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lena-in-a-red-dress · 1 month

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Blue and Fire Engine Red, Pt 6 (smexy times ahead)

To Kara’s surprise, steak dinner happens at Lena’s apartment. From how little Lena has shared so far, she’d expected to wait weeks or months to see where Lena lives. It’s not until she arrives that Kara realizes exactly why Lena is so willing to let Kara into her inner sanctum.

It’s completely void of personality.

Well, Kara allows, it could be that a lack of personality could be a personality in itself. And there are photos, but they all feature Lena and her crew. All smiling– all recent. Nothing to suggest Lena had a life before National City. She spies a punching bag in one corner, but the rest of the furniture is worn and basic, suggesting the place had come pre-furnished by a landlord who didn’t particularly care about aesthetics. It’s spartan and plain– forthright in a way that actually fits Lena. Still…

Kara wishes the space could have given her a better look at Lena’s inner life.

The kitchen, at least, is functional enough. Enough that Lena is able to season and sear her steaks to perfection, with some fresh asparagus sauteeing on a side burner. And she does it all with a smile, chatting with Kara as well as she had on the way home. A capable multitasker, Kara notes, though it’s less than surprising.

Lena seems incapable of being incapable at anything.

The meal is served up on non-descript plates– at least they’re ceramic and not paper, and Lena does lower the overhead lights to set the mood. Kara moans when the first bite of steak hits her tongue. Moist and savory and perfectly seasoned, it puts anything she herself could have made to shame. The asparagus is also perfectly softened without being mushy, retaining enough of its texture to allow for a bit of a crunch at the center.

“Are you sure the Army didn’t put you on the chow line? This is delicious!” Kara groans.

Lena smirks, taking a sip of her wine. “You think ‘chow’ tastes like this?” An arch eyebrow dispels that notion. “Nah. Not so much.”

“Well, wherever it comes from, color me amazed and impressed.”

Kara takes another large–too large– bite, and has to spend several quiet moments chewing her way through it. When she swallows– still too large– she tilts her head.

“Is there anything you’re not good at?”

Lena’s eyes warm with mirth, but takes a moment to consider.

“Jumping rope.” Lena shrugs. “I hate it. Can’t stand it.”

“But you can do it?”

Lena waves away the answer.

“Then it doesn’t count!”

Lena laughs. “Alright, alright… um. Okay. I can’t draw to save my life.”

It’s a surprisingly candid answer. “Really?”

Lena nods. “Any required art classes were passed on charm alone.”

Kara grins. Lena eyes her suspiciously.

“What?”

For a moment, they play a game of silent chicken as Kara waits for Lena to say the words, and Lean waits for Kara to confess what she already suspects. Finally, Lena caves.

“You’re an artist, aren’t you.”

Kara laughs, tickled by the suspicion at odds with the twinkle in Lena’s eye. “Maybe…” she draws out, unable to help the taunt. She relents when Lena’s eyebrow climbs dangerously close to her hairline. “Okay, fine. Yeah. I am. Kind of. At least, I was.”

“You were?”

“Not much opportunity to flex my brush skills on a cop’s schedule,” she deflects, unwilling to dull the mood with the somber reality. If Lena suspects the deeper reason, she gives no indication.

Instead, she tilts her head. “Well, I’d like to see some of your work, sometime.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Lena confirms. “If you’re willing to share, of course. No pressure.” She takes another sip of her wine. “I just know that anything you do would be amazing.”

Lena’s voice is low and throaty, and Kara senses the shift to a mood far more intimate than playful banter. “In that case, you would be right,” Kara confirms, leaning forward across the table. “Play your cards right, and I’ll prove it to you. Again.”

“Uh uh,” Lena returns, leaning to meet Kara midway across the table. She pecks a tantalizing kiss to Kara’s lips. “Tonight is my turn to go first.”

“Oooh,” Kara purrs. “I don’t mind the sound of that.”

She plays a light drumroll on Lena’s ass as she clears the dishes, which only receive a quick rinse before being forgotten in the sink. Lena’s attention turns to Kara, who feels the weight of her focus like a planar shift. The rest of the world ceases to exist, narrowing to the two of them alone.

They haven’t even reached the threshold of Lena’s bedroom before warm lips caress the skin of her neck. Her flesh prickles with goosebumps, a frisson of desire coursing through her. She wants this, and the flutter of nerves in her belly only heightens her anticipation. She’s never wanted anything– or anyone– as much as she wants this, wants Lena. She doesn’t know what Lena has in store for her, and doesn’t quite know how her body will react to her ministrations. If her current arousal is anything to go by, Kara suspects she might not survive what’s to come. And she’s perfectly fine with that.

Lena guides her with gentle hands to sit on the edge of the bed. For a moment, Kara thinks she’ll sit on her lap, like the last time on her couch. But instead, Lena lays her back, leaning over her with a muscled arm holding her up.

“Tell me what you want,” Lena murmurs between slow languid kisses. Kara whimpers into her mouth, making Lena’s lips curl in a smile against hers. “That’s not an answer, love.”

For a moment, Kara struggles to think, but Lena doesn’t relent in her ministrations. It takes long minutes of nearly losing herself in the sensations before she manages to conjure her wish.

“Let’s go slow.” she murmurs.

Lena pauses immediately, but Kara keeps her from pulling away by cupping her cheek. Lena gazes into her eyes, studying her to understand the meaning behind her words. Then, slowly, a low fire sparks deep in her gaze.

“How slow, exactly,” she asks, low and silky.

Kara lifts her chin to kiss her. “As slow as possible.”

Nodding her understanding, Lena runs a velvet touch up under Kara’s shirt; slow enough to count each and every rib. “And where would you like to start?”

Breath hitching when Lena hits a sensitive spot just under Kara’s breast, Kara tries to blink her way to at least partial coherency.

“Do you have a vibrator?” she gasps.

Lena nods, nuzzling Kara’s ear. “Excellent idea, darling.”

Finally, Kara releases herself to the experience. Lena takes her time with her, going deliciously slow as she raises Kara’s shirt by inches, kissing every exposed bit skin on her way. Not just kissing. Licking, nibbling, suckling. She lingers on Kara’s breasts, brushing her thumbs over pebbled nipples as she diverts back to Kara’s lips.

Slowly but surely, Kara’s skin heats with pleasure. But when her breath starts to quicken, Lena draws herself away. Without Lena’s body heat against her, chill air washes over her, making her groan. She squeezes her eyes shut in frustration.

“Now, now,” Lena tsks. “I want you to watch.”

Kara’s eyes fly open, and she props herself up on her elbows to watch as Lena unbuttons the fly of her jeans. Her fingers dip beneath her waistband, and Kara’s breath goes ragged in her chest. But just as smoothly as they slide under, they slip back out, and Lena shimmies out of her pants.

She kicks them aside as soon as she steps out of them, and Kara is left to ogle smooth, tones legs. Lena may not match Kara for height, but her legs are long and packed with muscle. Kara’s mouth goes dry.

“Jesus fucking christ,” Kara mutters.

Lena saunters closer, a satisfied smirk on her face. “Well, hopefully he won’t be the one fucking tonight.”

She tilts Kara’s chin up. Kara lets her mouth gape, just enough for Lena to see the invitation and take it. Her tongue slides over Kara’s, then curls languorously up and along the roof of Kara’s mouth. She sucks against Kara’s upper lip as she withdraws, and Kara lists after her when she sits back on Kara’s knees.

“Do you want to see more?” Lena croons.

Kara swallows thickly. “All of it,” she croaks. “I want to see all of you.”

Lena smiles, pleased with her response. She grips the hem of her shirt with her fingertips, and slowly begins to pull it up, up, up over her abdomen, her breasts, and finally her head. Dark hair flows through the neck opening, swishing around Lena’s bare shoulders. When Lena’s fingers move to her bra, all higher function vacates Kara’s brain. The little strip tease that follows sends bolts of arousal down through Kara’s core, pooling between her legs. Soon, only Lena’s underwear remains.

When Lena twists to deposit her bra on the pile with the rest of her abandoned clothing, Kara catches sight of a dark smudge on Lena’s ribs, but it flashes out of sight and out of mind when Lena turns her attention back to her.

Thankfully, Lena makes quicker work of Kara’s own pants. Soon Kara is completely and enthusiastically nude, and Kara notes that Lena makes no mention of how wet she is. Kara’s glad for it– she suspects it will be her default state whenever Lena’s eyes take on this sort of glint.

She jumps when the first rumble of the vibrator tickles the inside of her thigh. She inhales through her teeth, and is answered by a palm pressing flatly against her labia and clit.

“Easy,” Lena coaxes. Her lips still smirk though. “Don’t want you getting worked up too soon, do we?”

The even pressure on her groin eases some of the edge that had been building within her, and she manages to take a breath that relieves any more. Even so, she knows that once Lena gets to work with the vibrator, she would be hard pressed to draw this out as long as she hoped she could.

Lena isn’t one to disappoint. She plays Kara like a fiddle, taking her tantalizingly close to edge after edge, before drawing her back down again and again. Her technique is expert– the vibrator seems to trace patterns everywhere but her clit. Her labia, her bikini line, even the bottom edge of her belly. Sometimes, when Kara lingers too long on one edge, a warm tongue soothes her clit, dulling the hungry ache.

“Hanging in there?” Lena checks in once Kara stops squirming.

“Barely,” Kara gasps, panting.

“You are so hot,” Lena purrs. “You’re doing so good.”

That alone almost almost pitches Kara over the precipice. She curls her fingers into the sheets, gritting her teeth. “Soon,” she warns.

“Just say the word, baby. I’ll get you there.”

Lena starts again, taking her time tracing more patterns around her ultimate destination. Slowly, inevitably, the pressure building to unprecedented heights. Kara’s never been attended to like this, never been read so plainly, so intuitively. It’s as though Lena has already memorized her body, chasing every sensitive part of her with expert precision until even the ebb aches as deliciously as the flow.

When Lena brings the vibrator closer to her clit than she has so far, Kara cracks.

“Now!” she gasps.

The vibrator has hardly touched her clit when Kara hurtles over. She can’t help the cry that escapes her, loud and long and desperate. She’s never made a sound like this before. She doesn’t realize Lena hasn’t moved the vibrator before she’s tipping into a second orgasm, then a third. The last lingers for long, long seconds and only then do the vibrations cease.

The whine that Kara issues is inhuman to her own ears, but Lena only chuckles as she climbs up to check on her.

“Still conscious?”

Kara grunts plaintively, as her fingers slowly release the sheets.

“That was– whoah!”

Lena’s exclamation is swallowed by Kara’s mouth on hers, lunging for a kiss before full conscious thought has even returned. Lena melts into it, letting the kiss deepen and last until Kara is the one to break it.

“Amazing,” she finishes Lena’s sentence for her. “That was amazing. You’re amazing.”

Lena’s cheeks flush under the praise. “And you,” she returns, “are a glutton for punishment. You lasted longer than I thought you would. Much longer.” She licks Kara’s upper lip so sensually, it almost makes Kara ask for another round. Almost. “Good girl.”

Kara sighs. “I don’t know if I can return the favor,” she confesses. It kills her to say it, but she barely feel her toes. Lena laughs. “I’m sorry…”

“Please,” Lena dismisses, still laughing. “That’s possibly the greatest compliment I’ve ever gotten.”

Kara blinks. “Ever?”

“Ever,” Lena confirms. She smiles, her eyes warm and full of comfort as she gazes down at Kara. “How about an early night then?”

A sigh escapes Kara. “That sounds…”

“Amazing?” Lena teases.

“Yeah,” Kara confirms contentedly. “Amazing.”

#supercorp #blue and fire engine red #smexy times #Kara gets her turn #I hope you all like it #pls give me your thoughts #wanna make sure its worth continuing

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lovebugism · 1 year

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YOU'RE ON YOUR OWN, KID | the beginning.

summary: a year after the end of the world, you and steve share one cigarette and two confessions. (6k)

listen to: "as the world falls down" by david bowie

tags: f!reader, roadtrip fic, friends to lovers, slow burn, mutual pining, angst & comfort, post st4, selective canon divergence (some things happen, some things don't), reader goes by the nickname "scout" TW panic attacks, conversations about grief, steve harrington smokes but he's still hot, outfit inspo (not indicative of what r's body type/skin color/etc.)

a/n: kinda surreal that i'm posting this because it's something i've been working on/thinking about for Months. i put so much time and effort and tears into this series so pleasepleaseplease enjoy it! as always, let me know what you think! let's watch these two (sort of) friends run away and fall in love with each other, shall we? <3

JOURNALS | MASTERLIST | SPOTIFY

★。＼｜／。★

The beginning of the rest of your life starts in the murky alleyway outside The Velvet Lounge.

It’s pretty fitting, actually. You feel like you’re close to dying anyway.

The lightning strike of a panic attack comes first as a cold hand around your throat. The clawed talon of a long-gone monster strangles you — sucks all the air out of your lungs and leaves you gasping for a breath you know won’t come.

A second later and the light-up dance floor beneath your feet begins to sway. You blink, and it becomes the desiccated terrain of the Upside Down — again, and the glowing rainbow tiles return. Eventually, it becomes impossible to discern the real from the imaginary.

You feel a bit like the world’s caving in on itself as you stumble through the bustling crowd. The thumping of the heady bass strums throughout your body as you squeeze between a mob of sweatier ones. The merciless pounding makes you forget that your heart’s no longer beating.

The heavy breeze of a summer night smacks you in the face. There is no fresh air outside the buzzing nightclub, just more emptiness.

You lean against the brick wall, clutching desperately onto your chest as you stumble from the exit. The world around you starts to spin on its side, going blurry like you’re being pulled underwater.

You’re drowning, but none’s coming to save you.

To everyone else, you’re just a girl that’s had too many. The girl that’s lost too much.

You duck into the dark alley with the intention of withering away there.

A warm hand brings you back to life.

“Shit, Scout,” Steve Harrington curses behind you. “Are you— Are you okay?”

You’ve never heard the nickname leave his mouth so gently. You don’t think he’s ever touched you so softly, either. It’s all so foreignly tender compared to the war raging inside your skull — you think it would’ve made you weep if you were capable of catching your breath.

His presence is only startling in the sense that you hadn’t expected to find him there.

It was pretty much the reason you’d slinked through the dimly lit passageway in the first place — to die completely and utterly alone. The flickering orange lamplight and damp brick made this place more adequate for puking college kids, canoodling couples, and conniving Ted Bundy’s of the world. Not pretty Steve and his pretty clothes and his pretty hair.

You’re more humiliated at having been caught than you are alarmed by it.

You figure you really shouldn’t be. He’s already seen you at your worst. On your deathbed, crying so hard you puke, so far gone from the world that you’re practically a ghost — that kind of worst.

But for some reason, his wide palm on your shoulder makes you feel fragile. Small. He stands fathoms above you and you’re nothing but an ant under his sneaker — a little delicate thing he could crush completely if he wanted.

Instead, Steve holds you.

His long fingers cradle your trembling shoulder in a steady embrace. A warm reminder that you’re not alone in this gloomy alleyway that still thrums with life. That, in some ways, you’ve never really been alone at all.

“Yeah,” you answer finally, nodding but not looking over at him. You swallow through a tightening throat. “I just… I just need to, uh… to catch my breath.”

Steve eyes you with a gaze swimming with apprehension.

