#which is so wild to me cause i never thought of having my own showcase at those events and now i wanna do it more than anything

[xexiar]

God! I’m currently working on explaining this blasphemy!

First read around I understood why and thought it was entertaining. But going back on it, this was unnecessary. It’s causing more harm than good. It paints him as a wild animal that can’t be control.

Sure, it comes back to the whole kidnapping by villains. But like, it’s a teenager! And he’s being showcased in a major event that he’s not stable.

So of course nobody should have been surprised that he got kidnapped. Especially when making it clear as day that not even trained heroes know what to do with him.

Which makes his character even more amazing and inspiring. Because, here’s a child who’s put in the spotlight both good and bad. A child who has to constantly be pressured to be “perfect”. But same time people sees him as a monster. The society itself doesn’t see him as a person but as a weapon.

And the whole thing about Best Jeanist being a hero that “conforms” “trouble youths” always hit a nerve with me. Constantly trying to push ideals onto a child to fit into society.

Deku has the obvious being rejected by society for being quirkless. There’s the whole “victim” who eventually stands up for himself.

But there’s nothing like having your every move judge at every waking moment. To have grownups question your every thought. Where how easily you can be seen as a villain if you break an unspoken rule.

It really does hurt to see him go through all that. But I enjoy the few moments where he explores who he truly is as a person. He’s caring, encouraging, hard working to get what he wants. He’s also very friendly.

Then we also get to witness that he doesn’t know many society acceptable behaviors for kids his age. Like activities and gestures that boys his age tend to do. He’s very isolated.

For example: many people when meeting me and knowing my story say that I’m “a shelter child” all because I don’t understand or know common things that people outside my situation knows. I didn’t know there was a thing called Comic Con until college. A lot of my peers were shocked that I didn’t even know that or common events within my own city. I grew up in NYC but know absolutely nothing about it. A lot of people are shocked at the fact I don’t have a common accent to tell what part of NY I’m from. I never knew about the Nintendo or Dinsey store. I basically only ever knew about the outside world was through the internet or documentaries.

So I understand and see the same signs in Katsuki. Of course he doesn’t agree with not using his quirk in public, because everyone always telling him how amazing his quirk is. So he shows it off to hopefully get praised for doing good. The few times he seems to have a social life is with people that lives within walking distance from school to home. He does not travel. He does not know anything outside of his bubble.

Katsuki is basically a “shelter child”. I hate that term. So while going through UA his bubble grows. Izuku isn’t just a childhood friend he has mixed emotions about growing up. Izuku is also like a comfort blanket for Katsuki. Izuku is someone he knows, so it’s easier to go to him when something is wrong.

And as Katsuki has a person, he’s also learning knew things. His bubble is no longer small. It gets to where he doesn’t seek comfort from Izuku, that’s where I believe is when he starts to try to understand his emotions. Like why go to someone who no longer serve their original purpose? I think Katsuki then gets hits with a realization that his life feels empty.

He finally has “friends” and is getting comfortable with himself. He starts trying to make amends for past actions. There’s a borderline between obsession due to that’s the only thing you know and relearning an emotion that was always there.

I’ll use myself as an example for that part. I didn’t I liked girls the way I know now to be. I fought with myself the whole time. Thinking how “we’re just friends” to justify my actions. Always agreeing with my female “friend”, giving her gifts, even giving flowers and calling her pretty. She thought I was weird. Then later in life when I finally understood myself more and my emotions, I learned this “friend” feeling was actually a crush.

Hence why I love the idea of Katsuki coming to terms with himself and eventually realizing he always had a crush on Izuku. And then having those emotions grow but trying harder than ever to bury them. It’s so poetic. Now with this new volume I’m super excited to see if he will finally confess. After all, he is Katsuki Bakugo and he always has to be first.

… SHIT! Lol I rambled lol 😂 I’m not editing or taking this down. Either way, oops 😅

#writer rambles #writer thoughts #bakugo katsuki #fanfic notes #thoughts

[sirpepperston]

crying and screaming and farting cause I think I could have an actual career as an artist in my city

#every month downtown they have this big art night and ive been a couple times in the past few years and its amazing #and they started doing them again and i cant go to the one next week cause ill be out of town #but i was looking at some of the artists that'll be there and i think no one in town has art that looks anything like mine #and theres a lot of amazing shit i havent been showing lately cause theyre from big projects that you might not see until at least a year #from now. but i feel like i have something new to bring to the scene here #like a new perspective and different skills and ideas. something so good and so fresh that i could make a name for myself here #and i already wanted to open an online store by next year but the thought that i could also have a physical place.... #a studio that ISNT in my garage and i could work with other artists in the city......i think i could do that by january #which is so wild to me cause i never thought of having my own showcase at those events and now i wanna do it more than anything #i think this is what i really want tbh. i dont care about online fame and followers at fucking all. i want this. #and to think a couple years ago i expected to be getting my cyber security certs this fall lmao....instead im starting ny career up. damn

[katsukikitten]

Just some general warnings and disclaimers, this is an aged up Victorian era AU that I did a sort of collab with @bakugotrashpanda, so please check out BTP’s work as well. We had so much fun discussing this idea and breathing life into it, we would love to hear how these stories made you feel. Please also note that the woman in the banner is NOT the set skin tone for reader so please feel free to have that match your own skin tone! Also this is one of my bigger works coming in at a little over 14,000 words! (maybe a part two idk) but enjoy~

The room ebbs in the low light of flickering candles, people gather in clusters like lost geese as they honk their gossip at one another causing you to sigh. It would be another long night of mental games as your cold eyes fail to warm from the eccentric sights. Silk dresses, long gloves, shimmering gems, and endless drink and food. 

Yet you hated how little power you had over your choice of being here or not. 

Countless eyes rake over your long dress, always choosing a color so deep in hue it is often mistaken for black. They often murmur curiosities as they ponder over what exactly you are mourning.

Little do they know it is your freedom. 

Tonight you are in blood red with matching gloves to your elbows, diamonds, garnets and rubies drip from your throat and ears. A sight to be seen in your bold dark colors that are often frowned upon during the bright season of spring and summer. 

A bold male approaches and yet the closer he gets to your stunning form the more meek he becomes. He nods his head and reaches for your hand, pressing his lips to your gloved knuckles. 

"May I have your first dance?" He peers up at you as you stare down with an icy glare. Removing your hand with deadly precision from a man you know of but could not care less about. 

"You may not." You say simply and all he can do is stew in his rejection, affirming your wishes with a small nod. Another male in a smooth storm grey suit approaches. His large hand grasping onto your fingers, bringing your knuckles to his lips. 

"You look exquisite my dear. Would you honor me with your first dance?" 

"I shall not." Another subtle yet swift removal of your hand from his, wishing you had worn two pairs of gloves for this sniveling little asshole. Not everyone knew his secret love for abusing women but you did. He would never get the pleasure of dancing with you and in the two years since your introduction into the market you've made sure he had no one to wed. Using the power and respect people had towards your Father's name, towards you for guidance, ultimately steering them away from this pathetic sack of bones. 

And with your power you were dubbed the icy hot debutante of Alryne, fierce as a flame so hot, it felt cold. 

You wear a neutral face, but you do not smile, making yourself a touch unapproachable. This already weeds out the weak men who want nothing more than to suck the blood and money from your father's estate. 

But it wasn't as if the neutral face was easy to achieve, oftentimes you had to fight a scowl. For two years you've hated every second of every ball, party, or soiree since the Queen smiled in your favor during your first debut. She often praised, as did your mother, your cold precision, quick wit, and intelligent political decisions that were so well disguised that men just thought you modest. 

When in actuality you were playing the game, and since you were being forced to play by your father then by Hell's flames you would win it all. 

The first half of the ball drags in stupor of tedious repetition as you idly chat with women of various titles to gather any information you could without revealing your own hand. 

Besides all of the pestering gnats, everyone knows that your first dance is always reserved for important males, to never approach until after the two of your six stamps have already been taken. Even then there was a high chance of rejection, as there were no men of value to be seen. 

At least not yet. For as long as you could remember the higher ranked males arrived a touch late, "fashionably late" they claim. Abhorrently annoying is what you call it.  

Fashionably late men such as Lord Bakugou, son to the Duke of Summer or his distant cousin Lord Kirishima, son to the Duke of Spring. 

Bakugou arrives first, his grin wolfish as he scans the crowd, women flock to his arrogance in troves, although he ignores them. He has one woman in his sights yet it is not the woman he stands before. You give a small courtesy as you speak. 

"My Lord." Offering your hand gently. 

"My Starlight." He presses his lips to your silky glove for a long moment unable to keep his cocky smirk off of his face, "May I take your first dance?" 

Fighting to keep the delighted smile off of your face you offer a flutter of your lashes. He kisses your knuckles once more as if you needed convincing but the two of you know what you are doing. 

"You may." And with that his wolfish grin returns as he sweeps you onto the dance floor, showcasing your abilities as he shows off his own. Not to mention the dance floor is a great place to talk in private. His hand lingers just above your lower back, firm in his grip as his other hand holds yours almost delicately. 

"We match tonight, my Starlight. A brilliant touch." He guides you along the floor with ease, his eyes gesturing towards his vest and tie. 

"I only took an educated guess as to what you would wear, my Lord." 

"Do not sell yourself short. I know how sharp that mind is." Another wolfish grin, his eyes never leaving yours while feeling the court gaze upon the two of you. You give him a knowing smile before asking. 

"Any luck with her majesty, the prized diamond?" You ask, eyes blazing with curiosity. He smirks again, only his eyes revealing his true scoff as he twirls you in your jeweled slippers. 

"I did as you instructed and went with my father to that dreaded stay at the countryside Manor, how did you know her Majesty and Princess Amila would be close by." 

"I took an educated guess." A blatant lie that has him grinning from ear to ear. He leans closer, pulling the attention of the ladies especially as his ember eyes burn into you. 

"Far more than an educated guess." He spins you again and you fight the tightness in your gut. Enjoying the dance as he parades you around the room as if to say look at what I have that you could never. 

Even if the two of you agreed you would never be his. The two of you having struck up an arrangement of sorts on your first dance. He was forced by his Grace to ask at least one woman to dance and he had only chosen you with hopes that you would say no. 

But you loved the honest, irritated look that lingered in his eyes and on his lips. So of course you said yes as misery loves company. It was then he told you not to fall for him as he had his eyes set on the Crown, you laughed loudly and said "As if I would ever fall for an arrogant pig such as yourself, my Lord." His smile was wild as he enjoyed your insult, it was then you told him you would help him with the Crown, only if he made you his first and last dance of the evening at every event. 

Back then he had hesitantly agreed, now he can see how far your scheming mind went. Saw the numerous callers and suitors who loitered in your parlor, the extravagant flowers that they sent in excess. The rings they bestowed to you as they dropped to one knee, bold enough to peacock the large diamonds in front of other callers. 

And all after Bakugou had done as you asked for only three parties. He got a front row seat to rejection every single time, which in turn started the talk, the gossip, that this city loved.  You were desired because of how you painted yourself and in turn made Lord Bakugou desired as well. Talked about, all because he was the only male who had your approval. 

He loved your scheming mind so much he could kiss you, but alas you did not wear a crown. Although you often had a braid of jewels atop your head, sadly you were not kin to royalty, only a Baron's daughter after all. 

Bakugou wonders what you could have done as a queen. He would think you an empress.

"Is that all the detail I get? Just a confirmation that I was correct about their holiday?" He spins the two of you in step, hand guiding you although you did not need it. Having memorized every step to every dance there was since before your debut. 

"She saw me." 

"And?!" You can hardly keep up the façade of calm collection as you wait. 

"And she flushed. Her cheeks were as red as any rose, Starlight, she was a rare red diamond sparkling by the lake. She must already be in love with me."  You snort, unable to stop the smile on your lips. 

"I've never heard you so poetic before. Normally you leave that to Lord Kirishima. How many times did you run into her? Not more than three I hope."

"Oi, I am a well versed student and I listened to my teacher. I made her wait for the fourth and denied it. Left her in wonder and hope as you said." He rolls his eyes, fingers sliding up to your dress line touching your bare skin with his beneath your guise of hair. The sensation of his warm fingers against your cool skin does not go unnoticed. 

"Are you practicing for your dance with the 'rare red diamond' now?" You taunt, earning that chest tightening wolf grin. 

"I'm only doing as my teacher has instructed." 

"Well the Princess will fall for you the moment you kiss her hand." 

"One can only hope. Her official debut is less than a month away. I want it to be perfect." His eyes shimmer with plotting mischief as does yours. 

"So it shall." 

The music flows and ebbs to the end of the song as Bakugou deposits you right back where he got you. Bringing your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles as he holds your gaze once more. 

"My Starlight." When he straightens you curtsy.

"My Grace." With that he leaves, heading towards the table of sweets and beverages, you were sure he would be ordering bourbon. Your mother clears her throat from her chair, the out of season silk blanket over her thick skirts pulls at your heart. She sits on that plush chair as if it were her throne. 

"You dance with Lord Bakugou often." An observation. 

"Indeed." A dry retort. 

"I am sure Lord Kirishima will be your next dance, correct?" 

"One can only hope." 

"So you have an eye for a Duke's son?" 

"I am happy to dance with those deserving, Mother." Your mother keeps her eyes on the turning bodies on the hardwood floor, Kirishima makes his way through the crowd once he spies you. Your mother turns to face you as she says 

"Is the Duke of Winter's son deserving?" 

"Hmm, he has three sons, mother." You keep your eyes away from her until she finally looks back into the crowd. 

"Ah yes but only one is ever at these events." You follow your mother's gaze and they fall upon the Lord, he is the third son, he opted to chase after the world of medicine rather than women. Earning his doctorate much faster than his peers, he only just returned to conduct his practice in Alryne. 

Pity he returned at all. 

He catches your eye and you make a point to turn your cheek, unable to stomach his heterochromatic, condensing gaze. Your turned cheek was as close to fuck you as you could ever say to the high and mighty Lord. Still the words burned on your tongue as if you swallowed acid. 

"It is not as if he ever dances mother. Therefore, how can I give him my attention? As you taught me a woman must wait to be asked as it is every woman's dream to be wed to a handsome, skilled dancer." Out of the corner of your eye you can feel her displeased look before she straightens. 

"At least do not string along Lord Kirishima, that boy is not as zealous as his cousin." She says just as the large man slips through the last throng of the crowd. 

"My shining gem." He smiles with sharp teeth before he places a chaste kiss atop your hand. 

"My Lord." A curtsy before he asks. 

"May I have this dance?" His smile is plastered on his face as he knows your answer. 

"You may." Kirishima sweeps you across the floor in a different manner than Bakugou. Lord Kirishima is more flirtatious in the way that he guides you. Always choosing more of the upbeat dances as opposed to his cousin's serious selection. You do not hesitate to go in for the kill. 

"So when do you plan to ask Lady Mina for her hand?" He blushes at your words. Biting the inside of his lip subtly, a habit you could only notice from being up close. 

"Have you even attempted to court her? What fear plagues you, Lord?" Confusion dots your features as a sad smile paints his soft lips. 

"I am not sure she would- That we would be an ideal fit." Kirishima admits, turning you gracefully, pulling you close to his body. Scandalous some would say had the two of you been an inch closer. 

"Well my Lord, I believe, had you actually talked to her while the two of you danced, as I suggested, then you would come to find out that she is lovely. Pure hearted as she is honest in this game seeking love. Most women here are making attempts to move up in position, my Lord. As a Duke's first son the title of Grace is yours to master. She is a delight and air is not the only thing between her ears as some of these…"You survey the room as everyone watches with greedy eyes, "Vultures." 

He laughs never used to your own unwavering honesty. He knows you are not participating by your own free will, he knows because you are helping himself and his cousin when he was sure you could have had anyone in this room.

If the Majesty's nephew, Prince of the Yarrow were to attend even one ball this season, Kirishima was sure you would have his attention too.  

He twirls your body away from his and brings you back to the safety of his sturdy form. Your eyes are molten determination as you all but hiss 

"Ask her to dance next. You know the host prefers the set to be serious, flirtatious, and then a slow dance. It will be the perfect time to talk." 

Lord Kirishima sighs, squeezing your hand as he guides the two of you closer to your mother so he can leave you in her company. 

"You could turn any dull man into something more. Whoever wins your hand is getting a precious gem indeed." He kisses your hand as the music begins to change into something slower as you had predicted. 

"One shall only hope." You curtsy as he takes his flushed neck towards a certain Countess. Your mother gives you a knowing look and you offer her a cat smirk. She shakes her head but even she cannot hide her own satisfied smile.

A blonde male approaches, as he does every third ball after he ensures your first two dances have been taken. The flamboyant male has not once asked for a dance first, trying to be just as calculating as you. Although he is much more obvious. 

You suppose it was not half bad for a male. 

"My lady." He bends lower than he should for his station in life, but he is obviously copying the cousins before him having seen how it makes you smile. 

Lavender eyes shine up at you as the Viscount brings his lips to your gloved hand. You debate if you should say yes tonight. Having left him in the dark as your desire to dance with him solely depended on your mood. 

"May I show the room the grace in which steals the breath from my lungs?" Your eyes smirk as your lips form a small smile. It seems flattery would earn him a dance tonight. 

"You may." 

The Viscount smiles with delight as he gently takes you to the dance floor, holding you to him as he takes you across the hardwood. The candle lights play along your features as Monoma's face grows soft. Had he been anyone else his gaze might have brought a flush about you. The two of you shared a few dances before, he has sat in your parlor in the time he has attempted to court you and the flowers he sends are always the most expensive. 

He has even brought you chocolate from a month's long trip. Even you had to admit that was thoughtful, not too many people knew of your Achilles heel. A small part of you thought that if no one else would do, at least this man would bring you luxurious chocolates. 

"No trips this season?" You smile politely, he blinks as he seems to come to. 

"Only if I can take you with me." He smiles, a hint. You pretend yourself modest and look away to fight the roll of your eyes. 

Maybe chocolate would not be enough to sate you. 

His eyes flicker to your mother as a question forms on his lips. 

"Neither your brothers nor the Baron attended tonight?" 

"Ah unfortunately no. My mother is my chaperone tonight." You say tilting your head, he turns so you can face her, stepping slowly as the song lulls on. 

"I am elated she is well enough to attend." He smiles, you cannot tell if it reaches his eyes so instead you offer 

"As am I." 

The rest of the night is filled with rejection tumbling from your rouged lips as champagne flutes seem to find their way into your hand. 

"Not too much of that dear or you will not be able to enjoy the company of your suitors." 

"Truly a pity." You say taking another from a passing waiter. Eyes trained on Lord Iida and the lovely dancer in his hands, a blue dress sweeping across the floor and a white carnation nestled in her hair. 

A beautiful touch and it pays homage to their first dance before they were even wed. 

The love that embraced the couple could turn anyone in the room green with envy. 

You down your flute as you reach for another. 

Night brightens into morning much too soon as curtains are ripped open in your room. 

"My lady callers will be here soon." Rose, your handmaiden says softly, "I have a bath waiting for you."

You groan in response having not had enough sleep after pouring over your drafts for your book until your candle snuffed itself out. 

"Turn them all away Rose." You growl turning away from the irritating light, could it not have rained this morning to delay the suitors as it always did in this forsaken town?

"She will do no such thing." Your mother says as she walks into your room with her cane, her hand gripping onto the golden beak of a bird. 

"Mother, why not marry off Hendrix or  Hideki?" 

"Hendrix must apprentice under your Father for a period of time while Hideki can do as he pleases for now. He is only 20, besides he makes an excellent chaperone does he not? He isn't too nosy nor does he neglect his duties to intimidate pushy men." She pushes some of your hair back as she sighs, "Although I doubt you need help in that manor." 

"I deserve a strong bloodline, so I will do what I must to ensure that. Even if my face has to be scary at times." You and your mother share a laugh before she adds. 

"Your face is far from scary my dear." She touches your cheek softly rising from the bed to allow you to get ready, "The suitors shall arrive within the hour. Make haste." 

"Yes mother." You half groan rising to wash. Enjoying the warm water that Rose has so kindly added aromatic flora and citrus to. Once you enter your bedroom Rose has a dress picked out for you, waiting for your final approval. You nod allowing Rose to assist you with your corset and strings of your dress before you pick out jewelry to match your silver finery. You choose a silver bracelet with little diamonds as stars that Lord Bakugou had given you for your birthday this past year, smiling down at the small thing before assessing yourself in the mirror. 

"What do you think Rose, should I add some rouge to my lips?" She gives you a smile of delight. 

"And your cheeks too, my Lady." 

Breakfast is served in the parlor as it consists mostly of fruits and finger pastries that will be served to the other guests. Hideki comes down in a fine and deep sapphire suit. 

“Sister.” He gives a smirk to which you nod.

“Brother.”

“And what trouble will you get into today?” He stage whispers, causing you to cut him a glare as your father comes around to loom in the arch way of the parlor. 

“Remember, you need to pick a husband this season or I will pick for you. It is disgraceful to have gone through two seasons at your age.”

“I am only twenty four, dearest Father..”

“That just proves my point. You have a month before I extend an offer to the Duke's-.” He takes in a sharp breath to chide you further only for his Grace to swoop in and save the day.

“Baron.” Bakugou says, his eyes challenging as your father bows his head. As Bakugou makes his way towards the delicate foods. Father cuts you a knowing glare. As if to say I know your games child.

You offer a sweet smile as you make your way towards your small writing desk, fighting off the urge to groan outwardly. You just wanted to work on your manuscript or read for that matter. Instead you would have to entertain men who cared not what you thought only what your pretty mouth would not say. They would swarm you, demanding attention as you waved them off gently, half you had never even spoken too.  Bakugou gives you a wicked smile from beside you as if he could read your thoughts. At least he always sat closest to you, saving you in a way although you never instructed him to sit close. 

He just always had. 

"Do you not want to play the piano today, my shining Gem?" Kirishima asks from the door. 

"Ah I am not sure I am in the mood for it, my Lord." 

"Easier to avoid people as the bench is only meant for one." Bakugou gives a devilish smirk, Kirishima almost pouts, his sullen expression does not go unnoticed by his cousin. 

"It has been an eon since you last played for us." Bakugou adds. 

"Am I to be your song bird today?" You cut a glare at him. 

"Yes, Starlight I believe you are." It seems it had no effect. Sighing you stand, collecting your skirts as your wrist twinkles in the morning sun. Garnet eyes bore into the delicate wristlet. Your fingers pluck a key here or there until you begin to play. Losing yourself in the music as you sing ballads from ages ago, melding them into songs you've written until it all sounds like a cohesive piece. Each old song is lost in transition to the new one, time ticks on but you do not notice the string of men who come and go from your parlor. Resting your voice for the time being as your fingers fly across the keys to something you composed while thinking of your father and his ever pushing hand towards a Duke's son you had great distaste for. The notes are sharp, almost jarring at times yet still the piece is stunning.  In that time you had not noticed the lavender eyed man who sat closest to you, right in front of the piano in the corner of the couch. The finger cramping song ends on a somber, harsh note. 

"What a beautifully charged song." Monoma says breathlessly. 

“Well I was thinking of my enemies when I composed it.” You smile at the sunshine blonde with a devilish grin, he feels unsettled by it but says nothing nonetheless. His lavender eyes glance over to the wolves at the back of your den. Hideki gives him a small nod, Kirishima a soft smile but Bakugou gives him a glare that feels like Monoma is gripping needles. 

He swallows thickly, adjusting himself on the plushed silk of the couch before your small piano. 

“Ah before I forget.” He smiles pulling out a box setting it atop the polished wood. Gifts were a natural part of courtship or so your mother said. You offer a smile, grabbing for the box with poised eagerness and yet not overly so. 

Not that you were excited but you had to pretend to be. You unbox the obvious jewelry and fight back the distaste as you stare down at a gaudy, overly large necklace. The colors are a soft green and yellow, colors you avoid for many reasons. 

“Thank you.” You think to add a chord or two to your unnamed song in honor of Monoma. Bakugou laughs loudly from the back of the room, feeling how much you hate the gift, you look over your shoulder to send him a glare that he can only smile at. 

After hours of trepid and boring conversation Monoma takes his leave. 

“Another evening my Lady.” He smiles softly and you return it half heartedly.

“Another evening.” Lavender looks over your shoulder before Monoma clears his throat

“Your Grace and your Grace.” He bows his head, the ash blonde and redhead nod in unison. 

"Shall we go and drink my high friends?" Hideki asks, hoping for an excuse to leave the stuff house. He was more than over bearing witness to  gag worthy stares and compliments some of these men gave you. 

"An excellent idea!" Kirishima exclaims, standing before stopping by you. He takes your gloveless hand with a sharp, flirtatious smile. 

"My shining gem." He presses his lips to your skin and you return his smile. 

"My Lord." He nods and takes his leave, Hideki at his heels as Bakugou approaches. He does an exaggerated sigh unable to hide his smirk. 

"Little songbird how will I ever get through the night without my Starlight?" He holds your hand, lowering his upper half as did his cousin before him. 

"I suppose you will fumble in the dark."

"If only I had the pleasure." He purrs as he presses his lips to your bare skin. Suddenly his fingers are too warm as he holds your gaze, he looks as if he could devour you. 

Lest he forget he is staring down a panther himself. 

"Have fun fumbling in the dark by yourself, my Lord." You remove your hand and look out of the corner of your eye at him. He backs towards the door of the room. 

"I should hope to have thoughts of Starlight." He calls before he disappears into the hall. You tap a key as your mind wanders before you rise, famished and ready for dinner before you would take a long night of writing. 

A month passes by faster than you'd like and you find yourself outside of the ballroom in the grand hall of the castle. Soft music filters in through the doors as your Father insisted the family be a bit late this evening. 

For he wanted to make a statement and one at your expense. 

"If Duke Enji's son asks you for a dance you will oblige." Your father hisses, his large hand curling around your bicep. You bare your teeth, stepping out of his grip as you collect yourself. 

"He has three." Acid drips from your tongue as sure as morning dew. 

"The doctor. Not the failure first born and not the inadequate second. The third. Shoto. Think of your ailing mother...would you abandon her for such vile, pointless ambitions?"

"I think you will not weaponize her. So do as I please and decline." You hold his burning glare as you add, "If the Duke's family is as bad off as you make it seem." 

"Oh I think you shall accept his dance. Or so help me God I will burn every book your ill, grief stricken mother ever shoved into your scrubby little hands." He leans closer, a nasty smile forming as his lips, "And if that is not enough I will throw your manuscript into the fire for fodder." 

Your eyes blaze with a rage that ignites beneath your skin, burning your blood as your eyes make unspoken promises. When I am through with you 

You part your lips to retort but your eye catches Hendrix and Hideki, their eyes filled with pity before your mother slowly approaches. 

Father chose his battleground well, knowing you would be unable to react as you pleased and with Bakugou already at the party there was no other male to save you. You bite your tongue until you taste blood. 

"Is everything alright?" Mother asks tentatively, fussing with your hair, "Darling you must mind your face, my love." 

You swat her away, breathing through your nose as if you were a dragon. Heat still dancing in your veins as you allow your feet to move on their own. 

"Announce me. Only me. And do not announce another soul until I am beyond the last step." You hiss to the harbinger whose eyes grow wide before he nods. His voice booms over the murmurers of the crowd and once eyes begin to land on you they are silenced. 

Your eyes are set hard and as cold as stone as you look over the crowd, slowly descending the steps in your deep ombre gown. Starless night black from the bodice before it lightens gradually into a charcoal grey, glittering crystals sewn into the material shine in the candle light like miniature stars. Your gloves followed the same gradual pattern except it seemed as if each finger was dipped in glittering silver and atop your wrist was your favorite piece, diamonds winking in the low light set into silver pointed stars. Woven in your hair were diamonds and pale citrine alike forming a crown in its own nature. 

Had Her Royal Highness not have already been announced and seated it would be easy to mistake you for the Crown. Considering how you commanded attention and held yourself, eyes looking at no one but seeing all. 

The envy, the awe, the lust. 

A pivotal moment was coming, the last three stairs is where a woman would normally hold out their hand, expecting their favorite suitor to take action but you did not hold out your hand. Keeping one firmly on the dark wood of the banister while the other was eloquently posed beside you. Even if you had held out your hand the men in the room were too stunned to step up to help you. This allowed a soft, devilish smile to form on your painted lips as they performed exactly as you had planned. Finally your gem encrusted slipper touched the hardwood, parting the crowd before the spell was broken by the announcement of the rest of your family. The room let out a collective breath and instantly erupted in hot gossip. All of it falling on deaf ears as you grabbed onto a flute of trusted champaign. 

From across the room you felt burning garnet eyes on you, you met them briefly before sipping at your bubbly beverage. He begins to cross the sea of bodies when a large man steps into your view. 

His eyes are cold as they bore into you, a shining sapphire paired with a smokey quartz. Distaste curdles your stomach as you fight to keep your face neutral and your eyes trained on him. Fans block painted lips as they spread more gossip about the man before you. 

"Is she ensnaring another Duke's son?" 

"She is becoming too haughty for a Baron's daughter." 

"Do you think she insulted the Crown with her entrance?" 

"Would you allow me your first dance?" His deep voice cuts through the vultures' cries pulling you back to him. He has your glittering left hand in his. Brining the dazzling glove to his lips in greeting, there is no joy in his gemstone gaze. 

The hot rage bears its teeth again as it surges through your blood like liquid fire, burning so hot it felt cold as it licked at your bones. Your lip barely twitches, No poised on your tongue as your father's grating voice echoes in your head. 

"Think of your ailing mother...would you abandon her for such vile, pointless ambitions?" 

And so your mouth finally forms the words. 

"You may."  He looks surprised, surrounding faces mirror his own before he fully takes your hand. Guiding you to the floor during one of your favorite songs that you always sat out as no dance partner ever dared the secret, advanced steps. You were steeling yourself for disappointment 

Shoto's grip on your body is tight but not uncomfortable as he sweeps you across the dance floor, twirling you, guiding you as he holds your gaze. His stare is heavy and intense in a different manner from Bakugou's with a hint of something that could be mistaken as flirtatious. But you saw it for what it was, discontent. 

