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shesawriter39049 · 3 years

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|PRIVATE SHOW|M|

Pairing: Taehyung X Reader

SMUT/LIGHT ANGST

About-Just a casual lunch outing where Tae’s trying to do his job and your trying to get him off under the table with your shoe...nothing new!

OR- Tae and yourself are grabbing lunch at 71 Above, after checking out the last couple of venues for the company's end of the year Holiday party. While at said restaurant, it becomes a humbling reminder that the most important people in your life are essentially a secret...cute!

WC:5k

WARNINGS: Public sex -ish( A foot-job under the table) dirty talk, teasing, light edging, frontage (kinda), overstimulation, Tae comes in his YSL leather pants, mentions of Oral (Male receiving), Tae is somewhat submissive, whilst also being a little shit. “Baby boy/Good boy” Kink

DNA Era Tae meets 2020 Tae

Tae is her baby and also her Executive Assistant

He just wants to hold her hand tbh

NOTE: This is a stand alone smut drabble within my OT7 poly universe called “7 DEEP”. Short AU SUMMARY: Your husband Namjoon and yourself run a successful Adult Film Entertainment Company called “Onyx” with your 5 best friends from college who you also happen to be in an open relationship with! P.S. If you’re new here Kookie joins the party a little later….

_________________________________________________________

“So” Musing over your cocktail glass “Thoughts on the last place?”

Eyeing the man sitting across from you intently who’s clearly in the holiday spirit. Dressed in a deep red silk button-down, apparently, he’s taken a page out of Jimin’s book considering it’s barely buttoned, to begin with! Honestly, he’d be better off not even wearing one at all at this rate.

Smoky silver locks messily styled out of his face showcasing those bushy yet sculpted brows of his. One of your favorite past times has become watching Tae become more confident as he grows into himself. No longer finding the need to hide behind his long shaggy bangs, though you can’t; lie, you do kinda miss him looking like the puppy he truly is deep down. However this, version of Tae just hits different, your baby boy looks like a whole ass man and you’ll never get over it!

God the things you endlessly wanna do to him…..even after all these years....

You watch Tae sigh almost miserably over a mouthful of lobster mac which seems completely out of place considering the way the dish in question smells…“Honestly?”

Offering a curt nod, encouraging him to continue as you welcome yourself to his plate! The amount of cheese that’s trickling from your fork is actually disrespectful!

“It was cute, I liked how big the lot is, and more importantly how spaced out the spots are! You know how rich people get about people being too close to the damn cars!” Rolling his eyes as if he in he’s excluded from that category and you can’t help but scoff.

“Tae you technically are one of those people at this point. Just like...yesterday actually, you almost ripped Jackson’s balls off for bumping into your rearview mirror but carry on.” Flicking your fork in his direction, ignoring the sharp glare he sent your way in the process.

This time around I think both of his eyes managed to roll in different directions, again, Jimin’s wearing off on him! “Anyway, yeah, I don’t know, I liked the space, the exposed brick beams in the ceiling was cool. Kinda gave it a homey vibe which is fitting….”

You could hear it hanging off his tongue, he sounds very, “meh” about it, so you opt fil in the blank. “Butttt??”

“Butttt, I -It felt like...like I was forcing myself to like it…” Slouching down into his seat, features a little uneasy, as if him not liking the venue was a direct insult to the owner personally! You on the other hand you let out a bated breath that you weren’t even aware was being held, eyes wide shining with relief.

“Oh thank fuck” Hand slamming down absently along the table, “I thought it was just me, and I felt like such an ass too because-”

“They were so sweet” Came in unison, both of you almost cooing as you said it! Hands placed dramatically over your heart as you reclined against your chair.

“So sweet,” Tae parroted in a light pout,”I mean they were literally wearing matching loafers Y/n. Matching” Idly jading a fork into his side salad in a way that’s borderline concerning actually, a tad bit aggressive over there!

” But it just-I don’t know, I guess will always think like those broke college kids at heart” Flashing you a brief glowing smile that you can’t help but return, humming in agreeance.

“Which isn’t a bad thing, per say, the mentality definitely keeps us humbled! But there’s time and place for that attitude and honestly I just wasn’t feelin it! At least not in comparison to the others we’ve seen, it wasn’t fighting the vibe were going for. Regardless of how good the offer is” Shrugging over another mouth full of food and you there’s not much else for you to say because that was your consensus exactly.

Basically, once the two of you showed up, the cute little husband and wife duo offered you a deal which would essentially consist of them renting you the space for next to nothing. In exchange, they’d want you to post a couple of ads via your company and personal social media accounts as promo. Your initial thought outside of just thinking they were utterly adorable was how much money you’d save...but as Tae said, thankfully that’s not really a concern anymore, if you wanted you can get it!

Easily…discounts and barters aside, just a flick of the wrist and it’s yours!

“True, also can we just take a moment to talk about how aesthetically pleasing the Valentine was though?” Tossing your head back with a dramatic groan “I mean fuck you already know the way I feel about industrial spaces, the high, glass ceiling, all the greenery..” Eyes rolling to the back of your head with a slight moan…as you envision the space. Especially how moody and sexy the overall venue would look with thousands of lights cascading from the glass ceilings.

Clearly the venue was doing ....a lot for you right now!

Brow cocked at the blatant...enthusiasm surrounding the location in question “Mmm, well that’s something...interesting to add to the kink list, just when I thought I’d explored every avenue, but apparently not.” Voice low, teasing, head cocked to the side, a shit eating grin plastered along his lips, as he swirls his tongue along the tip of his straw in a way that’s……

“ I guess we’re adding “industrial spaces” to the list. Noted.” Smirking around his drink like the little shit he is!

Right, you may or may not have crossed your legs at the sudden drawl laced within his delivery but not before, kicking his shin with the tip of your heel, “You little shit” Rolling your eyes at the way he dramatically rubs the side of his leg, hitting you with straight puppy dog eyes as he pouts over at you as if you actually caused serious damage!.

Leaning forward a little so you don't have to try as hard to whisper, the notion has your breast essentially sitting on top of the table. Not that they weren’t already on full display in your dress or anything. Hand slipping beneath the table, landing on his kneecap. “What? Suddenly you don’t like a little pain?” Tone blatantly teasing whilst ghosting your nails agonizingly slow up his inner thigh, and his entire body goes rigid at the sensation. Tae’s always been extremely...

“God, your still so sensetive....” You weren’t intending for that to come out in the form of a moan but considering the one that fell from his lips in return...you ain’t mad about it! 100% dialed in to the way his eyes are fluttering, jaw tight, trying his damndest to play it cool, especially once the waitress makes eye contact silently asking if the two of you need anything. “Takes so little Hmm?”’

Flashing him a quick smile, waving her off for the time being, far too focused on another task to entertain anyone else right now! Only stopping your ministrations once your fingers land right beneath his balls.

“This place is very well lit, I like the hue, it’s casting a good soft-light, especially the way it’s bouncing off your complexion...” Eyes cascading against the ceiling, tone casual, until your eyes drop....

“You’d look so fuckin good, coming for me right now...” The words purr off your tongue, flashing him a cheeky little wink, and poor Taehyung chokes on his martini!

“You know how much you love being watched...I could have you making a mess all over yourself and no one would even know. ” Not even trying to hide the smirk playing on your lips when you can already feel the tension in the room rise. “My own little private show...” Eyes wicked as your fingers wander a little higher, gently pressing your palm down around his dick. Rubbing tauntingly, the touch isn't enough through the thick leather, however it does instantly make his length swell in the confines of his pants! We all know this….underwear is nonexistent in Tae’s world! “Kinda brings me back to our college days...” Teeth sinking into your bottom lip at the mere memory...you getting Tae off whilst in the lecture hall full of 300 plus students.

Regardless of the deer in headlights look flashing across his face his legs still spread apart, hips bucking forward because well as we just said...baby boy loves being watched. This however, prompts you to once again change positions, now digging your nails into the back of his thighs before letting the tips of your fingers tickle free. Coly bringing them back above surface to take another languid sip of your drink, tossing a strand of hair over your shoulder.

Ya know, I can’t say you’re surprised by his reaction, baby boy can dish it but sure can’t take it, neck and chest flushing to rival his shirt! Banging on his sternum in an attempt to reroute the liquor burning his lungs.

“Jesus-fuc-Y/n!” You have the nerve to hum inquisitively, only this time for his sanity he humors you! “Can you like not go from asulting me to-” Looking over his shoulder before dropping his voice down to a whisper “Stroking my dick, and offering to get me off under the table, all in the span of a nanosecond!?” The plea hissed through clenched teeth but the complaint was half hearted at most! Well aware his dicks already throbbing in his pants at the thought alone! “Fuck me” Sucking in a harsh breath, as he raked his fingers through his scalp.

“Well…” Tonguing at your inner cheek, eyes fluttering away as if you were in deep thought… “In my defense you kinda started it, bringing up my kink list like I don’t own a whole ass porn company!” Propping your chin on your palm, gaze locked and loaded “Like I wasn’t thinking about tainting that sweet innocent couple by letting them watch as I dropped to my knees, letting you fuc-”

“Y/n!” He actually attempts to sound almost applauded, like he doesn’t love how absolutely filthy your mouth is. However there’s a silent little “please” playing on his tongue, no matter how threatening he tried to sound.

You giggled, straight up giggled, reclining in your seat, amused, and somewhat satisfied so you let him be, for the time being anyway. Though you may have eaten your angel hair pasta in a very obscene manner, every now and then you’d sinfully suck the noodles through your overly glossed lips! However, if he dared to clock you on it you’d just simply note that it was your way of not messing up your makeup….

The two of you finish your lunch in comfortable silence, making small talk here and there, a mixture of work and bullshit until Tae’s phone goes off with a couple text notifications.

A low hum rattling in the back of his throat as he eyes the message from Hoseok. Subconsciously Tae reaches across the table, intertwining your fingers before bringing your knuckles up to his lips. Grazing them with his lips casually as he scrolls through his phone.

“Alright baby, so, I have a list ready, we have a couple brands that wanna work with us for the party. Seoks already narrowed it down to the ones that are actually worth discussing however-“

Honestly, it took both of you a minute to even realize what was going on, the skinship was second nature at this point. It wasn’t until his thumb grazed over your wedding band that the notion even resonated! Tae and yourself were a good two drinks in, feelin all warm and fuzzy and got caught up in the moment! Temporarily forgetting that you were in the middle of a restaurant in Downtown LA! Forgetting that the Kim currently caressing your knuckles and calling you baby is not the one you're technically married to! It may seem minor in retrospect, but you’ve always tried to stop yourselves from getting comfortable, with being comfortable in certain locations if that makes sense! You slip up one to many times and the next thing you know it happening in the office or on the red carpet!

Taehyung’s eyes grow almost comically wide, straight panic flashes over those big brown orbs of his and your heart sinks as you watch his head whip around, checking to make sure no one caught the interaction. It was almost painful how quickly he disconnected from you as his entire face dropped and no, just no!

“Hey...hey no it’s fine, it’s like 2 in the afternoon on a Tuesday! Not to mention we’re tucked in a booth in the corner ,we’re good, nobody heard or saw you…” Voice calm and quiet, trying to come off comforting, flashing him a weary smile. Reaching across the table to thumb at his palm, and it would be a lie to say you didn't also check over your shoulder before hand as well’

A dry almost bitter chuckle leaves his throat as he flinches away, tossing the fork down on his plate sliding it halfway across the table indicating he is more than done eating. Flicking the bridge of his nose with his index finger, jaw twitching, “Yeah, lucky me huh? I actually got to hold your hand for all of two seconds before we realized I’m techionally not allowed to do that unless were in fuckin I don’t know Alaska!”

He’s agitated, and with every right to be, even if he is being a little dramatic. Thankfully he’s keeping his voice low, but you can feel how tight his throat is, the amount of grit laced within his tenor has your eyes bugging out of there socket.

“Bab- “ It was a reflex, whenever he’s upset it’s just what falls from your lips, and he gives you a look, almost as if to say “How fucking dare you” ! The level of hurt the pet name just rendered within his eyes is-

Eyes sharp, brows furrowed “Noo, nooo, we literally just went through this. That’s not the way it works for us in this kinda setting” Flailing his arms around to reference the restaurant. “Wrong Kim” Well damn. “So it's Tae in public remember!?” Brow quirked accusingly, he’s abating this entire situation, almost like he wants you to snap, a second away from whisper yelling! “ Or maybe I should say Taehyung, hell just use my full government while your at it. Let’s make it real impersonal, Mr. Kim maybe?” Head cocked to the side as if he’s being genuine and not a total smartass right now.

You-he’s ...hurt, and you get that, hell you respect that, but Lunch at 71 Above is not the time or place for this conversation. You’re trying to approach this on a more rational level, however the condescending delivery is making it hard, and your only human. Eyes rolling to the back of your head before you can even catch yourself and that little gesture seems to be what officially set him off!

You can physically see the tension within his face... “I’m gonna go get some air, I might actually call a Uber or somethin,.” The words trailed off his lips low in mumbled but clear enough to be heard because that’s ultimately what he wanted to begin with.

There was something in his eyes you couldn’t read, a combination of anger/hurt mixed another emotion you can’t quite pinpoint! But whatever it is, you fuckin hated it! Throat running painfully dry as watch him slide his chair out and even though realistically you know at max he’s headed home...Still the gesture alone is gut wrenching because you know this runs deeper than just this situation!

“Tae” His name leaves your throat as more of a warning, reaching up to take an almost possessive grip on his wrist. Fingertips landing on the edge of his Cartier bracelet, the one you're both wearing actually, same arm and all!

A deep labored breath shutters from his chest at the contact, thighs feelin like a newborn fawn, gaze hesitantly meeting yours. “Tae, baby” Daring to use the endearment again regardless of your current surroundings “Sit back down so I can order us dessert and we can discuss whatever you want...just-please” The ending whisked off your tongue so faint your almost wondering if he even heard you!

Taehyung narrows his eyes, teeth clenched, tongue nudging his inner cheek! “I’m not really in the mood for cake right now Y/n. To be honest I just wanna leave” You know he’s aiming for dry but instead he lands somewhere around defeated , which makes it even worse. You’re both well aware this is not truly about cake, it’s about his constant need to run away from shit!

Sliding your fingers down his wrist, interlocking your fingers, giving them a firm squeeze. Eyes locked with his “Then you can get whatever you want, but I need you to just be here right now, I really, really need you to sit here, and just breathe through this with me.”

He’s know what your really asking is for him not to run away for once!

A faint little “Whatever” Leaves his lips and then he’s dead silent, silent as he slides his chair out, remaining as such for what feels like hours, and it has your heart beating painfully hard against your ribcage. It’s almost like he’s not even here, eyes fixated on some random painting on the opposite side of the restaurant, chewing at his inner cheek until....

“I’m sorry…” He admits after a baited breath, stroking your palm with his thumb gently, you can see him working over his thought’s in his head before speaking. ”I can’t - fuck I never know when I’m going to get all in my feels with shit like this, sometimes it just sucks harder than others I guess” The curt little shrug that leaves his shoulders let’s you know how uncomfortable he is, Tae’s overall persona suddenly seems mounds smaller in this moment. Anxiously stroking the back of his own neck “But....I shouldn't have come at you like that! That was fucked on my behalf and for that I’m truly am sorry ! This isn't all on you, or Joon we all-”Gazing over his shoulder before continuing “There’s just- there’s a lot, we have families and it’s just, I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that, ...”

Dropping his voice a little lower “I just fuckin love you” There’s a timid smile playing on his lips “and if the offer still stands I would really fuckin like chocolate cake…”

You actually snort, that’s your first instinct because only Tae, but the plus is it lightens the mood immensely! The sudden outburst triggers that full boxy grin to come into play and god your so damn enamored by this man it’s actually sad. Bringing his knuckles up to your mouth, grazing them past your lips like he did yours moments prior. “I love you too, and chocolate cake sounds fuckin amazing, and liquor, we need new drinks, actually we need an entire bottle! ” You laugh and then so does Tae, suddenly your holding hands and laughing together and everything else just seems so miniscule in the moment.

~~~~~

So, here’s the thing...being a CEO of one of the top Adult film entertainment companies is not on the same level as like..I don’t know….

Owning a high-end clothing company, or being a reality star or something. Your field is praised just as highly as it is tabooed, so with that being said, it’s not like your the top topic on E-news, or on Business Digest. You still have a strong sense of normality, point blank you’re not that important. It’s not as common for outsiders to know the high rollers within the porn industry the way it is in other fields!

However there's another avenue to factor in where the 7 of you are concerned, and that’s the world of social media, and that’s a completely different world entirely! One that’s heavily intertwined in your state in particular, living playing, and working in LA….I mean let’s get real, shit not normal here, by any means!

You’re a 26-year-old wealthy CEO, that goes to work in a Ferrari, cute little bodycons, Louboutin's, and Chanel bags! Your executive assistant is Tae for fucks sake, he looks like a model his damn self , on the surface your life is an aesthetically pleasing wet dream. An influencer without even trying for the title, if your 2.7 million followers are at all telling! So in the public eye, especially when out in Downtown LA..you try to be discreet.

Just last week Jimin was hanging all over you while walking through Saks and one of your mutual followers stopped to ask for a picture. Again this isn’t a daily occurrence, you’re not comparing yourself to Rhianna, but it’s why you do move with a slight air of caution when in your city! You literally live in a place where people become famous for running into walls, nevertheless owning their own business!

The world knows you’re married to Namjoon, and to be honest there’s numerous reasons the other aspect of your dynamic stays hidden! More than just the obvious….

However there’s been rumors circulating over the years, or at least now that Hollywood’s decided you hold some relevance! Ones pertaining your your sexuality, typically the tabloids assuming it, insulating your swingers, or that Namjoon’s bi. A Lot of these narratives circle back from your college days though, old classmates trying to slip tea to the media. Stories of when you could go to a party and it didn’t matter if you were sandwiched between Namjoon and Yoongi at the same damn time! Not to mention the dark side of social media where nothing ever truly dies, so yeah there are some questionable photos floating around. Luckily nothing recent enough to truly add fuel to the fire but you know deep down it’s only a matter of time!

One could argue it adds allure to the overall dynamic, especially considering your line of work, and maybe it wouldn’t matter if the boys were just casual thirds...but they’re not! They’re so much more than that and that’s what makes this hard, because well in laymen’s terms...people just fucking suck! So as heartbreaking as it is, where your other boys are concerned, in the public eye at least your “relationship” holds a strong air of mystery!

It’s the little things ya know? Like now for example, the fact that he could've easily gotten a foot job under the table but has to walk on eggshells about holding your hand at times! Shit just sucks sometimes, there’s no other way around it!

~~~~~~~

The two of you don’t really talk much until the dessert comes, more drinks and a bottle is in fact ordered as well! The silence felt a little more bearable this time around, busying yourselves on your phones. A very minor but significant change, is the fact that you still haven’t let go of his hand, even once the waitress returns. The simple notion has his entire dementor shifting! Fingers still tightly bound together and your chest flutters seeing the way he flushes almost bashfully at such minor PDA! Like the two of you didn’t hook up in the back of a club in London two months ago! Like you literally weren’t palming him under the table! Yet here he is blushing at openly holding your hand!

So fuckin cute!

Eventually two pieces of molten chocolate crepe cake gets brought over and holy fuck! Both moaning in unison as the pastry hits the table...

“Oh my goddd, we have to take a piece home for Jin, the like...convince him to learn how to make it!” You watch Tae’s eyes roll to the back of his head as he laces his lips around the fork! Groaning out in agreeance once the mixtures of pure sin hit his tongue.

“K...now back to , these sponsors...” Prompting over a mouth full of cake, not that you wouldn’t love to sit here and chill all day but you do have a 4pm conference call!

You watch as Tae glances down at your intertwined fingers, and his fork....realizing ones gotta go so he can pick up his phone and you physically coo back at him, melting into your set once he opts to drop the fork instead of your hand. Purposely avoiding your glance once he noticed the look on your face, nose scrunched and all!

“Right, so Uber reached out, more specifically Uber Luxxe, looking to send us 4 cars of our choice in exchange for a couple post. Spread out between IG, Twitter and Snap, I’m personally all for this one. The contract doesn’t seem excessive and I like that the post won’t feel forced! I mean realistically we were going to hire a driving service regardless! However something to also consider is our lack of filter when drinking! I mean...”Flailing his phone between the two of you as if to give an example, obviously referencing the little slip up moments prior. At least he can joke about it a little “So realistically, would we feel more comfortable with a private car service where there’s a contract involved as opposed to just some random?”

Tae just went full EA, out of nowhere and honestly ...

You blinked at him, almost dazed, fork halfway to his mouth because, what?! . “You sound so professional right now, it’s so fuckin hot.”

Tae choked on nothing but straight air before blushing profusely. “Baby-I mean-Y-“

You didn’t even flinch, continuing, unperturbed. “Nah, actually I think I’m in the mood to be baby right now!” Eying him wickedly “Your jaw just gets really tight, and your voice gets all low and raspy! It happens during meetings too, it’s really fuckin sexy! Reminds me of the way you sound when your lips are pressed into the side of my neck when we fuck.” It's just the casualness of it all, you sound like your ordering another appetizer and Tae’s about to choke on his dessert.

The grip he has on your hand is almost painful right now, “But don’t mind me, I’m just sitting here writing out my next script in my head, carry on. What rental service did you have in mind? Or did someone already reach out as well?”

It’s the way you just went from talking about Tae, being balls deep to sponsorships all in the span of a comma! In the words of your best friend you are pure chaos.....

Tae groans head hanging in defeat and your lips curl into a smirk, brow quirked in his direction.

“It’s the way I hate it here sometimes...” Snatching his hand away to jab his fork into the neglected pastry.

“Ah huh” You roll your eyes crossing your arms over your chest before leaning back. “Right, again let’s not act like you didin’t start this, both here and at the venue.” Leaning over the table again licking your lips “Don’t act like you weren’t eye fucking me the entire time, or the way you’d accidentally brush against me as we walked through the building. You’ve been practically begging for it all day.”

Tae just stares back at you, mind momentarily blank, stomach shifting into knots, letting the fork drop from those delicate fingers of his! Mouth opening and closing like a fish straight outta water...

“Did you think about it too? The acoustics in that place were fuckin insane, the way it would just echo through as you made me cum would just- fuck” You continued adding that lethal little purr back into your voice! “Or even better the way you’d sound, you don’t even know how bad I wanted to drop-“

“Y/n”

“Baby.” Phrasing the word borderline as a threat “Would you have liked that baby boy?” Cocking your head to the side, tongue teasing your bottom lip “Me on my knees for you looking up at you all pretty, letting you hold my hair and fuck my throat until you came straight into my mouth?”

Speaking of mouths' your just straight fuckin-mayhem ...and it’s making Taehyung’s brain feel like it’s melting through his ears! But god should we be surprised though?

It’s never taken much with you....

You’ve always been just what he needs and a little bit more than he can take all in one! You haven’t even touched him yet and he feels a moan creeping up his throat! Especially as he watches you swirl the tip of your tongue over the whipped cream on the edge of your fork, sucking it between your overly glossed lips in the most obscene manner.

Eyes locked and loaded, a second away from drooling, “Fuck, yeah,” He stutters breath hitching on his lungs, heat coursing through his skin. Tae’s veins literally feel like they’re on fire, subtly trying to shift in his seat to readjust himself! Glancing subconsciously out of his peripheral, the restaurant still chill and half empty. The waitress on the opposite end of the room attending to another couple!

“You always look so damn good with my cock down your throat, and my cum on your tounge. God, especially when I wrap my hand around your throat and I can feel you swallowing down around my-” Your tongue’s swirling all over this damn fork, and he can feel every flick your tongue against his dick, and it’s just...fuck! Not to mention once you accidently spilled some whipped cream on your lips, which you took your time licking off as well. “Jesus-Fuck, Y/n!!” Taehyung’s voice is dripping with arousal, and you already know he’s leaking all over the place.

“Yeah?” Humming around the form before setting it to the side “ You like the way I look when I’m chocking on your cock?” These questions are all rhetorical, your an ass “Or how about when I get a little messy because I can’t fit it all in my mouth?” Your eyes darken, words coming out over low gasps of air, almost as if your just as aroused as he is and that’s because you are!

“Your always such a good boy for me, so helpful too holding my hair back, guiding my mouth until you hit the back of my throat...holding me in place until I gag. You know how much I love when you get rough with me ..” Tae feels the sole of your red buttons tease up his thigh, shifting between his legs. The transition was so damn smooth it catches him off guard, instinctively wanting to push away but instead...

“You’d be loud for me too wouldn’t you? Show them how good you look falling apart for me, how good you look when you come down my throat....The way your eyes roll-”

“Holy-fuck Baby” Aggressively running his palms over his face until it’s matching his shirt “Please don’t do this to me right, now, if your gonna give it to me then fuckin let me have it but I cant-.”

You can’t help but smile back at him, so fond it almost seems out of place in the moment. “I’ll give you whatever you want Tae...you know this. You just gotta promise you’ll be good for me, we can’t draw-”

“I’m always good” He damn near growled at you, eyes daring you to say otherwise and well, who were you to deny Tae of what he wants!?Gently pressing your foot at the base of his cock, a satisfied smirk playing on your lips upon feeling that your boys already fully hard.

It’s the way the two of you are just casually in one of LA’s boujeiest restaurants and your deadass about to give him a foot job in Louboutin’s! Yup, your life had turned into a porno, you’ve officially made it!

“Kay, so back to that list of sponsors, first off I completely agree, as much as I love our contact at Uber I’d prefer an actual car service for something like that.” Here you go again the queen of the switch up, you’re back to discussing work yet there’s still a slight moan in your tenor. Breathy and light and Tae feels like all the airs being sucked from his lungs.

Tae shifts, spreading his thighs even further, shuddering out a bated breath as you point your toe, dragging it up and down! It’s a peep-toe so that alone allows you a little more flexibility! Pressure intentionally light so it’s just enough to have him on the brink of begging! But instead of doing so, he picks up his phone, hands shaky and all and continue doing his job as requested!

“Right..” Clearing his throat not sure why he currently sounds like he’s going through puberty again but K... “I’ll let Hobi know, maybe we can do something we’re we use them while planning this party or something! Since you vetoed a party planner will have a lot more running around to do! Realistically outside of Joon and Jin we all have coupes anyway...so it’s not like we can carry much!”

Mmm, always the innovator, even when all the blood and airs being rushed to his dick! You feel him try and slide forward, chasing after the stimulation.