Your shoulder presses into the rough brick while your other hand clings desperately to your chest. Your fingers dig into the soft cotton of your shirt like you’re reaching for your thundering heart. Each of your breaths is ragged, forced, worked for. You grunt your way through every impossible inhale.

Facing away from him under the dim amber streetlight, he can barely make out your profile. He only gets glimpses of your scrunched face and the tear that glimmers gold on your cheek. But with his hand on your arm, he can feel the rapid up-and-down motion of your heavy breaths. Panic sizzles off of you and onto him like static shock.

“Yeah, it was getting kinda crazy in there, huh?” he says within a halfhearted laugh. “I didn’t know people like Duran Duran so much.”

It’s nothing more than a feeble attempt to get you to laugh.

And it works. Sort of.

You’d lost sight of Steve somewhere around the time “Girls on Film” came on. Nancy’s drunken hand pulled you to the dance floor, and every other tipsy woman followed right behind you. He hadn’t seemed to care much about dancing, though. He just sat in the corner booth with Robin until Vickie came by and stole her away. The last you saw him, he was sitting alone at the bar with a basket of chicken wings before disappearing entirely.

But he hadn’t disappeared, you figured. He was just here, in this eerily empty alleyway, trying to get away from it all just as much as you were.

Steve sees the corners of your mouth quirk upward in a grimacing sort of smile. A scoff sounds from your throat a moment later. He thinks that might be the sort of laugh you get from a girl who doesn’t have much to find humor in anymore.

Your newfound relief is his own.

“You okay now?” he asks once you’ve caught your breath.

You nod and settle back against the brick. The fabric of your shirt sticks to the prickly clay. “Yeah,” you repeat, more truthfully this time. “Thanks— Thank you.”

You’re forced to mourn the warmth of the broad hand on your shoulder when he pulls away from you.

He doesn’t stray far, though. He remains at your side with his back to the brick — his frame much taller than your own, broader too. His woody cologne swirls with the purer scent of a summer night and the distant smell of beer. He holds within him an air that can only be described as all-consuming. He’s exactly the feeling of everything warm despite the several inches that separate you.

Steve offers you the lit cigarette in his left hand, and for a reason you can’t name, his kindness takes you by surprise. You’ve fought a monster with the guy, but he still feels like a total stranger to you sometimes.

He sees you hesitate and thinks that this might be the first time either of you have been alone together. You don’t have anything in common except for the party. Without one of the members to accompany you, the fact becomes a heavier weight to bear.

It’s sort of like a peace offering — this half-gone cigarette. A ‘hey, I know we aren’t really friends, but maybe we could be.’

You take it. “Thanks…”

Steve watches you puff from the stick. You hold the thing between your thumb and forefinger, pinching it as you bring it up to your mouth. The huff you take isn’t a deep one, probably the fault of your still staggering breaths, but your eyes flutter shut on the exhale like you’re grateful for the nicotine fix.

He realizes then that he’s never looked at you before. Like, really looked.

Like a ghost, you tend to blend easily into the background, floating around in the shadows without ever being seen. You’re only out tonight because Robin and Nancy forced your hand, but in your darkened outfit — cropped tee, plain skirt, worn boots, all varying shades of black — you threaten to blend in with the night. You do it all with the finesse of a girl who’s all but disconnected herself from the world.

You catch him staring when you hand the cigarette back.

You don’t look weirded out by his prying gaze — quite the opposite, really. You cower under the attention, chin tilting toward your chest and a sheepish smile hinting at your lips. Embarrassed without any actual reason to be.

“Wanna tell me the real reason you came out here?” Steve asks you, covering the serious inquiry with a joking lilt.

Your brows furrow as you watch him bring the cigarette to his own mouth. He’s got this look on his face — raised brows, wide eyes, and quirked lips — almost like he’s teasing you.

You breathe out an awkward laugh.

“What do you mean? I just told you.” You try to smile, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. It looks more like you’re wincing as you shift your weight on your feet. “I just needed to—”

“To catch your breath,” Steve finishes for you, smoke billowing from his pink lips. The grey lingers between you for a moment before disappearing entirely. He nods with a lopsided grin before handing you back the cigarette. “Yeah. I heard you. I just don’t believe you.”

Your eyes go wide. He can’t tell if you’re shocked by his bluntness or if you’re embarrassed at having been caught so quickly. Maybe a healthy mixture of both.

Your throat tightens all over again. You swallow thickly as you turn away from him and it feels like you’re forcing down a too big pill. The back of your eyes burn with unshed tears, so many stinging needles that you force yourself to blink away.

And even though you’re just trying not to cry at the reality of the situation you’ve spent a year hiding from, to Steve it looks like you’re searching for a way out. Your gaze snaps to the opening of the alley where nicely dressed people bustle on the other side, their conversations far away and muffled.

He hadn’t meant to make you uncomfortable. He just thought you could use a friend, considering you were only just recovering from the windswept panic spell.

“Look. You— You tell me why you’re out here, and I’ll tell you why I am,” he offers, partly to make you feel better.

The other half of it, which he finds it startling to admit, is that he doesn’t want you to leave.

He’d spent fifteen minutes by himself in the dark — half comforted by it, half frightened. Despite his distant unfamiliarity with you, he’s weirdly comforted by your presence. Steve’s seen enough people walk away from him to know he doesn’t want you to join them.

You look at him again, more glassy-eyed than you’d been before. Your sniffle is nearly inaudible. “What do you mean?”

He shrugs. “You know… A you-show-me-yours, I’ll-show-you-mine kinda thing.”

It sounds a lot weirder coming out of his mouth than he expected it to. It makes you laugh, though, so it feels sort of worth it.

“That sounds really pervy,” you tease with a more sincere smile.

“Yeah. Sorry. Just— Maybe just ignore that last part, yeah?” he stammers stiffly, laughing softly at himself shortly after.

You finally take a hit from the cig between your fingers. Your gaze falls to your boots.

They were a gift from someone you knew a long time ago — someone you don’t know anymore because they’re gone.

It was a well-loved anniversary present you’ve worn every day since you got them. They’re a bit tattered now, obviously worn on the platformed bottoms. You don’t know how many times you’ve glued the soles back together now — or how many times you’ve tried to wash away the faded bloodstain by the laces that refuses to come out.

It’s as stuck there as the memories in your head are.

And even though you’ve never talked about it out loud, you think you could write a million words about how looking at the stain makes you feel — about all the thoughts that swirl within you at the sight of it and why you can’t throw them out despite it all. You’d write about the boy who bought them for you, whose name it’s still so hard to say — the boy who you loved who was gone.

It was just easier to shove it all down.

You kept your grief horribly discreet, like a poorly stitched-together wound.

If you couldn’t even burden yourself with it, why should you expect anyone else to?

But here Steve goes, offering to let that raging wound breathe.

Something about the ultimatum makes it more comforting. It’s a lot easier to tell a kept secret when you know another hidden confession is coming right after it. You don’t know if you’ll ever get this chance again — to shield your grief with someone else’s.

“Okay,” you answer suddenly before exhaling the gray from your lungs. You outstretch your hand to give him the cigarette back. You try to smile. “You first, though.”

Steve puffs from the stick before he answers you. For a moment, it’s nothing but muffled conversations and a stifled bass that rattles the brick. The quiet is noticeably less suffocating than all the quiets you’ve known before — less lonely now that you’ve got someone to share them with.

“I hate parties,” he summarizes with a shrug.

“Yeah, I’m gonna need a little more than that,” you joke.

He flicks the end of the cigarette to dispel the ash. Grey specks fall to the damp concrete. When he hands it off to you again, your fingers brush his own. Your skin is much cooler than the humid summer air surrounding you.

“I mean, I used to like parties. I think,” Steve explains, still rather vague, gesturing with wild hands like you’re used to. “Really, I just liked to drink, you know? ‘Cause everyone liked me when I was drunk. I was the popular guy — Mr. Funny, Mr. Cool. But, uh… I guess somewhere down the line, I forgot how to have fun like that.”

“Forgot how to have fun?” you repeat with a sad sort of laugh. Your brows scrunch and your swim with sympathy. The streetlamp casts sharp shadows on his chiseled features, but he still looks at you so soft — eyes sweet with the tenderness he holds there and smiling just the same.

It’s hard to believe that the King of Hawkins High could’ve ever felt anything other than total elation when he had a whole ocean outside his front door on Fairview Lane.

“I think they have a name for that these days, Harrington.”

He laughs and turns to press his shoulder into the brick. He’s facing you now, and it feels much more like he’s looming over you.

You remain against the wall, still a bit overwhelmed by the presence of a boy who never would’ve looked your way a year or more ago. It takes everything in you not to duck away from him completely.

“Well, I was only having fun because I was drunk, right?” he elaborates, brown eyes a golden amber beneath the flickering light. They twinkle looking down at you.

“Sure…” you shrug to humor him.

“And, like, I can deal with the hangovers and everything no problem, you know, but the… The waking up the next morning. The remembering, I guess. Remembering everything I was trying to forget when I was drinking. That’s… That’s the worst part.”

You don’t realize how intently you’re looking at him at first. Every quirk of his rosy mouth, every twitch of his bushy brow, every glint of his chocolate eyes as he divulges a deeply held secret doesn’t go unnoticed by you. Behind all the pretty hair and expensive clothes is a boy much sadder than you could’ve imagined.

Something bigger had done a number on him. Something more than the end of the world.

His upturned gaze returns to you and you realize you haven’t blinked once.

You do a rather shit job of pretending you weren’t just staring. You haphazardly turn away again, handing him the cigarette despite not having put your mouth to it.

“Yeah, I— I get what you mean…”

Your words seem to surprise him. His brows pinch like he was more prepared to be made fun of than empathized. He takes the cig from you with an absentminded hand. It goes quickly forgotten.

“You do?”

“Well, not so much with drinking, but… It happens to me in the morning sometimes,” you shrug, feigning nonchalance, and trying not to seem like it’s a phenomenon you’ve experienced every day for a year and a half. “It’s, like, that split second of bliss right before the grief comes back, right?”

Steve blinks owlishly. Then nods.

“That half a moment where nothing bad’s ever happened to you, and it’s just the sun shining on you before the… the bad shit comes back again. Like it never even left.”

And Steve, who’s never met another person who could so easily understand him and that otherwise indescribable feeling so perfectly, is stunned into silence.

Maybe it’s his fault for keeping it all to himself, like a love letter he can’t bring himself to unfold. It’s entirely likely that he could find a million people in the world who’ve felt all the same feelings he’s garnered over the past couple of years. It still wouldn’t hold the same weight as being understood now — being understood by someone who’s been through the end of the world with him.

Being understood without all the empty words.

“Yeah,” he nods finally, clearing his throat. His cheeks glow red when he realizes he’d forgotten to speak because he was too busy looking at you. “Yeah, exactly— Shit!”

The sides of his fingers sting with a sharp ache. The cig in his hand drops to the ground, half the size of his pinky. There isn’t much left of it now, and that’s why it burns him so. It hits the concrete, more ash than stick. The skin of Steve’s finger blackens as it blazes.

“Oh— Are you okay?” you grimace.

Steve snuffs out the burning cigarette with the toe of his sneaker.

“Yeah, I— I just wasn’t paying attention,” he dismisses with the shake of his head, more so at himself than anything else. It’s the first time he’s had an actual conversation with you, and he’s already embarrassed himself twice. He’ll count himself lucky if you care enough to talk to him again.

“Your go, Scout,” he offers suddenly in a measly attempt to get the attention off of him and his blunder. He wipes the ash from his pointer and middle finger on his jeans. “See if you can out-miserable me.”

You roll your eyes at him, still smiling. “What is this? The trauma olympics?”

“C’mon. I’m kidding,” he assures with a lilt. He reaches out to nudge your arm with his knuckles and, like before, his touch is almost too soft for you to feel it. The act of platonic intimacy takes you momentarily by surprise.

His smile is crooked. His eyes glimmer with honey. “I was kidding,” he repeats.

“It was just that, um— that song,” you answer. It comes out more choked than you expected it to. “They started playing that song.”

Steve’s brows furrow. “What song?” he asks. Not pressing. Only curious.

“That one that… that Eddie played when I…”

“Oh.”

“I used to love that stupid song— I mean, obviously. It sorta saved me from what should’ve been an unavoidable death, so…” You manage to laugh at yourself as you ramble.

Steve can’t find it in himself to do the same.

He’d been terrified when it happened to Max — when the kid he was involuntarily babysitting started to float in midair, nearly succumbing to the curse of a monster that should’ve been make-believe. He was relieved when she fell back down again, but you? He was certain you were a goner.

You were too high up and Eddie’s guitar was too far away. The beginning notes of I Was Made For Lovin’ You were too grim and Vecna’s claws were in too deep. You were too distant, too banished.

For several agonizing seconds, you were destined to remain a stranger to him.

But here you are now, sharing cigarettes and secrets.

Your eyes squeeze shut as you shake your head at yourself. “But, um, anyway. Yeah. It’s just… Sometimes things will happen, you know? Like I’ll— I’ll hear a song or… I’ll see something that reminds me of him— of Eddie. And it’s just like…”

“…Like you’re in the Upside Down again?” Steve finishes gently for you when he sees that you can’t.

You nod, wordlessly for a moment, until the words catch up with you.

“Like nightmares, but when I’m awake,” you force through a closing throat. “And they’re so real. Like… I can— I can hear him. I can hear him talking to me, and I’m— I’m holding him, and I can feel him breathing, you know? He’s still breathing, but—”

You take a staggering breath in. For a moment, Steve’s scared you’re tumbling headfirst into another panic attack.

His attentive eyes flit between your scrunched up face and the trembling hands you hold out in front of you. You’re cradling something that isn’t there anymore. You look down at your palms with a horror that tells him you understand that, too — that the person you used to hold isn’t able to be held anymore.

“I can feel the… the blood. And it’s just… It’s all over me. And I’m losing him. I’m losing him all over again—”

You hiccup a measly sob when your lungs force you to take a breath you didn’t know you were holding. It puts an end to your rambling. You’re grateful enough for it. You’d already said more than you were planning to — more than you thought you’d say in a lifetime.

You think you must sound deranged, talking about a corpse like it’s still a warm body you hold every night.

In some ways, it is.

You sniffle and blink back burning tears. Your smile edges on sincerity. “So, what do you think, Harrington? Did I out-miserable you?”

Steve scoffs in the place of a real laugh. “I didn’t have a dog in that fight, did I? What you went through… I mean, I shouldn’t even be complaining.”

“Hey, c’mon,” you scold gently. “We both went through shit. It was all bad, no matter how you look at it. Just because we didn’t go through the same stuff doesn’t mean what happened to you is any less important.”

You just barely catch his cinnamon eyes going glassy before he turns away from you entirely. His stubbled cheeks blotch with varying shades of pink, glowing with an emotion he can’t keep hidden. He looks down at his dirty sneakers because he can’t bare to look at you now.

Understanding, that’s what this is. Understanding without all the empty words.

It’s still hard for him to believe them, though.

In the grand scheme of things, what happened to him wasn’t so terrible.

He wasn’t under any sort of curse. No one he cared about was irrevocably hurt, either. And he didn’t have to hold someone he loved in his arms while they bled to death — doesn’t have to feel like he’s still holding onto them a year after it all.

