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from-a-reckless-writer · 4 years ago

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here lads have an angsty supercorp soulmate story

It starts exactly 24 hours after Kara’s departure.

It’s subtle at first. It actually reminds Lena of the first few days after they met.

The slow but steady build-up of pain manifesting itself into little things; shaky hands, dizzy spells, chest pains. The pills help, of course. She’s already ingested 5 pills in the span of 3 hours and she’s contemplating taking more. Just to keep the pain—threatening to overtake her—at bay. But what good would she be if Alex finds her passed out on the floor? Veins chock-full of narcotics?

So, she wills her hands to stop shaking and pushes on. She sends a text to Jess to send a shipment of pills to her home address; tells her to be discreet.

She can do it. She’s done it before. She can fucking do it again. And she will bring Kara home.

Because every moment that passes with them apart, means a step closer to Lena’s death.

You might think she’s exaggerating, but really she isn’t. See, Kara’s her soul mate, not just in the figure of speech wax-poetic sense but literally Kara’s her soul mate.

But her being a Luthor of course, soul mates wouldn’t come easy. None of it had ever been easy. Why would this one be an exception? It wasn’t unheard of, no, there were a few rare cases of it being recorded. Of course, Lena would be one of those people. Why wouldn’t the universe add shitty soul mate luck into the long list of misfortunes in Lena’s life? What’s one more curse, right?

See, Kara’s her soul mate but...Lena isn’t Kara’s.

“You look like shit, Luthor. You’re allowed to take a break you know?”

It’s Alex who breaks her out of her reverie. She prays to God that Alex doesn't notice her shaking hands. She’s well aware she looks like shit. She feels like shit, she doesn’t need Alex of all people to point that one out. But now, Lena notices that the whole place is empty, she didn’t even notice J’onn slip out. She didn’t even notice Alex coming in too, really.

Brainy had long passed-out in one of the beds in the MedBay in the 2nd level of The Tower, Nia taking up the opposite bed. There was a brief moment when she walked in that made her feel tempted to occupy the third bed and take a break. But then, her chest tightened and a flare of pain lit up her whole insides, it was reason enough to keep her feet moving and back unto the computers trying to pinpoint Kara’s location.

“I know,” she replies, “But it’s really not necessary, Alex. I’ll rest after.”

She doesn’t need rest, what she needs is Kara to be here.

She refuses to look at Alex, fingers flying across the screen. Alex shifts closer to her, lays a hand on her right arm prompting her to stop. Her eyes land on Alex's hand and continue up to Alex’s eyes.

“We’ll find her, Lena. But you have to rest. I’m serious, Luthor. Come on,” Alex persists, wrapping her hand more firmly and tugging at Lena to follow her.

She doesn’t say that rest will do her more harm than good. She doesn’t say that if she closes her eyes all she would see is Kara’s body floating all alone in space and the pain would start anew.

First, her chest and then travelling up the rest of her body until all there is is pain.

She doesn’t say that she needs to work in order to distract her from the pain.

Instead, she holds her tongue, lets Alex bring her to the 2nd level and tries to have the most fitful sleep of her life.

***

It gets worse on the 5th day of the second week. It really isn’t a surprise considering this is the longest she’s had to go without Kara around.

She’s taken mega-doses of painkillers in anticipation for today. Last night was a nightmare, she had to bite down on a hand towel as waves of pain assaulted her, again and again and again.

When morning came, it slowly subsided. Once feeling had returned to her legs she ran into the kitchen and swallowed 3 pills immediately.

It doesn’t matter if she’s taken 3 or 4 or a whole bottle today, because it will just get worse and worse the longer Kara isn’t by her side.

And so, she drags herself into The Tower again, because she needs to finally find a way to bring her back.

She tries to ignore the tightening of her chest even though she’s really having a hard time breathing now. Not to mention the pain behind her eyes that is bit by bit making it difficult for her to coordinate with Brainy’s computations.

She’s taken to keeping a bottle of pills on her person now. Opting to take them dry as if they were mint candies to keep her tongue moving while programming lines of codes.

She thinks she’s still being subtle.

Well, she is.

Until she isn’t.

She crumples to the floor in front of everyone and a guttural scream of pain breaks free from her lips.

***

When she wakes it’s to Alex sitting by her bedside.

She lets out a groan in response to the sore feeling of her entire body. It’s like the time they were forced to do team building exercises all day in Mt. Helena and Lena nearly passed out.

Alex hands her a bottle of water. She sips greedily before handing it back and wiping her mouth.

“Hey? How you feeling?”

“Like I wanna die.”

Alex sighs and Lena intentionally avoids her eyes.

“It’s Kara isn’t it?” Alex says and Lena doesn’t bother with lying anymore.