“Ohhh, I really like that, and like you said it still feels somewhat organic because realistically our cars aren’t efficient for something like that” You press down harder against his cock almost as a reward “Good boy, what’s next?” Nodding towards his phone and it takes every ounce of self control he had to swallow down the moan laying on his tongue.

Eyes struggling to stay ajar as you continuously rub your foot up and down his length. Now applying more prominent pressure with the ball of your feet! Movement stealth from the waist up so you don’t draw attraction to yourself.

“Tae Tae” The nickname falls from your lips singsong like, and far too innocent for the demon seed you are. “Next?”

He doesn't even know what to really do except follow instructions, so he just nods, scrolling through his phone. “There was also a couple brands wanted to oh fuck-“ Gasping as you pick up your pace, damn near dropping his phone into the plate beneath him.

Face splitting into an amused grin, a hint of something wicked playing on your lips. Eyes gleaming with mischief, you watch those long, delicate fingers flex, clearly struggling this time around to bite back the moan like he needs to! Hands shaking as your continue working him at a merciless pace. Rubbing faster, harder, utilizing the rounded point on the head of your heel to press right against what your assuming is Tae’s tip by the way he shudders. Thighs shaking as he grips the edge of the table for dear life!

“Oh my godddd” Tae manages to just mouth the words as opposed to screaming them the way he desperately wants too. Tugging on his own scalp, trying to just do something to get himself busy!

“You fuckin love this....” It’s not even a question, more of a consensus!

Your eyes haven’t left his once, watching intently as you swirl your tongue around the straw before taking a sip. Moaning around it because well ya know, the drinks just that damn good apparently.

God his skin feels like it’s on fire, every stroke of your foot has him feeling like he’s coming undone!

He’s trying to focus, on his surroundings, this damn list everything but he can’t he just fucking can’t! Thankfully it’s you, and he trust you with everything he has, so his subconscious is somewhat at ease with all of this because he knows you got him!

“Yeah,fuck yeah you already know you can do anything to me” He states plainly, the most stable his voice has sounded in god knows when “Whatever you want” Gaze heavy through hooded lashes, looking straight at you with steady sinful eyes.

“Mmm, and always want it don’t you baby? Always...:”

He bites back a moan nodding, and then his phone rings, of course his phone fucking rings and it’s coming from the office because why the fuck not?!

“Answer” The command was simple, clearly no room for debate and hs eyes go wide,

“Baby” Complaining with a hint of a whine in his voice and when you don’t seem to give a damn....

“Yeah?”Jaw tight, nostrils flared as he picks up the phone. Adrenaline flies through his veins, pressure building in his gut as you relentlessly keep your pace intact! Pressing harder and deeper into all the right places until he’s coughing around Moans to try and cover it up!

Dropping his head slightly, propping it on his elbow as he squeezes the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “ Welp, That's where it would be so if you don’t see any were out, email me a list and I’ll make a Amazon-“

Taehyung’s chest heaves painfully tight, breathing becoming more erratic with every stroke and yes clearly there’s a strong voyeurism kink within this man! So as crazy as it may sound , the combination of the restaurant, and this phone call ?!

Yeah, he’s not gonna last!

Slouching down completely against the back of the booth, thighs spreading to full capacity. Fingers tangled in his Smokey locks holding his bangs out of his face. Eyes shut , jaw tight, neck slightly reclined, though to the naked eye he’d just appear to be on a very unpleasant phone call! When in all actually he’s finally just letting himself fall apart beneath your touch!

Eyes fluttering open just enough to glance down at you in a way that had you feeling like you could come right with him. Your gaze is Just as heavy as his, lips darting out to wet your lips though your throats suddenly what’s running dry!

Tae’s lips part slightly, though he’s falling apart he’s giving it right back to you. Hitting you with those sinfully needy fuck me eyes! The same ones you see when your riding and edging him until he’s coming tenfold! His breathing comes stagnate every time your foot moves and Tae finds himself gnawing down on his bottom lip to stifle the moans sliding up his chest! You can tell who's on the other end now, it’s the new secretary Alanna, and she legitimately is still getting her footing! Which is the only reason Tae is even entertaining the call, well one of the reasons!

You notice Tae’s breathing is starting to even out a little almost as if he’s gained some of his self control back and we don’t support that in this household. So you proceed to dig your foot right into the head of his cock and he straight wheezes! Body jerking off the wall and all ...

“No, I’m, fuck-“ There’s a moan that finally falls freely off his tongue that only barley seems acceptable because he in fact just choked! Voice coming out what feels like a octave lower and huskier , poor Alanna! “Yeah i'm good sorry , food just went down the wrong pipe.” He can barely think straight but he knows he needs to close this up “Hey look will be back within the hour and will sort it out then alright?”

I don’t even think he even waited for her to respond before hanging up and literally throwing his phone across the table! Gucci case and all.

“Everything okay? ?” Voice low and teasing, he knows you're technically asking about the office but your timing sucks ass!

“Fuck you” Falls off his lips in a barley audible moan, so consumed as his orgasm builds in the pit of his stomach! Eyes still struggling to stay open mouth, mouth falling slack, if your were in your right mind you’d tell him to pull it together alittle! Now that he’s off the phone, he either looks like he’s getting a foot job, or like he’s high on meth! Neither are appealing to the GP! God, he must look utterly ridiculous right now, thankfully he’s shifted against the booth so he’s facing a wall as opposed to other guest!

“Mm, my pretty baby’s close yeah?” Watching how heavily his throat bobs as he swallows, Tae’s leaking precum all over the damn place, so, close hips gently rocking into your foot as discreetly as possible, growing more desperate by the second. Fuck he needs to come, he needs to!

“Yeah baby please don’t- fuck” God he sounds so good, so needy and pliant and fuck!

“I got you...” At that you actually kick your shoe off, moving back to press down even harder, rubbing and rubbing forcing Tae to attempt to grab his drink in attempts to muzzle himself. However his hands are shaking too hard and he almost knocks it over!

“God baby I’m-“

“Be a good boy for me”

And he is, coming with a shuddering breath, under the steady pressure of your foot as his release tears through his veins. Dropping his to the table as subtly as possible(Hell maybe people will think he’s tipsy or not feeling well), thighs shaking, chest heaving painfully hard. He’s not completely silently but he does a lot better than expected, a low groan manages to slip past his lips.

“Good boy” The praise rolls off your tongue and goes straight to his dick, as if he needed anymore stimulation there. Another faint whimper falls off his lips until he’s drooling all over the table. Not even realizing initially, that his hips were still grinding into you until he’s hissing from oversensitivity! The force of his orgasm has Taehyung drawing straight blanks, hearing nothing but white nose rustling in the background!

Also, I don’t know what that says about Tae as a person but he’s not even remotely humiliated! The only thing that he’s about to regret once his mind's less foggy is how absolutely drenched his YSL leather pants are!

So busy trying to get his breathing back in check as he comes down from his high, he completely missed the way you’d signaled to the server. Calmly asking for her to add 8 more slices of cake to go, and bring the bill over!

His face is flushed, his pants feel gross as hell but above everything else he feels so damn good! Reaching down to still your foot, gently massaging the top as his eyes finally flutter open! Vision still a little hazy as he looks back at you with a dazed smile, and your gazing back at him with so much fondness that the first thing that slurs off his lips in a whisper is....

“I fuckin love you!”

Flashing him a wink in return as you make eye contact with your servers whose letting you know she’ll be over in a moment. Keeping your foot stationary for a moment, enjoying the well deserved foot massage. Occasionally flexing your toes to “accidentally brush against his dick. Giggling around your drink every time he'd hiss and jerk away!

This entire lunch situation was a damn mess, and high key reckless but, the blissed out smile written all over his face is more than worth it. Where just ugh...not gonna tell the boys about this!