As the song pushed on the discontent seemed to change into something new entirely as he showcased your skill while hiding his own. Allowing you to twirl away from him in several rotations that would make even the most skillful dancer fearful of misstep and yet you breathed in the music as if it were precious air. Neither of you notice how the other dancers give you room, allowing for more twirls and advanced steps as the two of you are becoming lost to the music. His fingers brush your bare skin as he pulls you back to him for  guided, sharp steps as the music heightens. His skin brushes yours again, electricity thrums beneath the pads of his fingers before he sends you into another dizzying rotation but to you it was nothing. Briefly you wonder if this were a test until you see the soft smile on his lips when you return to his arms safely for the final set of guided steps before the music were to abruptly end, just as the dance was intended. His eyes were glued to yours the entirety of the dance, softening with each step. 

Both of you stop in beat with the last soaring note panting as the movement seems to catch up with the two of you. Neither of you realize how quiet the room is until clapping comes from the royal dais high above the room, the rest of the crowd follows suit. Shock melts into a smile as your eyes return to his. A sharp pain rings out in his chest. 

"Not bad for a Baron's daughter." Disgust settles on your face faster than you can stop it spewing from your lips. 

"Not bad for a recluse of a Duke's son." You tilt your head up, fighting the snarl of your lip as his face becomes so mind numbingly neutral while his eyes darken. Shoto drops you off by your mother only for Bakugou to approach, swiftly bringing you to the floor for a slow song. 

"Starlight. How did I not know you could dance like that?" He is astonished by your skill, "I've never seen you so happy. Maybe the Duke of Winter's third son will do you justice yet." 

You scoff but all Bakugou can do is offer you a deadly smile. 

"Enough about my dead end dancing." Your eyes glance towards the dias, the Princess cannot look away from the two of you, "This should be enough for the Princess to want to dance soon." 

It is Bakugou's turn to scoff. 

"Are you sure she is even going to have the opportunity to dance? No one is even allowed on the stairs to their enclave." 

"Ah but this is her debut. The Queen will allow it, besides the princess cannot keep her gaze off of a certain ash blonde." 

"How could she ever?" Your laugh rings out, it warms even the coldest hearts as Bakugou pulls you closer to him. Heat radiates from his body in a calming manner, your fingers squeeze his. 

"Arrogant as ever." You smile, thinking how you will miss dancing with him or even having him at the back of your parlor to laugh with over sad attempts at your hand, "Remember once you take her one dance for the night, she must be your first and last dance of the night in the future, if not your only." 

Bakugou cannot hide the dejection in his eyes even as he feigns cockiness. 

"I am a well versed student, remember?" His fingers brush over your skin, his middle finger tracing a small circle. 

"The best student I could ask for." The music comes to a close on more than just the song as Bakugou returns you to your family. He presses a long kiss to your glittering glove. 

"Until we meet again, my Starlight." He holds your stare. 

"Until then my Grace." With that the night sets into motion as you turn down dances left and right. Eyeing a ruby haired man who twirls a certain countess in his hands. As the music ends the Queen stands earning a hushed crowd. 

"My daughter, the Royal Princess shall take the dance floor, she will only allow one dance on the night of her debut." It is not a shock that she is allowed so little but there is no worry on Bakugou's face. The princess straightens at the top of the stairs, trying to exude the same commanding energy you did. She falls short in power but outshines you in other wordly innocence and grace. As if she were a lily that only bloomed for the moon, her beauty unmatched in her pale pink dress. Carefully she guides the layers of it down the steps as diamonds and pearls drip from her hair and throat. She tries to keep her eyes from sticking to a broad shouldered man and yet at the same time from wandering, as she stares at the back wall of the room. 

As she nears the third step Bakugou struts towards his prize with the ease of a relaxed swagger, glaring at men as he passes before he reaches the bottom of the steps. Extending his hand to the Princess just as she hits the third step from the bottom. She cannot keep the smile off of her face as her gloved hand claps onto his bare fingers. He bows deeply, raising her hand above him to look from beneath long lashes before he brings his lips to the silk. 

"Your Royal Highness, my shining diamond. You are truly the envy of the night." A flush gives the Princess' lack of experience away, "May I have this dance?" 

"You may." It is a breathy answer before Bakugou sweeps her off of her feet. Charming her with each calculated step and  arrogant quip. The princess smiles wide and almost pouts once the music begins to ebb. Bakugou returns her to the stairs, supporting her hand as long as he can before she rises out of reach.

But to Bakugou she never was and never will be unattainable. 

Before the night is over an envelope is pressed into your hands with the Crown's seal pressed into the wax. You quirk your brow, tucking it away to be read at home. 

"I am so elated you came." Her voice is like honey as the butler opens the doors to a parlor so large it could hold your entire home. She guides you towards a small table and fights with the layers of her silk dress before sitting.

"How could I reject a personal invitation from her majesty?" You sit across from her, eyes going over the deck of cards and a set of tea. 

"Well, believe it or not, I do not have the pleasure of friends, so please call me Amila." 

"Everyone would desire to be a friend of the Crown, your Royal Highness." You counter, quickly she points her fan towards you, tapping your side of the small ornate card table. 

"Ah but you do not have the desire to befriend the Crown, so I have high hopes that you will befriend me for me." She smiles, a certain gleam to her eye before she says, "Now let's talk about handsome Bakugou and how well you played me." 

Your face gives nothing away as you look up from the cards you've been dealt. Your mind rushes down all possible avenues but you know to avoid the one of playing dumb. It is obvious that the Princess has a keen eye. 

"Surely you'll reveal to me what gave us away." 

"After that dance Bakugou had with me, had I been anyone else he would have returned to you. He either has his only dance with you or his last dance with you. I figured him or Lord Kirishima to be heavily interested in you. You are a sparkling gem amongst the coal down there so I know you have many callers and suitors. But the last to leave are always Lord Bakugou and Lord Kirishima. That is what has thrown me off the scent."  You laugh at her honesty of the knowledge she has obviously collected about you or was tactful enough to guess. 

"This is what we do, your Royal Highness." Your gloved hand gestures to the table, "I take them for all that they are worth." An honest giggle leaves Amilia's lips.

"For that I am grateful and some would dare say I am in your debt." 

"A brazen statement." Your eyes return to your cards, "I would not state it as a debt although I am happy to receive your gratitude. Especially since it is in the form of cards and cake." 

A laugh falls from her lips as a smile settles on yours. The round of cards continues. You win the first few rounds and then Amelia has a lucky hand. Winning the last white tea macaron. 

"Did you allow me to best you?" 

"Lady Luck just happened to take favor of the Crown." 

"Or maybe she took pity. " She smiles, fingers fidgeting nervously, "Would you care to admire the art? Mother allows me to have this as my own personal parlor so I decorate it as I wish." 

"I would love to admire some of these lovely paintings. Starting with the one behind you." You stand, heading to the large piece you had been eyeing for some time during the games. You could tell by the stroke of the brush that the artist was newer to painting but they were quite talented, the strokes almost went unnoticed even by your sharp eye. 

Most importantly were the emotions the work of art evoked from the viewer. 

Silently the two of you drank in the large oil painting. The canvas colored in deep pinks, reds and oranges as the sun laid to rest to allow its lover the full scope of the sky. Shadows stretched far and towards the viewer and if one paid close attention they would notice the black cat in the corner with two large moon eyes. 

You especially liked this painting, the ease it made you feel even earning a small smile. 

"I can already tell this one is by far my favorite, your Royal Highness you have a fine eye for art." She blushes at your compliment, twisting some of her low hanging hair. You keep your amusement of her flustering to yourself, eyes trained on the swirling colors of the rippling blue mirror of the sky, looking for a signature. 

Odd, there isn't a looping set of initials in the corner like most have. As if reading it on your face she speaks. 

"I- I am the artist…" It is shy and soft, unlike the Princess and you realize the weight of the truth. That she had not heard one genuine compliment of anything that she had ever done. 

All she would ever receive is flattery and only for the hopes of kindness from the Crown. Finally time swallows up her sudden meekness as she blurts out.  

"Are you sure Lord Bakugou is not in love with you? I know you fancy Lord Todoroki, Doctor Shoto." 

"I do not fancy the Doctor, he simply is the most logical option I have currently, he would make a fine partner and husband. The seasons have not brought anyone new and my days of spring are limited." You idly move to the next painting as you speak, "As far as Lord Bakugou, he and I are too much alike. Too ambitious for our own good, we'd either explode or implode I'm afraid. Like some tragic star in the vast galaxy." 

"You would not marry for love?"  

"It is best to marry for a strong partnership, love is a possible byproduct, however it proves to be a rarity. Love comes with time, your Royal  Highness, a luxury us women do not have." You glance her way, "Not even a Princess is immune to this unfortunate condition from which all women suffer." 

"But he looks at you with intense burning, with...love." 

A quiet moment passes between the two of you before you offer your honesty. 

"He would learn to look at you that way, more than he would see the Crown. Especially with your mind and artistic skill. He would be a fool not to fall for you." Her eyes water at your response, "Come, let me teach you how to best Bakugou at his favorite card game, Amelia."  

When you return home later that afternoon Bakugou is fidgeting outside of the manor causing your brow to furrow. Then it dawns on you that one of your brother's has a big mouth and told his Grace where you would be. 

"My Lord." 

"Starlight." He offers you a strong arm and you take it as he guides you up the stairs and into the parlor just off the foyer. 

"Are you here to gossip?" You trust Bakugou enough to go without a chaperone, besides the doors to the parlor are wide open. You sink into your writing chair as he takes his normal seat by your side. The plush cushions do not ease his twitching fingers before you give him a playful shove. 

"Out with it then!" You giggle, the sound pulls a devilish smirk from the blonde seemingly easing whatever troubled his mind. He leans back into the cushions. 

"So, how much did her Highness speak of me? Endless compliments no doubt." His teeth flash white as you roll your eyes. 

"And here I thought you had a pressing matter." You move to turn away from him to focus on writing but he grabs onto your knee. Giving it a gentle squeeze as his face gives him away. The tips of his ears burn before he clears his throat. 

"I have to show you something and I need your honest opinion." Silence is his answer as you patiently wait for him to produce the mystery item. Slowly he reaches into his pocket, a black velvet box is in his hands. A smile blooms on your lips as you anticipate the ring he must have picked for the princess. He opens the box and your heart free falls into your stomach. 

It is a pear shaped black diamond flanked by silvery diamonds that wink in the afternoon sun. At the top of the circle of diamonds was a deep red garnet that looked like a drop of blood. The ring felt powerful if it could make one feel such a thing. You fist your skirts as you collect yourself.  He watches your face contort as you look over the ring, his jaw ticking with worry as you assess what is essentially both his ego and pride. 

But the ring is breathtaking, perfect really. 

"Katsuki, it is a gorgeous ring…" Your voice trails as you admire it, "But I believe the princess to have less...moody tastes. She does not normally wear dark colors." 

A small silence stretches between the two of you, almost as if he expects something else, quickly he snaps the box shut. 

"This is why I ask you things, my stunning Starlight." He pulls out a red velvet box popping it open. This ring is beautiful as well but does not have your heart as much as the first. 

It is a stunning and giant marquise cut white diamond. Blinding in the light with a halo of pale pink diamonds. It is vibrant, radiant like the princess. Katsuki always did pick out the perfect jewelry to match a woman's tastes. Bakugou watches your face carefully, the sad smile that pulls your lips upward causes a deep ache in his chest. His jaw ticks again but you answer before he can even think to lash out. 

"Your Grace, this will surely win her heart." He looks you in your eyes, a flash of an emotion you cannot quite catch before his arrogance returns. 

"Indeed it shall. We can discuss the best date to ask another time." He closes the box and tucks them both away, he grabs your left hand, fingers ghosting over the bracelet he gave you, "You seem tired, you should get some rest." 

"I believe that to be a grand idea." You say softly as he kisses each knuckle. He squeezes your fingers. 

"My life would be dark without you my Starlight." You fight to keep the bitterness out of your voice as you reply. 

"Soon you will have a shining diamond to light up your life." 

"Only thanks to you." With that he takes his leave. 

With burning eyes you add to your manuscript, foolishly writing a love story as your other novels have been completed. The candle dwindles as the hours pass before your hunched shoulders ache from the poor posture and lack of movement. You stretch, yawning as you do before you decide to head to bed. 

Expecting an empty foyer you are surprised to see your father looming in the hall, your mother standing solemn by his side. Her fingers clutch at her pearls as your eyes catch sight of bags at their feet. It is not unusual for them to leave in the middle of the night in order to keep the severity of your mother's health from the limelight. 

"Is there troubling news?" Anxiety twitches in your fingers as you clasp them together. Although your father's next words make your fingers want to wrap around his thick neck. 

"We have been invited for an extended stay at Duke Enji's manner in the countryside in hopes the two of you will court one another." 

"Father that is scandalous in itself." 

"Not if an engagement comes of it. Which one will, whether you fall for him or not, young lady. The matter has been decided among the men." His words sting like a slap in the face. Where most would cry you lash out. 

"Oh, I get it. Per usual the men can think with nothing more than what hangs between their legs, fearful that theirs is not long enough. So the men do all that they can to control everything but their own fragility." You step towards your father and he takes a step back, "Or is it more gruesome than that? One blackmailing the other? I just cannot imagine the ambitious Duke wanting a Baron's daughter for his son. Unless his family is so far in decline he must place the weight on his new heir and bride." 

His eyes widen unnaturally before he is frothing at the mouth. 

"YOU WILL NOT SPEAK OUT OF TURN. YOU WILL LEARN YOUR DAMN PLACE. " He slaps you, causing a hush to fall over your family. Your eyes are wide with animalistic rage as you lunge only for Hendrix and Hideki to hold you back. Both strong men begin dragging you away.

"Forgive her, Father." Hendrix starts before Hideki finishes, "You know how the heat gives women a touch of hysteria."

"We will help her pack her bags." 

All the while your mother looks at her husband in horror.  The sight falls beneath the stairs before you are shoved onto your bed. 

"Sister!" Hendrix roars while the youngest brother looks flustered, worried, "What were you thinking? You know how closed minded father is." 

Hideki cuts the eldest a look before he adds. 

"We are just worried. Normally you keep your wrath at bay." 

"As much as it may come as a surprise. I am only human." You rise from the bed asking Rose to prepare you a trunk. To pack anything, that you did not care as you sat at your desk furiously writing. Your bothers watch you with curious eyes as the tension seems to subside before they take their leave.

Minutes tick by before you're standing in the foyer. Father and mother were already sitting in the carriage that waited outside under the cover of misty rain. Hendrix and Hideki stand awkwardly by the round table in the middle of the foyer. Pretending to fuss over lavish flowers Lord Bakugou had sent that morning. A beautiful arrangement of roses and hydrangeas, two of your favorites, the Lord knew of them through observation alone. You wait patiently until one brother makes eye contact with you. Hideki breaks first, guilt shining in his eyes as it threatens to spill over. It is obvious he does not want you to leave the house, his normally crooked smile falters. You cup his cheek, smiling up at your sentimental younger brother, he acts as if you will never come back. 

Maybe there is some truth in that. 

"Cry not, for I have an iron will while father's is but made of glass." You swipe the tear, before pressing two letters into his chest, "Besides I have an important task for you." 

"Is it your scheming?" Hendrix chides and you laugh in answer before continuing. 

"These are for Lord Bakugou and Lord Kirishima, it is imperative you deliver these letters." The paper contained important instructions for not only a successful proposal but a marriage as well. 

You'd be damned if all three of you would turn out miserable. 

"I'll put them in the post." 

"No hand deliver them." Your eyes turn icy causing both brothers to go rigid, "And should I find out the seal has been broken before their arrival I shall take the family jewels from between your legs."

"Is that any way for a lady to talk, my dearest sister?" A jest in an attempt to lighten your souring mood. 

"Yes, it is."

"They will be in their hands by this evening. We are wagering on a fight tonight. Enjoy your stay." Hideki leans in close with a tease but his voice almost cracks, "Make sure the rock is huge." 

"Indeed." Hendrix agrees with an almost sad look in his eye, leaving you to wonder what it is that they know and you do not. 

Well, you do know why they have such long faces, you just do not care to admit. You wave to them and their eyes catch on the silvery reflection of diamonds on your wrist. 

The manner is stifling to say the least. The large, grand thing is as your trunk is set in your room that overlooks a small garden and the long sweeping hill that leads home. You pace your room before a knock comes at your door. 

Hoping to ignore it, having not the desire to speak to a soul, your feet quiet. You listen for them to retreat but instead a louder knock sounds out. Before his grating voice floats from beneath the door and through the keyhole. 

"I know you are in there, my lady." 

Ugh, that stupid doctor stood on the other side of the door. Still you ignore him. 

"It is rude to ignore your host."  It ignites something in your stomach before you rip the door open. Eyes ablaze as Todoroki stands perfectly still in his onyx black suit sans jacket. White sleeves rolled up showcasing his strong forearms. 

"Surely, a good host would not force his guests to his estate?" 

"A good host would not mention how unwanted their guest is." His smile is sickeningly polite, eyes as cold as yours. It is hard to keep your composure as you breathe in deeply through your nose, eyes widening before you slam the door in his face. 

Only once you hear his footfalls retreat and the moon shines long on your floor boards do you finally make your way towards the door. A woman on a mission as you yank the door open, uncaring that you were not in much but a thick white nightgown that could be mistaken for a dress.  You rush for the stairs and through the door just off their back parlor, having memorized it from the long winded tour both your father and his Grace Enji insisted the small party take of the grounds. 

A cool summer breeze whips your hair this way and that as it dries the sweat that sits at your nape. Normally people would describe this feeling as miserable, that even the breeze had a bit of heat to it, but you. 

You lived for it. Twirling in the moonlight you allow yourself a moment for vulnerability you often cannot afford before you go deeper on the grounds, closer to the woods that lie just beyond the manor. 

Once you are at the edge you give the grand home a glare with your back towards the woods. The creatures of the night sing their symphonies well into the late hour. A twig snaps behind you cause you to turn about face, your eyes meet with lavender framed beneath light lashes. 

Ice runs through your blood as you faintly recall him speaking of these trees by his own countryside manor. He often went to these grounds to hunt. 

So why was he standing on the Todoroki grounds? 

"So it is true?" Monoma chokes out an ugly sound. It is between defeat and a snarl. He takes a step closer, "Whisked away in the night. Did Todoroki steal your maiden head from me?" 

Your eyes widen at his scandalous accusation and it is then you see how truly disheveled he is. Hair plastered to his forehead, his canary suit stained green from foliage. The fabric even darkening beneath his armpits and at his collar, it sends a sort of frantic look to his eye. He steps forward and for once in your life you yield, stepping back. 

"That is a damning accusation." You fight to keep the cracking rage from your voice, the small fear that blooms in your belly like poison nightshade. Swallowing thickly he steps forward. 

"He, he can't take what's mine. I- I was going to propose today. But that damn Bakugou is always lingering around like toxic gas. Poisoning your mind with his….ambitions." It is then you see red. 

How dare anyone thing you were so fucking fragile and innocent some young blonde could corrupt you. Your palm strikes his cheek with enough force that he is facing away from you. You strike again and then as you rear up your fist he pulls you to him. Pressing his whisky soaked lips to yours as he swallows you whole. Mouth extended over your lips, sloppily engulfing you as he makes sounds that make you want to retch. His tongue slides past your lips and you bite.

Not enough that he loses it, although you wish you could afford to do such a thing. But you still lived in a society where a man's word was far more valuable than that of a "whore." Shaking you pull back, so much rage that you do not see the flash of light until it is too late. 

"Fucking bitch!" He slashes at your nightgown, cutting the fabric away as you think you've doged, he goes to slash again, "God damn whore!" 

His voice echoes through the trees and that scares you more than the knife in his hand, his sloppy demnor creates an opening as you kick him so hard between his legs he falls to the ground, puking up his belly full of liquor onto the moss floor. 

Suddenly the summer night is too hot, the frogs and crickets too loud as an owl calls deep within the wood. Thunder roars overhead before the clouds become too heavy. Panic slicks your skin before the pounding rain as you turn to run, hopping you kicked hard enough to rupture something in this cowardly man. 

If you lived in any other world, you would have tried your best to seize that knife and plunge it into his chest. 

But you didn't, so you ran. Vision blurring as the pain finally catches up to you. Hand instinctively flying to your stomach only to come up wet. 

"It's the rain, it's just the rain." You gasp out rushing into the house and shutting the glass paned door as quickly and quietly as you can. Fumbling for a lock before you give up all together, arms outstretched in the dim room looking for a candle or a mirror. Shaking fingers find a match that you light using the wallpaper, uncaring of the risks as you frantically look for a stick of wax. Lighting the wick once you've found one and taking it to the mirror above a small runner table. You set the wax down, close to the glass, thunder shakes the windows and the house as you pull the fabric from your torso. It reveals an angry red slash that weeps crimson, a choked gasp leaves your lips as lightning flashes illuminating the whole room. Still you do not see the reflection of the man in the mirror. 

"What happened?" It sounds animalistic as it comes from the corner. Your whirl to face him, pulling the cloth back down to cover your decency. A lie falls from your lips as easy as breath. 

"Nothing." Your rasp, feigning embarrassment, "My-my courses have come early. Your Grace this is not something you should witness." 

"Do you take me for a fool?" He steps closer, eyes burning in the candle light, "I may not be an expert of female anatomy but I know the basics." 

You swallow thickly, trying to jest. 

"Then my Lord you are far more experienced than myself. I am bashful to be in the presence of a skilled womanizer. This truly is nothing." He closes the distance, wrapping his deadly hand around your small wrist. Pulling it away from your body.

"That laceration does not look like 'nothing'." He mocks, "I will not ask again." 

Silence engulfs you as the storm rages on, it competes with the roaring in your head. Your knees slowly buckle as Shoto keeps you up right. His winter's night by the hearth scent floods your senses. 

"I feel a bit faint." Your voice sounds so small, so far away that it stirs something in Todoroki. In the year that he has watched you, he has not once seen your falter or become meek. He makes way to scoop you into your arms and is a mixed of relieved and agitated as you swat him away. 

"I-I can walk." You straighten your back, smoothing the reddening fabric over your bodess and for once you're thankful the blasted nightgown is so thick. He gently guides you to your room. 

Once there he prepares a basin as you try to sit on the plush bed. 

"Aht!" He whispers harshly, "Change." 

You relax into the foot of the bed anyway, unable to hold yourself up right any longer. He sucks his teeth, bringing the supplies to the bedside table before searching through your trunk. 

"A Lady's things should not just be rummaged through." 

"Hmm is that so?" He finds another night gown before he hovers over you, face pinched as he asks, "Can you undress yourself, truthfully?"

Moments pass before you admit that you are not sure that you can with a shake of your head. Slowly he eases you out of the damp fabric, dabbing at your wet skin with a towel. He avoids looking at your breasts and as much as he would love to stare a weeping wound commands his attention. He places the gown just enough to hide your breasts before he lies you down on your back. 

"From beginning to end, tell me what happened." When you do not answer he forces your chin to face him, "Tell me, now." 

And your name slips off his lips like poisoned honey, a truth serum you swallow whole. You retell the quick exchange, including the damning kiss as you watch rage blister across Shoto's handsome features as he silently begins to work. 

"We must  prosecute him."

"We must not!" You exclaim as he dabs antiseptic at your wound. He gives your an exasperated

"What would have happened if he had nicked an internal organ?"

"I suppose I would be free of this wretched world." A nonchalant shrug as best as you can manage.a glare cuts your way as his roar turns soft.   

"Why would you say such a thing? Do you think no one would mourn the loss of you? Do you think he would not weep at your service?" Shoto touches the bracelet of dancing stars and you pull your wrist back. Tears burning your eyes, you do not allow them to fall. 

"He is not up for discussion!" It's a loud whisper before you grip Shoto's jaw with enough force it grinds, "I am more than capable of taking care of myself, Lord. You can take your leave as I do not need a soul."

He melts as he watches the pain flutter in your eyes, a long sigh escapes him as he melts into your touch. His fingers feathering over your forearm.

"Pride is a deadly sin. Allow me to help. I will be quick." Slowly you drop your arm away from him. He digs around in his bag before you change your mind. He disinfects the sutures before he sends the needle through tender flesh, your tears dry as you allow your mind to retreat. Shoto takes quick notice. 

"You do that a lot…" He comments softly, pulling the suture through your skin, you glance his way, "You seem to disassociate." 

"Well, feelings hurt so it is better to not feel at all." You grind your teeth as he pulls the widest part of your wound together. 

"Is that why you push him away so often?" He holds your gaze before returning to his work.

"Did I not tell you that he is not up for discussion. No matter, I do not have feelings for Lord Bakugou." He scoffs at your lie. 

"Ah so then it was not you who suggested the Princess in the form of flattery? Lord Bakugou is a smart man but you played into his blind spot, stroking his ego and enticing his ambition." Your gritted teeth say it all. 

"And how pray tell would you even guess at such grandor things when you are not in attendance at even half of these events?"

"I am privy to this knowledge because I too keep everyone and everything at arm's length. It is much easier to see the moves when one is far enough away from the board." He dabs at your abdomen, "And you my Lady are by far the best player." 

"Flattery does not go far with me." You sigh softly,  fingers idly playing with the wrinkles in the sheets,  "Father wants me to set a final round."

"Mine wishes for me to begin and end in the same turn." He slowly places your nightgown down, "Which is why we should make an effort to at least get to know one another. With your wound I suggest staying an extra week or two to ensure it closes properly. I can convince our Wardens that the extension is for an attempt to win your hand."

He leans back in his chair, sweat on his brow from fusing with your wound, from worry as it furrows. Your chest tightens and suddenly the urge to be in control sinks its teeth into your skin. Quickly you unclasp the birthday present Lord Katsuki had given you, setting it on the nightstand beside Shoto with dramatic flare. His eyes widen as he reads between the lines, the silent vow of "I will make an effort...for now". The promise seems to pierce his heart. 

"Fine. I enjoy picnics, I suggest we do that on the grounds so that we may be chaperoned from afar and yet have privacy. My expectation is unbashful honesty from both parties." You turn over to give him your back as you pull the fine blankets to your shoulders, "Furthermore you must come up with some sort  of endearment for me. Anyone who has ever tried to seriously court me has. I have come quite fond of them as titles bore me. Something lovely so give it thought."

Shoto is stunned into silence for a moment before he lets out a dark laugh. 

"I see, this is still your game"

"Precisely." You say, he stands, lingering in the doorway before shutting the heavy oak. 

It was difficult to sleep to say the least. Still you were grateful to have risen before Rose. Dressing yourself before she could see your wound. More grateful still when Rose set down some tea claiming Lord Shoto sent it.  

You downed the scalding liquid in three swallows, surprising Rose, before she passes you a folded note. 

Meet me in the back garden for lunch. 

-Shoto 

A muscle ticks in your jaw as pain blooms across your stomach as you stare at his lovely script. 

Shoto hates to admit that the first thing he looks for is that bracelet on your wrist, when he does not see it he lets out his held breath. Drinking in your deep, sapphire dress. It sparkles as if covered in stardust, his heart clenches. He looks towards your stomach, worry etched on his features. 

"How are your stitches? No corset right?" He asks, gently guiding you to the plush pillows on the ground. Maybe he should have asked the butler to bring out chairs instead. 

"I feel naked without it." You admit, he sees a bit of nervousness you have normally schooled away. 

"You look lovely." His eyes are gentle, lips formed in a soft, genuine smile. Your heart tried to skip a beat. It's the heat you tell yourself. 

"Flattery will not get you far remember?"

"I'm only being honest, my sweet petunia." You give him a puzzled look, was this going to be his nickname for you? You were not a delicate thing. 

"A flower?" You give him a look but his smile does not falter. 

"Ah would you rather I say my dew kissed rose? My begonia?"

You both laugh at his last suggestion. 

"My sunflower." Your heart stutters, you glance away for just a moment and he takes notice. 

"Ah so you approve," He collects a strand of your hair between his fingertips, "Sunflower?" 

Heat rushes your cheeks as you fight the smile on your lips. You lose as he kisses your hair. Maybe you could be a delicate thing. 

"Did you know sunflowers can remediate soil? It is why they are planted after tobacco is harvested in hopes to use the fields once more." He is quiet as he waits for your admission. 

"It is my favorite flower, it is in season now. Alas not one suitor has sent them. Roses and hydrangeas are my favorites too but nothing quite says summer like a sunflower." You sigh, looking over the manicured bushes and flowers in the garden. 

"Is that your favorite season?" He is perceptive, you take  a moment to breathe in the sweltering breeze with closed eyes. Humming your answer. 

"Indeed." You kick off your shoes and place your feet into the grass, leaning back to allow your face in the sun. Not many women would be so open to sitting on only a blanket and with no umbrella or covering. And yet here you were soaking up the sun like a lazy cat. Heat rushes Shoto's cheeks as he realizes just how perfect his name for you is. 

"Have you ever had intercourse with a woman?" You ask, eyes still closed as Shoto flushes further. His cheeks are as red as part of his hair. 

"Sunflower." He gasps but you giggle. 

"Unbashful honesty, remember?" He lets small silence stretch between the two of you before he answers. 

"I have. My brother convinced me it was a good idea." His eyes look sad, it makes your gut clench as you look away for a moment. Question burning on your tongue. 

"What if I were to say my maiden head was taken?" 

"Who am I to judge after I have slept with another. Sadly I know some are stolen." He answers without hesitation. 

"This is true. Mine is still intact, I am grateful Monoma had only stolen a kiss." You sigh.

"You'd never kissed anyone?" His tone is curious although his eyes are dark with anger for you. 

"I tried to be a proper lady. More so because I do not like to touch people or feel their skin. Touching them makes them real, you know? And when someone is real they can have power over your heart." Shoto mulls over your words and realizes how much he relates. He places his hands near your fingers but does not touch them. You notice the gesture and scoff without the pretension you skillfully lace his fingers with his. Delighted to see the burning blush on his cheeks. 

Maybe life with Shoto would not be half bad, if only he gave you more moments like this. 

Moments like this last over the two weeks that drag into three. Days are spent  beneath the summer sun with exchanged and often heated, intellectual debates. Both of you feeling mentally stimulated for the first time as each of you allowed a few walls to come down, pulling each other closer than arm's length. While a few hours of the night are spent beneath the moon. His gem stone eyes raking over your abdomen in worry but nothing more than his checking on your wound as he was ever the gentlemen.

On Monday of the second week Shoto has come fond of his summer sunflower, so much so he brings a large black box to the next picnic, tucked away in his pocket is a matching, much smaller box. He presents to you the medium sized box as you giggle in delight. 

