”, “when they torture you”, “that’s the way it goes / in war you’re shat upon”). Gregory definitely takes revolutionary work very seriously, but he also seems to romanticize the idea of being a martyr. While that paints him in a slightly naive light, he is at least willing to be hands on and isn’t scared to be a part of the body count (switching from “for though you die” to “for though we die”).

The way Gregory acts throughout the whole of the La Resistance meeting and later in the film (when he realizes Stan and the others failed) really shows that Gregory has a lot of self confidence, which can manifest as arrogance. It’s not as if his confidence is unearned– he is clearly very competent and experienced when it comes to revolutionary work. However, Gregory does automatically assume others can’t handle dangerous or complicated tasks (and is unsurprised when proven right). I don’t think he realizes that he is coming off as pretentious, considering how unfazed he is whenever people get annoyed with him.

In fact, the only time Gregory seems truly offended is when Wendy vocally renounces him, saying “Fuck Gregory, fuck him right in the ear!” This isn’t the first time she’s looked at him angrily or the first time he’s been “insulted” right to his face (earlier when Cartman called him a “fucking faggot”), but this is the first time it upsets him. Why? I think it’s a combination of two things. First, he doesn’t seem that great at picking up on subtleties. He couldn’t tell when Wendy was annoyed with him, or when Stan was, and he’s not great at being subtle himself. Second, either Gregory doesn’t consider faggot to be an insult or Wendy’s opinion is one he actually values, especially when compared to Cartman. Both of these are possible, though the latter is more likely.

Is it possible for Gregory to overcome his arrogance and dismissive mindset when it comes to others? It seems so! The way he praises Stan for volunteering and seems impressed when he finally understands the heart of the issue (i.e. freedom of speech) suggests that Gregory grows to like people as long as they are trying. He even entrusts the very symbolically important role of La Resistance banner holder to Butters, despite the fact that Butters trips when he holds it. This could even connect back to why Gregory is so into Mr. Mackey’s rehabilitation– he appreciates when others put in the effort to better themselves and the world around them. This is likely why he praises Christophe (calling him an expert), as Christophe is shown to be a very dedicated and determined individual, even if he’s misotheistic (contrasting Gregory’s positive tone towards God) and prone to toilet humor (the “buttfor” joke).

So now that we know all there is to canonically know about Gregory, what are the core components of his character? He places a lot of his own worth in his intelligence/education and expects others to as well. I’d argue that his high expectations of hyper competence tie into this as well. All of that contributes to his slight arrogance and inability to truly connect with others who aren’t on the same level as him, with Wendy and Christophe (and perhaps Stan by the end) seeming to be the only ones who have his respect. Despite this, Gregory uses his privileged standing to advocate for others and speaks out against (and actively fights) injustice. He has very strong (perhaps Christian-inspired) morals and isn’t afraid to sacrifice himself for what he believes in.

#south park #sp #gregory of yardale #sp gregory #south park meta #sometimes you just gotta spend 2k+ words dissecting literally every bit of canonical info about an extremely minor character ya know #and for anyone about to 'um actually' about me neglecting to mention his connection to enjolras #the only concrete evidence i can find about that is on his fandom wiki and there is no source to back it up #like ya it's universally understood by most of his fans but unless u can point to m&t saying that's his inspo i won't include it #christophe's part coming whenever i get around to it... idk when that is but rest assured i will not neglect my favorite boy

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ilguna · 2 years

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☼ my eyes only (Draco Malfoy) ☼

summary; ' Hi could you use these prompts for a draco malfoy x reader, I like all of these so whatever one u want you can chose of u can use then together. "I don't care your mine he doesn't get to look at you like that." "stop being a brat and listen to me " " where do you think your going dressed like that". Basically I really would like to see a possessive and protective draco:))) I love your work BTW!! ‘

warnings; swearing

wc; 1.5k

NOTES; READER IS RAVENCLAW.

–

When Professor Flickwick told you that you were going to start tutoring other students, you originally thought it was a joke. You’d never heard of tutoring at Hogwarts before he mentioned it. It took a few minutes of him explaining how it would work for it to finally dawn on you.

He wasn’t kidding.

Honestly, it took all of you not to laugh at the idea. Of course, they would depend on a Ravenclaw to do this type of work. God forbid they even touched any other student in a different house. You had half the mind to ask Flitwick if Hermione Granger was also being subjected to this torture, but you weren’t ready for that arguement. Not yet, anyway.

It wasn’t until he actually assigned you a Gryffindor student, Ron Weasley, did you try to put your foot down. It isn’t that you don’t like Ron, because you’ve had plenty of friendly conversations. Hell, you’ve hung out with his group once or twice when they’ve invited you. It’s the fact that your boyfriend, Draco, wouldn’t take this news well.

You’d never hear the end of it, and knowing him, he’d assume that you chose Ron. And then he’d ask why Hermione couldn’t do it, if they’re all such good friends. Probably complain to everyone he can to just get the word out, that his girlfriend is insufferable and trying to torture him on purpose.

Besides, the things he’d do to poor Ron Weasley, as if you could scare someone into having good grades again. The bullying would slowly start to get worse again, as much as you try to smother Draco with enough activities to make him forget about his atrocious manners.

You got every one of these points on the nose.

The only part you didn’t consider is the fact that since the assigned studying area is the library, a very public place, Draco would be able to follow you. At first, you really thought he wasn’t serious. Draco doesn’t study, he pays attention during class, his marks are nearly perfect.

This doesn’t stop him.

“(Y/n).”

You toss your hair over your shoulder, trying to ignore Draco, who’s elbow to elbow with you. Each step you take forces you to bump into him, throwing you further off course. He’s doing it on purpose, trying to steer you from the library. If you move away, he’ll just follow. He doesn’t care that this is mandatory and not by choice.

“(Y/n).” Draco repeats, trying to grab your arm, “How long is this supposed to go on for?”

“Until he’s caught up.” You tell him without looking over, “Or his test scores improve.”

“That isn’t fair.” Draco whines, “How am I supposed to bring you to The Three Broomsticks?”

“It’s only an hour, Draco. We can go afterward.” You sigh, “Honestly, you can go without me, I’ll join later.”

He scoffs, not taking a second to entertain the idea. You fix your bookbag on your shoulder, crossing your arms. He falls behind for a second, still following. You think he’s distracted by another student, finding his next unlucky victim.

The silence is what tips you off that he’s not beside you anymore. You stop, eyebrows drawing in while you turn around. Draco’s face is turning a gentle shade of red, jaw clenched. This ought to be good.

“Where do you think you’re going, dressed like that?”

Your face twists, “Dressed like what?”

“That skirt.”

You let out a laugh, shaking your head. Unbelievable, “Draco, I wear this skirt all the time.”

“Do you?” He asks.

You’re not going back to the Ravenclaw tower, like hell you’ll be late. Professor Flitwick didn’t mention anything about losing points if you’re late, but you’re not really willing to take the risk. And you don’t want to walk all the way back, either.

So, stubbornly, you don’t break eye contact with him as you yank the skirt down further. It’s supposed to be high-waisted, it was manufactured to be at your waist. Still, it’ll work just fine if it’s settled at your hips instead. Instead of it being a little above your knee, it’s now well below.

“Is this better?” You ask, tilting your head.

You think you see his eye twitch, yet he doesn’t argue. It’s not often you beat Draco at his own game, but when it happens, it’s so goddamn satisfying. Draco comes to meet you, holding out his elbow for you to take. You bite back the laughter, taking his arm.

The two of you still manage to make it to the library on time, being forced to split. You’re sure to make a big show about kissing him, and then you cross the room to pick a table that’s still open. While you’re laying out your books and the notes you took in charms yesterday, Ron comes into the library.

“Hey,” He breathes, taking a chair, “Sorry I’m late, Harry and I were on the other side of the castle.”

“Doing what?” You ask, knowing it’s nothing good. These two have been nothing but trouble since the day you all became students.

“Well, I had this brilliant idea of introducing Neville to Mertle.” He starts, you can already see where this is going, “I didn’t think that he’d get stuck in one of the stalls.”

“You’re awful, you know that?”

Ron sits up, “That’s not even the best part!”

The next hour is pretty average for how your time with Ron goes, the two of you go back and forth between telling stories about what’s happened throughout the week. Then you’ll study with him for the rest of the time, compare notes and tell him what he needs to improve on. Really, since this has started, he’s gotten better at note-taking, and it’s been showing on his marks, too.

And occasionally you’ll glance at Draco to check to see if he’s still there, or even studying. Most of the time, his nose is stuffed into a book that he’s genuinely interested in. It’s only when you laugh particularly loud, does he pay attention to what you and Ron are doing.

They’re stupid jokes, or stories about him, Harry and Hermione. It’s a wonder how she hasn’t left them just yet, considering the amount of bullshit they manage to pull. When you try to tell Ron that he’s as bad as his brothers in regards to pranks, he denies it instantly, telling you that it’s their specialty and not his.

“Well, I wouldn’t say that’s entirely true.” You sit back against the chair, arms crossed. The studying session is over, you’ve already packed your bag to go, “You all live together, they’ve rubbed off on you.”

“I’m the target of their pranks.” He says, not buying it.

“If you say so.”

Someone clears their throat right next to you, Ron’s face falls. You look over to see that it’s Draco, waiting for you to get up.

“We’ve got plans.” He reminds you.

“Right.” You smile, touching his arm. When you look at Ron, his face is screwed, “I’ll see you next week.”

“Or not, if you can finally pass an exam.” Draco spits.

“Draco.” You warn, getting to your feet, “I hope you have fun with Hermione and Harry.”

“Thanks.” Ron smiles slightly.

You wrap your arm around Draco’s, letting him lead you out of the library. You try to smile your way past people, but as soon as you’re alone again, he begins to run his mouth. The irritation is beginning to crack your mask.

“I can’t believe he was flirting with you the entire time.”

“It wasn’t flirting, Draco. Ron and I get along, it’s not my fault you made an enemy out of them.”

“You can’t see it,” He insists, “The way he looks at you. I wiped that smug look off his face.”

“He was happy to see me. You know, because we’re friends.” You press your lips together.

“I don’t care, you’re mine. He doesn’t get to look at you like that.”

You stop walking, forcing Draco to stop too. He stares at you for a second, opening his mouth to ask you what you’re doing. You’ve already cupped his face, watching his eyes.

“Stop being a brat and listen to me.” You start, “I have no interest in Ron, I will never be interested in him. I’m here with you, and I don’t plan on leaving, either. I’m allowed to be friends with people outside of our circle, though. You have to understand that.”

Draco squints, “Did you call me a brat?”

You laugh, pressing your lips to his. When you pull away, he’s got a sour look on his face, “If you’re not careful, that’ll be your permanent nickname from now on.”

He rolls his eyes, “You wouldn’t.” You wrap your arm around his again, not confirming what he said. You only make it halfway down the hallway before it’s eaten at him, “(Y/n), you’re not being serious.”

“I am.”

#ilguna #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy oneshot #draco malfoy fanfic #hp #harry potter #requested

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dragonmuse · 2 years

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@idfk42 Glorious! But now I want this story… the AU of the AU’s AU! How deep does the rabbit hole go?! (I don’t care, I’m here to the deepest point.)

@robinade I’m with idfk42, I love every iteration of this au, including the AUs of the AU (with an AU tangent 😆)

I think we all know what I've gone and done. It's time for another AU of the Au of the Au in bulleted list form. The rabbit hole continues every onward, I devour my own tail.

-The fearsome foursome stay friends naturally. Their ages are adjusted for this au so they’re all the same age.

-Stede will not let Izzy get away with not applying for college. Izzy threatens, bluffs and eventually just writes the essay and fills everything out and lets Stede do what he wants with it. Faith and Mary work on theirs together. Izzy gets into a decent state school with a scholarship thanks to some very liberal editing to his essay by Stede and his actually not awful grades. Faith and Mary get into a prestigious school close by.

-”Where are you applying, Bonnet?” “Oh, you know, just a few schools with good business programs.” “You fucking hate business.” “Yes, but my father-” “Yeah, no, where do you actually want to fucking go?” Izzy, Mary and Faith bully Stede into applying to a fashion program under the guise of a ‘business for fashion’ degree which his father hates, but Stede has financial breakdowns of the industry that Izzy produced and convinces him it’s a smart move or at least is annoying enough that his dad agrees to make him stop.