Despite the marred scars on his mind and body, Steve convinces himself that he has no reason to be sad — even though that’s not really how sadness works. Grief isn’t the kind of thing you can just will away, but he beats himself up when he can’t — when the heartache wins.

It’s a never-ending cycle. A loop he’s been stuck in since he was seventeen. A portal he was terrified would never close.

Now, at least, it feels sort of possible.

“You shouldn’t talk like that, Scout,” he jokes after the urge to weep has passed. He tilts his head to his shoulder and smiles a crooked grin. “I’m gonna start to think you like me.”

Without missing a beat, you retort: “Please, never ever think that. That would completely shatter my reputation.”

You both laugh with the knowing that it’s all just a joke.

You never had much of a reputation because you spent your whole life being invisible. You liked it best that way because never being seen meant nothing was ever expected of you. You’ll happily take someone you went to school with your entire life never knowing your name than any bogus Hawkins High royalty status any day.

Steve, better known by his title of King, wishes now that he’d taken a page out of your book. He learned the power of invisibility far too late.

“Who woulda thought, huh?” the boy sighs, chocolate eyes turned up to the velvet blue sky. “You and me… being friends.”

You arch a brow at him. “Oh, is that what we are now?”

“Oh, yeah,” Steve scoffs like it’s obvious. “They didn’t tell you? You fight monsters together, and you’re bonded for life.”

“Is that so?”

“Absolutely. I mean, why do you think me and Henderson are so close?”

“So you’re saying you would’ve never been friends if it wasn’t for the end of the world?” you reiterate with a challenging squint.

“That’s almost exactly what I’m saying. Yeah,” he nods with his pink lips jutted softly out. “If none of that shit ever happened, I’d still be that raging douchebag I used to be. My life would be… so much different.”

“Worse?” you press.

He thinks for a moment.

Without the whole end-of-the-world thing, he never would’ve met Dustin. He never would’ve gotten closer to Robin. Nancy never would’ve had a reason to break up with him, and he figures he’d have long settled down with her by now. They’d be that miserable couple that somehow manages to make it.

He’d probably still be friends with Tommy Hagan, too, getting drunk at parties he’s too old to be at. He’d still be the King Steve everyone loved and hating every second of it.

Fighting monster after monster changed him for the better. Even with its horror, how could he ever take that back?

He winces at the realization. “Yeah…”

“So you’d do it all over again?” you ask, dumbfounded.

“I think so, yeah.” Steve’s smile is shy as he ducks his gaze, peering at you through his lashes. “I’m a total idiot, right?”

Your brows pinch together as you shake your head. “No. I don’t think so… Actually, I think the end of the world looks pretty good on you, Harrington.”

He knows you don’t mean it how it sounds. He gets the feeling you’re talking less about his appearance and more about why he’s standing out here in the first place — talking to a girl he’s halfway known all his life whose name he didn’t know until she almost died.

For the same reason — the one that’s brought you to him and this alley — he jokes back: “It looks good on you, too, Scout.”

Again, you laugh with the understanding that you’re joking. For the most part, at least.

You’re both so weathered with grief, looking much older than your years, forced to wear your woe all over. For whatever transformation the trauma might’ve done internally, it hadn’t done anything on the outside than leave scars that won’t fade.

When the laughter subsides, a silence roars to life.

Not a total one. You can still hear the pounding bass from inside The Velvet Lounge and the muddled chatter of people coming in and out of it. It’s not a totally uncomfortable one either, which is far more than you thought you could ever say about talking to Steve The Hair Harrington.

But it’s still sort of heavy in its way. Likely with the idea of what the both of you know and of everything you’ve confessed out loud.

Now that it’s all out in the open, Steve’s got no idea how to move on. How is he supposed to joke around now? How does he say anything but sorry to the girl who holds all her grief in her eyes?

“Hey, Scout?” he calls quietly.

Your leftover grin hasn’t yet faded. “Hm?”

“I’m… I’m really sorry.”

The smile ebbs entirely.

“Why are you apologizing?” you ask with the shake of your head, almost flinching at the sudden condolence. “You didn’t… You’re not the one that killed Eddie.”

“I know. I just… I feel like I should— like I should say it, you know?”

“That’s the worst part about all of this, I think. Like… you lose someone, and no one knows how to talk to you anymore,” you confess, a sad smile hinting at the very corners of your lips — so soft it’s barely there. Your gaze falls to your boots again. “Everyone just feels so sorry for you all the time. All anyone ever wants to do is talk about what happened like I don’t have to think about it enough, you know? It just… It makes it impossible to move on.”

Steve winces. He can’t ever say the right thing. “I’m sorry—”

“Stop apologizing,” you tell him, laughing. “I’m not saying that— I’m just… I’m just saying. I think it’d be easier if I didn’t have to stay here. You know, where everything happened. If I could… Like, if I could just go, I think that maybe I could get better.”

“You could,” Steve affirms with a nod.

Your brows furrow. “Get better?”

“Well, yeah,” he shrugs, amber gaze flitting between your glittering eyes and his dirty sneakers. “And… And leave. You know, if you wanted to.”

The thought alone makes you laugh. “By myself? With no car? Barely any money?”

“You wouldn’t have to go alone,” he promises.

“Yeah?” you scoff, still grinning like it’s all a joke to you. “And who would want to run away with a girl with a broken heart?”

He answers without thinking and with a lopsided smile. “The boy with nothing to lose.”

Your smile fades with the heavy weight of his offer.

It isn’t just about running away. It’s about running away together — two people with nothing in common besides a mutual hatred for a dark wizard from the underworld, ditching a town that hasn’t done shit for them, and pretending like nothing’s ever hurt them.

And at first, you’re shocked. Who wouldn’t be with such an offer thrown at their feet? But then, and more than anything else, you’re confused. Why would Steve want to run away? you think to yourself. Why would he want to run away with you?

When the bolt blue finally dissipates, you’re left with a simmering feeling of disbelief.

Steve shouldn’t want this, and he shouldn’t want it with you.

“You’re drunk,” you conclude, smiling because it’s a joke again.

“Yeah. Maybe,” Steve shrugs with his gaze pointed to the sky. The stars are hidden beneath layers of light and pollution. They’re out there somewhere, but he can’t see them — not from where he is now. He looks back to you, a sheepish smile playing on his pink mouth. “But… I’m not.”

“Would you seriously want to leave?” you squint. With me, you keep to yourself, unsaid.

“I’ve, uh— I’ve been wanting to for a while, actually. Even before all of… this,” he confesses, waving his hand out into the ether. He grins in reminiscence, but not the fond kind. “My dad— he’s just been dogging me about work and college and everything, you know? I think he wants me to be the same big shot business douchebag that he is, and I get it, but…”

You lean closer to him, brows furrowed. “But what?” you press.

Steve exhales a sad laugh. “I really don’t wanna end up like my dad,” he admits — a thought he kept like a thorn in his side finally said out loud. “And I’m scared that, if I stay here, I will.”

“So you’ve just been looking for a way out. All this time?” you wonder aloud. While I thought you were on top of the world, you were wanting out of it.

Steve shrugs, then nods.

“And a girl with nothing to lose?” you joke.

“Yeah,” he chuckles softly to himself. “That, too.”

You turn away from him again, deep in thought. Steve mourns your gaze — its attentiveness more than anything, the way you look at him and seem to understand him without saying a goddamn word. He didn’t think that was possible before now.

You think to yourself for a moment. Mostly because it’s something you know you should think about before you do it.

How will you pay your way? Where will you go? What will you do when you get there?

What will your parents say when they notice you’re gone? How long will it take before they do?

Who’ll feed the stray cats outside the trailer park?

Who’ll leave flowers at Eddie’s grave once a month and clean it when it’s ultimately vandalized by assholes who still think he was a mass murderer sent from Hell to do Satan’s bidding?

There’s a lot of questions you don’t have answers for.

What little you do know, though, you’re certain of.

You know there’s nothing left for you in Hawkins.

You don’t have much family — especially not since Eddie — and your friends aren’t really your friends. Sure, Nancy invites you out from time to time, but she’d never call you to dish about secrets and shared trauma in this way. Sometimes you think they only include you because your boyfriend died, and they all saw what it did to you.

And you also know that there’s nothing holding you back but grief. To absolve yourself from it all, to finally move the fuck on, you’re going to have to leave it all behind. It’s not like you’d be missing much anyway.

You’re still a ghost because you live in a soul-sucking town full of people who only want to talk to you when it’s to remind you that the only person you’ve ever loved is dead.

Nothing has brought you back to life quite like this boy and his secrets and offer to run away.

You think you’d been an idiot to walk away from it. From him.

“Fuck it.”

Steve almost flinches at how feverishly you turn to face him again.

His brows raise to his hairline, honey eyes going wide at the abrupt nature of your sudden reply. “…Fuck it?” he echoes, not nearly as confident as you’d said it — just grateful that you’d said it at all.

For a boy who always expects rejection, your innate acceptance of him and his previously kept secrets makes his chest swell with so much warmth that it’s started to burn him. He can feel his ribcage turning to ash and his heart melting as he speaks.

“Fuck it,” you nod, more serious than he’s ever seen you.

You turn to face him fully, something you’d been too timid to do just minutes ago. You’re more sure now — of him, of this. The proximity between your bodies forces you to tilt your head up to look at him. Similarly, his chin falls to his chest to peer at you.

Tucked away in this alley, you’re made of shadows and shades of gold. The lamplight still flickers over your heads. The brick still shakes with the drumming, muffled bass. You don’t realize until now that you can feel your heart beating again.

“Let’s do it,” you shrug with a blast of hopeful anticipation swelling in your chest, more optimistic than you’ve been in a year. “Nothing to lose, right?”

Steve grins.

“Nothing to lose,” he repeats, reminding himself of the fact when reality starts to set in on him. Even if he fails, even if it all goes wrong and he’s waking up in his childhood bed a week from now, he can’t get any lower than rock bottom. Besides, now he’s got you to fall back on, right?

“Fuck it.”

★。／｜＼。★

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things imagine #steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #yoyok

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kisskiss-slashslash · 1 year

Note

Hey 🙂

Really enjoying your writings.

May I request the slashers - the usual suspects (Jason/Michael/Sinclairs/Thomas) and anyone else if you want, mistaking their fem s.o for being romantic with someone else (like the situation with this other person looks totally sketch and could be construed for something not so innocent but its absolutely innocent - s.o would never cheat).

How would the slashers initially react and how would they feel and go about the situation.

❤

Warnings: Implied sexual harassment

Slashers and mistaking their s/o for being romantic with someone else

Jason Voorhees

He sees you holding a male camper’s hand as you walk away from the camp, and finds his heart breaking. Is he not enough? And if he isn’t, why would *that one* be?

Jason follows the two of you quietly, trying to see where this is going. He does not want to believe that you would truly cheat on him. But you give that camper sultry looks, and every time you do, Jason’s heart breaks a little more.

Finally, you arrive at a small clearing, far away from the camp.

“Now come on, honey, let daddy have some sugar”, the guy says, making grabby hands in the general direction of your chest.

“Oh I’ll let you have *something*, alright”, you say with a grin and, in one fluid motion, pull the small knife from your pocket and bury the blade in his throat.

“Shhh, no screaming, we don’t want to alert the others now, do we?”, you coo in a faux-comforting tone while his yellow camp shirt slowly turns red.

Jason comes out from between the trees and looks at you, bewildered.

You give him an apologetic smile. “There you are, love. Did you see all of that? Sorry. But this one was so gross that I just had to kill him myself.”

Now Jason just feels silly for ever doubting you.

Vincent Sinclair

He finally leaves his workshop for the day and wants to spend the rest of it with you, only to find you on the couch, with Lester leaning on you. It definitely looks like you’re cuddling.

Vincent feels like someone pulled the rug from under him. If you were to ever leave him, he would expect it to maybe be for Bo, but for Lester?

You and Lester both look up, and now Vincent notices that his youngest brother looks, quite frankly, miserable.

“Lester isn’t feeling well”, you tell Vincent in a soft voice. “Bo just left to the next town over, to get some meds, and asked me to take care of him until then.”

Lester coughs heavily. “Sorry, Bro. Didn’t mean to hog your girl.”

With his jealously forgotten, his protective older sibling instincts kick in, and he quickly sits down on Lester’s other side, putting his hand on his forehead. The youngest Sinclair is definitely running a decently high fever.

“If you let him lean on you for a bit, I can get up and make him some tea”, you say, and Vincent immediately agrees.

Freddy Krueger

He does not like you cozying up to other people, and being stuck in your subconscious, unable to do anything unless you fall asleep, sure isn’t helping.

Why are you watching horror movies with this loser? Why are you laughing so much? There you are, even casually mentioning Freddy by name, that should be enough of an indicator that you are unavailable, so why is this idiot still here?!

Once you fall asleep, Freddy confronts you about it. “I’ve killed significant others for less petty reasons before, bitch.”

“Okay? Sorry that I was trying to help you, I guess.”

“Help me?”

“Uhm, yeah? Did you not hear me tell him about you? Take a wild guess who the guy is gonna be thinking about when he goes to sleep tonight, and how those thoughts are gonna make him feel.”

Freddy presses his lips together. “...Fine, I guess. But next time, find a way to tell people about me without whoring yourself out to them, got it?”

Brahms Heelshire

You are getting just a tad to friendly with the new grocery delivery guy, and Brahms does not like that. It gives him flashbacks to Greta. So he tries to keep your attention away from the guy as well as he can. He unplugs the phone every time he calls, he demands your full attention during the times the man would be there and just generally tries to keep your eyes where they should be.

Finally, you have enough.

“Brahms, what is going on?!”

He keeps his eyes fixed on the ground. “Do you love him?”

“Huh?”

“The delivery man. Do you love him?”

“Wha- Oh. Is this what this is about?” You sit down on Brahms’ bed and gesture for him to do the same.

“That man is my cousin”, you finally tell him. “Kinda distant though. I found out when I did one of those genetics tests you can order from the internet for fun.”

“So… You’re not gonna leave with him?”

“Hell no. I told him I got a great thing going here. But he’s also the only blood related family I have any real access to here, so I’m trying to maintain a good relationship with him.”

“Oh… okay, I think I understand.”

Bubba Sawyer

Subtle flirting is kind of part of business, especially when dealing with customers as a woman. You explained as much to Bubba when Drayton had the idea of you earning your keep by helping out with peddling his chili to people. But that doesn’t mean he has to like it. In the rare cases where he gets to watch from afar as you charm the customers into getting seconds, he finds himself irritatedly fiddling with his chainsaw.

One night, you come home, pull the hair net from your head and heavily sit down next to Bubba.

“What a day”, you grumble. “I swear, some of these people think they can treat me however they like just because they pay some chump change for Drayton’s chili.”

Now that catches Bubba’s attention. He looks at you, confused.

“What, you didn’t think that I *like* getting hit on by randos every day, did you?”, you say. “I want to tell them that I am married, but Drayton doesn’t want me to. Says they’re paying for the view and that feeling like they’re encroaching on another guy’s territory is going to scare them away.”

Now Bubba coos empathetically and begins rubbing small circles on your back, to help you relax. Now that he knows that you don’t like it, he feels a lot better about it.

#slasher x reader #jason voorhees x reader #brahms heelsire x reader #bubba sawyer x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #freddy krueger x reader

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bomber-grl · 7 days

Note

fluffy touch-starved Prompt #15 for Leo? His hair surely gets veeery dirty, after all!