“It is.”

“How you survived almost two weeks away from her, I wouldn’t know. Two days away from Kelly—” Alex breaks off, inhales deeply and then sighs again, “That’s already torture for me.”

“I’ve had a lot of practice,” She retorts flatly, hands fiddling with the rough edges of the blanket. Alex looks like she wants to say something about that but Lena beats her there.

“How?” She asks, gesturing to the IV drip. How am I not feeling pain right now? How am I still breathing? How am I still alive?

“The DEO created a special fluid for agents,” Alex reveals, “They distribute it to agents on field assignments. That way, them and their partners don’t die from pain. Good thing, J’onn had a stash hidden here, well, we always thought it would be for me and Kelly. Never expected you, Luthor.”

Lena takes that in for a moment. So, the DEO had a special formula of Dextrose to stave off the pain of soulmate separation and apparently she’s using up all the remaining bags of it.

And it’s not even supposed to be for her.

“Don’t worry about it. Brainy can replicate the formula.”

Worry must’ve shown on her face. So, she works on schooling her features again, she knows that Alex is itching to ask her questions but is trying to be polite.

There’s really no use hiding anything now though.

“K-Kara’s my soulmate,” she finally says out loud, and she’s always thought that it’s supposed to feel cathartic and freeing but instead it just feels heavy.

“But I’m not hers,” she quickly finishes, better to rip the band-aid off. She briefly looks at Alex, whose face doesn’t give her anything; mouth a tight line and eyes shining with curiosity.

She doesn’t know if Alex had ever had a conversation with Kara about soul mates before. Had they talked about it? Had Kara ever mentioned Lena acting too clingy whenever they don’t see each other for a short period of time? Had Kara ever told Alex if she would want a soul mate of her own?

But the look and silence from Alex’s side makes Lena refrain from asking.

Instead, she starts to tell her how it had hit her the instant Kara walked in her office. How there was a zing! and her brain had immediately screamed HER. That’s the one. She’s the one.

How when they met eyes and Kara had told her her name it felt like Lena’s soul finally found her home.

“I asked for her name and I kind of thought she’d wait for me to get out of the office,” Lena trails off and Alex takes it for what it is.

Their first meeting was all sparks for Lena but then, the conversation kept going and going and Clark had tried interrogating her and Kara didn’t do anything.

Didn’t approach her afterwards, didn’t show any reaction that might’ve given Lena a clue that she felt the way Lena did.

A conclusion was easily reached.

Kara was hers but she wasn’t Kara’s.

After the initial shock settled in, Lena set to work. Because that was what she did best. Work out a solution to everything and anything that poses a problem.

How many people have dreamed about meeting their soul mate? How many years had Lena sat there hoping that tomorrow maybe, maybe she’ll finally meet them? She never expected this, never expected her soul to find a home that isn’t hers.

Staying away from Kara was a non-starter, it’s only been a day since they parted but Lena can already feel the beginnings of pain. Slow but sharp shots of throbbing from behind her eyes then came the shaky hands then the dizziness and then—

They became friends and Lena made sure Kara didn’t know anything about her growing need to be close to her; didn't let Kara know about the fact that the universe made Lena its most epic punchline yet.

She agreed to scheduled game nights and movie nights and lunch dates. She never knew the pain of soulmate separation during those early days. Kara was always around; bringing her a salad, covering an L-Corp gala, crashing on Lena’s couch.

“It was easy, you know? Kara was always there. What are friends for?” Lena mimics Kara and then repeats somberly, “It was easy, Alex.”

Or at least, Lena kept telling herself it was easy. She had it easy. She didn’t have to think about painkiller pills or cutting her business trips short—because the pain becomes unbearable too soon—like so many of her board members do.

She had it easy with Kara, she can just call and she’ll be there.

Until, Kara started going MIA. And for three days pain overtook her entire life. The pain made her unable to think clearly, the pills kicking in at the last minute.

“You haven't been around. Supergirl's been there for me. Person who judges me on the very premise of my last name, but my best friend hasn't,” she accuses because Goddamnit Kara has no idea what kind of shit Lena had to endure with her going away with no warning.

Logically, Lena knows it’s partly her fault.

She knows that if she only just told Kara that she needs her to live, Kara would stay. But she doesn’t want anything to change.

Of course, Kara would stay, it was the kind of thing a person like her would do.

Kara would take care of her, whatever Lena needed she would give.

But Lena didn’t want things that way.

She wants Kara to want her the same way she wants her.

But no, Lena’s not going to tell her that. She is never going to know. She will find an alternative. So, she injects as much venom as she can into that accusation, “B-but maybe it’s better if I leave.”