“Love you too Tae”

~~~~~~~~~

Everything from that moment on kind of feels like a blur honestly, up until the two of you sliding into your car and before you can even get yourself settled he’s on you! Yanking you out of your seat and into his lap before you can even put your seatbelt on which obviously is not ideal this is a sports car after all but you don’t dare complain! Taehyung’s far from shy with his wants, griping the back of your neck, sliding his fingers through your hair as he presses your lips together! He doesn’t try to ease you into it either It’s hard, hungry, desperate and overtly needy! Forcing both of you to huff out a staggered breath through your nose to even keep up! You breathe him in, and he breathes you out, it’s all open mouthed, and heady, an obscene amount of moans rolling off your tongues. Reclining your jaw, giving him free reign to explore your mouth. Tongue rolling against your slick and languid with years of finesse between the two of you. No matter how hard he’s kissing you it still doesn’t feel rushed, its deep, borderline sensual actually!

Tae pulls back just enough to nip at your bottom lip, dragging his across your jaw and down the side of your neck! Licking sucking and biting, along your skin, moaning at the way you arch and grind your hips into every touch! The two of you carry on like that until there’s suddenly something thumbing in the back of your throat!

“Hey..” There's a slight sternness within your voice that has him instantly trying to snap out of his postcoital haze. Stroking the hinge of his jaw “You know, how much I love you right? And if, we need to all sit down a re-”

Cutting you off with the smooth glide of his lips pulling you into a kiss that’s a slower, less needy, there’s no ulterior motive, Tae just wants to feel you “Nah, I don't wanna change anything sometimes- I just want-”

“I know...” Because you do, pressing your forehead to his, not even kissing just letting your breaths melt as one. Massaging his scalp gently, he already looks like he’s a second away from passing out! Pondering if maybe the two of you should switch places...

“Promise you’ll let me take care of you later” Tae nuzzles against the side of your face like a puppy wanting his ears scratched! Believe it or not he wasn’t always such a selfless lover, not until he found you guys! Now it’s almost like his orgasms feel incomplete if he’s the only one coming once it’s all said and done!

“You can do whatever you want to me Tae, you know this.” Placing a couple lingering kisses on those pouty lips of his before hesitantly shuffling into the passengers seat. Transfixed on the way he slips back into his lane, fixing his hair, pulling out his oversized cat eye frames to rest on the bridge of his nose. One hand on the wheel the other finding there home on your thigh. Noting the slight discomfort as he shifts in his seat, no doubt due to the fact that well, he just came in his pants.

“How about..” Leaning over to place a open mouth kiss right beneath is ear, digging your nails into his thigh until he moans. “ I clean you up a little on the drive, and we pit stop at mine, and we drop you off first so you can shower and chill. Then me and Joon will come back and crawl into bed with you after were done for the day..”

“Am I being given the rest of the day off Mrs. Kim?” You can already hear the smirk in his voice without even looking...

“Yes Mr. Kim that would be correct....” Already working the zipper before he can even respond because you already know how this is about to pan out...

___________________

Hi my babies, first off IDK where this came from, I also wouldn’t consider it my best, but it was the first thing I’ve written in like 6 months which felt good. This was supposed to be up back in December I had a couple holiday prompts for the series that I never got around to completing ! But If you enjoyed show this some love and come talk to me!

Love always,

Rocki

#taehyung #taehyung smut #taehyung x reader #kim taehung #kim taehyung smut #bts #bts smut #bts x reader #kim taehyung x reader #kpop #kpop smut

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possiblyimbiassed · 4 years

Text

John’s “therapeutic” blog

I’ve been fascinated by the wealth of content in John Watson’s blog since I first noticed it; I think it was some time after S2. For being a complementary work to a TV show, it’s surprisingly well crafted and packed with information. Joe Lidster, who has written the fictional blogs and websites of John, Sherlock, Molly and Connie Prince, is a screenwriter who has been working also with Doctor Who and its spinoff Torchwood.

Unlike the rest of the content within the BBC Sherlock franchise, for example the online game ”Sherlock the Network”, the escape room “The Game is Now” or the book “Sherlock Chronicles”, John’s blog is fully available online for free, you don’t even have to register anywhere. And unlike the other blogs of the franchise (Molly’s and Connie Prince’s blogs and Sherlock’s website), John’s blog is lengthy and has a lot of posts in it. It gives us background and explanations of cases that aren’t mentioned in the show, or only referred to, and I also think it provides a “second opinion” of what we see in the show. It’s a bit like what John says in TLD:

It certainly seems like this blog has been created as a special little treat for the fans, since most of the casual viewers of the show probably don’t even know it exists ‘IRL’. But I think the blog is much more than that; partly because it’s so heavily referenced in the show – with frequent, accurate and exact pictures of it (at least until S4) – and partly because it tells us so much about John’s character. I think John’s blog is significant and important in trying to analyse BBC Sherlock. And maybe the version of John we see in the show will actually get more nuances to it if we look at the blog, which is expressly written by John himself?

More under the cut.

As some of you might know, I’ve written a meta series (X) where I try to explore the idea (originally from @raggedyblue) that the blog describes the ‘real’ events in John’s and Sherlock’s life more accurately than the show, and that what we see in the show up until HLV is Sherlock reminiscing their life together while reading up on the blog. In my view, the show might be Sherlock’s embellished and dramatized version of the events - ironically a bit similar to what Sherlock usually accuses John of doing in both Doyle’s canon and on the blog. But I find the blog’s writing style far more prosaic than the show, and also more prosaic than Watson’s stories in ACD canon; in BBC Sherlock the roles might have been inverted compared to canon.

An example of this would be the scene in TEH (which I talked about in this meta over a year ago) where Mary is (supposedly) reading the following un-published post directly from John’s blog editor:

“His movements were so silent. So furtive, he reminded me of a trained bloodhound picking out a scent. I couldn’t help thinking what an amazing criminal he’d make if he turned his talents against the law.”

Something doesn’t seem quite right here, though. While the rest of the post is text from another, already published, post (The Speckled Blond), this first part is taken almost verbatim from ACD’s story The Sign of Four (SIGN). It describes a crime scene where Holmes has just “whipped out his lens and a tape measure and hurried about the room on his knees, measuring, comparing, examining, with his long thin nose only a few inches from the planks and his beady eyes gleaming and deep-set like those of a bird”. I see a big style difference between this and the rest of John’s blog. Since the quote above never appears on the ‘IRL’ blog, I’d rather believe that in BBC Sherlock this is merely wishful thinking from Sherlock that happens inside his Drama Queen Mind Palace. This impressive description is, I think, what he would truly wish that John had written. ;)

I also suspect that the continuing references to different blog posts in S4 are all made up in Sherlock’s mind, since John’s blog ‘IRL’ stopped updating after TSoT, when Sherlock hacked it and took over the storytelling.

Be that as it may, this meta is a reflection upon what John Watson’s famous blog actually might stand for, and what I believe it tells us about his character. In these months of quarantine, I’ve been passing the time by reading through the whole online version of the blog and taking notes of it.

Therapeutic origin

It seems like the initiative for John to start a blog came from Ella Thompson, his therapist. I believe Ella’s initial idea was therapeutic; if it was almost impossible for John to talk to her about his feelings and inner problems in their sessions, she might have found it difficult to help him. Therefore she suggested that he write it all down on his own instead. And if Ella could persuade him to talk about his life on an online blog, she would also be able to read it.

Of course this wouldn’t be the same as if John told her about his inner reflections in confidence, in a real therapy session, but maybe the blog would give him an incentive to talk about his life at all. And you have to start somewhere.

At the end of TST we see Sherlock visit Ella, but when she asks him to “open up completely” he refuses.

If S4 is happening inside Sherlock’s head (as I believe it is), this might have been Sherlock’s way of trying to psychoanalyse John, to ‘solve John’s case’, by envisioning the therapy situation in his mind palace. A well-known method of Sherlock Holmes is that he tries to put himself in the other person’s place and think about what his own response would have been to the situation. In ACD’s story The Musgrave Ritual (MUSG), Holmes says: “You know my methods in such cases, Watson. I put myself in the man’s place, and, having first gauged his intelligence, I try to imagine how I should myself have proceeded under the same circumstances.”

Which is also evidence that the character of Sherlock Holmes does indeed not lack empathetic capacity. Also in the show, John’s assertion that Sherlock “doesn’t feel things that way” etc. is basically BS in my opinion. The problem is that John refuses to see this.

John’s state of mind before Sherlock

John’s first three blog posts (in the middle of December - January) seem to completely lack motivation.

And this is maybe what one could expect from the deeply depressed John (as he appears in the beginning of the show), isn’t it? No surprises there.

Everything seems meaningless, and John only makes two attempts at blog posts to comply with Ella’s recommendations, but he doesn’t actually write anything in them. After the second attempt his old army friend Bill Murray tries to contact him, but John seems to have cut off his ties with the rest of the world; he doesn’t answer the comment.

At the third attempt over a month later, John seems to want to delete the blog he has started, but lacks the technical knowledge to do so. The fourth attempt is just a snide comment to Ella:

She doesn’t respond, however (not very surprisingly perhaps). Instead, John’s sister Harry discovers the blog and tries out this means of communicating with him. But John ignores her.

But at the fifth attempt at least John has gone out with some friends and describes it – almost bitterly. Sadly, it also seems like John met up with them mainly to avoid his therapy session with Ella.

So, the problem is that whatever Ella may have thought that the blog would mean for John’s healing, I think she aimed well but unfortunately missed the target. John Watson does not ‘open up’ himself on the blog. When he finally starts to really write - after he met Sherlock - it’s not actually about him (supposedly); it’s all about Sherlock. Basically, John goes directly from ‘Nothing happens to me‘ to ‘Sherlock happens to me‘.

What the blog tells us about John ‘after Sherlock’

John’s blog may be all about Sherlock, but there isn’t actually that much praise for Sherlock in the blog posts as one might think. My impression is that John applies his (perhaps somewhat overestimated) writing skills to project his own failures and self-loathing on his closest friend. More than anything else, I think the blog is John’s emotional outlet for his frustration over his unsatisfactory relationship with Sherlock and his own inability to improve it. Instead of trying to actually talk to Sherlock, he uses the blog to vent his frustrations over Sherlock, speculating wildly about what he believes Sherlock is thinking and feeling.

The stories and adventures are thrilling and entertaining, yes. But his assessments of Sherlock’s character are really not very uplifting. John doesn’t strike me as an ‘analytic’ person, which in this case means that John’s theories about Sherlock are rather based on his personal emotions than logical conclusions. It’s sometimes even a bit difficult to follow the chain of events in John’s posts, because it’s usually so intertwined with his gossipy and out-of-context comments about Sherlock’s personality.

Unfortunately, Sherlock doesn’t seem to realise this projection, and neither do we see him address the issue of John’s misconceptions about him. I believe Sherlock takes many of John’s jibes and insults at him at face value, which – sadly - only adds on to his own self-loathing. I also think that Sherlock trying to draw conclusions about his mysterious friend through the written blog might be a mistake; it may eventually tell him a lot about John’s problems, but to see these he needs to look behind all the cover-up of blatant criticism of him, Sherlock. Maybe that’s what Sherlock’s trying to do in S4, by setting up scenarios in his mind palace?

Judging by how John comes across on the blog – and in the show – I think Sherlock’s claim “You’re abnormally drawn to dangerous people and places” in HLV is a perfectly sound analysis - on the surface. However, I think one must read between the blog lines in order to see other possible motives for John wanting to hang out with Sherlock. Reading John’s posts textually, he gives a strong impression that he’s there for the adventures; when there is danger in the air, John’s never bored.

In the comment section Sherlock never mentions John’s evaluation of his character. Instead he repeatedly criticises John’s writing style. I get the impression that this is Sherlock’s subtle way of getting back at John without having to directly address John’s misconceptions about him. As I said above, I think John’s writing style is very different from Watson’s style in canon; far less respect for Sherlock and a far more prosaic and simple language. Canons Watson seems careful not to speculate much, while John does this all the time.

Examples that form a pattern

There’s a good deal of praise of Sherlock in John’s posts, but it has almost exclusively to do with his admiration for Sherlock’s intellectual capacity; he’s repeatedly described as ‘clever’ and after the Fall, John claims that “nobody ever really outwitted Sherlock”. But in fact, I’ve found very few blog posts where John doesn’t also criticise or complain about Sherlock in some way or another. And there are only two posts (out of a total of 45) where John says something positive about Sherlock’s character:

1. After their first meeting he calls Sherlock “strangely likeable” and “charming”.

2. In what John meant to be his last post ever (he believed Sherlock was dead), he calls Sherlock “funny”, “charming” and “everything a good person should be”.

On the other hand, there seems to be nothing in John’s own (supposed) opinions about Sherlock that he regards as too negative or inappropriate to publish online. I very much think this is about self-loathing; he projects his own shortcomings on his “psychopath” friend and flatmate. Like it’s always a relief to have a scapegoat. An additional explanation might be that if John is closeted and in public denial about any romantic feelings for Sherlock, this makes him not want to appear too ‘besotted’ on the blog. ;) Thus, he might believe he needs to compensate the praise with criticism. Problem is, with this contradictory approach the readers might ask: What is John’s actual relationship to Sherlock? Handler? Hostage? Lover? Concerned citizen? It’s hard to claim he’s a ‘real’, professional colleague, since John’s actual profession is a medical doctor. But why would John be friends with a psychopath?

To seriously claim that his best friend is a psychopath seems perfectly OK to John, though – he does it repeatedly, and quotes Donovan’s claim that Sherlock “gets off on it”. At the end of A Study in Pink, John talks about Sherlock and the serial killer as if they were both psychopaths, one undistinguishable from the other:

“The taxi driver drove him to a college of further education so they could both educate each other on - well, on how their minds worked, I guess. It's not something I'll ever really understand and, to be honest, I'm not sure I ever want to understand it. To be that much of a psychopath. To be that above the rest of us.”

John even seems to pretend to prefer ignorance to understanding, only to find one more opportunity to blame Sherlock. Here are some examples of other things John calls Sherlock publicly on the Internet:

Arrogant

Rude

Imperious

Pompous

Madman

Freak

Childish and

Not safe.

He also says on the blog that Sherlock is spectacularly ignorant about some things, like the solar system.

Little Freudian slips

In the post titled The Speckled Blonde

(which is basically a re-count of canon’s The Speckled Band - SPEC) John’s closet angst reaches new heights:

Apparently John finds it important to preventively point out to his readers that he was not sharing a bed with Sherlock. Or, actually, that he even preferred sleeping on the floor before sharing a bed with his flatmate. The thing is, however, that the information that they spent the night in Julias bedroom isn’t at all necessary for the story, since - unlike in ACD Canon - nothing of importance apparently happened during that night. John actually tells us nothing about the night as such. The only ‘feature of interest’ is that Sherlock found a suspect bottle of bubble bath on the victim’s night table, which he took to Barts for analysis (and he was right - the bath had killed Julia by poisoning). Obviously, John could have described this crime scene investigation entirely without mentioning that they had spent the night there. So, if this little morsel of information was so embarrassing for him, why did he even include it? Hmm...

In my biased mind, I can only think of two alternative explanations (not mutually exclusive, though): 1. John had spent so much fantasies and subconscious energy on reliving this night that he just couldn’t keep this info entirely to himself (Freudian slip), or 2. Something actually happened that night - something that had no bearing on the case. After all, John never says that he slept on the floor, only that he was going to sleep on it. ;)

Speaking of bubble bath, I find the fact that Julia died from it slightly suggestive, and even metaphorical, as such. Because there’s also another case on John’s blog describing someone dying in a bath: The Deadly Tealights. The victim suffocated in a bathroom where the candles consumed all the oxygen. John has included this little comment:

Why does John bring up the idea that a person taking a bath with candles would potentially be judged? What has his own bath routines to do with the crime case? Does the victim really need John to find excuses for his private life? Methinks this rather might be John’s closet angst speaking again. Someone has tried to belittle John for liking baths, and apparently John seizes the opportunity to vent about it on the blog. Metaphorically, this tells me that the closet is suffocating for John, and that the ‘chemistry of love’ is involved.

John - The Moral Compass

John is often referred to as the part of the duo who a) is more sociable and b) works like a sort of moral guide to Sherlock. The detective, on the other hand, is shown as a “sociopath” who supposedly doesn’t understand this kind of things. And – to be honest – Sherlock doesn’t actively say much to contradict this perception; sometimes he even appears to agree with it.

(I think his actions should be a clue to the contrary, though).

According to the blog, John seems to believe he himself is the adult one in this acquaintance, the one who does understand the rules of society. He repeatedly calls Sherlock “childish”. Judging by John’s descriptions in the blog, one might almost think that John had been forced to hang out with Sherlock, trying to do the best of it. But seeing as it’s entirely voluntarily it’s a bit hard to understand, for example, how John can blame Sherlock for “leaving me and Sarah to be kidnapped” in The Blind Banker:

John makes is sound like Sherlock left them to the enemy deliberately, knowing that someone would come after them. But weren’t they at home, supposedly on a date? If John didn’t like it, couldn’t he have left any moment and gone out to continue the date he was supposed to? But no; John counts himself among the innocent persons whom Sherlock “involves in his adventures”:

After reading the whole of John’s blog, all I can say is that this guy is a living, breathing contradiction. How can he be Sherlock’s moral compass if his needle is spinning all the time? :))

In The Great Game John describes himself as just a “pawn” in Sherlock’s and the killer’s great game, equalling himself with the other victims. With his insinuations, he indirectly blames Sherlock for the death of 12 people and goes back to Sally Donovan’s “freak” accusations:

Another interesting bit is this, describing Sherlock’s reaction at the pool, when John for a moment appeared to be behind everything: “I should have been horrified that he'd even doubt me for a second…” Wait – what!? John is capable of telling the whole world the most damning rubbish about his friend, but if Sherlock for any second doubted John, he’d be horrified? This part is also of interest: “But the laser sight simply moved to Sherlock's head and I was forced to let go. For a second, I wondered if Sherlock would have done the same for me but then all I knew for certain was, at that moment, I knew I was going to die.”

Before that, John had just described what could easily be interpreted as Sherlock calmly trying to talk Moriarty out of having John killed, but to John this was just “The two men talked, both clearly pleased to…”. In John’s view, he was the only one who was forced to let go of the killer because of the threat to Sherlock. Honestly, who is it, between the two of them, that most appears to lack empathetic capacity?

Creds and Competence

John appears to be a rather honest, humble and straightforward in the show, quite competent in his medical profession, and in TSoT he is highly praised by Sherlock:

But on the blog John is more ambiguous, and he isn’t always modest. Sometimes he appears to enhance his own role in the crime solving and take credit also for things that are clearly Sherlock’s doing. For example, in The Great Game there’s this:

“Between us, we worked out that while Connie's death had been made to look like the result of a tetanus infection, it had actually been caused by poison - their houseboy, â–“â–“â–“â–“â–“, had overdosed her on Botox!”

But if we’re supposed to believe the show, John actually believed it was a tetanus infection, while Sherlock deduced and later demonstrated poison:

John also expresses a slightly childish vindictiveness in making a lot of fuss about Sherlock’s failures; every single time Sherlock can’t solve a case, John points it out on the blog with glee. It almost gives me the impression that the doctor is suffering from inferiority complex. He even uses “Sherlock Holmes Baffled“ as a title for one of their cases.

This seems to be written in jest, since Sherlock frequently is rude about other people’s lower intellectual capacity, but actually hates ‘not knowing’.

I admit that this may be funny to joke about once, but it gets a little tiresome that John has to point it out every time. Why does John even do this, even as Sherlock has explicitly asked him to not publish the unsolved cases? Which I assume would not be good for their business?

If John truly is Sherlock’s colleague, wouldn’t he also be more interested in helping to solve the cases, rather than talk about the failures? It seems to me that John is struggling so hard against his own feelings for Sherlock that he feels the need to provoke rather than help him.

The Most Inhuman Human

Sherlock’s supposed lack of humanity is a recurring theme for John; he claims that “people” want to know that Sherlock is human, as if anyone - on the blog or in the show - except John had ever questioned this.

I can’t remember anyone on the blog except John showing an interest in this issue, though. In the post Many Happy Returns he writes this (my bolding):

“Yet the video... it showed the other side to him. He was rude, yeah. Arrogant. Apparently lacking in anything resembling empathy. But I'd forgotten just how funny he could be. He was so charming. So... human. It's bizarre because most people would say he was the most inhuman person they'd ever met. But he wasn't.”

He wasn’t? Wow - great revelation, John! [sarcasm :)]. But who said that, actually? Not even the haters and trolls on John’s blog ever claimed Sherlock was inhuman. It’s one thing that Donovan and Anderson called him a freak and a psychopath, but John is the only character I can think of who has ever implied that Sherlock would not be a human being. Only John calls him a ‘machine’. Which is a load of BS of course; John really doesn’t strike me as a professional doctor when he says this, even less as a friend - always trying to mark the distance.

So what’s Sherlock’s ‘complete lack of empathy’ in that video actually about (mini-episode here)? Was it because he didn’t want to go to a birthday dinner with people? Hardly - John seems to understand this about Sherlock. Or was it maybe because of his comment: “How can John be having a birthday dinner? All his friends hate him!” Well, this probably hurt a bit (even if I rather think he sounds bitter and jealous - he wants John for himself ;) ). On the other hand, Sherlock then backtracks and seems to regret his little outburst:

Mary’s role in John’s life

The blog is where Mary Morstan appears to be introduced to John; on John’s first blog post about at least a year after Sherlock’s ‘death’, she suddenly just shows up in the comment section, sending him kisses and inviting him out:

John ignores her, though, and when his sister asks him who Mary is, he doesn’t answer. Mary seems to hang in there, however, and the next time she appears is on the Deadly Tealights post (the one with the dead flatmate in the suffocating closet bathroom). And now she’s called Mary Morstan. Next time is The Inexplicable Matchbox. Both times her only comment is ‘ignore the trolls’. John rather seems to ignore her, though. Finally, he finishes his Many Happy Returns post (which was supposed to be his last) with saying that he has now “found someone” (without naming them) and should concentrate on that.

All this is a little bit weird, though, considering Mary’s comment in TEH, when she is logged in and reading aloud from the editor of John’s blog: “The famous blog, finally!” As if she hadn’t already read all his posts and tried to interact with him on the blog? Hmm.

In the show Mary just seems to come from out of nowhere, suddenly showing up in the graveyard holding hands with John.

Her anonymity reminds me of Doyle’s treatment of Mary in canon, where she’s only mentioned by name when she’s still a client, before she marries Watson.

On the blog Mary is not mentioned by name until over a year after John met her, in spite of her presence in the comment section long before that. And it’s not until John’s first post after Sherlock’s return - The Empty Hearse - that John says something appreciative of her. Suddenly she is (still without name) "...the best thing that's ever happened to me. Sorry, Sherlock :)”. For the rest of the blog posts, John’s (very scarce) answers to Mary’s comments are never flirty or appreciative in the least. Mary’s own last comment, on the very last post - this time written by Sherlock who hacked the blog after John’s and Mary’s wedding - is this: “SHERLOCK! SHUT UP NOW!”

None of this gives me the impression that John has fallen in love with Mary. The silence with which he treats Mary on the blog rather makes me think of her as someone basically not very important; a sort of substitute in a desperate attempt to fill an emptiness in his life. And I think it might be significant that as soon as John recognises the existence of Mary in his life, he seems to use her as a sort of buffer towards Sherlock. A façade. First it’s the gleeful “Sorry Sherlock :)” comment above. Vindictive, it appears. And then, in the post Happily Ever After, John insists that his and Mary’s impending (heterosexual) marriage must clearly be the reason why Sherlock chose to help a gay couple getting together, one of them leaving an abusive marriage which was basically a façade. This whole ‘conclusion’ is so stupid that I’m rendered speechless.

Summary

To summarise - for those of you with enough patience to have followed all my ramblings in this marathon meta - I think the picture of John’s character that we can discern from reading up on the whole of his blog possibly tells us even more about him than the show. If the show reflects Sherlock’s mind, albeit almost entirely focused on his own perception of John Watson, this blog might actually give more insight into how John’s own mind works. I think it shows us someone who is struggling desperately with his own feelings. Someone who is trying to mark a distance that he believes is healthy for him, but that he actually doesn’t want, towards the object of his affection, by criticising them. The full-fledged, living, breathing contradiction that is John Watson comes to its full right by the blog. We could almost say he’s ‘human’ :). Kudos to Joe Lidster and the other showmakers for providing us with this gem.

Tagging some people who might be interested: @raggedyblue @ebaeschnbliah @gosherlocked @sagestreet @sarahthecoat @tjlcisthenewsexy @elldotsee @88thparallel @sherlock-overflow-error @yeah-oh-shit

#John's blog is important #John's blogging is his therapy

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artificialqueens · 3 years

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Galactica, Chapter 62 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: The assistant gossip network continued to do its thing, while Courtney lived her best life, Sutan offered Violet some wardrobe assistance, and Bianca planned a coming out.

This Chapter: The Galactica Holiday Party has arrived, and not everyone is prepared...

***

“Remember to find your light!”

Gigi turned her head, trying as hard as she could not to squeeze her eyes shut, the studio lights blinding.

“I said find it, not stare into the sun!”

Gigi blushed and moved her head again, doing her best to try and follow the instructions Sutan kept giving her.

They were in a photo studio in the Bronx, Gigi to get her first pictures for her portfolio taken, while Symone had practiced how to shoot in swimwear, her friend now waiting with her phone for Gigi to finish up.

Gigi had watched Symone move around, completely enthralled by how elegant the other model already was, Sutan barely correcting her.

“Straighten your back!” Gigi did as she was told, a pair of black jeans hugging her body, the long sleeved black shirt she was wearing clinging to her arms.

“Excuse me...” The photographer, who had introduced herself as Widow, looked out from behind her camera, “can I do my job in peace?” Widow smiled even though her tone was clearly sassy, her teeth blindingly white, her black box braids collected in a high bun. She was wearing a black leather jacket and jeans, big red earrings hanging from her ears.

“You know what I hired you for,” Sutan smiled back, and Widow rolled her eyes, making Gigi giggle.

“Yes sir, right away sir,” Widow teased.

“Don’t give the models any ideas with your attitude.” Sutan grinned, his sleeves rolled up around his elbows, refocusing on Gigi who had tried to hold the position he had asked for.

“No, not like, you have to be more.” Sutan moved his shoulders, and Gigi tried to copy it. She knew they were doing this shoot so she could get an idea of what she looked like, so she could train what Sutan called her inner photographer, but it was really difficult.

“No, still not right.” Sutan stepped on the set, getting next to Gigi, the scent of his cologne instantly catching her nose. “Your strength is in your lines Gigi, so you have to stand tall. Use those legs of yours,” He smiled, tapping his own left leg and moving it forward, mirroring what Gigi hoped she was doing. “Try this.”

Gigi moved her leg to copy Sutan, her entire center of balance shifting.

“There we go!” Sutan grinned. “Good job. Now hold it, and find your light.”

***

Violet tried to turn to the side, watching her profile in the big mirror on the back wall of the dressing room.

Her and Sutan had each been swept up by a personal shopper the moment they stepped inside Barney’s, Violet whisked away to the woman's clothes department where everything was outrageously expensive and completely new.

Violet was wearing a beautiful red dress, the hemline just off the floor, her cast barely visible if she stood completely still, which suited her perfectly well.

Violet had every plan to get to the Christmas party, sit down, and then hopefully not move again for the rest of the night, Jovan’s offer of bedazzling her crutches still making her shiver.

“So, what do we think?” Violet’s shopper smiled, the woman standing behind her, her pile of rejected dresses four times the size of the approved ones for the upcoming events, but she couldn’t help being extremely critical, not when everything was so stupidly expensive.

“Well…” Violet looked in the mirror. The dress suited her, even though it didn’t sit snugly at her waist, but that wasn’t something a loose loop stitch couldn’t fix so she could undo it again later and hopefully keep the dress longer. It hadn’t been Violet’s intention to lose weight, and if she was being honest, she had actually expected to gain with a broken foot, but it seemed like that hadn’t been the case, her appetite even worse than usual, her pain killers often making it feel like she had knives stabbing her stomach.

“I’ll take it.”

Violet knew that the dress would be approved by Fame, and loved by Sutan, the low neckline and the opportunity for matching underwear always a treat.

***

“Kat? Are you gonna be okay?” Trixie asked, voice soft.

They were sitting in a little cafe across from her doctor’s office. They’d just gotten the official news - she was pregnant, no doubt about it. She’d put on a transparently false, cheerful face while they were there but barely said two words since they’d left, a croissant and mango smoothie sitting in front of her, untouched.

According to the doctor’s best estimate, she was 14 weeks along, which already limited their options, a fairly invasive procedure now the only way to go if they didn’t want the baby.

She looked at him, blue eyes clear, and said, “I don’t know.”

Trixie nodded, taking her hand in his and holding it lightly. He didn’t want to push her too much, could tell that she was in a fragile state of mind.

“Well...I’m here if there’s anything…Anything I can do.”

“Got a flask on you?” she asked drily, then closed her eyes, immediately chagrined. “I’m sorry, that’s not funny.”

“It’s a little funny, babe.” He pressed a kiss to the back of her hand, the two of them sitting side by side, their fingers intertwined.