-Look. Faith still dies. There’s no easy way to say it. Izzy has to call Mary and tell her and then won’t come to the phone at all. He assumes they’ll leave him alone now since Faith was the glue between them.

-Instead, Mary and Stede show up with very nice luggage, pack all his shit and move him in quietly to Stede’s family’s second home until it’s time for school to start and they both lie more than they’ve ever lied in their lives so they can spend those three weeks together. Mary and Stede cry the tears that Izzy can't. They stumble through grief. They try to keep busy by kitting Izzy out for college, so despite being entirely broke, he shows up to his dorm with everything a rich kid could imagine you would need.

-Their friendship becomes an iron bond. They hold her memory between them. Izzy, as he is practically designed to do, quietly swears his loyalty to these two fools for the rest of his life.

-Stede’s college experience is very...eye opening. And yet when his father demands that he marry That Girl or So Help You in the middle of his sophmore year, Stede goes to Izzy to help pick out the ring.

-”No.” “What do you mean no?” “No you’re not marrying her.” “Why not?” “Because I’m not sitting here watching you two be fucking miserable for the next million years. First off, it’s boring. Second, it’s pathetic. And third, it’s nauseating. I will puke on you, Bonnet.” “There’s no need. I don't actually want...I mean, I do love her.” “Yeah, so do I and you don’t see me proposing.” “That’s different.” “It’s not.”

-Stede calls Mary instead and they talk about their options. They decide to fake a long engagement and that will get them out with their degrees at least. Izzy, relieved, continues on with his very monastic life. He doesn’t have time to go find trouble because between making sure Stede passes all his math classes, spending hours in Mary’s studio space at her school learning a little second hand, doing his own schoolwork and stocking grocery shelves for spending money, who has the fucking time?

-”I think I might be interested in men,” “Yeah, no shit, Bonnet.” “See this is why I picked you to come out to first. No drama. Just insults.” “Who insulted you?” “I know how you feel about gay people.” “Trust me, you really truly fucking don’t. You want to go get a boyfriend, go get a fucking boyfriend.” Maybe I just want to...um. Get laid.” “Say it with a straight face and I’ll believe you.” “I think the point is that I don’t have a straight face.” “Fuck off and go tell Mary, she’ll probably be supportive or something.”

- They all graduate and Stede tells his father that he will not be getting married. His father can sort of stomach that, but then Stede says he wants to start a fashion line. As the designer. And that’s a bridge too far. He disowns him. Mary’s parents are slightly more forgiving, but they do decide she could use a year of ‘making it on her own and see how she likes it’.

-There’s an apartment that Izzy gets them and there is a very frustrating couple of months as Mary and Stede figure out life without a lot of money. Izzy sits down and teaches them both to budget so there’s enough to pay the rent. They both say thank you a lot and try their best . Izzy still sort of wants to murder them both all the time. He gets an accounting job and realizes that as difficult as the two of them can be, he can tolerate them far more than any of the stiffs in suits. They are actually, and don’t tell fucking Bonnet he even thought this, pretty good people.

-Mary charms and family connections her way into a job as admin assistant at a gallery. Stede accidentally gets a nannying gig.

-In an incident that probably was inevitable, Stede and Izzy get two drinks in on a night Mary isn’t home and goad each other into a messy makeout. This being an area Stede actually has a head start on, he gives a persuasive argument into why they shouldn’t stop and Izzy caves. They start having sex with each other when they both feel like it. They do not have feelings for each other. They still snipe at each other constantly.

-Stede designs his heart out. He hustles a lot and finally gets a job at a big fashion house not yet designing, but at least in the realm. Mary shows her work in a small alumni show and sells her first painting. Izzy gets a raise and a concerned suggestion he use his vacation time once and a while.

-Mary, who never does learn whatever lesson her parents were trying to teach her, is welcomed back into the fold anyway. When she meets a very decent man that she likes very much, she finally moves out and now in their late twenties, Stede and Izzy are left with each other.

-This is fine. They both date periodically. But they are both not very good at it. Izzy gets sick of Stede moping about not making more progress in his career and sits him down again and makes him make a five year plan. Does Izzy have one? What does he need one for? He doesn’t have dreams. Dreams are for dreamers.

-Stede makes clothes and makes clothes, filling their apartment with fabric and constantly asks Izzy for his opinions until Izzy starts having them. One very painful day when Izzy’s head is in his grief (like he’s going to stop grieving her. Someone has to do it), Stede presents him with an outfit. It’s not flashy or feminine, but it’s well made and flattering and the shirt is his favorite shade of blue.

-Look. Izzy gets feelings. It’s a thing that happens to him. But not for Stede fucking Bonnet, okay? He tells Mary that when they are both very drunk and she doesn’t laugh in his face because she’s a very good friend.

-”Bonnet.” “Hands. Are we being formal over toast again?” “Listen.” “All ears.” “I think we might be...in a relationship.” “No. Surely not?” “You’re wearing my shirt in an apartment we’ve shared for five years and you haven't used your own bed for two of those.” “Is this your shirt?” “Yes- that’s not the point.” “It’s a little the point, I like this shirt.” “Fuck me.” “On the breakfast table?” “We only have one table, you fucking- stop it.” “Stop what?” “BONNET”

-They do eventually agree that they have an informal, sort-of relationship. Nothing anyone is taking seriously.They will continue to date other people.

-Stede shows at smaller indy shows. Then slightly bigger indy shows. Then he and Izzy write out a business plan and with all the optimistic energy only Stede can summon, he starts to look for investors. And gets them. His brand launches out of their apartment. The entire business is Stede, one part-time fashion student and Izzy. Izzy does not sew, but by now he’s experienced in a few aspects of business thanks to be very useful to his bosses. He can do the paperwork.

-Thus supported, and with a gorgeous art piece by Mary for a logo, his work goes into two or three boutiques. Then four. Then ten. Then fifteen. Then a small bougie chain picks them up. And they can’t run it out of the apartment anymore. Izzy is doing Stede’s business more than his own job. Stede opens an actual office with a workshop space.

-”I want you to work with me.” “Fuck off. I’m not your assistant, Bonnet.” “I said with not, for, you asshole. Be my business partner.” “Not qualified for that shit.” “Yes, yes you are. We’ll have to sign a contract and other things, but you do half the work. You should make half the profits.”

-Izzy hates a lot about the fashion world, but Stede does most of the bits he doesn't like. Izzy stays behind the scenes and tries to keep Stede from accidentally bankrupting them. He’s got a generous heart and very ridiculous ideas. Izzy's heart is a stone and his ruthless practicality grows the business almost as much as Stede's designs.

-They keep living together. Why not? At least it’s someone who knows how you like your coffee or tea in the morning. And the sex is pretty good.

-They go out to a local gay bar one night. They’re in their late-thirties. Mary is pregnant and most of the other people they know seem to be settling down.

-There’s a person at the bar with long curly hair and the right kind of smile.

-”I will not arm wrestle you over this, you utter pig.” “Saw ‘em first then.” “That is not how we handle things.” “Please fucking tell me how we handle anything. I’d love to know if there were fucking rules to this chaos.”

“Gentleman,” Eddy interrupts. “Both of you can buy me a drink. I’m thirsty as hell.”

-The thing is that Stede takes Eddy home and Izzy is fine with it. Stede’s dated before. Dated people Izzy thought were attractive before. But this is different. There’s less room suddenly. The apartment that they’ve shared for fifteen years becomes smaller somehow. Izzy is always walking in on something or tripping over someone’s feet. Witnessing people fall in love in front of him in real time with no escape.

-He moves out. He has the money. He still sees Stede every damn day and they still eat lunch together, supposedly to talk business, but they talk about almost everything but. Mary has her baby and Izzy is informed he’s an uncle if he likes it or not. So he’s got a baby that he visits and a best friend and his business partner that he’s no longer fucking. He’s got a good life, okay?

-He’s not sad. He’s not resentful. Maybe. Sometimes. He’s a little itty bitty bit jealous. Because Eddy is gorgeous and mean and funny. And Stede is more everything with them then he ever was with Izzy. It's like he's become the person he's always wanted to be.

-Izzy has Alma with him one day. Babysitting, because what else is he doing on a weekend? Might as well. She’s strapped to his chest, facing out and obviously being very charming as women keep smiling at him like he’s performing some kind of miracle instead of grocery shopping. There’s a guy by the melons. Young, cute. With another guy. They’re clearly together and having a very adorable time about cantaloupes or some shit.

-”Hey,” the cute one said as he went by. “You or that baby know how tell when one of these is ripe?” Izzy picked up a melon and tapped, handing it to him with a nod, “Tap this and listen, you want it to make this kind of sound, that’ll tell you. Baby knows fuck all except out to pull out hair.” “She’s cute for a hair puller.” The other man laughed, “you would know, Luc.” “Shut up, sweetie.”

-Izzy leaves, but it’s his local grocery store and he runs into the couple or just the cute guy on his own a few more times. The cute guy is...flirting. Definitely. And he does it in front of the other guy.

-”Mysterious,” Eddy laughed at him as he tried to get Stede’s opinion on the problem. “You’re a fucking silver fox, Iz. Guy just wants a piece and clearly his partner doesn’t give a damn.”

-Izzy is not a silver fox. He’s got less silver than Eddy. But. He’s had a dry period, ok? Fucking Stede reliably had made him a little lazy about finding new people or something.

-He tentatively flirts back next time and the cute guy (“I’m Lucius, by the way, watch the teeth around my neck, I’ve got a day job.”) responds hard.

-Mary, Stede and Eddy demand details. Demand to meet him, but Izzy holds back for weeks. Months. It’s the first thing he’s had to himself in years and he feels protective of it. But one can’t hold out forever. Of course they all like him, Lucius fits into their little horror show of a group as if he was born to be there.

-And the thing is that Lucius teaches Izzy a lot about how relationships can work and that you only get the things that you ask for.

-So he gets Stede alone one night, and he, very painfully and only after a few shots of bravery, just asks. And Stede kisses him the way only Stede knows how to do. It’s a teenage kiss in it’s own way, messy and rich with memory.

-It’s a long negotiation. A complicated dance, but Izzy’s good at keeping plans and keeping track. He wears her ring around his neck, Lucius’ cuff around his wrist, Stede’s fashion wherever the man is moved to put it and Eddy’s mark on his neck (“Not the fucking face, I’m a business man, for fuck’s sake.” “Yeah, no one here cares.” “I care”) and he’s about as marked as a man can be.

-and sometimes, when he's finally alone as he still is sometimes, he takes out a sketchpad and he draws a few things. cartoons of a group of kids, falling into each other and the right time.