"My Lord, my shining Shoto. What could this be?" Your cheeks hurt from the width of your smile as he opens the box for you to see. Your face flutters into shock before joy returns as you hold out your wrist. Shoto takes the delicate golden bracelet that has several round onyx surrounded by citrine in the shape of petals. Sunflowers dance on your wrist as you twist it this way and that, unable to school your features into your normal distaste for guadry gifts from suitors. But this gift was far from gaudy, only one man before Shoto had earned this reaction. You bring your parasol to hide your face and his from the prying eyes of the manor as you gently press your lips to Shoto's cheeks. 

"I love it." You admit. It gives him enough courage to commit to ask you on Friday, the bigger question. 

Having you walk for "therapy" through the grounds, pointing over your shoulder to point out phantom ducks on the lake as he nervously sinks to one knee. 

"Shoto, love I do not see-" You turn to face him and see his loving eyes, wavering smile and shaking fingers holding open the box that reveals a giant oval ruby surrounded by diamonds.  He clears his throat. 

"My sunflower," You fling your arms around him, making him fall off balance as you land on top of him. Peppering his face with uncharacteristic kisses as excitement, for once, rushes through your veins like a second blood. He laughs lifting you by your ribs, careful of your slowly closing wound as he spins you before setting you on your feet. He fumbles for the momentarily forgotten ring before he slips it onto your ring finger. He presses a kiss to your cheek, smiling warmly. It reaches his eyes in such a way your gut clenches. 

And for a moment you forgot you were ever anyone's starlight. 

For one returning to the manor seems almost dreadful and not because of waiting suitors but because you would be without your own. He insisted the two of you be seperate as your mother and his, prepared to arrange the wedding, as you demanded the ceremony to be small. Despite your desire for to keep the engagement quiet for just a week or so, your mother and father took it upon themselves to spread word back home before you could even arrive. 

You exit the carriage as the house looks quiet, earning a soft smile. Your ring catches your eye and you remind yourself that this truly was the best possible outcome. 

The foyer is covered in flowers, from congratulations to a giant trove of sunflowers on the center table. 

You smile at the flowers Shoto must have sent this morning, they sit in a glass globe of a vase, their usually tall stems cut short. Their flower heads are large and vibrant even in the ambient candle light. You finger a petal as you reminisce over the past few weeks, your stomach hardly protesting as you stand on tip toe to look at them all. Relishing the moment of silence before you realize you are most likely home alone. Your brothers lost in some fighting match while your parents took their leave from the Todoroki manor to busy themselves with venues. You figured a change of clothes would do you nicely before you settled down over your much neglected work. 

A black nightgown and almost sheer robe clung to your frame as you stepped down the grand staircase, smiling once more at the flowers before slipping into your parlor. Lighting only one other candle by the door before taking yours to your desk. With deft hands you pull out one of your manuscripts and tap along the top with a manicured nail. A sigh leaves your lips, you finger with your bracelet, with the ring on your finger before a fresh page is found on your desk. You write furiously. 

About something as trivial as love. 

Still the quil seems to move on its own as if enchanted as words dot the parchment in ink. Suddenly your work is disturbed by someone entering your parlor. You assume it is a brother who has come home, glancing up you see locks of ash blonde causing you to grip at your robe to close it tighter. The moment you realize it is just Bakugou your grip on the fabric loosens.

"I wasn't expecting you at this hour." Fear of needing a chaperone barely crosses your mind since it was Lord Bakugou who was your company. You relax into your seat as he crosses the room to sit in his normal seat, on the corner of the couch, closest to you. His posture is poor as he leans his forearms on thick thighs, garnet eyes cast downward, he grips at his own hands as his knuckles turn white. You wonder if he did not heed your letter. 

"How did the proposal go with Princess Amelia?" Your voice sounds out over the silence of the room, still he remains quiet. It is unnerving how solemn and silent the normally wolfish man is. Something pulls at the strings of your heart. His eyes seem misty. He keeps them to the ground or so you think, as they rake over the ring on your finger, on the bracelet on your wrist. The onyx and citrine dance in the low light of your burning candle. Bakugou feels a sheen of sweat coat his hands, bile rising in his throat that he has to swallow down. 

You think the worst, you think the Princess rejected him but that didn't make sense either. She was so obviously in love with the ambitious man, you heard while away that she even turned down a dance with a forgein prince. 

"What's wrong, Katsuki?" The way your voice forms around his name, the way your eyes look with unbiased worry causes Katsuki's limbs to act on their own. In one swift motion he cups your face in his broad hands, bringing his lips to yours so softly. Once the plush of your lips touch his he cannot stop as his hunger for you comes to the forefront. He kisses you with a fervor unmatched as his lips move yours, his hand moves to the back of your neck. Tilting your head so he may deepen the kiss, tongue sliding over yours as the world falls from beneath your feet.  

But as quickly as it fell it returns, pushing him away while turning to face away from him. You keep your head held high as he pants on the couch beside you. He grabs your thigh, desperate for touch, for anything but rejection. 

"Starlight." His voice is deep, rough from what might be disuse as it cracks on the second syllable. A question runs rampid in your mind.  How long had he felt like this? 

"Please, my starlight." He squeezes your smooth thigh and you look towards him. Watch his force contort with pain, as if you held his beating heart in his hands and crushed it.  

Really it is what he had done to you, as you look down at him with hot tears. 

He is the first and only soul to see you cry in decades. It seemingly tears him about but he brought this among himself. 

The kiss is answer enough as to why he is here. 

It should not be this tempting to throw it all away. 

"Get. Out." You seethe, fat droplets catching on your sheer robe, falling down your cheeks as if you were an actress going through a tragic scene. He does not move, does not breathe as he hopes your temper will cool. 

Instead it heats. 

"Get out, Get OUT. GET OUT GET OUT!!" More composure lost with each increase of volume before you completely lose it, "FUCKING GET OUT!" 

He hardly moves and the ruckus calls alarm for your brothers who were home, who let Bakugou in at such a late hour. They come from the office across the hall in hurried steps, expecting to see an assailant, hoping that Bakugou could fight them off. 

They silently determine what they see is far worse. Bakugou gripping at your thighs with this pleading look while your face is now firmly buried in your hands. A sob racks through your body setting your brothers ablaze. 

Hendrix speaks first. 

"What did you do?!" His eyes are flaming as he sets them on Bakugou, who ignores the two men. Hideki begins to close the distance and his eldest brother follows suit. 

"What have you done to make my lovely sister cry?" Hideki's voice is full of hurt, disappointment and when they receive no answer they decide it is time to remove your true assailant. 

Both grab at Bakugou, pulling him away from the couch as you wet your palms with years worth of tears. 

Everything in your life, no matter how hard you tried to conduct it, was truly wrong wasn't it? 

The fresh swirling ink on the pages answered you enough, the love story you did not know you needed with a protagonist with soft ash blonde hair. 

"Please. Do not make me BEG!" He yells as your brothers' sad attempt at forcing him from the room topples furniture and the like. 

Still you weep your self pity away. 

His next words are deafening  as your heart finally cleaves apart, the pieces falling to the floor before shattering like glass at your feet. He brandishes the black velvet box with the black diamond ring tucked inside as you finally look up to him. 

"IT HAS ALWAYS BEEN YOU, STARLIGHT!"

#bakugou x reader #todoroki x reader #bnha historical au #bnha imagine #bnha x reader

[amporella]

I don’t want to cause anymore drama/discourse or talk bad about anyone, but it always rubbed me the wrong way how that person (as well as some of the fandom) says making Kyle at all feminine is antisemitic. I’m Jewish and a trans boy, and like Kyle I have many interests that are seen as “masculine” (sports, basketball being one that we share) but I could be described as feminine in a lot of ways too, and it has nothing to do with me being Jewish. I don’t even get where that comes from. Maybe I’ve missed something but I’ve never seen “Kyle is feminine because he’s a Jew” anywhere. He has some characteristics that could be put in the “feminine” category for sure, but being Jewish is not one of them.

Anon, don't feel bad about giving your opinion on this! Being Jewish gives you a really unique perspective on this issue, and not one you should be ashamed about expressing. <3

Warning that the following is my take on the issue, and as I’m not Jewish, feel free to take it with a grain of salt.

I've been on SP Tumblr for a few years now, and I never actually realized feminine Kyle could be perceived as anti semitic until really recently. I mean, people have been complaining about people portraying Kyle as feminine/showcasing his feminine traits since the dawn of this fandom, but nobody ever brought him being Jewish into the argument until very recently (or maybe I only just saw it recently, because I was too busy in 2016 nostalgia rabbit holes before then lol).

I believe the main reason people started to connect feminine Kyle and him being Jewish came from the "nice Jewish boy" stereotype - a media stereotype of Jewish men that typically portrayed them as submissive, nebbish, etc. So people in the fandom thought 'ah, clearly some depictions of Kyle being feminine in fanfic/fanart must be a result of subconscious (or in some cases conscious) antisemitism!' And to be fair, I guess I can see where they're coming from? The issue is that theory really fails to address the fundamental tenets of fandom - that is, that fandom as a whole exacerbates personality traits.

There's a reason bad boy Craig was so popular in fandom at one point - because that's the kind of shit that fandom just eats up. Same with Tweek being unable to function without Craig's help. Craig being stoic and a little edgy are traits he has in canon, and Tweek's also anxious and soothed by Craig in canon, so it's natural that fandom is going to dial those traits up. That's how fandom has been since the dawn of time. Which makes it really difficult to look at Kyle's portrayal and call it anything other than fandom seeing this booksmart, validation-hungry character and dialing a few of those traits up to make him a nerd who needs Stan's approval. And yeah, some fanfics and fanart definitely dial up the 'feminine' aspects to put him in a dress, etc, but I've also seen plenty of feminine Stans in my time here. And besides; if the intention isn't heteronormativity, there really isn't anything wrong with putting a guy in a dress. Go wild. Put all the characters in dresses! If I could draw it'd be over for you guys.

I think another one of my own issues with that person's claims are that short Kyle is antisemitic, or that Kyle being a submissive bottom in fics is antisemitic - to which my responses are before Post-Covid was released, Kyle had the most canonical evidence for being short, and to the second point; positioning and behavior in bed isn't a political statement. Unless someone in fanfiction directly connects Kyle's positioning in bed to him being Jewish, it's pretty unreasonable to assume that has anything to do with it.

Anyway, if it wasn't clear, I completely agree with you anon. I really don't think there's a ton of ground to stand on when it comes to connecting Kyle's femininity in fandom to his Jewishness, if only because so many other characters are given the same treatment. I'm not Jewish, so my opinion on this doesn't solely stand, but I've also seen similar sentiments from Jewish authors/artists - I've seen short Kyles, I've seen sexually submissive Kyles, I've seen feminine Kyles and I've seen Kyles whose 'feminine' personality traits are on full display. Kyle being any of those (feminine, submissive, short, etc) being antisemitic just isn't a consensus among the Jewish people in this fandom, and I've even seen one say that the concept of calling some of those traits antisemitic in itself trivializes the violence that Jewish people go through. I can't say on my own that the 'feminine Kyle is antisemitic' claim is false because I don't have personal experience with that stereotype, but seeing as the majority of Jewish people in this fandom seem to disagree with it, I'm going to err on the side of caution and say there isn't enough evidence to back it up.

You're right, anon, and I appreciate hearing your opinion! There are plenty of points to be made about this fandom emphasizing femininity in some of the characters, but I don't think that's a reasonable one.

#south park #kyle broflovski #discourse #thank you for the ask anon!! #i'm always interested in hearing people's takes #lol i'm like the confessions blog 2.0 #but i welcome discourse #anyway i'm reiterating someone else's thoughts on this point but #if you're not affected #take into account people who are and weigh your opinion accordingly #and obviously don't send hate to the person that anon was referring to #they have their takes and i have mine #and that's ok! #tumblr is about to arrest me for banned words crimes

[ordinaryschmuck]

What I Thought About "Hunting Palismans" From The Owl House

Salutations, random people on the internet who certainly won’t read this! I am an Ordinary Schmuck. I write stories and reviews and draw comics and cartoons.

Today, I present to you reason #4,693 for why The Owl House is the best thing at the moment: It's the perfect balance of serialized storytelling with an episodic format. The story always moves forward with an exact order for how episodes should be watched, but each episode still functions as its own standalone tale. Having prior knowledge of what happened before adds more to the experience, but you can still watch whatever you want and still have an enjoyable time. Take "Hunting Palismans," for example. It adds so much more to the overarching narrative while slightly continuing other threads. But it's still something you can watch as is without remembering the past or wondering about the future.

However, to properly explain how requires spoilers. I wasn't kidding when I say that this episode adds so much, so you're going to want to be wary of that when you continue reading.

With that said, let's review, shall we?

WHAT I LIKED

Coven Heads Meeting: We already saw these fellow schmucks in the trailer, but that doesn't take away how cool they are! It's not explicitly stated which head belongs to which coven, but you can already tell who goes where just from their designs alone. And I love that. I love that just by showing us some excellent character designs, anybody with half a brain can already figure out the particular type of magic each Coven Head specializes in. It's a perfect example of the show-don't-tell level of storytelling that is always at its best through animation, and I'm all for it because of it.

What the Day of Unity is: Several fans, myself included, have already speculated that the Day of Unity was that Emperor Belos planned to combine the human world with the Boiling Isles and rule it all with an iron fist. That being said, figuring it out is one thing, but being told that it's true is a whole different level pants-s**ting horror that I AM NOT READY FOR! Even when it's going to happen, I can assure you that I will not be prepared to witness it ...and I am scared of when it does.

Belos Body Horror: ...Disney, I was already scared s**tless of this guy. I DO NOT NEED THIS!

That being said, seeing Belos do...whatever the f**k that was, helps explain further why he needs the magic in palismans. I always assumed because it's like fuel for a car, giving him the power he needs. Now, even though the answer is more apparent, there are still some questions to be had. Is he cursed, and the magic keeps it at bay like Eda's potions? Or did he experiment with the wrong type of magic, and the palismans keep him stable? Only the future can say for sure...and I'm also not prepared for the answers from that either.

Golden Guard is Belos’ Nephew: Gosh dangit, THE INTRO HASN'T EVEN STARTED YET, AND THIS EPISODE IS ALREADY GIVING SO MUCH!

But, yeah, the most powerful witch on the Isles is apparently Golden Boy's Grunkle Belos. That very knowledge is incredibly interesting to discuss while presenting possibilities for future narratives. I don't know about you, but I see the Golden Guard going down the path of Zuko, learning that the magic of friendship is worth much more than whatever power he gains from being Belos' nephew. And possibly earning his uncle's love seeing how he's the only family he has. It's a situation that's vastly different from Amity's because even when she defies her parents, she'll still have Edric and Emira at the end of the day. For Golden Guard, knowing that he lost a great family to wild magic, the inclination to go against Belos is a lot weaker due to him being all he has left.

Oh, and also, Belos' family getting wiped out because of wild magic. Yeah, not only does that give the best type of motivation for Belos' distaste for it, but it also explains the Golden Guard's hesitance to use it. He's inclined to so he can save his uncle, sure. It's only the fact that he knows what happens with wild magic that causes some resistance...Also, we're less than a minute in, and I'm already getting all of this from one discussion between two characters.

HOW IS THIS SHOW SO GOOD?!

Intro Changes: It's about time too. It seems weird that the crew waited to change Eda and King's designs in the intro this late in the game, but it also tells me that Amity dying her hair lavender is the last huge change this season will present. Otherwise, why change the intro at all if you were going to alter Luz, Willow, and Gus' designs anyway? It just doesn't make sense to me.

Luz Keeping the Echo Mouse as a Pet: The fact that she keeps the most important creature in the world to her as a pet...it's...it's adorable, alright? And as we established several times, I cannot hate adorable things.

Don't judge me!

Amity Staying Home: There are two plausible ways why Amity didn't go to school that day. Either she's getting punished for dying her hair or because she's trying to avoid Luz so they won't talk about the you-know-what. Either could work and seem understandable to Luz, thus explaining why she admits how "that makes sense." Although, there is something to discuss in how Luz is curious as to where Amity is. Judging from the tone of her voice, it's pretty clear that she wants to talk about the little peck on the cheek and maybe get some confirmation as to what it means. Because there is no going back from that. You can explain away saying or doing something stupid, but you cannot un-kiss a cheek. That is a point of no return, and if Amity really is avoiding Luz because of it, that means it's up to our favorite weirdo to make the first move. As for what that may entail...we'll just have to wait and see.

Frewin: We get two bits of information here for the price of one reveal here. Knowing that Frewin is a palisman is shocking enough, but the knowledge that Bump is partially blind and needs Frewin to see? That is an intriguing piece of intel that I would have never expected to get revealed. This is reason #5,279 for what makes The Owl House so good. Even when the show presents information you wouldn't guess, it's all so interesting anyways that you can't help but go along with it.

Adopting Palismans: First of all, love the fact that the Bat Queen makes a return to provide a solution to the palisman trees being rare and solving her own problem regarding the discarded palismans. It's a situation where everyone wins in a way that is so clever that I can't help but admire it.

Second, the idea of students choosing to adopt palismans instead is cute. I'd say it gives further insight into who these characters are in how they say what they want to be, but there's nothing really new added that fans couldn't figure out from the get go. But I will say that it's pretty cool to know that these characters have official staffs now. Speaking of which, if you're upset that their palismans don't match up with your headcanons...grow up.

This was a cute and smartly written scene that should not be bogged down by whiney fans who can't accept a series doing something different from what they expect.

Little Rascal: I’d take a bullet for this bird. That is all.

Luz Being Uncertain of her Future: A lot of fans offer several ideas of what the future could look like for Luz. Will she stay in the Boiling Isles? In Connecticut? Or will she go back and forth? We don't know, but one question we rarely brought up is what does Luz want? More specifically, what does she want to do? After everything Luz went through, the adventures she's gone on, and the lessons learned, what is something that Luz wants her future to be? That's an answer she doesn't really figure out, and I'm genuinely ok with that being a question that's tabled for another day. Most kids who ask that question themselves aren't always going to find an answer after a short amount of time and sometimes even need to spend their lives trying to figure it out. So having it be something Luz has to consider and probably find out in a future episode is the smarter option, as it allows time for it to simmer in her own mind and provides more insight into her character. As stated several times in this episode, she doesn't think things through, so it's nice that the writers finally allowed her some time to wonder what's next when the adventure is over.

Luz Having to Improvise Without Paper Glyphs: You want to know what my favorite Spider-Man moments are (this is relevant. Trust me). My favorite moments are when Spidey's web-shooters run out of fluid, and he's forced to improvise with that big brain of his to find a solution. That's sort of what happens with Luz in "Hunting Palismans." She didn't bring her glyphs with her (why would she), so she's forced to use the environment around her to make new ones. Plus, Luz also flexes her knowledge of the Boiling Isles by mixing her glyphs with a magical plant (which Willow certainly told her about) so that she and the Golden Guard could knock out Kikimora's dragon. It's yet another showcase of her intelligence that a lot of fans are too keen to overlook. Unfortunate to see, too, because looking at how well Luz can craft the perfect solutions by fighting smarter, not harder, is a fantastic add-on to her personality. I love characters who win through their wits rather than their raw powers, and I once again hope more people will catch onto that aspect of her too.

Golden Guard Whistling the Theme: Look, I love it when a show acknowledges its own theme song, ok? Leave me alone.

Luz and the Golden Guard: This is one of those dynamics you didn't know you wanted until you have it. And now that I have it, I DEMAND MORE!

Seriously, seeing these two interact off of each other was a ton of fun to watch. When Luz and GG are initially at each other's throats, their threats and mockery towards one another aren't out of spiteful anger between two mortal enemies. It's more like...two siblings who get on each other's nerves yet are supposed to deal with one another. It's equally adorable and hilarious, and yes, I absolutely loved that they're forced to work together in this episode because of it.

Although, while the entertainment value is fantastic, it also adds more proof of why Luz is the best character in the series. She spends one night with this guy, and that's more than what she needed to make a difference with him. I wouldn't go so far as to say that they're buddies now, but Luz definitely sowed the seeds into his redemption. He's far from willing to join her side, but he still does something he rarely does with anyone else: He told her that his name is Hunter. And this is what Luz does. Through nearly every person she meets on the Boiling Isles, she always manages to change them for the better. It'll be a while before Hunter deflects from Belos, but if Amity proves anything, Luz has a way of sneaking into people's hearts. They just need to spend more time with one another, and I can't wait to see what happens next because of it.

Kikimora Wanting to Kill Hunter: This shows a lot about who Kikimora is, but it potentially proves just how dysfunctional the Emperor's Coven can be. If Kiki proves anything, the coven must be filled with people willing to backstab and cheat their way to get on Emperor Belos' good side. Just look at Lilith. She literally cursed her own sister just to get in and received all the rewards because of it. The Emperor's Coven may be the best choice for witches to do magic, but if you're surrounded by people you can't trust, then is it really worth it?

The Guards Not Knowing Who Hunter is: This helps add to how much of a big deal it is for Hunter to reveal his name to Luz. If people can't even recognize his face, there's a chance it means that he keeps his true identity a secret except for those in his inner circle.

And the coven guards brushing off his brand is more than believable to me. They may be aware that Belos' right hand is young, but teens will be teens. Anybody with enough artistic talent can fake a brand. So it isn't too far off for those two to think Hunter was just a kid pulling a prank.

Hunter is Powerless Without his Staff: Not much to say here. It's just some more neat insight into Hunter's character that makes me wonder if even Belos' magic is real magic.

But I will say this: The fact that Hunter comes from a lineage of powerless witches, well, who's to say that isn't because of a...certain ancestor?

(*Cough* Hunter is related to Philip *Cough*)

Hunter vs Kiki: A pretty well-animated fight scene that adds potential drama to the story for the future. Now that Kikimora knows that Hunter helped Luz escape with the palismans (albeit unwillingly), she may or may not hold that over his head when the time comes. Or, at the very least, decides to keep a closer eye on him whenever he makes a slip-up.

Eda and King Getting Luz her own Palisman Wood: These last two weeks have been severely lacking in the Eda and King department, but scenes like this more than make up for it. Those two have formed such a bond with Luz to the point where they would do the impossible if it meant she would feel better. It proves just how much of a family they all are and the lengths they would go for each other. After all, weirdos have to stick together.

Little Rascal going to Hunter: Hunter is right. That was surprising.

Given how much Little Rascal stuck by Luz, I was more than positive that she would be the one he chose. So seeing Little Rascal pick Hunter instead is a much nicer twist. There could be multiple reasons why, and I'm just going to leave that to the analyzers in this fandom to decide. Especially since the answer isn't really all that important.

So, instead, I'm going to go ahead and sit in the corner as I wOrRy AbOuT tHe DaY tHaT bElOs FiNdS lItTlE rAsCal!

IT'S GONNA HAPPEN! AND I SWEAR TO ALL THAT IS HOLY, IF THE WRITERS KILL HIM, I WILL NOT BE HAPPY!

WHAT I DISLIKED

First, there's...um...

Well, there was this...

Ok, as much as I liked--No, that turned out well anyways...

…

...

...I've got nothing.

I, honest to goodness, have no complaints about "Hunting Palismans" Not even the tiniest of nitpicks I would usually ignore due to how well-executed everything else was.

It's all written fantastically to the point where it's...perfect.

IN CONCLUSION

"Hunting Palismans" is an easy A+. It introduces even more plot threads, gives insight into characters, and despite being essential to the story, it still manages to be a fun episode all on its own. And, I'd go so far as to say that it's one of the best, if not the best, episodes in the series. There's nothing bad about it, and that surprises me. I rarely find nothing bad to say about any story, even the ones I enjoy greatly. I'm sure there are some flaws that others would be more than happy to point out, but why bother hunting for the imperfections when I could accept that, for once, an episode is simply perfect.

(And that’s six hits in a row...THAT STINKER IS GOING TO HAPPEN! It hasn’t happened yet, BUT IT’S GOING TO HAPPEN! I CAN FEEL IT!)

#the owl house #the owl house season 2 #the owl house reviews #luz noceda #the golden guard #hunter the owl house #emperor belos #what i thought about

[kit-herondale-carstairs]

TDA Characters on TikTok

Julian: doesn’t post very often because he is a father but when he does it is always him painting or drawing something with lofi music or him sharing a tidbit about one of the children or other family members (Kieran, Cristina, Diana, Emma and Aline included and always with their explicit permission). 

- He’s very popular without even trying and most assume he is a young single father (which isn’t wrong).

-  Mostly finds himself on cottagecore or parent side of tiktok. 

- doesn’t understand all the thirsty comments he gets because “I don’t even show my face, Emma, why would they think I’m attractive?” but always shares them with Emma because they make her laugh.

Emma: Does it for the girls and the gays, that’s it. Posts nearly every day and page is generally a mixture of self defense videos, vintage makeup/dress tutorials, and videos slamming the patriarchy but also always does the latest dancing videos and other trends.

- always tries to get others to join in on her trend videos, mostly joined by Mark and Cristina when she can rope her in.

- Nearly broke tiktok when she got Julian to do the “You could have been nicer to me” trend because NO ONE KNEW THEY WERE DATING  AND EVEN THOUGH THEY COULDN’T SEE HIS FACE EVERYONE RECOGNIZED HIS VOICE AND HE WAS SO SWEET WHEN HE OFFERED TO TAKE HER TO HER FAVORITE THRIFT STORE AND BUY HER SOME DRESSES AFTER HE PUT THE “BABY” DOWN FOR HIS NAP. 

- - everyone knows the “baby” is actually at least seven but no one ever said his name because he’s too young so everyone collectively knows him as “the baby”

- solidly on gay tiktok even though she’s straight. 

Mark: Daily blogs. Everyone thinks he’s shit posting because it’s all wild things like standing in a middle of a circle of flowers and talking about “this pixie named Aelia lives here and she’s a BITCH”. Often shows videos of him cooking or baking wild concoctions that range from “Okay, I’d try that” to “this is why God has abandoned us”. 

- Does dancing videos with Emma all the time and often acts as the “creeper” in her self defense videos. 

- Caused a meltdown on tiktok when he casually mentioned his “partners” and started creating videos to raise awareness for polyamory. 

- Revealed Julian was his brother when he posted a video of Julian yelling at him for a solid minute because “the baby is covered in honey, why is the baby covered in honey, Mark? We don’t let the baby bathe in honey even if he really wants to Mark -” 

- solidly on cooking and gay tiktok, often takes a sharp left into “crackhead” tiktok

Kieran: Posts videos of cats he finds and rates them. The lowest ever was a 9.5/10 because “she bit me fairly hard but I scared her and I deserved it for trying to pet her without permission”. 

- does not do any trends or reveal much personal information. 

- Was always considered wholesome until he (on a dare from Dru) posted a video joking about choking a bossy sub that rounded up on kinktok. 

-- everyone went through a brief freak out trying to figure out if he had a partner but it was never solved. 

--- No one noticed that Mark posted a video joking about how “one of his partners was absolutely in the doghouse” accompanied by someone sitting in a cardboard ‘doghouse’ around the exact same time. 

- solidly on animal tiktok but occasionally veers into kinktok with more (less explicit) dom/sub humor. 

Cristina: Does not have her own tiktok but often appears in videos with Emma and occasionally shows up in Mark’s. 

- Absolute sweetheart always, even when she is demonstrating a self defense move with Emma, and is always commended for trying Mark’s foods. 

-- especially commended when trying the foods while, offscreen, their other partner yells about “Hell food” 

- is flattered with all the comments begging her to start her own tiktok but doesn’t feel like she has the time to fully commit to one properly. 

Livvy: (She’s alive, don’t @ me) Does absolutely all the new trends and also does various acting POVs 

- her soulmate POVs are most popular but she also is known for dueting act-along POVS with other popular creators

- also occasionally posts videos rating the best male actors/superheroes and once got into a long drawn out back to back war with someone on whether or not Captain America really had “America’s ass” 

- had a very popular multiple-part series about being a girl in the MCU dating the various Avengers but ended it abruptly after Endgame because “Natasha Romanoff deserved better and it hurts too much”

-she used to post occasional videos where she laments on being the “only single person in the family” but she started getting some very creepy duets and comments from actual adults so she told Julian and they both agreed it would be better for her to stop them

-- Julian did take the time to duet the people being inappropriate and explained very clearly that their actions were wrong and directed towards a LITERAL CHILD and shamed multiple accounts into flat out deleting

Ty: Posts literally whatever interests him. Has two animal series - one where he shares facts about his favorite kinds of animals and one where he showcases various animals he’s found in the tidepools or around the house. 

- has done several video series of rescuing animals and has at least one where Julian could be heard lecturing him on trying to raise wild animals in his bedroom again 

-- tiktok freaked out because this happened right around the same time as Julian calling out all the creeps on Livvy’s tiktok and no one knew that the twins he talked about were them  

- also does videos about his favorite literary works - notably Sherlock Holmes - and true crime/mystery videos 

-- he always makes sure to carefully put in warnings for anything remotely violent or triggering and has never had a single video taken down for violating the rules even when he did a multiple part series on the Black Dahlia and how her crime was ‘absolutely solved but because the man who did it was rich and white, he got away with it and probably also killed at least two other women, one of whom was killed in the Philippines” 

-  sometimes does twin videos with Livvy because she likes them and it makes her happy. 

Dru: Queen of witch/horror/true crime tiktok. 

- got in trouble with Julian for showing actual runes in videos but everyone just thought they were for the aesthetic so it was fine

- most popular videos is a series where she rates horror movies on how they do on the bechdel test 

- sometimes duets Ty’s or Livvy’s videos just to drag them (with love) 

- Has a very popular series on “women who snapped” and is known for almost rarely during part 2s (and therefore having to speak very very fast) 

- also complains constantly because her videos will get taken down even if they aren’t that violent and includes clips from far worse videos from male creators to point out the double standard

- occasionally dives into tiktok drama just to dabble and then sits on the sidelines and watches it happen

-- 100% built a balloon arch to flex on That Balloon Girl 

- solidly on witchtok and horrortok

Kit: King of petty/messy tiktok who also posts random videos about crime and occasional blogs

- switches from either sharing no information to borderline oversharing childhood trauma

- shares videos on borderline illegal ways to get back at exfriends/expartners/exfamily members/general enemies 

-- putting fish in people’s vents, subscribing them to magazines under various similar names, sending them glitter in the mail, opening their oreos and taking out the middle of all of them, putting baby locks on their cabinets and in the outlets they can’t see (like under the bed so they can’t get plug in their cellphone charger at night), etc. 