***

Roxy looked up as Courtney rounded the corner from Miss Fame’s office, flashing her a bright smile. She had just gotten yet another delivery--Roxy was fast becoming BFFs with Greg, the Marie Claire office runner.

“Hey Rox! Whatcha got for me?”

“Hi, Court,” Roxy said, eyeing her suspiciously before handing over the bag, wondering why she was so perky today.

Courtney looked inside the bag and saw what Roxy had already - a large black velvet jewelry box.

“Open it,” Roxy said, and Courtney pulled it out, peeking inside before snapping it closed again. “Come on, you’re not gonna show me?”

A smile pulled at Courtney’s lips, and she leaned forward onto the reception desk, voice low, saying, “You wanna know something?”

“Yes, of course!” Roxy perked up. Was Courtney finally about to admit to her affair with Bianca Del Rio? It was gonna be a hell of a lot easier once she didn’t have to pretend to be in the dark anymore.

“You know how I said that I’ve been...uh...seeing someone who works at Marie Claire?”

“Yeah…you gonna tell me who?”

“Well, no,” she said, and off Roxy’s annoyed scoff, added, “But...we’re coming to the party tonight...together.”

“Oh really?” Roxy’s eyebrows shot up. This actually was pretty decent information, given the potential shit storm it could cause. The drama of Miss Fame’s assistant dating one of her best friends, and them showing up together to a company event? Absolutely delicious.

“Yeah, so...I guess you’ll find out soon enough,” Courtney said, eyes twinkling with mischief.

“I guess I will,” Roxy agreed, smiling placidly, already typing out a DM to Bob.

***

Fame breathed a sigh of relief as the car pulled up to the hotel she had chosen for the Galactica Christmas Party. The facade was decorated with dripping ice crystals, lights and fake snow making it the winter wonderland she had envisioned. The red carpet had been rolled out, guests already posing for photos and talking to reporters about their clothes, Fame recognizing the signature cameras from E! Network and one of Vogue’s journalists.

She had gotten the confirmation from Shangela that the string quartet had shown up, the musicians hired for the lounge area while the caterers had set up shop in the enchanted forest filled with actual pine trees, the bar carrying a line of gins specifically brewed for the event.

“So,” Patrick lifted an eyebrow, a curious expression on his face. The majority of Fame’s skirt was in her husband's lap since she refused to let the silk anywhere near the bottom of the car. “how are we feeling?”

“Me?” Fame smiled, leaning over to press a kiss against his cheek “Quite content.”

***

“Are you sure I can’t talk you into walking the carpet?”

Sutan looked over at Violet, the two of them on the bottom of the steps leading up to the hotel, Raja and Raven already halfway inside. Raja was in a tight-fitting emerald green suit with a deep cleavage, her hair twisted into a gorgeous updo, while Raven was dressed in a floor length gown in matching green, the two of them looking absolutely stunning together.

“Yes.” The message was clear, and Sutan could feel the tiniest curl of irritation in his stomach. Violet was beyond beautiful, her usually pink nails carefully painted the same red shade as her dress, a tiny purse slung over her shoulders, her black hair curled and spilling over her shoulders and back, her posture perfect even though she was leaning on her crutch, only one of them allowed to come along.

He wanted those pictures of them together, even if it was selfish.

“Lovely eyes-”

“I said no.” Violet’s tone left no room for argument, and Sutan pressed his lips together, taking a deep breath through his nose not to let his irritation win out.

“Sutan,” Violet reached out, gently touching his arm. “This isn’t a you issue, it’s a me issue. I’d love to go up there and be on your arm like a dainty little princess or trophy-”

“What?” Sutan raised an eyebrow. He had never thought of Violet as a princess, or even dainty, the muscles he knew she had and the iron will he had seen her possess over and over again so much more attractive than any trophy girlfriend could be. “That’s not what-”

“I know,” Violet squeezed, underlining her words, “But I’d honestly rather jump into traffic than talk to a single one of those reporters, and risk showing up in any of their publications.”

Sutan snorted, Violet’s dark sense of humor as always getting to him. He knew it also had to do with her relationship to her family, Violet’s choked hospital confession still rumbling around in his head, what little he had managed to piece together telling its clear story of a gossip magazine-obsessed mother, his girlfriend posing for his own mothers old canon camera at Thanksgiving without any issues.

“Okay, but promise me,” Sutan took a step, bringing them closer, his hand finding it’s now familiar place on Violet’s waist, “that I can get one soon.”

“A photo?” Violet raised an eyebrow, their hips almost touching, her free hand on his chest.

“Mmh, just for the two of us.”

“I’ll consider it,” Violet smiled, her fingers gently rearranging his tie, making sure it was sitting completely straight. “If you promise me that we can get a cab home.”

“A cab?” They had arrived with Raja and Raven, a driver coming back to pick all four of them up at the end of the night, “Why?”

“Because you, Mr. Amrull, look fucking fantastic tonight,” Violet looked up at him, a smirk on her lips, “and I wanna make out in the backseat.”

“You ready?” Bianca asked, looking over at Courtney as their car pulled up to the curb.

Courtney glanced outside, where a crowd of photographers and reporters were gathered, stomach seizing with the reality of what she was about to do, wondering if it was a mistake. Even walking the carpet with Bianca instead of taking the normal entrance with the rest of the support staff suddenly seemed audacious.

“No,” she admitted, looking back at Bianca apologetically. “I’m sorry, I-”

“Would it help if I told you how absolutely gorgeous you look?” Bianca asked, reaching out to take her hand.

Her outfit for the night was probably the most conservative of all the dresses Dan had pulled for her - a black dress--low cut, but not in a slutty way with a little bow at the front and full circle skirt, paired with a pair of Bianca’s beautiful multicolored Louboutins and simple, classy jewelry--including a glamorous strand of pink pearls that Bianca had sent over earlier in the day.

In spite of her nerves, Courtney couldn’t help but smile a little at the compliment, proud of the care she’d taken with her hair and makeup, hoping to make Bianca proud. She tucked a stray curl behind her ear and responded with a cheeky, “Look who’s talking…”

Bianca grinned, and Courtney was once again struck by how fantastic she looked, in a red silk organza cocktail dress, the floaty feminine fabric accentuating her curves perfectly, a deep v-neck giving the perfect peek at her cleavage.

“What if we just stayed in the car for awhile?” Courtney suggested, fluttering her lashes.

“I promise to make it worth your while later, angel.” Bianca squeezed her hand, pulling her in close. “But right now, I’m pretty excited to show you off. So whaddaya say?”

Courtney took a deep breath, the churning in her stomach now a combination of nerves and excitement.

“Okay.”

Bianca signalled to the driver, who quickly got out and walked around to open their door.

“Here we go…” Bianca gave her hand one final squeeze and got out, giving the flashing cameras a polite wave before reaching back in to help her out.

Courtney’s mind was a mess. She suddenly had so many concurrent anxieties, like tripping on the carpet, or being dragged to filth by come gossip rag, or, given how lightheaded she now felt, fainting, here in front of all these people. She tried to steady herself, and Bianca’s arm slid securely around her waist.

“I’ve got you, don’t worry. You look amazing,” Bianca murmured in her ear.

Bianca led her down the carpet--a true professional, posing and smiling, calmly directing Courtney so that she knew where to stand and where to look, chatting jovially with reporters.

“Who’s your date, Bianca?” one of them asked boldly.

“Wouldn’t you like to know!” Bianca joked back. They’d discussed this ahead of time - better to keep Courtney’s name out of things for the moment, given her job title. Courtney understood, and agreed, and was even a bit relieved. For now, on gossip sites and fashion blogs, she’d just be ‘BDR’s latest blonde,’ and she was very much okay with that. After all, the people that mattered to both of them would know, and that’s what she cared about.

“Well, is it serious?” another piped up.

“You tell me,” Bianca said, and then Courtney really thought she might faint, Bianca pressing a sweet kiss to her cheek as about a billion flashbulbs went off in their faces, murmuring, “You’re doing perfectly, angel.”

She turned to Bianca, gazing at her with breathless admiration, feeling like the luckiest girl in the entire world. And then she took Bianca’s face in her hands and impulsively kissed her, right on the mouth, soft but sure. So what if it was only a fling? Courtney didn’t care anymore--she would remember this high for the rest of her life.

Bianca smiled against her mouth and whispered, “Well, that’ll make headlines...”

“Oops,” Courtney whispered back, both of them giggling.

They broke apart, matching grins on their faces as they looked into each other’s eyes, until Bianca turned back to the sea of paparazzi, now in a frenzy, shouting out questions too fast for Courtney to even process the words.

“That’s enough for you demons!” Bianca called, gently pulling Courtney up the steps, giving one last smiling wave at the top, Courtney’s hand still clasped in hers.

“Are you done?”

“Nope!”

Raja hid her grin, her shoulder touching Raven’s as they posed for the camera, her fiancée radiating excitement as she chatted and flirted with the photographers.

Raven had always adored the camera, and if there was a journalist behind it, she was practically in love, getting caught by the paparazzi a treat for her each and every time it happened.

Raja didn’t feel the same thrill, didn’t care as much about showing up in gossip magazines and websites since she had gotten more than enough of that in her youth, but she couldn’t be truly upset when it generated so many great pictures, Raven often looking sexy as sin when she got caught leaving the gym.

“Raja! Over here!”

Raja turned her head, the photographer catching her attention, and that was when she saw them, Bianca coming up a little ways behind her.

Seeing Bianca on a red carpet wasn’t strange, but what was frankly bizarre was the familiar blonde at her side.

Raja had expected Fame’s assistant to be somewhere in the crowd, since it was a company party and a big treat for the staff, but what the fuck was she doing on the red carpet? The support staff was supposed to enter the party through the normal pedestrian entrance.

And then, Bianca put her arm around Courtney’s waist, kissing her cheek as she giggled girlishly.

Oh, fuck.

This was not good. Frankly, Raja wasn’t shocked that Bianca had been messing with Courtney, her behavior at the meeting last week making it painfully obvious that she liked her. But this, this was next level.

Just when she thought it couldn’t get any more embarrassing, Raja witnessed something that made her blood run cold. Courtney grasped Bianca’s face in her hands and kissed her on the lips, causing absolute chaos from the group of paparazzi around them.

“Holy shit.”

“What?” Raven looked up at her, a concerned and confused expression on her beautiful face.

“Wait here.” Raja released Raven, leaving her behind on the carpet, prepared to ambush Bianca the second she got to the doors.

Bianca had done a lot of stupid shit over the years - they all had - and dating bimbos wasn’t a new thing for her, but making out with Fame’s assistant in front of the paparazzi?

That was a new level of braindead, even for her, and Raja had to stop it right now.

The moment Bianca stepped off the carpet, she felt someone grab her arm and roughly yank her into the lobby.

“Bianca!” Raja hissed, pulling at her arm. “Come here!”

“Ow!” Bianca laughed at Raja. “Let go of me, you fucking mountain gorilla!”

Just because the woman towered over her was no reason to be intimidated, and it was gonna take a hell of a lot more to bring her down at the moment than Raja looking at her like she was insane.

Beside her, Courtney let out a small gasp, and Raja tried to recover, putting an arm around Bianca’s shoulder and giving Courtney the most sugary-sweet, fakest voice she could manage to say, “Hey there Court, can you give us a minute? I have to chat with Bianca about something important. Great shoes, by the way.”

“Oh...yeah, alright. Um…” Courtney backed away, trying to give them some space. “I’ll just wait over here, then-”

“Perfect!” Raja dragged Bianca to the other end of the lobby, away from any reporters.

“This oughta be good,” Bianca grumbled, though she was still too hyped from the carpet to manage to be truly annoyed.

“What,” Raja pushed Bianca into a corner, inches from her face, her voice filled with venom though her eyes betrayed her geniune concern, “the actual fuck do you think you’re doing, Bianca?!”

“Wanna be more specific?” Bianca asked, tilting her head, an impish smile on her face.

"It's bad enough that you're fucking Fame's assistant, but to parade her around on the red carpet? Without even bothering to give us a heads-up? Are you insane?" Raja’s teeth were clenched, clearly trying to keep her voice down.

"Please. Our relationship has nothing to do with-"

"Relationship? Are you actually calling this a relationship?"

"Yes!" Now, Bianca was starting to get annoyed. Who the fuck did Raja think she was talking to?

"Oy, this is so much worse than I thought,” Raja groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Please don't tell me this is why you bailed on the tasting menu."

"So what if I did?"

"Oh god."

"Fuck you!"

"And what did you expect to happen, Bianca? What's your great master plan with this childish stunt?"

“Well...to be honest, I didn’t know she was gonna kiss me on the carpet,” Bianca admitted, a giggle slipping from her lips. “It was kinda cute, did you see?”

“I...am going to slap you.”

“Come on, Raj. I did give this whole thing a little thought.”

“Really? It doesn’t fucking seem like it!”

“Well, I have. Look, I know she’s gonna be pissed, but I also know she’s not gonna cause a scene in the middle of the party. And then after tonight, she’s got almost a full week to cool off before she has to see me again,” Bianca said, punctuating her statement with a charming smile. Bianca was no idiot. Of course she knew that Fame would be irritated, maybe even angry, but she figured that this was a situation where it would be easier to ask for forgiveness than permission. And besides, if she had to endure her friend’s wrath for awhile in exchange for being free to put her relationship with Courtney out into the open, then so be it.

“That’s what you think will happen?” Raja huffed. “Bianca, please, Fame hasn’t seen you guys yet. If we get Courtney out the back door, we can make an alliance with Patrick to get Fame drunk and unplug the wifi tomorrow so she doesn’t go online. It’ll be like it never happened, and we'll never speak of it again.”

“Raj, listen. I know this might be a real clusterfuck, but I’m willing to accept the consequences.”

“Oh jesus help me.” Raja groaned. “I hope she’s worth it, Bianca.” She pulled away, shaking her head. “I really hope she’s worth it.”

As she walked away, Bianca took a deep breath, looking back across the lobby at Courtney, who was doing a terrible job of trying to look casual, the anxiety on her face clear as day. Bianca sent her a big smile, reaching out a hand, and Courtney rushed toward her.

“Was she mad?” she asked, brows creased with worry.

Bianca cupped her face lightly, stroking her cheek, and promised, “Not at you.”

“Okay.” Courtney bit her lip, and Bianca leaned in to kiss her cheek.

“Shall we?” she asked, gesturing to the ballroom.

“Yeah...in a minute…” Courtney said, immediately adding, “I’m sorry.”

“Take your time, angel. There’s no rush,” Bianca promised. “In fact, if you’d rather get out of here and go somewhere else-”

“No, no, no…” Courtney laughed, taking her hand. “I’m fine. Let’s go in.”

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regardingseas · 3 years

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Ttile: Echoed Vexations (Part One, part two linked)

Fandom: Hermitcraft

Rating: Teen and up audiences (violence warning)

AO3: here! (Full story at once)

•••

Plot Summary:

It's all too easy to turn a blind eye to the past-- to believe that because someone has been shielded from harm's way, they should no longer fear the wrath of their opponent's creed. They're safe now, after all, so why would they..?

Yes, Scar and Cub are certainly "safe", but they're still haunted by memories of the Vex and their deals all the same.

An average afternoon during the HCB Base Swap is cut short when Mumbo accidentally digs up a remnant from Scar's Vex partnership days, and unfortunately for the town's mayor, the other Hermit is far from aware just how triggering the topic can truly be. Things only dissolve from there, and in the end, Grian lends a helping hand to console a friend.

•••

Additional Content Warnings:

Depictions of trauma disorders, panic attacks, flashbacks, paranoid thoughts/delusions, manipulation, gaslighting, threats, injury, and violence. Mentions of religious themes, unintentional self-harm, and non-permanent character death.

Do be careful, but otherwise, enjoy!

•••

The sun was still high in the sky even as Scar finished decorating the monument's support chains, sweltering rays beaming down and adding to the oppressive humidity of the jungle around him. With his usual jacket set aside to fight the heat, he wiped away the beads of sweat that had gathered on his forehead and grabbed a stray bucket from the sidelines. He'd nearly finished the waterfall aspect of the design-- crystal blue streams cascading over the edges of four white spanners, all joining together in the octagonal pool at the base's foundation. It was looking quite spectacular, if he were to say so himself, with the vine-coiled braces and additional water currents tying the otherwise juxtaposing themes together nicely.

Scar scooped up a fresh pail of water, filling it to the brim and hauling it towards the last pillar. He glanced down at the container as he carried it, catching a glimpse of his reflection from the liquid inside. His face shone red with effort, misplaced strands of hair having clung themselves to his tan skin.

Though unsurprised, he still couldn't help but laugh at the rippling image. "It's just my luck I'd swap with another jungle dwelling Hermit. I swear, I can never escape this climate for long. First the island last year, then all this."

With a shake of his head he returned his gaze upwards, continuing to muse aloud to the landscape before him, "You tropics are wonderful and all, but it sure would've been a nice change of pace to set up camp in somewhere like the mountains. Or pull total 180 and have landed in the tundras!"

Concepts for each design raced through his head, each idea fighting the others for dominance and tacking details onto itself, trying to land its place on the metaphorical pedestal of his imagination. A cottage with medieval influences? No, that would be far too typical, amp both of those components up. An entire village with a steampunk driven aesthetic, built into the mountainscape itself; no doubt with custom terraforming to integrate the buildings into the natural environment. That was more like it.

Scar could envision working windmills and waterwheels accompanying purposefully makeshift farmlands, historic blimps having reclaimed skies where they'd soar high overhead. Below them, eye-catching pops of colour, shining through as floating lanterns that hover above connective rope bridges.

As for the arctic concept? Something more grand would be ideal. In his fantasy, he'd created an absolute oxymoron of the words cabin and mansion jumbled together, and he adored it that way. A bottom floor made of bricked stone, the top made of logs and large windows to oversee the view. Accompanying them in the same manner would be a balcony, propped on columns that hugged the building and curved around its corners. The top deck would be open for clear days, and the space below it safe on harsher ones. Sloped roofs would be adorned with chimneys, and the interior warmed by cozy flames that were kept organized with inviting lofts. The living area could be split leveled, sinking down to create its own margin where guests could comfortably gather by the fireplace and--

There was a tug at his ankle, and next thing he knew, a bemused Scar went crashing to the ground, having been too caught up to notice the trailing plants blocking his footway. His hands shot out to catch himself, palms scraping against the concrete floor in a way similar to the childhood stunt of crashing and burning on the pavement. A stinging snapped up his arms, and the water bucket dropped from his grasp, clattering down with a metallic rumble before spilling its contents across the floor.

Scar pushed himself upright with a hiss of air through his teeth, shaking off his grazed palms and wiping them on his jeans. Pulling his foot free from the greenery and gathering himself up was no problem, what was a problem, however, was the troubling sight now before him.

The water had spilled all over one of Mumbo's redstone contraptions, causing the device to short circuit and emit a sort of maroon-grey smoke. The wires fashioned from the compacted dust had been all but washed away, any remaining pieces hanging on by threads and failing miserably whenever a signal attempted to fire; more so sizzling rather than surging alight with energy.

"Oh, crud!" he shouted, racing towards the machine and yanking on the shut-off switch to divert any further input from the broken setup.

It powered down, but Scar was still left swatting the coloured smoke from his face, coughing as the scent of burnt metallics filled his nostrils. When had he gotten so absorbed in possible building opportunities that he'd managed to miss the foliage in front of him? Why had he even been wondering so deeply about it, anyway? This event was about improving one another's bases by adding their own personal touches, not starting a new project entirely.

Scar sighed, he wasn't sure why his mind had begun drifting so far. He'd like to blame it on the wild imagination of a builder, but he had a feeling there was a little more to it. Sometimes, when the world wasn't too much to handle, it was too easy to let fall away. Maybe he spent too much time daydreaming-- he was sure there was a word for that, when trances became so all encompassing, so engrossing.

"But I don't have time to think about that right now," he reminded himself, "I really need to fix this. It doesn't look like most of this redstone is salvageable, I'll have to get new supplies to repair it. Maybe some of the circuits are okay..?"

Scar nudged a repeater with his shoe, the device making an unnatural sloshing noise in his attempt to change the feed-in. He scrunched up his nose, "Okay, nope, gonna need to replace that, too."

Running a hand through his hair in defeat, he glanced towards Mumbo's storage system before shaking his head. It wouldn't be right to use the other man's supplies without asking, let alone waste them on a mistake made due to Scar's own carelessness. He'd have to make his way back to his original base and gather the materials from there once more. When he dropped by initially, he figured he'd gotten everything he needed, but apparently hadn't accounted for dissociation-induced redstone mishaps.

"I guess we're making a trip back," Scar announced to no one, finally picking up the empty bucket to set it safely aside. He made his way over to his tent, temporarily discarding any excess materials and bidding adieu to Jellie before grabbing his elytra and setting off.

Taking to the skies, Scar squinted against the wind as it roared in his ears. His hair parted itself from where it had stuck, short locks brushed back by the flowing breeze. With arms extended for balance, and maybe a dash of amusement, he lit his rockets and propelled himself into the distance.

-----

It wasn't long before he encroached on his base again, allowing his faux wings to glide him downward where he kicked out his legs to come to a soft landing. Scar stopped before the massive drill site just on the outskirts of the forest, heading towards the agglomeration of crates and boxes he had haphazardly stowed aside. He was certain there had to be the necessary hardware in one of the many containers, though which that may be was lost on him. At least, thanks to Mumbo and his new storage system, the chest monster he'd created would soon be a thing of the past.

"I wonder how that's going for him..." Scar pondered, striding over to a random shulker and beginning his sure-to-be protracted search.

"Scar?" a familiar voice interrupted, making him peer ahead to see the moustached man himself rounding the corner. "Hello there! I see you've made yourself rather at home at my base," Mumbo teased.

He couldn't help but chuckle, "That I have. I just needed to stop by and pick up some redstone and iron. With all the ore this place has quarried up, I was sure there's bound to be more of that here than back at Larry."

Mumbo faked surprise with a hearty grin, "Getting into mechanics, are we? Have the inner workings of the temple really had that much influence on you after only a few days?"

"Now I wouldn't say that," Scar shook his head and closed the lid of the grey shulker, seeing no point in hiding the truth. "I took a tumble holding a bucket of water and it kinda spilled on one of the contraptions. I'm sorry for the trouble-- but don't worry! I came here to fix it right up. I just didn't wanna waste your materials fixing my silly error."

The suited man waved his hand dismissively, "Nonsense, it's no trouble. Have you seen the improvements you've made to that place? I mean, of course you've seen them, you built them, but rhetorically speaking--" Mumbo cleared his throat, "Just don't fret over it, I trust that you'll have it fixed right up in no time."

Scar smiled, "Thanks, dude. Now I just have to find where on Earth I put those ore…"

Mumbo gave another laugh, "You know, you can feel free to use some of my things if need be. I have no idea how you expect to find anything in this mess. I'm only trying to do a basic look through so I know where to begin when it comes to the item sorter, but even that doesn't seem to do much good. I swear, it's like trying to play a very intense game of memory, with thousands of nonsensical cards all scattered about."

Scar snickered sheepishly at the comparison, "Yeah, no kidding. But being able to use some resources without flying all the way over here would be great. Thanks again, Mumbo. I don't know if there's anything you'll need here while working, but hey, consider it free range. We're doing these things for each other in the long run, anyway."

"I'd say, 'unless we don't switch back our deeds', but in all honesty? I'm beginning to miss the ol' living monument already."

The two exchange a chuckle before returning to their previous tasks, both going back to digging through the pile of chests in preparation for their projects.

It took longer than Scar wanted to admit to finally find the crate stocked with valuables-- sighing in relief at the sight and immediately beginning to pile the items into his inventory. There were pre-smelted metals from an iron farm, so he didn't have to bother with the ore, and the redstone he'd gathered was already in dust from, meaning all he'd have to do was craft the items after returning.

"I wonder if it would've been easier to stop by the shopping district and buy these directly, instead of making them by hand..." he said, "Oh well, saves on diamonds, and these had to be used some time, I guess."

"Talking to yourself over there?" Mumbo asked.

"Just thinking aloud is all."

"I see," the moustached man nodded, pushing himself up from where he'd been examining the supplies. "I found something neat from last year! Do you wanna see?"

"Sure!" Scar agreed, setting aside his intent of flying back in favour of seeing what it was Mumbo had to show him.

He smiled and stepped over to Scar, holding out a faded piece of paper for them both to see, "I found it stuck to the bottom of a shulker box! Can you believe we used to be competition so recently?" He joked.

Scar could only stare at the advert before him, a steele blue page embellished with a vault-like ring in the center. It meant nothing to the untrained eye, but to him, all of the company's horrors were sealed underneath. ConCorp read bold text in half-connected lettering, the logo finalizing its signature with a black bow tie adorning the bottom.

"Hardly," managed Scar, having just remembered he'd been asked a question, "But it wasn't that recent."

"It was practically yesterday if we're talking business," Mumbo snickered, "but we aren't. I'm not very good at business."

"Me neither, I prefer mayorship," he said in an attempt to change the subject.

Mumbo, however, didn't seem to notice, only turning to stare at Scar with eyes wide. "Are you kidding me? You were quite literally the richest Hermit of all last year! You're wonderful at business. Sahara was amazing, and I don't for a second doubt it was the most ambitious project of our group to date, but she had plenty of bugs, being the machine powered industry that she was. ConCorp, however? That was an utter monopoly! The thing lasted two bloody seasons!"

Scar chuckled awkwardly, "I know, I know, Cub and I worked very hard. But it wasn't all us, we couldn't have done it alone."

"Give yourself more credit," Mumbo insisted, "I'm more than convinced you could have gotten your business up and running even without the help of your Vex friends. Weren't they less prominent in your company last year, anyway? You did change your guy's name from ConVex to ConCorp, after all. I think that would imply less input on their part."

"Not really," he explained, though the tension building in his body was becoming harder to conceal. He had to keep his arms rigid so that they wouldn't shake, forcing in deep breaths to avoid the shaky ones that threatened to take their place. "We just thought it would be better for business, rebranding to something more gentlemanly and all."

Mumbo nodded, "Ah, that makes sense. Though I still don't understand how you managed to work with them to begin with. I likely wouldn't believe it if I hadn't seen it with my own two eyes. I mean business partners with the Vex? Friends, even? How'd you do it? Not to mention why? With all due respect, what makes one seek that out?"

Scar blinked hard at the influx of questions, "Oh, it's- it's really complicated, you might not understand. Cub started it, though. I joined the team not long after, but I wasn't there when he first struck the deal with Them."

"Huh, some deal," Mumbo remarked thoughtfully, and Scar nodded.

He had no idea.

"So what made you leave that behind?" Mumbo continued.

"What?" he asked, finding his thoughts hazy. They were static nothingness, but somehow also crashing into his skull. He found himself having to dig his way through them, while at the same time trying to bury them once he passed. The last thing Scar wanted was to do was hark back to the Vex, to beckon forth Their memory with his own.

The other man simply chuckled, oblivious to Scar's inner turmoil. "ConCorp, the Vex. Did you two just get bored? Having done the same thing for too long?"

"In a sense, you could definitely say we were tired of it. It just- well, it wasn't what we wanted to do anymore. We wanted to move on to new things."

"That's fair enough. Do you blokes still get along? Or did they take the corporation's end like a sour breakup?"

This time, Scar couldn't contain his wince. "We're still friends!" he insisted, "Of course the Vex are my friends."

Mumbo finally quirked a brow, "Are you sure about that? You don't have to worry about hiding some burnt corporal bridges from me, I'm not here to judge."

"Oh yeah, I'm positive," he nodded eagerly, "I'm just- I'm gonna go work on fixing that contraption I damaged, best to get it fixed before we have to switch back."

"Buddy, are you sure everything's alright? I'm sorry if I upset you or anything."

"Nah, I'm just peachy!" Scar announced with far too much false enthusiasm, internally cringing at his failed masking abilities. Not allowing any more time for his ruse to be cracked, he uttered a quick goodbye before adjusting the straps on his elytra and dashing off, leaping into the air and back towards the ruins.

"Scar, wait!" Mumbo tried, but he was already gone.

------

The returning flight was far from the peaceful journey he'd made to the excitation site. His artificial wings beat frantically, struggling to keep up as he charged forward with excessive firepower. He paid no mind to the safety protocol regarding the rocket's cool-down period, simply heralding through the air as fast as his elytra would carry him. Scar arrived back to the monument in a trip overall much faster than when he'd left, but it seemed to drag on for an eternity. The entire excursion consisted of a battle with his own mind-- a war in which he knew he was bound to lose, but he had to hold down the fort until he was on solid ground.

Scar was lucky not to crash into the debris upon landing, frantically stumbling to the dirt and having to grasp onto a piece of wreckage to maintain his balance. His legs nearly buckled under his weight, form trembling in spite of the deep breaths he gave it his all to draw in.

He grasped hard to the rubble, trying to anchor his brain into focus. He couldn't let his thoughts spiral, he couldn't think about Them. He knew grounding techniques, and he tried to rush his way through them.

Five things you can see.

He could see the golden heart, plants, stone, the golden heart again-- the thing was too anatomically correct, he'd seen horrors too similar to it before. And the sound, it was too damn loud, too hard to ignore. Its unsteady rhythm hammering in his ears alongside his own faltering pulse.

Forget visuals, four different noises?

Scar squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to listen, focusing hard on the world around him. Still, he could only hear the heart. He could only hear it pounding, its once melodic notes like nails on a chalkboard. He could remember far too many times when he was left alone with nothing but his heartbeat and his pleas.

Tactile. Texture. What can you feel? Three things you can feel.

Internally, he screamed at his dulling senses to return. God, he didn't want to think about Them, it wasn't worth the risk. They'd been inside his head before, and the mere idea of having his thoughts broadcasted again made his stomach churn. Scar tried harder and harder to suppress the images bubbling to the surface, festering like maggots in an old wound. The more he tried to push them down, however, the fiercer they'd rise back up, and he choked down a sob in attempt to list the sensations he could currently identify.

He could feel the stone-- but he already said the stone, didn't he? He could also feel the sun. It was hot against his back. So hot. He was overheating.

The notes should have been a success, but the drops of sweat felt too akin to tricking blood. The sting of his hands felt too much like the friction burn of a rope. It felt too much like he was back with the Vex again, and as he finally sunk to the soil, he could no longer swim against the onslaught of memories crashing over him like a tidal wave.

They could still hear him, They could still hear him, They could still hear him, They could still get him--