#leda house and the kraken verse #au of the au #ficlet #if you don't have a breakfast club store bought is fine

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mothbug · 2 years

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ranking of love live (only µ’s and aqours bc i dont know enough about nijigasaki or liella to really make any judgements) relationships based on my opinions alone. i should be studying for my finals. nobody needs to read this i just need to make my stances clear

the best:

yohamaru. other people had their gay awakenings to nozoeli but nooo i was an aqours fan i had to latch onto these weirdos when i was in 8th grade. anyway they have it ALL and it astonishes me that they’re not more popular. the childhood friends reunited. the jokey banter. the fact that hanamaru is DEFINITELY also a little weird but people don’t notice. the fact that their voices sound so good together and we deserve a duo song...is it really possible for a choir girl and a twitch streamer to be in a relationship... i truly believe that even if hanamaru teases yoshiko sometimes she truly believes that she’s the coolest person EVER. hanamaru sees that her old best friend is going through a warriors phase and demanding to be called ‘ravenstar’ and just goes god she’s still so awesome. they watch horror movies together and yoshiko cowers behind hanamaru the whole time while hanamaru considers the artistic merit of the plot. i think they are nonbinary lesbianisms together.

nozoeli. they’re so married. garasu no hanazono has been my top song on spotify wrapped for two years in a row. despite arguably being the most canon relationship they can fit so much yearning in there. i don’t even know what to say about them they’re so good. they really do have gay aunts energy.

rinpana. they’re t4t and the most autistic girls around and they’ve been in love with each other for so long they feel like it’s sort of an unspoken thing. like of course we love each other silly. everyone else tells rin ‘CUT YOUR MULLET NOW’ but hanayo just goes ..’wow... a mane. you’re like a cute little lion’ and rin keeps the mullet forever. who can say if this is good or bad.

chikayouriko. people always fight over these guys because they don’t realize none of them should be left out. you can’t have chikariko without you you can’t have chikayou without riko and you can’t even have youriko without chika. they’re sillay. we’re getting into the trios category now btw

kanamaridia. similar to chikayouriko in that people constantly leave dia out even though she’s so important to the dynamic.. i think they all got ‘married’ as kids and none of them have really let it go and they really can’t imagine the real deal happening in any other way. it’s always been the three of them.

honokotoumi. very similar in backstory to kanamaridia but they’re a lot stupider about it. i think kotoumi are a lot more obvious but honoka is the glue that holds them together. they all complement each other very well.

the ‘okay i can see it’:

youruby: i think this could be cute. they have personalities that mesh well together and i think they’d have a lot of fun just hanging out.

rubyleah. it’s fun! i feel like they have a lot of parallels and differences that work out in a nice way, but also i feel like leah didn’t have enough screen time to get me invested in this. i also hc ruby as arospec so i think it’d take more time than they got for her to develop feelings for anyone.

rikomaki. red hair pianists. it’s cute. this is the only cross-group relationship i’ll even consider just because it’s fun.

the ‘only platonically. sorry’:

yohariko. i actually really dislike this romantically for some reason, but by GOD their friendship is SO fucking fun. the two people you wouldn’t ever really think could be besties just end up clicking. i mean EVERYONE in aqours is friends but they usually stay within their ‘years’ yknow? it’s nice to see. i think they’re supportive forces in each other’s lives and help each other stay grounded and live a little respectively. people probably assume they’re dating bc of how close they become, but they aren’t. if anyone asks riko probably just starts laughing, which yoshiko acts very offended about.

rubymaru. this is?? kind of pushed as much as yohamaru is but i just don’t see it as anything but platonic. i think it’s also kinda boring and does a disservice to both of their characters. i like them as friends a lot but i feel like they’re more interesting when there’s other characters to interact with. i like maru being the kind of friend that encourages ruby to be more confident. emotional support hanamaru that helps her just. order a drink. ruby calls hanamaru at like 12 at night to ask for ideas for costumes and hanamaru always picks up.

nicomaki. I KNOWWWW they push it so hard in everything they put them in but the age gap bothers me. i think a lot of people look past it because maki is very mature and collected and nico is. nico. and the dynamic could be cute. but. idk a lot of people gloss over the fact that maki is 15 and nico is 17. they’re still really good as friends.

every other relationship i haven’t mentioned. they’re all best friends to me.

very funny one sided:

ruby having a one-sided crush on kanan would be SO funny. the ‘older sister’s cool boyfriend’ effect. ruby admires her strength and carefree attitude a lot, but i think she gets over it pretty quickly and comes to see her as a friend that she just looks up to.

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gaytorgirl · 2 years

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sunako in stem 😍

3% in math 😍😍 the s in sunako stands for stem

i know it’s canon that sunako is smarter but the way kyohei hustled in math to compete with her during finals i die i die i die i die i die i don’t think we ever saw his score but anyways takenaga was already doing really good in math which is HDJSJXIAKAK

i think ranmaru and yuki are canon average academically but during the scenes of the final they were both shown bored/ doing nothing so i assume maybe a little below average (?? also it’s either that or nervous it’s one of the two). i also remember one of them in an episode saying that an equation looked insanely hard but really all it was was substitution and that’s like one of the first math concepts taught so… idk i kinda speculate over their grades and intelligence but then again they’re just anime characters 🐌 but also on that subject idk how old they’re supposed to be so maybe it’s just cus i’m much older than them so find their math easier ?? l

… so i figured it out in episode 14 ranmaru says he’s 15 so i assume everyone else is supposed to be 15 as well. i didn’t know that so just to throw that out there. i still don’t know what that means for them specifically it’s not like i know their curriculum 😭 i’ll keep looking

so.. this kinda leverages kyohei in my love list cus he worked so hard to be better at math which makes my heart HDSKJDJSKANS but then again takenaga was already doing so good so idkkkk all i know is kyohei’s perseverance made me melt

and sunako who is already good at everything except bubbling in the correct answers makes me 😍

if u noticed more details while watching pls let me know so we can discuss 😎

the wallflower (anime)/ perfect girl evolution/ yamato nadeshiko shichi henge

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

#perfect girl evolution #sunako nakahara #the wallflower anime #yamato nadeshiko shichi henge #sunako nakahara gifs #gifs #the wallflower anime gifs #anime #speculation #thoughts #discussion #the wallflower anime discussion

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megatraven · 2 years

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MEGG!! Just rewatching my Alex extras that I got to record and I watched the first part of, “Cause for Celebration,” and I’m barely a minute in the video (bc I put it on the slowest speed bc I tapped rlly fast during this recording lol) and I get to this part:

They sit right next to each other….and Alex is kinda shy to hold her hand bc they’re not used to it (I’m assuming this is early in their relationship. Maybe?) and MC grabs theirs with no thought and it’s just so sweet😭.

And then how they remember her birthday and feel the need to remind her, or at least ask what she wants. They don’t assume and take a guess, they actually ask so they can make it the best day for her and it’s so sweet😭. Ik it’s a common thing to do it in a relationship, but I like to imagine that Alex did that every year even if they weren’t dating. They always reminded her that her birthday was coming up and always asked what she wanted. OR they would kinda get hints from May and would buy her something similar to what she’s been talking about.

I just love Alex so much and I needed to talk about them again.

ALSO!!! FINALLY!! SCHOOL IS OVER!! I’m so excited. I think you asked about my summer plans in my last ask? Not sure, but I actually don’t have any plans lol. I can’t go away and I’ll have to see if my friends are busy on certain days. Plus, I really need to apply to get a new job bc ya know. Money. But I’ll be fine and I’m happy to finally be able to sleep in and play games if I want to! It’s such a relief and I don’t have to worry about grades anymore. I can just rewatch all my lovestruck stuff in peace.

I LOVE THEMMMMMMMM I MISS THEM SO MUCH....

I do think it's the first birthday (between either of them) they're celebrating as a couple! Alex is still a little shy about being public with their relationship probably as habit from having to resist things like holding her hand prior to dating and it's so sweet..... tho i also think some of that shyness comes from knowing they have to be careful about public displays of affection at work, so they're still at that point of trying to strike a balance and figuring out what's okay and what's not.

MC, of course, doesn't have the exact same hold-ups and she's more ready to make up for lost time in the casual affections department vuv

gosh i just love them both so much.... they're really my favorite characters ever im 💛💛💛💛💛💛

YAY FOR SCHOOL BEING OVER!!! <3 i hope you have a good summer and land a nice job that pays well!! :) i also hope you get to have some fun, be it with your friends or playin games!

#alex cyprin #alex x mc #alex #afk mc #astoria: fate's kiss #astoria #lovestruck voltage #lovestruck

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strange-and-dynamic · 1 year

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Dateline: December 29th 2022

This dream started with me and 3 old friends from 7th grade talking with eachother in I think the staircase of a subway about where we’re gonna camp out under the context that we’re on the run from the law, as to what we’re being chased for I don’t know

Eventually at some point of us talking we hear police sirens, and then we all split up to run in different directions, where we reach this big white cube apartment building in a neighborhood full of others like it, and we start running apart again, me and 1 of the friends were around the big white cube complex, I was trying to look for a way in even though I saw people clearly lived inside it (it was night time and there were a few lights on) and the other friend was just kinda, chilling??? (Oh so the police aren’t gonna chase him but they’ll chase me 🤦‍♀️ smhhh) Even tho the police were right there??? And as I was trying to look for a way in the building, ‘running’ (you can never run in dreams—) around it, there was this cop car with its siren lights on and the police siren from it playing way too softly to be a true alert, like it was so quiet it’s like it was playing from a phone speaker— And the cop car wasn’t even speeding or anything, it was just, driving really slowly, in this menacing manner, like it was stalking me,,,

Eventually I find a way in through this unseen flight of stars on the side of the building, I run up the stairs and then cut to morning I wake up in an empty 1 room apartment with no window panes and no doors, just the front door (WITH NO LOCK BY THE WAY,,) and wide open window holes where the glass should be, the whole thing resembled Minecraft honestly— the threat of the police is gone as it’s morning and there’s no way they’d do a stake out on a singular building overnight, and I leave my apartment, with the thought of finding something to eat for breakfast, and instead of, idk, heading to a store, I go to other people’s apartments, in which in all of the apartments I get ignored, like they were just ok with me coming in like it was a work room or something— none of the doors were locked, they just opened like bedroom doors, the doors didn’t have peepholes either and they were all the same brown wooden door with golden door knob combo

This is where the dream starts getting REALLY weird: I go up another flight of stairs on the big white cube complex (that’s what I’m calling it now ig) to find out there’s a whole convenience store on the roof??? With no ceiling either it’s just there out in the open, all the shelves and fridges just there in the open like it never rains— I get happy at the sight and start looking for whatever’s cheap that I could buy for a good breakfast, I get a head of lettuce and a bag of raw chicken wings, with the idea I’ll cook up and the shred the chicken and stuff them in lettuce leaves, lettuce pockets! I go up to what I’m assuming was self checkout and I put my 2 ingredients on the counter (the chicken was really gonna be unseasoned like that??? 🤨🤨🤨) and pay with,,, a singular quarter,,, with the context that it was one dollar— and the guy takes the coin and says something along the lines of “you need to learn how to count change, that won’t get you by out here mami” (he had a Spanish accent for some reason) and gave me back 6 coins??? For buying the food?? and I take my ingredients in a little plastic convenience bag, and as I’m looking for my apartment I stumble across a doorless apartment where the light doesn’t reach the same as the others, and in the apartments, on a bed, I see my mom and my brother, sitting together looking down at something resembling a smartphone, I get scared and back away from the doorway’s view, while still sneaking peaks at them, as if to see what they’re doing

After THAT I, for some reason, run to a remote island (with my ingredients still in hand) across a skinny bridge made of sand, kinda like a sandbar, as to why I ran there, I don’t know, but I think my context was I was just looking around my surroundings, the island had like 2 palm trees what looked like some mini volcano the size of a hill, and nothing else. When I made it there and looked around for a bit I turn behind me and see part 2 Joseph Joestar swimming towards me in the ocean really really fast— once he makes it to my island he jumps out of the water in cartoony way and lands right next to me, for some reason once he lands next to me he’s suddenly part 3 Joseph Joestar, and he puts his hands on my shoulders and is kinda rejoicing saying something along the lines of “There you are! We all really missed you back at home! Your family really misses you!” (Am I??? Not on the run from the police anymore???) And then we turn around to the mini volcano only for it to now kind of awaken and become a huge volcanic magma monster, and then I woke up!

Some weird tidbits about the dream:

• for the entire dream all the way from the ‘circling the big white cube complex’ part, I had on house clothes and was barefoot, but the concrete felt like, smooth waxed wooden floors?? And my friends were all in their school uniforms

• I realize any dream that contains my old friends they all have on their school uniforms, I guess cuz that’s all I ever saw them in 🤔

• The complex looked like just a big white cube with windows on the outside and a glass double door on the front when I was outside at night, but when I was inside it and started walking around it in the morning, suddenly there was these balconies to act as hallways (think of japanese apartment buildings, not having hallways and instead just walkways on the sides) and a whole open roof area with 2 stores, and when I went back outside to the island it looked the same as it did at night! Just a big white cube with windows on the outside! Minecraft recreation of it on the outside vs inside because I can NOT draw buildings (obviously ignore the mobs and grass n stuff because the main purpose of the image is just to replicate what the buildings look like):

• It was only around my 3rd time circling the outside of the building did I find the staircase on the side of it, like it was trying to trick me into running away or something, bitch let me in I’m not gonna keep running I’ve had too many running dreams 💀💀💀

• None of the cop cars had cops inside them that I could see, all the windows were tinted pitch black, none of hem came out either, just cop cops, just standing there, 😱 menacingly 😱

• The best way I can describe the cop car playing it’s siren way too quietly is like it was a whisper close into my ear, with the same feel as a threatening voice but it didn’t hurt my ears like a police siren would, it was just, menacing—

• My friends were there at night but in the morning they were nowhere to be found, in the dream I briefly thought of it but then started focusing on myself (damn I didn’t think to get food for them??? Selfish—)

• There were other cop cars but they weren’t chasing me, they were kinda just sitting outside the building, with their siren lights on but their sirens off, like they were there just watching or something

#dream blog #dream diary #dynamic recollection #long post #minecraft #this dream has no Minecraft in it but it was used to artistically recreate the White Cube Complex

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junisfics · 3 years

Text

The Worthy — Eren Jaeger (6)

Chapter Six: The Aftermath

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x Reader

Word Count: 4k

Series Summary: Reader is reaching a point in her relationship where sex is coming up in conversation. but she’s an inexperienced virgin. And who’s better to show her the ropes than her best friend Eren?