She makes Kara leave.

She just got her cure back and immediately Lena had pushed her away. The moment Kara stepped out of the door, a dull throb already kicked in her chest; as if telling Lena she was making a big mistake.

She regretted that night so much, Jess had to drag her drunken body out of her office.

Then it became normal again and Lena went back to not worrying about body pains again.

Because a different kind of pain is trying to make itself known.

A gaping hole in her heart that is entirely unrelated to the biological consequences of being separated from your soul mate.

She was falling in love.

She was falling in love and she wasn’t prepared for how it would hurt to have Kara not love her back. She can endure the physical pain, there are pills for that.

But there wasn’t any type of medication to see your other half everyday and not have them see you as theirs.

When Lex told her Kara’s secret. Something broke inside of her. Which was saying something, considering she was getting her heart broken every single day that Kara wouldn’t look her way.

But to know how stupid she’s been? To realize that the flutter of her heart whenever Supergirl was near was her brain telling her it was Kara?

There was no word for that.

“I think, I kept rejecting the idea of Supergirl being Kara you know?” Lena huffs out, laughs drily, “Imagine how fucking painful it would be, Alex, if Supergirl was my soul mate. This person who didn’t trust me wholly, who lies behind my back, imagine if she was my soul mate? It would have felt humiliating. My body knew better, though,” she admitted sadly.

“When Lex told me, all the little painful outbursts every time Supergirl flew away? It made sense. Everything made sense, but at the same time? Everything hurt too.”

She tried hurting her back. Created Hope. Experimented with Q-waves. Foolishly used Myriad. Teamed up with Lex.

But even through all of those? The separation pain never knocked her out.

Even when they were fighting, Kara was still always around. Even when the world—the fucking multiverse got reset. The pain wasn’t enough to knock her out. Not like today.

Because Kara was always lingering around convincing her not to join Lex, crossing paths in CatCo, flying into her home even if it was to call her a villain.

All of those interactions were still sustenance for Lena.

But this? This separation? This knowledge that Kara was somewhere out there, unreachable. That she could be lightyears away in space and it has been two weeks since Lena had last saw her, it has her every molecule shouting to go find Kara.

“It’s never been like this before,” Lena confesses, “I thought I could do it without-”

“Help?” Alex supplies and Lena finally turns to her and she feels a hand squeeze her.

“Yeah.” She mutters back softly.

“Well, that’s where you’re wrong, Luthor. You’re part of the team now whether you like it or not. We are going to help you, we’re going to find a temporary solution for that pain and then we’ll get back to work and we’ll find Kara.”

#im thinking if i'll continue this after the 2nd ep but hmm we'll see #anyways hope u liked that little blurb #the reckless writer writes #a supercorp ficlet of sorts #supercorp fic #soul mate au #supercorp #rcklss writes

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harrywritingsbyme · 4 years ago

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Sunday Smut Concept #31

Based Off Of This Ask

And This One

This One Too

A/N: So I’m 100% positive that I’ve lost my mind. Like I’ve been searching through my archives for a concept that I most likely had an idea for but was most likely never sent to me in an ask or anything…IT WAS JUST AN IDEA and I don’t know how to feel about that😑 Anywayss, this one is a lil blurb that’s hot and cute…enjoy🙃

So this without a doubt gives me sub!Harry and Sub!Y/n vibes!

Like the two of you were incredibly needy for each other. Harry had a very long day on set filming, you had a very long and excruciating day taking care of all your school work, and by the end of it all, you and Harry were completely over holding it together and you just wanted to be wrapped up and in each others arms and be taken care of. The two of you had fallen into your subspaces. Now there weren’t many times where this happened. But when it did, the two of you together was a complete mess. You and Harry were all whiney and desperate for each other, constantly trying to be as close as possible to one another while trying your hardest to give and receive pleasure. While the experience itself was amazing, it was definitely a situation that someone in their subspace would find a bit challenging. When you were in your subspace, all you wanted was to have daddy take control over and take care of you. And the exact same thing could be said for Harry. Whenever he was in his subspace, all he wanted was for mommy to take control over and take care of him. So with all this being said, it was going to be a very needy night to say the least.

While you were at home clutching onto Harry’s pillow and slipping further and further into your subspace as you awaited Harry’s arrival back home, Harry was anxiously waiting for the time when he could make his way home to you. And once that time came, he anxiously wove his way in and out of traffic so that he could be with you faster. And after almost thirty minuets of driving, Harry was frantically parking his car in the driveway and charging into the house to find you. Luckily for him though,he didn't have to search much because as soon as you heard the front door open, you shot out of your curled up position in bed, down the stairs, and right into his arms.