Prompt #15: washing the other's hair

Leo told you about his past before, so you were very much painfully aware of his struggles. Particularly, in the romance department.

He told you how it was. He liked girls, they never liked him back. Plus with how he was couch surfing, affection was practically a foreign concept to him.

Sure, his friends showed they cared but your relationship isn’t just platonic, it goes beyond that.

Today you and Leo went your separate ways as usual. The two of you met while aboard the Argo II and became close.

Things are constantly a hassle while aboard, everything that could go wrong goes wrong and there was no thing such as luck while aboard navigating the ancient lands.

Luckily, amongst all the noise you managed to find peace and quiet to rest and have some solitude.

But, you soon heard a knocking on your door and thus your long awaited nap would have to be even more long awaited.

Upon opening the door, you noticed it to be Leo.

“Leo? What’re you doing here, aren’t you supposed to be sleeping by now?” You asked this but anyone who saw him could tell he was busy doing something.

“Well I was actually working on repairs, hence the dirt” he motioned to his entire being.

You hummed “well this might be weird and if you’re too uncomfortable then go ahead and ignore but do you want me to wash your hair?.”

He was clearly taken a back, even if only slightly then quickly answered “sure, I wouldn’t mind.” It was strange to see Leo not teasing you but you just assumed it to be the tiredness and moved on.

You gently led Leo into one of the bathrooms on board by hand, the hope of not running into Coach Hedge was left unsaid.

Immediately you had him propped against the sink on the most comfortable seat you could find aboard.

As you went to get a shampoo you hear Leo’s voice echo from the bathroom “what made you want to wash my hair?”

The question was phrased in a way that’d seem sarcastic but his tone indicated genuine curiosity.

“Well, I guess I just wanted to wash it? There isn’t really a reason, Leo. I just want to do something for you in the little free time we have.” Leo didn’t say anything else.

You carried the shampoo and poured some onto your hand, you turned the water on and began running your fingers through his hair.

Slowly but surely some dirt and soot came out, not as much as you expected that’s for sure.

Leos sudden sigh brought you out of your thoughts. “What’s wrong?” You asked to be sure everything was alright.

“Nothing, I’m just enjoying this, no one’s ever washed my hair before.” You had placed a towel over his face to prevent water from getting on it, thus obscuring your view of him.

You hummed in acknowledgement and he continued “I know it’s just a simple favor but it’s just been a long time since anyone’s done anything for me ,to make me happy.”

You knew it was true. His mom was probably the last one to genuinely show him any love, that alone was sad, it had been eight years. Plus, as mentioned before, he didn’t really date. He was clearly referring to both.

You didn’t say anything and just continued washing through his hair until it the water ran clean of any bubbles.

Then, you left him alone to wash his body, he was still dirty after all.

Eventually he made his way back into your room, you noticed when the door shut with a click.

“Hey” Leo began “I hope the talk about not being able to pull didn’t upset you” he tried making light of the situation.

“It didn’t, but you don’t have to hide behind jokes either” you said this patting the space next to you in bed.

He shut the lights off and laid besides you. You laughed a bit “let’s hope coach hedge doesn’t find us like this.”

Leo also let his own laugh out and eventually you both settled. “I’m just happy you’re here with me right now.”

You smiled despite knowing there was no way for Leo to see it. You moved your hand closer to him and it found its way into Leo’s. Your fingers interlocked and you only hoped that with your fingers intertwined, that he’d get the sentiment.

No words were spoken and you both drifted off to sleep land. Eventually, your bodies found themselves snuggled up against one another.

Was there a possibility of being found out and banned from being alone? Sure but even if you did get found out you didn’t care, you just wanted Leo to feel loved.

#fanfic #gn reader #male reader #fluff #fanfic fluff #female reader #fluff headcanons #leo valdez x female reader #leo valdez x male reader #leo valdez fluff #leo valdez pjo #leo valdez x reader #pjo leo #bad boy supreme #rick riordanverse #rick riordan

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greenboyfriend · 4 months

Text

choose a fish to fill you with whimsy & glee! (tarot reading)

"what can you look forward to?" image 1: this guy's got it all figured out. he's able to breathe above water due to the bowl of water superglued to his face. one might even assume he has prosthetic legs, or perhaps even feet... image 2: the ideal male figure... you may not like it, but it's a fish with a broom as a tail and no internal organs. image 3: a fish that doesn't resemble anything in particular. no... not at all! image source not everything may resonate with you, and that's ok! take what does & leave the rest. don't force it.

1.・。.・゜✭

you guys!!! there is something very wonderful in store for you, so long as you’re able to get yourself out of this rut! you may be feeling powerless, suffering some sort of attack, and being forced into the role of the victim. however! justice means to tell you that there is a major change that must be made on your part. instead of letting yourself be victimized, take action! use those emotions you’re feeling to tackle this challenge with passion– take that risk!! don’t be afraid to get creative, too. above all, and no matter what it takes, you’re going to need to address this, and with confidence. in a broader sense, this situation is teaching you how to overcome a fear of yours. maybe you’re not the best at asserting yourself, but that’s ok! we’re all learning!! take this as a step in the right direction. the extremely right direction, i might add, as the 9 of cups and justice seem to imply, this will be a very fruitful endeavor for you. the 9 of cups is often referred to as the “wish” card, because it represents having your wish fulfilled. after you take action, i see this result leaving you feeling quite pleased with yourself, and even a little smug! as you may know, justice is no card to be trifled with, so keep in mind that the actions you take regarding this situation will heed important results. do what you know is right and believe in yourself! you can do it!!! all of these cards are reversed-- except 10 of swords-- indicating that they're meant to inform your future actions (in the next few days, or next week). so don't worry if you haven't thought about it too much yet. but please remember that justice does not play! believe in yourself, you'll know when the time is right. there is some 18+ info beyond this point... click the link to read the rest but be warned its literally 2 sentences and NO ONE UNDER 18 SHOULD fucking READ IT! /srs link

(10 of swords, page of wands reversed, 9 of cups reversed, justice reversed)

2.・。.・゜✭

hello my silly little broom fish. you’ve been working hard! if you haven’t, expect to work hard soon! you will be taking on a new project or adventure, which will require your full attention. i’m thinking, some of you guys might be taking a new class, or be receiving training of some kind. you’re going to need to put your all into this! you may already have an idea of what to expect, but some things will be new, too. take the time to really get into the minute details, tie up loose ends, and recheck, then rerecheck, and rererecheck just for good measure. this may also be a way for you to expand your horizons, and become a leader. if you have a good idea, share it! you may end up showing others the way, and being a representative of some kind. remember, though, to be painstaking about this, and really brush up on those fine details. along the way, make sure you’re keeping yourself on course. if you need a moment to reflect and think about where you’re going, consider it a part of the process. while it is also a good idea to consider other perspectives, keep in mind that you’re here for a reason. you may have to assert your position & really push for your way of doing things. again, if someone else has an idea, don’t underestimate it, but don’t underestimate yourself, either! this may take the form of having to resist authority, and you may have to be firm. in doing this, you may also be able to reap a reward of some kind! remember, there are so many people in the world that would push for their perspective no matter what, even if they haven't researched it at all. based on the 8 of pentacles, you most certainly have researched, so believe in yourself! make that stand!!... well, when it comes to. all of these cards are reversed, so this situation is likely to come into fruition in the future-- in the next few days, or possibly next week. mull over it for a while. when you start to see the signs, seize your opportunity!

(8 of pentacles reversed, 3 of wands reversed, 7 of pentacles reversed, 7 of wands reversed)

3.・。.・゜✭

ok go off!!!! or somefin it’s time to commit to that regimen. whether that’s eating healthier, taking more time for yourself, or, if you’re like me, trying to practice more self kindness, creating an organized structure/routine is likely to help. so, for example, i’ll take my own life into account: i’ll often think certain thoughts can make me feel bad about myself without me totally realizing it, and lately i’ve been trying to change how i talk to myself. i use a systematic approach, in that i recognize the thought, then force myself to replace it with a positive one, instead. it seems silly at first, but the more that i stick to this method, the more success i’m seeing! this is just my example, but can be applied to your own situation! it’s always tough to start something new, but a month or two in, or maybe even a week, you see improvement. & it’s ok to make mistakes! you may be focusing too much on what you lack, or your shortcomings. there may also be setbacks keeping you from achieving your goals, or maybe you’re convinced that you made the wrong decision. know that it’s always darkest before the dawn!! you may be in a bad place right now, and if you are, consider how you can make things easier on yourself. instead of letting yourself be a martyr, or feel powerless, do what you know will make you feel better. like that new god forsaken ariana venti song, be your own damn best… friend. it’s wise counsel. both of the readings above this are about the future, but for you, i think this is very much about the present. with all cards facing you except temperance, there is a story unfolding, where you complete some unfinished business, and find peace. the peace part is likely in the future, with it being reversed and all, but the time for action seems imminent, or already happening. i think you probably know what you need to do. whatever those plans are that you’ve been sitting on, make them happen! i just keep getting “declare yourself openly”!!! so do with that what you will. you may even discover some sort of missing truth, keeping you from seeing things fully. you may also be swept up into the tides of change, and witness all the elements fit seamlessly into place. so hey! enjoy!

(the emperor, 5 of cups, 8 of wands, 10 of swords, temperance reversed)

#tarot #tarotblr #tarot reading #tarotcommunity #tarot cards #pick a card #pick a picture #pick a pile #spiritual #spirituality #witchblr #witchcraft #witch community #pac #pacs #pick a fish #pick a photo #pick an image

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 3 months

Note

I am STILL waiting for Rollo to burst into Sage Island out of sheer anger and spite. Come on, you can't prove the man right after GloMas and NOT let him make a cameo in episode seven!!

While I do love Rollo and I'm all for vindicating him (especially as both JP and EN servers dropped book 7 part 1 right after initial runs of GloMasq), I want to make it clear and reiterate that I 100% believe Rollo will NOT be showing up in the main story, cameo or otherwise. I'd advise everyone else to not get their hopes up as well, just enjoy the fan works that come out playing with the idea 💦

Here's a compilation of why this couldn't happen, as I have spoken about this topic a number of times in the past:

Rollo showing up would imply that the events of Glorious Masquerade (which takes place around Halloween time) are canonical to the main story, even though this would create many continuity errors. For example, Deuce's UM, which is very important to GloMasq, is not gained until book 5 (which occurs in late winter, early spring). GloMasq cannot take place autumn after Deuce gets his UM either, as the third years would all be gone on their internships. Another continuity error that is recently created by book 7 part 7 is that Silver + Sebek and Idia do not seem to know each other (they have to introduce themselves to one another), meanwhile they seem quite familiar in GloMasq.

There is no reasonable way that Rollo would even KNOW what is going on or be able to breach Malleus's barrier. Only high-level officials such as Briar Valley royalty and those in STYX seem to be aware of the ongoing situation and even they have trouble trying to break into Sage's Island. Why and how would Rollo have this same knowledge, then somehow get inside Malleus's barrier?

This could set up a precedent which puts more unnecessary pressure on the devs and the direction they take future stories. It's not fair if Rollo is the ONLY Halloween character that gets to show up in the main story (especially this late into it), that would be favoritism. This creates the expectation for devs to somehow find ways to give Fellow and other future Halloween characters cameos or some relevance in the main story.

Not everyone has played GloMasq or read its story. For the people who have, it's a nice treat I guess? But for those who haven’t (even with the new feature that lets you read missed events, there is no guarantee that everyone has), this is coming out of left field and makes zero sense if they don't have context for who Rollo is. There is little gain from having him show up for the risk of alienating late or casual players, no matter how brief the cameo.

A simple summary of who he is and what he did could be implemented, but it really detracts from the experience of going through it yourself and disrupts the pacing of book 7 in order to "make space" and "play catch-up" for this other character that was NEVER previously mentioned or alluded to in ALL of the main story. This is just... not good writing in general. This would read as a convenient deus ex machina for anyone unfamiliar with Rollo. It's not the same thing as the dorm members from the previous book coming to help you save the day in the current book. At least in that situation, there is a shared understanding of the main story campaign and a practically guaranteed bond with those characters. The same is not true of Rollo, whom you as Yuu barely get to interact with that much even in his event.

To summarize, it's just not pragmatic, especially when you consider all the implications of bringing an event-only characters into the main story. There is a good reason why vignettes and events were indicated to NOT be in the same timeline or canon as the main story: to avoid contradictions and issues such as the ones I have listed above.

#twst #Rollo Flamme #Malleus Draconia #Deuce Spade #twisted wonderland #disney twst #book 7 spoilers #glorious masquerade spoilers #notes from the writing raven #disney twisted wonderland #twst en #twisted wonderland en #Silver #Sebek Zigvolt #Idia Shroud #Fellow Honest

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moonknightly · 1 year

Text

we’re so lost we can’t help but to think

mk system x reader, but mostly marc x reader

word count: 2.6k

warnings: this is angsty af i’m sorry lol. childhood trauma and abuse, mentions of death and grief, possible suicidal ideation if you squint, major anxiety and panic attacks, nightmares, mentions of hospitals, unedited writing

excerpt: “It just makes him feel like you’ve been expecting this, like you’ve always known that being with him would only end in tragedy.”

Steven has his own body again. Marc thinks he’s looking in the mirror at first but no, he definitely has his own body. There’s nothing to bounce his reflection off of, no glass wall between them. He’s just there, standing in a white room that reminds him so much of the hospital and Marc’s head hurts and he wonders if he’s dying again. The pounding is so intense.

He blinks a few times, like maybe that will clear everything up, like maybe he’s just hallucinating because of this fucking migraine but Steven is still there, looking at him like he’s just as confused. Marc looks down at his clothes just to further confirm but they’re wearing different things and Marc can’t feel his curls hanging in his face like Steven’s are.

Were Steven’s curls a mess though or is that just what Marc is used to? He looks up again to double check but the scene has changed. Steven is still there, but so are you. There’s another sharp throbbing in his head and he groans, closing his eyes for a moment or two in search of some relief and when he opens them again you’re both sitting in chairs.

You’re both tied down, ropes binding your arms to your sides and securing your backs to the chairs. Marc’s feet won’t move, no matter how hard he tries to run forward they just won’t move. He’s glued to the spot, not mentally but physically. He just can’t move.

“Marc, what’s going on?” Steven asks, his voice quiet and timid. Not at all what Marc is used to coming from his alter. Steven has always been the brave one.

You say his name too just a second later, tone panicked and he hates it. He hates watching you struggle when he knows he could have you out of your binds in five seconds if he could just get his fucking feet to move.

“I don’t know,” he breaths, feeling his own chest swell with anxiety and panic. He really has no idea. “Are you, fuck, are you hurt?” He’s trying so hard to keep himself from falling into a panic attack.

“No, no don’t worry. We’re fine,” Steven says, trying to keep them all calm but especially Marc, just like he always has. “Aren’t we?”

His question is directed towards you and even though you’re still struggling, you nod, forcing yourself to take deep breath after deep breath. You don’t even seem to process that your boyfriends have their own bodies, not really and Marc doesn’t think that's a good indication of where your head is at. He just wants to fix it but he’s stuck.

There’s movement out of the corner of his eye and his head snaps to the left. He sees Harrow walking into the room and his stomach instantly fills with dread, chest on fire as anger ignites and burns in his veins. He thought he was dead, shouldn’t he be dead? He remembers Jake and the limo and-

Fuck, he doesn’t know where Jake is. His head is too quiet.