Chapter Summary: After previous events, Eren and Reader practice communication once more by setting some boundaries.

Content: Unestablished Relationship, Domestic Fluff

Content Warnings: Mentions of Smut, Sexual Fantasies

Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

“Hello, to whom am I speaking?” Your mom had said through the phone. On the other end of the line was Eren, who was now calling her due to your sleeping figure on his living room couch.

“Hi ma’am, this is Eren… Jaeger.” Eren’s cautious of his volume, not wanting to wake you.

It’s been a few hours since you fell asleep on top of him, your arms still wrapped around his neck and legs still straddled his waist. He had carefully moved you off of him, gently setting your head atop the pillow and grabbing a throw blanket to lay over your bare legs. He couldn’t stay with you while you slept, he was already pushing his boundaries.

“Eren? Oh, honey, I haven’t seen you in forever! How are you?” Your mom beams.

The last time Eren and your mom had spoken was at a dinner party at your house, Armin’s family had attended as well. She had asked Eren about college. But other than that, due to the distancing between you and Eren, they haven’t spoken at all.

“I’m doing well, thank you. How are you?” Eren rises in his seat to look over the back of the couch to check your status. He sits at his kitchen table, the same one from the first night you were with him, with his laptop open to a school document and the pale glow of the computer illuminating his face.

“I’m wonderful, thank you for asking,” Eren can almost hear her smile, “I’m assuming you’re calling on behalf of my child? She told me she’d be back around three and well… it’s a bit later than three. And we aren’t really the ones to have a casual phone conversation together.” She laughs

“Yeah. We went to lunch after her exam then came back to my place. She ended up falling asleep on the couch.” Eren smiles, glancing back over to you once more.

“Oh of course. You know how those exams are, I bet she’s exhausted.”

“Oh yeah, I’ll have her call you when she wakes up if that’s alright,” Eren suggests.

“That would be wonderful, thank you. Come visit sometime soon, Eren, don’t be a stranger,” She says genuinely.

Every once and a while she’ll ask about Eren or Armin and how they’re doing or what they’re up to. And you’ll have to tell her the same thing every time, ‘they’re good, Mom. No, I don’t know what they’re doing’ because you didn’t have the heart to tell her that you’re not as close to them as you used to be.

“Of course. It was nice speaking with you.” Eren can feel his face grow hot at your mother’s request.

“You too, honey. Bye-bye.”

Moments after the call had ended, you had shot up; fully awake and temporarily disoriented. You had an old blanket strewn over your body, one you recognize making with Eren at a school fundraiser event in fourth grade, and your hair was astray around your head. When you shift your legs around, you panic at the sensation of the blanket over your bare thighs, realizing that you don’t have pants on.

“Jesus, you have a nightmare or something?” You hear Eren chuckle from your right.

You jerk your head towards his voice to see him sitting at the table with his computer screen blocking off the bottom half of his face from your vision.

It was the blue hour, the sun had just set and now a milky cool-blue has flooded itself across the once sunset-pink sky. You can just see the little indirect glow of the setting sun in the West. The house smelled like a blend between a comforting tomato smell and something floury, it made your mouth water.

Eren had the oven light on over whatever was cooking on the stovetop, and the only other light in the house was the one above the breakfast bar counter that was just behind the couch. He had his hair pulled back behind his head and black-rimmed glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose, he also had changed sweatpants.

And then you realize why you’re here, that embarrassment that you were worried about earlier begins to flood through you.

“Didn’t know you wore glasses,” You look to him but shy away quickly, your skin growing hot at the recollection of earlier, “What time is it?”

Eren closes his laptop slowly, then glances to the oven clock, “6:19”

“Six?!” Your eyes grow wide, “Oh my god, my mom’s going to kill me.” You hold the blanket close to your body as you reach over the side of the couch to grab your leggings that were discarded on the floor.

“I called her just before you woke up, ‘told her you’d call her once you did,” Eren says.

You slip your feet through your leggings quickly, then pull the waistband up your legs. You remain seated on the couch as you lift your hips to pull them up. Once you’re completely clothed you toss the blanket aside and stand up, legs a little wobbly, but you stand. You blink a few times in an attempt to collect yourself.

“I fell asleep?” You’re speaking out loud, not really looking for an answer. You cautiously look around for your phone.

“Guess you were all fucked out, huh?” Eren snickers, getting up from his chair to stir the wooden spoon that rests in the saucepan on the stove.

You cringe, picking up your phone from the coffee table beside the armrest, “Don’t say that.”

Eren faces away from you as you make your way around the couch, one hand stirring while the other fiddles with the flame settings of the other pot on the stove. You stop to set your phone on the breakfast counter, watching him intently as he continues tending to whatever he’s made.

“I need to go,” You say, waiting for him to turn around and say something before you move for your shoes.

“Stay for dinner, ‘made enough for you. We need to talk, anyways.” He doesn’t look to you as he speaks, convinced you’ll stay due to his stated reasons.

And you do, you mumble a little, ‘okay’ before sliding yourself into one of the bar chairs and resting your arms on the countertop. His kindness makes your chest tight with admiration and you’re still taking in the fact that you had fallen asleep at Eren’s house after he fingered your lights out; someone who, up until just over a week ago, you hadn’t spoken to for more than a few minutes at a time.

“Call your mom.” He reminds you.

You don’t verbally acknowledge him, but he knows you’ve listened by the series of monotonous beeps and the dull ringing that follows his request.

You didn’t know how your mom had reacted to his call, so you had no idea how she would react to yours.

“Goodmorning, sweet girl!” She laughs through the line. Eren must have told her you had fallen asleep.

“Hi, mom. I’m just at Eren’s. ‘Think I’m going to stay for dinner if that’s okay?” You mumble, shying away from speaking too loud. You knew Eren could hear you, but something on talking about him with your mom made you sheepish.

You can hear her chuckle once more through the phone before responding, “Yes, that’s alright. Tell Eren I said ‘hi’ once more… and text me when you’re on your way home, please.”

“Yep, I will. Love you, bye.” You hang up after she says ‘I love you’ back, then press your lips into a line as you set your phone back down, “She says ‘hi’, again.” You speak lowly.

Eren laughs softly as he turns off the heat to the larger pot then grabs the black handles on the side and makes his way over to the sink that’s to your left and set in the corner of the ‘L’ shaped counter. You notice the sink already has a strainer that sits in the bottom and realize he’s made some sort of noodles and sauce. His reading glasses fog up slightly as he pours the contents of the pot into the strainer, and he has to turn his head away from the steam. You smile softly as he scrunches his nose from the heat.

“Can you turn off the heat on the other one over there?” He asks, nodding his head back towards the stove.

Although he’s focused on the things in front of him, you give him a nod and slip out of the barstool. You watch the muscles in his back strain against the fabric of his sweatshirt as you round the corner of the counter and walk straight forward to the stove. In the tiny saucepan was just simple marinara sauce, and you’d never thought that such a basic food would pull such a strong sense of hunger from inside you.

“Didn’t pick you as a cook.” You turn down the heat, teasing him slightly at his simple choice of a meal.

“I’m actually majoring in Italian cuisine.” He falsely claims, playing into your fun. Once all the water is strained out from the noodles, he pours them all back into the dark grey pot, they meet the bottom with an audible plopping sound.

You shift aside to the counter, turning and leaning back against it with your arms crossed over your chest to watch him as he brings the pot back over and sets it atop the stove again.

“Bowls are just above you,” He says, reaching to his right to grab a dish that has a stick of butter on it. He pulls open the drawer beside him for a knife then uses it to take a good chunk out of the butter and drops it into the noodles.

“Want some noodles with your butter?” You pull open the cabinets above you and take ahold of two ceramic bowls that were glazed over with white and burnt-orange decals.

“Shut it,” He takes the pasta spoon from earlier and uses it to stir in the melting butter.

The bowls clink together as you set them onto the granite countertop and Eren’s eyes flit to the side to watch you place them down. He pulls another flush of heat across your body and you have to look away from him once more.

But wasn’t just his eyes that had you feeling warm. Seeing him so calm and peaceful, relaxed within the normalcy of his own home, made your heart ache so tenderly. His sleeves pushed up his forearms to expose his calloused and scarred hands acting so sedentary and so gentle; it was such a contrast to how he was normally seen. He was sharing a part of himself that was so foreign to others.

It almost felt wrong. You felt too close to him far too quickly.

“Hope you’re okay with the sex talk while eating this time,” He says, grabbing one of the bowls from in front of you and filling it with spaghetti noodles.

“Do I even have a choice?” You say with a smug look on your face as you finally look at him.

He holds the now noodle-filled bowl out in front of you, just above the other saucepan, “No. Here.” He shakes the bowl slightly.

You take it from his hand with a tiny smile on your face and turn to grab the wooden spoon in the saucepan, scooping out a decent amount of the red sauce and dropping it atop the noodles. Eren mirrors your actions once you step aside. And once he’s finished, he grabs a pair of forks from the drawers and guides you towards the kitchen table.

You sit quietly, focused on stirring the marinara with the noodles until it’s evenly dispersed, giving him the time to speak first. He sits in the chair that he had pushed out of a week ago to kiss you, just to your right and on your perpendicular. He sets his laptop on the chair to his left.

“I usually have a few rules,” He begins, stirring within his own bowl, “When I… get with girls.”

You stifle a laugh at his awkwardness. Eren was very much aware of his sexual status as well as the copious amounts of people that want to sleep with him, but he was always surprisingly humble about it. He didn’t make a big deal of it; like it was a school extracurricular or something.

“But obviously ours are going to be a little different because of… circumstances.” He smiles, twisting around his fork, “The first one should be a given, but sometimes it’s not for some girls… I don’t know. But my first rule: always ask for consent… both ways.”

You nod as you take your first bite of food, both out of acknowledgment and appreciation. It sounds ridiculous, but the pure act of asking for permission was quite foreign these days; and even though it’s the bare minimum, it’s so deeply admired.

“Second one: no cuddling, which we’ve already partially broken and is also the reason why I got you off me,” He continues, “But, it can’t happen anymore.”

That rule almost hurts. It’s understandable, but it hurts. Eren’s going to be taking your first everything, maybe everything, and you aren’t even allowed to lay with him. After something like he did today, you find yourself wanting to be close to him… which is probably why it’s best not to.

So, you nod as you chew.

“Third: communication.” He chuckles, “You’re going to need to tell me everything you’re feeling… good or bad, inside and outside of sexual situations. This kind of goes with consent but it’s a little different.”

His statements are just now beginning to catch up with you in the time period aspect. He’s speaking as if this is going to happen again, speaking as it will happen again. He’s speaking on behalf of incidents in the past but also covering the possibilities in the future.

God, you were hoping he couldn’t see the way your fork begins to shake in your hand.

“And then the other ones that might not apply to this but I’ll mention them, just in case..”

Just in case.

“This isn’t exclusive, no sleeping over, and always use protection.”

Just in case.

You have to break eye contact and you almost choke on your noodles. He mentions protection because ‘just in case’.

“But we’ll burn that bridge if we get to it.” He speaks so nonchalantly that, that itself, has you taken aback.