“I missed you so much daddy!” You mumble excitedly, tightly wrapping yourself around him and burying your in his neck.

“You’re feeling subby too?!” Harry whispers back, tightly gripping onto you to your body keep you up and around him.

“Mhm” you mumble in response, beginning to leave little kisses on his neck.

“Can I still call you mommy?” He whispers, desperately needing to figure out what was going on.

“Only if I can call you daddy.” You bargain, lifting your head from his neck to actually look at him.

“Deal. Can we take a bath, had a long day?” Harry agrees and asks softly before bringing his face in to close the gap between you two to plant a series of small kisses on your lips.

“Please?” You pout once he pulls away while nodding your head yes, signaling for Harry to carry you both upstairs. From then on, Harry rushes you both upstairs and directly into the bathroom that adjoined you guys’ bedroom. He sits you back down onto the floor before springing into action to get the bath ready. And even though it took a little longer than usual since you both were in your subspaces and neither of you were in control, you and Harry managed to create a peaceful little space for the two of you in the bathroom. Once Harry lit the final candle and you turned down the lights a bit, the two of you were immediately undressing yourselves so that you could sink into the the warm and inviting bathwater. Harry was the first to be fully undressed so he sunk down into the water first, followed by you sinking down into the water as well, only you were straddling his lap instead of resting back against him.

“Can I touch you mommy?” Harry mumbles softly, hovering his hands over your your thighs before lowering them onto you.

“Mhm, can I touch you too daddy?” You ask, mirroring Harry’s tone and disposition to which Harry gives you a little nod. And with that, you were wrapped around Harry while placing little kisses all over his neck as he slightly massaged your thighs and kissed on your neck as well while the two of you savored being close after a long and exhausting day of being apart.

As the relaxing cuddles continue on, you and Harry could feel yourselves becoming a bit tingly between your legs. You were not only sitting on his lap but you were also sitting directly on his cock while you laid yourself against Harry’s chest and littered kisses across the expanse of his neck. And in addition to that, he also left a slew of kisses and little marks all over your neck as he squeezed his large hands up and down your thighs, every once in a while coming all the way up to the dips on the sides of your center. To make it even better, the two of you were letting out little moans from your movements against each other which only fueled you guys’ subby need for each other.

“Feel so good against me mommy.” Harry pants into your neck, continuing to enjoy the way you moved against his cock. “Need t’be inside of you though mommy, can I please be inside?” He whimpers, feeling a throbbing sensation beginning to form in his cock.

“Need you inside so bad daddy.” You exclaim softly, feeling yourself grow even needier for him. “Wanna help put you inside.” You begin, lifting yourself up from his lap a bit so that you could take him inside. From there, Harry moved one of his hands from your things and to his cock where he blindly aligns his hardened cock up with your entrance. When you feel his head pushing up against you, you immediately begin to slowly sink down onto him, causing you and Harry to turn into complete messes.

The two of you were going insane as you sank down onto him. You were going insane over the fact that he was so big and that you could feel him stretching you to fit as he pushed further up and all the way to your stomach. Harry on the other hand was falling apart over how warm and soft your walls were around his cock. While you were sinking down onto him, Harry quickly made the decision to take one of your breasts into his mouth. He loved feeling your hardened nipples rubbing up against his as you laid against him, but whenever he was feeling subby, Harry always had one of your breasts in his mouth. So he didn’t even bother asking for permission, he just parted his mouth as wide as possible to take as much of you into his mouth as you sank down onto his cock and he contently sucked on you. When you felt him latch onto you in this way, you became even more whiney than before. He had his mouth on you and he was all the way inside of you. Your hands went straight to his hair, as you began to move your hips around in his lap. That’s what sent Harry into a frenzy. He had you on top of him for starters, his cock all the way inside of you, he had his mouth on one of your plushy breasts, and you were tugging on his hair which never failed to make his toes curl. Harry wasn’t going to last long at all.

“Feels so good daddy.” You whine out to him, beginning to move yourself around even more in his lap while keeping your fingers wound in Harry’s hair.

“Love being inside you mommy.” Harry moans after removing his mouth from your breast for a quick moment. “Y’so pretty and perfect.” He whimpers sweetly before bringing his mouth back to your chest.

“So are you daddy.” You moan, pushing you hips down into him a bit so that you could create some friction for your tingling clit. “Feel so full.” You breathe, feeling Harry pushing his hips up into you as tightly as possible.

“Can you ride me mommy, need t’feel you moving on me.?” He quietly asks, removing his mouth from your breast.

“Mhm, wanna feel you moving too though daddy.” You comply, beginning to move yourself up and down on him. “I love your cock so much daddy!” You shout as you continue to move on him, feeling the veins that were running up his shaft rubbing up against your walls.