------

The day he and Cub first found the courage to try and cut ties with the Vex had been a hellish one, and the two men weren't even successful in their attempt. Hence, of course, it being the first.

Still, it had taken ages for Scar to persuade Cub that it was even worth trying, the other man having believed it was impossible to sneak anything past the Vex on their own. Scar was persistent, however, and eventually convinced his friend they had a shot if they played their cards right, if they made the right proposal without their intentions being discovered.

They'd constructed their plans in secret for weeks; discussing them only inside of untold locations with hushed whispers, or in the form of coded scrawls they'd burn immediately after reading. They couldn't be too careful, that's what they'd tell themselves whenever they worried their precautionary measures may be over the top. Even so, when a so-called conference was put on the schedule --such events were far from any type of cordial meeting, despite having been assigned the title of one-- the men were hardly prepared for it.

Their conference room consisted of a needlessly grandiose suite, with floors of marble and walls carved from deep umber wood. The polished lumber was adorned with expensive paintings in aureate frames; antique laden shelves taking up the spaces they did not. Aesthetically pleasing decorative tactics were discarded in favour of showing off their riches in a possessive cluster, with the only average items being the table and its chairs sat in the dead center of the area. A chandelier of gemstone and gold swung from above, dangling by the same chains fated to one day bind their vassals.

"Concordats, greetings!" A Vex declared as the men were led through the doorway, hovering in the air at the opposing end of the surface.

"Greetings," parroted Cub minimally, Scar giving a plain nod beside him. Fewer words meant less chance at letting their guard down.

"We've been needing to speak with you," a different Vex chimed.

"Speak with you about the business," yet another visitant confirmed.

"We actually need to discuss similar matters with you all," Scar noted, voice and expression a façade of tranquility.

"You do?" the first asked, wide smile replaced with inquiry.

"Yes," managed Cub, "we want to make you an offer, one you can't refuse."

"I do like the sound of that!" the second snickered.

"We'll hear your offer," the Vex grinned, "we only have one question first!"

"Of course, what is it?" asked Scar, in mental awe of how well their exchange was going.

"Do you recognize these?" it asked, gesturing towards the white table where a blue light flashed, fading away to reveal a small pile of ash.

Cub and Scar glanced to one another in evident confusion, the latter of the two speaking once again, "Forgive me, but we're not sure what you're talking about."

"Oh, silly me!" the Vex giggled, another flash of luminesce encompassing the soot and leaving a stack of papers in its place. As if caught in a controlled gust, they blew from the surface and organized themselves midair; levitating in a cloud of magic.

All of their once burnt notes were lined up before them, cyphers needed to crack their messages included.

Still beaming with innocence, it continued, "How about now? Look familiar?"

The blood drained from their faces, and Scar could have sworn his heart was going to burst from his chest with how hard it was drumming. He wanted to wake up, because this had to be a nightmare.

"No, we have no idea what those are," he tried.

LAIR!

Overlapping voices screamed in his head, all sounding in haunting unison. Scar hastily clapped his hands over his ears, but it did nothing to silence the uproar emanating from within.

You try to break our contract then lie to our faces?

Foolish concordats.

Terrible secret keepers, terrible subjects.

Cub seized hold of Scar's arm and made a break for the door with the brunet in tow, reaching the exit and tugging desperately on the handles. They refused to turn under his grasp, and his eyes darted back towards the Vex; floating creatures growing ever closer to their imaginary bubble providing them with the illusion of safety.

More of Them were phasing in through walls, forms non-corporeal and having no need for the sealed entryway.

Apologize.

They all ordered, Scar flinching at the simultaneous projection. He lowered his hands and turned towards Them, watching Their unmoving grins with wide eyes.

Kneel before your gods and divulge your prayers, we may just show you mercy.

"I'm sorry-" Scar whimpered, but Cub was having none of it.

"No!" the man barked, "Screw this! This isn't worth it! None of this is worth it! He's right! The business, the money, the power, it-- it means nothing! Not when you treat us like this!"

They watched him step forward, his furious yells echoing through the expanse of the room, "We're done! And we mean it! You're going to get us go or else!"

An orchestra of shrill cackles filled the air.

Oooh, it's angry.

They're fighting back!

Teach them a lesson.

"You won't dare make another-" Cub's retaliation was cut short with a cry, the bearded man dropping to the ground in a swift crash.

"Cub!" Scar called, but his attempt to step towards his friend was met only with a searing pain through his legs and the subsequent buckling of his knees. He fell to the marble, limbs heavy as if they'd been weighted. It took considerable force to balance on his arms, appendages left shaking as he peered back up towards the Vex.

He regretted it instantly.

•••

(Part two)

#hermitcraft #hermitcraft fanfic #goodtimeswithscar #grian #mumbo jumbo #mcyt #the vex #cubfan135

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ty-talks-comics · 4 years

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Best of DC: Week of March 18th, 2020

Best of this Week: Robin 80th Anniversary

All of the Robins are awesome.

Every Bat-fan has their favorite as they usually define the era when they began their love of Batman and comics in general. Older fans love Dick Grayson for being the first and greatest Robin that helped make Batman brighter. Edgy 80s kids and teens both love and hate Jason Todd for being the bad boy that died. Younger fans love Tim Drake for being the one to carry the name in the later seasons of the animated series and being one of the best and smartest Robins. Girls get representation from the spunky Carrie Kelly and the awesome Stephanie Brown. No one like Damian. (I’m kidding, he’s super fun.)

There’s a Robin for everyone and this 100 Page Spectacular celebrates the long history of Batman’s greatest sidekicks (though misses a chance to give Carrie Kelly her own short story) and does an amazing job in displaying each characters personalities by some of the best people to have written them over the years. Because there are so many, I’m only going to talk about the ones I really enjoyed!

The first FOUR stories follow Dick Grayson and some of his best eras.

“A Little Nudge” is written by Marv Wolfman with pencils by Tom Grummett, two parts of the legendary team behind the best years of the New Titans (1989). This story follows Dick Grayson as Batman begins to nudge him in the direction of becoming his own man by being increasingly irritable to his protege. At this point in time, Dick was dealing with the stresses of outgrowing his childhood identity and Batman’s continuing overbearing nature. Where Bruce was all about being cold and methodical, Dick thought with his gut.

Grummett, Scott Hanna on inks and Adriano Lucas on colors illustrate Dick’s frustration through his increasingly sour facial expressions and sudden heroic actions. The costumes are as colorful as those old days with Dick wearing the bright yellow cape, bright red tunic and the elf shoes. In the middle of the dynamic duo’s fight with Natural History Museum thieves, Dick stops fighting when a child gets shot, against Bruce’s orders, and stays with him until the bad guys either get away or get taken down by Batman.

Later on, Dick tells Batman that he’s outgrown the Boy Wonder name and sets off to become his own man as Nightwing. Wolfman gives readers an excellent inner monologue from Bruce where he owns up to the fact that he was nudging Dick in that direction because he had just turned eighteen and Bruce believed in him. Batman always supports his kids, especially his first and it turns the story of separation into something heartwarming.

“Aftershocks” is a fun story by Chuck Dixon and Scott McDaniel who worked on my favorite Nightwing series in the 1996 - 2005 era of the character. This wasn’t anything major, just Nightwing doing everything he could to save people after an earthquake causes massive damage to a suspended bridge in Bludhaven. This era of Nightwing was characterized by him mostly striking out on his own and becoming a Bludhaven police officer, being inspired by Jim Gordon.

Dick really came into his own and developed a rogues gallery to himself during this time, not to mention the sweet costume with the blue “wings” running down his arms into his fingers and those big, bulky gauntlets and boots. This era was the epitome of the 90s with big set piece moments, big muscles and Nightwing just being a nice and generally charming guy. After diving off of the bridge to attach a winch to a falling car, the woman inside asks to name her baby after him and he smiles and says, “Robin works, right?”

“The Lesson Plan” is a story from my favorite modern age creators in Tim Seeley, Tom King and Mikel Janin. The Grayson series took place shortly after Dick’s identity was exposed to the world during “Forever Evil” (2013) by the Crime Syndicate. At this time he was acting as a spy for an agency called Spyral while spying on them for Batman. I never think of Tom King as a comedy guy, but this story was almost gut bustingly hilarious. It was just a world trotting adventure where he teaches one of the students of St. Hadrian’s how to be a spy.

Truly this series was Dick at his most handsome, witty and skilled. He jumps out of a helicopter and grabs onto the cords of a cable car before rescuing a woman held hostage by terrorists on walruses. Dick, the student and the hostage ten fight off more terrorists in Tanzania, riding a bus headed for Los Angeles of all places before Dick finds himself in something Dejah Thoris would wear and having a night with the hostage who reveals herself to be a gorilla from Gorilla City. It’s absolutely absurd, but it is immensely fun and welcome since that whole series is well regarded by fans.

“More Time” by Judd Winick, Dustin Nguyen and John Kalisz is a far more somber tale about Jason Todd potentially a short time after the events of Under the Red Hood. Jason Todd was the second Robin and met his unfortunate end in the 1988 story, A Death in the Family by Jim Starlin and Jim Aparo. Jason eventually returned in the Batman: Under the Hood story where Winick and Doug Mahnke re-envisioned the former Robin as a violent vigilante Jason does have something of a strained relationship with Batman, but it wasn’t always that way as this story illustrates.

One thing that Dustin Nguyen has always been great at, it’s making kids super adorable and he does so in this story as it flips back and forth between the past and the present as Jason gives Bruce a birthday present in the form of his father’s watch, which Jason sought to fix. Nguyen and Kalisz characterize the past with Jason appearing as a happy, young kid under the dim lights of the Batcave and a twinkle in his eyes. He’s happy to have a home and a father to care for him so he wanted to do something nice for him.

Present Day Jason is characterized by dark backgrounds with bright oranges, smoke and heavy blacks for the shadows. Jason is far more tired, grizzled and angry, but he still finds the time to place the same gift box from all those years ago on the Batmobile for Bruce to find. At this point in time, they may have been at each other throats, but the love between them was still there, buried deep - culminating in two side by side panels of past and present Jason saying, “Happy Birthday, Bruce.”

“Boy Wonders” is a story about Tim Drake by James Tynion IV, Javier Fernandez and David Baron and sees Tim taking advice from all of his brothers. Next to Chuck Dixon and Geoff Johns, James Tynion IV has had one of the longest lasting impacts on the Tim Drake character throughout his run on Detective Comics by emphasizing the power of his mind in comparison to the other Robins and why he could ultimately be the successor to Batman above each of them or eke out a new life for himself.

While taking down the cast of The Warriors on a speeding train with Nightwing, Tim contemplates what his future will be. He looks to Dick as the one who did everything that he’s doing now and Dick tells him that as the smartest Robin, the best thing he could do is use that mind to bring up the next generation of heroes. Jason, the reason he’s even wearing the costume of Robin in the first place, tells him to take everything he’s learned from Batman to become BETTER than him. Arguably, it’s Damian that gives him the best advice by telling him that he’s the most capable of all of the Robins and that he should choose a path himself instead of relying on the advice of others.

Of course, this story takes place before the events of Detective Comics Rebirth where Tim does chart his own path in making Gotham safer with his Gotham Knights Protocol, but things don’t exactly turn out well for him. For all of the talk about how Tim is the smartest, he unfortunately could never get out of his own way long enough for things to go right...especially now that he’s going by “Drake” in that awful brown costume.

“Fitting In” is a Stephanie Brown story by Amy Wolfram, Damion Scott and Brad Anderson which sees Stephanie trying to live up to the standards of each of the boys that came before her. Stephanie was absolutely the shortest term Robin that Batman took on, as he only allowed her to take up the mantle in an attempt to get Tim back after his real father told him to hang up the cape after discovering his sons identity.

Even still, Stephanie did everything she could to earn Bruce’s respect and Wolfram plays on this and that past story by making it more about Tim than Steph. She has to train in the same costume that Tim did, but she proves more...voluptuous than Tim. Her costume bursts at the seams and Alfred designs the costume that she’s known for. She and Batman then get a call about fire at an amusement park and ride off to take down Firefly.

Unfortunately for her, she gets captured, but being the innovative girl that she is, she manages to free herself and take down Firefly at the same time. Damion Scott’s art is very well suited to the cartoonish action and paints her as a capable sidekick despite initially being a damsel in distress. I honestly wish her run as Robin would have been longer because she honestly fits well in the role as the bubbly Robin in contrast to the hell that Tim was going through at the time.

A point can be made that this story also had some needless sexualization, but given Bruce's lack of respect for Stephanie and him just wanting a replacement Tim at the time, this was well written from that perspective. He never cared for Stephanie and her time as Robin was mostly her trying to live up to Tim's standard which eventually left her to try too hard and "die" because of it. I’ll always take more Stephanie Brown as I can cause even now there’s not enough of her and I’m damn sure not reading Young Justice by Brian Michael Bendis.

“My Best Friend” is the one that makes me the most sad as it revolves around Jon Kent writing an essay on Damian as well...his best friend. I feel like the Super Sons series was also done a dity hand by BMB as he took Jon and aged him up for his Superman story when we could have gotten more fun stories between Damian and Jon. As far as homages to one of the better Rebirth series this one was just fun.

There’s not much to say other than Jon reminisces over a few of their adventures and tells readers about the side of Damian that we don’t often see because the Bat-boy is always a little bit too intense. Jon reminds us that they’ve fought for most of the time they’ve known each other, but when it comes to being heroes, Damian always had his back. It’s heartwarming. Of course there’s the continuity issue of them going to the same school in this story cause Jon was only ten at the time and Damian was thirteen, but honestly I only care about the friendship.

“Bat and Mouse” is a story by Robbie Thompson and Ramon Villalobos which sees Bruce and Damian having separate brooding inner monologues about how neither understands the other anymore and about how they want to open up to each other, but the distance between them has grown too wide. Admittedly, this is a much darker story in the respect that Batman and Robin haven’t really been the same since Damian started his new Titans team and started down a darker path that his father has yet to find out about.

Thompson captures this feeling that Damian is arrogant but scared. He feels like he’s outgrown what Batman has become because he’s willing to get rid of threats almost permanently through erasing their memories and villainous tendencies (see Teen Titans, 2018). At the same time, he’s afraid that maybe what he’s doing isn’t the right path and he so desperately wants to reach out to his father, but feels like he can’t.

Batman is the same way in that he loves his son more than anything and wants to regain the relationship that they had in the past, but doesn’t know how to say the words either. He knows that Damian is hiding something big, but he doesn’t want to accuse the boy and deepen the already cavernous rift. Even as they take down the robotic villain Quietus, they show signs of breaking through their equally cold exteriors, but fail to do so and I get the feeling this will all come to a head soon.

The Robins will always be some of my favorite characters in all of comics. Each of them have distinct personalities and quirks that set them apart from a lot of comic characters, especially when it comes to the trauma that they’ve faced alongside Batman. This special won’t be for everyone, just like each era of Robin isn’t for everyone, but overall, I really enjoyed it and the creators selected to honor these fantastic characters.

#robin #robin 80th anniversary #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #stephanie brown #damian wayne #carrie kelly #dc comics #comic books #comic review

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thosequeenboys · 5 years

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Every Road Leads Back to You (Ben Hardy x Joe Mazzello)

Summary: Joe is on holiday in Europe, visiting the BoRhap boys. His visit to Ben, who is on set in Belfast filming Pixie, brings up many emotions in each of them, and helps them gain some clarity.

A/N: The IG and Tumblr postings of these two have worn me down! In this angsty story Ben and Joe, are dealing with their own personal and professional struggles. In my professional life, I coach people to help them succeed in their jobs and work situations. This story made me think about the strains of an acting career. The title is from the Bette Midler song, “Every Road Leads Back to you” from the enjoyable, emotional movie, “For the Boys.” Song lyrics in the story, which came to me as I wrote, are bolded and referenced at the end.

Thank you!: I’d like to thank all the great FanFic writers and Fandom members who entertain and inspire me. Special shout outs to @deakysgurl for beta reading this for me; @jessahmewren, my first Tumblr author, encourager and connection; and @m0etenchandon, @freddie-mercurial, @dayoneliveaid @brownhardyho @brianmay-be @deacytits @deacysfabottomedgirl @its-our-paris @queenismykween

Warnings: Angst, Love, loss of a parent, some longing. Figuring out life, love and work stuff!!

Joe was on holiday! Following the golf tournament with Gwilym, Joe arrived in Venice and joined Rami, Lucy, and other friends on a luxurious boat ride. They realized they were being followed by a slew of paparazzi. They indulged them for a while and finally shut it down by turning their backs and flipping them the bird, successfully causing them to scatter.

As their boat docked, Joe’s attention turned to the last leg of his trip-seeing his best buddy of them all in Belfast, where he was filming. A smile spread across his face and he took a deep breath, anticipating their reunion. It had been a long time.

He paused on the dock and texted Ben: “Hey, wrapping in Venice and looking forward to heading to your neck of the woods tomorrow. Got a Noon plane-should get to you around 6:00. Please send your address.”

He eyed his phone for a few minutes as Rami spoke, awaiting a response.

“We’re heading to dinner, want to join us, Joe?” Rami asked.

“Thanks, but I’m gonna head back to the hotel,” Joe said. “I have some things to catch up on before I head out tomorrow.”

“Oh, right,” Rami smiled. “You’re going to visit Ben. I’m sure he could use a break. Please send him our love. I’m so glad we had this time together. Love you, dude.” Joe hugged Rami and Lucy good-bye.

He glanced at his phone as he walked toward a cab. No response.

Joe retreated to his hotel room. He changed, worked out, got dinner, and left a message for his agent, eager to hear if he solidified an audition for him for a Netflix mini-series and a movie role. He became agitated at the uncertainty-both about career plans-and his imminent travel. He checked his phone again hoping for a text, still no response. His agitation grew.

That night, Joe lay in bed. His future held a number of uncertainties-will he need to move to LA again or go on location if he gets these roles? Are these the best he can get? What about his family, who were still adjusting to the new normal? It was overwhelming to think about. Eager to calm and distract himself, he laid back and let his mind flash to warm and wonderful images of BoRhrap: filming over long days; grabbing late night meals; sharing endless jokes; working together so easily. Suddenly, his breath hitched as he thought about the suffering that intruded into those happy times. His eyes watered, remembering how he unraveled in slow motion when answered his ringing phone to his sister’s teary voice. Even now, it was hard to believe his dad was gone. His knees had buckled after hanging up with her. The boys raised him up, physically and emotionally, encircling him as his tears flowed. He remembered glancing at Ben, whose green eyes burrowed into him, visibly tearing up himself, as he squeezed Joe’s shoulder in their huddled group embrace.

Returning to his present restless night, he didn’t grant those emotions permission to invade him, and he switched his inner screen to the next reel of happier times: the movie premiere and the interviews, as the film rocked the world; the whirlwind of Awards nominations; the Oscars; and their playful Instagram posts, featuring Hardzello and Cardy-B.

Over time, the hype and glow of the movie faded, and the boys parted to pursue other endeavors. Ben travelled extensively, working on multiple projects. Calls were strained and rushed. “I gotta go, buddy…I’m sorry….I hope we can see each other -- next month, maybe, yeah?”

“Yeah, I know. Let me know, and I’ll get a ticket…” Joe had responded before he heard Ben carrying on another conversation as the call disconnected.

He missed his dear friend and the times they shared, on and off the set - and the love. Joe had not allowed himself to dig deeply into what that love meant. He just knew the magic of those 12 months were like nothing he ever experienced, and he wanted to have Ben in his life. “When I look and I find…I still love you. (1). And without him, there was an emptiness.

Suddenly, his phone pinged. “Hi, here’s the address….”

That was it. Not “Can’t wait to see you!” He felt a little dismissed. Was Ben fitting him in as a favor?

‘Great, see you soon!” he responded. Relieved to have the details set, he fell asleep, rising early to head to the airport. He ran to the gate after security dragged for over an hour. Settling into his seat, he welcomed the stillness.

Joe ordered a drink, downed it quickly and then fell asleep as the plane took off. The sleep became restless as he pictured the visit, fueled by Ben’s less-than-enthusiastic text. He pictured arriving at Ben’s modern flat with floor to ceiling windows that looked out high over the city. He envisioned Ben’s co-stars there-mingling, snacking and drinking, easy laughter flowing. He saw Ben in his element, giving hugs, cracking private jokes, looking vibrant, fit and elegant, his new friends fawning over him. Though Ben would try to fill Joe in on the jokes, Joe pictured himself feeling awkward - and replaced. Joe’s eyes flew open as the plane landed; his heart pounding and tears welled in his eyes, those images of Ben’s new friendships stinging him. It was a mistake to come here, he thought. His stomach tightened as he pictured himself cast in the role as outsider.

“Landed” Joe texted to Ben as he grabbed a cab. The cab dropped him off and he ambled up the path to the non-descript apartment complex. He knocked on Ben’s door softly.

The door was opened by a solemn Ben. “You made it. Come in.” Ben said with a tense grin. Joe took a deep breath to brace himself and walked through the door tentatively. He stopped and breathed a sigh of relief. Ben was alone. There was no party. No laughter. No new friends. The furnished apartment was dreary; the living room was lit by one standing lamp with a heavy shade that emitted a dim light, next to the worn couch. There were empty take out containers on the coffee table and free weights strewn about the floor, along with a pile of newspapers and other assorted items. This wasn’t like Ben, Joe thought, knowing that he was pretty meticulous and organized about his surroundings and himself.

Joe put his bag down and looked up at Ben. Their eyes locked. “Hey Buddy,” Joe said as he leaned in to hug him. Ben hugged him back tentatively and broke the hug quickly. “You want a beer?” Ben asked, as he headed through the small living room toward the back of the small apartment to the tiny windowless kitchen, situated between the living room and bedroom. “Sure,” Joe replied as he followed Ben.

Ben swung the refrigerator door open to get the beers and Joe peered in behind him. “Dude, you got things growing and dying in there. What’s up???” Joe asked with a smirk, feigning outrage. Ben chuckled. It felt good to laugh. He had to admit, some things just sounded better with an American accent. Ben grabbed two beers and as he went to close the frig, Joe held the door open. “Ok, this needs to be addressed. Like. Now.” Joe started quickly removing items from the fridge to the small counter and gathered a handful of rotten food, motioning to the garbage can, which Ben brought over. “You travelled all this way to clean out my fridge?” Ben asked with crooked grin and a raised eyebrow.

“Aha!” Joe said. “Takeout rice and chicken, salvageable veggies.” I can make us a stir-fry!! And organize your fridge. You get two for the price of the one. Are you hungry?”

“Uh yeah, that would be great. Thanks.” Actually, Ben wasn’t sure if he was hungry. He should be. He had toast in the morning and snacks during brief breaks at the catering tent. His stomach was in knots most of the time, the stress he felt taking up residence there and throwing off his natural patterns. Ben liked that Joe took charge-to help bring some order into his world, feeling his own tenuous grip – and he was moved that Joe took steps to care for him.

“Great. I’ll get this together in a few minutes. You look tired? Why don’t you sit down and rest?”

“Actually”, Ben said,” I think I’ll take a shower-if that’s ok.” He put the beers on the kitchen table.

“Sure, sure.” Ben headed to the bathroom off the bedroom in the back of the flat. Joe got to work, chopping veggies, heating up the rice and chicken, and creating a sauce. He always felt comfortable in the kitchen and loved to cook. And there was nothing he’d rather do at this moment then take care of Ben, who was out of sorts. His eyes didn’t have their usual sparkle and he seemed tense, down and distracted, listless almost. Clearly something was plaguing Ben and he needed to figure it out. As dinner cooked, Joe finished cleaning and organizing the fridge.

Ben came into the kitchen fresh from the shower, running a towel through his glossy hair. He was wearing fresh jeans and a sweatshirt. Joe couldn’t stop his eyes from lingering on Ben, who literally took Joe’s breath away. Joe turned his body away from the blonde to shift his focus. “Perfect timing. Dinner is served,” he said in a British accent, pleased that he remembered how to breath after that brief arousal-and how to slip into a British accent. He hastily set the table and served the meal.

Ben chuckled at Joe’s mock service. “This was nice of you. Thanks,” he said, sitting down and throwing the towel on the table. He rolled the food over his plate gracefully with the fork, taking a few bites to his mouth. Eager to distract the conversation away from himself, he peppered Joe with questions.

““I saw the pap pictures. Nice ending there,” he smiled. “How are Rami and Lucy?” he asked.

“Oh, you know, nauseatingly happy and cute, can’t keep their hands off each other for a second. And that Rami…has a million projects lined up-he sets the world on fire, he can burn brighter than the sun.” (2) Ben nodded and raised other topics to steer the conversation: The World Cup, Brian and Roger touring with Adam-and how happy they looked.

Ben worked hard to get a few forkfuls in his mouth between the strained discussion. The food was nourishing and tasty, lovingly prepared by Joe. He wished he was able to appreciate it.

Joe noticed Ben’s hesitation and stared at him. “You don’t like it? I mean, I know we’re not at the Oscars After-Party…”

“I do, I do, I’m just…” Ben let his voice trail. He could feel he was close to the floodgates opening. It took every ounce of concentration to hold his emotions inside and project a light demeanor, his best acting of the day. He desperately wanted to show his appreciation to Joe for visiting and taking care of him. He just wanted things to be normal. “I’m good,” Ben blurted out, “Really. Just done in by today’s taping. His folded-up demeanor and dark eyes belied his sentiment.

Joe saw right through it. “Well, don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t look good. I mean, you look sad…distraught really. And look at this place. It’s a hell hole. It’s not like you to live like this. Something’s troubling you. Please tell me what’s going on.” Joe urged.

Ben looked down and placed his fork on the plate. Tears gathered in his eyes. “It’s been so horrible. The script is a mess, constant rewrites. The director is an asshole. He keeps changing his mind and asking for retakes. He gets frustrated when we can’t get things right immediately. How can we? The lines keep changing!! Everyone is so frustrated and tense. I like the cast ok, but we’ve all actually been bickering. I hate it. I wish I never signed on. It’s so unlike BoRhap. I …I”

His voice cut off and the tears started to flow down his cheeks. Joe stood and helped Ben up. “Come on, let’s sit on the couch,” he said, as he escorted the younger man a few steps into the living room and eased him onto the couch, sitting beside him. Ben started to heave, his body shaking, as the last two months of pent up frustration, sadness and stress spilled out of him.

“Oh, Ben, oh, Buddy,” Joe leaned into him and hugged him, feeling Ben’s body tense up and shake with emotion finally being let loose. Joe’s mind raced. He felt totally ill-equipped to soothe Ben. He recalled his jealous feelings of earlier in the day and felt guilty. While he didn’t want to be replaced, he certainly didn’t want his friend to be miserable. He felt so selfish-not thinking of what was going on with Ben that led him to be distant.

Joe felt panicked about how to be in the moment with Ben. He took a deep breath and rubbed Ben’s back. He faced him and looked into his eyes, ran his fingers though his hair and then put both of his arms on the younger man’s shoulders. “Hey. Listen to me. I know you’re overwrought. But you can do this. You’re a great actor. You can’t take all the crap personally. Whatever they expect-It’s inside of you-you’ll tap into it. Then you’ll get to the other side of it.” He brought him in for a close hug, as Ben whimpered. “It’s ok. You’ll be ok,” Joe soothed. Ben stayed in Joe’s arms, letting his friend take on his emotions.

“I feel so badly you have been suffering. I should have reached out more…” Joe mumbled.

“I didn’t either. I couldn’t.” Ben said. “I felt like a failure. I guess I wanted you to think I was in control. That I was a professional and could handle anything.”

“You are - and you can.” Joe replied without missing a beat.

“I wanted to keep the image going. That I’m this leading actor who has it all together. When in fact, it is all so close to falling apart-and has been for awhile.” Ben added.

“You don’t have to keep up an image with me. Look, I know you can do this-you are so talented and you have such a broad bandwidth. This is not an easy career, we’ve chosen. People see the photo shoots and the bloopers, the interviews and the red carpet. It looks so easy when they’re in the theater stuffing their faces with popcorn. We know it requires the constant firing of every synapse in our bodies through grueling days, weaving so much detail together on the spot, and adjusting to constant changes-set, wardrobe, spacing, lines. Plus, we have to tap into the deepest emotional parts of ourselves and our characters constantly. Remember: We had challenges on BoRhap. Sure now, we remember the glory and the fun – but there were tough times and we got through them.” Joe said.

Joe stopped talking. Ben nodded into his neck. He felt Ben heard him. His crying softened. Joe held him tightly and Ben leaned into Joe between his legs, wrapping his arms around Joe. And with that embrace, the rest of the world fell away for Joe-the trip, his agent, his family, his next projects, his home. All of it just faded out of focus. None of it mattered. Only Ben mattered.

Ben pulled away, taking a deep breath that coiled through his body. “I’m sorry. I know this isn’t what you signed up for when you thought ‘Great, let me visit Ben in Belfast as part of my European holiday.’ You didn’t think you’d find a blubbering, wrecked mess.” He wiped his nose on his sleeve.

Joe gazed at him. “I just wanted to be with you.” Ben’s swallowed deeply. Joe continued, “I feel like I’m always planning, trying to map out every part of my life. I’m always on my way to something new. But it doesn't matter, cause no matter where I go, every road just seems to lead me back to you. You’re the one I still want beside me.” (3)

They’re eyes locked, as they held each other’s arms.

Suddenly, Ben’s phone pinged and he broke from Joe to grab it off the kitchen table. “I have to be on set tomorrow at 11:00 a.m.”

“Good,” Said Joe. “You can sleep in.” Joe stood up “It’s late. We should hit the hay. I can just set up camp here.” He said, as he moved a tattered throw pillow to the arm of the couch.

“No,” Ben said, “Share the bed with me. Come on, you did it with Cardy B. Don’t make me jealous.”

They both laughed and moved to the back of the flat.

Joe cleaned up in the kitchen while Ben did his evening ablutions and got into bed. Joe grabbed his bag from the living room, prepared for bed and joined him soon after.

“Goodnight, Ben. Sleep well.” Joe said, as he settled into the soft bed and pillow.

Ben turned to look at Joe. “Goodnight, Joe. And thanks. Thanks for listening and calming me down. And for helping me focus. You have no idea how much it helped. I’m going to remember what you said. I feel like I might finally get a real night’s sleep. Finally.”