You give him another nod, it was absentminded but it was genuine. You catch yourself wondering if you would ever get the point where the ‘just in case’ would be found useful. The thought itself has your chest tightening and your face growing hot. Being the only one Eren’s with, sleeping over at his house… in his bed… with him, feeling him inside you; it feels so wrong but so right.

And remembering that this isn’t a relationship, not a real one at least, makes you somewhat sad. You knew that that’s a horrible thing to think. You were in another relationship-not-a-relationship ordeal, you had no right thinking about what it would be like to get with Eren… but not even just get with him but be with him.

Could you really blame yourself? Eren’s so incredibly understanding, stupidly attractive, and has brought you more pleasure in the past week than you have ever experienced in your entire life. Of course, you’d harbor some feelings for him over time, how couldn’t you?

But you guess that’s the entire point of his rules. They’re to make sure nothing like that happens. And the fact that you’ve already found yourself conflicted about your feelings for him shows that rules should have come up in conversation a bit sooner.

“I’ll keep helping you as long as you need it,” He says, and the sweet smile he gives you makes your heart flutter.

The both of you finish eating in rather comfortable silence. The much-needed boundaries had been set and are now out of the way, the awkward tension dissipating. But, every once and a while you’ll remember that a few hours ago, Eren was between your thighs, and it will have your entire body running hot once more. But other than that, you were relaxed in each other’s company.

While you helped him with cleaning the dirtied dishes, your thoughts float back into that headspace that so craves his time and validation. You were at peace with him in this strangely domestic moment, and he with you. And you can’t help but wonder, ‘what if it could always be like this?’

“Stop thinking about it.” He says, nudging the dripping wet bowl he just cleaned against your forearm.

You and he both had your sleeves rolled up to your elbows. His hands were wrist-deep in soapy, hot water, while yours were holding a large, thin, white towel with green embroidery on it. It read ‘Monday’ on it, with fancy lettering and an arrangement of flowers surrounding the word. It was a Saturday.

His comment has you laughing uncomfortably. Was he really that well at reading people, or were you just an easy person to read?

You look down to the plate and take it from his hands, “I wasn’t thinking about… earlier —” You stutter.

“Sure you weren’t,” He says, “Don’t worry, I was too.”

My god, will he ever make a comment that doesn't send electricity coursing through your entire body?

You let out an audible choke, “D — don't say things like that.”

You stare down at your hands as you wipe at the ceramic bowl. You were surely overdrying it, the fabric now running over the surface smoothly. Your fingertips begin to prune from the warm water.

“Why not?” Out of the corner of your eyes, you can see him glance down at you. He’s got a stupid, boyish smirk on his face that tells you that he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“I — I just —” You start, setting the bowl aside and resting your forearms on the edge of the sink.

“You can admit it was good, you know.” He laughs, “I mean, you seemed to be liking it.”

Probably because you did like it, of course you did, But you weren't the only one. Eren couldn’t get the image of you out of his head: your pretty face all scrunched in pleasure, legs trembling around his head, sucking in his fingers real nice… you were burned into his eyelids. He was going to have masturbation material for weeks.

“Of course I did — Jesus — but we don't need to talk about it after.” You mumble, tucking your hair behind your ear before grabbing the second bowl from him.

“Oh but, we do,” He teases, nudging his elbow against your bicep, “C’mon, what was your favorite part?”

You blink a few times, opening and closing your mouth like a fish as you flit your vision between him and your hands, “Eren —”

“Was it… when I... fucked you with my tongue? That pulled a nice reaction from you. ‘Could tell you were listening to my ‘non-verbal communication’ lesson.” He continues.

You shy away from him, tilting your head towards but pulling away from him as you squeeze your eyes shut. His resurrection of the incident alone has your stomach turning.

“What about when I filled you with my fingers, hm?” He laughs cruelly at your reaction, bringing his head down and level with yours, leading with his nose to speak besides your ear.

The still slick bowl slips out of your fingers and clatters down into the sink, your hands falling forward to brace yourself against the counter, “No.”

“No?” His questioning is exaggerated.

You breathe in through your nose slowly, shutting your eyes and trying to regulate your body. You bite at the inside of your cheek and turn your face away to prevent him from seeing the embarrassed distortion of your face.

“When you kissed my calf… I — I liked that… the best.” You whisper. Your expression slips and your lips turn into a little smile of recollection.

“Interesting,” He brings himself back upright, almost standing proud, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

You scoff, shaking your head as you reach for the dropped bowl, “Like how you did with my comment about teasing, hm?” Your comment is quick, and you keep your head down as you speak.

“Absolutely,” He passes you the saucepan just as you finish drying the bowl, “Only the best for you.”

You laugh breathily at that, your cheeks growing even warmer than before. You could almost feel your heart flutter and flap around in your chest. Although he said it teasingly, you could hear the sincerity lurking low in his voice.

Hearing his audible confirmation that this is about you, and not him taking advantage of your vulnerability, was massively comforting. He was doing this for you; he was up in the middle of the night for you, made two servings of spaghetti for you. He was helping you for you and not for his own personal gain.

Were you ever going to be able to do something for him?

“Eren, you don’t have to be doing this if you don’t want to.” You mumble, setting the final pan aside to rest with the other clean dishes on the countertop. You wipe at your hands with the slightly damp rag.

You can hear him inhale as he wipes his hands on his sweatpants, he shakes them out a few times before turning and leaning back against the counter beside the sink. You can feel his eyes on you as you stare at the drain in the sink.

“Who said I didn’t want to?” He asks.

You swallow, pressing your lips into a line before looking at him, “Why would you?”

Eren smiles, bringing his eyes down to the floor in front of him with his tongue in his cheek and his arms crossed over his chest. Even though he wasn’t looking at you, all of his attention was directed towards you.

“You were my first friend,” His voice is quiet, “Can’t just leave you to die.”

You laugh, bringing yourself upright and tucking your hair behind your ears as you gain the courage to bring your head up and smile at him.

You wish you didn’t.

Because he’s got that look again, that stance, that glint in his eyes that makes you absolutely melt and turns your brain stupid. He was drinking you in and undressing you with his eyes again, and although you haven’t experienced it, you could swear he was wanting to bend you over this counter and take you right then.

And he was. God, if Eren had met you any other way; if you weren’t his childhood best friend, if you weren’t in such a vulnerable position; if he’d met you in class or something or at a party and your entire friendship wasn’t on the line, he would have you every fucking day of the week.

He hates admitting it, but he can’t lie to himself.

He’s already found himself lingering his glances over the curves in your face and body, savoring the way your lips quirk into a smile, drinking in your figure, and getting drunk on it. Your physicality was already turning him soft, and if he wasn’t careful, so would your brain.

“Thank you. Not for the… the sexual part of it… but for everything else too.” You try not to shy away again, “I mean, I guess the… the sexual part is —”

“Is nice too?” He adds.

“ — Is nice too.” You nod with a laugh.

Eren brings a hand to give the top of your head a pat, “It only gets better from here.”

#eren jaeger smut #eren jaeger x reader #eren jaeger x reader smut #eren yeager x reader #eren yeager x reader smut #eren yeager smut #eren smut #eren x reader smut #eren x reader #the worthy #1k

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forestlingincorporated · 3 years

Text

I wanna talk about Janet Drake

I’m not against exaggeratedly evil versions of Tim’s parents, tbh. It’s fanfiction, if we can depict an Exaggeratedly Good version of Bruce (which we can, and I do, and I love) then we can depict the Drakes as Exaggeratedly Bad. As someone who personally identifies with Tim, and his brand of complicated parental abuse in particular, I find it cathartic to uncomplicate that abuse and rescue him from the Obviously Evil Bad People.

That said, since much of comics lore is passed down word of mouth, the oral tradition surrounding Tim has developed this idea of Janet as The Worse Parent between her and Jack that was never really present in the comics. We see much LESS of Janet, and we have 20 years worth of comics depicting Jack as a neglectful hotheaded idiot who ultimate does love his son. More importantly, Jack isn’t very much LIKE Tim, so there is a habit to attribute Tim’s traits to his mother... and, as someone who really really identifies with Tim, Tim has... some negative traits. Tim can be a bitch sometimes. He’s fiercely intelligent and sweet and kind, with a strong sense of justice, but he can be cold and judgmental and unthinking - he fights those traits, but he does have them.

And it is perfectly fine to depict Janet that way. I’ve enjoyed depictions of Cold Calculating Janet Drake, but it’s not the ONLY option, and I want to challenge fans to consider different avenues. Tim could pick up these traits from anywhere: a nanny, Mrs. Mc Ilvaine (”Mrs. Mac”), a teacher, tv, Sherlock Holmes novels, Bruce Wayne himself. Tim is capable of not being like EITHER parent.

So, what do we KNOW about Janet? (I’ll also touch on Jack, but only in scenes he appears with Janet.)

When Janet was first introduced she was depicted as a gentle but “modern” woman. This was written in 1989, told by a 13 year old Tim, so this theoretically was meant to take place in 1979. I’m not here to give a lecture on the history of sex discrimination in the united states, but much of the legislation protecting women in the workforce or surrounding women’s bodily autonomy would have been very very new in this initial depiction.

Here, Janet is shown to be encouraging, emotional, maternal, and projects her own feelings onto Tim. Jack is shown to be slightly sexist, possibly discouraging, but not overbearing. And the artist is shown not to know how to draw children.

To insert some speculation, I think it’s important to note all the Drakes witnessed a terrible murder/accident that day. I point this out, because this is the last time Jack and Janet are depicted this way. It’s possible they changed as a result of this event specifically.

However, this is also a story being told by Tim. It’s also possible these events aren’t really “real” at all, and Tim is misremembering what his parents were like as a three-year-old, possibly projecting a more palatable version of his parents into the narrative. This is entirely up to personal interpretation.

In fact, the Drakes are shown in Legend of the Dark Knight attending Haly’s Circus, and the artist knows what a toddler looks like and they’re depicted as already having a slightly strained relationship. Jack is clearly on the defensive, and Janet seems to be passive-aggressive, though she could just be attempting to explain the situation to her toddler honestly. The intended tone isn’t especially clear.

I do want to point out, in this depiction, Tim isn’t being carried like he was in the previous one. He’s walking ahead of his parents, which isn’t a terrible horrible crime, but could be dangerous in a crowded place like the circus. Might be a subtle hint to his parents overall neglect.

Back to A Lonely Place of Dying, in Tim’s memories of the night he discovered Robin and Dick Grayson were the same person at nine-years-old, his parents are home, and watching TV together while Tim played... trucks, idk, in the living room with them. (This is semi-interesting, because you could say “oh, Tim liked vehicle toys as a kid” or you could extrapolate that this is another subtle indication of Jack’s sexism, providing Tim with appropriately “boy toys.” Either interpretation is valid. If Tim was assigned female at birth, would they have been given “girl toys,” or allowed to play with whatever they wanted?)

This is, to my knowledge, the only panel of the Drakes when Tim is between ages 3 and 13. They’re all together, which might indicate that the Drakes were home more often when Tim was 9, only later going on business trips when Tim was “old enough” but...

This is Tim’s boarding school when he’s 13. While most boarding schools in the US are for grades 9-12, Tim is clearly not a freshman at age 13; look how much younger the other kids in this panel are. In the US, the youngest you can attend most boarding schools is 7.

That means Tim could have begun going to boarding school anytime between 7 and 13. He most likely spent all of middle school in boarding school, at least. There are an almost infinite number of possible ways the Drakes handled having a business that required lots of international travel, an archeology hobby, AND a very young child. Janet staying home until Tim was 7, 11, 13, is equally possible as the Drakes having a nanny until 7, 11, 13. Tim just doesn’t talk about that period of his life very much.

(”What about Mrs. Mac?” - it is unclear when Mrs. Mac begins working for the Drakes. We only see her when Jack comes out of his coma. She could either be a long standing staff member, or a recent hire.)

Note: I’ve seen it said that it’s canon that “According to Tim, when his parents were home, they made a point to try and include him in their activities, bringing him along to events that were normally adults only.” I have never seen this panel, or I don’t remember it, so I cannot confirm, but I also cannot debunk this because... comics.