Or is Jake the reason it’s pounding?

He doesn’t know, doesn’t have time to think about it for too long because Harrow is getting too close to Steven and to you and he doesn’t fucking like it. He doesn’t fucking like that he’s stuck in place and for the first time in forever he doesn’t fucking like that he doesn’t have Khonshu’s powers to save him.

“Stay away from them,” Marc growls, voice low and dangerous and eyes piercing.

Harrow looks almost amused and that only makes him angrier.

“I don’t think you’re really in a position to tell me what to do, are you Marc?” he hums, stepping behind Steven. He’s calm, just like he always fucking is, his voice holding its usual arrogance and assertiveness. “I don’t think you’re really in a position to do much at all.”

Helpless. He’s calling Marc helpless and it’s like a punch to the gut, an unwanted reminder of everything he’d ever done wrong and how he had to create another person to carry the weight. Marc physically bites his tongue so hard blood fills his mouth.

“Just let them go.” His voice is desperate and he hates it, honestly, but he needs them. He needs them. “Please.”

“Oh Marc,” Harrow laughs, shaking his head as he moves behind you, fingers trailing along your shoulder and it makes Marc bristle. He wants to break Harrow’s wrist. “I can’t do that.”

Marc grunts as he tries to get his feet to move again but it doesn’t work. Of course it doesn’t. Nothing ever goes his way.

“Why not?” He feels stupid asking but he doesn’t no what else to do or say and fuck the last time he felt this helpless was in the cave-

Gods, his head fucking hurts.

“Because,” Harrow sighs, like what he’s about to say pains him but his face, his expression gives him away. It doesn’t. “You never paid for your sins.”

Marc furrows his eyebrows at the same moment you do, but Steven’s eyes widen. At least one of them understands. Marc doesn’t want to ask, and he doesn’t have to. Harrow keeps talking.

“All of the hurt and pain you’ve caused everyone. Your mother’s sorrow-”

“No,” Marc snaps, shaking his head. “No, I fucking paid enough already-”

“-that you caused when you took your brother’s life.”

“I didn’t kill him. I didn’t. It wasn’t my fault, I was just a kid-”

It had taken you and Steven and Jake so long to get him to believe those words. So long.

“You could’ve saved him if you’d tried hard enough. But you were only worried about yourself.”

“Marc, don't listen to him.”

“He’s lying to you.”

He’s trying. He’s trying not to let it get to him but he’s losing, he’s failing. Again. He always fails.

Harrow’s moving closer. Taking step after step until he stands right in front of Marc, just a few inches away but he still can’t move. Marc wants to reach out and wrap his hands around his neck, he wants to feel it snap under his fingers, he wants it to fucking stop.

“All of those lives you’ve taken-”

“I only killed people who deserved it,” Marc rushes out, trying to defend himself to someone who didn’t care. “I wasn’t a monster. Not like you-”

“But they still weigh you down, don’t they? You remember every single one of them. I know you do.”

It’s true. He isn’t wrong.

“So what?” Marc snaps, his chest heaving as he tries to keep himself from collapsing in on himself. He wishes Steven could take over, he’s not used to feeling like this anymore. Never so intense and in the moment. “You’re going to kill me and make them watch? Make me pay for my sins or whatever?”

Harrow laughs, tilting his head to the side as he regards Marc for a moment or two. “Steven really is the smart one, isn’t he?”

Marc’s eyes flash to Steven and his alter looks horrified. Whatever he’d been thinking, Harrow must’ve just confirmed it. Again, Marc doesn’t need to ask. Harrow beats him to it.

“I’m going to kill them. One of them. And you have to choose.”

Marc’s stomach drops. The fire in his veins turns to ice and fuck it still burns but it’s not anger, it’s horror.

“No. No, you can’t do that. Not them.”

Steven has his eyes closed and you’re so quiet and still. Like you’ve already accepted it. Marc knows you’re just trying to be brave for him, to make it easier for him but it doesn’t, of course it doesn’t make it any easier. It just makes him feel like you’ve been expecting this, like you’ve always known that being with him would only end in tragedy. It makes him feel sick to his fucking stomach.

“Not them. They didn’t do anything wrong.”

Harrow sighs again, taking a few steps back from Marc now, walking back towards you. His fingers trace your jaw and once again Marc wants to feel his fucking bones snap under his fingers.

“It really is such a shame, isn’t it?” Harrow mumbles. “How much destruction and chaos you bring to those around you. How they have to suffer because of the choices you’ve made.”

“Kill me. Just kill me, please just fucking kill me.” Marc doesn’t want to see their faces amongst everyone he’s killed, doesn’t want to live with their ghosts. “Don’t make me do this.”

He’s begging and he doesn’t even care.

“We’ll be fine Marc,” Steven says, nodding his head even though tears fill his eyes.

When Marc looks at you, you’re trying not to cry too.

“Don’t worry about me baby,” you whisper.

“No!” Marc yells, shaking his head rapidly, hands clenched into fists. He hits himself in the side of the head as the pounding becomes more intense, as the anguish he’s feeling in his chest starts to suffocate him. “You can’t make me do this. You can’t, I won’t, please just fucking stop. Kill me kill me kill me, not them. Please not them.”

“Only one of them has to die Marc,” Harrow hums while he twirls a strand of your hair around his finger. “Just one.”

Marc starts hyperventilating. He can’t, he can’t possibly fucking choose who will die and who will live. He can’t. He can’t he can’t he can’t he-

“Just pick me Marc,” Steven mumbles, nodding again. “It’s okay, you’ll be okay without me. I’m not really real anyways, am I?”

“No. I can’t-”

“Baby it’s okay.” Your voice is so gentle, so sweet. Marc doesn’t deserve for you to still be so kind, not with your life on the line. “You need him. You don’t need me.”

“That’s not true. I can’t fucking, fuck I can’t do this without you. I don’t want to.”

“Save her,” Steven says. “Save our girl.”

Marc can’t hear them anymore. He can’t hear anything. His head feels like it’s being split in two, pulled apart and set on fire. His vision blurs and the stark white walls fade away to black nothingness and the feeling that washes over him is utterly familiar, that feeling of being alone. He’s alone now. He has nobody, not even Jake. He’s alone he’s alone he’s alone he’s-

Awake. He’s awake. And he’s gasping for air, each breath that he tries to take not near enough. He’s sweating, his shirt and the sheets and his pillow completely soaked.

And you’re there. Sitting up beside him, your hands in your lap because you don’t like to touch him without permission, even after a nightmare when all you want to do is reach out and hold him you never want to touch him without permission.

You’re there. So does that mean-

“Steven?” Marc gasps, eyes snapping shut while he continues to pant and try to catch his breath.

“I’m right here,” he says. Marc glances towards the mirror in the corner of the room just to make sure, not that they need the mirrors to communicate anymore but it just makes him feel better and he’s there. He’s right there.

“Jake?” he says, voice just a subtle croak.

“Who do you think woke you up?”

He’s there too. The pounding, the migraine, it was Jake. He’d been there the whole time.

Marc sighs, hands coming up to his eyes, palms digging into his sockets as he rocks himself back and forth for a second. Breathing is becoming a little easier, just a little. You’re there and Steven’s there and Jake’s there. You’re all right there and safe and Harrow is dead. He’s dead and you’re all okay.

“Honey what’s going on?” you whisper, voice shaking just a little bit.

Marc reaches out immediately, pulling you into his arms, almost wrapping himself around you. You curl up instantly, one hand moving up to run your fingers through his hair while the other starts pushing his shirt up and over his chest, just trying to get him out of his sweaty clothes.

He lets you. Even though he feels like he doesn’t deserve it, he lets you take care of him. He reluctantly lets you make him a cup of tea, some special blend that Steven swears by and he sips on it while he watches you change the sheets. He lets you get him into the shower and he silently begs you to climb in with him, and you do.

You wash his hair, his body, and then you hold him underneath the boiling water, your fingers tracing up and down his spine. He finally cracks, finally tells you about his dream and he’s crying by the time he’s finished. You just hold him tighter, let the water run cold and then dry him off with the fluffiest towel you own. You don’t say anything until you have him back in bed, wrapped up in clean sheets and the softest blanket. He feels spoiled.

“You know nothing like that is ever going to happen, right baby?” you say softly, searching for his hand, intertwining your fingers once you find it. “Never. Not in a million years my love.”

“But what if-”

You shush him gently, softly, shaking your head. “It won’t. Steven’s safe, I’m safe. We’re right here baby.”

“Someone could find out,” he mumbles, his heart starting to race again. “Someone could find out what I did and go after you.”

“And you’ll protect me. You always do.”

His bottom lip trembles. He hates that it trembles. “But what if I can’t save you?”

He feels like he’s going to break down again. He can feel it bubbling up, the anxiety and the panic and he thinks it would be better if Steven took over, if he could just hibernate and wallow for a few days in his head and not have to deal with any of his emotions head-on.

But you don’t let him. He doesn’t want to leave you, not now.

“Am I in danger right now?” you ask, voice still so soft and so gentle.

“You could be-”

You stop him again, shaking your head. “Am I in danger Marc?”

He hesitates again, a sigh passing his lips, the tips of his fingers tingling. “No.”

“Then we don’t need to worry about this right now, do we?”

You have a point, he guesses. Sort of. Even if his anxiety doesn’t want to admit it. He’s always going to worry about it, always going to worry that something bad will happen and he’ll fail and he’ll lose you and-

“Marc baby get out of your head and just be here with me.”

You make it sound so easy. You do make it easy. Steven and Jake encouraging him make it easy, make him feel even better, more secure.

He doesn’t think he’ll ever be completely comfortable or sure that nothing would happen to you or to Steven or Jake for that matter, not really. But you always do everything you can to remind him that it’s all going to be okay, and you’ll jump the obstacles when they come. You’ll tackle them together. He’s not alone.

Marc doesn’t really fall back to sleep that night, and neither do you. You stay up with him and let him talk about anything and everything, watch the anticipation for the moon to go down itch at his skin, watch the calm that comes when the sun starts to rise and stream in through the windows and cast a golden shadow across white sheets and his tan skin.

The morning is even easier. It always is.

But you’re what allows him to see it day after day. You always are.

#marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #jake lockley x reader #moon knight x reader #moon knight #marc spector #moon knight fanfic #steven grant #jake lockley #mk fanfic

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rustingcat · 8 months

Text

Spice

"Thank you so much for letting us come and see them. I know it's probably a bit odd to want to come and see a pod, or you know not much. But still, we appreciate it." Nia finished with an apologetic smile.

It wasn't really a surprise to them when the young couple wanted to see the embryo. Not that they could really see it, more like to be near it and see the data. Kara could understand it. She spent way more time than necessary in the lab, even if everything was progressing without a hitch. It was a Kryptonian design after all.

"Of course! I understand how much you want to see it." She nodded. "Not personally of course! But like you know, cause it could be your future baby and all." Kara chuckled nervously back at her.

"What Kara is trying to say is, that you don't need to explain yourself, it's perfectly reasonable to want to check in on it, and you're always welcome to in the future. Just let us know in advance in case I'm in the middle of handling a delicate project in here." Lena smiled back. There were, of course, no other projects in this lab.

"I understand why the big brain project is on the bottom, because of its special pod, but why is our embryo in pod number two?" Brainy asked as he got closer to the pods.

It had been slightly more than a week since the big decision was made. A decision they had told to absolutely no one, and had no intention of sharing until they had a real talk. A talk they delayed in part due to panic, if she was really honest. In an attempt to keep their secret they turned off the indicator light in the pod to make it seem inactive, and encrypted the data in the terminal in case Brainy pressed on it while making his inspection on their project.

"Uh… we had some problems with that pod, so…" Kara stuttered.

"We decided to put it in pod number two, just to be safe." Lena finished her sentence, sounding less panicky than Kara was feeling.

"Makes sense." Brainy nodded and turned to Nia as they stepped closer to be near their future baby.

Kara and Lena shared a small glance. Breathing a sigh of relief as the couple went to check on the live updates on the terminal.

"You think they suspect?" Kara whispered.

"They have no reason to," Lena whispered back under her breath.

"I have some questions regarding the nourishments feeder." Brainy turned back to them. They both straightened immediately.

"Of course, what do you want to know?" Lena smiled before Kara had time to react.

"First of all, it seems that the capacity is slightly bigger than what I would expect it to be for this size."

"A procession." Lena assured him. "With the combination of so many genetics we wanted to make sure."

"And the list of ingredients, it seems to be containing some traces of stuff we have not discussed regarding Nultorians and Coluan's biology."

"Spices." Kara spat out, desperate to help.

"What?" Nia asked, she seemed as equally confused as Kara felt.

"What Kara meant," Lena's smile grew thinner as she put a hand on Kara’s shoulder, presumably to stop her from spitting out any more nonsense, "is that we add some extra ingredients with proven health benefits for alien babies."

"Spices." Kara nodded again, unable to stop herself due to panic.

"Yes," Lena fixed her with a look. "Spices." She forced a smile.

"I see. Much appreciated." He nodded.

Brainy and Nia turned back to the pod, exchanging a few hushed words that Kara tuned out to give them their privacy, before turning back to Lena.

"Again, thank you so much for letting us come." Nia said, walking closer to them both.

"Yes, and please do update us on every development." Brainy said. "And, yes, thank you very much." He quickly added after Nia gave him a slight nudge on his side.

"Of course. We're very glad to help." Lena smiled at the couple.

Kara smiled back and hoped that her smile didn't look too manic. It was only when Lena touched her arms that she added, "Yes! Very glad to help." In a slightly higher tone than usual.

Read everything on AO3

#i struggled with this one #supercorp #supergirl #kara danvers #lena luthor #supercorptober #supercorptober2023 #my art #my fic

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stusbunker · 2 months

Text

Spotless: Pizzicato

Chapter Nineteen

Featuring: Dean Winchester/Reader, Dean/Bela, Dean/Cas (unrequited)

Other characters: Miriam Talbot (OFC Bela's mother)

Word Count: 2567

Warnings, etc: Mutual pining, putting out other people's fires, and old baggage, unbeta'd

A/N: Castiel and Trouble's friendship is something I didn't realize she had been missing until he was in front of her. There are a couple of big truth bombs in this chapter and I hope I handled them respectfully. This is an AU and it is not indicative of this author's feelings on canon or any other fandom shipping practices.

Series Masterlist

Posting on Dean’s instagram account was par for the course as the band’s publicist. You bothered to know what a hashtag was, for one. For another it also allowed you to check traffic on posts and actively moderate things to help the comment section look best for Dean’s image. Afterall, Dean trusted you, you weren’t going to leak anything or make him look like an idiot.

You were a goddamn professional and this wasn’t the hardest thing you’d done in the last year, but Jesus fuck were you pissed.

Dean hated tattoos. Really, he hated needles. He was black out drunk when he and Sam got their matching flaming pentagrams. He actually had a panic attack the next morning after realizing he let someone “sew ink” into his skin. By sheer force of will and through the bond of shared grief, you got him to go with you for Jo’s memorial tattoo on the tenth anniversary of her death. It was in your all-time top five ultimate Dean-Y/N memories.

And now it meant jack shit.