Joe smiled. “Of course. Glad I could help.” He thought about the advice he gave to Ben and realized it could apply to him too. He has it in him to deal with whatever happens-and he’ll get to the other side of it too.

They drifted off to sleep. Joe awoke in the middle of night, aware of movement beside him. Ben was rolling a bit and mumbling to himself. “Get to the other side….”

“You ok, Ben?” Joe asked him softy.

Ben didn’t respond, clearly asleep. Suddenly he rolled toward Joe and put his arm around him and spooned into him. “I love you.” Ben mumbled.

Joe leaned back against him. “And I.love.you.back.” he whispered.

SONG NOTES

(1) Days of Our Lives, Queen

(2) We are Young, Janelle Monáe

(3) Every Road Leads Back to You, Bette Midler

#borhap #bohemian rhapsody #ben hardy #ben hardy x joe mazzello #joe mazzello #borhap fandom #borhap boys #queen fanfiction #queen band #borhap fanfic #hardzello #borhap fan fiction

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happyhavnts · 4 years

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so, i tried my best to be as organized as possible and set up some event plots that i have fleshed out. if anything strikes your fancy, feel free to message me or if you’re just interested in working something out for the event in general, let me know.

BENJAMIN: Currently taking no one by choice

So here’s the skinny on Benjamin Parker. Right now the boy’s seriously deep in his feelings. He hasn’t been talking to his best friends since what happened on Valentine’s Day because he’s fearful that things are going to fall apart between the three of them. His ex that he’s still in love with, Morgan, has shown up. On top of that, he recently ran into his ex-boyfriend Sacha who abandoned him. He’s been bottling his feelings up for way too long and needs to find a healthy outlet for handling them. What is he doing instead ? Getting drunk.

He’s planning on leaving the dance early to drink so someone can join in on his pity party ? | open connection.

He needs to seriously open up to someone and allow himself to break down in front of someone | possibly reserved by Beau Pride.

Open to other ideas

ARIN: Going stag by choice

Arin was never a drinker before coming here so he’s definitely going to be drinking a bit to loosen himself up. He’s not too good around crowds but feels like he’s missed out on too much already in his life because of his fears and anxieties.

Plans to approach several people while drunk, who knows how things will turn out | Ben Solo and Oberon Hux.

Someone needs to eventually drag him out to dance a little bit | Bryn Dameron.

Open to other ideas

KIERAN: Planning on asking Charlotte

Dances were always one of Kieran’s favorite social events back home, but he’s never been to an event with so many mortals lurking about. Despite his distaste and aversion to mortals, he’s actually going to attempt to have a good time and focus on his time with Charlotte more than anything.

He’ll be in need of a wallflower buddy eventually to just take a moment to chill with | open connection.

Open to other ideas.

LIX: Going with Lucky

This dance is the best thing to happen to this town for Lix and he’s living for it. He’s so excited to make fancy clothing and help as a fashion consultant when he can. But, he also is allowing himself to get back to the basics and take some time for himself. He wants to focus on just having fun with both his best friend and steal his sister for at least a few dances.

Want to have a total Princess Diaries moment with a character transformation ? He’ll help you prep for the dance | open to anyone

Open to anything, I don’t have too much in mind for him

ELIA: Going with Jin

Elia has never been to a dance before so she is living it up. She wants to enjoy possibly everything she can and take it all in. After the two met on a rainy night, Jin asked her to go with him to treat her to a night out as a thank you for helping him.

Open to anything, feel free to come ask her to dance and have fun with her

EDEN: Hoping to be asked by Rick

It’s no secret the young witch has become quite enamored, so she’s been envisioning what the dance will be like ever since the moment she saw the flyer for it. She wants to embrace her inner girliness and just fret over simple things for once such as the right pair of shoes to match her dress.

Someone she hypes up at the dance and gives them to courage to approach a crush | open connection.

Open to other ideas.

POSIE: No date, open to being asked as friends or more

A kingdom of isolation and it looks like she’s the queen here. Crowded events have always caused her anxiety to spike but she is in desperate need of a distraction. She’ll spend the entirety fretting over the fear that her powers might start to act up because of building emotions.

Someone who can ease her mind and help her have some fun | open connection.

Open to other ideas.

WILOW: Going with her friends Frank and Brian

Time to hang with the bros. Though she’s honestly only going so she can stare at hot girls in their dresses.

Open to anything, I expect her to try and make some moves but she’d be down for playful flirting with anyone who looks her way.

CHRISTOPHER: Going with John

Ready for a night of awkward fun? Christopher may have just asked John out because they hooked up, but that doesn’t mean they can’t enjoy each other’s company ... right?

He’s a brat so he wants to test John a bit, so any guy who would be interested in dancing with him or stealing a few kisses. Hit me up. | open connection.

Open to anything.

ALEC: Going with Tempest

Mirror, mirror, on the wall ... who is the pettiest of them all? Oh, wait, wrong movie. But, the answer is still Alec and Tempest. Alec is only going because he wants to show off and spy on the mortals that are supposedly interesting. He hardly sees the value in anyone here but perhaps his viewpoint might change tonight.

Potential dance partners ? Specifically ones he can dance with and make someone else jealous. | Poppy Briar.

Potential hook ups ? Hyping his best friend up and finding her someone she deserves is going to be his main focus, but who says he can’t have a little fun on the side ? | open connection.

Anything else.

FLYNN: No date, open to being asked as friends or more

Flynn hasn’t ever been to a dance before but they’re out here to have a good time and not worry about anything else.

Chaotic pals ? Yes please. | Ace Jwa

Open to anything.

NICHOLAS: No date, open to asking anyone

As a prince, he’s used to attending balls but never one like this. He’s definitely being to be on the stiffer side of things but he’ll loosen up throughout the duration of the night. He’s mainly attending to keep an eye on his little sister.

Someone to lowkey obsess over through the night and get their attention | open connection.

Someone to be a bad influence on him and even coax him into hooking up | open connection.

Anything else.

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yang-xiao-bong · 5 years

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MORE WHITEROSE BUT THIS TIME AN AU IDEA

A not so original idea but whatever.

High school Au time:

Popular and Preppy!Weiss has always noticed the quiet brunette with red highlights...I mean how could she not? She had the prettiest silver eyes that shone like mirrors. But this was not how she envisioned properly introducing herself would go...

Everything about her day started normally, Winter had made them both breakfast before having to leave soon after, for work, she had walked to school happily soon being joined by her good friend Preppy!Pyrrha, but as they entered the school they see the red hoodie girl and Velvet being harassed by Cardin and his merry band of losers. She could see Pyrrha gritting her teeth at the sight, she never had liked bullies. Just as Weiss was about to go over and give the brute and his loser group a piece of her mind, a firm shout from up the hallway froze her in place.

"Hey, asshat! What do you think you're doing to my sister!?"

And of course it was Yang Xiao-Long resident self-proclaimed badass, and not so surprisingly she is followed by Coco Adel, Blake Belladonna and Ilia Amitola. At their appearance, Cardin's group of losers begin to disperse, well everyone but the dumbass himself. He even goes as far as to continue to push the silver-eyed girl and Velvet around. And while Weiss doesn't particularly get along with Xiao-Long, Weiss believes Yang deserves better than to get expelled because she murders the piece of trash that is Cardin Winchester. Even if he did deserve it. So Weiss does what any eloquent, future business owner would do...

She whacks him in the back of the head with her bag.

And of course, she gets detention. But luckily so does Cardin, thanks to two calm, (technically) non-biased statements from Belladonna and Pyrhha. Unsurprisingly Cardin glared at her the entire time, mumbling derogatory terms under his breath that Weiss couldn't care less about.

What was surprising about the situation was that the red hooded, silver-eyed wonder was waiting for her outside of Principal Ozpin's office. She gives Weiss a small, awkward and admittedly cute smile and outstretched her hand, and within her palm was a small keychain that must've fallen off her bag when she hit Winchester. Weiss herself gives her a gentle smile and carefully takes the charm in her own hands.

"Thank you, and I'm sorry about what happened with Cardin today, I'm also sorry for uh..well interfering the way I did, I-I didn't mean to make it a bigger deal-"

However, the silver-eyed cutie girl just shakes her head and gives Weiss the most genuine reassuring smile she's ever seen. Before bringing her hands up and moving her fingers across her palm and connecting her fingers occasionally. This leads Weiss to a small bought of confusion but after the red hoodied girl fidgets with her glasses Weiss finally understands what she's doing.

"O-oh. That's sign language, correct? I-I'm sorry I don't, I didn't understand what you said"

Weiss can't help but feel a little awkward, she wasn't quite accustomed to this type of situation. The brunette gives her another reassuring smile and nod before grabbing out her phone, tapping on it for a moment and then typing something up. And she smiles softly as she holds her phone out slightly, and in a typical robotic sounding voice her phone says,

"You don't have to apologize for anything, thank you for sticking up for me and Velvet. I have to say it was really surprising to see you act like that Weiss"

Weiss is surprised by that. This silver eyed beauty, cutie, girl, the girl she's been admiring from afar actually knows her name. Well, her heart now feels like it's about to burst out of her chest. And the brunette continues to smile softly at Weiss, before typing up,

"I just wanted to thank you in person, no one other than Yang, Blake and the gang really stick up for me, so it makes me really happy you did-"

She pauses for a moment before she continues,

"-and if you wanted to...well I was hoping maybe we could hang out sometime. Maybe read in the library or something."

She has a slight blush over her cheeks as the phone reads this aloud, making Weiss's own growing blush burn brighter. And Weiss in all her useless pansexual glory adorns a slightly goofy smile and nods weakly...that was the only confirmation her lovesick brain could give out apparently. Luckily for her, the silver eyed girl was happy to take that as enough, she even smiles brightly as gives Weiss a small piece of paper, which, when Weiss gives it a closer examination has her number on it. And with one small, adorable smile and fidget of her glasses the silver eyes beauty begins to walk down the hall before Weiss has a sudden realization.

"Wait! Um, I didn't get your name."

She turns back slightly, smiling happily, making her eyes shine with the reflection of Weiss in them. The version of Weiss she never thought she would ever see reflected in another person's eyes. A Weiss that could quite possibly be a true future for herself. The brunette finished typing out her response in the time of Weiss's inner reflection,

"My name is Ruby. Ruby Rose. And I'll see you later Weiss"

And with one last sweet smile, one that forced her to close her gorgeous eyes, she turned and headed out to the parking lot, most likely where Xiao Long and Belladonna are waiting for her. Weiss can't help but stand there star struck, clutching the small paper to her rapidly beating chest. Smiling an undoubtedly goofy looking smile, while she reflects on the events of the day.

While it wasn't exactly how she expected their introduction to go, she was definitely happy with the overall result. And while she isn't quite sure yet where everything may lead her, there was one thing she knew for sure.

Ruby Rose is definitely going to be the death of her. In the best ways possible.

*And that's it*

Side Note(s): first of all, Happy Pride Month y'all! While at first, I was hoping to have this done earlier, I'm kind of happy to have it posted now. Feels appropriate.

and, for anyone wondering Ruby in this AU is mute by choice, I had a justified reason but I didn't feel like adding it in because it didn't exactly feel relevant to the whole reason I made the idea. Also once again HAPPY PRIDE MONTH!!!!

#rwby #rwby7 #yang xiao long #ruby rose #weiss schnee #whiterose #bumblebee #bumbleby #velvet scarlatina #coco adel #lgbt #crosshares

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hisgirlwonder · 5 years

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Unheavenly Creatures (Jim Mason x Reader)

Length: 3.2K words Warning: Smut which fulfils a lot of kinks such as public/library sex, sleeping-with-best-friends-brother, masturbation, etc Synopsis: You’ve been given an assignment in class and the teacher decided to pair you up with your best friends brother and class stoner, Jim Mason, which means a lot of time spent with someone who prefers to study the female body. Notes: This has been bugging me for SO LONG and I couldn’t stop thinking about the idea the last few days (hopefullyyyy this is okay and ps. if you’re following my fics HoW pt. 4 will be out next)

The irony of it all had yet to evade you. You’d been paired up with your best friend’s brother for your latest project and it should be a walk in the park, right? Wrong. It was a joke to you and Medina but both for different reasons.

Jim and you were complete opposites when it came to school. He’d often show up late with a lingering scent of Mary Jane coating him and glazed eyes to match; not to mention his grades weren’t fantastic. You, on the other hand, were the perfect student. The answer to the question of why you had to be paired with Jim remained a mystery.

“Em, I just can’t be-“

The conversation is brought to a halt when Jim appears out of nowhere and widens the gap between the two of you; forcing himself between your bodies as you and Medina are talking over lunch. He wraps an arm around your shoulders and Medina’s, first looking at her and then at you.

“Hello, darling twin, hello wonderful partner. How are you beautiful ladies doing?”

“Hi, Jim. Sorry, I’m just going to go for a walk. Em, I’ll see you later, okay?”

You couldn’t leave the two of them fast enough and walk away in the direction of your favourite spot, behind the auditorium. Once they’re alone, Medina warns him not to spend all the time trying to butter you up or making you laugh – naturally he ignores what she’s saying, more intrigued as to whether or not you actually thought he was funny.

“Jim Mason, how many times do I need to tell you that you need to take your classes more seriously? Mom and dad would be mad if they knew how little you cared.”

“As far as mom and dad are concerned, I will pass. The more important question at hand, dear Medina, is whether or not Y/N thinks I’m funny.”

Medina rolls her eyes in a less than impressed fashion with his preoccupation. He’s had a thing for you since day one and Medina knows this. She also knows how he is with girls and doesn’t know whether or not he’d do the same thing to you. Jim jokes about you needing something to relax because you work so hard but Medina doesn’t find it funny because if there’s one thing she cares about besides her family, it’s you. Her brother feels the intensity behind the stare and backs off, telling her he’s going to give more of a shit.

“I’m bored and Y/N isn’t here to butter up. Maybe I should go and find her.” He winks in provocation and leaves the seating area in search of other friends. Medina decides that she might go and have a look for you to continue the conversation from earlier before the interruption.

It didn’t take her long to find you because you were always in the same spot when you needed a moment. Behind the auditorium was a special spot for both of you because that’s where you met and nobody else went there so it was nice and quiet.

Sympathetic glances are exchanged before she sits herself next to you on the bench. Medina leans her head on your shoulder like she often does and the comforting heaviness of her head leaning on you was relaxing; unfortunately, not enough to take away the stress of the situation at hand.

“Are you going to write about the disgusting diet of pizza and marijuana my brother lives on in the weekends?”

You can’t help but laugh at her remark. Trust her to make you feel better.

“That wasn’t my plan but if my original idea doesn’t work then I might give yours a go.”

“God, I can’t do this.”

Jim’s inability to concentrate and continue the song he was working on gets the better of him. He puts his guitar back in the stand before flopping onto his bed to lay on his stomach. He reaches into his pocked to pull out his phone and look through Instagram out of boredom. The first post to appear was one of Medina’s and it happened to be you and her together. Of course seeing your face causes Jim to waste no time in trawling through your page but being careful not to accidentally “like” one of your photos when he’s 48 weeks deep.

You were the kind of girl who didn’t exactly flash what you had but there were a handful of pictures of you in some scantly items; Halloween last year with Medina after the two of you had first met, your own birthday party, the Girls holiday in Hawaii. Nothing too outrageous because that wasn’t your style, however, that didn’t stop Jim from drooling over the miniscule amount of flesh you were showing.

Jim has a lightbulb moment and searches through Medina’s photos on her Facebook page to find more – just as he suspects, Medina as a whole folder dedicated to you. He’s not sure why he hasn’t done it earlier but being within touching distance of you had triggered him.

Then, there it is. The one picture that sets him over the edge. You and Medina were hanging out with your friends, Duncan and Michael, and Duncan had thrown a bucket of water over you/ Michael had been taking photos on Medina’s camera at the time and to anyone else this would have seemed like a harmless photo but to Jim, and his sexual deprivation, seeing the wet fabric cling to your curves caused an urge he could no longer hold back.

Medina knew Jim was attracted to you but she didn’t realise just how much. Jim had slept with girls but ever since you’d met, he always ended up picking ones that bear a striking resemblance to you. The last few months he’d given up because it just wasn’t the same. He found it lacklustre and disappointing when these beautiful women, both younger and older than him, would appear in his bed and he knew that their bodies didn’t move with the way yours would. Jim kept going back because it was better than nothing until one day he gives up.

He checks the door is shut before manoeuvring his hand inside his underwear so it’s cupping his dick, wrapped around the shaft and begins to fuck it. His eyes are closed so he can disappear into the moment completely. He envisions you beneath him, legs wrapped around his hips with your feet interlocked on his lower back. His cock is coated with so much slick that it is easy to feel like his own extremity was actually your warm, tight cunt.

Jim digs the fingers on his free hand into the pillow he’s propped up on because the feeling is intense and he gets so lost in it he can almost feel you beneath him. He’s breathing hot and heavy breaths and as he gets closer and closer he’s unable to hold back the noise - his face falls into the pillow as hits the point of orgasm and moans loudly into it.

Medina is stood outside making some smart ass come back after she’s cleaned up in retaliation from earlier and Jim jumps at the sound of her voice because he was too wrapped up in his own thoughts. Pulling his hand out of his underwear to reach over and grab a tissue off his nightstand, he tries to yell at his sister to piss off but his voice cracks under the exertion.

Five weeks into the project and still nothing. Jim had teased you, shot flirty comments your way, but that was the extent of it. Both you and your vibrators were growing tired (one had to be replaced because you’d used it too much) and part of you wondered if this was just normal Jim Mason behaviour to have a girl eating out of the palm of his hand. Little do you know, he’d been forcing himself to hold back and you were the contents of his wank bank - he was getting so desperate that he bought something to help him along. Since being in your presence for almost a month and a half, he’d gone from wanking once a day to morning, afternoon, and night or more.

The two of you were due to meet at the library today at 6:00pm because tonight was a late night; figuring you’d take advantage because the both of you were busier earlier. You arrive there on time but it was 6:15pm when Jim decides to show up.

“Don’t you know it’s rude to be late?”

“To what, a study session? This isn’t a date, Y/N.” He teased.

You felt your cheeks burn with embarrassment as he walks up the steps beside you, holding the door open for you to walk through.

“I’ve got something to help you relax anyway.”

You didn’t bother to ask him when you were walking down to the computer room what he meant because you’d probably end up going around in circles as you’d learned he had a tendency of doing.

The two of you get settled into your studying and you wondered if Medina had actually gotten into him because he seemed as if he wanted to actually work. You figured now was the time to ask him what he meant but to your question his eyes stayed on the book in front and held his finger to his mouth to hush you.

You were shocked at the sudden turnaround and felt like the creep when catching yourself lusting over the way his chest would rise and fall with each breath or the movement of his lips. You were beginning to feel like he could tear the flesh from your bones with his teeth and you’d say thank you.

Jim becomes too obvious in his pursuit of your relaxation and breaks the sudden good boy behaviour to rest his hand on one of your exposed. Your body begins to swell, heat blazing in the thick of your thighs from just a simple touch. He grips at the inner parts of your thigh; squeezing it after he hears you make a noise. Despite being the first time he’d laid hands on you, and it wasn’t much at all, nothing felt foreign to you.

Both of you turn heads to catch the glance of the other momentarily but quickly turn away to hide that he’s beginning to unwrap you. He changes what he’s doing and moves his fingers in a walking motion up the inner part of your leg. You want to snap them shut because he was your best friends brother and you didn’t need a distraction but the want for him overpowered you. He creeps closer and closer to your underwear, mouth to your ear to tease you while you struggle reading over the notes you had in front of you. As if you had a choice.

“You don’t fool me for a second, YN.”

His nose sweeps across your face to move your hair with it - pushing it back behind your ear so you had nothing stopping you from taking in what he was saying.

“I can feel your frustration. I know how exhausted you are trying to fight this.”

His hand that travelled up your thigh now rubs the fabric covering your slit and you can feel your nipples harden from selfish want. The breath warm over your neck breath sends shivers over the surface of your skin and you’re waiting for him to continue on with his speech but he stays tight-lipped. Jim pushes the underwear you’re wearing to one side and then uses a finger to trail along the valley between your thighs. Jim’s eye contact has yet to break; stuck on you, the sight of your mouth opening as you breathe in bated breaths. Your strength can only hold back so many moans but you began to slip, sounds escaping your mouth. You quickly throw your hands up to cover your mouth and Jim notices what just happened; lowly growling for you to not be such a good girl while he’s slipping fingers inside and proving you’re anything but.

Jim places his thumb on your clit while his index and middle fingers are inside and the way he touches you feels like magic; sending you into a state where you no longer cared. You throw all caution into the wind, pushing the books from the table and pray nobody sees what is happening.

The both of you are messy in your movements because Jim starts to kiss you and you regress into the teenager who had just discovered masturbation for the first time. Greedy, salacious, and lewd in your own contempt towards your surroundings. You hold him back long enough and to sit on the surface of the table but he’s like a rabid dog and can’t get between your thighs fast enough. His hands' fumble trying to get the soaked piece of clothing off of your body because he’s so eager and eventually he does get there - throwing them to the side as if they were garbage; unneeded, unwanted, and he never wanted to see them again.

His mouth doesn’t waste a second and heads directly for your bud while his fingers fuck you. You thought to yourself he must have done this a thousand times because his tongue hits every spot, even ones you didn’t know you had. You came effortlessly and, for once, without the use of one of your toys. This was different. It felt like he’d planned this - how he wanted to move, how you were going to feel - and maybe God did grant him access to your Heaven’s gate when he saw how meticulous Jim had become for the first time in his life.

You both rise to your feet and instead of seeing him wiping away his mouth like most men do, he pulls you in for a passionate kiss; a kiss that barely even touched the surface of how he felt about you. The taste and scent of you on him drove you wild. He guides his fingers back inside, caressing every part, and you were gagging for more. You respond in kind by pulling his hair (probably harder than he’s used to) and he just looks you at you with lust-filled eyes, waiting for your next movement.

“Fuck me,” you whine. You felt desperate and it probably looked ugly but you didn’t care.

“You’re an eager girl, aren’t you? I don’t have anything with me.”

“You should know me well enough, Jim Mason, that my organisational skills extend further than just school.”

Jim tries to remain cool, acting as if the thought of fucking you raw didn’t drive him insane, but you could see it across his face and in his movements to follow.

He moves fast to undo his belt and pants and then yank down his underwear. You pull him in with your legs wrapped around his body, and he can’t get inside fast enough. The moment he slides in, you let out a gasp; he filled you entirely and was thicker than you thought; your pussy stretched by the girth of his fat cock.

You’re pulled in by desperate arms from this being who was trying to become as close to you as possible. His arms are supporting your lower back, making sure you don’t fall (because apparently, he’s a gentleman?) and you both become lost. You thought after the first time you came that anything else would almost be muted, nearly unnoticeable, but you were wrong. You had to kiss him and moan into his mouth as you did so otherwise, you would have bitten the flesh from his shoulder or your own arm.

Jim can’t hold back either and soon after he mumbles in your mouth, signalling he’s going to cum very soon as well. You break the kiss and instruct for him to get onto the table because you have a plan of your own. You let him sit where you were so it’s not cold and as he’s sitting down, plant a kiss on his shoulder, then stand between his legs with the swollen member in your grip.

“Are you ready, Jim Mason?”

Jim looks down at you, brows furrowed because he’s oh so close to exploding everywhere and your pretty manicured hands look so good around his cock. His teeth sink into his lower lip and he groans in agreeance through the crack between his teeth and his pretty, plump lips. You take him in your mouth before driving the length straight down your throat once, then twice, and travelling back up to the tip. Your hand wraps around the base, pumping it in a sporadic rhythm and you tease the outer rim of the head with your tongue as you look upwards.

Jim slams his hands down to dig his fingers into the edge of the table and tries to thrust into your mouth. You know he’s ready to blow but won’t let him and instead slide off very slowly with your sights on him to see what he does, and he can’t take any more. As you hoped, your head is forced down so far until you gag and shoots his load down your throat. Your eyes still on him as you’re sliding off but once you’ve fully removed his softening erection, you close your lids and swallow the contents of your mouth in satisfaction followed by licking the remnants off your lips as if he’d fed you.

Jim breathlessly comments how he didn’t take you for the swallowing type and you bite back with a remark that there is a lot he doesn’t know about you. He raises an eyebrow at you with a look you’ve seen many times before. Behind his boyish charm and good looks lies a devil in disguise. “I look forward to finding it all out, Y/N.”

“You know, this isn’t going to happen all the time,” You tried to correct him because you could read him like a book. The two of you got lost in the heat of the moment and you want to make it clear but he wouldn’t listen.

Jim knew from the way your body reacted that there was another story you weren’t wanting to read; about yourself; one where you knew that nobody else had that effect on your body – any efforts to achieve those kinds of orgasms with another human besides the boy-turned-man you saw before you were fruitless. Jim palms one of your rather flushed cheeks and kisses your forehead.

“That’s what you say now.”

“I’m serious, Jim. Em-“

“My sister doesn’t need to know. It’ll be our little secret.”

Taglist: @avesatanormalpeoplescareme @sensitivethot @sacredlangdon @wroteclassicaly @moltenskeleton @langdonsdemon @sammythankyou @queencocoakimmie @violett124 @1-800-bitchcraft @americanhorrorstudies @your-daddy-langdon @ticklish-leafy-plant @michaellangdong

#ttopv #ttopv smut #ttopv fanfic #the tribes of palos verdes #the tribes of palos verdes smut #the tribes of palos verdes fanfic #jim mason #jim mason x reader #jim mason x yn #jim mason x you #i hope you liked the little duncan and michael mention ;)))#fanfic #writing

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nowitsdarkfic · 4 years

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chapter eighteen (cry for the indian winter)

“Slipping through the wasted ground, you’re so full of it. All the way and down and out, such a hypocrite.” -”Powertrip”, Joey Belladonna (better known as that one song that makes St. Anger look like child’s play I shit you not)

December 21, 1988. Seattle, Washington.

Nirvana's set lasted about twenty minutes and then afterwards, we returned to the hydrogen car and headed on back to Seattle, which is now in fully bathed in that blue neon even though the sun hasn't set behind the veil of clouds over our heads yet. Riding all the way back to Belltown, I can't stop thinking about that little three piece band. I can envision them and Soundgarden going places in the world. I don't know where they'll go from here but I'm sure it'll be good.

The neon is even brighter than ever as we enter the little town of Sea-Tac. And then it hits me.

“Do either of you ladies know if there's a recording studio here in the southern part of the city?” I ask Sonia and Marcia.

“There is one,” Marcia recalls, her tone of voice unsure. “It's—” She gasps. “—right down here! Turn off, Sonia!”

Sonia takes this next exit, interestingly on the left side, leading us off the freeway into this rather dim lit and cold looking neighborhood in the southern part of Seattle. The pavement on the street is rough and rugged dotted with the occasional pothole. The golden lights lining the street are shining into the car as we're moving along the road here. Aside from the few glints of neon here and there on the sides of the brick houses lining the street, everything reminds me of the little industrial looking neighborhoods in New York City, or better yet, Wellesley or Oswego. This is the one part of Seattle that hasn't stepped into the world of the future.

At least I hope I isn't.

I have my doubts about the cybernetic world to our right due to the fact Lars is feeling better in terms of pain, but I also have to bear in mind that my best friend is in the hospital back home in New York because of what I assume to be from all of this. It's a definite suggestion but I can't say anything for sure yet. Lars and I still have to make my way into the heart of the city in order to check it all out. I figure it can't be that much of a walk for us and if we get any looks, we can merely use the excuse that we were two of the hockey players who challenged those cyborgs the day before. It's not really an excuse as it is the actual truth, but whatever.

Sonia pulls up to a stoplight and I peer out the window next to Spence and Lars. It's still quiet here, much too quiet to be anything anywhere remotely to a city. At least the City back East and Boston have a lot more nightlife to their fabric than all of this: this almost bothers me, like I wonder where all the people have vanished to when no one was looking. I peer out the windshield at the red light and Sonia glancing about the intersection.

“Seriously?” says Spence.

“I know, right?” Sonia agrees with him, looking both ways again. “There is literally no one here!”

I catch the view of a street cleaner crossing the intersection right in front of us, crawling at a cautious but firm pace like one of those big desert tortoises. It reaches the right side of the intersection, and attaches itself onto the storm drain, and that's when the light turns green.

“Seriously,” Spence repeats as we roll forward.

“I guess so?” Marcia replies with a shrug of her shoulders. We pass under a wrought iron overpass even though the only other road to be seen is the freeway and we didn't even go underneath that. I peer out the window at the sight of it, at the rich navy blue sky on the other side of it: the arches and the inside of it all form into this intricate web of crosses, each of them the exact size and the exact perfect square shape. It's like a tapestry, a heavy metal tapestry that's about to light up in silver and pure gold for the night. This part of town is still within the twentieth century and I want to keep it that way. I don't ever want it to turn into the glowing blue and green monster that's nearby.

Although Lars is feeling better! That little bottle of sparkly black sludge shit that dissolved in pure water is a miracle medicine for intense pain.

No! I can't forget Brick! This industry is killing him!

Ugh. Fuck.

I only feel like recording my voice and then seeing if I can find people to play some instruments for me seeing as I can't afford a guitar or a piano of my own right now.