- is always eating some sort of snack, no matter what he is doing

- also posts videos about personal safety like what locks will actually keep people out and what ones are easy to break into

--caused several minor freakouts when he casually mentioned his father taught him how to do it

- occasionally posts videos with an adorable toddler and a young couple who he refers to as “mom and dad” even though they look at MOST five years older than him and he often makes parental abandonment jokes/comments

- no idea where he lives because he speaks in an American accent and talks constantly about American/California life but everything around him looks very British 

- absolutely dives head first into every tiktok drama and will go for the throat for anyone who makes ableist/sexist/racist/homophobic comments without hesitation

-- his drags are legendarily savage and he has caused numerous problematic accounts to just straight up disappear

- duets videos from Livvy, Dru, Mark, Emma and Julian ( with lots of savage drags) but no one knows how he knows them because he is absolutely somewhere in the UK and all of them are based in California/US

-- he also notably NEVER duets Ty

--- the mystery is finally solved when Kit does a livestream and reveals that he met all of them because he was briefly living with them before getting placed with his family, the young couple who actually are his mom and dad 

---- he is very vague about the living situation but everyone assumes he was a foster child 

- he once caused a mass freakout on Tiktok (that actually spilled over to twitter and buzzfeed) when he announced he was going back to the US to visit friends and then posted a video with the caption “when you see your boyfriend in person for the first time in MONTHS but he’s too distracted by some wet 🐱” 

-- the video panned out from Kit’s unamused face to Ty gently rubbing a tiny wet kitten  with a soft cotton towel 

#tiktok #the shadowhunter chronicles #tsc #the dark artifices #tda #the mortal instruments #tmi #julian blackthorn #emma carstairs #cristina rosales #mark blackthorn #kieran #livvy blackthorn #ty blackthorn #dru blackthorn #kit herondale #kit rook #the blackthorns #the carstairs #modern au tiktok #no i don't take criticsm #ty and kit still talk because there's no sadness in this house #livvy is still alive because there's no sadness in this house #kitty #ty x kit #julian x emma #mark x kieran x cristina

[james-joyces-right-eyeball]

Absolute Favorite Books I’d Recommend to Anyone

This is a list of my top-tier favorite books that I would recommend/talk about endlessly to pretty much anyone (in no particular order). I know people probably don’t care but I just like talking about books I love so here we are.

Beloved - Toni Morrison

~ Based off the real story of Margaret Garner, a slave woman who escaped slavery and when captured killed her child in order to prevent them from ever being enslaved again, Beloved tells the story of a mother named Sethe, born in slavery who eventually escaped and is haunted by the figurative demons of her trauma and the literal (arguably) ghost of her dead daughter, who she herself killed. It is an excellent exploration of the horrors of slavery and of the haunting legacy of the institution for those who were subjected to it.

Lolita - Vladimir Nabokov

~ If you’ve been on Tumblr for a while, you probably know what Lolita is. The story of the predatory Humbert Humbert who lusts after, rapes, and kidnaps the “nymphet” Dolores Haze. An excellent construction of how predators, unreliable narrators in their own right, hide behind fabrications, almost-believable excuses, and pretty words to make their actions seem maybe not so bad. In the words of the book itself, “You can always count on a murderer for a fancy prose style.”

Ulysses - James Joyce

~ Notoriously one of the most difficult books in the English language, Ulysses lifts its structure from Homer’s Odyssey to tell the story of a common man, Leopold Bloom, as he goes about his day. Yes, this book takes place over the course of only one day. We follow Bloom as well as Joyce’s literary counterpart Stephen Daedalus through their thoughts and actions, gathering details of their lives previous throughout. It’s a book that, in my own words, “is life”. It is sad, funny, strange, vulgar, disgusting, beautiful, revelatory, sensual, and nonsensical all at once. Joyce aimed to create a reflection of life through his stream-of-consciousness style which some people might find confusing, but I personally find absolutely beautiful and honest and realistic. The prose is also gorgeous, but that could be applied to everything Joyce wrote. 

Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte

~ The classic gothic book that tells the tale of Heathcliff and his ultimately destructive love of Catherine Earnshaw, whose eventual marriage to someone else and the general mistreatment of him by her family drives Heathcliff insane and he spends the rest of his life trying to take revenge by abusing and torturing the next Earnshaw and Linton (the family into which Catherine marries) generations. If I’m being honest, I like this book mostly because of how wild and dark it is, but the writing is also genius and beautiful. I think the book also carries an interesting view of the destructive nature of revenge, overzealous love, and othering.

A Tree Grows in Brooklyn - Betty Smith

~ A coming-of-age story at the turn of the century that tells the story of Francie Nolan, a young bookish girl growing up in a lower class family in New York City. It tells about her father’s struggles with alcoholism as well as her mother’s struggles to deal with that and at the same time raise Francie and her brother. Francie is confronted with a strange, uncertain world as a young girl, but tries to face it with bravery throughout childhood

Little Women - Louisa May Alcott

~ Another coming-of-age story, this time about four young sisters: Meg, Jo, Beth and Amy March. You are probably familiar with this book already; it’s had more movie adaptations then I can possibly remember off the top of my head. It’s the story of four sisters as they try to navigate growing up, love, and loss during the mid to late 1800s.

The Color Purple - Alice Walker

~ A novel that tells the story of Celie, a young black woman who is raped and then married young to a man who will go on to use and abuse her, through her letters to God. Throughout the novel she meets Shug Avery, a woman with whom she eventually falls in love and begins a relationship with. Through this and her eventual freedom from her abusive husband, she is able to gain at last her own sense of self and take back control over her life, a life no longer ruled by the abusive men around her.

The Bluest Eye - Toni Morrison

~ The tragic story of young black girl Pecola Breedlove, who wants nothing more than to have blonde hair and blue eyes just like the women she sees in the movies. Both a deconstruction of the whiteness of beauty standards as well as how these standards can utterly destroy vulnerable young girls, it is also an exploration of the people who allow these sorts of things to happen, including Pecola’s mother and father. The Bluest Eye, I think, showcases one of the aspects of Toni Morrison that I like the most, that I aspire to the most: her ability to enter the minds of all people, even people who you might despise at first. Her characters, especially Cholly in The Bluest Eye, are ones you might not entirely sympathize with, but they will always be ones you understand.

The Bell Jar - Sylvia Plath

~ Based off of the author’s own experiences as a young college student, The Bell Jar tells the story of Esther Greenwood, whose depression over her place as a woman in a patriarchal society as well as her inability to choose a life path for herself leads to a suicide attempt and a subsequent stay in a mental hospital. A very nuanced portrayal of mental illness, especially anxiety and depression, The Bell Jar is an extremely moving and relatable story for me and clearly is as well for others. It is a classic for a reason.

I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings - Maya Angelou

~ A memoir of Angelou’s childhood, this book tells the story of her experiences living as a black girl in the south with her grandmother and brother as well as her later years living with her mother. It also tells of how she was raped by her mother’s boyfriend when she was around eight or nine, and how she struggled to live with that and find her voice, both literally and figuratively. A wonderful book about overcoming struggles and the power of words and literature in such times.

Invisible Man - Ralph Ellison

~ Ellison’s novel tells the story of a young black man, never getting a name in the text, and his feelings of invisibility and his struggles to find a place in society to belong. His struggles only lead him further into despair, until he decides to “become invisible” as people seem not to see him as a person anyway. Invisible Man is an exploration of American mid-century racism and the isolation it causes to those subjected to it. Not only that, but it is surprisingly relevant to our times now, especially on the subject of police violence. (Personal anecdote: When I first read this book, when I got to the aforementioned police violence part it was right in the middle of the BLM resurgence last summer and I cried for a good twenty minutes while reading that chapter over how nothing had changed and it still hurts me to think about it. Embarrassingly, my dad walked in on me while I was crying, and I had to quickly explain it away.)

A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man - James Joyce

~ The title basically says it all lol. This book tells of the coming-of-age of Stephen Daedalus (the same one from the later-written Ulysses). His sensitive childhood, his awkward and lustful adolescence, his feelings of Irish nationality and Catholic guilt, and his struggles to fully realize himself, both as an artist and a human being. It is a very hopeful story, and one that I love mostly because I relate so much to Stephen Daedalus as an artist and as a person.

One Hundred Years of Solitude - Gabriel Garcia Marquez

~ A magical-realist intergenerational family drama, Marquez’s book traces the various lives and loves of the Buendia family over the course of (you guessed it!) one hundred years. A beautifully written, at times extremely emotionally moving and chilling masterpiece, Marquez in a way retells the history of Colombia, of its colonization and exploitation.  

Anna Karenina - Leo Tolstoy

~ A classic Russian novel of society and love, Tolstoy tells the story of Anna Karenina, married, wealthy woman with a child she adores. However, she falls in love with another man, Count Vronsky, and comes to a tragic end for her love. The parallel story of the novel is that of Konstantin Levin, a wealthy landowner who also struggles to find fulfillment in his life and understand his place in society.

The Sound and the Fury - William Faulkner

~ A novel that features an entire family of unreliable narrators, The Sound and the Fury details the fall of a once-prominent southern Compson family and always-present place of the past. There are four different narratives: Benjy Compson, a mentally disabled man who is unsure of his surroundings and of time and only knows that he misses his older sister Caddy; Quintin Compson, the eldest son and a Harvard man both obsessed with his sister retaining her “purity” and the fact that she failed to do so and had a baby out of wedlock, going as far to claim it is his baby in an attempt to preserve something of the family reputation; Jason Compson, who is the caretaker of Caddy’s daughter and believes her to be going down her mother’s “sinful” path; and Dilsey, the black maid of the Compson’s who unlike the people she cares for is not weighed down by their history. The narratives take place in different time periods and is in a stream-of-consciousness style. It’s a deeply dark and disturbing novel about the haunting nature of the past, a common theme in Faulkner’s work (see Absalom, Absalom! for more of this).

Song of Solomon - Toni Morrison

~ It is the story of Milkman Dead, a young black man growing up in the south and his relationship with his very complicated family. To say anymore would be to spoil the novel, but I will say that it is an excellent book about family, self-fulfillment in a world that tries to deny you that, and, like The Bluest Eye, exhibits Morrison’s excellent character work.

Cat on a Hot Tin Roof - Tennessee Williams

~ A play which takes place on the patriarch of a family’s birthday in the oppressive heat of the midsummer south, Williams’ play explores lies, secrets, and how repression only results in anger, frustration, and sadness. It’s a tragic but brilliant play that I think was very ahead of its time. If you’ve read it (or do read it) then you know what I mean.

Giovanni’s Room - James Baldwin

~ This book tells the story of a young man and his love of another man named Giovanni while he is in Paris. It is a book about love, queer guilt, and has what I would call an ambiguous ending. There is uncertainty at the end, but there does seem to be some kind of acceptance. It is a bit of a coming-out story, but more than that it is a story of personal acceptance and at the same time a sad, tragic love story.

HERmione - H.D.

~ An underrated modernist masterpiece, HERmione is a somewhat fictionalized account of the author, Hilda Doolittle’s, experience as a young aspiring poet dating another poet (in real life Ezra Pound in this book named George Lowndes) who is a threat to her both physically and emotionally. It explores her own mental state, as she considers herself a failure and falls in love with a woman for the first time (Fayne Rabb in the book, Frances Gregg in real life). 

To the Lighthouse - Virginia Woolf

~ People think about going to a lighthouse. They do not. A couple years and a war passes then they do. That may seem like a boring plot, and you may be right. However, To the Lighthouse is not much about plot. It is more about the inner lives of its characters, a family and their friends, on two different occasions of their lives: one before WWI and one after WWI. Woolf explores in this novel the trauma that results from such a massive loss of life and security. Not only that, she also explores the nature of art (especially in female artists) in the character of Lily Briscoe and her struggles to complete a painting. It’s a short novel, but it contains so much about life, love, and loss within these few pages.

The Heart is a Lonely Hunter - Carson McCullers

~ A southern gothic novel about isolation and loneliness in a small town. Every character has something to separate them from wider society, and often find solace and companionship in a deaf man, John Singer, who himself experiences a loneliness that they cannot understand. There are various forms of social isolation explored in this novel: by race, disability, age, gender, etc. A wonderful, heart-wrenching book about loneliness and the depths it can potentially drag people to.

The Waste Land - T.S. Eliot

~ A modernist masterpiece of a poem, Eliot describes feeling emptiness and isolation. The brilliance of it can only be shown by an excerpt:

“Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither Living nor dead, and I knew nothing, Looking into the heart of light, the silence.”

“The river’s tent is broken: the last fingers of leaf Clutch and sink into the wet bank. The wind Crosses the brown land, unheard. The nymphs are departed. Sweet Thames, run softly, till I end my song. The river bears no empty bottles, sandwich papers, Silk handkerchiefs, cardboard boxes, cigarette ends Or other testimony of summer nights. The nymphs are departed. And their friends, the loitering heirs of city directors; Departed, have left no addresses. By the waters of Leman I sat down and wept . . . Sweet Thames, run softly till I end my song, Sweet Thames, run softly, for I speak not loud or long. But at my back in a cold blast I hear The rattle of the bones, and chuckle spread from ear to ear. “

(My personal favorite line from this poem is, “I will show you fear in a handful of dust.”)

The Trial - Franz Kafka

~ The protagonist of the novel, Josef K., wakes up one morning to find that he has been placed under arrest for reasons that are kept from him. Kafka creates throughout the novel a scathing satire of bureaucracy, as K. tries to find out more about his case, more about his trial, but only becomes more confused as he digs deeper. There seems to be no rhyme or reason to the world he lives in, and the more tries to explain it the further the more that proves to be the case. An excellently constructed novel and a great one to read if you would like to be depressed about the state of the world because, though Kafka’s work is a satire, like a lot of his other work, it manages to strike a strangely real note.

Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead - Tom Stoppard

~ An absurdist play that is a retelling of Shakespeare’s Hamlet from the perspective of minor characters, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, who in the broad overview of the original play, do not matter. Throughout the play, they question their existence and the purpose of it and through that Stoppard dissects not only the absurdity of life, but how fiction and theater reflect that absurdity inadvertently.

As I Lay Dying - William Faulkner

~ The novel details the journey the Bundren family makes after the death of the family matriarch, Addie, to bury her. Each chapter offers a different narrative from the family members and those who surround them, revealing some ulterior motives to them “going to town” to bury Addie. The patriarch Anse desires a pair of false teeth, and the daughter Dewey Dell is pregnant and needs an abortion, as there is no way for her or her family to support it. It’s about the powerlessness of people in the impoverished south. The Bundrens are constantly subject to forces beyond their control, struggles which would be easily solved if they had the money to spare for it. There is more to the book, but that is my favorite reading of it, that of class. Faulkner’s ability to create distinct voices for every one of his characters shines through here.

And, last but not least:

The Collected Poems - Sylvia Plath

~ All the poems Plath wrote during her tragically short lifetime. The best way to demonstrate or summarize the book’s brilliance is just to show you. This is her poem “Edge”, which appears in the book:

“The woman is perfected.   Her dead Body wears the smile of accomplishment,   The illusion of a Greek necessity Flows in the scrolls of her toga,   Her bare Feet seem to be saying: We have come so far, it is over. Each dead child coiled, a white serpent,   One at each little Pitcher of milk, now empty.   She has folded Them back into her body as petals   Of a rose close when the garden Stiffens and odors bleed From the sweet, deep throats of the night flower. The moon has nothing to be sad about,   Staring from her hood of bone. She is used to this sort of thing. Her blacks crackle and drag.”

HOPE YOU ENJOYED! HAPPY READING TO ALL!

#dark academia #books and literature #toni morrison #james joyce #tennessee williams #virginia woolf #william faulkner #sylvia plath #plays #poetry #can you tell i like southern and modernist lit lol?

[lifeofkaze]

When Stars Ignite - Chapter 1

HPHM Rockstar AU

A/N: After much hype, many sleepless nights and WAY too much fun, today is the day. I can’t believe it’s here. Ladies and gentlemen, enjoy the first chapter of Part 1/5 of Al’s and my HPHM Rockstar AU. Katriona Cassiopeia belongs to @kc-and-oc

General Warning: This whole fic has a general warning of being NSFW / 18+. We will give specific warnings for every chapter in itself, but several adult themes will be more or less present in every chapter, may it be explicitly or in mention. These include sexual topics, drug abuse, (ab)use of alcohol, smoking and a whole lot of cursing. They’re rockstars after all.

Specific Warning: Mentions of alcohol, swearing

~~~

Find the masterpost here, the previous chapter here and the next one here. The songs featured before every chapter can be found on this pretty badass playlist here.

~~~

This work is a collaboration with @the-al-chemist

Taglist: @slytherindisaster

Light it up, light it up, now I'm burning

Feel the rush, feel the rush of adrenaline

We are young, we are strong, we will rise

Cause I'm back, back, back from the dead tonight

~ Skillet - Back From The Dead ~

The colourful patterns of the spotlights sweeping over him, Orion Amari let go of the neck of his guitar with a flourish of his arm. He couldn’t see most of the huge crowd filling the vast space that was London’s O2 arena, but he could hear them going wild at the solo he had just finished.

The bright lights burning down on him and the other members of their band were erasing all faces except for the first rows, but he could feel the presence of the crowd; the sound of the joined voices in unison with the music was reverberating through him, amplifying the beat of his heart until he could feel it in every remote corner of his body, his heartbeat and the rhythm of the song one and the same.

He let the music carry him for a moment before he put his fingers onto the strings of his instrument again and joined in with the rest.

It was their first show back after a four week break, marking the beginning of the last leg of Equinox’s biggest European tour so far. The final shows would be taking them all around the U.K., to end their tour where everything had begun so many years ago.

He shook his long, black hair out of his eyes and moved across the stage towards Skye Parkin, the bassist of the band. She was jumping up and down to the music, her blue hair flowing around her like a coloured halo. She greeted him with an enthusiastic grin as he stood across from her, both their fingers dancing over the necks of their instruments in patterns which had become second nature to them.

When Skye turned away to engage with the crowd again, Orion let his eyes wander over the stage, drinking in every precious second before tonight’s show would be over in a few more moments.

Merula Snyde, keyboardist and backing vocalist of the band, had her head bowed deeply over the keys of her instrument. Her short, wavy hair with the signature blonde streak hid her face from Orion’s view, but he knew how her brow would be creased over her eyes, which were so blue they almost looked violet at times. She was probably biting her lower lip in concentration, too; Orion had known Merula since they had been children, and even back then, she had been able to fade out everything else but the thing she was concentrating on.

Skye, on the other hand, was fully immersed in the music, shaking her head enthusiastically. She was singing along on the top of her lungs and Orion was glad his in-ear monitor allowed him only to hear what he needed to. While Skye was a brilliant bassist, her singing often had him grind his teeth; not that she was caring in the least.

Next to her, the frontman and lead singer of their band, Jason Everett, was trying his best to make the girls adoring him from the front row swoon. He flashed a smile at one of them; the poor thing started to cry hysterically while her friends were shaking her. He had his guitar pushed to his back and his hands were clasped around the microphone, his dark, warm voice floating through the heated-up air.

Feeling slightly embarrassed at the scene, Orion averted his eyes. He turned around and wandered back to his own designated spot where his other guitars and pedals to control the musical effects were set up.

His eyes swept over the raised pedestal at the back of the stage where the huge drum kit of Lizzie Jameson, the lively drummer of Equinox, was situated. A smile tugged at his lips as he watched her maintaining the compelling rhythm of the song with breathtaking speed. Her drumsticks were dancing over the set faster than his eyes could follow.

During a short break, she dipped her head back and sang along, her light brown ponytail messy and tangled from playing. She was swaying her body to the familiar tunes, her eyes closed, a smile on her face.

The music wasn’t merely in her blood; the pounding of the drums was synchronised with the beating of her heart.

Orion watched with a smirk as she opened her eyes and spun one of her drumsticks between her fingers before letting them dance over her kit once more. He had never known anyone quite like her.

She was rhythm incarnate.