You edited and cropped the photos, sent two back to Bela to post on her account and then posted the lion’s share onto Dean’s, making him look like the diligent boyfriend while Bela was busy in the chair. You thanked Billie for taking care of “his girl” and made sure the shop was the location and tagged. You wanted to punch something, it looked so good. Then you sat back and let the interwebs do its job.

Okay, in actuality, you emailed about twenty different people, had a conference call with the tour management marketing team, scheduled radio station drop ins and followed up with Meg on the expected release of Dean’s photoshoot and interview. These days it may just end up online, but you hoped she was able to score him real physical print space.

It was just as you were winding down for the night, when your phone rang. It was past any reasonable business hours and you were already done with your skin care routine, but then you saw the caller id.

“Miriam! Hi!” You tried to sound pleasantly surprised.

“Don’t Miriam me, young lady. What is going on out there? Is it drugs? I thought we missed this stage when she quit acting for college. You’d tell me if this hoodlum was pressuring her into risky behavior wouldn’t you?”

Which was a lot to unpack right off the bat like that, luckily you had experience dealing with Bela’s mother.

“It’s just a tattoo. She’s not on drugs, I promise.”

“And what about this Dean? I knew they were seeing each other, but this seemed a bit more intimate— not exactly in the public eye.”

Oh, she was good.

“He’s not on drugs either. And—- he actually isn’t thrilled with tattoos. This might be all Bela, if I’m being honest.”

“Have you seen the things they’re saying? The things they’re calling her, Y/N?”

You rolled your eyes and heaved yourself out of bed, you needed your laptop if you were going to continue this conversation rationally.

“Let me look into it— what site were you on?”

“Oh, I’m not sure. Olivette, one of the boardmember’s wives, told me she read about it online during dinner.”

You inhaled deeply and started your usual rotation of sites, you’d have to add some new tags to follow Bela’s buzz more closely going forward.

“And you’re sure this wasn’t just bad blood from Olivia? I’m not finding much besides general surprise.”

“It’s Olivette. And yes, I’m certain. She wouldn’t make me worry without a reason.”

And then you realized what you were missing, it wasn’t just People or TMZ you had to worry about. You went to Hello!’s twitter and you found what had Miriam Talbot’s friend in a huff.

You started scanning the comments, gathering the most common complaints and judging their amount of influence via cursory glances. You did not know a lot of the news personalities or celebrity bloggers in the UK. You were going to have to meet with Bela and figure out a better approach going forward.

“Okay, Miriam, it’s almost eleven here. I know you probably called me as soon as you woke up, but consider me on the case. Alright? Bela’s fine and this is just a minor hiccup.”

“If you’re sure, Y/N, dear.”

You sighed. “Of course. I would warn you if there was anything to worry about. But please just let this run its course. You know how the tabloids are.”

“Unfortunately I do, that’s why I called. Please keep me updated if anything else comes up?”

“Will do. You have a good ni-day!”

“Goodnight dear— and thank you.”

You smiled at your lap. “Anytime.”

You let her hang up. Then you promptly pulled up your contacts list and warned Bela that her mother was sniffing about online and to call her at a decent hour. And finally, you spent the next four hours (or so) online until you had swam to the bottom of the cesspool and decided it wasn’t worth your time. At least not right then, not so exhausted.

Three days passed since the snobby UK gossip rags’ judgment rained down and, as expected, it had already just about fizzled out. You sat in a cafe with a quad shot flat white, waiting for your lunch date to arrive. Not truly a date, though it wasn’t a meeting either.

It was a diplomatic mission.

Then you spotted him and your stomach swooped, feeling the loss of his presence in your life all over again.

“Hey, Cas.” You stood and held your arms open for a hug, which he accepted with a timid smile.

“It’s good to see you, Trouble,” his gravelly voice murmured in your ear. He still smelled the same.

You pulled back and looked him in the eye, searching for anything but the sincere blue reality in front of you. He held no grudges, not with you, without even discussing it you knew he was still your friend.

You then punched him squarely in the shoulder. “That’s for ghosting us all for the last nine months, assbutt!”

He grunted, and rolled his eyes. “I can accept that.”

“Good. Because I missed you. We all miss you.”

He tilted his head and raised his eyebrows in challenge.

“So— heard you have a kid, huh. That’s —- weird.”

Castiel exhaled and shook his head. “Who told you?”

“What? Nobody. I have eyes. And spend enough time online to draw some conclusions.”

“Kelly told you.”

“She didn’t have to. She’s amazing by the way— are you a thing now, now that you know he exists?”

Castiel looked affronted. “Me and Kelly? Oh, no. That was a teenage mistake. We were young. And we’ve both matured into vastly different people. But I respect her and I think— I hope I’ve earned her trust.”

“Tell me about him—- he’s what? Twenty-twenty one?”

“He’s twenty three and very talented. Kind, impossibly optimistic even.”

“Yikes, tough combo out here.”

“Tell me about it.”

You shared a look and he smiled at you like he knew what you were thinking about. Like you were reliving the same joke.

You blinked away the sting in your eyes.

“Go get your dark roast and get back over here, we’ve got things to discuss.”

His eyes softened, but Cas didn’t argue with you.

You sipped your drink and tried not to let all of the questions that had been building for months run away from you. He was back both too quickly and too slowly. You cleared your throat, the awkwardness you had been fighting back rushed to the surface.

“So— I presume there is more to you calling to get lunch. Not just asking about Jack and goading me about my latest tattoo?” Cas wasn’t one for small talk.

You nodded and swallowed around another perfect mouthful of milk and espresso.

Castiel’s face went through a journey when you didn’t quickly reply. “He doesn’t want to see me—- he made that quite clear.”

“And what about since everything?”

“What do you mean?”

“I know Dean’s called you. He might not have been big enough to actually apologize in a voicemail, but I know he wants to fix things— he misses you as his friend, too.”

“Then he should be able to suck up his pride and make the effort,” Cas snipped, the first sign of the lingering anger from his and Dean’s fight.

“I haven’t exactly seen much of your effort. Do you not want to fix things?--- And I’m not talking about coming back to the band— that ship has sailed. I’m talking about twenty years of friendships you just walked out on.”

Cas stared at his coffee, his eyebrow ring arched with his bitchy expression. He hated being corrected, you knew that. But this had gone on long enough.

“I’ve spoken with everyone but Dean,” Cas explained. “It’s not perfect, but it’s progress.”

“You never spoke to me,” you spat.

Cas’ eyes softened again. “I always knew where your loyalties lie, you took your time, too.”

“Wait— even SAM?!”

“Sam and I haven’t lost contact this whole time.”

You sucked in air. “Oh, he is so dead.”

“Y/N. It wasn’t like we were plotting or anything. He was worried about me, I was worried about Dean.”

“Yeah, but if Dean knew—”

“Ask Sam, but I don’t think he could hide anything from Dean if he wanted to.”

You knew he was right. Ever since Sam got sober, transparency had been something Sam put into his closest relationships anyway. Beside Dean being ruthless and stubborn, well, you supposed Cas was right.

“Why do I feel like this band just doesn’t want me to be able to do my job?”

“Your position as group therapist is fairly tenuous. Especially with Pamela involved.”

“I meant my real job. If I had known you were on decent terms with, well, everyone but Dean, it would have made things a lot easier, young man.” You couldn’t help but smile now. Sure you were hurt, but the eggshells you had been stepping over for so long really only took up a single corner of the floor.

It was freeing.

“I never meant to cause you any distress.”

“That doesn’t make it go away, Cas.”

He bowed his head, but popped back up to meet your gaze. “I know. I apologize. I didn’t want you to think that I was done— with any of you.”

You pinched your eyes closed quickly and then reached over the table to squeeze his forearm. “Okay. So— you’ll come to Dean’s birthday party, then?”

Cas patted your hand with his left and sat back, breaking the contact and sat with the invitation for a heavy moment.

“What makes you think he’d want me there?”

You glared at him, all tattooed and handsome and absolutely clueless about how much his absence has affected Dean. Sure, Dean got to keep the band, but it wasn’t the same without Cas. Cas has had to start over entirely, become a dad and rebuild his career all without any of the support Dean has had around him through his own troubles.

“Look— I know you’re Mister Independent and I don’t want to set back any of the progress you’ve made without him needing you around. But he still looks for you whenever we all go out. And hanging out with Kevin, made it abundantly clear to him that you were available— you just weren’t interested.”

“Why do you always make it sound like we were an item?”

You rolled your eyes. “Look, we all know Dean has attachment issues. I’m not saying anything was kinky between you guys— that’s not my business. But, as friends, you guys deserve to at least get some answers— closure or forgiveness can come later, if you get there.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Really? You’re not just saying that to get me off your case?”

“Yes, really.”

You smirked and Cas’ smiled with his eyes, fidgeting his lip ring with his tongue.

Cas cleared his throat and took a sip of his coffee before changing gears. “So, your friend Bela and, uh, Dean?”

You groaned and hid your eyes in your hand. When you looked up he was laughing at you.

“What?!”

“Stop— we both know what it’s all about.”

“Kevin seems to think Dean’s whipped.” Mischief continued to dance in Cas’ eyes.

“Well, it’s about time.”

“I told him, the only one who has had Dean whipped in over a decade is you.”

You choked on your spit, sputtering at Cas’ bluntness.

“They don’t know it’s for show do they?”

You inhaled deeply. “Sam knows. Dean and Bela have their own private agreement about it all. But, uh, yeah, you pretty much guessed right.”

Cas watched you thoughtfully, futzing with his lip ring with his top teeth now.

“How are you holding up?”

“Me? I’m fine, why?”

Cas nudged your ankle under the table with his combat boot.

“As someone who was definitely in love with him for most of my life— I know the symptoms.”

You sighed and shivered at being seen and having your long held suspicions confirmed. You rubbed your upper arm, trying to fight the goosebumps. “I’m fine. Nothing has changed. He’s just been working on himself and that is— distracting.”

Cas hummed, head cocking to the side as if looking at you with a different angle would give him more insight.

“I mean it. He’s in therapy and everything. Sam and him are working out. He’s been insanely focused on the latest album—”

“He’s doing penance.”

“Maybe. But he wants to be better. It’s not just guilt. I don’t know how to explain it. But, you’ll see what I mean.”

Cas eyebrow popped up again.

“You will,” you insisted.

“You always were able to read me weren’t you?”

You chuckled at the back of your mouth, short and knowing. “Guess it comes with being stuck with each other for so long.”

“Shared trauma response,” Cas teased.

“Or that.”

You finished the last of your drink and looked around the cafe.

“So, where we going to eat? I think we’ve had enough heavy— sushi?”

“You buying?”

“Phantom Traveler is covering this as a business lunch.”

Cas stood and pushed in his chair. “Okay, well then, bring on the seafood.”

You stood and let Cas walk you outside, his hand on the small of your back until he could offer you his elbow on the sidewalk. You smiled up at him and pulled him tight to your side.

“I’m glad you’re back, Cas.”

“Well, we’ll see if everyone agrees with you, won’t we?”

The afternoon passed quickly, catching up and sharing memories that were now tinted with the grief of the last lost year. Things made more sense the longer you thought about how the band had been acting, especially way back at the Animal Shelter where Cas’ niece had been more than willing to put in her two cents. You texted Sam while you waited for your meals, warning him where you were and what you knew.

‘Have fun.’

His only response. Asshole.

But everything kept from you, kept from Dean, wouldn’t last forever. It couldn’t. Now you at least could control the narrative a bit more by being in on it all. Or most of it at least.

Tagging:

@deans-spinster-witch

@mrswhozeewhatsis

@cosicas-cuquis

@fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like

@suckitands33

@ladysparkles78

@deans-baby-momma

@stoneyggirl2

@sassy-pelican

@leigh70

@globetrotter28

@winharry

@lastactiontricia

@rockhoochie

Chapter Twenty: Arpeggio

#spotless series #rockstar au #slow burn #dean winchester fanfiction #dean angst #dean/reader #dean/bela #friends to lovers #it's no longer a love triangle or maybe it was bela who made it a square

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rendy-a · 1 year

Note

For your househusband au, how would Leona and Floyd (separate) greet their SO after they come home from a long business trip? I'm sure they missed their SO very much~

Absolutely, please enjoy!

Leona has many behaviors that are reminiscent of a common housecat. When you first arrive back home, he will eagerly come to greet you and welcome you home. However, he soon seems to realize how visible his feelings are and pulls back behind his aloof act. So, expect one grand sweep-you-off-your-feet kiss followed by some joke to deflect. “Did I miss you? Nah, it was so quiet that I got the best nap I’ve had in ages. I hardly noticed you were gone.”

Actions speak louder than words. Even though Leona may say things like he didn’t notice your absence, you can tell by his actions that he did. For the next few days, he will find any excuse to pass by and touch you; a graze of a finger along your back, a pat on the head, a carcass along the cheek. The tactile contact reminds him that you are present here with him now. If you lean into his touch, all the better. He has pride in seeing how you’ve missed him too.

As recompense for your absence, he’ll demand you pamper him upon your return. He knows his worth and this is the least you can do to show your appreciation. Only, the restaurant he picks for you to take him…isn’t this actually your favorite restaurant? He may be a bit tsundere, but he’ll make sure you know how happy he is that you are home.

Leona comes up behind you and helps you shrug off your bulky outer jacket, leaving you in the fancy semi-formal garments you’ve chosen for your reunion dinner. You’ve made a statement with your outfit, one that says notice me. You want to make sure you have all your handsome spouse’s attention tonight. And you do. He prowls around you, gliding a hand along your back as he sets your coat aside. He puts a hand on your arm as he pulls out your chair for you. He gently rubs your shoulder before walking over to his own seat. Mission successful.

Maybe a little too successful. When the waiter comes to take your order, his eyes linger a little too long on your form. You can feel Leona fuming from across the table. Before things get even more heated, you decide to let your over-reaching waiter know how things stand. The next time he comes to the table, you reach over and give your spouse a caress on his wrist. The arrogant smirk Leona shoots the deflated waiter almost has you chuckling. You decide not to comment and let him bask in his victory.

After diner, you decided to walk through the town square, taking in the night ambiance before heading home. If the weather was a touch chill, that is all the more reason to snuggle closer to your spouse. Leona is more than welcoming of this, pulling you tight into his side. As you walked, it starts to snow gently. You let out a small shiver as the flakes coat your hair lightly. Leona looks at you and indicates its time to go home. “No!” you say, “I’m not ready for the night to end.” You smile up at him entreatingly and he finally sighs, submitting to your pleading.

“All right, fine. We will walk around a little more, but I expect a treat for being such a fine escort.” Leona tells you with a sharp smile. “Oh,” you ask, “what did you have in mind?” Leona swings you around to rest in his arms. “After this, you are joining me for my favorite dessert.” You give him a teasing look. “I thought we just had your favorite foods at that restaurant earlier.” Leona gives you a harrumph, not pleased at being called out on his restaurant choice. “Well, this time I’m really getting what I want. My favorite flavor and all.” You look him in the eye and ask, “What flavor is that?” He leans forward and whispers in your ear, “Herbivore.” You shiver again, only this time it has nothing to do with the cold.

He gets so excited when you walk in the door. So. Excited. You’ve seen him full of energy before, but this is on another level. He is on you in a moment, pulling you into a back-breaking hug that ends with swinging you around. You smile as your feet touch the floor and you start to ask Floyd if he’d like to have the gift you brought him when…he picks you up for another swing. This might be a while.