“I love your pussy mommy, s’so perfect.” Harry whimpers shakily, tilting his head back a bit as he continues to meet your movements below the water.

As your movements against each other continued on, you and Harry could feel your releases bubbling up in your tummies as you whined and used your bodies for your pleasure. For Harry, his thrusts were becoming more frenzied and even less uniform than before. He could feel the knot tightening and he could feel himself becoming a bit floaty. For you, you were also losing your ability to keep yourself moving up and down on him instead of grinding but your impending release was making you go a bit weak from the waist down and feel a bit floaty as well.

“Need t’cum soon mommy.” He whines out to you through a series of pants.

“Me too daddy, feels so good!” You cry back, continuing to move your hips in every direction and digging your clit down into Harry. This continued movement pushes the two of you right to the edge of your releases.

“Need t’cum with you mommy!”

“Need t’cum with you daddy!” The two of you loudly whine and beg in unison, feeling yourselves beginning to slip over the edge into your releases. And before either of you could even reply, the two of you were letting go around each other. Harry latches his mouth right onto your breast as you moan right out into the space around you both. As he let go inside of you, your walls were convulsing around him as you let go as well, the both of you becoming sleepy and a little weaker in the process.

Once the two of you are completely finished, you and Harry just sit there in the now lukewarm bathwater, still recovering from your releases. It took a bit longer this time though since the two of you were were even deeper into your subspaces than before.

“I love you mommy.” Harry whispers, still feeling quite loopy and a bit weak from his strong release.

“I love you too daddy.” You whisper back, feeling the exact same way as Harry; floaty and weak.

Hopefully the two of you would manage to find a way to get out of the tub before you both turned into raisins; but for now the two of you were enjoying being close to one another as you rode out the amazing high from your releases.

Masterlist

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watchmegetobsessed · 4 years ago

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VALERIE - Part V. (Harry Styles)

happy sunday loves!! part 5 is here, buckle up bc we are getting down to business here!! thank you so much for the nice feedbacks, it’s always so moving and inspiring to read your thoughts, so please keep them coming! even if it’s just some gibberish rambling, those are the best haha! now let’s jump right into part 5, we are heading into the christmas mood and im so excited for yall to read this part!! enjoy!

word count: 6.1k

SERIES MASTERPOST

masterlist

By the time November nears its end you officially become a couple with Marcus. It happens gradually, two more dates follow your first one, and then on the third one you agree to test the waters of the possibilities between the two of you exclusively.

Marcus is a great guy. He is funny, caring and smart, always listens to you and cares for even the smallest details about you when you’re talking. He is great company and never fails to make you feel appreciated and wanted. Exactly what you’ve been looking for in a guy, Rosa really hit the nail on the head this time.

You easily fall into a habit with him. Fridays are for date nights, sometimes you go for little trips outside the city on Sundays and he never misses a chance to send you flowers throughout the week. He is just the type of guy that’s always there to cheer you up with something whenever the days start to weigh down on your shoulders.

You even have dinner together with Rosa and Steven one Saturday evening, Rosa keeps giving you those ‘I told you so’ eyes whenever Marcus kisses you shortly or places his hand to your waist. You mostly just roll your eyes at her, not wanting to make a big deal out of the two of you, but Rosa knows how long you’ve been trying to find someone.

What’s a surprising turn is that you start seeing Harry more. Intentionally. You have no idea how it happens, but it does and you’re not mad about it. Some days you grab lunch together whenever he is in the neighborhood, some days you go shopping with him when his sister doesn’t have the time. Harry is a problematic shopper, he takes a long time to decide on clothes so usually you are the one that forces him to choose and finish before all shops close.

When he has had a rough week and you happened to call him for whatever reason, the two of you agree to meet up for drinks at his place, then end up playing UNO for hours, slowly emptying out two bottles of wine.

It’s starting to get harder to imagine what it was like when things weren’t like this with him. When you were getting anxiety from just the thought of seeing him or having to talk to him. It’s like the both of you are showing a different version of yourselves to each other and you have to admit you enjoy being friends with him.

He keeps his habit of teasing you and making jokes about you though, but you don’t mind it. He is not doing it in a mean way with the attempt to piss you off, but to make you laugh and start a playful war where you both throw insults at each other until one of you runs out of it and just starts laughing. You feel a kind of dynamic building between you and him that has a way better effect on you than the continuous killing you were doing before.

You can tell Rosa is thankful for the change as well. Whenever she sees you interact with Harry without making a grimace or have that face that screams how badly you want to hit him, she is relieved that she has one less thing to worry about and Valerie will have two amazing godparents who even like each other.