By the time Tim is 13, Jack and Janet are away on business trips a lot, with limited communication, and no firm return date. If I’m feeling generous, I’d say it was harder to communicate internationally in 1990 than it is today. If I’m not feeling generous, I’d say the Drakes are extremely wealthy, and international communication was easier than ever before in the 80s and 90s. They’re not even going home to see Tim in a week or two, they’re going home and calling Tim at boarding school in a week or two.

Even Bruce thinks its weird, though he doesn’t say so to Tim’s face. It’s written almost as if Tim’s parents’ neglect was meant to be a plot point that just got forgotten about.

Tim’s parents are fighting at this point (their poor assistant), but Janet still goes with Jack on these business trips. And she’s clearly involved in the business, somehow, but the comics never SAY what Janet’s JOB is. We’re told Jack is the exec, but Janet is ONLY ever referred to as Jack’s wife, though they’re later described as the “heads” of the company, plural.

Just to be clear, this is Jack’s business. There’s a perception that Jack is a bad business man because he and Janet fight over company decisions, and Jack looses the business after Janet dies, but Jack looses the company YEARS after Janet dies, and maintains it for about a year after No Man’s Land at that. We’re not told how Jack looses the business, but he’s got to be doing something right. Janet isn’t necessarily the “real brains” of Drake Industries.

And I’m not... gonna... touch the... exploitation and racism because... I’m not qualified to do that. But, here’s the panel. The Drakes sure seem exploitative and racist in their business decisions. Someone else can... analyze that with more nuance.

Regardless how how long they’ve been fighting, when their lives are in danger, the Drakes fall back into a loving husband and wife. Their marriage may be falling apart, but they do care about each other.

I want to show these panels because it shows that Tim and Jack do have things in common. They’re both level headed in a crisis and can be somewhat cold in their practicality. Janet meanwhile and silent. Jack is later willing rant and rave at their captors, but Janet remains silent.

That is, until they’re alone, and she finally lets herself fall apart.

God, Jack can be obnoxious. Janet just looks miserable and resigned. I actually think Tim takes after his parents in this respect in equal measure. Tim can have a temper, but he can also be fairly melancholy and defeatist.

Jack keeps reminding Janet to be strong and in control, which could be period typical sexism? But Jack seems so practiced and ready with the words of encouragement, and with Tim’s history with depression, I wonder if Janet has an inclination towards it as well.

As the end approaches, when Jack brings up Tim, Janet seems to have a lot of regret. She talks about “wasting” the good things, and I don’t think it’s too big of a stretch to assume she’s talking about time spent with her only child.

From this point on, Janet is at times spoken of, but not seen. Like here, when Jack says Janet wouldn’t approve of him and Tim being so “far apart.” He says this after he tells him he takes back his threat to send him back to boarding school, which might imply Janet was against the idea of boarding school? Though she obviously lost that argument when she was alive.

Jack will of course renege on this later, but that’s Jack Drake for you.

Or here in Tim’s illness induced dream, where he gets everything he wants. Though, since this is a fantasy of Tim’s, where his father and girlfriend are both more accepting and understanding than they are in real life, I would take this depiction of Janet with a grain of salt.

After loosing Drake Industries, Jack thinks about Janet (though, they call her Catherine/Cathy for some fucking reason) during his depressive episode. And... uh...

Hallucinates a Valkyrie???? Is this symbolic of suicidal thoughts, or is she... real? Or is he seriously hallucinating?

Anyway, we’re not here to discuss Jack’s mental state, the fact that he forgot Tim’s birthday, or that concerning “I was going to knock some sense into you but you’re still bigger than me” statement from Tim, we’re here to talk about Janet. And even though this entire arc is about Jack mourning his first wife, they don’t SAY anything about Janet herself at all. I mean, they don’t even get her name right, so I guess what was I expecting.

Then there’s Origins and Omens, which also doesn’t say anything about Janet, except that Tim’s memory of her is faulty - Janet was poisoned, her assistant Jeremy’s throat was slit on television, but Tim seems to have conflated the death he did see with the death he didn’t.

The only piece of canon to suggest that Janet might be cold, is Tim compares her to Thalia. And even then, he’s really just saying Janet was protective of him. It’s kind of a scary look to make at your kid, but Bruce does the same thing, so.

I do want to say... it’s not 100% clear if Tim is even talking about Janet. He could be talking about Dana. Dana was observably protective of Tim, though I don’t think he’s ever called her mom. He PROBABLY means Janet.

And finally we have Tim visiting his mother’s grave (in a duel Christian/Jewish cemetery, make of that what you will), where Tim says she was “a little religious.”

And that’s it! That is all we know about Janet Drake in New Earth. Hardly the Mom From Hell, but she isn’t perfect. I’d be interested in seeing some alternate depictions of her within the fandom.

I’m still gonna eat up Terrible Parents From Hell like a starving puppy dog, though. Just some food for creative thought.

#Tim Drake #janet drake #jack drake #robin #Red Robin #character analysis

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tnystrk-exe · 3 years

Text

Estocolmo

Hannibal x Reader

Masterpost

Warnings: Smut 18+ thigh riding, fingering, oral, daddy kink, plot to make up for my first attempt at writing smut.

Word count: 6.8k

Chapter One

“Fucking hell.” You sighed as you looked at the still tall stack of essays that needed grading. “I’m never getting through this.”

Your stomach grumbled, signaling it was time for a break. Stretching, the quiet was interrupted by the sound of your bone’s protest from sitting in one position for hours. It was nights like these you had regretted your choices. Sure you had known Professor Jacob loved to torture his students with too much work, but when you took the job as his assistant you assumed that he’d shoulder some of the weight. A ridiculous thought now that you’ve experienced working with him. Why should he even think of grading an assignment when he had a perfect little lackey doing it for him? That was a non question. He had been strict about the work not leaving his office, which meant you had accidentally fallen asleep in his office more than often than you would have liked. The pile of work never seemed to diminish.

Walking out the office, you thought briefly of the joy you would feel when you’d never have to see it again. These long corridors would be a thing of the past in just a few, short months. Then you’d probably go to the city and struggle for a while but at least you would be free from here. As much as you prided yourself for getting through the first round of college, the walls of the building gave you more of an annoyed feeling than anything.

Pushing open the door to the teachers lounge, you made a beeline for the fridge. The leftover pizza already seemed like a feast until you noticed it was nowhere to be seen. “Hannibal,” you whined to the empty room as you closed the fridge.

“Yes, darling?”

You startled, immediately turning around to face him, a mischievous smile was plastered on his lips. Usually your missing dinner meant to head over to his office. It wasn’t typical, but the two of you had managed a comfortable friendship between the shared late nights. Though, you suspected he’d stay longer than necessary to accompany you in the empty building. “Would you mind telling me where my dinner went, handsome?” You asked, raising a brow at him.

“Old pizza can hardly be considered dinner. Come,” he motioned to sit next to him at the table, “I’ve got a better meal prepared for you nonetheless.”

“Or maybe you just need to learn to appreciate the simple things,” you quipped as you took your seat.

“And you, the finer.”

You gave him an obvious look over, “I’d say I appreciate you plenty enough.”

Being so forward wasn’t usually in your cards. However Hannibal had always been a gentleman and it had been fun to tease at him a bit. He never complained, often just acknowledging what you said with a raised brow or chuckle. Still there was always some truth in jokes and you’d be lying to say that he was anything less than tempting. Especially in the dark grey suit and dried blood red shirt of his. ‘No’ wouldn’t come to mind if he ever offered.

“Naughty, Miss LN,” he chided you, “What shall we do with you?”

“What do you want to do with me?”

“Eat your dinner,” he said, humor in his voice as he shook his head.

You choked back a comment about him just wanting to see your mouth stuffed, deciding it was too much of a push. Instead you just opened the lunchbox he placed in front of you. Hannibal watched you expectantly as you took a bite of the meat.

Closing your eyes, you savored the bite. It had been a while since you had something home cooked. “Han... I’m going to miss you most. I don’t know what I’m gonna do without you. Delicious, as always.”

“I’m sure you’ll do just fine.” He went back to work on his own stack of papers as you ate. “Though, I’m not sure I’m ready to allow you to live off street food once we part.”

“Guess we’re gonna have to find me another man that insists on throwing away my perfectly good food to serve me home cooked meals.”

Hannibal left some remarks on a paper before pushing it to the side. “You could always come learn a few things. Maybe I’ll rest better knowing you know how to make yourself a couple of decent meals. Any guesses for the meat?”

It was a strange guessing game, but you indulged him, he was just eccentric. “Oh, definitely human,” you teased, making sure to pick up some spinach and artichoke in the next bite, “Probably had a boring name like David.”

“Close. It was Richard,” he corrected.

“Beef, it was the Rolex of all farm animals hand picked by you and I’m very grateful you shared some with me,” you smiled at him, “So how are things going with Baltimore?”

“I’ve found a beautiful home. The office, however, seems to be harder to find.”

“I’m sure you’ll find the perfect one.” Your phone started ringing. Grabbing it from your pocket, you looked at the screen. Mom. “They’re making this unnecessarily difficult,” you sighed to yourself.

Hannibal looked at you with peaked interest as you shut off your phone and pushed it away. “Is something troubling you?”

“My parents aren’t taking too kindly to the no contact rule. It’s the tenth call today.”

“You’ve cut them off?”

“I thought about what you had said,” you shrugged, “I’m tired of always having to get them out of troubles and be their ATM when I don’t have enough for myself. It’s just too much on me right now. Between school assignments, Jacob’s work pile, and my other part time, it’s all just suffocating. They keep trying to use my grandfather’s death as a leverage to make me feel bad about not talking to them now, but they just want some money. I don’t want to feel guilty about this but I can’t help it.”

“Don’t,” he placed his hand over yours, “You deserve to feel taken care of and appreciated. They aren’t providing you with that now. Especially now when they use the death of the person who raised you as leverage,” he shook his head, making a disgusted sound, “It’s for your own well-being that you take some time to breathe and be young. They provide too much stress…” Hannibal fell silent. “I’ve suggested this before but i-“

You gave his hand a gentle squeeze before pulling away. “I’m not taking your money. We’re friends. Money complicates things. Muddies the waters.”

“Friends help each other,” he reminded you, “I’ve already told you I wouldn’t want any payment.”

“But I’d still feel like I owe you.” You shook your head, “It wouldn’t feel right to me. I’m fine. I promise. Though, if you’re so willing to help me with something, I wouldn’t say no to those cooking lessons. They could be fun.”

He spared you a smile, “It would be my pleasure to teach you what I know.”

“And I’d never deny your pleasure,” your mouth spoke before you could think about it, “Sorry.”

“I don’t deny myself pleasure either,” he said, amused. “You’re fine. Now, how about we meet on Sunday? I’ll have time to figure out a full meal and gather all of the ingredients.”

“Great!” You ignored the heat that still lingered on your face, “I- um, do you need me to bring anything?”

“Nothing at all, I’ll make sure to take care of everything. All you need to do, sweet girl, is bring yourself and an appetite.”

You stifled a pleased smile at the term of affection. “I’ll make sure to do that,” sparing a glance to the clock, you frowned, “I should probably get back to work on those essays.”

“Why don’t we work on them together?” He suggested. “My colleague is notorious for drowning you in his work. I can help you sort through it all and you can have a restful Saturday without Micheal’s added stress.”

“I really can’t ask that of you. You already have enough work as it is.”

“We’ll work together. First your work, then mine. What happened to never denying my pleasure?”

Your eyes widened, but you laughed all the same. Maybe a while more in his company wouldn’t be so bad. “Fine. Hold me to my words, but it’s only going to cause you a headache. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. These new kids are… something else.”

“They’re nothing,” he stood, grabbing his papers in one hand, “Meet me in my office. We can be more comfortable there and I may have stowed away a bottle of wine.”

“What would I do without you Doctor Lecter?”

“You have arrived at your destination,” the robotic voice informed you as you parked.

You took in the mansion of a home. It was too big for someone that lived alone. The thought made you shiver. Homes should be filled with life, not empty space. Then again, he was a fan of dinner parties, extravagant ones at that, so you supposed there was life in those walls on occasion. The home itself reminded you of the houses in old movies. Ones where the lightning would strike at just the right moment as a warning to stay away. But this was real life and there was no lightning, just a sun setting on a near perfect day.