Sonia veers off to the side of the road, right up next to the curb before a low slate building that resembles somewhat to a fire house.

“Is this where Alice in Chains recorded their demos?” Lars asks her from right next to me.

“This is the place,” she answers, tugging on the parking lever and switching off the hydrogen underneath us.

I climb out first into the chilly afternoon: there's a cold wind emerging off of the nearby Puget Sound and I can make out the first plumes of lake effect type snow floating up from behind the low skyline of Sea-Tac. Or maybe it's just chimney smoke.

I just want to do what I do best because this is killing me.

I close my coat right as Marcia and Sonia climb out of the front seat in unison; the former shows me a friendly little smile and a lick of her lips. Yeah, yeah, we had lunch yesterday and she's definitely dialed back her advances towards me in the wake of it, but I guess it's still within her. I'll never forget the day she kissed me in the upholstery shop.

She shuffles over to me with her hands stuffed inside of her coat pockets.

“I didn't tell you,” she starts in a hushed voice, “watching you and the guys play against those robots yesterday was hot as hell.”

“You actually think so?”

“Yeah. Watching you on your skates with that stick outstretched before you… it was quite the sight to see. You sure know how to move about a hockey rink.”

I shrug my shoulders at her as a gust of wind picks up a piece of her hair and tosses it right into her round face.

“Been doing it for almost twenty years,” I explain to her. “Some days it's like just another day at the office, you know?”

“That's how Sonia feels sometimes,” she answers.

“Huh?” Sonia joins in from behind her.

“Nothing,” she brushes her off.

“Oookay—anyways, the front door is right around the side here, Joe.”

“Alright. And all you guys come on in here, too—I think it's gonna rain soon.”

“Might even snow,” Marcia adds.

“Seattle gets snow?” Spence seems genuinely surprised by that.

“Occasionally, yeah,” she continues, “Portland gets it more, though. You guys oughta talk to Matt and or Chris about the times flurries have fallen up here.”

I lead the way to the right side of this building and from the dim light from the street and the afterglow of the city, I spot the door right down the wall from us. It really is like a fire house.

I push open the door to reveal a pitch dark room: I grope at the wall to my right and feel the light switch.

To the left of me is a rough looking brick wall lit up by a series of exposed long light bulbs shining golden light over the floor. Up against the wall is a plush dark brown corduroy couch and a low black wooden table topped with a ridiculously tall stack of cassette tapes. Over my head is the low hanging, cold looking smooth metal ceiling held up by narrow arches. I keep looking onward to find that we're underneath a balcony: out in the open is a vast cold concrete floor with nothing more than a single brass colored rug in the shape of an eye and a small spindly black stool right in the middle of it. To the right is some kind of silvery radiator looking thing with a thick black pipe coming out of it and attached to the wall: there's our heat.

Meanwhile, there's something hanging from the ceiling.

I stride on over to it only to find that it's a microphone. Right behind the radiator is the sound board, heavy, cumbersome, and the color of old brass. I put my fingers around the head of the microphone to better examine the silvery grating on it.

Lars darts past me towards the sound board. I watch him duck down behind it, only to emerge within a few seconds with a pair of head phones.

“Oughta get a drum kit in here,” Spence calls out from under the balcony.

“I'll ask James and Kirk if there's any way we can get some guitar work on here,” Lars assures me with a wink and a smile.

“We can ask Chris, Kim, Hiro, and Matt, too, if they're willing,” I add to him with a sly grin. Guess this is my own private studio now.

I open my mouth and let out a low growl from the base of my throat. I set a hand on my stomach to feel my muscles relaxing.

I breathe in and think about Maya and Brick. Then I catch the sound of the rain beginning to pound on the roof over our heads. I raise my voice using the help of my stomach muscles. I'm trying to sound louder than the rain.

It's the winter solstice. The darkest day of the year.

I feel the cold darkness around me, only to be accentuated by the golden light behind me. I feel it within me. I feel the darkness in my soul, the crystals of cold rising up from the frigid earth and making their stay inside of my bones. There's something burning and roaring around inside of me, like an old flame that's been buried alive and all but forgotten by the world. This flame is alive and well within me, within this body of mine.

I figure that Lars, Chris, Kim, and I all have ancient roots. I'm Indian and Italian; meanwhile, Kim is other kind of Indian. Meanwhile, Lars hails from a kingdom rich in its own rite. But then there’s Chris, his eyes bearing a primeval soul much older than Lars and me glued together. I think about the solemn look on his face and hearing the power and the prowess within his voice. He's the one with the tie into the rest of the universe.

I have him firmly in mind as I take out the notepad from the inner pocket of my coat. Lars messes around with some of the dials and the buttons on the sound board over there: it's old fashioned but sometimes we have to in order to get shit done. He points a finger at me and that's my cue to go forth with this raw demo.

And I sing my heart out, like crying for the Indians. The cold metal and stone that surrounds me makes my voice sound hollow and lifeless but I can always do it again. It's just technically me after all. I put all my strength from my stomach and the lower side of my belly into my voice to where I think I almost sound like I'm crying.

I'm crying for the winter and the burgeoning cyberworld that's leaving me with a choice: to embrace the fact it's helping Lars or remember that it might the thing that kills Maya, Brick, and myself. I come to a song I tentatively titled “Wake Me”, about all the times I lay awake in bed staring up at the ceiling and feeling the ghosts around me, and I bring the microphone right up to my mouth for more feeling. I close my eyes and sing it out, as loud as I can, to where my hips and my chest begin hurting. It's all coming out from somewhere, from somewhere so deep.

I'm in there singing for about an hour until I reach the end of the notes. Lars then pushes a button and claps at me in standing ovation.

I have my hands right on my stomach. I need to spit. Fuck. I don't think I ever sang at such a guttural level in my life.

“Oh, Jesus, you okay?” Lars stops and gapes at me.

“I sang too hard,” I reply to him, my voice breaking. My voice is gone and I'm in agony.

“Let's get him something,” suggests Sonia and I feel her right behind me. I can hardly stand up it hurts so much.

I'm in trouble now.

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eerythingisshaka · 6 years

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Death of a Bachelor

(Erik Killmonger POV)

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: sSmutSs, fuckboyness

A/N: Possible new series? So hear me out, this was inspired by the movie Alfie, the Michael Caine version is the only one I seen. But Erik is going to experience four, maybe five women, each very different from the next. He’s having fun with them but at some point he’s going to have to tighten up on some of his ways, whether it’s with a lucky lady from the five, or by his damn self. I also just wanted to do a smut since I haven’t in a minute and no one is gettin any in my series’ (also I may have some residual hormones that I can’t work out right now because nature doesn’t want me to have any pleasure this week, so I’m getting it out here). The one time my mama asks me what I’m writing about and it’s THIS, smh. First POV of a character, so hopefully his spirit comes across here.

I swear God had a sense of humor making a nigga like me. The average man woulda been shot his on brains out with the bullshit I have had to deal with in my life. I’m not goin into all my childhood shit right now, that psychology and repressed emotions bull never rocked with me for real. Nah, I’m talkin bout my life right here, right now. People just won’t leave me the hell alone!

So boom, it’s like this. I like to take care of myself. I do my cardio every Monday, Wednesday, Saturday. That can be runnin, boxin, some P90X or whatever the fuck to keep me on my toes. I do weight training Tuesday, Thursday, Friday, doublin up when I feel like it with my cardio days; lightwork, you feel me? All that to say ya boy is stacked. You couldn’t put no more muscle on this 6’0 frame if you tried, took a damn long time but I finally got my shit filled out right.

And I’m proud of my shit, gotta double back by the mirror every so often just to catch myself lookin. I ain’t narcissistic or nothin, but fuck you if you think I should be humble, I earned this.

I say all that to say it’s funny how people think they entitled to your time just because you give em some dick every other visit. Females will tell you different, but they just as thirsty as niggas these days. I go out the gym, fresh from a shower in my wife beater and sweats, right? I got my shades on cuz I’m not tryna socialize, just get my protein powder and jet.

What they do? Stare at me walkin past the produce section, holdin they bananas in a daze, fuckin me with they eyes! On one hand, I’m cool with it, like I said I work for this body to be admired. Bitches love feelin on my stomach and chest while I dig them out, clawing my back when my shit too deep for em. But then I say good morning, and they ass wanna look at me funky and go about they business! Like I bothered them with some eye fuckin! Bitch if you don’t go on somewhere witcho thirsty ass! Maybe my approach is off, but fuck that, I know what you were thinkin bout, and that don’t require much introduction to get to.

That’s a good sign for me though, cuz I know they gon run off to they little friends talking bout, “Girl, this fine ass nigga said Hi to me at the grocery store today. Bitch, I hope I see him again, I might have to fuck him right on the tomatoes!” I know them! They act proud, but they don’t wanna come off hoeish.

Lemme see you be a hoe! I cannot stress that enough! There’s an artform to it though, don’t go comin up on me, rubbin my ass and whisperin in my ear (depends on the location and time of day though for that). Shit, come up to me and say hi for once! Being the aggressor gets tired after a while. See, when a baby girl come up to me, smilin all confident and shit like she holdin the meanin to life between her legs, askin me who I am and what she wants, NIGGA! You ain’t said nothin but a word, ma!

That’s how I got involved with this one girl, Venice, like that town in Italy. She a real cute redbone, bout 5’5 wears these red bottom heels everyday (at least she has em one whenever I see her...never takes em off). She work as a paralegal, so she gotta wear blazers, skirts, or pantsuits, which I don’t always find sexiest but the way she gets em tailored to her body, whew man, it’s almost porno levels of ridiculous but that’s just cuz how thicc she is. Bitch can’t help it!

I go to this deli shop on lunch sometimes and she was in line with her phone glued to her eyeballs, so I knew she wasn’t wantin to be fucked around with. I respect a woman’s boundaries, you ain’t gotta tell me twice to go the fuck on somewhere. But tell me why when I’m pickin up pastrami on rye, ready to smash that thing I hear her behind me talkin bout, “I took you as more of a footlong type of guy.” If that ain’t no damn innuendo I don’t know what the fuck is. I’m lookin at her like she gotta be jokin, but damn her with that fuckin smile. She smelt good too, like coconut and fresh laundry, she was clean clean. She tried to hide her lil joke talmbout “I meant you so look like you workout, your meal just don’t match the appetite I envisioned.” So I ask her if she been envisioning in more ways than one and that got her cackling real quick, touchin on me like we old classmates reuniting. Long story short, we exchanged numbers and I get a text at the end of the day askin me to pull up to her job and next thing I know, we fuckin on her desk. She loud as fuck too. The building seemed like it was cleared out but damn, the police coulda been called for all she was doin. The pussy was fire though, almost had me losin my shit. She keeps it clean, except for some hair across the top of her pussy like a toupee. She likes to ride it though, that probably has to do with her profession, wantin power over people. Soon as she start cummin though, she a damsel in distress needin her Superman to finish things off.

So I been fuckin with her for a little over a month now. It’s real causal, we meet more after dark than in the daytime. It’s fun, I ain’t had to jackoff too much cuz she seems to work with my shit like circadian rhythm or whatever. Soon as I felt my shit gettin hard, my phone light up.

Tonight wasn’t no different. I was working out late that night, finishing a couple of miles on the treadmill when a notification interrupts my music. I look at my phone and it’s a picture of her hand spreading her pussy lips out. Damn, purple and pink were my favorite colors. I had to hit the emergency stop so I didn’t bust my face on the machine. I let her know I would be there in a hour, she says to make it 30 minutes.

This is when I have a problem with her, she think she run me! If I tell her I can’t come today, she says she can help with that. I tell her I’m tired, she say I don’t have to do shit but lay there. I was outta town once, and she still not satisfied until I get her on FaceTime so she can see me jackoff while she play with herself. If it didn’t turn me on so damn much, I’d drop her for good.

So, after I shower and start heading to my car, she text me with this address I don’t know. When I Googled, it led me to some condo on the other side of town. I asked her what this was about and the bitch left me on read. Fuck outta here with that shit. I ain’t Scooby Doo, and I don’t feel like solvin mysteries. Fuck I look like?!

But my dumbass follows the scent of hot n ready pussy soon as it pops up, so I go and whatever. Place look like the fuckin Powerpuff Girls live here, doin the absolute most for one woman to be livin in by herself.

When I go knockin on her front door, it just opens on its own like a haunted house. I peek in, bout to call her lame ass for tellin me an address I don’t know about, tryna get a Black man killed, I hear her voice.

“Come on in, baby.”

I stepped my ass in there real slow, checkin my peripherals until I saw her sittin on the couch in some see through robe lookin at her fireplace. I coulda busted concrete with the hard on I got lookin at her. Those titties, nigga, sittin up under her chin practically, just overflowin she so big.

“What’re you standin there like you seen a ghost. Come sit like you got some kind of sense.”

“What you got the front door open like that for?” I asked her, sittin next to her.

“I knew you were coming by. I don’t feel like getting up if I don’t have to.” She takes a bottle of Hennessy from the table in front of us and pours two glasses, handing me one of em.

I take a sip, nursing my drink. “You tryna be a pillow princess tonight or sumthin? Wantin me to do all the work?” I asked her. I couldnt help but reach out to feel that ass through her robe but she smacked my hand.

“Not like that, Erik! I want you to finish that drink, and maybe another. I want to be entertained a little more than usual tonight.” She knocked back her drink quicker than a jackrabbit on a date. She set her drink down, scooching over closer to me. I couldn’t keep my eyes off them damn titties! She started rubbin the inner part of my leg and I took the Henny down, you feel me!

She poured me another drink and started talkin all general about my day and shit. I wasn’t giving her nothin but one word answers cuz I was startin to get a lil lit off of the drink and she kept playin in my hair, kissin my neck and shit. I was tired of tellin her to chill out with alldat cuz I damn sure was ready to teach her ass some fuckin manners.

So I grab her thigh and pull her big ass over my lap, giving them cheeks a Jaws of Life-ass squeeze. I heard her gasp from my strength, she love that shit.

“Erik, hang on-” She try and say but I ain’t wantin to hear her mouth. I slip my hand in her panties and started washing my hands, her shit was like a faucet with that drip. I knew she was ready, think she playin with somebody.

“Fuck a ‘hang on’. Hang on these nuts, what you finna do.” I was bout to be in my element! Pussy poolin and I was finna dive, my nigga! Next thing I know my hair gettin pulled and yanked backward, hurt like a muthafucka.

“Damn Venice! What the fu-”

She took my hand and licked them off all slow. I felt her tongue dancing on my fingertips before she pinned my hand back.

“I really, really, love it when you’re rude, Erik. I do! But when I tell you to hold on, you say ‘yes ma’am’, remember?”

She pullin that dominance shit again. I ain’t on no punk shit, let the record show. But if this moves things along, then, “Yes ma’am.”

Then the damn doorbell rings! “Finally!” Venice gets up for the door, walkin all fast.

“Who the fuck are you expectin?” I’m gettin loud with her cuz I didn’t sign up for none of this shit. I was supposed to soak my wood and dip, she be extra but this on some other shit.

She turns around and puts her a finger to her mouth at me before opening the door. Some blonde girl comes through the door sayin Hi and huggin Venice like this a tea party. So, I’m sittin on the couch waiting for them to finish and her to leave, but Venice walks Jennifer Lawrence lookin clown into the living room.

“Erik, this is-”

“I don’t need to know her name, I need to know when she leavin.” I’m heated! My dick gettin soft by the minute, but Venice and her friend is unphased.

Venice starts playin in her hair and they start gigglin. “She’s here to keep us company. She’s fun, I think you both would do well with each other.”

Nigga, when she said this, I wondered if she spiked my damn drink or some bullshit. “I don’t associate with white folks Venice, stop wastin my time so we can do what I came over for.”

“That’s why Abbigayle is here! She wanted to meet you and-”

“You tellin bitches about me? Talkin behind my back?! I ain’t a damn gossip topic, fuck is your problem! I don’t fuck white bitches either, so you can just step ABBA!” I was ready to pack my happy ass up and go. Too many females on this planet to be strung up on one dummy.

“ERIK! I’m not going to be interrupted again! You’re making me lose my patience, that isn’t going to go over well for you. Be nice!”

I said already I ain’t no punk, right? And I meant that shit. But I ain’t never one to fuck up a good time, fuckin is fuckin, so let’s just see what happens. “Yes ma’am.”

Venice liked that, she instantly walked all slow and sexy over to me tellin me good job and shit, kissin on me. For a second I forgot about Abracadabra but then I feel an extra pair of hands at my lap and I see her unbuttoning my pants. Venice tooks my face back to look at her; she is really fuckin beautiful, I can’t even lie on that. Her lips felt like when you ain’t had Starburst in a while, and the first one in the line is a Pink or a Red, nigga her lips juicy as fuck and I didn’t want her to stop puttin em on me.

So we makin out on the couch and Abacus got my dick out and starts lickin and kissin my shit like it’s a damn bomb pop. That’s cute and all if I rock with you, but if I don’t know you like that? You just playin, show me what the hell that mouf do so I can hae somethin to talk to the homies bout later.

Venice gets off the couch and sits across the room in a chair, leaving her leg over the arm so her legs are spread out. I finally was gettin hard again, poor Abilify probably thought I was gettin there from her hen peckin round my shaft. Nah, I couldn’t hold back seeing Venice sittin there like she ain’t give an entire fuck that some random bitch was suckin my dick! Like, she ain’t been shy about what she likes in the bedroom but fuck, this was some new shit she pullin out on me.

When Venice took off her bra to let them titties hang on her stomach, I was about to lose my damn patience. I look down and Albuquerque and decide she needs some instruction on what to do when you got dick in your mouth.

“Open ya mouth up.” I told her, pulling her hair back to hold it behind her head. Soon as she does I pump my dick all into the back of her throat. She start hittin that gag reflex just right and then I let her breathe while she coughs and wipes her mascara down. I look over at Venice who has a slick smile on her face, nodding at me to continue. When Abomasnow started bobbin on my dick again, she was two handin my shit right? Venice brought a real lazy ass to this party. So I popped her face tellin her to take it deep. White girl was a trooper, I give her that. She barely got it halfway in before she started to gag, so I held her down just to make sure she wasn’t playing.

Lookin over at Venice, now she all relaxed, panties to the side with two fingers diggin herself out. She was bitin her lip tryin not to cum, she bet not either. With her full attenion I let her friend breathe again before I made her face my playground, fuckin the shit outta her throat. I tried my best to imagine it being Venice’s pussy like she probably wish her fingers were me. I couldn’t take no damn more.

I pulled out of Arby’s and strolled my ass on over to Venice, ready or not. Venice wasn’t fightin though as I picked her up under them thick ass legs while she held onto my shoulders. I guided her onto my Johnson and slid right in that bitch like it was nothin. She was so damn wet for me, and her face said it all that she was finally gettin what we came there to do. Venice pussy reminded me of when you just sat down after bein up on your feet all day and you feel like your heart is beatin in your soles when you get them propped up but it’s so damn better than gettin back up again. Venice knew how to tease me, and that shit was torture, but fuck if that release ain’t sweeter for it. Kissin on her lips while she breathin on me kept me goin, so I put her down turned her around by the fireplace. I picked her leg up and back and got right back in that pussy. This was my favorite position, cuz she felt tighter from behind, and she screamed louder too. Singing my name out like a gospel, cussin me out so much it almost hurt my feelins. Almost.

I almost forgot about her friend, til I felt a ticklin on my balls and there was Abscess tryna feel a part of this too, lickin my nuts and Venice’s pussy when I was slammin too hard in them cheeks. It was whatever though, cuz not a damn thing was bringing me out of her til I was through.

While I’m holdin Venice’s titties bouncin round, I felt myself gettin close, but that wasn’t happenin here, not like that. So I pull out of Venice, almost kickin Albany in the face and take her chair spot.

“Lemme fuck them titties real quick.” Venice gets between my legs and wraps them tig ol bitties round me, holdin them in place. Ma had my dick CREAMY, I didn’t even notice til then, she was cummin harder than a muthafucka. Venice friend helped keep her hair back, encouraging her with some “Go girl, get that cock baby!” type of Bring It On like nonsense. This ain’t no damn pep rally, fuck is you doin? Me and Venice were in our own damn world anyway, watchin her tongue hang out to catch my tip when it poke from her cleavage made me mad. She knew what the fuck to do, and I can’t stand it! Nigga, that nut was so long and hard, it could break steel, but it painted her face like a damn masterpiece, stickin on her eyelashes and shit. What the fuck she get for makin me work so damn hard.

With all that, her friend was pretty chill by the outcome. “Damn, Venice, you weren’t lying at all. Shits real!” givin Venice a high five while I pulled my pants up and she wiped her face.

“Right? Told you! Ok guys, I have to get some rest so just see yourselves out. We should do this again!”

I just knew she wasn’t talkin to me, but she really was walkin up her steps to her room like we were her employees clockin out.

I asked her, “Aye, Venice! This how you treat guests in your house!”

“You ain’t gotta go home, Erik, but you have got to get the hell outta here before my husband gets home.” Venice said with a flick of her wrist. Bossy ass bitch!

Me and Abbreviate walk outside and I just had to ask her somethin for what just happened. “Do y’all do this a lot?”

She just shrugs. “Sometimes, but I don’t say yes to every invitation. You just sounded too promising.”

I nodded, confused as hell, but flattered. “Right. And how y’all know each other?”

“I’m a colleague. Worked on a case together and got a little closer than necessary. Been a good friend since. Take care of yourself, Erik.” She gets in her car and that was that on that.

When I head to my whip, I get a text notification. I just knew it was Venice asking me to come back or at least a thank you. But no this time it was my other situation, Genesis.

Masterlist

#erik killmonger pov #erik killmonger fanfic #shakafic #fanfic

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writinginstardust · 6 years

Text

A Night to Remember

Pairing: Dorian Havilliard x reader

Warnings: nada

A/N: okay so this is technically a part 2 to Fashion Emergency, however it can be read without reading that first. I was right, this part got a lot longer than I’d planned but it means more fluff for you so like who cares?

Word Count: 3000

^ The Dress I envisioned if you were wondering ^

Looking in the mirror (Y/N) was shocked at how she looked. The dress Dorian had given her looked as if it was designed for her alone, the colour perfect, the style beautiful, the fit doing absolute wonders for her. Her maid had done a truly amazing job with her hair and makeup as well. It was understated and girly but so elegant; a splash of colour to her lips, a slight darkening of her lashes, some tiny sparkling flowers woven into her hair. She’d never felt so beautiful. Sure Dorian had told her she was a thousand times but she’d never truly seen it until now. Even so, she was still trying to find any small fault in her appearance, eyes scanning over every inch of herself visible in the mirror.

“You look beautiful, lovey, stop worrying.” Her maid came and stood in front of her, hand squeezing her shoulder in comfort. “Your prince won’t be able to keep his eyes off you, I guarantee it.” She made a couple of small adjustments, smoothing out the fabric of the dress and re-positioning a stubborn piece of hair before nodding, satisfied with her work, and leading (Y/N) to the door.

There the girl paused and took a deep breath to ease her nerves and try to calm the tremor in her hands. She turned back to her maid and gave the older woman a hug.

“You’ll be fine dear, there’s nothing to be scared of. Now,” she pulled away from the hug and smoothed the dress before smiling affectionately at the young woman, “go have fun, and tell me everything in the morning.”

“Thank you,” was all (Y/N) could manage before the maid shooed her out the door and she started the walk to the grand hall.

Dorian was a nervous wreck. He couldn’t keep still where he waited at the bottom of the grand staircase outside the hall. He’d never felt like this before, usually calm and confident in any situation, but not today apparently. Since the moment he’d left (Y/N) earlier that day he’d been a ball of anxiety, terrified his parents wouldn’t approve. She was everything to him, his whole world and he didn’t think he could bare the possibility of losing her, especially because of his parents. He really needed to calm down. She was perfect in his eyes, more lovely, kind, and respectable than any girl he’d known, surely his parents would think so too?

A hand, Chaol’s hand, clapping him on the shoulder shook him out of his thoughts and he looked to his best friend who was wearing a concerned expression.

“Are you alright?” The captain asked.

“Yes, just a bit nervous about my parents. I’m sure it will be fine though.”

“It will. (Y/N) is great at making people like her, she’ll be alright.”

They chatted for another few minutes while they waited for (Y/N). Suddenly Chaol’s eyes widened and Dorian turned to follow his gaze up the stairs to the most heavenly sight to ever meet his eyes.

Dorian could only gape as he watched (Y/N) walk down the stairs to where he waited. She looked more beautiful than Dorian thought anyone had a right to, more like an actual goddess than anything of this world. She even seemed to glow as if from some inner light, or maybe it was just the way the soft candlelight lit her features and caught on the details of the dress she wore, maybe it was even simply the shy smile she offered him lighting up her whole body with the happiness he saw there. Whatever it was made her shine, brighter than any star he’d ever seen.

He’d yet to recover the ability to speak by the time she reached him and her smile faltered a little. Chaol nudged him and he finally snapped out of it, a soft smile forming on his lips, the one he usually reserved for moments when they were alone. The one that made (Y/N)’s heart melt and cheeks heat from the obvious adoration in it.

“Gods, you look beautiful,” he breathed out and brought his hand to cup her cheek as he leaned down to capture her lips in a sweet kiss.

He pulled back and gave her an encouraging smile as he offered his arm. “Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” She took his arm and they walked towards the huge wooden doors, (Y/N) trembling slightly.

“It’s okay, relax, just smile and be yourself. You’ve been to these things before and everyone already loves you.” He spoke quietly as they neared the doors.

“I know, but I’ve never been with you before. Do you know how many girls would literally kill to be going with you? What if they all hate me now?”

“They won’t, and if they do then they don’t deserve to know you anyway. Trust me, everything will be alright.”

“I trust you. But if you’re wrong I’m never going to let you hear the end of it.” His chuckle brought a soft smile to her face just as the doors opened before them and they entered the party together, everyone’s eyes on them in an instant.

She looked out at the sea of faces before her, some shocked, others awed, others still smiling. It was the smiles she focused on, many coming from the friends she’d made. The awed made her nervous and the shocked she was unwilling to chance seeing give way to annoyance or jealousy.

While (Y/N) focused on and worried about everyone else, Dorian couldn’t bring himself to pay attention to anything but the girl beside him as they made their way through the crowds to greet the King and Queen. She was the picture of grace and confidence in that moment, though he knew much of it was faked, and he’d never been so proud.

As they approached his parents Dorian bowed and (Y/N) followed suit with a flawlessly executed curtsy.

“Mother, father, I’m sure you know who (Y/N) is, though I don’t believe you’ve ever been formally introduced.”

“No we haven’t, pleasure to meet you dear.” The Queen smiled slightly at her and although it wasn’t the warmest of welcomes, it eased some of the anxiety which had been clawing at her.

“The pleasure is mine, your majesty.” She smiled at the Queen before glancing towards the King and back to Dorian, the lack of any conversation to be had hanging heavy in the air.

“Well, happy birthday mother, I’m sure I’ll see you again later.” With that the two of them bowed and curtsied again and left to enjoy the party. (Y/N) could still feel the burning of the King’s gaze on her as they walked away. He’d remained silent the whole time and she’d felt like she’d been being assessed for something other than being an appropriate match for Dorian. What, she couldn’t fathom but she didn’t much like the idea of finding out.

“Well that went about as well as could be expected. You did amazing darling.” With a steadying hand on the small of her back, Dorian directed them through the room towards some of the friendlier faces she’d seen earlier.

“I didn’t exactly do much but they didn’t visibly hate me, so i suppose that’s something.” She smiled brightly, relieved that that was finally over with.

“That’s better than a lot of people get, they’re probably just going to watch you more closely and then then decide what they think of you.” Her smile dropped and a bit of panic crossed her features before Dorian continued. “Darling, there’s no need to worry about it, I’ve never heard a bad word uttered about you, even from some of the biggest bastards in this court. You’re more of a Lady than everyone here so just act how you normally would and you’ll be fine.”

“Okay.” she nodded, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath before she settled her features back into her usual open smile.

“(Y/N)!” The raised voice made her turn around and find one of her friends rushing over, a huge grin on her face and an exasperated Lord’s son trailing her. “When you told me you had a date to this, I didn’t realise you meant Dorian! Why didn’t you tell me!?” She asked as soon as she reached the pair.

“Well you didn’t tell me you were coming with anyone so I think we’re even.” She made a face at that and (Y/N) couldn’t help the little bubble of laughter that rose in her throat. It was the sweetest sound Dorian had heard in his life and he longed to hear it again as many times as possible.

“Well I’m sure you’ve got lots of important people to see so we won’t keep you. (Y/N) you look beautiful and I’m so happy for you, I expect you to tell me absolutely everything tomorrow though.” She winked and turned to Dorian. “Your Highness,” a slight curtsy, “look after her please.”

“You have my word.” He wrapped his arm around (Y/N)’s waist and smiled at her friend before leading her away.

They spent the next half an hour circulating and talking to all the guests, an obligation for Dorian. Most of the court seemed to be very happy for them and they received countless compliments on how lovely a couple they were, so many kind words that (Y/N) found she no longer needed to fake her confidence or elation. Sure there were a few girls around her age who were less than pleased about their relationship but they both knew it was just jealousy and brushed it off easily.

Finally, they’d seen everyone and took a moment to have a break and grab a drink in the corner of the room before Dorian led her to join in the dancing which had started not long after they’d arrived.

For hours they danced and danced, only taking a few breaks to catch their breath and drink. As Dorian spun her around the dance floor neither of them could keep smiles off their faces or their eyes off of each other, both so entranced by their partner that nothing else mattered. It was obvious to everyone who watched them how in love they were, they were completely absorbed in each other, in their own world where there was room for nothing but love and happiness. They were all shocked at how no one had noticed anything before tonight as the love exhibited clearly wasn’t the newly found kind, it was a love that had been built over years and had been in the open between them for some time.