Christmas is always a big parade in your family. Your mom and your aunts always want to celebrate together so in the past few years it has become a tradition to rent a place out that has enough space for the whole extended family and spend three days there from the 23rd to the 25th. This year your dad found a huge cabin in the woods with ten bedrooms and seven bathrooms, just the perfect size for you all. It’s gonna be your parents, Rosa and Steven with Valerie, Aunt Monica, Aunt Teresa with Uncle Andrew, your cousin Etta, her husband Joe and their two kids, your other cousin Lily with her husband Jeremy and their daughter, and lastly you and Harry. Though your mom urged you to invite Marcus along as well, he could join you for longer than a dinner, since he was already set to fly home to his family.

“You sure he can’t stay for at least the first night?” you mom asks on the phone one evening. You’re stirring the sauce in the pan. holding the phone to your ear with your shoulder so you have both of your hands free.

“Yes, I’m sure. It’s fine, he can come for dinner and then leave later.”

“I get it, but it would have been fun if he stayed,” she sighs, clearly disappointed that she couldn’t change what’s already set. If you’re being honest you don’t mind that Marcus is not staying for the night. You haven’t been dating for that long, you feel like it would be a little uncomfortable to have him there the whole time. A dinner is perfectly fine as a starter, since he hasn’t met anyone else from your family other than Rosa and Steven.

“Anyway,” she sighs moving on, “Have you figured it out how you’re gonna get there?”

“I don’t know, I guess I’ll tag along with someone.”

“Well, I think you should ask Harry. Everyone else is pretty packed already. Rosa and Steven won’t have any extra space with Valerie this year.”

You nod, even though she can’t see you. These past years Rosa always offered you a ride for the holidays, but even when they brought her over for just one night their car was jam-packed. No way you’re gonna fit in there so you are left with Harry since Marcus can only come in the afternoon.

“Sure, I’ll ask him.”

You shoot him a text that day and he replies right away that you’re welcomed in his car, though he won’t be able to take you back since he is leaving early in the morning on the 25th since he is flying back to the UK to his family. It’s fine, you think, you’ll just probably just tag along with aunt Monica back to the city, she always gets her a car for these occasions. Though it’s not your ideal option, she is not the best partner for rides, because she is a fan of smoking in the car, but you don’t have much of a choice.

“I’ll call you when I leave, okay?” Marcus tells you on the morning of the 23rd. It’s early, barely seven, but he is up because he needs to work a little today and you are finishing up packing since Harry will be here in an hour to pick you up.

“Sure. Drive safe,” you huff sitting on the edge of the bed, staring down at your suitcase that’s still not closed, clothes are sticking out on the side and you’re sure you’ll have to sit on it to pull the zipper.

“See you later,” Marcus says before you end the call.

It’s rather comical how you try to close the suitcase but you only care about the fact that you eventually succeed. Only minutes before eight you are packed and ready so when you get Harry’s text that he is outside you can leave right away.

Seeing you with your big suitcase he hops out of the car and rushes to help you.

“How long are you planning to stay, Y/N?” he chuckles lifting the bag up and you just shrug your shoulders with a smirk. You’ve alway been a heavy packer, no need to try to cover it up.

Harry throws your stuff into the back of the car as you take the passenger seat. His phone is hooked to the car, a playlist of his own playing gently through the speakers and you’re surprised to catch on the Christmas feeling in the songs.

“Are you in the spirit?” you ask when he gets into the car.

“Like to set the mood ahead,” he chuckles starting the car and off you go.

Ridiculous to think about it, but it’s actually the first time you sit in the same car with Harry or see him drive even. The way you two used to be was not quite ideal to have you locked up in such a small place as a car. But now you have nothing against spending the almost hour long drive with him.

“Can you pull out the navigation when I leave the highway? I’m not sure where exactly I need to head,” he asks you, eyes fixed on the road ahead of him and nodding you open the app on your phone so his can keep on playing the music without the voice of the navigation interrupting it.

“Excited to spend your first Christmas with us?” you ask. Though Harry was there at several family events, it’s his first Christmas since becoming Valerie’s godfather.

“I am,” he chuckles, nodding, hands gripping the wheel gently. He is a natural driver, easily working the car, the kind you feel completely safe next to. As Baby It’s Cold Outside comes on a smile stretches across your lips as you start gently bop your head to the song. “I’ve heard crazy stuff about Christmases at your family,” he adds glancing in your way for a second.

“Like what?”

“I remember when Steven told me about his first Christmas with your family. You remember that?”

Searching in your memories you tried to remember when was the first time Rosa brought Steven along. They dated for two years before they got married so it’s been about five years since then, but as you think hard the memory of that specific year pops into your head making you laugh as you nod.