For your first day back, Floyd has made plans. A lot of plans. There is even a list he made of all the things he wants to do with you now that you are home. You catch sight of the list and see he has titled it “best day ever.” He spent a lot of time thinking about you while you were gone. Every time he missed you, he thought of a new activity to do with you when you got back. Since you were the cause of all this, you’ll have to take responsibility and join him on all his activities.

So many squeezes. Floyd just can’t get enough of having his precious spouse back in his arms. You can’t predict when a squeeze will happen; during any activity Floyd might suddenly walk to your side and give you a squeeze. Sometimes they are quick and comforting; like saying, ‘yeah, my spouse is here with me.’ Other times they are long and intense, as though he wants to memorize the feel of your body next to his. He knows you can’t stay nearby forever but, for now, he is going to keep you there with his own two arms.

You had thought that the day would never end. Not that it wasn’t enjoyable, but after a full day of high energy and activity, you are worn down. You were secretly relieved when, in the middle of a carnival style ring-toss game, Floyd suddenly set down his rings and declared he just wasn’t feeling it anymore. Then he started casually walking toward the exit of the carnival and home. You quickly throw the rest of the rings, collected your prize, and ran to catch up with your spouse.

It’s a testament to how much you mean to him that Floyd still holds you close to him as you walk home. Even in one of his moods, you’ll always have a place by his side. You also think it’s a sign of your experience that you know to stay quiet, allowing your spouse his space to be in a mood. When you get home, you gently rub his back and tell him “Go lay down, I’ll take care of cleaning up before bed.” He looks at you softly from his deep-lidded eyes before humming in agreement and heading toward your room.

You clean up the things you’ve brought back from your time on the town. Setting the various purchases in places around the house and hanging the photo strip you took on the fridge with an octopus magnet (Floyd likes to keep little mementos around that remind him of his friends and family). Lastly, you pick up the plush you won from the fair and take it with you to bed.

When you open the door, you are surprised to see Floyd still awake. “You waited for me?” you ask him. “Hmm,” he hums gently at you, “I can’t go to sleep without my precious Shrimpy. And speaking of shrimp, what’s that?” You hold out the shrimp plush, showing it off to your spouse. “I won it at the carnival. What do you think? Maybe lil’ shrimpy can keep you company next time I’m away?” He reaches out and you hand him the shrimp plush. He gives it a squeeze and tilts his head quizzically. “I don’t know, its hard to tell without a comparison.” Then he lifts his arm and motions for you to lie down by him.

You caution him, “I’ve still got to brush my teeth, so only for a little,” before obliging him and laying down. He pulls you tight and lets out a satisfied hum. “Just as I thought, my Shrimpy is the best shrimpy.” You laugh back at him, picking up the plush to squish its little cheeks. “But look how cute. Can’t lil’ Shrimpy stay?” Floyd gives the plush a suspicious look. “Ok, but they better not get any ideas.” You laugh and toss the toy to land on the dresser against the wall. You think to yourself, ‘Sorry lil’ Shrimpy. Better luck next time.’

After a little while, you sigh and give Floyd’s arm a tap; it’s time to get up and finish your night routine while you still have the motivation to do it. When he doesn’t respond, you twist around to look at him and see he has fallen asleep. You give him a shake, “Floyd?” He responds by making a small growling noise in his sleep. Ok, I guess that is it for you tonight. You curl deeper into his side and close your eyes. It really was a long day.

The next thing you know, you are waking up alone in bed. The dappled sunlight drifting through the curtain of the window lets you know its morning. You let out a yawn and sit up. Floyd slides into the room, bearing a tray with breakfast on it. From the smile on his face, you can tell he has shaken his mood from last night and it back to his energetic self. “Mmm, thanks for this. It smells great.” He smiles at you and lays back in bed, resting his head on your shoulder while you eat.

As you lift a forkful of food to your lips, you notice the shrimp plush is no longer on the dresser. “What happened to lil’ Shrimpy?” you ask. Floyd very seriously responds, “We’ve had a talk and I’ve decided lil’ Shrimpy can stay and be my assistant. They’re not as good as you but I guess they are ok sometimes.” You smile indulgently at him. “Well, I’m just glad you had someone to keep you company this morning. I thought I was going to be trapped in bed being squeezed all day.” Floyd takes your half-eaten plate and sets it on the nightstand beside the bed. Then he leans over, pinning you beneath him. “Ssshhh! Don’t ruin the surprise by guessing my plans, Shrimpy.” It was going to be another long day, but you find you don’t mind much at all.

#househusband au #floyd leech #floyd x reader #floyd leech x reader #leona kingscholar #leona x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #twst #twst wonderland #twisted wonderland

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petermorwood · 5 months

Text

youtube

This popped up on my YouTube the other day and not to brag, but...

Oh, why the hell not? It's a small brag, but satisfying. :->

I posted about refilling the Pilot Vpen (IRL-UK) / Varsity (US) - and adding how-to links - about 4 years and then again a year ago.

Here are the how-to links; I'm glad to see they're still active.

This one, like the video, calls for pliers and suggests removing the nib:

This one doesn't use pliers or separate the nib from the feed.

*****

Bragging aside, I'm pleased to see Brian Goulet of Goulet Pens giving this hack a higher profile (and Kudos for it, too - as a retailer it's more in his interest to sell them than refill them!)

His reason is very sound: those cheap little pens (usually about 3-to-4 local currency units whether €, $ or £) are ideal for FP-curious newbies or as no-loss-worries when travelling or no-damage-worries loaners.

They also have much better nibs than the price would suggest. Indeed that seems common to all the inexpensive Pilot pens I've tried, which includes every nib size of MR / Metropolitan.

In addition, IMO the notion of "disposable" fountain pens goes completely against the principal FP virtue, where once you've bought the pen, all you USE is the ink.

So in the US at least * buy that ink from Goulet. They've got one or two to choose from and a selection of samples in vials or sets...

( * In Ireland, with Pen Corner in Dublin now gone, I get mine from CultPens or Penstore.)

*****

I should mention, for completeness, that some "starter" fountain pens have prices not much more than these disposables and, refilled by "proper" ink cartridges / bottle-refill converters, don't involve anything like this trouble.

Just saying...

*****

It just so happens that one of my two Vpens was about due for a refill, so here are some pics of the process.

I scrubbed the markings off the barrels a long time ago so I could see what was inside, since refills mean the ink in the pen often has nothing to do with its colour-indicator cap.

First, disassembled and washed in changes of warm water until the water stays clear.

Here's the nib and feed: they've always come out of both Vpens as a single unit, with no need for pliers. Since the nibs show no desire to come off I've no desire to force the issue and maybe break something; those little ink-guide fins are delicate.

The filler is a small syringe begged from our local vet. I also use it to refill cartridges with custom ink colours (yup, I sometimes roll my own...)

Its "needle" is plastic tubing (an empty Pilot gel-pen cartridge, appropriately enough) which fits the syringe perfectly, and a pointy end made by stretching the tube over a candle-flame then snipping to length. If it gets too stained - this is nearly there - just chuck it in the recycle bin and make a new one.

The ink could have been any of the 30-odd I have at the minute, or something mixed specially, but I chose this one - a nice dark green - for the same reason @dduane had me buy it.

It's a very cute bottle... :->

*****

And here's the "disposable" pen refilled, reassembled and re-writing.

It really does have a better nib than you'd expect from a supposedly single-use pen...

*****

It sometimes takes a while for the ink to work its way by capillary action down from barrel to nib, especially if everything has been left to dry after washing. Put the cap on the pen and be patient.

Or speed things up by taking the cap off and running a thin stream of hot water over the barrel for 30 seconds or so. This increases internal pressure, forcing the ink along the section fins.

NB, this step is only for a refilled Vpen / Varsity. Don't try it with anything else, and in case it's not obvious, do this at a washbasin or sink, because You Never Know.

Now use a bit of kitchen paper or loo roll to blot the water which has got on the nib. This has a mild "suction" effect, and when you see ink on the paper (you might need to wet the nib again) your refilled pen is ready for use.

This wet-and-blot nib step can be used to encourage any stubborn fountain pen to get back in action, but the hot water trick, once again, is Vpen only.

Anyway, done.

#Youtube #fountain pens #disposable fountain pen #refilling disposable fountain pens #Pilot Vpen #Pilot Varsity

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milky-mink · 2 years

Text

Becoming Izana's unwilling girlfriend

TW: Yandere, Blackmail, Intimidation, Power Imbalance

You first met Izana when you visit your older brother in Juvie. The reason is that he got caught entering someone’s house with an intent of robbing it

You can’t blame him really, your family has been struggling with money ever since an accident; where your father died due to a car hitting him on the road, making your mother a single parent; trying to juggle both her family and her new job at a marketing firm

Even though her job pays well, it wasn’t enough for the three of you to live by; and often you and your brother go on throughout the day without eating anything or not taking the train to school

Your older brother, wanting to help your mother, got a part-time job at a local Dagashiya in your neighborhood. Although it helped, it's still not enough for the rest of you to live like you used to.

Slowly but surely, you saw your older brother being discontent in life - him being much more moody and often get into fights in school. You know that one day, he would join a wrong crowd and eventually join a gang

You tried to warn your mother about his behavior, but she just shrugged it off, saying that he was just blowing some steam and would come back to his senses later on

As you’ve expected, he did not, and eventually joined a gang. You then ask one of your classmates, who has some knowledge about the gangs in Yokohama, about a gang that wore a red uniform and a strange symbol that you saw your brother wearing when he sneaked out of your home at midnight.

Your classmate’s eyes widened as he recognized the symbol that you drew and explained what gang has that symbol, your hands trembled as he further explained the information he knew about that gang

Your hands trembled in fear as he delved into the more heinous acts that the gang your brother has joined in, robbery, assault, drug trafficking. The list goes on. You couldn’t take it anymore and quickly told him to stop, not wanting to hear those terrible things anymore.

Terrible thoughts filled your mind as you wait for the school to end, wanting to head home as fast as possible, skipping your club meeting just so that you could confront him, and persuade him to quitting that gang

After you came home, you then wait for him to come back home in the living room, not bothering to change your clothes or even cook dinner, determined to catch him.

As the hours passed and the clock indicating that its midnight, he was still nowhere to be seen

Just as when you were about to give up and go upstairs, you suddenly heard the telephone ringing

You quickly pick up the phone and talk to the person who’s calling your house. To your surprise, it was a government worker that phoned you. Your eyes winded in shock as he explained to you the purpose of why he’s calling your house right now

Apparently, your brother got sent into juvie due to robbery and would be held in there for the next three years

Your mother, to her distraught, distracts herself by focusing more on her work, refusing to believe that her sweet son has turned into a delinquent gangster. She even refused to visit him in juvie due to how deep in denial she is of the situation

So here you are right now, visiting your brother in juvie, talking to him and gifting him the home made bento you make

To your surprise, your brother, who has been cold ever since your father died - broke down in front of you

You console him even without touching him due to the clear glass blocking the two of you from physically interacting with each other

The two of you started to communicate, and eventually reconcile with each other

Ever since then, your relationship with your brother has improved, to the point that it's just like before the accident

As you frequently visit your brother in juvie, you also noticed another change in his behavior. He started to become scared as you handed him your usual bento and even refused to open it for some reason

That makes you suspicious since our brother has always looked forward to your bento, and even giving empty bento boxes after he’s done eating its contents

One day when you are on your usual visit in juvie, your brother suddenly looked at you in the eye, requesting you to not to make a bento that addressed to him and instead naming it to Kurokawa Izana

Your eyes winded, recognizing that name. It's the name of the leader of the gang your brother is in

Knowing the danger your brother is in, you silently nodded in his request and making a mental note of it

And on your next visit, instead of meeting your brother, you’ve arrived and faced someone who’s very unfamiliar to you, but knew his name. To your surprise, he isn’t some gigantic bulky person who you’ve expected a gang leader to be - but instead; you faced a lean and muscular person

He also has a remarkable appearance, light brown skin with silky white hair and striking purple eyes. You are fairly sure that if he isn’t in a gang, he could be scouted as a model or even a male idol

You strike a conversation with him, even though you are intimidated due to the fact that he is a dangerous person

But to your surprise, your first visit to him ends in a normal tone, as if you are just visiting an acquaintance

Weeks passed by as now not only that you visit your brother in juvie but also Izana as well

It was mildly bewildering when the two of you started to be close with each other; you being a normal middle school student, and him being the leader of the biggest gang in Yokohama

You now consider him as a friend, although you are still wary of him due to his occupation

As you started to get to know him further, you noticed that he started to act differently to you; him being much more flirtatious and bold every time you visit him. But you just brushed it off, thinking that he is opening up to you

But you should’ve noticed it as a red flag as he started to get much more confrontational and possessive to you, being irrationally angry if you speak to someone other than him, even your brother or mother

It caused you to be scared but at the same time being angry at him, why is he acting like that? His attitude makes little sense

The two of you argued so often that eventually you stopped visiting him in juvie

Big Mistake

When you visit your brother again in juvie, you quickly notice painful bruises everywhere covering his body. From his face, his arm or torso, it made you sick on just how he wince in pain every time he accidentally press his arm or stomach

After your visit to your brother, you then hastily visit Izana, pleading to him to not hurt your brother any longer. You’ll do anything that he asks, as long as he leave your brother alone

When you utter those words, he gave you a bone chilling smile, as if you’ve fallen into a trap

“Hmmm, anything you say? Well, (Y/N), be my girlfriend then”

You froze in place at that moment, when he said those words, shocked at his request, but you quickly accepted his offer

Ever since then, you’ve officially become Izana’s girlfriend

Predictably, your brother isn’t beat up anymore and even treated better than before, but you are now subjugated by Izana’s possessive behavior

Him prodding you every single detail about your whole week as you attend your daily visits to him and your brother, forcing you to do actions that a girlfriend would do such as over intricate Bento’s, exchange of romantic words and you kissing the glass that separates you to him, as if giving him kisses on either his lips or cheeks

The only escape to him is that he is in juvie, which is a relief for you since you have days that you aren’t forced to act into something you don’t like

But those days are blissfully fast since Izana has been let out in juvie, which you only find out when you find him waiting for you outside of your school in his motorbike

Since then, everything is now different for you but not for the better. When the whole school finds out that you became Izana’s girlfriend, you have been avoided by your classmates and even teachers like a plague. You, getting distant from your friends, which eventually became scared of you, just like the others, making you rely on Izana much more, to the point that he is the only one, except your brother and your mother that you’ve talked to for a while

The delinquents in your school have also started to praise the floor that you walked to. Obviously, you have to be extraordinary to become Izana’s girlfriend since many women tried to become one, but they are either ignored or quickly turned down by him. So when you walked down to your school, they immediately walk to with you like bodyguards and clear the path so that you could walk to your destination without someone blocking your path

Izana, as possessive and obsessive as he is, didn’t raise his hand to you like you would expect him to do. Instead-he treated you like a gentleman. Going into frequent dates, giving you gifts that you know are from high-end stores and even out right giving you money

You accepted it all, afraid of the consequences if you didn’t. Although it helped your family greatly, it still made you uncomfortable on just how you procure it. You knew where his money came from and felt guilty of accepting it and the gifts that he’s been giving to you

Izana swings his arm into your shoulder as the two of you are watching the boxing match in front of you. The two of you are seated in a padded chair while the rest are sitting on the available surface or just standing to watch. He lightly giggled as one of the men falls through the hard pavement while you just winced on just how painful it looks. Although you have been joining Izana on seeing illegal street fighting for months now, you still aren’t used to seeing blood and broken bones being displayed in front of you. You’ve suspected that Izana made you watch these fights with him because you’ve always been clinging to his chest every time you are scared or shocked, which you always did.