When at last they couldn’t dance any longer, they slipped out alone into the gardens to stroll in the cooling night air. They were quiet for a long while, content just to be together as they walked hand in hand. They reached their favourite part of the gardens, the place they met, and (Y/N) sunk down to sit by the pond there to rest her aching feet. Leaning back on her hands she tilted her head back to look at the stars. Dorian came to sit beside her, just staring as she sat, bathed in the light of the moon, only inches away. In the pale light he was struck yet again by the way she looked, skin glowing almost ethereally and body completely relaxed and and peace, the picture of serenity. He thanked the gods yet again for bringing her into his life and letting them fall in love.

(Y/N) could feel Dorian’s gaze fixed on her but that was nothing knew to her, she’d long been aware of how deep his love for her ran and had gotten used to the feeling of his eyes on her. It had been awkward and embarrassing at the beginning but she’d grown to appreciate the attention, it was just one of the ways Dorian liked to show his love so she’d accepted it and now found comfort in the heat of his gaze. She turned her head and gave him a soft smile which he returned as she finally broke their silence.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever danced that much before. I’m not sure I’m going to be able to walk tomorrow.”

“Me neither, I’d dance for an eternity though so long as you were with me.” She sighed at his classically romantic response.

“How are you always so romantic?”

“It’s easy when the love of your life is sitting a few inches away.” He grinned and stood, offering his hand. “Have you got the energy for one last dance?”

“Dorian, there’s no music out here.”

“And?” She thought for a moment and shrugged before taking his hand and being pulled to her feet. His other hand wrapped around her waist, pulling her as close as possible, while hers came up to rest on his shoulder, their clasped hands held close to them. It wasn’t a proper dancing stance but neither cared, their goal wasn’t perfection, it was simply to be as close to each other as they could.

(Y/N) couldn’t tear her eyes from his as Dorian moved them slowly to a beat only he could hear. His eyes sparkled whenever they caught the moonlight and she felt herself falling for the beautiful man before her all over again.

At some point they’d let go of each others hands and now simply had their arms wrapped around each other, Dorian’s at her waist and (Y/N)’s around his shoulders. They’d stopped dancing too and were now just swaying lightly together with her head resting on his chest. They stayed like that for a while until (Y/N) began to shiver from the cool night breeze and Dorian pulled away slightly with concern.

“Maybe we should head back inside.” He suggested. She nodded in agreement but neither moved away. (Y/N)’s eyes flicked down to his lips briefly, their faces already close enough that she could feel his breath fanning over her face. A hand on her chin tilted her head up and her eyes closed as a pair of warm lips met hers. Dorian’s kiss was a smouldering fire, warming her to her very core and she kissed back as insistently as he did, hands moving to cup his face as one of his tangled in her hair, causing a little gasp to escape her when he tugged ever so gently.

She was breathing hard, lips slightly swollen from the kiss, when they broke away and Dorian had never wanted anything more than he wanted her then. A little thrill went through him at the thought that he was to only one who got to see her like that, the only one who got to kiss her whenever he pleased just as he did again right then, the only one who got to see her shy smile every time he did.

(Y/N) shivered again and they both finally moved away to head back inside. It was late enough that there was no reason to return to the party so once they entered the relative warmth of the castle again they headed for (Y/N)’s room. At the door Dorian kissed her again, he couldn’t help it, a much gentler kiss than his last though, one to say goodnight.

“Do...do you want to stay, for a little while? I’m not tired just yet.” She wasn’t sure why she was suddenly nervous but did her best to hide it.

“Of course.” He smiled, completely at ease, and pushed open her door, allowing her to enter first before he shut it behind himself.

“I’m just going to...ah…,” she gestured at the delicate expanse of her dress, “get out of this. I’ll only be a minute.”

“Need any help?” He winked and she felt her cheeks heat.

“No, I’ll be okay.” She hurried into her bedroom and started trying to undress. It was much harder than it looked and both she and her hair got caught up in the details of the fabric. She had to admit defeat.

“I might need that hand now,” she called out to Dorian in the other room and he appeared in the doorway moments later trying desperately to suppress a laugh when he saw her. “Stop laughing and help me.” She tried to sound irritated but failed as she herself started giggling.

“Okay, let’s see what we can do here.” He strode over and began trying to untangle her.

A few minutes later (Y/N) was freed from the dress and quickly slipping on a nightgown while Dorian hung it up safely, very politely keeping his back turned to give her some privacy as she changed. Sitting against her headboard, she watched as Dorian finished with the dress and came to join her, loosening his shirt as he did.

“Pick up where we left off earlier?” She asked, reaching for the book on her nightstand.

“If you wish, do you even know where we got to? You fell asleep halfway through.”

“I’m sure I’ll figure out what’s going on, just start from wherever you got to.”

Dorian settled more comfortably onto the bed and took the book from (Y/N) who promptly curled into his side, head resting on his chest. He held the book with one hand, the other stroking gently through her hair until he had to turn the page.

Only six pages in (Y/N) fell asleep, obviously more tired than she’d realised. Dorian closed and put back the book before carefully moving them both down the bed until he could lay down properly. Placing one last kiss to her forehead Dorian closed his eyes, wrapped his arms around the girl beside him, and soon fell asleep himself, looking forward to ending many more days the same way.

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bts-love-sweat-tears · 6 years

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Change of Heart (Follower Celebration Fic #3)

Title: Change of Heart

Pairing: Jungkook x reader

Type: shifter!au, wolf!au, angst with a happy ending, Friday Night Lights meets Teen Wolf? Idk.

Word Count: 1,894

Rating: PG

Warnings: mentions of depression post-bad breakup, language

A/N: The third of five for my 200 follower celebration! Requested by a lovely anon. This literally wrote itself- I think you can tell sometimes when it flows easier. It was in the notebook that I carry around so I had a fun time deciphering my own handwriting lol. I was tempted to leave it open-ended and ambiguous as I am oft to do, but anon requested happy so I hope you love it. Except for the soulmate thing, it actually has very little to do with shifters.

A/N Update: Crap there are so many typos I’m sorry. Brain and fingers while typing don’t communicate well. Working on edits now, but was excited to get it out <3

How could you even express what Jungkook meant to you? Until now, you had always kind of taken him for granted. Being with him was like breathing. You didn’t think about it until it lost its usual ease. Clearly, you were now in the emotional equivalent of a head cold. Kook was literally the boy next door, and the two of you had been inseparable since the day his parents had dragged him along to welcome the new neighbors; apple pie still steaming in their hands.

If your parents were surprised by the small-town niceties, you couldn’t say. Kook and you had been in the midst of a stare-down, some kind of weird kindergarten dominance battle. Later in life, you would realize just how dumb it was to stare down a wolf-shifter, but at the time you hadn’t even realized what he was, let alone the finer points of inter-species etiquette. And it didn’t much matter, since had caved first, and bounded over to wrap you in a hug. Most of your childhood memories from that time were filled with warmth, whether from the hugs or the pie you couldn’t say for certain.

You thought that warmth would continue forever, and for a long time, it did. Your childhood adventures with Kook were filled with pillow forts, catching fireflies, and watching Ironman approximately ten thousand times. But then puberty hit you both like a train, and in very different ways. His shifts started, and he shot up and bulked up, while you filled out in different places, both of you mutually pimply and suddenly awkward.

Childhood warmth morphed into a flame. Pleasant in small amounts but dangerous if left unchecked. So you tried your hardest to keep a lid on your growing feelings. Jungkook had long ago explained that shifters get one mate for life, usually another shifter, so that the person wouldn’t be destroyed by the other not reciprocating their feelings. He had explained that while “mate” implied something physical, it was actually so much more than that-two halves of the same soul residing in different bodies. Not someone to fuck with, literally or metaphorically. The way he had talked about it at the time made it seem like something far off, like college, marriage, or having kids, so the two of you worked hard in tiptoeing around what that might mean for your friendship. Instead, the two of you continued as you always had, and if his parents shot the two of you knowing looks, neither of you acknowledged it.

As high school dragged on, the two of you became busier, him with varsity football and you with drama club. Your friend groups diverged, but you both still made the time to hang out on the weekend and nerd out together, your friendship never losing that special spark.

Until he started dating a fellow wolf shifter from a nearby school. You presumed it to be serious, since shifters didn’t really date casually due to the soul bond. You were never really the jealous type, and Jungkook’s new and improved bunny smile helped you to welcome his girlfriend into your friendship. She “got” him in ways that you never could, and not just because she was a wolf. Toned, tall, and golden, you were fairly certain that she could run both literal and metaphorical laps around you. It didn’t hurt that she was cool and genuinely gorgeous. Why even worry about competing when it was clearly impossible? And toxic?

But you would be lying if you denied the smaller, less secure part of yourself that felt jealous and displaced. Jungkook still tried to make time for your more occasional Friday night hangouts, but she kept taking up more and more of his headspace. When not actively talking about her, he was checking his phone incessantly. Maybe you were being petty, but you still wanted him to be present in your life as well.

Slowly but surely, you started staying later at theater rehearsals and investing more time into other friendships. Correspondingly, Jungkook’s text messages slowed to a trickle. The two of you still ate lunch together most days, but it had become less intense than it had once been. Occasionally, he still gave you those signature one-armed hugs that you secretly loved, his chin resting on the crown of your much lower head. Years ago, he had given you an overly vague description of pack dynamics, and the need for physical affection, which confused you now. Shouldn’t he be getting said attentions from his soulmate?A small part of you was flattered that his new relationship hadn’t completely displaced you from his pack. “Bros before….” whatever, as the expression went.

You convinced yourself it was innocent, particularly since you had started dating an equally nerdy lighting tech you had met through drama club. If his affinity for the MCU replicated someone else’s, you couldn’t say. If his penchant for video games reminded you of a childhood friend, well, everyone loved video games. Nothing to see there. If when kissing him, you envisioned someone else’s face, well you would never let on. It was never as serious as Kook’s relationship seemed to be.

Though all parties involved knew the inevitable outcome of the blossoming relationship between the two shifters, you had never actually heard Jungkook use the word “soulmate” in reference to his girlfriend. Because of books and movies, people tended to think of it as insta-love, but that wasn’t (usually) how it worked in real life. For as as much as their inner wolves guided them, they were people as well: emotions, ambitions, tics and traits as much as anyone else. Even in the “wild” (though you often snorted at the dramatic image this conjured), there were trial periods, rituals, and rites of passage. But from the outside, the two of them were the complementary faces of a coin, peas in a pod, tied by the strings of fate, and any other metaphor that someone wanted to use. Maybe it was one of those things Jungkook just knew,without the need to put a label on it.

Or so you thought. Clearly, you didn’t know as much about the natural world (or matters of the heart) as you had thought. Most of your knowledge you’d gleaned from NatGeo or Discovery Channel documentaries- you were a suburban kid like any other. Your knowledge of romance came from novels with Fabio or one of his five thousand lookalikes on the cover, CW shows, and your admittedly very lackluster current relationship. When Kook had found out he had growled slightly, and immediately tried to mask it with a cough. But you’d known him long enough to not fall for his bullshit. You were indignant though-you’d been supportive of his relationship, so why couldn’t he support yours? Sometimes, when the two of you walked down the hallway holding hands, Kook would shoot daggers with his eyes, which you would studiously ignore. But the guy was either oblivious or braver than you gave him credit for.

All these pointed looks and tension should have painted a sign for you (in neon letters) that all was NOT well in paradise, but you were working so hard to suppress what you felt for your childhood friend that it surprised you as much as anyone else when Kook’s girlfriend broke up with him. “Broke up” was giving her more than she deserved-she had simply taken off one day. Wolf shifters tended to the transient side (Kook’s family being the exception), and one day when another pack was passing through, she decided to run off with the alpha. You didn’t know if she’d found “the one” or was just flighty. And you certainly weren’t interested in the politics of the shifter world, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out the bump in status she would get from a high school kid to an established alpha. But you couldn’t spare her a second thought- your best friend was destroyed. Suddenly, the golden jock of the school was acting like one of the emo kids: dark circles from lack of sleep, appetite wrecked, small things irritating him, or at other times, complete indifference when he should have been irritated.

You didn’t know if Kook had it in him to love anyone else- maybe that part of him had left with her. And it wasn’t particularly at the forefront of your mind, but you were genuinely worried about your friend. With the fall play winding down and winter finals fast approaching, you had extra time on your hands that you were supposed to be using to study. Instead, you spent every waking moment with Kook…and some decidedly not wakeful moments. It was around this time that your own boyfriend broke up with you, citing your emotional unavailability. You felt bad for wasting his time, but you also felt free. It was a relief, honestly, to be over and done with it.

All of the distance between you evaporated in a few weeks, if that. You watched Deadpool and Ant Man, played Overwatch, and tried to distract your friend from his heartbreak. Often, he would fall asleep, head resting on your lap, tears dripping from the corner of his eyes, even in sleep. But his parents had told you later that was the only time he was seemingly at ease enough to sleep at all.

You knew there were things unsaid, but it wasn’t the time-not when he was emotionally vulnerable. You didn’t want to feel predatory, and it was during this time, things started to fall into place for you. Your own feelings began to crystallize, and you realized that it didn’t matter in what way you had him, but that he needed to be in your life. Even if romantic love never materialized, there were other kinds of love that were just as deep and important. And you realized that you loved him, in that way too. Everything else-it was a distraction. It was thoughts like this that strengthened your resolve when things seemed particularly bleak.

Over time, everything you gave to him, he gave back tenfold. He slowly began to smile again, and sleep through the night. But the two of you continued to come and go from school together, one doing homework and waiting for the other if at practice or rehearsal. He never dated again while in high school, and you both ended up going to the local university. You for the in-state tuition breaks and well-rated course of study that you wanted, and him….well, you weren’t sure why, but if the ways his parents smirked was any indication, you might have had an inkling. After a mandatory first year spent in the dorms, the two of you got an apartment near the campus. And though neither of you were ones for lengthy confessions you had an understanding: you were soulmates in whatever way a damaged wolf shifter and human could be. Never alone and always taking care of each other. Which was why, you were so shocked when, one average day like any other, he got down on one knee, and offered you a small velvet box, telling you that his heart was in your hands, as it had always been and would always be.

#bts scenarios #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts shifter au #follower milestone fic

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fitnesshealthyoga-blog · 5 years

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New Post has been published on https://fitnesshealthyoga.com/how-rosie-acosta-says-yoga-transformed-her-life/

How Rosie Acosta Says Yoga Transformed Her Life

Here’s how our December cover model, Rosie Acosta of the Radically Loved podcast, went from troubled teen to enlightened yogapreneur.

Ashley Turner

On a sunny afternoon in the Hollywood Hills, Rosie Acosta sits on the sofa in her bright living room, knees to her chest, facing best-selling author and Ayurveda practitioner Sahara Rose Ketabi. The two women are friends, and they’ve greeted each other warmly with hugs and excited chatter. They dish for a few minutes about Acosta’s herbal tea obsession and Ketabi’s recent engagement, but the pair have come together on official business—Ketabi is making a guest appearance on Acosta’s wellness podcast, Radically Loved, to discuss her new cookbook, Eat Feel Fresh, which features modern spins on traditional Ayurvedic recipes.

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Both Ayurveda enthusiasts, Acosta and Ketabi have recently returned from a six-day panchakarma, the most intense detoxification ritual in Ayurvedic medicine. The process consists of five aggressive therapies said to eliminate doshic imbalances in the body. (In Ayurveda, doshas are the three energies believed to govern physiological and mental activity.) To hear them describe it, it’s purging, pooping, and bathing in oil until you come out anew on the other side. Oh, and there’s a ton of ghee: “They put ghee in your eyes to clarify eyesight. They clean your ears with it,” Ketabi marvels. “I mean, there’s ghee in every crevice.”

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Of course there’s also meditation and self-reflection and carefully prepared Ayurvedic meals of kitchari (and more ghee), and it was during a panchakarma lunch that Ketabi discovered something rather radical about Acosta: “She’s literally a psychic guru,” she tells me.

See also How to Use Ayurveda to Get Healthier Every Time You Eat

Acosta and Ketabi swear it happened like this: They were at the panchakarma retreat with two other friends. It was a virechana day—designed to clear toxins from the GI tract. They all took laxatives and were confined to their individual rooms. Around three o’clock in the afternoon, Acosta took a nap. When she woke up at 4:30, she decided to meditate “for like, two hours straight,” she says, adding that it was the longest she’s ever sat for a meditation at one time. “I started to feel this weird thing happening—like an out-of-body experience,” she says. “All of a sudden, I wanted to go visit the girls and see what they were doing.”

Without leaving her room, still deep in meditation, Acosta checked in on her friends. She saw one of them curled up on her bed, naked, and lying on her left side. Another was propped up on her stomach, journaling. Acosta didn’t see Ketabi in her room at all. Instead, she envisioned the petite brunette at the gym, running on an elliptical, talking on her cell phone in Spanish (she’s fluent) to what sounded like a wedding planner. “At the end of the conversation she goes, ‘OK. ¡Hasta luego!’ And then hangs up,” Acosta recalls.

By the time Acosta met Ketabi for lunch the next day, she’d already confirmed with the other two women that her visions of them had, in fact, been accurate. But when she started telling Ketabi what had happened, things got even weirder. Ketabi had indeed been Skyping with her wedding photographer on an elliptical the day before, ending her conversation with the Spanish farewell hasta luego. “And I remember thinking after I hung up, That so did not sound like me. Why did I say that?” Ketabi says. “I sounded like an American trying to learn Spanish.” As they hashed out the events of the day before, they discovered that Acosta’s vision had actually occurred hours before Ketabi’s conversation with her photographer took place. “It’s like she put the words in my mouth,” Ketabi concludes.

We spent a week in Los Angeles with December cover model, Rosie Acosta of the Radically Loved Podcast. Here’s how yoga helped her transform a troubled adolescence into an abundant adulthood.

Christopher Dougherty

From rags to richness

At 35, Acosta has come to terms with supernatural phenomena such as clairvoyance and manifesting her deepest desires—in fact, she’s built her career in the yoga space by leaning into them. She believes that practicing gratitude and intense optimism (and living a life guided by the Yoga Sutra) can lead to dramatic transformation, because she’s experienced this herself. Today Acosta lives comfortably in a two-bedroom Craftsman overlooking Laurel Canyon with her fiancé, upscale-accessories designer Torry Pendergrass; her teenage sister, who was born when she was 15; and her two dogs. Acosta admits feeling extraordinarily lucky to be making a living teaching yoga and meditation in Los Angeles. Hosting self-discovery retreats and teacher trainings, plus inspirational speaking, keeps her constantly jet-setting—and her self-help-heavy podcast, in which she’s waxed poetic on topics ranging from the importance of forgiveness to the power of intention, has recently reached 120,000 followers. But things weren’t always coming up roses for Acosta, and there was a time not too long ago when she likened yoga to a cult.

See also Rosie Acosta on How to Take Down Your Inner Critic

After a tumultuous childhood growing up in South San Gabriel in East Los Angeles, Acosta suffered from depression, anxiety, and a binge-eating disorder throughout her late teens. With two immigrant parents (her mother from Spain and her father from Mexico) trying to make ends meet amid gang violence and the racist drug war that defined Los Angeles in the late ’80s and early ’90s, Acosta learned early on that there was a price to pay for being Latin American in her part of the world. “There was never any, ‘Oh, you have to grow up and go to school and have aspirations to be successful,” she recalls. “No. It was, ‘Your job is to stay alive.’”

Often referred to as the decade of death, 1988–1998 in Los Angeles County was marked by record homicide rates and violence. Gangs terrorized the neighborhoods surrounding Acosta’s home, where she lived with her parents, her older sister, and a revolving cast of extended relatives. One evening in March of ’88, Acosta’s 16-year-old uncle, charged with babysitting her and her cousin for the night, promised to take the pair of five-year-old girls to the arcade. Instead, he parked his black Camaro outside of Skateland U.S.A., a roller rink by day, music venue by night, that’s notable for launching hip-hop supergroup N.W.A. The concrete depot on Central Avenue in Compton was situated deep in Bloods territory, and although a sign reading NO CAPS — NO COLORS adorned the entry door, the crowd was frequently a stormy sea of red. Peering out from the back seat of the Camaro, Acosta could see a gaggle of high schoolers and gangbangers drinking and shouting in the noisy lot. “Wait in the car,” her uncle told her. “I’m just gonna go watch this show, and then I’ll be right back.” An early N.W.A. fan, her uncle had brought her to the controversial rap group’s now-legendary first performance, immortalized in the 2015 biopic Straight Outta Compton.

“He left, and we just looked at each other, so freaked out,” Acosta recalls. The girls hid under a Saltillo blanket as violence erupted outside—until their uncle emerged, hours later, with a bloody face and a busted left eye. “I still have no idea how that happened, but then nobody asked him,” Acosta recalls. “He was like, ‘We were at the arcade,’ and my parents were like, ‘OK.’ It was literally like Lord of the Flies, you know?”

Exactly 10 years later, in the spring of 1998, Acosta sat in the driver’s seat of a running cop car, surrounded by six or seven officers with their guns drawn, all screaming for her to get out of the car. She was a sophomore at Mark Keppel High School, and she and some friends had decided to ditch sixth period to hang out at Sierra Vista Park in northeast LA. The small grassy park is home to a basketball court and a primary-colored playground, and while the teens were en route, a car chase was going down nearby. A police car had been in pursuit of a red Honda Prelude when both cars screeched to a halt at the edge of the park. The chase continued on foot—the abandoned vehicles left running on the pavement. “I was like Dora the Explorer, looking in both cars, trying to be a badass because all these people were watching,” says Acosta. “And someone was like, ‘Oh, you should get into the cop car.’” Clad in fingerless panda-print gloves and a chunky black sweater, Acosta hopped into the front seat, unaware that the place was crawling with undercover cops. The incident resulted in her arrest for attempted grand theft auto.

After several traumatic events growing up, Rosie realized she needed to change the direction her life was headed.

Christopher Dougherty

Rosie from the block

Ventura Boulevard is humming with hipsters as Acosta and I sit beneath a bright-blue umbrella, amid teal bistro tables, outside Australian-inspired coffee shop Bluestone Lane. The chain is new to LA, and Acosta is hoping this outpost will be as good as the one she frequents in New York City. We both order avocado toast, and over coffee and matcha discuss her forthcoming memoir and how she came to find yoga. She’s animated and easy to talk to, with an attitude and mannerisms that are a little bit JLo. (Case in point, as Ketabi walked out the door at the end of her podcast recording session with Acosta, she turned to me and said, “The way I’m envisioning the [YJ] cover is, she’s wearing little pigtails on her head, like buns. And she’s doing a handstand on one hand. And wearing those pants that have the straps, but instead of ‘Calvin Klein’ it says, ‘Rosie from the Block’”—a direct reference to the 2002 Jennifer Lopez chart topper “Jenny from the Block.”) In short, Acosta is the real deal, and she practices what she preaches because she believes it saved her life.

Acosta tells me that if she hadn’t been booked that day in 1998, things may not have turned around quite like they have. Traumatic episodes such as the one that unfolded at the N.W.A. concert colored her childhood, and it was only after her arrest that she was truly able to reflect on how her upbringing was wreaking havoc on her adolescence. Living through a never-ending reel of teen deaths, hold-ups at grocery stores, and other violent scenarios eventually led to debilitating panic attacks, depression, and other symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder. And after her arrest, court-ordered probation meant she could no longer cut school to blow off steam with her friends, most of whom were on a similar path of self-destruction. Discovering meditation and self-inquiry, plus a dramatic shift in attitude, is what revealed to her that she didn’t have to buy into what other people expected of her, which by her account, wasn’t much. “Nobody around us was trying to cultivate growth of any kind,” she says. “For me, the unpopular decision was to succeed. It’s fucked up, but the unpopular vote was to move out of my environment and become something else.”

During her senior year of high school, her mom, who supervised the cleaning staff at a local hospital, returned one night from work with some literature for the Self-Realization Fellowship temple in Hollywood—a white-stucco sanctuary with gold architectural embellishments and arched stained-glass windows—founded by Paramahansa Yogananda, an Indian yogi often credited with helping bring meditation and Kriya Yoga to the West.

“My mom said, ‘Hey, one of the ladies at work says she was stressed out and meditation worked for her—you should try it,’” recalls Acosta. “I took the little pamphlets, and I started to read about affirmations, and meditation, and manifestation, and the Law of Attraction, and all these things, and I really liked it. I was like, Oh, it’s like magic.”

But when she showed up at the temple a few weeks later, it wasn’t exactly love at first sight: “I was like, ‘This is a fucking cult. Get me out of here,’” she says. Even so, something about the lecture she heard that day resonated with her deep down, and she decided to stick with it. “The sermon was about how we were responsible for our own happiness,” Acosta says. “That really caught my attention, because I was like, Whoa, whoa, what does that mean? I was having this spiritual awakening of sorts, and it really spoke to me—this idea that I needed to be responsible for creating the life I wanted. I needed to be the person who rectified my bad behavior,” she says. “Somebody else couldn’t do that for me.”

Gradually, the path toward yoga revealed itself. When Acosta was 22, she grew interested in the physical aspects of the yogic lifestyle she was beginning to adopt, and she decided to attend a teacher training that, she would later come to realize, was unconventional, to say the least. “I found this little Kundalini Yoga studio in Pasadena that offered a weekend-long immersive training led by this sweet couple,” she says. As it turned out, they were followers of Osho, the controversial leader of the Rajneesh movement, recently popularized by the Netflix documentary series Wild Wild Country. “They had Osho posters everywhere,” Acosta recalls. “I took away a ton of information, but I remember thinking, There’s no way I can teach yoga. But after that, yoga started becoming more of a daily practice.”

She began regularly frequenting the Center for Yoga (now YogaWorks) and attending workshops and 200-hour teacher trainings with the intention of both deepening her practice and eventually becoming a yoga teacher. Yoga was where everything made sense, she says.

Rod Stryker, the founder of ParaYoga who became Acosta’s teacher in 2011, was surprised to learn of the adversity Acosta overcame to become the warm and wise yogi she is today. He says of their early days together: “I didn’t hear anything about hardship. I experienced this amazingly present, vibrant, mature, full soul.” But Acosta says that when she started studying with Stryker (her favorite teacher was a student of his, and encouraged Acosta to try his class), she had really only just begun her journey into yoga. “Things were resonating, but I couldn’t put the pieces together. It was like having a compass, and seeing signs—just trying to figure out how to bring all the clues together,” she says.

Rosie encourages students to commit to their own ability and potential while not comparing themselves to others.

Ashley Turner

Reflections from the other side

Today, after seven years of Stryker’s tutelage, Acosta certainly appears to have found her way. She teaches her own students at Wanderlust Hollywood and the newly opened Den Meditation studio, and recently, she and Pendergrass have been talking about starting a family of their own. The lessons she imparts on her students she’s learned from Stryker and from her own transformation. First and foremost, “practice for a long period of time without interruption and with an attitude of service”—wisdom from Patanjali (author of the Yoga Sutra) that’s so important today, she says, when most of us can’t even read an email on the computer without reaching for our phone. “I always say, this is a marathon, not a sprint. There are no freeways to enlightenment,” she says. The other mainstay of her teaching is something she’s gleaned from her own life: Commit to your own ability and your own potential, and quit comparing yourself to others. “Devote yourself to your own gifts and you’ll achieve success,” she says. “And remember that it’s going to look different from everyone else’s, because it’s supposed to.”

From the Mulholland Drive Scenic Overlook, where Acosta takes me one blistering-hot LA afternoon, we can see the entire metropolis sprawled out in front of us. She points out where she grew up, all the way on the right, the East side of the horizon. She recalls how she used to skip school and take the bus to downtown, then hike all the way up here and imagine what life would look like on the other side of the city—the life she’s living today, as if deep down, she knew what it would be like all along. “One of my girlfriends, she wanted to be an actress,” she recalls. “So she’d say things like, ‘I’m going to buy that house over there and be famous.’ But for me, any time I had to think of what my life might look like if it were something else, I would stay quiet. I didn’t have a vision of a career, per se, but I had a vision of what I wanted to see. And it was this.”

See also Doshas Decoded: Learn About Your Unique Mind & Body Type

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#Life #Namaste Blog #yoga classes #yoga exercises #Yoga Exercises

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cedarrrun · 6 years

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Asana and meditation teacher and popular podcast personality Rosie Acosta says yoga and a sunny outlook saved her life. Here’s how.

Here’s how our December cover model, Rosie Acosta of the Radically Loved podcast, went from troubled teen to enlightened yogapreneur.

See also How to Use Ayurveda to Get Healthier Every Time You Eat

We spent a week in Los Angeles with December cover model, Rosie Acosta of the Radically Loved Podcast. Here’s how yoga helped her transform a troubled adolescence into an abundant adulthood.

From rags to richness

See also Rosie Acosta on How to Take Down Your Inner Critic

After several traumatic events growing up, Rosie realized she needed to change the direction her life was headed.

Rosie from the block

Rosie encourages students to commit to their own ability and potential while not comparing themselves to others.

Reflections from the other side

See also Doshas Decoded: Learn About Your Unique Mind & Body Type

#sleep sounds #sleep music #white noise app #nature sounds #relaxing sounds #rain sounds for sleeping

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