“Oh, yes. The year Aunt Monica almost burned the Airbnb down,” you sigh grinning at the memory. She brought some special kind of cigars that year that were told to be curiosities from somewhere fancy, but they ended up the literal worst quality, flaming bits were falling out them all the time when she would smoke one, almost making the rug catch on fire wherever she went. Best thing is that she was already drunk on the liquor so she didn’t even notice, there was always a person on Aunt Monica duty, following her around, making sure nothing burnt down.

“Steven said he had a moment when he thought about bailing,” Harry tells you and you gasp, because that’s new information.

“Really?”

“Yeah, but like only for a split second after your dad walked in on him naked in the bathroom. That was kind of the last straw. Luckily Rosa could convince him to stay. Guess it all worked out at the end.” Harry smiles as he stares ahead of him.

You can’t imagine a version where Rosa and Steven don’t end up together. They met through a mutual friend not long after Rosa had a nasty breakup with her scumbag ex. Steven was there to put her back together and be her partner as she found herself again. The change and positive impact he had on her could be seen every day and you were so thankful to him for helping your sister find her way out of such a dark place in her life. It didn’t take them too long to start dating and he proposed a little more than a year later. You still remember how Rosa was screaming in the phone when she called you that evening telling you that Steven proposed. They are quite literally a match made in heaven. It’s been your goal in life to find this person in your life though you haven’t had much luck with men so far. Ironically, if you were in a room with every man you were ever involved with in any kind of way, Harry would be the only one you’d want to talk with. If you had to make this exact same choice just months ago you would have chosen to run out screaming.

“Maybe this year it’s your turn to get horrified from us,” you laugh, sinking down a little in your seat as you adjust the seat belt. You’re still quite far away from the cabin, you might as well make yourself comfortable.

“I think there’s not much that I haven’t witnessed yet. I was walked in on at the bathroom once too, but it was your cousin, Etta.”

“When did that happen?” you ask with a heartfelt laugh.

“I think it was last summer at one of your nieces’ birthday party. Luckily everything was already tucked away when she basically barged in.”

“She didn’t miss much,” you tease him with a smirk and your witty comment catches him by surprise.

“Are you saying my dick is not imposing enough to be worthy of peeking?” he asks with raised eyebrows and you’re happy he is driving. His intimidating look would already burn right into your skin by now, but he is forced to watch the road instead.

“I mean, if you want to put it that way…” you continue, but a laugh escapes your lips.

“Take that back, Y/N,” he orders, sneaking a hard look at you before turning back ahead, but you can see the small smile hiding on his lips.

“Or what?”

“Or you might find yourself in a war you don’t want to be involved in,” he warns you, but his words don’t quite have the effect on you he wanted. Because in a heartbeat you find yourself feeling… excited? Thrilled? Even curious about his means behind his words.

“Wouldn’t want to lie, so…” Pretending like you’re sorry you shrug your shoulders as Harry gives you a look that makes your stomach churn. Now either you are gonna have some fun teasing each other or… you just threw yourself into the arms of the Devil himself. Either way, you’re certain Harry won’t leave it in that.

Turning your head to your window you can’t keep your smile contained as you think of the fact that how big of a lie it was. Harry is surely not a guy who should ever worry about any aspect of his manhood. You’re talking from experience.

***

The cabin is absolutely gorgeous, just the perfect place for a cozy family holiday. Hidden from the busy roads with a secure gate and tall trees on both sides, the back of it is facing a majestic view of the valley and the evergreen covered hill in the distance. With an interior straight from the pages of a magazine, you need just a few moments to adjust to your surroundings upon arriving.

“I saved a nice room for you, Harry!” your mother gushes the moment she sees the two of you walk through the front door. You huff in annoyance.

“And what about me?”

Harry chuckles giving you a smug grin. “Guess you’re just second after me.”

“It’s his first Christmas with us, he deserves the better room,” your mom shushes at you, making your eyes roll instantly. It’s still hard to believe Harry has this kind of charm over most people.

After greeting everyone who is already there, your dad, Aunt Teresa and Etta with her family, your mom walks the two of you down one of the hallways that leads to several bedrooms. She stops at the last door with an excited grin on her face as she opens it revealing the bedroom behind it.

You instantly understand why she thought this is the best one. The view is absolutely breathtaking, the gentle noon light is flowing into the room through the floor to ceiling windows, the king sized bed facing them so when you wake up in the morning the first thing you see is the endless sea of evergreens on the side of the hill. Not to mention the room has its own bathroom, not many of the other rooms are blessed with that. There’s a spacious shower that has enough space for at least three people in there and it’s one of those fancy ones that can make you feel like you’re having a shower in the middle of a jungle, mood lights and bluetooth speakers attached to it.