As the fight then continues on, Izana gently grab you, making you lean on his chest as the two of you kept watching the fight

“Hey (Y/N)”

You looked up at Izana, wondering what he wants right now

“After this, can you make Katsudon for dinner? I’m craving for one”

You nod at his request and reluctantly go back to watching the fight in front of you. It's a common occurrence. Ever since you became a couple, you always cook for him because he refuses the food if you did not cook it. To the point that you aren’t living in your house anymore and instead live in his apartment with another person named Kakucho. Even though he is his underling, he is the one that you could only interact without you being nervous. Unlike his peers, he is actually very polite and respectful and can keep his distance as he needs to be. So you are alright with him, the rest, not so much. They are what you expected a gang member to act, apathetic, cruel and sadistic. So you only interact with them on a surface level, being polite as you need to be.

While the fight continues on, Izana grips tightly to your shoulder and further pressed you closer to his chest, keeping you closer him. You sigh at his behavior but just focus on the next match, trying to distract yourself, not only to your current situation, but your life in general. You, being a girlfriend to a gang leader that would certainly be a mob boss in the future, and him isolating you to anyone other than himself and the people he approves of and a looming threat dangling in your back if you did something out of line. Although this could be much worse- you are now basically trapped with Izana, without you saying anything to the matter, becoming his pliant girlfriend, just as he wants you to be.

#yandere tokyo revengers #yandere tokrev #yandere kurokawa Izana #yandere Izana #tokyo revengers headcanons #yandere #tw yandere #yandere headcanons #izana imagines #izana headcanons #izana hcs

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astoundingbeyondbelief · 3 months

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Kaiju Week in Review (March 3-9, 2024)

Shin Ultraman took an eternity to reach home video, but Godzilla Minus One will proceed as a more reasonable pace (by Japanese standards). Toho will release roughly one billion different editions on May 1, with Amazon- and Godzilla Store-exclusive physical bonuses both on offer. Godzilla Minus One/Minus Color is included with some of the pricier versions, or you can buy it as a standalone Blu-ray or DVD.

The black-and-white version of Shin Godzilla, SHIN GODZILLA:ORTHOchromatic, also hits Japanese home video on May 1. Like Minus Color, no 4K edition, just Blu-ray and DVD. A handful of new bonus features about ORTHOchromatic are included.

As is standard for Toho, none of these releases will be English-friendly. But given the films' popularity (and the lack of any legal way to watch Minus One since it left theaters), expect bootlegs to circulate at light speed.

Unsurprisingly, Godzilla Minus One cleaned up at the Japanese Academy Awards, with eight victories out of eleven nominations: Picture of the Year, Best Supporting Actress, Best Cinematography, Best Screenplay, Best Editing, Best Sound, Best Art Direction, and Best Lighting. That's one more than Shin Godzilla, and pretty much guarantees that the Toho Godzilla series will keep the prestige pictures coming. Strange times!

We'll see if Minus One can also capture Best Visual Effects at the American Academy Awards tonight. The Creator remains its biggest competition. The Gareth Edwards film is better-positioned by the usual metrics, with a second nomination for Best Sound and five wins at the Visual Effects Society Awards, but the enthusiasm gap for the films themselves may prove decisive. I'll be doing a much lengthier analysis during Wikizilla's Oscar stream tonight, which will start at about 6:00 PM ET, an hour before the ceremony begins.

Godzilla x Kong: The New Empire tickets may not be on sale yet, but Cinemark theaters have rolled out the above merch (much more efficiently than Target and Walmart have rolled out the toyline, if my local theater's any indication). I have a suspicion those plushies will be worth a mint a few years from now, small as they are; don't know about the other stuff. I bought the larger popcorn tin when I saw Dune: Part Two on Thursday. The promo image is deceptive, as the green area is transparent plastic and the Titan image is on the opposite wall of the tin, so that popcorn's either defying gravity or being held up by a hidden insert. There are Kong and Skar King variants as well, the latter revealing his height (318 feet). Poor Shimo; being the "secret" villain really narrows the amount of merch you get.

The other interesting GxK news this week (apart from the endless TV spot variants, which I'm not even trying to keep track of) is a collaboration with the American Red Cross, of all institutions. Donate blood, platelets, or AB Elite plasma from March 25 to April 7, get a free T-shirt. And for completion's sake, I'll mention the Roblox and Call of Duty cross-promos too.

Chibi Godzilla Raids Again, an unexpected delight last year, is getting a second season starting April 3. The official site revealed that Minilla is joining the cast, while those silhouettes to his right look like Titanosaurus (unjustly neglected in recent years), Gigan, and Gabara. Expect to follow the first season in being uploaded to the GODZILLA OFFICIAL by TOHO YouTube channel with English subtitles.

youtube

Here's another chance to watch Tsuburaya and Toei Animation's Kaiju Decode short, originally released in 2021. (It goes away at the end of the month, because every Japanese studio is apparently hellbent on making short films ephemeral, so download it now.) It's the basis for a recent mixed reality game for the Meta Quest 3 and Meta Quest Pro, hence its return to the spotlight.

UniVersus, a collectable card game predicated on pitting characters from various franchises against each other, is going all in on Godzilla after offering a couple of Minus One cards through highly convoluted means last year. They're releasing a couple of Godzilla Challenger Series (preconstructed decks) on June 21, one based around Godzilla and Mothra, the other around King Ghidorah and Rodan, with Mechagodzilla thrown into the mix for both. I've never played this game in my life, but the prospect of a shiny Godzilla card with James Stokoe art is sort of tempting.

#kaiju week in review #godzilla minus one #shin godzilla #home video #oscars #chibi godzilla raids again #godzilla x kong the new empire #king kong #kaiju

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anohai · 1 year

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A big issue with Seyka’s character arc in Burning Shores...

*clicks tongue* Fuck it.

I debated over writing this out and posting it. Decided I might as well for not only my personal catharsis, but because it's been over 3 weeks since Burning Shores came out, I have had the time to mull things over more, talk with some friendly people who came to the some of the same conclusions I did, and really analyze everything. I’ve seen a sprinkle of other people expressing something similar to what I am about to cover, but I felt this deserved its own topic of conversation.

And forewarn, there be spoilers.

Of course, we're back to Seyka. I promise I'm not trying to pick on her. She actually has loads of potential, and I don't think she's a bad character. It's just she deserved better than what was shown in her overall character arc.

Last time, I wrote about the Seyloy romance, and why it is difficult (for some more than others) to feel good about it. This critique isn't going to be about that again in case you are wondering if I'm simply yelling louder in the echo chamber, but there will be some correlation to it. The more I played the DLC, the more I realized that while I still wasn’t sold on the romance, it wasn’t the root of why something felt off with Seyka’s story to me. So once the adrenaline of having a new shiny DLC to run around in wore off and was able to properly take my time soaking things in, this was the conclusion I came to:

The biggest issue with Seyka's entire character arc is that they tried way too hard to make her near-exile situation comparable to Aloy's when it very, very much is not.

In any capacity whatsoever. As to why?

Seyka tells us at one point that she loves her tribe, her community, and has always felt she's had a place in it until recently. The reason she's in any hot water at all when we meet her is because she ran off and stole a diviner's focus. Seyka is a marine, not a diviner so we know this is considered a huge taboo among the Quen. They are a sovereign tribe with a classicist system where the people are allowed to know only what is deemed necessary based on their role and/or rank. Should rules be broken, we are left to assume based on our conversations with Alva and even interactions with the Ceo & Overseer Bohai in HFW that the royal family and those in charge are imposing & unforgiving enough that normally there are severe consequences.

Luckily for Seyka, this isn't the case.

The first time we follow her back to Fleet's End, we're met with those who are referred to as Compliance Officers who are wanting a nasty word or two with our new friend. We are brought to Admiral Gerrit, the real person in charge, and he is....actually quite understanding of Seyka's actions. He gives her a quick verbal slap on the wrist but proceeds to give her full permission to continue her search for her sister and their other missing people with the stolen focus on hand. He's humble enough to tell Aloy in a private conversation afterwards if you choose to talk to him that their faction of the expedition has been spread thin enough as it is and Seyka has already proven herself to be a valuable and skilled member. Enough so that he admits he’s become increasingly reliant on her regardless of only being a petty officer in title. This assessment is fair and kind. It’s more than I would have expected out of someone with such a high position among the Quen of all tribes.

Seyka is given a huge safety net thanks to this swell guy. The compliance offers themselves can't do anything, and from what we see in the side quests, they are seemingly nothing more than a few school-yard bullies without any real authority to their position. They are annoying & petty at worst. All bark, no bite. As far as the rest of the Quen go, most individuals we come across seem either pretty cool or neutral with Seyka. It's not until later that we get any indication there are some who are calling for her exile afterall, but we only know this because we hear it from Seyka instead of seeing it happen. People are talking, as they will, and she's furious about it.

But really....the threat still isn't there. It never was. At least not to the extent I think we are supposed to believe it was.

All things considered, Seyka was placed in a very privileged, advantageous position amongst those in her tribe. Along with the lack of visible threat, there is never any real tension shown minus a few grumblings expressed in the background when we first arrive in Fleet’s End. And despite how Aloy perceives her, Seyka isn’t exactly a black sheep here. Especially when you consider she never had any personal turmoil with the rest of her tribe until not long before the events of Burning Shores and happily tells you herself she has always felt like she’s belonged. She's pretty much allowed to do what she wants without much pushback, and I found myself rolling my eyes during the final scene where she says she's unsure of where she stands with her tribe. Seyka is not an outcast, and I, for one, was never convinced or afraid she was at real risk of becoming one.

Which makes this all the more confusing when Aloy says she's an inspiration. An outcast in all but name. I'm willing to chalk some of this up to hormones talking and Aloy's growing infatuation taking a choke hold as most first time crushes will do. Except the problem here is that the writing clearly felt like we were meant to connect Seyka's strife with Aloy's on some level; carry the same sympathy for her that Aloy expresses, and see more of where their similarities hold up.

And yet...

I felt more for Kotallo who was kicked from his initial clan because his leader saw him as a threat and then later, might as well have gotten demoted for losing an arm because his tribe sees him as near useless for it..

And Zo who lives among the most pacifist, peace-loving tribe and was admonished when she not only went to fight back in the Red Raids, but wanted to do something about the blight and their broken Land Gods..

And Talanah who had to fight against blatant sexism that many carry in her tribe and an actual attempt for her murder all because she wanted to move up in the Lodge and make things better..

And Aloy, herself, who was outcast at birth for simply being born without a mother. And spent her entire life with only the man who raised her for company. In one small valley. For 19 years. Because there was no choice for her.

But somehow, we're supposed to see Seyka the same way Aloy does? Like no one she's ever met??

I...Really?

I'm sorry, but I don't buy this rebel fighter, near-outcast ploy here. And saying she's unlike anyone Aloy has ever met feels like a slap in the face to not only Aloy, herself, but to some of her companions we have come to know & love in the first two games. Most of whom I'd argue have been through more hell because of their own tribes long before they even met her. Seyka's plight is trivial, inconsequential in comparison and no where near as crippling as Aloy's was or her friends. It's honestly frustrating that it feels suggested it is.

What's worse is that this plotline is used as one big narrative tool to bring Seyka and Aloy closer on standing grounds outside of ability and personality. This essentially means Seyka and her entire character arc were written for the sole purpose of the romance. A character built for Aloy to quickly fall head over heels for and add progress in her own arc. I wrote last time that I can see this growth as an opportunity to explore romance further for Aloy with a pre-established character or two in H3. If I’m right & that happens to be the heart-wrenching, long-term, master plan Guerilla is going for, they have my applause (and my stress). Great for Aloy. In my opinion though, being created to be a love interest (lasting or not) for the main hero is a bit unfair to Seyka.

She's clever, she's badass, and she isn't afraid to take action without permission and help where she can. Next to Aloy, however, she stands as a self-reflection of her. A spotless mirror as to who Aloy could have been had she grown up under a community as well. I would love to see Seyka break out on her own as an individual character that isn't in the context of romance if ever given the opportunity.

Heck, if Guerilla wanted to in the eventuality they will be finished with Aloy's story, the Quen have easy potential to have an entire spinoff game revolved around them. We have a whole side quest in BS where a small group of Quen want to sneak focuses to non-diviners for the sake of knowing what's usually kept hidden from them. Hello, is that the beginnings of a rebellion, I see? And the world of Horizon has yet to be explored in places outside of the North American continent. Other tribes, different machines, more Old World locations, etc. Loads of potential everywhere. And guess what!? We practically have a budding main character on a silver platter: Seyka! She obviously has big enough main character energy. Might as well utilize it outside of a DLC if you can, and I don't mean for the next game.

It's hard say for sure whether or not Seyka will remain a DLC character. No matter what fans say, the ending was left ambiguous. Not only because of the romance but also where Seyka's future lies. She knows about Nemesis, yet she tells Aloy she's unsure of what she wants to do after her faction reunites with the other half in San Francisco, whether it's going home or something else. I would think if Guerilla had solid plans to include her in H3 while they were developing Burning Shores, they would have written the ending where she either offers to stay behind in Legacy’s Landfall for a time like Alva does or Aloy asks for her aid to help fight against Nemesis. Something to make it more clear she's here to stay. We don't though, so as far as anyone outside of Guerilla is currently aware, Seyka is not guaranteed to play a big part in H3 if any at all. And remember, DLCs are meant to be an extension of the main game and are primarily optional. They are typically not a requirement for playing the next big installment as far as understanding the story goes.

If she does show up in H3, the only thing I dread is the idea of her coming up and saying she's basically denounced her tribe because she still feels out of place and doesn't think she can belong afterall. Not to mention she has her sister, and after what happened with Kina, it would be a really bad look if she just decided to permanently leave her behind when her tribe isn't or never was trying that hard to push her away in the first place. And Seyka said it herself. She’s “not some weak-kneed sailor who abandons ship when the seas get rough,” and I’d like to believe she means it. It'd be one thing if she actually is forced into exile, but after the events of the DLC, she has too good of a repertoire for that to happen now. At least while she's outside of Quen homelands.

(Btw, don't even get me started on Aloy's convo with Kina over "remember Seyka's been through a lot too" as if we didn't just rescue this poor girl from A CULT and nearly groomed into becoming this centuries-old dude's image of his dead wife. Like honey, I know you're in love but have some thought & tact here.)

That’s about it. I will reiterate that as a character, I do actually like Seyka. As a self-imposed outcast? No. As Aloy’s love interest? That…needs some serious work. But as an individual who loves her tribe but will fight for what she believes in even if it means going against the royal, societal grain? Absolutely! And special kudos to Kylie Liya Page for bringing her to life.

Also, if you want to read a review that summarizes everything I just ranted about better than I could manage, along with everything good and not-so-great when it comes to the DLC, I recommend this essay here by ariseis.

If you made it to the end of this long rant, thanks for reading~

#horizon #horizon forbidden west #horizon zero dawn #hfw #burning shores #hfw burning shores #horizon forbidden west burning shores #seyka #burning shores spoilers #burning shores critique #guerilla

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