And what was more, when all was said and done, when the last spotlight had gone out and the arena was empty again, he knew that she was his.

~~~

When Orion entered the green room after it had been his turn to take a shower, everyone else was waiting for him already.

Merula was quietly eating the dubious looking Chinese food they had ordered, whereas Lizzie and Skye were busy joking around with each other; Everett sat lounging on one of the leather sofas lining the walls of the room, a bottle of beer in hand and looking as glum as was usual for him these days.

His dark blond hair was still damp and his eyes followed Orion as he made his way over to where Skye and Lizzie were sitting. Orion could almost feel his piercing gaze in between his shoulder blades; upon turning around, their eyes met for a split second before the lead singer looked away again.

All of their attention was drawn towards the entrance of the room when Ethan Parkin, former rockstar of times long gone and now the manager of his daughter’s band, strode into their midst with a beaming smile on his face.

“What a show, what a show indeed,” he proclaimed, slowly clapping his hands together. “That may have been one of your best shows so far, and after such a long break as well! The fan store was practically raided afterwards. I’m so proud of you!”

Orion fought the urge to sigh; of course, the first thing Ethan thought of was always the amount of profit made. Granted, it was part of his job to have the financial aspects under control, but Orion wished it wasn’t such a prominent feature on his mind. After all, money had never been the reason they had decided to share their music with the world.

When Orion saw the door opening again and the three main members of their tech crew entered the room, he rose from his seat and smiled into the round of tired looking faces he considered his family.

“I welcome all of you back,” he began the introduction to their usual feedback round that was happening after every show. “I know we already saw each other earlier today, but it is only now, with the echo of our music still in the air that we are back, that we are where we truly belong. With our energies recharged, our performance was as splendid as we could have hoped for it to be.”

He brought his fingertips together and inclined his head. “Speaking for myself, there is nothing I found faulty tonight, may it be from our part or the technical department. But my perception is solely my own and I cannot speak for all of us; if there is anything any of you feels the need to make note of, now is the time to do so.”

Everybody was silent for a moment, nobody wanting to be the first one to speak up.

Eventually, Merula shrugged. “Not a big deal, but could the green spotlight be adjusted tomorrow? It was shining right into my eyes whenever it turned, couldn’t see a bloody thing.”

She was looking expectantly at the woman with the strawberry blonde curls sitting opposite her. Katriona ‘KC’ Cassiopeia, head of the lighting department nodded and scribbled something down on the clipboard she was carrying.

Contrary to the rest of the crew, she wasn’t wearing the signature black shirt with the logo of the tech company, but a simple dark tank top underneath a black cashmere sweater. As one of the two owners of Aurora Tourealis, the company who was providing Equinox’s touring crew, she had no need to showcase her affiliation with the band; every person working with them knew both her face and her attitude.

Murphy McNully, her partner in business and in life, leaned over to her from his wheelchair and pointed to something she had written down. They exchanged a few quiet words and she crossed something out. Looking up from her notes, her blue eyes swept the room.

“Alright, I’ll see what I can do about the spotlight. Anything else on the technical side?”

Everyone was silent again, until Everett came out of his slouching position, downed the remains of his beer and looked at them out of narrowed eyes.

“Is no one going to address the giant fucking elephant in the room?” he asked incredulously.

Orion’s shoulders tensed at his words; there was no need for him to speak so harshly. “Speak your thoughts and you’ll be heard.”

Ignoring him, Everett leaned forward, underarms resting on his thighs and nodded at the broad shouldered redhead leaning against the wall next to Lizzie.

“We should be used to it by now, but as always, the pyros were a joke today. One step closer and I’d be short of my eyebrows.”

“That’s what we put the markings on the floor for,” Charlie Weasley replied sharply, not impressed by Everett’s unfriendly tone. “I don’t spend all day crawling around on stage for you to ignore them and then get pissed off with the results. Don’t criticise me when you can’t follow directions.”

Sitting upright, Everett opened his mouth to shoot back but Lizzie hurriedly cut him off. “To be totally fair, Charlie, the sound mix on my in-ear monitor wasn’t ideal either,” she said softly.

She placed a hand on Charlie’s arm as she continued, the aggressiveness in his demeanour lessening almost instantly. “It was alright and I could play without problems, but I had trouble hearing Merula at some points.”

Contrary to his reaction to Everett’s critique, Charlie looked at his childhood friend apologetically. “Why didn’t you say something during the soundcheck?”

Lizzie shrugged. “You were busy setting up the explosives, so I figured it would do.”

“But it doesn't,” Ethan chimed into the conversation. “If something is not perfect, you have to say so, Lizzie; it’s his job and he didn’t deliver properly.”

His attention turned to Murphy and KC, who were looking a little more tense than usual. ”How you manage your staff is none of my business, but if Charlie wants to manage the sound he should do so and not dabble with the pryos; this is not acceptable.”

“I’m not dabbling,” Charlie huffed, earning him an elbow into the side from Lizzie to shut him up.

Ignoring him, Ethan continued speaking with Murphy, “You still don’t have a new pyro tech to replace him, even though you had four weeks after you kicked the last one out. I’m not used to such unprofessionalism coming from you.”

Her face darkening, KC opened her mouth to put Ethan in his place, but Murphy quickly placed a hand on her knee to calm her down.

“I know that we had a suitable amount of time to hire someone new,” he explained matter-of-factly. “But as it is, doing an interview with possible candidates is not even 34.8 % of the battle. You need to see them working in action with the crew to properly assert whether they’re suited for the job.”

His gaze flickered to Charlie, who had crossed his arms in front of his chest; his freckled face had gone dark at the mention of his replacement. Murphy stifled a sigh, returning his focus to the discussion at hand.

“In fact, we’ll be reviewing another applicant first thing tomorrow morning. You know our rate at perfectly delivered jobs lies at 97.6 %, the rest being subjected to unexpected events and bad luck. There’s a reason you have worked with us for such a long time. We’re going to get the situation under control.”

Ethan gave him a hard stare. “You’d better.”

Before the tension in the room could get overboard, Orion cleared his throat. “It is good to see how we can learn from each other in our strive to achieve the best possible result for our fans. But even the most creative of minds cannot work properly if not in balance with the rest of the body. I suggest that McNully, KC and Charlie finish their tasks, while we go and let the day sink in.”

He eyed the container of Chinese food Merula was still holding sceptically. “I, for one, could use something real to eat.”

#hphm #harry potter hogwarts mystery #hogwarts mystery #rockstar au #orion amari #skye parkin #merula snyde #murphy mcnully #katriona cassiopeia #lizzie jameson #lizion #when stars ignite #writer besties #besties collaborate

[all-things-fic]

Quarantine Begins At Home

A/N: Hi everyone, its been a long time since I’ve done one of these authors note thingys.

I know it may sound silly but I wanted to put a bit of a disclaimer in my authors note. This piece of writing is by no means encouraging people to start getting close to each other, please make sure you are social distancing and please wash your bloody hands. This is purely a way to give some of you who are in quarantine (which by now seems to be all of us) some light relief. Everyone stay safe and look after yourselves!

Please enjoy for simple entertainment and of course let me know what you think. Looking forward to hearing what you have to say for yourselves!  I’m not going to hide my phone so I don’t obsess over notifications because I’m rubbish at releasing any of my writing into the wild.

P.S. praise Beauty Papers for bringing out that one picture of Harry where he’s in his undies and socks and TPWK tee. You fed this fic. .x

***

The niggly cough that you’d been showcasing over the last three days was nothing more than annoying. Topping itself off with a fever that had you sweating unattractively the night before, had left you thinking only one thing. 

Quarantine was on the horizon. 

When you’d sat up straight in bed, 3am that morning, sporting a clammy, tackiness to your skin you didn’t even think twice about stripping off your pyjama top before dropping back down into bed. 

It had been hard to push away your husband, his own bare chest finding your back as he pulled you towards him. Hands only stilling their actions when you whined into the darkness about how you were ‘too hot for that’. 

Harry had chuckled into the back of your head and softly shushed you as you’d let yourself doze back to sleep. 

Two nights after, Harry had not so elegantly shook the bed as he kicked the duvet off his body to stop himself from sweating. 

“‘S bloody hot in ‘ere, ‘m sweating,” he grumbled, flipping over his pillow so that the cold side could greet his flushed face and offer some sort of relief. 

He turned to face you, causing you to ask him to flip back to his previous position because you didn’t want him to breathe on you. 

“It’s not you, it’s the carona,” you responded, burrowing down and pulling your blanket over your mouth.

You knew if it wasn’t so dark in the room he would appreciate the cheeky glint in your eye as you stared back at him.

“Yeah, that’s what they all say,” he groaned, rolling over and pushing his face against the pillow. You rolled your lips into your mouth, suppressing your laughter at how miserable he had become, while he huffed and puffed into his fresh bed-linen. 

Lifting your hands from under the confines of your blankets you reached up to gently rub Harry’s back, wanting to provide some form of comfort if you could. 

The two of you lay silent and awake in the dark that night. Both sprightly and in your twenties, you knew you didn’t have much to worry about anything, but you had to do your bit. 

Isolating yourself was going to be interesting.

***

If you had never felt like you were comfortable around your husband before now - the kind of comfortable that meant you’d leave the bathroom door open as you used the toilet - Harry was doing everything in his power during quarantine to reassure you otherwise.

It was in the comments he made, the way he moved. The kind that should have you wrinkling your nose at him and shaking your head, to tell him to stop. However, now you found yourself taking it all in your stride, often clapping back with a comment that had him chuckling to himself.

“I’ve not changed my pants since Monday,” his deep morning voice broke the sleep filled silence as you both lay in bed.

“Makes a change that you’re actually wearing them,” you mumbled back, weirdly not bothered at the filthy habit your husband had just revealled while you entered another day of being cooped up. 

“It’s not usually a problem,” he spoke, dropping his eyes down to look at you, as you pressed your head closer to his lips accepting the fleeting kiss he left in you hair. 

“Surprised you even know what day it is-“

“Been crossing the days off the kitchen calendar.”

He was proud of himself for that one. For helping the two of you not enter that weird period that was usually only experienced during Christmas and New Year. Where no one knows what day of the week it is; AM and PM blending together. 

Naps became scheduled parts of the day, and arguably the most important part to aid avoiding grouchy backbiting comments bubbling simply from being around each other for a little more than was bearable. Everyday was becoming more and more like a Sunday. 

“Wondered why the calendar was a day out?”

“What’d you mean?”

The offence lacing his question caused you to bite away your smile as you continued to aimlessly scroll through Instagram. “Dates have been crossed off one day out, you crossed out Wednesday yesterday when it’s in fact Wednesday today.”

There was a small amount of silence in the room as your words resonated with Harry. 

“Bollocks.”

You muffled your chuckle by pressing your lips into Harry’s forearm that was nestled securely around your shoulder and across your chest. 

“The thought was there, darling. It is appreciated. Thank you,” you whispered after leaving a chaste kiss against his skin once more. You took great delight in feeling the downy hair of his arm pressed to your lips. 

As your eyes remained on the screen of your phone, you watched the 45836 quarantine meme on your timeline cut away from Instagram to an incoming FaceTime from your mother-in-law.

“Harry,” you hummed, hearing him barely respond with his own steady grunt of acknowledgment. “Why’s your Mum FaceTiming me?”

“I dunno-“ he cut off, pressing his face to uncomfortably rest into your hair. “Quick, answer before it cuts off-“

“We’re in bed-“

Moving the fastest he had all day, you couldn’t even comprehend that Harry had accepted the call before a crackle of sound and another environment was heard through your phone speaker.

“He’s alive then,” Anne immediately spoke the minute her FaceTime screen had cleared from a blurry pixelated mess. “Yes, you young man. Trying to hide your face into your wife’s hair, like you know she’ll take your flack for you.”

You found yourself sinking further underneath your duvet as you watched Anne address Harry through the phone. Her tone was clearly abrasive but more so out of worry.

“You know I’ve been calling you,” she continued, pausing. “You needn’t look at me like that from the corner of your eye, Harry. Have you got food in your house?“

“We’re okay for food, Anne,” you acknowledged her, watching the way her eyes looked to your left, her stare holding on her youngest. As she blinked she turned to face you, her face softening. 

“Even better for loo roll,” Harry sarcastically quipped. 

Again, Anne’s eyes hardened as she skimmed them over her son’s less than impressed expression. 

“Put your face straight,” she sharply spoke. “What about protection?”

“‘Fucksake pass me tha’ phone ‘ere,” he groaned, rolling around to sit up in bed and take the phone away from you. You did nothing to fight him, slightly embarrassed at the insinuation and the current place in your house where Anne had caught you both.

Pulling at his joggers that sat low against his hips, Harry held the phone up so that his mother was no longer seeing the sweaty palm of his hand and then a quick glimpse of an unmade bed.

When her image graced his vision he noticed the way she was smiling, her face almost split in two before she sipped at her cup of tea. His eyes took in the garden behind her, one that he knew well and he knew she’d be enjoying her brunch on the nice spring day that awaited those who needed to do a quick top-up shop at their local supermarket, feel brave enough to pop outside.

Shaking his head, he raised his eyebrows at his Mum who seemed awfully pleased with herself. 

“Had yer fun now, I’m up. You’ve succeeded.”

“It’s bloody midday,” she chastised.

“Had a late night, didn’t we?,” he glanced over at you, watching the way your eyes almost popped out at his suggestive comment.

“Tell you what, this quarantine‘s gonna have a lot to answer for,” Anne started, her voice light. “Isn’t that right, Evie?” She spoke, the visual that greeted Harry being one of his mother softly showering his cat with love and affection. “‘S Daddy forgetting about you already? You made him a Daddy first isn’t that right?”

“Mum,” Harry’s tone was set as he stressed how he addressed Anne, willing her to stop her playful jibing at his expense. 

“‘M telling you, sweetheart. Baby boom is impending,” again Anne raised her eyebrows. All Harry could do was chuckle at how invested his Mum appeared to be in wanting to become a Grandmother. 

“Anyway,” she grabbed Harry’s attention again, as he bounced his way down the stairs of his home and padded his socked feet along his wooden floors. “Are you showering?” 

“‘M not a bloody sloth-“

“It’s midday and you’ve only just left your pit.”

He didn’t have a leg to stand on. You smiled as you heard their interaction, having been hot on Harry’s tails. As you relaxed against the doorframe of your kitchen, you heard Anne’s chuckling to herself before she next spoke. 

“Could do with a shave.”

“Anything else I’m not doing right?”

Pushing up off the doorframe, you found yourself drawn to Harry. Hand rubbing up his clothed back and shoulders, you rubbed at them gently and pushed your face into the frame.

“No, the beard can stay,” you turned to Harry, jokingly squeezing at his jaw and cheeks with your right hand solely, before you mischievously tapped his cheek and turned your attention to putting on your kitchen stove.

“The wife says no,” he jutted out his bottom lip in a challenge to his Mum.

“Not just the cat he’s replacing, Anne-“

Anne’s boisterous laugh filled your kitchen at your comment and it warmed you as you caught the way it had Harry softly laughing to. His body relaxing and bending down so his elbow rested against the kitchen counter, chin leaning against his palm. 

“There’s enough of me to go around,” he breathed out, cheekily looking at you from the corner of his eye. You loved the way his cheeks had started to softly glow with an endearing blush.

“You do look healthy, love,”

Just like that, gone was the cheeky smile, the glowing eyes. They were quick to be replaced by a light frown and slightly offended expression, “‘s tha’ s’pose to mean?”

“It’s only quarantine weight, nothing he can’t get rid of,” you said, leaning back into the frame and goadingly patting against Harry's little pot-belly that slightly stuck out against his t-shirt. “Can’t be having anyone else fancying him now, can I Anne?”

Again Anne laughed, eyes glittering through the screen as she watched the way the two of you interacted. It was clear that this conversation was something she definitely needed having been holed up in her abode by herself. 

Harry squinted his eyes suspiciously at you, before sharply looking at his Mum. “Oh, I see how it is,” he started with a soft nod. “The two of you ganging up on me, ‘s fine I’m a big boy.”

“The stretch waistband on your joggers agrees,” you hummed, raising your eyebrows before addressing Anne off screen. “We call this his quarantine outfit.”

“I tell you what, ‘s a good job you haven’t got to pour yourself into those skinny jeans anymore cause that would be a-“

You feel him staring at you, causing your voice to trail off. “No carry on, dares ya,” he drawled. He saw the way you opened your mouth to continue, nostrils flaring as you took a deep breath and looked at him with an amused expression.

“I-“

Harry darted at you as your voice caught in your throat, the loudest squeal leaving your lips as your phone clattered face down to the marble of you kitchen counter and gave Anne nothing more than the visual of a black screen framed by gleeful noises of a blissfully newlywed couple.

***

Quarantine is all fun and games until your husband of sixty-seven days decides he wants to put together the coffee table that you’d been gifted from a member of your wedding party. 

You knew Harry was becoming ansty as you entered day nine of your self-isolation. His fingers and thumbs too twitchy for his own good. You felt the same but by giving yourself a little list of tasks such as changing your bedding every couple of days, you’d managed to find a way to keep yourself busy enough. Between that, reading and scrolling mindlessly through social media, you were doing okay. Or so you thought. 

There was something about men and DIY. They all liked to think they were good at it. Especially when they’re looking for something to do. And while they groan when asked about doing the jobs around the house, there was surely an element of pleasure found in the most menial of tasks (more so in the current climate) and a smugness in being needed. 

Everything had started out well. Harry had made you snort your laughter at how he’d flamboyantly pulled open the box of the flat-pack furniture in the middle of your living room. 

Everything had been neatly wrapped in plastic, and while not ideal for the planet it was ideal for your pleasure of having everything organised. 

Sat cross-legged on the floor, in nothing more than a pair of underpants, socks and a t-shirt, Harry eagerly flipped through the white paper instructions.  

You smiled to yourself when you saw him trying to decipher the Italian instructions, knowing just how adamant he was about ensuring he kept his mind active during quarantine and that he made it so he had used the time wisely and learned a new skill.

“Think an awful lot of yourself, don’t you?” you teased, watching his gaze slowly lift and look at you through the hair that had fallen into his eyes. “Just read the English instructions, Harry.”

He smirked, dropping his eyes back down to the Italian instructions and ignoring your plea. 

“Thought you were supportive of my challenge of becoming a bilingual king,” he spoke sarcastically, tone set as he set his brow and really tried to concentrate on the drawings.

“But then that means I have to become a bilingual queen, and we all know that wouldn’t be a pretty sight.”

Harry laughed, reaching forward for one of the items he was looking for, scrutinising it by moving it around in his hands before placing it back down onto the floor.

“Could always just look at the pictures, love?”

“Pardon,” you spoke, rolling your head to look at him from where you lay along the couch, with eyes wider than usual at his brazen cheek. He didn’t reply, instead he shook his head while wearing the most amused expression you’d seen since the start of your quarantine.

Before you could stop yourself, you reached for a throw cushion from the sofa and threw it at him, the item hitting Harry not so elegantly against the shoulder as he leaned over to check he had the other parts required to complete the furniture assembly. 

He, of course, took it in his stride, grabbing at the cushion and sitting on it. “Thanks for that, darling. Arse would go numb otherwise.”

“You’re squishing my favourite throw pillow-“

“Took the name quite literally then,” he spoke with a tight voice as he raised himself up onto his knees and crawled across the rug underneath him. “If you don’t mind, I’m doing manly things over ‘ere.”

Instead of responding you turned on your side and buried your left cheek into another cushion. Seeing Harry so concentrated but messy had been one of the things you’d enjoyed the most about your time being holed up together. 

He had absolutely let himself go but loved every minute of doing so. His hair hadn’t been styled once since the two of you had shut up shop to recuperate. His clothes, of which he appeared to be wearing less and less as the days went by, were more high street special than couture runway. 

He’d never looked more attractive. Honestly. 

“Are you going to lie there and watch me, or are yer gonna help?”

Again his question was concentrated, his hands and eyes preoccupied. 

“Thought you liked being in control, doin’ all the work-“

He side-eyed you, his lips twitching up into a sly smile. “Need reminding, ‘s tha’ it?” 

“What I need is,” you paused, watching the way he kept his eyes on you. “What I need is for you to put up our coffee table.”

“What’s it look like I’m doing?”

“Like you’re staring at a bunch of parts-“

“‘S the instructions, not me!”

You stared at him as he laughed around his exclaimed words. Swinging your legs, you forced yourself to sit up and saw the way Harry moved slightly back to give you more space. “That’s it, gimme the bloody instructions, let’s have a look at these pictures.”

Somewhere amongst the friendly bickering you managed to help him sort out all the parts and count out all the screws just to make sure he had everything he needed. 

When you’d seen that he had laid everything out that he required, you pushed yourself up from the floor where you had placed yourself opposite Harry.

“Fancy a cuppa for your efforts?”

Scratching at the back of his head, he looked at you. “Not done much,” he scrunched his nose. “Could you grab me a water?”

You nodded, leaning down to press your lips to his. He hummed, happy, as you pulled away and offered him a series of soft pecks. “‘S nice,” he whispered.

“I am nice,” you confirmed. “I’ll grab a screwdriver or two from the garage, in case the allen keys don’t cut it.”

His laugh was a knowing one as you walked away and heard the first expletive leave Harry’s lips when he reached for the first part of the furniture to piece together. “‘S not lining up wi’the hole,” he shouted through from the lounge to the kitchen at you. 

You chuckled under your breath shaking your head before he shouted again, “‘s not what it sounds like!”

That caused you to bark a laugh. It was going to be a long afternoon. 

***

You weren’t quite sure where it had all gone wrong. From laughing about awful innuendo, to aggravatedly sighing at each other. Yet, you were there in the thick of it and seemingly very happy to ride the wave.

“This is your fault,” he muttered under his breath, the crackle of the paper as he snatched up the instructions to flick through them one more time bringing nothing more than frustration. You saw the way he slowly retraced his steps and try and figure out where it had gone wrong. 

“All I’ve done is pass you things,” you snapped back. “And if you’re gonna blame me at least put some conviction behind it and say it with your whole chest. Don’t be a wuss.” 

He grunted at that and if you hadn’t got your head buried into your phone, looking at work emails this time via the Outlook app, you would’ve seen the way he was mocking you and mouthing the words you had just said to him with a less than pleased look on his face. 

Harry sat with one coffee table leg to complete, however if his counting was correct he was a screw missing. Probably in more ways than one after this quarantine was over; the same going for you. 

“Wanted the coffee table up, continues to sit around and not help,” he spoke his words louder than he had envisaged them in his head, seeing the way your figure shifted on the couch as you heard him loud and clear.

“Thought I told you to stop mumbling under your breath,” you cut your eyes over to him, watching the way he waggled the screwdriver he was using in between his thumb and forefinger lightly.

The item shook and you were about to tell him off like he was your son, rather than your partner, if that screwdriver so much as softly scratched, never mind dented, the oak top of your coffee table.

What was annoying you more was how he was just sitting there. Not so much as moving a muscle and letting his eyes frantically move along the wooden flooring and lounge rugs, just expecting a screw to shine up at him like he was a magpie. 

With irrational anger bubbling inside of you, that wouldn’t have existed if you’d decided to sit outside in the garden to do your work rather than watching Harry, you sighed. 

“Shift your fat arse,” you said with more bite than you intended. 

Harry glared at you, his sharp stare meeting yours dead on in a silent question of ‘what did you just say to me?’

“You heard me,” you answered. “Move yourself!” 

The torment in his features as to whether he should remain stubborn and not move, or see where you were going with your harsh vagueness, played across his face.

Ultimately however, he wanted to finish this fucking thing. The one thing he wished he hadn’t started. 

Annoyed, he shuffled around so he found himself on his knees. He watched as you pushed yourself off the couch, and peered around his body to take in the space which he had just freed up. 

“There. You’re sitting on it!” 

Harry’s eyes dropped down at the space behind him, green gaze spotting the tiny silver, bane of his existence, almost instantly. He snatched up the tiny screw that has been underneath his thigh and looked at you with a pointed glare.

“Don’t know why you’re looking at me like that, mate.”

“Don’t ‘mate’ me,” he growled, snatching up the last coffee table leg this time and using the recently found screw to secure it to the table. 

Part of you wanted to laugh at the scene in front of you, the two of you facing off but neither of you able to look at the other.

“I’m waiting for my apology,” you said, soft smile hurting your lips, as he continued to fix into place the last piece. You thought your tone was light, as you found humour at how the two of you were easily beginning to get sick of each other now.

“Well, you’re gonna be waiting a long fucking time.”

And just like that he’d sucked away all the humour you’d felt towards the argument, faster than a vacuum cleaner.

“There’s no need to be an arsehole, I was joking-“

“Could’ve fucking fooled me,” he looked up at you, while you watched the way his arm began to tense as he got closer to the end of the screw becoming tight enough.

He was just as tight; a coil ready to spring and pop. 

“I can’t reason with you when you’re like this,” you stared at him, as you watched him chuckle with a shake of his head. He didn’t respond, happy to shoulder the blame if it meant he would get you out of his hair and give him a moment of peace.

Instead his eyes were trained on your feet as he watched you walk away. A sense of freedom washing over you both as you did so. 

***

You frowned down at the hob of your cooker and watched the way it sparkled up at you. Snatching up the cleaning detergent, you squeezed at the pump and watched the white foamy spray squirt unnecessarily against the already very clean surface.

This was your distraction, while Harry’s was continuing to push his nose into the novel of his choosing as he lay along your couch. You never were really much of a cleaner but quarantine meant that you were living in the same four walls for so long than you’d found even more of a sense of pride over your abode. 

Pressing your hands into the kitchen counter, you felt the front of your hair fall messily into your eyes as you took deep breaths. You were more sad than angry now. This weird feeling sitting in your chest that was overriding your sense of thinking rationally.

Why should you apologise? Really. Why?

Why shouldn’t he apologise? Be the bigger person in this whole thing? 

Breathing deeply in through your nose, you lifted your eyes up to look at the kettle that sat to you right. Before you even thought about it you flicked your wrist and pressed at the lever of the kettle.

The amber light signified that it was about to boil, the usual crackle following not too long after. 

Raising up, you rolled your neck and shoulders, feeling the tension beneath them that would only be alleviated by a massage of some sort. Foot steps heavy as they trudged over to the opposite side of your kitchen to the sink draining rack, your preferred mug was easy to grab.

You hand stilled as you reached for his mug, the sound of a dry cough pushing its way through the tense air from the other room. From the sound of it you knew he hadn’t approached and that he was still in his own brooding state, having taken root along the couch. 

Medical professionals had told both you and Harry via telephone that while you were experiencing symptoms of the virus, you were leaning more so to a common cold given the bout of sneezing that had so gracefully taken over you both on day five of being cooped up.

Regardless of not being considered vulnerable the time was still a scary one, and the thought of losing loved ones very much at the front of your mind.

Which is why you should apologise.

You huffed at your conscience, snatching up Harry’s mug and sitting it next to yours. Two tea bags later,steaming hot water and a dash of milk, you took solace in the tinker of the spoon against the ceramic.

Cleaning products tossed aside, hands washed for at least the thirtieth time that day, you curled your fingers around the handles and tip-toed carefully towards your living room 

Halting at the edge of the room, you took in Harry’s figure as he lay along the couch. Dressed in nothing more than a t-shirt that read the infamous slogan he was known for, a pair of y-front pants that should be nothing more than repulsive to you and sports socks; he looked comforting even though sulky. 

Soft frown etched in between his brows, Harry’s eyes were frantically moving over the pages of the book that had him incredibly engrossed. You watched the way he licked at the middle finger of his right hand and turned the page.

Before you could stop yourself, a tut escaped your lips. He shouldn’t be putting his hands anywhere near his face. When was the last time he’d washed them? 

The noise caused Harry to sharply cut his eyes to you, abruptly pulling them from the pages of the paperback and onto your figure. You stood, awkward under his gaze, watching his eyes drop to the two mugs you held.

“Shouldn’t be doing that,” you lazily commented on him licking his fingers. “When did you last sanitise?”

“Please get off my arse,” he deadpanned. 

You swallowed harshly, continuing to feel heavier from your previous bicker. You didn’t want this unnecessary animosity to continue at all. He must’ve known that from the way his face softened slightly as he dropped his eyes, that were now not as harsh with their gaze as when he previously looked at you, to the steaming mugs.

“‘S all this,” he hummed. “‘S my mug.”

“It is,” you croaked, acknowledging his obvious statement. “‘S me bringing you a peace offering.”

“Brought any biscuits wi’yer?”

Your lips twitched at his question, offering nothing more than a shake of your head in response.

“‘S no good,” he hummed, eyes turning back to his book as he nudged his body over slightly to create a bigger gap next to him. A gap that looked awfully big enough to hold you.

Feeling brave from his light conversation, you walked closer. The dull thud of the heavy, tea-filled mugs hitting the coffee table that had just three hours earlier caused world war three in the four walls of your home, nervously brought you attention back to the sole reason you weren’t talking.

Over an inanimate object. 

Not wanting to push your luck, you slowly let the remaining part of the large couch above Harry’s head swallow you. Mind now no longer engulfed by the worry of confrontation, your senses tuned in to the soft hum of a record playing in the top corner of your lounge and the partially agitated sigh that left Harry’s lips.

You didn’t acknowledge it, choosing to instead blow gently at the warm mug held securely between both your hands. You knew it would be too hot for you to even consider drinking just yet.

Legs curled up underneath and to the side of you, you dropped your neck back slightly to rest against the marshmallow-like cushions and relax.

Finding comfort wasn’t easy, as your space had gotten smaller and smaller as the day went by. Part of you didn’t want it to get bigger though. Being in a bubble could be very pleasing, very pleasing. 

Lips twitched up at your thoughts, only deepening when you felt the soft grip of fingertips gently pinching at your calves. The same fingertips then flattened out, smoothing down and around your muscle to lightly tug.

Heavy head slowly lifting up, you took in the sight beneath you. Harry had reached behind him, his right elbow lifted awkwardly into the air as his left arm held his book above his head. His eyes remained trained to his book, as he flipped it slightly in his grip to read onto the next page.

You sighed as you watched the way his index and middle finger gently rubbed the soft fabric of your fluffy socks between his fingers, like some self soothing mechanism. 

The blissful noise alerted your husband, his head tilted back so he was looking at you from upside down. “Why’re all the way over there?” He asked softly.

You chuckled against your mug. “You’re touching me, I’m hardly in safe social distance according to advice.”

“Not touching you enough,” he spoke deeply. “Come an’ love me.”

Nose scrunching up at his tone, you reached forward as you rolled your lips into your mouth. 

“Have I got to?” You playfully questioned, feeling the tug of his hand become more forceful.

“If yer know what’s good for yer, yer will,” he groused. 

Fighting your smile, you ran your tongue against your teeth and tried to remember if you’d brushed them that morning. As disgusting as it sounded, everything was beginning to blur. Days into nights into days. 

You slipped off the couch and felt Harry watching you as he manoeuvred to his side. Laying down next to him in such a small space was in some silly way, exhilarating. The idea of being able to feel him against you; the shudder of his stomach as he laughed and the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, was everything you needed to get you through quarantine. 

The softest smile hit your face as you watched the way he wordlessly lifted his arm to welcome you to him. Sinking into the couch, while it was easy before, definitely felt easier this second time around. 

You nestled into his strong chest, feeling his shuffle underneath you and immediately begin to play with the hem of your short sleeve, his fingers lightly grazing against your skin.

Nudging your nose underneath his jawline, you enjoyed the way his stubbled gently tickled you. Harry was always warm and comforting, the right kind of strong and equally the right kind of soft. He had this way of making you feel small but in the tallest of ways. 

“Thank you,” you gently whispered when you felt him draw you close to him and saw the way he lifted his book up even high above the two of you so you could see the pages too. 

Your hand sat resting just above his belly, and you felt the way it slightly jiggled as he cleared his throat. 

He read to you, parts of a book that were realistically intimate that you found now more than anything that making up was the only option. 

“Talking to me properly now,” you mouthed against his skin after he stopped reading aloud. 

“‘S not me, it’s Bethan Roberts,” he replied, turning the book slightly in his hands so you could see the cover. 

“Well tell her I said thanks, managed to get my sulky hubby to produce more than a grunt-“

You heard him groan at your words, “Please don’t call me that.”