Without a warning telling you to keep away, you grabbed the gift bag and stepped out of your car. He had said to bring nothing, but you couldn’t resist a simple gift. The ties in the bag had taken out a decent chunk from your pocket, but he deserved them. Between agreeing to give you cooking lessons and helping you out with grading every so often, the simple pieces of fabric meant nothing. Besides, it was a two way gift, he’d get more of the patterned ties he was fond of and you’d get to see him in the darker colors you liked on him, knowing he’d feel compelled to wear them to show you his gratitude.

Knocking on the door, you waited a couple of minutes before he emerged. “YN, just in time. Please, come in,” he stepped to the side, “I’ve looked forward to this all day.”

You smiled and stepped past him. “I have too. Entertained myself a bit today by finding you a gift.”

“Darling, you shouldn’t have.”

Nervousness bit at you slightly, a bit self conscious they’d be too cheap for his taste. Too late to back out of it, you handed over the bag. “You’ve always been so kind and I really appreciate everything. Let me do something for you.”

He set the bag on the nearby table, laying out the ties to get a better look at them. “They’re all lovely,” he ran a finger across the fabric of a maroon one, “Fond of me in darker colors, YN?”

“What can I say?” You shrugged, “We catch ourselves spending a lot of time together. Why not make you a decent piece of eye candy?”

“Inappropriate,” he chided you, before signaling you to follow after him.

“You just wear them so well, Doctor Lecter.”

Shrugging off his navy suit coat, he draped it over a chair, making quick work of rolling up his sleeves. “Ready to get your hands dirty, my little sous-chef?”

“What are we making?” You asked, looking at his kitchen wide eyed. It was definitely bigger than your measly studio apartment.

“Frisee aux lardons, duck with a pomegranate-citrus glaze. I took the liberty of preparing a blood orange sorbet for dessert.”

“I have a proposal.”

“Yes?”

“We don’t do any of that and just have dessert for dinner.”

“No,” he gave you an amused glance, “There’s more pleasure in waiting for things. Why don’t you start washing up the vegetables and I’ll start preparing the duck?”

You stuck your tongue out at his back but set to your work. “This is what I get for befriending a charming old guy.”

“Keep going the way you are and our next meal together will be langue d’Agneau en papillote.”

“That can’t be a threat if I don’t know what that means,” you quipped, setting aside an endive.

“It means, darling,” he pointed his knife at you, “The fondness I feel for you is an inconvenience. Nonetheless, it’s welcomed.”

You smiled at him brightly, as you brought the washed vegetables over to him. “I’m fond of you too, but you gotta stop flirting and teach me how we’re gonna cook Daffy here.”

He motioned for you to grab a cutting board and a knife of your own. The two of you worked in quiet harmony, occasionally he’d tell you exactly why he was doing something a certain way or just give you simple instructions and let you have a hands on feel of exactly how to prepare something. It was nice to see him in his element. Hannibal seemed much more content in his kitchen than any where you had seen him at the college. Eventually he set his work to the side and washed his hands.

“You’re cutting them too thick. Thinner is better for this dish.” He stepped behind you, “Do you mind?”

“Go ahead.” You attempted to move to the side, but Hannibal had already caged you in between himself and the counter. His cologne was different from the one you were accustomed to him wearing, but the subtle spice of it gave a more homey feeling to him.

Hannibal grabbed your hand that had yet to let go of the knife. He made sure to show you how to cut them the right thickness. “See? A little thing can unbalance everything.”

“Hm,” you hummed, catching yourself relaxed against the man, his frame strong against yours, “I don’t see much of a difference. Pretty sure this is just your variation of a putter.”

“You assume I have hidden motives,” He acknowledged, looking down at you, “And if there were any?”

Taking the bait, you pressed a kiss to the side of his jaw. “I wouldn’t be too upset.”

His head dipped into your shoulder, taking in a breath. “What happened to not wanting to bring on complications in our friendship?”

“We only have weeks left with each other,” you shrugged, “There wouldn’t be any complications. Not really.”

“We really should get back to making our dinner, darling,” he sighed, almost seeming reluctant to pull away, “What else did you did you do today?””

It took you a second to respond, still shaking off the embarrassment. You weren’t sure what had compelled you to do that. When you looked up at him you grimaced. Grabbing a napkin, you carefully wiped away the lingering lipstick. “The ties were the more interesting part of the day, I didn’t plan anything eventful. Honestly most of my day was taken with trying to recall the shop you mentioned that carried the ones you liked.”

He hummed in appreciation, “You also managed to pick out two I have had my eye on. I’ve got new suits coming in soon that will pair perfectly.”

You beamed at that, happy he did actually like what you had chosen. “Lucky guess. It was difficult remembering the ones I had seen you wear.”

Hannibal made to grab some ingredients and set them on the counter near the stove. “Have your parents tried calling you this weekend?”

You sighed, sure you didn’t have to tell him the truth but you wanted to, he had a compelling thing to him that made it easy to just speak. “I sent them money for rent. Which was honestly the dumbest thing I’ve done in a while.”

“It wasn’t idiotic,” he stated, setting to work on making the pomegranate sauce as you watched, “They’re you’re parents. It’s only natural you worry about them. Though, I do worry they’ll think of you as a person that doesn’t stick to her word.”

“I know, I really meant to, but the thought of them out on the street. It’s not my responsibility, but I’m just so used to being their adult.”

“It’s difficult to detransition. You worry for them as they should worry for you.” He checked over a pan he had been heating, “That’s perfect. If you could please..” Grabbing the plate with the duck you set them on the pan. “With duck it’s important to render off the fat. A low heat is necessary.”

You nodded, “Low and slow, got it... You know, I’m not sure they worry about me at all. I mean- I know they don’t. It should hurt, but it’s just a fact of life.”

“They didn’t give you an opportunity to be a child. When you were supposed to be in the most carefree moments of your life, they burdened you with the responsibilities of an adult.” He held out a spoon with some of the pomegranate sauce for you to taste. “Any pain the notion inflicted on you has been killed with time.”

“There are still moments though. Suppose that’s common enough, isn’t it Doc?” You leaned in, allowing him to feed you, “That tastes amazing. I really should have paid attention.”

“It’s simple, I’ll write it out for you later.” Casting the sauce aside, he set a pot of water to boil. “Very common. We aren’t too dissimilar when it comes to how quickly we had to grow up. Very different reasons, but the fall out isn’t much different. Our paths left us in places where we’re very much alone.”

“What happened?” You asked, realizing that he had known a great deal of your family and you had known nothing more past how his day had gone or his preference of coffee. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

“I don’t.” Hannibal went to fill two glasses with wine. “I was very young when my parents died. My father had implemented in me that, if anything were to happen, I was to take care of my mother and sister. Which meant I had grown fiercely protective of Mischa when the time came. Soon I was acting more as her father than a brother.”

“Where’s Mischa now?” You asked, knowing at the very least she had to be in her late twenties.

His lips set into a frown, he took a quick drink. “Lost her sometime after. There was a lapse of judgement on my part and she suffered because of it. My days have often been shrouded by the thought that I could have done better by her. The ways I failed burdens me significantly.”

You rubbed his arm sympathetically. “I couldn’t even begin to imagine that pain.”

“It’s something I never wish to experience again. Losing someone you love so dearly, it changes a person.”

“I’m sure you tried your best. You’re a good man. I’m sorry you had to go through all of that when you were so young.”

“You think too highly of me,” he patted your hand on his arm, “Far better than I deserve. Still if my childhood had taught me anything, it’s to value those I hold dear. Such as yourself.”

“I’m glad we found each other. Even if it is for a short while.” You watched as he stepped back into the rhythm of cooking. Maybe you weren’t any help to him but watching him work was comforting.

He raised a brow, “Just because the amount of time we physically see each other will diminish, doesn’t mean we need to completely break apart. I’d like to have you at my dinner table later in life.”

“I’d like it if we kept in touch,” you replied, looking at a small box on the counter. The small black beads glimmered in the light, calling at you to take a peek. A neat row of recipe cards in his impeccable penmanship, numbered as high as 120 but there could have been more. “That’s sweet,” you mused, looking at the back of a card, noticing a couple had business cards on them, “You keep track of your friends’ favorites like this?”

“Friends, acquaintances, business partners. It’s difficult remembering everyone’s preferences. When I have dinner parties I like to make sure there’s a bit of something for everyone.”

“Hm, well I’m sorry I don’t have a card for you to have.”

When everything was said and done, you helped Hannibal set up the plates to have dinner. The conversation became light as you laughed along to the better memories of Mischa. From his smile it was easy to see he adored the usually shy girl. You never pressed on to find out how she died, simply choosing to bask in his soft smiles and laughter instead of entertaining curiosity. It was easy to see he rarely talked about her and you were grateful that he found that much comfort in you.

Some time later he was sitting at his harpsichord, playing a self composed melody as you browsed his shelves. There was an almost familiar calm in the air, like this was a usual happening and it would simply just happen again. A naturally reoccurring moment. You found comfort in his presence too.

You looked up from the shelves when you heard his sigh. “I can’t seem to master this melody,” he stated, “The ending never sounds right.” The annoyed demeanor contradicted his lax look. At least lax for him. His vest and suit jacket had been discarded a while ago leaving him with a popped button, loosened tie, and rolled up sleeves. “I may just leave this one in the air.”

“Sounds perfect to me,” you said, walking over to him, “Though we can be our own worst critics. I know I’m mine.”

“It sounds… forced. Almost as if it’s reluctant to work with me.”

“Forced things just need time.” You placed your hand on his shoulders, digging in your thumbs to relieve the tension you felt. A soft groan as he let his head lull back to rest against your stomach. “Time is all you need sometimes. I thought you would have learned that already, old man.”

He opened his eyes, raising a brow at you. “Always with that mouth.”

You smiled down on him fondly, something- probably the wine in your system -thought about pressing a kiss to his forehead right then. “What can I say? It has a mind of its own.”

“I do prefer when it’s otherwise occupied,” he stated, closing his eyes again.

Your fingers dug a little deeper at that, caught off guard. “And yet.”

Hannibal played a couple soft notes, seemingly testing the waters for his next attempt at getting it to sound right. “And yet.” The first melody seemed almost innocent, but was followed by a second seemingly stalking after it. “Would you mind putting on a record? It seemed I’ve grown bored with music of my own.”

“Sure thing, Han.” Giving his shoulders one final squeeze you pulled away from him. At the record table you browsed through his selection. Hannibal was still composing as you decided to go with a record that looked more worn than the others, figuring something well loved would help him out of his frustrated state. Setting it on the platter, you gave it a brief once over with the anti static brush, knowing he’d probably be attentive to that type of thing, and dropped the needle. The music filled the air as you took in the melody. “Very you.”

He let out a soft chuckle, abandoning the harpsichord, in favor walking over to you. “Very me, indeed.” Hannibal took the record sleeve out of your hand, setting it down on the table. The music’s build up reached. “Would you give me the honor?” His hand was stretched out toward you.

You gave him a sheepish smile, “Afraid I’m going to have to disappoint. I’m not much of a dancer.”

“I’ve been told I’m a wonderful teacher,” he pressed, a charming smile on his lips, “We all start somewhere. Let me be yours.”

A soft laugh bubbled from you as you took in his look of boyish excitement. “You’re not allowed to complain when I step on your toes.” You placed your hand in his.

He gave a gentle squeeze to your hand. “If you’re too terrible, I’ll show you the way I taught Mischa. You can stand on my toes as I try to help you commit the movements into muscle memory.”

“Handsome and a comedian.”

“I try my best.” Hannibal gave you a gentle spin as he pulled you closer. A kiss was pressed to your hand before he placed it on his shoulder. “Now, just follow after me,” he instructed, placing his hand on your hip.

The moment could have made you fall for the man as you danced with him throughout the room. Toothy smiles and teasing winks were sent your way the couple of times you stepped on his toe. Soon enough, you figured out the pace and learned how to follow through with his unspoken plans. Still, ever the novice, you managed to place your foot in a way that sent you both stumbling to the floor.

Hannibal held you close to his chest, ensuring you didn’t get hurt in the fall. “Oh my sweet girl,” he laughed, “we are going to need more practice.”