“What? Sulky?”

Harry turned his head slightly as he looked down his nose at you, the softest double chin forming. “No. I mean, hubby.” 

You gigged. Yes, giggled. Unattractively too. “How about my favourite handy man?”

“Darling,” he warned, not wanting you to pick the scab off a barely healing wound from the much earlier interaction. 

Lifting up, you nudged your nose against his cheek, softly sweeping against his facial hair before you located the corner of his mouth. “Not the only one who is good with their hands, you know?”

“‘S tha’ right,” he replied, fighting the laughter itching at his throat. “Think you’re talking shit.” 

“But you know I’m not,” you softly rasped, free hand bunching up at the front of Harry’s t-shirt, nails catching against the hairy trail on his stomach. “‘M trying to say I’m sorry.” 

“‘M listening, keep going,” he hummed, eyes closed and face blissfully aware he had gotten his own way. You scrunched your nose at his interjection, knowing how much he was thriving at the way you were skirting around your apology. 

“You’re such a wanker-“

The breathy laugh that left his mouth had you melting into him, the softest nudge of your lips to his accompanied by a gasped intake of breath as Harry opened his mouth wider. 

Hand pressed against his face, you enjoyed feeling the way his jaw extended as he gave you more of him. A satisfied hum lulled your kissing to an erotic stroking of tongues that had him chasing you when you lips parted.

You tilted your head back as he tried to catch your lips with his again, body jostling in the close confinement when he fallen short of his prize. 

“Darling,” he drawled, nosing along the center of your neck, your fingers clawing through the hair on the back of his head. You enjoyed the feeling of his face squashed against your skin as he muffled his protests at you not letting him have your lips and have his way. 

His playful growl when he broke free of your vice grip to his hair caused you to gleefully squeal, still thrashing to create a cat and mouse game over the sharing of kisses. 

By pressing his feet against the arm of the couch, Harry managed to create a leverage over your body. He rolled slightly, face pressed heavily into your cheek as he caught his breath.

“Darling, why’re you being like tha’? I’m trying to show I’m sorry too,” he heavily breathed. “Put it back.”

“Ask nicely,” you panted in return, hand toying above his aching buldge. 

“‘M always nice-“ you shook your head at his words. “No? ‘M sorry, sorry darlin’-“

His apology fell away from his lips as you grazed at his heavy bulge, a breathy chuckle bouncing against your already wet and messy lips. 

“Can a bloke not read a book while in quarantine in peace?”

“He can if he wants,” you spoke light, hands playing at the waistband of his underwear before sliding down and gently gripping at his bum cheek.

“Wha’ ya doin’?” 

“‘S it look like?”

“Like you’re gonna give me a handy.” 

“Harry,” you stressed his name as he chucked at his pathetic attempt at a joke. 

“Jus’ go with it,” he smiled, eyes closed and content, as he rested his head back slightly.

“Only if you help,” you started, you hand stroking gently back around to his lower abdomen. “Look at me.”

“Look at you, takin’ charge. Want me to wank in front of yer?”

“Do you want me to play with you or not?”

Harry cupped the back of your neck, letting the question die against his lips as he eagerly coaxed your mouth to open up again. Yes, he would like that very much. 

Your hand fell still at the top of his underpants as the two of you necked on, lying along the sofa like teens that had their parents house free for a whole weekend; all choked groans and light sighs as neither of you wanted to part.

When you finally came to your senses, you dropped your hand and slid it over the cotton of Harry’s underwear. He felt heavy and warm, his arousal present but you still had enough of a chance to toy with him. 

Massaging him through the cotton of his briefs, the sinful groans leaving his lips had you eager to get started. Your hand, ahead of your brain, pushed underneath the waistband as Harry choked at you to slow down.

“‘M too dry,” he mumbled, looking down at you, all soft double chin and stubble. He seemed conflicted, knowing it was a necessary step but just as eager. “Hang on-“

The shuffle of his body caused you to frown as you tried to anchor yourself to him and not fall off the side of the couch. The two of you chuckled as he felt the way you almost slid out from underneath his grip, his whispered “I‘ve got yer” almost lost against the sound of your creaking couch.

His hand slid down against the top of yours and gently squeezed against both his aching cock and your much more nimble fingers.

“You always feel so heavy in my hand, H,” you whispered sultrily. “Let me have it.”

Harry breathed deeply through his nose as you felt the way he circled his hand around your wrist and gently tugged upwards. 

You couldn’t take your eyes off him as he pressed the softest of wet kisses to the inside of your palm, his tongue, as pink as his lips, gently licked at your skin. His eyes were closed, a dip to his brows as he embodied a high level of erotic passion. 

Lips puckered and skimming up against your fingers, you felt the way Harry opened his mouth wider, soft tongue now lapping gently at the fingertips of your middle and third finger.

With half a smirk gracing your lips, you slowly lifted your eyes from his mouth, vision tracing up his features before you found his awaiting hazy stare, strong on yours. 

You were enjoying the lewd gesture and his commitment to holding your gaze, as you felty yourself flush with unnecessary embarrassment at the visual of your sodden fingers softly slipping from his lips.

The string of saliva left behind by his ardent sucking, coupled with the soft bounce of his bottom lips as you playfully pull at it with the tips of your fingers, had you incessantly mesmerised and craving to kiss.

Harry less than gracefully pushed down at your hand, as the digits of his right palm loosely became woven into the hair on the back of your head. 

Jolting forward and breathing heavily against each other’s mouths, Harry licked gently into your mouth and pushed down at his underwear using your fingers.

You giggled at his desperate movements and enjoyed the way his mouth went slack against yours as you grasped at his cock, with ease this time. Trembling breath bouncing against your lips, so satisfying for you. 

Harry was always vocal, but there was something about him as he lay squashed against you in the dimming evening light that brought out a wildness unmatched. 

The slide of your hand along his shaft eased a coiled tension within Harry as he heavily breathed against the corner of your mouth incoherent praise and subconsciously raised his hips upwards into your enclosed grip as you dared to loosen your fingers around him. 

He was greedy for it. His hand once more pulling against the back of your shirt, so the hem now no longer covered your backside but instead sat awkwardly against your lower back.

His moans became muffled as he rolled his lips into his mouth, and caused your vision to blur from the way he heavily pressed his face into yours.

“Fuck me, ‘m gonna come,” he spoke, voice deeper than before, his words lazier as they omitted from him before he gulped. “Unugh, pull me out.”’

Left hand free, Harry beat you to his request. With briefs now bunched against his thighs he tried his hardest to get them down his body, with a rub of his thighs as he gripped firmly at your thigh.

His hand slid up your smooth skin, fingers finding your bare arse cheek and slapping against your taught skin as he encouraged you to wrap your thigh over his hip.

“Gonna leave some cracking marks all over this body by the time I’m done with you,” he spoke firmly into the column of your throat. “Leaning back from me wi’out me ‘aving to tell you an’all- giving me the space I need to shag you just right.” 

He took his time to see the way you’d arched for him, head somewhat hanging over the side of the couch as he tried to figure out how to line himself up and please you the only way he knew how. 

“Where’d you want me?” he groused, eyes looking down to the pull of your hips towards each other, “Hm? Here okay? With your fingers or mine?” 

You wetly whimpered at him, scratching your nails against the skin of his naval before you pressed the palm he had previously licked flat against your centre. Grinding down against your skin, the heel of your palm bumped salaciously against your clit. 

“Dirty girl, knows what she wants,” he reached between you, the heat of your core attracting his aching cock that easily as it aligned itself to you. “Sit back on me, gently… Gentle.” 

Your fingers could feel the way his cock sunk into you, disappearing inch by inch until your hand was awkwardly squashed between the both of your pelvises. 

Somehow you managed to slide your hand around to Harry’s soft hips where you dipped your fingertips into his skin. His mouth sucked at your sternum, revelling in the feel of you having taken him all. 

“Giving me your belly,” he confirmed, “Took me all the way, doll. Want all of me, all of my apology eh.”

“God, Harry,” you keened. “Do something.”

He rocked his hips, pressing his feet into the arm of the couch to create a nice leverage and force that tensed his thighs and started a rustling sound against the couch material. 

“I am,” he stressed, softly gritting his teeth and seeing you watch him through hooded eyelids. “Don’t just lay there and take me,” he mouthed against your lips. “Give me as good as you get, yeah,” he chuckled as he felt the pressure of your pushing into him, stepping up to his request. 

“You’re my favourite lover,” he gasped.

“I better be your only lover,” you breathlessly threatened, tilting your head back. He hummed as he burrowed his head deeper into your jaw. 

“You’re the only one I shag like this,” he replied, hand sliding down when he felt your thighs start to give way. “Thighs up or ‘m stopping.”

You whined feeling a burning sensation forming in the crease of your thigh as you tried to keep yourself as closely connected to Harry as possible. “You wouldn’t,” you goaded him, the heel of your foot running against the back of his hairy thigh.

“Wouldn’t I?” He questioned, brushing back your hair that was starting to get sweaty. When you thought about it, the whole of your body was. 

The warmth radiating from each tilt and rock of your hips a little easier with formed sweat and arousal, while the feel of Harry’s hand splayed out against arse cheek, made you feel owned. 

He held you tight as he slowly moved against you, rocking back and forth as you self-soothed egos and bruised hearts. Heavy breaths mingled between kisses as he admitted his love for you and you for him. 

“Missed you today,” he murmured against your cheekbone.

“I’ve been here-“

He nudged his nose against you now, as he shook his head. “Been different, sick of me and these four walls. Beginning to climb ‘em, ain’t we? Have’ta tell me, so I can ‘ave a go at fixing it.”

“Isn’t that why we are argued to begin with, cause of your fixing-“

His lips quirked at your quickness, “Smart arse.”

Humming, you brushed his hair away, scratching by his ear and hearing his pleased purrs at your shower of affections. 

“We’re good, show me we’re good-“ you dipped your head back as he pulled you tighter against him, thrusting and creating the first clapping sound of your skin that evening. “Yes, show me we’re better than good.” 

Harry felt the way your skin was tacky against his, his hand peeling away from your bum to your thigh. A weird humidity had  clouded the lounge not usually felt in the British Spring Time, woven with the heady smell of your sex and unadulterated love.

All space was eliminated between both of your bodies as he knocked up into you, skin rubbing from the force. 

“Why didn’t you take off this bloody shirt?” You groaned, scratching your nails against the fabric, as you clung to him. 

“Cause someone could wait to have her way wi’me,” he chimed, voice light and singing. “God you want it don’t you?”

He could feel the way you were squeezing at him, releasing a guttural gasp at his questioning of you. You pulled him deeper than anyone has ever been able to do and that made him proud. Proud to call you his. His lover, his wife. His lifetime. 

“Harry, I’m gonna come,” you panted, high-pitched and positively annoying to anyone outside your shared lust. Nails again irritatingly scratched against his back, this time he was thankful he kept his t-shirt on, not wanting to deal with any stinging skin in the shower later on.

With each forceful thrust, he pressed at your arse forcing your hips into his as he pulled you into him. He knew you were fast approaching your release, a change in the way you writhed against him and produced keening whines that pulled a smugness like no other from his chest. 

Hair falling against his forehead, sweaty and unforgiving, Harry rested his forehead against yours and sucked passionately at your bruise lips and lapped at your saltiness. His focus zoned in on only you, your hitching breath on his face and tired body heavier in arms.

He knew you were spent but he was grateful for your trying. Eyes halfway shut but lips managing to entice him by forming his name faintly and loud enough for him to hear. The erotic murmur easily made a mess of him faster than your loudest moans only moments earlier.

This was yours. This was his.

No one saw you like this but him. No one saw him like this but you.

“‘M so in love wi’you,” he admitted, watching your eyes roll back into your head, body trembling as you got closer to your peak. “Giving me a good one, tha’ I don’t deserve.”

He smiled as he watched the way you rubbed against him, as he felt you squeeze around him, pulling a choked moan from him as he squeezed at the back of your neck with his right hand, and quickened the motion of his hips.

“Don’t stop,” you panted heavily, body tightening as your mouth fell open, silently. Eyes fluttering shut as you babbled his name and he changed the roll of his hips to deep nudges to get him what he wanted from your sensitivity. 

Your body went slack against him as he bottomed out inside of you, he mouthed into your skin, “Know you're tired but don’t go still on me. Love me back.”

Mewling at his breathy request, you tried to match his deep thrusts as best you could, feeling his hand against your clit. “Harry,” you whispered in a warning.

“Okay, okay, I won’t- had enough?”

“Want some more,” you hummed, even though you knew you shouldn’t, already feeling faintly sore. 

He growled, through his closed mouth, bum cheeks clenched as he felt the way you took him. Selfless and affectionate. In that moment, he knew he would never find another like you. 

And that was enough for him to give you everything he had.

And you took it all. Fingers woven through the back of his head, clinging to his head as he burrowed down into your neck. Fierce grunts muffled and chest tight, gasping for air. 

Your come down was bittersweet. The feel of Harry softening between your legs, before resting between them in a way that was wet and spent. A familiar moment. 

Harry took his time admiring you, gaze looking at your flushed out cheeks and sparkling eyes. 

The two of you lay in silence, Harry brushing back your hair before pushing himself up and leaning on his hand. Looking up at him, you swore you’d never seen anyone more handsome and comfortable within themselves.

The crack of an elastic waistband caused you to look down your bodies as you watched the way he fidgeted with his underpants that he had just pulled back on.

“Why’ve you done that. Take ‘em back off,” you poured, looking up at him wide eyed. He chuckled down at you and your demanding words. 

“‘S gone cold, y’know,” he hummed. “Won’t do so much for my ego, if you see wha’ it’s like down there when ‘m cold.”

“Does the job alright for me,” you said, pulling him down to you. 

With a chuckle, he pecked you’re lips to try and satiate you, before he pulled away. Eyes falling onto your two mugs of tea that sat within arms reach on your coffee table. 

“‘M fuckin’ parched,” he said. “Hold onto me a sec.”

Before you could think, Harry was rolling his body over yours, doing his best to keep his weight off you completely. You clenched your fingers into his shirt, watching him with wide eyes as he scooped up his mug and took a sip.

“‘S gone cold,” he murmured, before he swigged at the drink again. You looked up at him in all your double chin glory.

“No change there then. Gonna have to start rationing the tea bags cause you’re taking the piss not drinking the teas I make you.”

He dropped his gaze, eyes looking at yours. “D’ya need some tissue to clean up?”

You hummed, not wanting to make a move. 

“Gonna have to start rationing the toilet roll cause you're taking the piss-“ he didn’t get to finish his sentence before you covered his mouth with your hand.

And if he knew what was good for him he wouldn’t finish it either.

***

Shout out to my usual suspects who always put up with my bullshit @waitingfortwilight, @harryfeatgaga, @huccimermaidshirts, @haute-romance-quotidienne, @majorharry and @for-fucks-sake-h. Also, @harrysonlyangelsss and @sweetcreatureinthedark, because why not?

Big up @waitingfortwilight for the title <3

#harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles one shot #harry smut #harry fluff #harry styles fan fic #Harry Styles Fan Fiction #my writing

[geekgemsspooksandtoons]

My Spider-Man Ideas

Because I’m glad my good bro @kaijuguy19 asked me about this. I want to say and it’s not a secret I’m actually a big Spider-Man fan. And ever since last year. I wanted to make my own take on the character. And maybe I still will one day. But smaller maybe. But ever since this post I made. https://geekgemsspooksandtoons.tumblr.com/post/662905966119075840/to-be-honest-i-just-wanna-say-i-feel-like-maybe-i I think it’s best I just talk about it. 

In a way, I feel like this is what The Amazing Spider-Man series could’ve been maybe. Which is something I wanted to talk about. Despite some big criticisms towards that franchise. I don’t mind it’s place, and we can’t change history with it. And Spider-Man is in the MCU now.

This may not be all finished yet. Or put together much better. But this is practically my, “The Dark Knight” of the Spider-Man character. Yet also, I feel like maybe it’s best I don’t touch the Spider-Man franchise.

Because I feel like if fans, non fans, and whoever read this. They would honestly think, “GeekGem, please go back to The Mask franchise” because while I love Spider-Man, and the themes his character represent. Along with the many characters and stories. That have even inspired the likes of The Mask Rebirth strangely. But The Mask is maybe a series that is...maybe more suited for me...

I just wanted to say that I think people would be like, “Go back to The Mask franchise please. And never touch any Spider-Man related again” but I’m being way too harsh about myself. Now let’s begin. XD

Part 1.

I wanted to strangely make my own Spider-Man in a sense like Batman 1989. But I feel Spider-Man 2002 fills that hole. Including one of the old ideas that Peter has been Spider-Man for 5 years with no huge villains. But recently, it had gone to maybe his second year instead. Him being 19 and in college. With the origin not shown, but cleverly shown and told maybe akin to how Spectacular told it. And what I wanted Homecoming to do possibly. Or even something like that 2017 series. 

It mainly dealt with Quinten Beck’s Mysterio. And it was basically a more mature version of, “The Menace Of Mysterio” and basically, Mysterio’s first apperance. With Beck trying become a superhero by framing Spider-Man. But after he frames Spider-Man. He tries to showcase he’s even more of a hero by deciding to kill criminals. I remember a friend of mine understanding that he called him an evil(er) version of Neil Druckmann/Quentin Tarantino/Ken Levine.

Even though I was really gonna look into his story because comics had gone in more depth with him.

Other characters like Mary Jane, Gwen Stacy, Harry Osborn, Aunt May, and the employees at the Daily Bugle would be involved. With the main story of Peter recalling why he became Spider-Man in the first place. And with Mysterio practically being a foil to him. And there is the inclusion of Silver Stable being brought to take down Spider-Man. But her job has become more troubling with Mysterio. Yet I question if I still want her in this. 

Including it developed into something like the upcoming The Batman movie. With maybe Beck losing it more because the police hate the fact he’s begun killing criminals. But anyway, I wanna leave as it is. I just remembered the Silver Stable part. I wanna talk about the one I thought of the most. The one that I really wanted to do. Forgot to put Captain Stacy in this. Since I just wrote him down in part 2.

-

Part 2.

This idea is basically my The Dark Knight for Spider-Man. Like, literally. With the idea of using the Green Goblin, and really showcasing how dangerous the character is. And I really wanted to test the words, “With great power comes great responsibility”.

Think of this story if the Green Goblin replace the Joker in The Dark Knight. And you replace certain characters with Spider-Man characters. But if I recall, it’s mainly this idea of Goblin trying to teach Spider-Man the consequences of being a superhero. 

Going in line with his original version like he first appeared. This is Norman Osborn. But it’s never revealed until the end. And it’s kind of a mystery. And with Norman faking his death by a terrorist attack by the Green Goblin. With Norman before that, acting like an older and kind fatherly figure. When in reality, he’s a genuine horrible person hiding behind a persona. And with the Goblin persona, his abilities and all that. He uses the Green Goblin as an outlet to unleash who he truly is. Going with what how the 616 version of him is. There’s no split personality.

I will admit, the faking his own death thing might backfire on him if he wins. Maybe him with a back up plan that Norman was alive, and was taken hostage by the Goblin. With Norman making it look like that.

In a nutshell, the Green Goblin is practically who Norman is deep inside. And he tries to become the leader of organized crime. Until he meets Spider-Man. Where in this version, Green Goblin is like a cruel teacher, and he wants to really teach Spider-Man what it’s the huge consequences of being a superhero.

This dude is literally more like a boogeyman. He’s if Arkham Knight’s Scarecrow and Heath Ledger’s Joker were fused into one. But he‘s also basically if Ghostface was a supervillain with powers and gadgets. He has the glider, but he does other shit. Despite his original intention, he becomes Hell bent on making Spider-Man understand the responsibility of what he’s doing. 

With Green Goblin becoming more of a terrorist. That it becomes so bad. That Silver Stable is brought in likely by Captain George Stacy. That this problem with costumed people has gone too far. 

Goblin is killing members of the Wild Pack, police officers, and he’s just causing chaos to bring Spider-Man down. But when he figures out who Spider-Man is. It becomes even more personal.

At first, it seems like the story is gonna go the way of, “The Night Gwen Stacy Died”. And it’s scary because Gwen knows who Peter is, and is with him. But it’s different, with not Goblin taking an unconscious Gwen to the Brooklyn Bridge. It’s still the Brooklyn Bridge. But instead he kidnaps her, leaves her tied and gagged surrounded by a bunch of barrels that will explode. There’s no Spider-Man accidently killing Gwen with his webs. But instead...what happens is...much worse. To me personally.

Spider-Man saves Gwen, and stops the barrels from exploding. But it doesn’t go the route of, “What if Gwen Stacy had lived?” storyline. Instead, the Green Goblin’s plan wasn’t to kill Gwen. But something to destroy both her, and Peter mentally.

Instead, when Peter tries to go back to May’s house. Aunt May is literally killed by a bunch of hidden explosions. And during the same time or a little later. Captain George Stacy in his office is killed by similar hidden explosions. 

What happened is that because Goblin found out who Spider-Man was, and knew who he was dating. He felt like it was too easy to kill Gwen. But he wanted to do something possibly more extreme. Something that would still make Peter snap. But also destroy his relationship with Gwen.

He took the words from Spider-Man 2002, “The heart Osborn. First, we attack his heart” to literal heart. He kills Aunt May, and George Stacy in the most horrific way. Including destroying the home Peter grew up in. And after some time. Goblin literally calls Peter to pretty much rub it in that these are the consequences of him being Spider-Man. And that Gwen wasn’t the one he wanted to kill. With him possibly ending the conversation, talking about how it’s gonna end.

That it will end with one of them dying. But he doesn’t care. If Green Goblin kill Spider-Man, he wins. If Spider-Man kills Green Goblin, Spider-Man will be viewed maybe more as a menace. Because he likely killed Green Goblin out of pure rage. Which Goblin tried to create, he unleashes the anger that Peter tries to hold in. And with his mother figure killed in such a way, and a friend who was like a new father figure killed in a similar fashion. It’s literally a cruel test Goblin is trying to pull.

And in the end, during some stuff, with Spider-Man nearly killing Goblin like in the comics. But soon stopping himself when he learns that it was Norman all along. And it ends with Norman like the 2002 film and comics, accidently killing himself with the gilder. He never comes back, he’s truly dead.

On one point, Spider-Man stops himself from killing Goblin, and Norman kills himself instead. But the other point is something else instead. Norman is revealed to the the Green Goblin, putting Oscorp in a heap of shit, and people looking at Harry strangely. And despite comforting each other, but because of the horrible events.

Gwen decides that it’s maybe best to break up with Peter. Understanding her being with Peter seemed to have gotten her father killed. She doesn’t hate Peter. But she seems to hate Spider-Man. That persona, not Peter himself. 

-

Part 3. 

This was the most challenging one. Because I really wondered about the villains. There was Kraven with possibly a Kraven’s Last Hunt story. Hobgoblin because Peter would lose his shit at another Goblin. But also the idea of the symbiote suit being in the story. And during this whole development process from last year. Characters like Miles and Black Cat were involved. But I’m not sure now. With the idea that Miles may become a Spider-Man one day. And Black Cat being bothered by black suit Spider-Man.

Yet recently, despite it may feel overstuffed. But it’s not three villains. And it could be as long as it wants. 

This part is basically Spider-Man 2 fused with Spider-Man 3. With the big focus of the aftermath of Green Goblin's destruction upon New York City. And Peter’s grief with the loss of Aunt May, George Stacy, and Gwen deciding to leave him. Despite he fully understands and respects Gwen for leaving him. But it’s hard.

But also with Mary Jane truly becoming Peter’s true love. After the traumatic loss and Gwen leaving New York. I know and understand Gwen’s death was a huge part of changing Mary Jane as a person because they were friends with a friendly rivalry that I recall. I...wanted to make it less depressing. Despite May was the one replacing Gwen’s death. Because that seems maybe more powerful, it depends on how you see it. Mainly with the idea that May never did anything wrong, and it was such an easy kill for Goblin. It’s like Uncle Ben’s death all over again.

Yet again, the concept of part 3 is of Peter truly embracing being Spider-Man. And not letting his darkness take ahold of him after the death of the woman that raised him. With the symbiote bringing out repressed anger even more. And made worse after the death of Aunt May. 

But it’s Mary Jane that helps him overcome that darkness. And I wanna share this video that explains that more. Because I feel like that could’ve been an amazing plot point for The Amazing Spider-Man 3 if done right. 

The video is by Sevenwebheads. I loved this guy before he sadly left YouTube out of nowhere.

And with how I talked about this part. It being Spider-Man 2 fused with Spider-Man 3. The villains being Doc Ock, and Venom. And in a sense, Peter is his own villain. Because of the symbiote. 

It’s possible Doc Ock like his 2004 film version is maybe more sympathetic. And honestly more understandable as a villain than Norman Osborn. 

Quentin Beck/Mysterio is a man who is crushed by his ambitions, and being a foil to Peter’s belief about responsibility and being a superhero.

Silver Stable is a mercenary that’s more like a complex character. Yet gets into conflict with Spider-Man. Not really a villain.

The Green Goblin/Norman Osborn in this is pretty much the embodiment of pure evil. Practically enjoying what he is doing, and not caring what the consequences are. A total anti-thesis to everything Spider-Man represents. And would make other villains or anti heroes look at him like, “What the fuck is wrong with you!?”

With Doc Ock again, being more sympathetic, but still a villain. Akin to Spider-Man 2′s Alfred Molina. And Eddie Brock, who I think should have sprinkled throughout this three part story. 

With Venom and Eddie. I really like them both, I really do. But I wanted to do a version that would make sense. Instead of copying the 616 version or only the Ultimate version. Considering in a sense, the 616 Eddie isn’t much of a foil to Peter. Where the Ultimate version seems more like that in a sense.

I feel like the symbiote shouldn’t be an alien from outer space. Because that opens a whole can of worms. I seriously feel like the alien aspect doesn’t mesh with the more grounded take of Spider-Man. And it just at times makes me feel fine with the idea of Venom not being included in Spider-Man’s mythos. Despite how iconic he is.

So the symbiote’s origins would be more involved with science than from outer space. And with Eddie not only being a bit more complex. Yet he is also a foil to both Peter and Mary Jane. While you can understand him, he practically becomes more unhinged and possibly has some relations with Peter like in Ultimate and Spectacular. And when I think about, even using some elements from The Amazing Spider-Man 2 mobile game version of Eddie/Venom.

His character would be more in line with how Todd McFarlane and David Michelinie introduced the character. But while there is some dark comedy. It’s seriously more frightening. Another boogeyman in a sense like Green Goblin. With his first appearance being like in The Amazing Spider-Man issue 299. And Venom representing one of the many mistakes Spider-Man made. That being the birth of Venom and it bonding to Eddie Brock. Creating a villain that Peter feels responsible for.

I guess in a sense, I wanted to use three of Spider-Man biggest villains. Those being Green Goblin, Doc Ock, and Venom. With Mysterio and Silver Stable included. There is the idea of Carnage. Even though I liked the inclusion of Carnage in The Amazing Spider-Man 2 game. And Cletus is truly a foil to everything Peter is. I really wanted to showcase Venom as that. Still wondering about Black Cat because I love Felicia.

With this part. Considering how tough this whole trilogy is. This part is basically I guess, the light in the darkest hour. 

Where you have moments like a black suited Spider-Man nearly killing Doc Ock, and even before that, ripping off one of his arms, or maybe all of them. I’m not sure. But it’s nearly killing Doc Ock that truly makes Peter if his anger has truly gone too far. And an interaction with Mary Jane who is the biggest person who has been comforting him. Helping him through his grief, after everything that had happened with him. 

Peter chooses Mary Jane over keeping the symbiote. And because of his rejection of the symbiote, it bonds with Eddie. Who is practically a final test for Peter in this story. The dark reflection of what he could’ve became. A man despite you can feel for him. Eddie slowly became more sociopathic, became more irresponsible, and becoming more consumed with hate and anger.

The light rising above dark, and moving on with life. Because if we cling on to the past. We’ll be stuck there forever. And with Peter being a pessimist who has optimistic moments. This whole trilogy is like an endurance test of him as Spider-Man. 

I really wanted to bring to life the earlier stories of Spider-Man from Stan Lee and Steve Ditko. It’s basically a love letter to the character and his mythos. Focusing on some more darker elements like Peter’s anger issues, and other things. But also dealing with the many themes about the character. But it’s even more rough when you replace Spider-Man 2′s Doc Ock with Green Goblin. And you maybe place Doc Ock in Spider-Man 3. 

Even though I feel like Sam Raimi’s Spider-Man trilogy is maybe the perfect representation of the character. Despite all the criticisms towards Spider-Man 3. And other people’s nitpicks among many things. I feel like those films REALLY got Spider-Man right. Along with others like The Spectacular Spider-Man cartoon and others.

Think I’ve said enough. I’ll talk other stuff in the reblogs. But yeah...which I’ll say this in a reblog. Despite I don’t mind flawed films...I wished The Amazing Spider-Man franchise took a direction like this. 

#GeekGem Rambles

[koolkat9]

In the Deep (Ch. 3)

The Gift

I didn’t get much sleep that night. Ludwig’s pained eyes and deep frown flashed behind my eyes every time I closed them, leading me to spend most of my night tossing and turning. I eventually fell into a light sleep, only to be woken a couple of hours later by Francis calling me for breakfast.

“Fuck off,” I groaned, but got up nonetheless. Despite how tired I was, it was obvious my option of restful sleep was out the window. I got dressed hastily, not even bothering to tie my hair up (at least for breakfast, I’d probably have to put it up for work, but that would be future me’s problem).

“You look terrible mon ami,” Francis tsked at breakfast. I couldn’t be bothered with anything more than a grumble and instead focused the little energy I had on eating. Today’s meal was croissants (homemade most likely) with some fruit and juice. As much as I hated to admit it, Francis had a way with food.

“Trouble in paradise?” The Frenchman went on.

“I told you I’m  not  seeing anyone. At...A-At least not like you’re implying.”

A mischievous glint crossed his eye. “Oh ho? So there is someone?”

“Don’t look at me like that! He’s just a friend.”

“But there is an issue?”

I should have shut up right then and there. Why I had said so much prior is still something I don’t understand, but there was nothing I could do about it at that moment other than keep quiet. Whether it was because Ludwig's sad face was still ingrained in my mind or the pure exhaustion I was feeling, I just kept going: “I don’t know...I guess I pried a little too much and made him upset. H-He said it was okay and I apologized, but I worry I may have pushed him away. There was so much pain in his eyes when we parted ways last night.”

For the first time since I met this man, his usual smirk melted into that of a soft, comforting smile. “Perhaps an apology gift is in order?”

“What good will that do?” I bit back.

“Sometimes a physical action is better at conveying how you feel over words. If that doesn’t work, at least he should be happy with the gift.”

Part of me felt he was trying to dig at me in that second half, but I brushed it off, taking out my frustration on an unsuspecting piece of fruit. “I don’t even know what to get him.”

“Don’t worry dear Arthur. You are in good hands! I’ll take you around town to look after I finish cleaning up here.”

Great, now I was going on an outing with Francis of all people. Could this morning get any worse? Indeed it could because by the time we had cleaned up the dishes from breakfast and were heading out, it began to rain. At least Francis could provide us with the umbrella, but at the same time, it forced us too close together. He smelled stereotypically French, reeking of wine and cheese mixed with the scent of some flowery beauty product.  

I tried to focus on it, turning my gaze to the shop windows, showcasing all kinds of knickknacks and products. ‘What do you even get a merman?’ I thought as we looked over a particular display of books, all of which piqued my own interest. Could he even read? Even if he could, he spent most of his time underwater so a book would not work. Now that I was thinking about it, that crossed off a whole bunch of items: clothing, flowers, blankets, stuffed animals, all out of the question. Every store we went into seemed to only lead to dead ends.

Eventually, we had to stop for lunch empty-handed. Francis took me to a local pub in the town square where he ordered us some potato-based dish, though I was too distracted to catch the actual name. “This is coming out of your paycheck,” He warned, “it's the least you could do for me after all our wild goose chasing today.”

“You’re the bastard who suggested this in the first place.”

“I didn’t realize how troublesome it would be. Usually, you get them flowers or chocolates and then you make up, but your lover seems to hate everything.”

There he was going again, calling Ludwig my ‘lover.’ My cheeks turned red at the statement, not helping my case. “For the millionth time, he’s  not  my lover.”

“Whatever it is, this seems like a lost cause.” For the first time since meeting him, a tired frown replaced his usual cheeriness. It didn’t fit him even though it often annoyed me.

Though I was uncomfortable, I wasn’t good and comforting people (especially those I barely know), so I let my gaze wander to the window. A group of children were chasing each other around the fountain while their mothers talked amongst themselves. Other couples and families were walking from store to store, mostly just browsing in the windows. It was calming looking at the mundaneness of it all while my life was turning into anything but. As I scanned the square, I noticed a jewelry shop just across the way from us and something clicked. Ludwig seemed to like sparkly items considering how much he took to the pendant.

“I think I found something,” I said, turning back to Francis. He gave me a quizzical look, but nonetheless, requested for the bill, paid, and we were on our way.

I led him to the shop I had spotted, admiring the window display once we were there. Something particular caught my eye, a beautiful silver chain with light blue jewels hanging from it. It appeared to be a bracelet of some sort. This was it, this was the gift. It was shiny, blue like Ludwig’s eyes and scales, absolutely perfect.