You hid your face against his neck, ignoring the fact that he could feel how hot your face was getting. “You want more of that?”

“You were doing perfect, YN,” he stroked your hair sympathetically, “One misstep isn’t something to be embarrassed about.”

Taking a deep breath, you shifted off of the older man, opting to sit beside him on the floor. Hannibal followed suit, leaning back on his elbows. “I really am going to miss seeing you regularly,” you admitted, reaching out your hand to push back the hair that had fallen in front of his eyes.

“We spend much of our time together,” he acknowledged as he looked at you curiously. “In the kitchen-“

Your eyes widened slightly, “We don’t need to talk about that i-it’s fine. No hard feelings.”

“Romantically or physically?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Do you see me as a romantic or physical conquest?”

“I, um,” you opted to look at your fumbling hands, “I’m honestly not sure about romance… especially considering… everything and my experience when it comes to romance. Never really thought past- I’m talking too much.”

Hannibal’s hand tilted your chin up, forcing you to look him in the eye. “Oh? What happened to the confident girl in the kitchen? Don’t go shy on me now.”

“I was high on your cologne, you can hardly blame me,” you rambled, “It pairs with mine nicely I think.”

His thumb stroked absentmindedly at your jaw. “Such a sweet little thing you are… Now, tell me, YN, what couldn’t you think past?”

“You,” you offered lamely, “Mostly nights when I needed to relax. You’d cross my mind. I’d wonder how you felt. How’d you do things. Maybe you’d like to leave bruises only you’d ever know about…”

“There’s something special in knowing what others don’t,” Hannibal acknowledged, “I do enjoy my lovers wearing my marks, hidden from others view and only acknowledged by myself. As it should be, I’m certain you agree.”

You swallowed thickly at the implication of being marked as his solely. The idea of having normal conversations with him at the college with evidence of him knowing you well burned against your skin. Maybe you’d see if you could convince him into one particular fantasy Friday night had conjured.

He rested his thumb against your bottom lip, bringing you back to him. “I’ve had thoughts of my own… I wonder… Have you ever wrapped a hand around your own neck?” Hannibal smirked at the way your lips parted in surprise as he felt the heat rise to your face, caught in a way you hadn’t expected. “Sweet girl, were you desperate for me?”

You went to lick your bottom lip out of habit, instead finding the pad of his thumb. “Yes, sir.”

“Darling,” he sighed out softly, almost disappointed, “we could have sorted you out this entire time, if you’d only ask politely. There would have been no need for you to imagine, creative as you might have been. You always put everyone’s needs before yours, but where does that leave you?” Hannibal his thumb pressed against your lips lightly, humming in satisfaction when you let him in, already so compliant. “All you have to do is ask. What would you have me do tonight?” A soft pop sounded in the room as he pulled his thumb back, smearing your spit onto your lips and chin.

“Just tonight?” The words rolled out of your mouth thoughtlessly.

A soft laugh. “Maybe more, if you behave.”

Hannibal threaded his hand into your hair, pulling your head back slightly. Leaning closer he took a deep breath, taking you in, before leaving a simple kiss against your neck. His warm breath fanned across your face as he kept you in anticipation. Finally he graced you with a feather light kiss, so quick you weren’t sure you even noticed. You didn’t have time to feel ashamed of the whine that had escaped when he started to move away. Following after him, you caught him in an urgent kiss, threading your own hands in his hair to make sure he’d stay close. Hannibal bit at your bottom lip, his tongue sliding in the second you gasped. You ignored the sting and slight coppery taste.

Sure you had had your fair share of ventures. It was only natural to crave the attention for the night or a couple hours. However, Hannibal didn’t feel like any of your past partners. His kiss was unrelenting and passionate. Quickly he learned exactly how to kiss you to ensure you’d moan into his mouth. You weren’t sure how long had been spent like this. Lips on lips. Someone’s wandering hand trailing down the other’s body. The growing need. Every movement slowly became bolder. Hannibal took the time to pull you onto his thigh, closing the distance between you even more. He kissed along your neck until he found a spot that made you buck against him.

“Please,” you sighed out, not really knowing exactly what you wanted, but having faith that he’d give you just what you needed.

Hannibal leaned his forehead against yours, “Are you sure about this, darling?”

It wasn’t time for contemplation though, everything was already set into motion. He had just asked out of politeness. His hands moved to your hips, he dragged you against himself in a way that clouded your mind. “You’re very convincing,” you said with a shuddered breath. Leaning your head against his shoulder, you matched his rhythm. At the moment everything in the world was him and you couldn’t find it in you to mind.

“You came to me,” he pointed out. His hand tugged at your shirt and you allowed him to pull it off. Fingers raised goose bumps along your skin as he followed the fabric of your bra to unclasp the material.

“Could you blame me?” You kissed the side of his jaw for the second time this night. The lipstick mark left behind wasn’t as embarrassing when you were half undressed on his lap. A blush blossomed in your chest as you watched his darken eyes take you in.

Hannibal kissed along your chest. His hand made its way into your pants, drawing slow circles on your clit. Your soft moan and jut of your hips urged him for more. Before you could ask, he thrusted two fingers inside of you, the pace changing every so often as he took in your reactions. You leaned your head against his shoulder as you grinded against his hand. Soft whimpers were muffled by the fabric of his shirt.

“Come on sweet girl,” he used his free hand to pull you off of his shoulder by the hair, “you shouldn’t be hiding. Look at me when I’m touching you. Don’t you want to be my good toy?”

You nodded meekly, unable to make a smart comment when you saw a smirk settle on his lips as a too loud moan took its place.

“That’s it, no one can hear you,” he teased as he worked at the spot harder, his thumb rubbed at your clit. “You seem very close, what if I…”

As he went to move his hand, you grabbed his wrist to stop him. “No, no, no. Please, I’ll be good for you.”

He chuckled, but didn’t say a word as he brought his pace back up. Instead he chose to revel in your soft sounds and the way you had to focus to keep your eyes on him. Finally, he decided keeping you on the edge was enough and allowed you to cum on his fingers.

“Clean up your mess,” he said as he thrusted his cum coated fingers into your mouth, “There you go, good girl.”

You watched him as you sucked his fingers clean. Bringing a hand down you palmed cock through his pants, fully intending on returning the favor. “You’re wearing too many clothes.”

“I’m afraid that status isn’t going to change anytime soon.” Hannibal kissed your pouted lip. “Don’t worry, I fully intend on taking care of you. Come, let’s make you more comfortable.”

As he stood, Hannibal offered you his hand to help you up. You followed him through the home to his bedroom, a place you didn’t think you’d end up but were more than pleased to see. Still you weren’t exactly taking in the sights when you were pulled into a rougher kiss as he led you toward his bed. A not too gentle push to your chest landed you on top of it. Leaning back on your elbows, you watched as Hannibal took his time undressing you fully.

“You don’t play fair,” you complained, shifting yourself higher on the bed, away from him, “I like a pretty view too you know.”

He smiled, looking down at you fondly, “Very well, but only as a reward for earlier. I know you struggled.”

You smiled at that, shaking your head, “Come here won’t you?”

There wasn’t any time wasted when he settled on top of you, you didn’t have his patience. Your hands worked on his tie and buttons as his lips and teeth trailed across your chest. A subtle grind against your pussy had your thighs squeeze his waist. Pushing his shirt off, you felt down his chest, still surprised by how muscular he seemed to be underneath it all. You wondered if he’d stop you as you reached for his belt.

“That’s enough. I don’t think you’ve earned it just yet.”

An annoyed huff was all you could manage.

“All in its time, darling.” A surprisingly gentle kiss was dropped on your cheek. “Can you manage waiting a while longer for me?”

You resisted the urge to nuzzle against him, unused to such soft displays from past partners. “Yes, sir...”

“Always such a sweet, polite thing.”

Hannibal kissed and bit his way down your body, ensuring there would be evidence of him the next time you saw yourself in the mirror. He allowed you to thread your fingers in his hair, giving him a soft push down when he took too long marking you in one spot. It wasn’t much longer until Hannibal was level with your thighs, he pushed them further apart. A moment passed without anything before you remembered his rule. Willing yourself up you looked down at him, catching a wink before you were rewarded with a broad lick. Hannibal sucked your clit, pressing your hips down when you grinded against him.

A helpless noise was the most you could do.

He bit your thigh, his fingers immediately making their way back inside of you, targeting the spot he had quickly learned turned you to putty.

“You really are beautiful like this,” Hannibal acknowledged, “Completely at my mercy. Desperate for anything I’m willing to give you.”

There wasn’t any time to think up something to say as Hannibal’s mouth replaced his fingers, silencing any words that weren’t his breathy attempts of his name and pleas. Teeth grazed against your clit and a soft moan of his own was enough to pull you closer.

“Please, daddy,” you begged, too far gone to be embarrassed by your slip, “I’m close…”

Hannibal was merciful, helping you finish as quickly as you had asked. Maybe at another time he would have teased and made you hold on longer but there was only so much patience he had. Especially when there was such an eager lover begging him. You watched him, dazed, as he came back up, his hand gripping at your jaw.

“Open.”

Doing as he wanted, you opened your mouth, instantly receiving a mix of the still lingering wine he had drank at dinner and you. He watched as you swallowed.

He let out an almost dreamy sigh. “So pliant.”

Hannibal kissed you, finally allowing you to get your way as you pushed off the last clothes. You pumped him in your hand, working up the courage as you shook off the daze he had left you in. He was definitely the most talented partner you had had.

“We don’t have to go any further,” Hannibal reassured you, kissing the side of your mouth, “I’m perfectly sedated watching you.”

You shook your head immediately, not wanting him to think you were hesitant. “I want to, college guys aren’t so giving, just needed some time to clear my head.” As if to prove your point you gave him a squeeze, that made him thrust into your hand on instinct. “I just feel bad you’re doing all the work.”

“I prefer it,” he groaned quietly, as you thumbed at the slit. Hannibal rolled so that you could be on top of him, “But if you insist…”

A soft laugh. “That was hardly the fight I was expecting,” you muttered teasingly, kissing his jaw.

“My patience is running thin.”

At that you straddled him, your hand lining him up with you. His hands held you steady as you sunk onto him. The both of you moaned softly when he was fully inside. Hannibal slowly grinded you against himself as you adjusted to his size. Hands against his chest, you started riding him in earnest.

“That’s my good girl,” he praised you, his fingernails digging harder into your hips.

“Yours,” you whimpered, too enthralled in the feel of him to pay any attention to the weight of what you were saying. His groans underneath you encouraged you more than anything. “All yours.”

Hannibal sat up, wrapping an arm around your waist to keep you firm against him. His soft kiss was a contrast to how roughly he was working himself into you. You couldn’t find it in you to care that he had taken control again. Instead you wrapped your arms around his neck, letting him do as he pleased, just enjoying the way his hands and lips would travel across your body. Teasing, pinching, biting everywhere he could reach. Your chest alone would be covered in marks left behind by Hannibal. That would be a problem for the future you to deal with at the moment you were too preoccupied with begging him for more. He’d slow his thrust whenever he felt you close to the end, chuckling lowly at the whining sounds you had made.

“Give daddy one more sweet girl. I know you can.”

You moaned loudly, giving Hannibal exactly what he wanted. When he wanted. Drained, you fell limp against his shoulder. Every small sound you made broadcast directly to him as he used you for all your worth. His arms tightened around you when you tried to pull away from the over stimulation.

“Daddy’s close,” he promised, his accent thicker than usual, “I’ve taken such good care of my girl. Be good for me.”

Nodding, you dug your nails into his shoulders. You could be good. He had been so good to you after all. Still your vision blurred and it had taken a while longer for him to finally go still inside of you.

Hannibal kissed the side of your head, before pulling you to lay down against him. His thumb wiped away the stray tear that had managed to fall. “You did so well for me. Are you alright? Do you need anything?”

You sighed sleepily, curling into his side more comfortably, “I’m alright. Just want you.”

“We’ll take care of you later,” he promised, seeing how tired you were, “You should rest, darling. I’ll be right here.” His hand rested on your hip, thumbing at forming bruise gently. Between the soft touch and his quiet humming, it didn’t take long for you to find sleep.

NextChapter

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