“You’ve got expensive tastes mon ami...or I guess it's more of this mysterious man. But by the look on your face, it seems perfect.”

I hadn’t even realized I had been smiling. Feeling suddenly exposed, I gave an awkward cough and tried to cover my tracks. “W-Well yes. It looks just like his eyes. I-I’m just...yeah...um...going to go in and buy it. Y-You, don’t have to wait up for me.” So much for covering my tracks. Without another word, I made my way into the shop, ignoring whatever tease came out of that damn Frenchman’s mouth.

---

It wasn’t long before I was back at the inn. Francis gave me the rest of the day off, so I retreated to my room for some rest before going out to meet Ludwig. As I collapsed onto my bed, I grabbed my purchase from the nightstand. Taking the bracelet from the box, I lifted it above my head, allowing it to sparkle in the sun. Ludwig’s scales were far more beautiful, shining even brighter than any jewel, but this would have to do. At some point, my eyes began feeling heavy, my exhaustion returning once everything had calmed down. It wasn’t long before I had fallen asleep.

The sun had almost set by the time I got up. I blinked in a daze before realizing I was late to meeting Ludwig. “Fuck, Fuck, Fuck” I angrily whispered to myself as I collected my things, hoping Ludwig had waited up for me.

When I finally got there I found our spot deserted. “God damn it,” I sighed, taking a seat in defeat. At least I could watch the end of the sunset and admire the waves. Like for most of the day, luck was not on my side as dark clouds began rolling in and the breeze picked up. With a sigh, I got up and began making my way back to the beach. As I walked, the weather only seemed to get worse, especially the wind that was whipping me every which way. Like history repeating itself, a particularly strong gust of wind sent me crashing into the water.

Of course, I had been blown in in a deep area, leaving me once again flailing unsuccessfully to keep my head above the water (at least the waves weren’t as bad as last time). As I became more and more desperate and fear took hold I surprisingly found myself shouting for Ludwig. He probably wasn’t around or able to hear me above the storm that was setting in, but he was my best option for help at this point. Soon the cold and exhaustion was getting to me and my world was slowly becoming dark, but before I passed out I heard the faint call of my name.

---

I was back in my room at the inn when I came to. My mind was fuzzy and everything felt sedately warm. It was as if I was wrapped in a soft flame that didn’t burn, but instead wrapped me in a comforting grasp. Although I felt a strange weight around my waist, I paid it no mind as my head was pounding and my nose stuffy. I felt miserable so when sleep began to tug at me once more, I was content to accept it. That was until I felt something move beside me. I immediately shot up, spooking Ludwig who was laying beside me.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I screeched. When I noticed I was naked, I immediately pulled the covers up to my chest.

Ludwig’s eyes went wide and his cheeks went red. “I-I’m sorry...I just...your friend said this would help.”

“What?” My scowl deepened when I realized who had put him up to it. “That damn frog,” I seethed, though more to myself than Ludwig.

“I’m sorry. You were freezing...I-I’ll just go,” Ludwig blabbered as he clumsily untangled himself from the sheets and got out of bed.

“Wait...H-How are you…” My mind had finally woken up enough, realizing Ludwig was here, on land, without a tail or scales.

“Oh...I never mentioned we could become human?”

“No.”

“Oh...uh...well I can. I don’t usually, but you were shaking so much so I knew I had to get you home..er… where you were staying so I took it upon myself to get you here. It wasn’t easy, but...shoot I’m rambling aren’t I?”

My gaze softened. Ludwig was far sweeter than any man I had ever met. I couldn’t stay angry with him even if we woke up in a...compromising position (if anything it was Francis’ fault who told him to do it). “So...what exactly happened this time?”

“Well, there was a storm. I found you just as you were about to go under, so I immediately grabbed you. When I got you to shore you were freezing and… I-I didn’t know what else to do so I grabbed my spare clothes and began searching for the inn. That blond man was standing at the door and he recognized you and urged me to bring you inside. He explained I had to get you out of your wet clothes and under the blanket. Th-That’s when he suggested for me to lay beside you...t-too warm you up. I’m sorry again for that. And now we’re here.”

“Well, I-I suppose a thank you is in order,” I said, laying back down on the bed. My wooziness was finally catching up to me. It was clear I was starting to come down with a cold.

Ludwig loomed over me, an unreadable look on his face. “Is there anything else you need?”

“Some water would be nice. Why don’t you go ask Francis.”

He gave me a small nod and made his way to the door. “Oh, Arthur. By the way, that box you were holding onto so tightly is just on your nightstand.”

“Oh.” I looked over to see that velvety, blue box that held Ludwig’s gift perched safely on the table beside my head. “Thank you. For everything”

“Anytime.”

As the door closed, I snuggled into the blankets once more, still chilled either from the ordeal, my cold, or both. Tomorrow for sure I would give him his gift. Right now I was tired and sick, not wanting to do much more than sleep. However, it did not come so easy as the bed felt empty without Ludwig there and that warm, comforting feeling seemed to have gone with him. But sooner or later, my eyes closed and the lingering feeling of Ludwig’s embrace lulled me to sleep.

Ch. 2

Ch. 4

#hetalia #hws #gereng #engger #geruk #mermaid au #hws germany #hws england #mermaid!ludwig #privateer!arthur #fanfiction #hetalia fanfiction

[celosiaa]

Yo Connor! I made a post a while back about this but imagine s1 archives gang: Sasha and Tim wanna play hooky to go drinking so they pretend to be sick to get sent home early. But their work gets piled onto poor poor Martin whos starting to come down with something. Cut to Tim and Sasha coming back to work to find a super sick and overworked Martin (my post has diff situations that they could come back to but basically it’s all “Martin is completely miserable”)

~ ineedmysickfix

Hello friend!!!!! Apologies for the delay!! I hope you’ll like this all the same :)

CW nausea

 “Oh, Sasha—you’re gonna hate me,” Tim drawls dramatically, draping an arm around her shoulders, causing them both to stagger. “You’re absolutely going to hate me.”

“Don’t tell me—ha! Tim—”

Sasha is broken off by a sudden, if sloppy, kiss to her cheek, the momentum of it nearly taking them both to the ground as they stumble on slightly-intoxicated legs. Well—perhaps more than slightly, after all.  It is later, much later than they had intended to be out, and dark has fully settled over the still-bustling London landscape as they attempt to make their way back to the Tube station from the pub.

Where they had been playing hooky. Gloriously.

It is a bit pitiful, how gullible their mess of a friend currently playing at being their boss could be. Shamefully, upon reflection, Sasha recalls Jon’s worried response that afternoon to the torrent of falsified coughs and sneezes he had heard from his office, before insisting that the two of them go home to rest. And to “not infect anyone else,” of course—tacked on in some feeble attempt not to care.

And go home, they had—if you can call a pub a home, that is. While it was not exactly buzzing with customers at the mid-afternoon, it had been a nice place to camp out for the day and enjoy each other’s company. Though they had lamented not letting Martin in on the plan—even if it was nice to have a evening just for themselves, something hadn’t felt right about leaving him behind. Not with the ever-growing tower of files on his desk, building up over the last week in a bit of an alarming fashion.

Sending out a quick thought for him as they walk, Sasha turns her attention back to Tim, linking her arm with his with a poorly-hidden smile.

“What have you done this time, Stoker? What else could there possibly be to make me want to kill you even more?”

“Even more? After I serenaded you at karaoke?”

“Especially after you serenaded me at karaoke,” she replies, pulling him just a little bit closer. “Bold move, especially knowing I’ve got a knife on me.”

“Yeah, a pocket knife,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Which we might have to use to break back into the Institute, by the way.”

“Tim, you didn’t!”

Groaning in dismay, Sasha stops their pace abruptly, searching his face for any sign of a joke—tragically, finding none.

“Tim. Hey, Tim.”

She grabs both sides of his face, pulling his forehead to rest against her own.

“Look me in the eyes and tell me you didn’t forget your keys again.”

A nervous swallow, a flick away of his eyes—before a poorly-hidden smile laces his tone.

“I did not…do this thing.”

“TIM!”

“Alright, alright!! I may have!” he laughs as she drops her hands from his face, in favor of using them to push back against his chest. “But don’t worry! There’s no way even Jon is still there. Pretty sure he was heading home to rest after Salat al-Jumu’ah—said he hurt his knee, and he has PT in the morning.”

“Jon was going home?” Sasha asks in disbelief, her face showcasing the wild array of thoughts flitting through her mind. “First of all—concerning. Second of all—do you mean to tell me that we left poor Martin there all on his own?”

“He’s fine, Sasha,” Tim assures, throwing an arm around her to keep them walking. “Martin’s an adult, he knows he can leave any time he damn well pleases. Especially since Jon isn’t there.”

“Well, yeah, but—I dunno, he just seemed…off this week,” she replies worriedly, twisting a finger around her long locks.”

“He’s fine. We’ll make it up to him on Monday, or something.”

“Right,” Sasha sighs, leaning a bit further into his warmth. “You’re right, we can—we can get him some of that good tea that he likes, the expensive kind.”

“Alright, rich kid.”

“Shut it.”

With another peck to the cheek, both silly and giddy, they continue on their way back to the Institute—neither too displeased at having the other so close.

—

Work.

Just keep working.

Just focus.

Cold, Martin feels the cold of the archives seeping deeper into his bones with every moment that passes. Or is it heat? Too hot, suffocating, can barely catch a comfortable breath before the coughing starts up again, pounding against his skull and leaving him exhausted. Surely it hadn’t been this bad this morning—his therapist’s voice rings out in his mind, telling him it’s alright to go home, that he ought not have come in anyway—but he does not listen. Cannot listen, not with Jon out and in pain, and Tim and Sasha both out sick.

No—this was his job. Just has to push through, pick up the slack, keep going.

Someone has to.

For as much as Martin tries to tell himself that he’s not ill, that he never gets ill, he knows it’s all a lie. Sleep has come in sparse patches for him these past few weeks—and that has left him vulnerable to what he is now fairly certain is a nasty case of flu. It’s just been so much recently, with his mum intermittently calling him from the care home in Devon, and not answering the phone when he returns her calls. Though he would never want to think so poorly of his own mother—ungrateful, cruel, sad excuse for a son—he cannot help but have the thought that she’s doing this on purpose, calling him when she knows he’s busy—

Stop it.

Selfish.

Cruel.

Focus.

The stacks of files in the corners of his vision, piled so high he can barely see his surroundings beyond his desk, very nearly manage to draw out the tears Martin has so desperately been trying to hold back over the past—however long it’s been, now. Overwhelmed, he’s overwhelmed and wants nothing more than just to sleep. But Jon. Jon needs this done, Tim and Sasha need to rest—none of them need to have a miserable next week if he can just. Focus. Now.

Sniffing back against the congestion sitting heavy in his sinuses, Martin steels himself as well as he can, and drags his attention back to the piles and piles of nightmares before him.

—

As soon as they found the door to the archives unlocked, Sasha knew something was wrong.

Jon was so strangely protective of the place; always kept such a careful watch on it that it was unfathomable for him to not make certain that everything was locked, and the lights turned out at the end of each day. Surely, even if Martin had been the last one there, surely Jon would have called several times to ensure he would do the same—possibly even dragging himself back over the the dusty old basement, just to make sure.

And yet—here they are. Standing before the unlocked door to the archives.

“Can’t be good,” says Tim, running a hand anxiously down his beard.

“Not at all,” Sasha replies at once, voice low as she carefully pushes the door open.

The office beyond is almost entirely darkened, corners obscured by shadows and cobwebs and god knows what else down here. Only the light from a single lamp illuminates a desk—messy, piled high with stacks of files and reference volumes, some spilled over and scattered onto the floor. Martin’s desk. And Martin, leaning heavily against it.

Though she cannot see his face where it has been propped heavily between both of his hands, Sasha immediately takes note of of the blanket he’s wrapped himself tightly with, the bin by his feet overflowing with tissues, the row of mugs set on the floor to make room for more files. The way one has been tipped over, creating a dark spot on the carpet where it had spilled its contents, but Martin has not seemed to notice. A rarity—and a concerning one at that, for certain.

Exchanging a quick glance with Tim, who looks very much as worried as she feels, Sasha steps a bit forward, clearing her throat before calling gently to him.

“Martin? You alright, love?”

The impact is immediate—clearly, he had not heard them come in, nor seen their shadows stretching across the light of his lamp. For he jumps bodily in his seat, tipping it back with such a heavy creak that Sasha is certain it will send him to the floor completely. A gasp, loud and deep, as his wild, fever-glassed eyes meet theirs—before it turns into a fit of harsh, painful hacks that he buries hastily in what appears to be his last remaining tissue.

“Aw, Marto,” Tim says sympathetically as he strides over to him, rubbing a hand over his back as the coughing continues, Sasha following suit to grab a box of tissues from her own desk, and set it in front of him.

“Sorry, m’sorry,” he croaks, voice weathered and broken in the wake of his fit.

“Dunno what you’re talking about, mate,” Tim says softly, slipping a hand over Martin’s forehead—evidently not liking the heat he finds there, if his grimace is anything to go by. “How long have you been ill? You seemed alright this morning.”

“M’fine, Tim,” he mutters back, sniffing heavily and reaching for the new box of tissues. “Thanks, Sash—”

A sudden look of horror washes over his face as he meets her eyes, letting out a shallow gasp and covering his mouth with one hand.

“Wait, you’re—you’re ill, you’re both ill, you need these—”

“We’re not ill, Martin,” Sasha soothes at once, cursing both herself and Tim for going through with what was clearly a terrible idea.

“You’re not?”

“We wanted to skive off work,” Tim echoes, pulling Martin’s blanket back up from where it had slipped off his shaking shoulders. “We…we went out to the pub instead.”

“Oh,” is the only soft response that comes from him, as he drops his eyes back to the statement in front of him—and the guilt welling up inside Sasha is enough to break her heart.

“We would never have done that if we had known you were actually ill,” she clarifies rapidly. “We should have…we should have said. Shouldn’t have done that at all, really.”

“Yeah. Sash is right, we’re really sorry, Martin,” says Tim, wincing as the terrible coughing starts up once again, doubling him forward—and this time, he does not straighten back up.

“Oh,” he says again, miserably, squeezing his eyes shut against the apparent dizziness—enough to send Tim reaching for the empty bin from beneath his own desk, just in case.

“You alright?” asks Sasha, setting a bracing hand against his hunched shoulders.

It takes a few moments for him to reply this time, as he breathes as deeply as possible for a bit—still altogether too shallow, in Sasha’s opinion. She can hear the hitching at the back of his throat, knows that he’s trying so hard to keep from coughing again, whether for their sake or to avoid worsening the nausea, she can’t be sure.

“M’alright. Sorry,” he apologizes again, shivering hard as he does, pulling the blanket just a bit tighter around himself and sniffling. “Shouldn’t be here, you’ll probably catch it.”

“You shouldn’t be here, love,” Sasha counters, catching Tim’s gaze and jerking her head toward the breakroom—and he heads in that direction at once. “We’re going to get some water and medicine into you, and then you’re going straight home.”

“Can’t,” he whispers in return, shaking his head against the fresh tears that have sprung into his eyes, breaking Sasha’s heart to bits again. “There’s so much—so much to do, and Jon—Jon’s not well, and you—well, I suppose you’re—you’re not, heh—”

“Martin,” she says, bending crouching down to the level of his eyeline. “You do not need to be here. You do not need to do all this work yourself—if it makes you feel better, Tim and I can get some of this done over the weekend. But I highly doubt even Jon would ask you to do all of this today.”

“He—he didn’t.”

And now here come the tears, spilling hot over his cheeks, unable to be held back in with the stress the fever wracks through his body.

“I’ve—I’ve gotten so behind, this is almost a week’s worth of work, I’ve just been—I’ve not been focused, I can’t—god, I’m sorry—”

“It’s alright, Martin,” Sasha soothes, handing him another tissue which he uses to swipe at his streaming eyes and nose. “There’s something else going on, isn’t there?”

Squeezing his eyes shut again, tears leaking from beneath his lashes, Martin nods—burying his face in his hands, before Sasha wraps her arms around him.

“It’s alright, darling. Just hush, I’ve got you.”

It is to this sight that Tim arrives back from the break room, armed with medicine and a thermometer and a glass of water. Upon seeing them, his face falls in sorrow—reluctant to interrupt the stillness of the moment—before the whistling of the electric kettle from the breakroom causes Martin to pick up his head, turning his head toward the noise only to find Tim frozen in the doorway.

“Oh—thank you, that’s—” he pauses for a moment to cough behind closed lips, swiping at his eyes as he does so. “That’s really kind, I’m—I’m alright. I’m sure it’s just the flu, or something.”

“Don’t really think there’s such a thing as ‘just’ the flu, Marto,” Tim says, rolling his eyes with a smile—which, to Sasha’s immense relief, Martin returns, if still a bit watery.

“Yeah, Martin—let’s get you some meds, and get you home,” Sasha insists. “I’ll go fetch you some tea as well. Can’t send you home without something warm in your stomach.”

“I—thank you, really,” he beams, accepting the pills from Tim with his own, rather more shaky hands. “You’re—that’s really kind.”

“It’s nothing at all, Martin,” she replies at once, relieved to see him swallow the pills readily. “Let’s get you warm, and get you home.”

#tma #the magnus archives #tma fic #tma sickfic #cw nausea #my writing

[yikesharringrove]

Nb model Steve? Maybe Billy is a photographer who's known for his artsy and alternative photos and Steve is an up and coming model who has to deal with a lot of misgendering in the industry? But Billy is one of the first photographers who really respects their pronouns and what he's comfortable wearing

Read on Ao3

-

Steve didn’t know what to expect when they got on location.

They loved being a model, felt so comfortable in front of a camera, had even gotten to do some runway work for New York Fashion Week this year.

But the issue, is that they only get work as a male model, where they’re expected to be hyper masculine and all macho.

It’s the fucking worst.

But their agent had gotten them this shoot, promised that it wouldn’t be like the last one, or the one before that, or the one before that.

They took a deep breath before entering the building.

“Hi, Steve Harrington, checking in.” The woman smiled at them, tapping on her phone.

“Great, let’s take you through to hair and makeup. Mr. Hargrove will want to speak with you before you begin.” She led Steve through to the warehouse.

Steve had never worked with Billy Hargrove before, but his name preceded him. He was known for beautiful shoots with models way beyond Steve’s recognition and caliber. Shooting campaigns for high end designers.

“So, I was never informed what campaign this is for.”

“This is for Mr. Hargrove’s personal portfolio. He chooses to freelance various projects he believes in.”

“Wait so, this is like, just for him?” She pulled Steve aside.

“He’s putting together an art book, but do not tell anyone you heard that. He’s going to announce it in a few months. Limited run, all that. You’ll be getting a share. He feels paying models is extremely important.” Steve just nodded, they’re eyes big.

“Sorry, how did I end up on this project?”

“Oh, Mr. Hargrove is a fan of your work. Asked for you by name.”

Steve was in hair and make up now, being ushered into a tall chair. The woman, probably Mr. Hargrove’s assistant, took off again.

Steve closed their eyes, figured they would be getting a light foundation, maybe some contour to sharpen their jaw, that kinda thing.

They zoned out, just let the makeup artists do their work.

“Steve Harrington. Good to meet you.” Steve opened their eyes, was met with The Billy Hargrove.

“Mr. Hargrove, it’s an honor to meet you. I’ve a very big fan of your work, especially on the most recent Dior campaign, those images were beautiful.”

“Oh, call me Billy. And I loved your work with Jonathan Byers. I think that was about three years ago, now? I’ve been trying to make arrangements to work with you since those were published.”

Steve furrowed their brows. Those pictures featured Steve in a lot of makeup, and lingerie in most of them. Billy was studying their face.

“Have you done their hair yet?” Steve’s eyes were wide.

That was the first time they hadn’t been misgendered on a job.

“No, Mr. Hargrove.”

“If you can make it look like they just have it now, I like the kinda of, wild thing that’s happening. And maybe make the gold a little bolder. I really like the look.”

Steve hadn’t washed their hair in a few days, usually the hair artists would wash it before they began anyway.

Billy smiled at them one last time before leaving again, and Steve got a look at themself in the mirror.

Their eye makeup was a pretty ballet pink, gold glitter packed onto their eyelids. Their face was contoured to look feminine, the way the did their own makeup.

When they finished with hair and makeup, they met Billy in wardrobe.

He was flicking through a rack of clothes.

“Hey! You look great.” Steve flushed.

“So, what are you comfortable in? I’m looking to explore humanity in all forms. I’m working with artists that inspire me through their realities. You’re pretty much the top of that list.”

“Wait, I’m not following.”

“Your gender identity and expression, the way you wear your body in the most authentic way possible. I’ve seen your work. Those images with Byers are so beautiful, so much moreso than anything else I’ve seen of yours. Your confidence exuded through the image more than anything I’ve ever seen. It was inspiring.”

“So, you’re gonna let me do this my way?”

“Of course. I’m showcasing you, whatever that means.” Steve nodded at him once.

They began rifling through the clothes, making a pile of things they liked, what they thought would look good with the makeup.

“And I’m pretty much comfortable with anything.” Billy raised one eyebrow.

“Nudity?”

“If you want.”

“Could that cause you any dysphoria, though?” Steve blinked at him.

“Jesus, that’s the first time I’ve ever been asked that on a shoot.” Billy’s smile slipped.

“Seriously?” Steve shrugged. “Not even with Byers?”

“Well, I mean, that doesn’t count. We’ve known each other since we were kids, and I was just getting into modelling, and him into photography, so that was kind of to build up both of our portfolios at the time. I did my own hair, makeup and costuming.” Billy raised one eyebrow.

“But apart from working with a close friend, you’ve never been asked about dysphoria.” Billy said it as a statement, like he was trying to wrap his head around the idea.

“And it’s funny, because I usually get dysphoric in menswear shoots, but most people hire me as a male model.”

“Jesus, I’m sorry, Steve.” They shrugged.

“It is what it is. Not a lot of gender noncomforming or just straight up not cis models in the mainstream. There’s a few, don’t get me wrong, but not many, and very few household names. I just figured I need to be versatile for now, and eventually, I’ll have enough of career I can start making demands. Taking up space.”

“Still, it sucks that you gotta pick and choose like that. You should be able to just, do what you want.”

“That’s easy to say, mister photographer.” Billy smiled bashfully. “Look, thank you for taking time to research me and know what I’m all about. This experience has already been a lot better than most of my other shoots.” Billy clapped them on the shoulder.

“Hey, you’re my muse. I’m just excited to be working with you. I’ll leave you to get changed, we’ve got some wardrobe assistants standing by if you need help.” He swept out of the curtained off area.

Steve decided to begin with a light blue slip dress, matching silk panties.

They had help getting into the gold chunky heels, and made a bit of a show of walking those few feet to set.

Billy was staring darkly.

“You look beautiful.” Steve grinned at him, taking a seat on the white settee.

Billy was very easy to work with.

He let Steve take some liberties, try a few things out, and would direct from there, telling Steve how to adjust their body.

Steve felt in control, felt beautiful and confident. 

Steve had taken off the slip, was posing in just the blue panties, now sitting on a windowsill, the New York skyline behind them.

Steve stood up, and dropped the little panties, kicking them away. Billy nodded, still looking behind the camera.

“Beautiful, Steve.”

They stood in nothing but the heels, had been given a piece of fabric to drape around their body, or not if they so pleased. Steve held it aloft, looking at the camera with their best bitchy I’m above you look.

Billy had them do the same with six other outfits, slowly strip out of them throughout the shoot.

The set was closed, only a handful of people in the room with them as Steve languished around.

Billy nearly lost his damn mind at an image of Steve, their back to the camera, in nothing but red pumps, sitting in a middle split on the windowsill.

“You’re a fucking genius, Stevie. Gorgeous!”

It was hours before the shoot had finished, and Steve was given a plush robe and a latte.

“Steve.” Billy jerked his head towards the table in the corner, Billy’s cameras and laptop sitting on top of it.

Billy pulled another chair up to the table, let Steve sit on the first one.

“I just want to go over the shoot with you. You can pick the shots you like the most, and we can see which ones are right for my project. I’m publishing an art book. I’m sure Miranda already told you, she tells fucking everyone.” He had loaded the images from the day onto the laptop.

They clicked through them, sitting just the two of them, everyone already having left for home.

“Oh, wow.” Billy had stopped on an image of Steve with the large piece of gauzy fabric. It was draped over their shoulder, put hung to the floor, doing nothing to cover their body. “Look at your face. This is what I was taking about. The confidence, you just exude don’t fuck with me energy. It’s beautiful.”

Billy would often do that, point out minute details in Steve’s body language or facial expressions and explain the ways they were captivating.

And it made Steve feel captivating.

“You’re really beautiful, you know that?” Steve was far too aware of how close Billy’s face was to theirs.

“I really felt it today. Thank you.”

“You are ethereal. I’m not kidding.” Billy’s eyes flicked down to their lips. “Can I kiss you?”

“Please.”

Steve sighed when Billy kissed them, just a light press of his lips to theirs.

“I’d like to see you again. Cook you dinner? Or take you out? You pick.” Steve sat back.

“Like a date?”

“Yes.”

“You wanna date me?”

“Yes.”

“Is that why you wanted to work with me?”

“I wanted to work with you because you are so beautiful it’s inspiring. I want to date you because on top of all that, you’re kind, and sweet, and driven.”

“Um, yeah, then. I’ll go on a date with you.” Billy beamed. “But I don’t put out on the first date, and just because you photographed me naked does not mean you get to fuck me anytime soon.”

“Oh, of course.” He looked serious. It made Steve melt a little.

“And I’d love it if you cooked for me.”

“Then my place. Friday. Seven o’clock. Wear something nice. I may not be able to resist photographing you.”

“Yeah, yeah, Sweet Talker. I’m allergic to bell peppers and I think mushrooms are gross, so steer clear.”

“Drat. There goes my idea for mushroom stuffed bell peppers.”

“Darn. Looks like we can’t go out, then.” Billy laughed.

“I’ll text you my address. And my house will be properly de-mushroom and bell peppered for you.” Steve smiled.

“I appreciate it.”

#yikes writes #lemon zest #steve harrington #billy hargrove #steve harrington x billy hargrove #billy hargrove x steve harrington #harringrove #harringrove fic #harringrove ficlet #harringrove drabble #nonbinary!steve #nonbinary steve harrington #nonbinary!steve harrington #nonbinary steve #nb steve harrington #nb steve #nb!steve #nb!steve harrington

[goneseriesanalysis]

Astrid Ellison

So here are my opinions on Astrid Ellison from book 1. Astrid was the character on which my opinion changed the most, which is why it’s taken me so long to get my thoughts together. Sorry for the length again but it seems I have a talent for ✨rambling✨

Spoilers for Gone by Michael Grant down below

Original Opinion: Astrid was one of my least favourite characters. I remember finding her irritating and self-righteous and honestly couldn’t think of a single good thing to say about her.

New Opinion: Astrid was my favourite character in this book. She had moments where I found her slightly irritating - but I think that was Michael struggling to right a smart character more than anything else. She was so kind and brave and not at all like the emotionless and manipulative girl that I remember hating at the grand age of 14. 

1.) Astrid’s appearance - Astrid is one of the better described characters in Gone. In the first chapter we find out that she “had shoulder-length blonde hair, and liked to wear starched white short-sleeved blouses that never failed to catch Sam’s eye.” This description immediately establishes her as Sam’s love interest, from her being the first character to get a proper description to Sam’s clear infatuation with her. This is perhaps one of the reasons why I’m not a huge fan of their relationship – it was obvious from page 3 that they were going to end up together.  We get three other main descriptions of Astrid throughout the book that really stood out to me:

“Her normally sharp, discerning blue eyes were wide, with way too much white showing” – Chapter 1

“She sat in the big white wicker rocker with her feet propped up on the railing. Her bare legs were blazing white in the sunshine.” – Chapter 20

“The starched white blouses of the pre-FAYZ had given way to t-shirts” – Chapter 28

What really stood out to me in these descriptions is the repeated use of the colour white. Now, in religion white is symbolic of faith, innocence and sacrifice, all of which really seem to fit the characterisation of Astrid. She has a lot of faith in the beginning, not only in God but also in herself. She is relatively confident in who she is and in her place in the world. As the book continues, however, she begins to lose this faith. As she sacrifices more of her time to the care of Little Pete (I really don’t like how Michael constantly treated him as a burden but that is a topic for another post), she becomes less and less confident in her faith and begins to resent what she has become. 

As for Astrid’s innocence, I believe this is more of an insight into how Sam views her as opposed to how she actually is. Astrid is intelligent and brave and caring (although a lot of the time I think she struggles to show it) – but is she innocent?? I don’t think so, at least not in the traditional sense. She has grown up as a parent, been forced to mature faster than other children her age. She is Little Pete’s constant defender, and I think in this way Sam underestimates her. As the book continues, he begins to see this, with her staple white blouses transforming into t-shirts, he begins to see her for who she is. 

2.) Astrid’s Personality and Character - Aside from Astrid’s intelligence and religious beliefs, Astrid has a very well-rounded personality. She is brave and kind-hearted but seems somewhat socially inept, meaning that the softer side of her personality is often hidden by her cool exterior. (I think there is a possibility that Astrid is autistic-coded but I don’t know enough about the topic to develop this point past mere observation). She takes on the role of a mother to Little Pete and this calmer, kinder, and more protective side of Astrid is often shown in small moments throughout the books. Astrid is the first person to offer comfort to Quinn when he realises his parents are missing, and it is only once she does this that Quinn finally allows himself to fall apart (Chapter 2). She places a hand on his shoulder and for the first night is the one who hears out Quinn’s wild theories, instead of shooting them down (cough cough Sam). 

Her relationship with Little Pete is a complicated one. While she often seems resentful about her new position as a guardian, it feels like her resentment towards Little Pete is a way for her to mask her anger at things that are beyond her control. She is furious that the FAYZ has left her without parents, and is even more furious because she can’t truly understand why it has happened. So, to stop these feelings of helplessness, she targets her resentment towards the person she is closest do (as most of us unfortunately do when we feel this way). But despite her anger, her unconditional love always wins out. And this is one of the things I absolutely adored about her when re-reading. Despite her often feeling trapped by her new role in Little Pete’s life, she is still willing to distance herself from Sam, Edilio and Quinn (who are, as far as we know, the closest thing she has to friends) in order to keep him safe. She realises that Little Pete caused the FAYZ in chapter 11 and, even when Sam confronts her, her first move is to defend LP – she is not concerned with what they think of her, only with the safety of her brother. 

Further on in the book, after Drake forces her to call Little Pete a slur, she is horrified with herself. She gives almost no thought to the pain she went through stating that “now she was far more angry at herself than she had ever been at him.” I think this really just shows how devoted Astrid is to her brother and, when you remember that she is only 14 it really is amazing how strong she forces herself to be for him. I began to notice on this read through just how much she neglects her own emotions and wellbeing in favour of protecting others (she even shields LP with her own body when the church collapses on top of them and we get no indication as to how injured SHE is). Once again her thoughts are only on her brother. While I wish she had made more of an effort to communicate with Little Pete in a way that he could understand (the few times she does this in the book, he does respond well and it would have been interesting to develop this side of their relationship more, rather than just the one sided protector/protected dynamic), when you think about her age and the trauma that she must be experiencing, I think she does exceptionally well to stay so kind, patient and collected for the majority of the time.

 One thing that really surprised me the most when revisiting Astrid’s character was her immense bravery. This is a huge part of her character that I had completely forgotten about, leading me to remember her as little more than a typical damsel in distress. While she often uses her intelligence as a defence mechanism, such as in Chapter 15 when she stands up to Diana, in times when a verbal smack down is inappropriate, she is perfectly willing to put herself in danger in order to protect those that she cares about. We first see this in chapter 10 when she breaks up the fight on the highway. We see it again when Panda and Quinn attack Little Pete, with one of my favourite quotes of the whole book, “Did you throw a rock at my brother?’ Astrid yelled. Fearless in her outrage.” It reminds me so much of the Frankenstein quote “I am fearless and therefore powerful” and was the point in the book where my past prejudices got completely wiped away and were replaced by my new love for her. She cares so much about people, and gets hardly any recognition for it. I just want to give her a hug 😥

Another thing I noticed about Astrid, which I thinks fit’s in really well with the idea of her being this awkward social outcast (I mean did she even have any friends before??) is that while many pop culture references are made by a variety of characters, Astrid makes multiple references to historical figures:

“Patrick was named for Patrick Star, the not-very-bright character on Spongebob” – Lana’s pov Chapter 2

“It’s like a roadrunner cartoon” – Quinn Chapter 9

“I’ll bet you’re one of those brainy Lisa Simpson types” – Diana Chapter 14

“Let me guess, you’re secretly a wizard who was raised by muggles.” – Sam Chapter 21

“And this isn’t exactly the time for me to consult Yoda on how to use my power” – Sam Chapter 26

“..an ornate, heavy iron thing that Coates kids joked was the tenth Nazgul” – Jack’s pov Chapter 32

“Too bad Dr Phil’s not around.” – Diana 39

VS

“The only thing we have to fear is fear itself” – Astrid Chapter 5

“To understand this you’d have to be Einstein or Heisenburg or Feynman, on that level” – Astrid Chapter 13

“Power corrupts, absolute power corrupts absolutely. I forgot who said it.” – Astrid Chapter 17

I don’t have much else to say about this other than I find it quite interesting and I think it perfectly highlights how Astrid never quite fits in, no matter how hard she tries. 

3.) Astrid’s Intelligence - Astrid’s intelligence is mainly used for world building throughout the first book. It is from Astrid that we learn the full story of the power plant incident, learn that the barrier is a dome and are introduced to the idea of animal mutations, as well as many theories about the outside world/ what caused the FAYZ (although those last theories are a misdirection on her part). This works well for the most part as it means that important information can be spaced evenly throughout the book, without the need for info-dumps. However, sometimes Michael’s attempts to showcase Astrid’s intelligence were, I think, a little on the nose and took me out of the story. The worst offender for this, in my opinion, is in chapter 2 with the line “Is that meant to be a pro forma reassurance or a specific commitment?” This is a really nit-picky complaint but this line just really bugged me as it seemed like he was making her smart for the sake of being smart and it kind of came off as annoying. I know one of her character flaws is her social awkwardness but this just felt too much. I love the way she over-explains and over-analyses things when she’s nervous, and I think her constant referencing to things that the other characters just don’t understand perfectly demonstrate this flaw, but lines like this seemed a little irritating and obnoxious. 

The secondary use for Astrid’s intelligence in this book is as her primary line of defence. Her intellect is something that she prides herself on, but it is also something that separates her from everyone else. People are intimidated by her, and, as a result, she has learned to use her intelligence as a weapon when necessary. This is clearly seen in chapter 14, when Diana tries to intimidate her and Astrid immediately starts asking Diana questions about the cause of the FAYZ (questions that she knows Diana has no answer to). It’s later seen in chapter 22. When Drake begins to bully Astrid into calling LP a slur, she fights back by explaining that said slur is outdated; explaining the meaning of it; and then explaining how it does not fit LP anyway. While she knows that she cannot use her physical strength, her intellect is something that she can weaponise in certain situations in order to protect herself and those she loves. Her proficiency in this tactic also leads me to believe that Astrid has probably been in similar situations before. Everyone in Perdido Beach seems to know about LP. Is that why she has no friends?? Has she distanced herself from her peers in order to protect LP from their ignorance, whether consciously or not??

4.) Astrid and Religion - I don’t have as much to say about this, as I’m not religious myself and have very little understanding of Christianity (Or Catholicism – I’m actually not sure which Astrid is meant to be so if anyone knows I would appreciate it), but I feel like this is a such a huge part of who Astrid is that I had to at least mention it. One thing that I do like is Astrid’s seemingly constant battle between her scientific beliefs and her religious beliefs. While she does believe in God, she won’t accept him as an explanation for the FAYZ, and still looks for a scientific answer. Her relationship with religion seems to act as more of a moral guideline rather than a fundamental belief system. She looks to God for guidance and support in times of trouble, such as at Bette’s funeral (Chapter 17), as she is being chased by Drake (Chapter 24) and when the church is collapsed on top of her (Chapter 45) and seems to be convinced that her morality is directly tied to her faith. However, she relies on facts (things she can explain and control) for true comfort, and doesn’t allow her faith to interfere with her action. I think these ideas are perfectly encompassed by this quote from Chapter 40 “No. I believe in free will. I think we make our own decisions and carry out our own actions. And our actions have consequences. The world is what we make it. But I think sometimes we can ask God to help us and He will.” – And I am quite excited to see how her faith/ loss of faith changes her perceptions in the later books. 

5.) Astrid’s Role in The Book - For the most part, Astrid has three main roles in this book:

- To act as LP’s protector

 -To act as a source of plot-relevant and world building information to the reader

-To be Sam’s main motivation is becoming the leader

And this, in my opinion, is a phenomenal waste. Astrid was the perfect candidate for the leader of the FAYZ, and giving the role to Sam made no sense?? I think what Michael was trying to do was suggest that Sam had to be the leader instead of Astrid because, while Astrid is the intelligent one who knows how to work people, Sam is the one who people look to when things go wrong. (Think of Katniss and Peeta’s dynamic in The Hunger Games). But, it just doesn’t work. For one, we know that what the people of Perdido Beach think has very little effect on leadership. There was no uproar when Caine took over. Were people scared and upset?? Yes. Did they run to Sam’s aid and rebel against Caine?? No. So why should it matter whether they prefer Sam to Astrid – Sam could still be the hero without being the leader. In fact, I think it would have made both characters so much better if this was the case. Also we know that in times of crisis, people DO look to Astrid. Albert’s cat anyone?? Furthermore, Astrid’s ability to use her intellect to play on people’s emotions is a much better match for Caine’s easy charm than Sam with his flame throwers. I mean please. Astrid has a cool and intimidating exterior that actually hides a well of deep emotions that she can pull from and use to manipulate people into doing things they never thought they were capable of (we mostly see this work with Sam in this book during the fire, chapter 4, and the first time he controls his powers, chapter 28). Caine has an easy going and charming exterior that hides his lack of empathy, allowing him to use people for his own gain as he sees them as expendable. They are such PERFECTLY MATCHED OPPOSITES. But no. Michael wanted the leader to be Sam because?? Fire?? Ugh. Even when the question of who will take over if Sam poofs comes up in chapter 40, NOBODY EVEN MENTIONS HER. Astrid suggests that Edilio takes over and that’s that. (With that being said I do find it interesting that Astrid basically chose both the leader AND the backup leader but still. Let her live up to her full potential Michael.)

I think I’ve pretty much covered the first two bullet points in other sections but I’ll just quickly mention her part in Sam becoming the leader. It’s very clear from the fire onwards that Sam being in charge is Astrid’s main goal. Is this so that Sam can protect her?? Maybe. Idk. But it kind of frustrates me that she is broken down into Sam’s love interest towards the end, rather than coming into her own role. We are constantly shown that she is the main reason that Sam is becoming the leader, and this is even explicitly stated when Sam tells his mother/the gaiphage that he has “someone I have to stay here for” – chapter 46. I think the book should have ended with Astrid taking on her own role (as the leader obvs but I would have settled for something smaller or, you know, ANYTHING), instead of her just becoming Caine’s human shield. I do have more to say on this topic but I feel like it falls more into the relationship category so I’ll leave that for a later post.

And I’m not even going to talk about her powers past saying: what was the reason?? As far as I can gather Michael wanted a reason for Astrid being so insistent about Sam taking on the role of leader and so gave her a weird power and then decided hmm no. 

Thank you so much for reading and I would love to hear all of your thoughts on Astrid. I think I’m going to do Caine next but who knows.

#the gone series #astrid ellison #Gone

[nvvermore]

Move

Amaryllis and Vissenta surprise each other over and over during a night at the Raven [ @vissenta-senadz ]

words: 2166

cw: drinking

NSFW: (semi?)public sex, manual sex, oral sex, orgasm denial,

accompaniment

—

“I’m going to go get another drink,” Amaryllis rises from their regular booth in the back corner of the Rowdy Raven.

“Are you sure you need another?” Julian taunts, and they’re all too aware of his eyes on them.

“Oh, cause you’re one to talk,” they pull down their veil momentarily, for the express purpose of sticking their tongue out at him. It shuts him up. “I’ll grab you another pint, it’s not like you’re able to walk in a straight line anymore.”

“I can’t do anything straight my darling-“ the rest of his retort is cut off by Amaryllis strutting away and to the bar. The two of them are barely two drinks in— hardly even buzzed at this point. But they do question their sobriety levels for a moment when their eyes catch the sight of a petite brunette at the bar and their heart races. They simply brush it off, but silently admit to themself that they might be a little too intrigued by Vissenta, if they’re doing cliché things like seeing her wherever they go.

But then Amaryllis leans up against the bar, intending to address Barth, when their eyes flirt over said brunette to find it is in fact the exact one they can’t stop thinking about.

“Ma poupée?” Vissenta turns in her seat so fast, Amaryllis is a little worried she might tip out of it and their arms almost reach out to steady her.

“Amie?” She certainly looks particularly surprised to see them here.

“In the flesh,” they grin, close enough to her that surely she can see it through their veil. “What are you doing here, cherié?”

She gestures towards them with her half-empty glass. “It’s been a long day at the shop.”

“Pauvre fille, perhaps you’d like to join me? I have a friend who’d love to meet you.” Amaryllis attempts to flag down Barth, but he merely nods their way before heading into the backroom to fetch a bottle of their regular.

Vissenta blinks. “I- sure, that sounds great.” Amaryllis holds out an elbow, and she stares at them for a moment before sliding off the stool to take it.

“Here you are,” Barth speaks up, uncorking and then sliding a dark red bottle across the bar.

“Already passing off the whole bottle, is that what you think of me, Barth?” The man merely scoffs and rolls his eyes, getting another drink for Julian. He passes off the overfull pint with a friendly wink, and Amaryllis turns and leads Vissenta back to their booth.

“So, you come here often?” she asks, and Amaryllis can’t help but giggle.

“I think we’re past the point of bad pick-up lines.”

“I was asking a question,” she pouts.

“I do, quite often actually,” they crowd her into the booth, where Julian is nowhere to be found. “Have you found yourself in here before now?”

“Yes, a few times. It’s a... cozy little place,” she comments. Amaryllis refills their own glass, and fills up Vissenta’s empty glass too.

“You say ‘cozy’ like it’s a bad thing.”

“No, I just wouldn’t have expected to find you in a place like this.”

“Oh?” Amaryllis’s brow quirks.

“You blend into all the glamour and regality so effortlessly, I never pictured you in a dive bar.” Her eyes run over their form, taking in their outfit, which— when compared to the things she’d seen them in before— was simple. “Or as dressed down as this.”

“Then it may be a surprise to hear that this is my favorite bar.”

“And people don’t mind you here?” she asks, clearly confused as to why anyone from the South End would put up with someone from the royal court. Amaryllis bursts into laughter, amused by the pieces she’s missing from the picture.

“We love them here!” Julian reappears, clapping Amaryllis on the back before sliding back into the opposite booth. “How could anyone around here not welcome such a generous benefactor!”

“Ilya…” they warn with a glare that only encourages his roguish attitude, and turn their head to meet Vissenta’s inquisitive eyes. “I’ve been haunting the South End for much longer than I’ve been in the palace’s employ.”

Julian actually notices Vissenta now, and has the sense to change the subject. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your lovely friend?”

“This is Vissenta-“

“The Vissenta?” he gasps, as if he didn’t already know, from the way Amaryllis has told him all about her. He reaches across the table for her hand, and leans forward to place a kiss on the back of it. “I’m Julian, and what an honor to finally meet you, my dear. I’ve heard so much about you.”

“All bad things, I hope?” Vissenta grins.

“Absolutely deplorable,” he takes a sip of his bitters, “Amaryllis hasn’t talked of anyone but you for weeks now.” They can feel their face heat as Julian exposes them, thankful for the veil covering most of it. Throwing another scalding look at Julian only seems to amuse him further, and he winks their way, despite the eyepatch.

“Oh?” Vissenta turns her eyes on them, “Is that so?”

Julian opens his mouth, and Amaryllis delivers a firm— but ultimately harmless— kick to his shin. “So then, you’re new to the city?” He asks instead of whatever torment he’d planned instead.

Amaryllis sits back, content to listen to Julian and Vissenta chat, sipping on their bitter wine. Vissenta gives him minimal information, but Julian is more than happy to fill in all the blanks with his own wild stories.

Somewhere along the way, Vissenta had rested her hand on their stockinged knee. For a while, she’d just left it there, every so often rubbing circles into their skin. It was comforting, intimate even, and they thought little more of it.

Until the hand starts ghosting up their leg, sliding across nylon to touch the bare skin of their upper thigh. When her fingers meet the slit in their skirt, she continues on and slips her fingers underneath. Amaryllis expects simple teasing, light touches, encouragement for them to whisk her away for the night. But it seems Vissenta has other plans, because her fingers don't stop until she finds them already bare and wet for her. Beside them, she hums as her finger grazes through their folds, pretending to still be fully absorbed in what Julian is saying.

Amaryllis has half a mind to stop her, but they can’t deny— to themself, at least— how incredibly hot this is. Vissenta deciding that she’s going to touch them, and that she can’t even wait until they’re alone to do so. Tucked into the dim back corner of the populated tavern, with Julian looking directly at the two of them while none the wiser. They aren’t all that worried about getting caught, they started sitting here years ago for a reason, after all, and the worst case scenario is Julian catching on.

They have to bite down on their lip, hard, to stifle the moan that threatens to spill out as Vissenta firmly circles their clit. All the while she's chatting away with Julian, seemingly fully engaged in the theatrical anecdote he's telling. She really has no plans to tease, and alongside the intense pleasure they’re uneasy. Vissenta is working them in just the right way, the way she knows quite well will make them come undone in a matter of minutes. They attempt to focus on his tall tale, barely managing to hold back their sounds. But trying to distract from Vissenta’s pointed caresses was useless.

It only takes a few more strokes before Amaryllis is coming against her hand, in the middle of the crowded tavern. They’re got a white knuckled grip on the edge of their seat, and the noise of the bar and Julian’s voice becomes a dull thrum. Amaryllis doesn’t tune back in until Vissenta’s voice cuts through their daze.

“Amie, you doing okay?” she grins, all too satisfied with herself. At some point, she’d pulled her hand out from under their skirt, and— ever so discreetly— pops her fingers into her mouth. “You look a little pale.”

“You know, I haven't eaten much today,” they smooth down their skirt, hoping they hadn’t soaked it in the process.

Julian pauses his story and ungloves his hand, reaching across the table to feel their forehead. “You are a little warm,” he decides.

“I’m fine, Doctor Jules.” Amaryllis half-heartedly bats away his hand. “Perhaps I’ll go get some air.”

“Perhaps, you should eat something.”

They glance at Vissenta. “Oh, I will.”

- - -

Amaryllis only has to wait a few minutes at most, when the alleyway door to the Raven opens and quickly closes, Vissenta appearing before them. With one last drag, they toss aside their cigarette, crushing it under their boot.

“Well that wasn’t very polite,” they comment sarcastically, to a very smug Vissenta.

“You’re the one who taught me all about the advantages of dresses. I was just showcasing what I’ve learned.” She closes the distance between them, her hands sliding around their hips to cup their ass.

“Then, I think I have another lesson for you.” Amaryllis’s hands fall to Vissenta’s, snatching them up and flipping their positions. She moans when her back crashes against the stone wall.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

“And what was it exactly, that you thought so much about, to the point you couldn’t even wait until we were alone?”

“Your mouth…” Amaryllis unlaces her pants, and slowly inches them down.

“What about my mouth?”

“On me, tasting me,” she whines, eyes flitting down to watch Amaryllis get down on their knees and pull down their veil.

“Since you’ve been waiting for so long…” Amaryllis digs their nails into her thighs as Vissenta spreads them further, and they seal their mouth over her cunt.

Amaryllis follows her lead from inside, no teasing tonight, only vigorous lapping and sucking in exactly the way they know will have her keening in a matter of minutes.

Her legs shake, knees threatening to buckle as she grinds into their mouth. One hand is yanking on their hair, hard enough to get them going all over again, and the other is sealed over her mouth, muffling her cries. Amaryllis counts down in their mind, just a few more seconds, and then—

—Amaryllis abruptly gets to their feet, stepping backwards as their eyes rake over her debauched form.

Vissenta cries out, no longer in pleasure but in utter betrayal. Amaryllis licks their lips, collecting what they can of her taste before tugging their veil back up over their face.

“This should teach you not to be so bold as to touch me before you’ve earned it.”

“Fuck, Amie,” she begs, “please, I’m so sorry, I won’t do it ever again, I swear, I’ve learned.”

“Oh, you will learn cherié. And I’m punishing you to make sure.” Vissenta groans in frustration, head falling back against the stone. “I’d tell you that you aren’t allowed to make yourself come, but your own fingers pale in comparison to my mouth.”

In an expected show of complete bratiness— exactly what they were hoping for— Vissenta glares at them and starts to touch herself. With an amused laugh, Amaryllis turns on their heel and re-enters the tavern, Vissenta’s complaints falling on deaf ears.

- - -

It doesn’t take very long for Vissenta to follow Amaryllis back inside either, but instead of cocky, now she's very incredibly displeased. Perhaps it’s not as obvious to anyone else, especially not to Julian, whose lap she's been seated upon as she flirts away with him for the better part of an hour.

Amaryllis knows what she’s trying to do, but what she doesn’t know is that it would never work, not in a million years, and certainly not when it's Julian she’s batting her lashes at. It's cute, how unaware she is. The more unaffected they look, the harder she tries, going as far as to nip at his earlobe when she whispers something that turns him as scarlet as Amaryllis’s hair.

It’s that move that scares him off, and suddenly he’s realized how late it’s gotten, and he needs to get some rest before working all day tomorrow. All of which, Amaryllis knows is bullshit.

“Nothing?” Vissenta asks, indignant, when Julian is out of earshot.

“What?” Amaryllis sips the last of their wine. Vissenta doesn’t answer, just leans back in the booth with a pout. “Were you expecting me to become jealous?” Amaryllis laughs, which only serves to deepen her scowl. “He's the last person in this whole bar I'd be jealous over seeing you with. He's not capable of fulfilling your needs the way I can. In fact,” they rise from their seat to stand in front of Vissenta. Amaryllis grabs her chin, tilting her head up to force her to look at them, and their voice turns into a low murmur. “I'm sure he’d be the perfect example to show you how good sluts are supposed to behave.”

#u know what im posting at ass oclock #deranged #anyways #amaryllis leroux #vissenta senadz #visamie #not quite visamilya #amie fic #spicy #lemon #my fic

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Taking Chances 2/4

Keanu Reeves x Reader (A/n- Switching perspectives without clear divisions cause why not)

1 2 3 4 

Warnings- Brief mentions of smut, cheesy romance stuff 

Ayiana and Mark had left when the rain had slowed, and Keanu had insisted that they take the rented car back, after agreeing with Y/n that they could fend for themselves. After the couple had left though, tipsy and all over each other, the rain, as predicted by the forecast, had grown heavy again. Though, as the night waned on, most patrons, drunk and tired, had opted to bare the worst of the storm, leaving the pub scantily populated, with Keanu and his newfound friend cozied in a booth near the back, where the lights were lowest, beer bottles and empty glasses laid out on the table. By then, Y/n’s clothes were mostly dried, as was her hair, now in messy curls framing her gorgeous face. “Wait,” drunkenly, Y/n giggled, leaning in so Keanu could catch a whiff of the alluring remnants of her perfume mixing intoxicatingly with the scent of alcohol, “Say that again.”

“Okay, okay,” her fit of musical giggles were contagious and Keanu could help but grin wider as he realized how absolutely breathtaking Y/n was when she smiled, “I got up to check the air, and just like that this lady rear ends me.”

“And the bike slides out from under you?” She finished, eyes wide and her soiree interrupted by her gaping in shock.

“Basically, yeah,” Keanu nodded, “It was insane!” He laughed a bit louder, not caring how much attention they attracted, only quelling the sound when he finished off his latest drink. They’d had so many by then, that they’d both lost count and Y/n and Keanu could both safely say that they were way past drunk.

“But you were okay right?” And just like that, her glassy eyes were sparkling with genuine worry, and again, Y/n leaned in a tad bit closer. The nearer she drew, the harder it was to ignore how plump her lips were, how much Keanu wanted to kiss her. It was so strange, they didn’t know each other very well, and Keanu knew that Y/n would probably be gone by the next day; but he thought he could listen to her for a lifetime, her laugh, her voice, even her silences were enjoyable. She was so unlike anyone he’d ever met, funny, intelligent, confident, but also so very shy at times, blushing when he least expected and laughing at his worst jokes. It wasn’t forced or fake laughter either, it was real, full bodied and melodious.

“Yeah,” Keanu’s smile softened as he reassured her, still surprised by her unexpected concern, “I was standing, so everything turned out fine.” They broke into a bout of silence, a brief one, which Keanu broke, "So, what brings you to Luxembourg? I mean, you're definitely not from around here."

At that, Y/n blushed, thinking back on how she'd messed up the accents on very simple words earlier, "I'm not," she chortled quietly, they'd just been equipped with fresh drinks, and as she thought of her answer, mind to blurry to work out all the details, she spun the glass in her hand, eyeing the whiskey inside with broken focus, "I'm actually here for…...inspiration. I thought some kind of spontaneous trip would somehow get the creative juices flowing, I'm a writer, or at least, I'm supposed to be," she chuckled dryly, "I used to be a journalist."

"Career change? You didn't like it?" Keanu furrowed his brows, holding his chin in his palm, elbow planted on the table. He wanted to know everything about her, willing to listen to anything she'd say, and based on their interaction, he could tell she felt the same. 

"I did," Y/n took a sip of her drink, staring off to the cleared tables ahead wistfully, "I traveled sometimes, but usually I'd be in Washington, covering press conferences and that kind of stuff. It was pretty boring," frowning, Y/n tried to put her thoughts into words, "I always wanted to be a writer, you know, write a novel or something that people would read even when I'm gone."

Like she had back at the bar, though with the moment feeling far more intimate, Keanu took Y/n's hand, curling his fingers over hers, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles, her skin silky smooth. Her plight resonated with him, the burning desire to leave behind a legacy, make his own unique mark in the world sometimes haunted him too sometimes. "But?"

"But?" Huffing with a faint smile, Y/n shook her head, taking another lengthy sip of her drink, "But I don't know how. I mean, what am I even supposed to write about?"

"Whatever you want," Keanu chuckled with a new enthusiasm. Untangling their hands, Keanu rummaged through his pocket for his wallet, eventually producing enough cash to cover their bill and more, before standing and offering Y/n his hand, "Come on."

Confused by his erratic behavior, Y/n's lips hung agape, finding it hard to formulate any semblance of a sentence, "What're…..what?"

"Trust me?" His plea was half a question for her to actually do it and half an inquisition to gauge how much she actually trusted him.

"Trust you?" Y/n shot back incredulously, though still taking Keanu's hand, their fingers interlacing easily, feeling as if they were made to fit, "I don't even know you!" Already, they were already at the front door, and Keanu was pushing it open, pulling Y/n along as he stepped onto the slippery, wet sidewalk. The sound of the downpour, accompanied by the claps of thunder and occasional burst of lightning welcomed them. Heavy drops hit the street and pavement, splattering upwards, in some areas creating huge puddles. In an instant, even though they were still under the guard of the under-croft, their feet were soaked, water clinging to the hem of Y/n's tea length sundress and soaking her wedged sandals, while Keanu's boots were completely saturated, as were his jeans. "Is your plan to get us sick?"

"No," Keanu flashed her a mischievous grin, the act enough to add a distinct boyishness to his rugged features, despite the evidence of salt in his trimmed beard, "You're here for inspiration, so let's find you some. You know what they say about experience." 

Squaring up to brace the weather, Keanu gave her one final glance to ensure Y/n was ready too, and when her eyes complied, he led her out. In an instant, they were drenched, cold rain water matting hair to their skin and  making their clothes cling to their bodies. Y/n barely had a moment to even be concerned with how wet the contents of her bag would be, or even the fact that she was still holding Keanu's hand when there was someone at home waiting for her. All that mattered then and there was the glee on Keanu's face, how contagious it was and how much she wished they could stay like that forever. "Well where are we going for this experience?"

"This is the experience!" Keanu laughed giddily, stopping when they were stood in the middle of the deserted street to look up at the sky, "You can't tell me you've ever walked through a foreign town, with a complete stranger during a storm in the middle of the night."

It was an oddly specific situation and Y/n without even thinking of it, resigned to sharing in his excitement, "No!" It was a strain for her soft voice to combat the sounds around them, "I can't say I have." They were walking down the cobblestone street, following the gentle slope downward, occasionally stumbling as a result of all the alcohol they'd had. It was cold, though neither of them noticed; the company was warm enough, and as they walked, Y/n looked around, closed stores looking vastly different from what they were like back home. There weren't bright lights embedded in the showcase, meant to display products even during closing, and everything just seemed so beautifully vintage, straight out of a forties film noir. 

"Tell me something about yourself," Keanu broke her thoughts as they grew further and further from the pub.

Briefly, Y/n turned to him, biting her lip at how enthralling he looked like that, so picture perfect, as if a snapshot from a movie had been plucked out of a television and placed right next to her. Keanu was nothing like Noah, he was enigmatic and fascinating because of his unpredictability. He laughed easier and much louder, he was shy and bold at the same time and much to her surprise, they didn't have any sort of awkward "getting to know you" period, they'd just lapsed into familiarity in merely a few minutes. "What do you want to know?"

“Anything,” everything. Keanu grinned broadly, knowing that he’d likely be content with listening to her for the rest of his time, without ever growing tired. “Just say anything,” being with Y/n, staggering through the rain, the sound of her kitten heels on cobblestone muted by the weather and her palm warm and right in his, couldn’t be anything other than the optimum of perfection. He’d never felt that at ease with someone, so ready to bare his soul to a stranger, “And I’ll listen.”

For a brief moment, Y/n glanced at Keanu, her smile faltering, softening, as their eyes met. Part of her knew it was wrong; the way she was feeling. If she were sober, then maybe things might have been different, but Y/n’s speech was slurred and her vision was blurry. Her mind was cloudy too, bombarded only with thoughts of Keanu; how much she was enjoying having his hand in hers, how devilishly handsome he was, how desperately she wanted to kiss him. Abruptly, with a pink hue, hidden by the darkness, spreading on her cheeks, Y/n turned away, “Lets see,” she deliberated, “My favorite book is The Great Gatsby, I moved to Washington for college when I was eighteen,” she thought some more, “And I love eighties music!”

Throwing his head back in wild euphoria, Keanu gazed at her, “Were you even alive in the eighties?”

“Nope!” Y/n giggled, almost tripping, only to be caught by Keanu, who took the initiative to pull her closer. Her laughter sobered, and in the back of her mind, Y/n knew she should pull away, tell Keanu the truth, but his embrace was warmer than anything she’d ever felt, and when she stole another glance at him, only to find him gazing down at her, his expression illuminated by the flickering street lamp, all she could see was a face that seemed strange and oddly familiar simultaneously. Then it hit her, she didn’t want to tell him, Y/n wanted to live like that with him, even if just for the rest of the night. It was out-rightly selfish, and utterly wrong, but she had a feeling that Keanu was worth it. Her heart hadn’t fluttered like that in a long time, and it had been ages since she’d done something so spontaneous. 

Keanu hadn’t noted that he’d been leading Y/n in the direction of the hotel that he’d been staying at until the elegant building came into view, yellow lights glittering through the screen doors leading to individual balconies and the valet’s station vacant, possibly due to the storm. “Where are you staying tonight?” Keanu inquired as they floundered towards the front doors.

“I…..” Wide eyed, Y/n stuttered, “I have no idea,” despite her distress, she was still smiling faintly, I guess I’ll get a room here.” Already, they’d stepped through the door, greeted by the middle aged doorman who warmly welcomed the two with French salutations. Easing her hand from Keanu’s grip, moving some soaked hair from her face and tucking it behind her ear, Y/n twisted her body to rummage through the contents of her handbag, searching for her purse, in hopes that the hotel would have an unbooked room.

“Or you could just stay with me,” Keanu blurted, causing Y/n to stare up at him with a perfectly surprised expression, “Come on, it’ll be fun, we can have some more drinks, get to know each other better, it’ll be fun.” Holding his breath, Keanu hung on to the hope that she’d say yes; he really wasn’t ready to lose her company yet.

Internally, Y/n debated Keanu’s offer. It seemed appealing, and she wanted to say yes, to just go for it and see where the night took them. But she was engaged, and maybe going up there with him was taking the fun too far, she already felt like a cheater anyway. Not because of what she’d done exactly, you could hold anyone’s hand and it would mean nothing, no, the guilt had bubbled up like a broil in the pit of her stomach because of how she’d felt. You shouldn’t feel the way she did about Keanu when you had someone waiting for you to come back. To come home.

But Paris wasn’t home, and while she’d tried to make Noah her home, like he’d done with her, Y/n knew she was straying, far, far away from what was ordinarily familiar. She didn’t want familiar that night, she wanted Keanu, the thrill, the loud laughter that she’d easily sunk into, the feeling of getting lost in his whiskey eyes and the insurmountable comfort that came from simply holding his calloused hand. Y/n had the burning urge to know him, learn him, hold on and not let go. The feelings swirling around in her chest weren’t ones that Y/n thought could be built so quickly, yet there they were, and all she could say to his offer was, “Let's do it.”

Stunned by her willingness, Keanu’s features brightened tremendously, and he swore he’d never smiled so hard, “Great!” Taking her hand again, they trotted towards the elevator, leaving the deserted lobby behind, squinting at the bright lights and foggy reflections that dazzled their eyes as they entered the metal contraption. It took a minute or too, his eyes squinted and his stocky fingers fumbling until he found the ‘15’ button, hitting it harder than he should have. As they went up, they found that the air in there was colder than it had been downstairs, and when a shiver ran through Y/n, Keanu, without thinking of it, wiggled his fingers out of hers, proceeding to drape his long arm over her shoulders, reeling her in.

Instinctively, Y/n nuzzled into his side, reveling in the warmth that radiated off his body despite his soaked outfit, swallowing tightly as she tilted her head upwards, only to find that Keanu was studying her, his expression soft, though wanting. No one had ever looked at her like that, not even Noah; like she was everything that mattered, all wrapped up in one person. Like she held the clarity to every unanswerable question in her eyes. Like love could be simply contained in a stare. Love? Love. For probably the first time since they’d sat down in the pub, Y/n stopped smiling, though, it was only because the giddiness had been replaced by something more…….consuming. Thoughts of drinks and a chat late into what remained of the night dispersed, and the lump in her throat only thickened. Tell him, one voice urged, while the more careless one pleaded with her to just let things unfold. One night with a man who’d made her feel like she was the only woman in the world couldn’t be so bad, could it?

As if it were fated, their faces gravitated towards each other, just as Y/n turned slightly in Keanu’s embrace, cocking her head to the side. His lips were barely a hair away from descending upon hers and she could readily smell the alcohol on his breath, mixing with the scent of the rain and a long smoked cigarette. Altogether, it was alluring, and Y/n wondered if the next day she’d be able to go back to a life without it; if she’d be able to leave Keanu behind. She didn’t want to find out. As he came closer, her breath hitched, the soft sound contained in the hollow of her throat, and right as it was about to happen, right as she was about to finally break a sacred promise, the elevator dinged, the doors sliding open, ready to the deposit the pair on the sleepy hallway of the hotel’ fifteenth floor.

“We should…..” Keanu trailed off, not able to quite shake off the feeling that had prompted him to try to initiate a kiss in the elevator, though still leading Y/n towards his room, down the end of the hall. Secretly, he hoped that the moment could be rekindled when they reached their destination, it would be a lie if he’d said he hadn’t wanted to kiss Y/n since the moment they’d met. The thought had bounced around in his head all night, hope building in his chest every time their eyes locked, but the time never seemed as right as it had until they were in the elevator. Clumsily, he shoved his key card into the designated slot, swearing under his breath when he’d gotten it wrong the first two times, the mood only lightened by Y/n’s incessant giggles at his plight from nearby. When Keanu finally got it right, he was the first to enter, though she was close on his heels as he slapped the light switch near the door. 

Still laughing, Y/n barely noticed the kink in the carpet in the threshold, getting caught in her shoe, resulting in her stumbling forward and right into Keanu’s arms. Luckily though, he caught her, his hands planted on her waist, bunching up the fabric of her pleated, dusty rose colored dress, beneath her cropped leather jacket. Even when she was steadied, Keanu’s grip remained, only loosening to slip to her hips. Feeling the air around them grow electric once again, Y/n took the tiniest step forward, only just registering how close they’d already been. Once again, Keanu was staring at her, the way he had been during their moment in the elevator, “He looked at her the way all women wanted to be looked at by a man,” she quoted breathlessly, not quite sure why she’d felt the need to do that, her lips already ghosting Keanu’s.

“What?” Keanu knitted his brows, his arms moving again to circle Y/n’s waist, his tongue hurriedly darting out to moisten his lips as she stood on the tips of her toes to reach him better. 

Raising her hands, Y/n tangled her fingers in his shaggy, wet mane, when the other hand cupped his neck, feeling his scruff tickle her thumb. Barely, she registered the low twinkle of her engagement ring, occasionally made mute by the bursts of lightning that brightened the suite. “Nothing,” Y/n leaned in. Heartbeat to heartbeat, quick breaths in sync and minds only focused on one thing, they finally let it happen. Hot lips, meeting, taking a minute to feel each other out, slow and sweet as Y/n tasted him for the first time, though, growing passionate when their tongues warred. Better judgment was never going to prevail, and when Keanu found the edges of her jacket, pushing it off, she let him, thoughts of anything and everything that was outside of their bubble, fade away.

******

Tagging- @harrisongslimited @magnificentclodpiebanana @keandrews @greenmanalishi  @rdjloverxxx @danceoftwowolves  @planetkt  @iworshipkeanureeves​

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