“No fucking way Harry is getting this room!” you gasp as you look around, taking in the luxure your mother is willing to hand over to him.

“Jealous, much?” he smirks, throwing his sports bag to the bed already ruining the neatly made sheets. He does not deserve this.

“Mom!” you huff turning to her, but she has made her mind up already.

“Your room is nice too, don’t worry Honey. Let Harry have this one!”

“I really can’t believe you are taking his side,” you grumble under your breath, folding your arms on your chest as you take one last look at the stunning view.

“Come on, Y/N. He is a guest!”

“He is not! You said it yourself he is family now!” you retort and Harry just laughs behind you, so you shoot him a murderous look over your shoulder, that just fuels his entertainment.

“Don’t be silly. Your room is the second one on the right from here,” she smiles at you. “We are gonna take a walk around once everyone arrives, so get settled by then!” she informs you before walking out.

“Hey,” Harry’s soft voice makes you turn around. “You can have the room if you want.”

Your eyebrows rise at the kind gesture, it’s very not like him, even now in your friendly state, so it’s quite odd that he is willing to switch rooms with you.

“No need,” you shake your head grabbing the handle of your suitcase that you abandoned at the door.

“You sure? It doesn’t matter where I’m sleeping, really.”

“I’m not gonna deal with my mother’s scolding if she finds out I took your room, so you can totally stay.”

Harry chuckles as you head out, but stop at the door to have one last word with him. “Though I might occupy your bathroom, that shower looks nice.”

“All yours,” he grins before you walk out.

***

By 11 am everyone arrives and the once quiet cabin is now buzzing from life, children running around, Valerie’s babbling shoots through the spacious living area where Rosa set her crib up, your mother is already making preparations for dinner while most of the men are circled around the pool table having a beer since no one has to drive for the rest of the day.

“When is Marcus arriving?” Rosa asks, eyes on Valerie who is absolutely destroying something that once were an elephant maybe, but she’s been ruthless with the poor animal, chewing and throwing it around all the time, so it’s not just a grey, fuzzy mess.

“Sometime before dinner. He has some work to finish,” you tell her pulling your legs under yourself on the comfy couch.

“And explain again, why isn’t he staying for the night?” she turns to you with a puzzled look.

“Because he is going home to his family early in the morning tomorrow.”

“Okay, but he could have just left from here, didn’t he?”

“It’s… complicated. It’s better if he just goes back home tonight and then leaves from there in the morning.”

What you leave out of the whole explanation is that you didn’t really invite him to stay the night as well. Sounds horrible and ridiculous but you didn’t think you’d have felt comfortable with him staying. You’ve been dating for only barely more than a month and though things are going well, you felt like starting with just a dinner would be a better idea. Marcus didn’t question why you didn’t offer him to stay, it seemed like he was fine with just coming and then going after dinner.

Does this make you a bad girlfriend? Maybe, but you value your comfort and feelings more than to ruin your favorite holiday with your family.

Just as you mom said, once everyone is settled in their rooms for the upcoming three days, the whole gang dresses up to have a walk around taking the welcoming little path that runs around the cabin and is smooth enough for Valerie’s carriage as well. Your nieces and nephew are quick to surround Harry and nag him to join them at the front, exploring the woods surrounding the path. It seems like he doesn’t mind it and gladly takes part in the adventure, also secretly looking after them so their parents can have a break and enjoy the stroll in hopes the walk tires the kids out enough that they’ll willingly go to bed in the evening instead of whining to stay up late.

You’re walking with Etta next to you as she tells you about Hannah’s latest dance competition when you spot that Harry and Oliver, your nephew, Etta’s other kid are suspiciously whispering around pointing in your direction. At last Olly nods and runs up to you showing a quite thick piece of wood into your hand. You look down at him confused.

“Thank you?” you tell him a little unsure what it’s all about.

“I found it in a bush, I want to take it home. Harry said you’ll keep it for me because you have a good hand for thick and hard sticks.”

You almost choke on your own breath, as Olly just carelessly runs back ahead to join his sister. You immediately look over to Etta in fear that she heard what Harry told Oliver, but luckily she was talking with Joe turning back, not really paying attention to the conversation you just had with her son. If she did, Harry probably wouldn’t live by now.

Speaking of the devil, you look in his way and that annoying, smug grin is right there as he nods in your way saluting before he shows his hands into his pockets and turns back around to catch up with the kids.

That disgusting piece of shit really went into the depth of teaching something secretly dirty to your nephew as a way of payback for your comment in the car earlier. He surely wasn't just joking when he said you’d pay for what you said. And you have a feeling he is just getting started.

***

Aunt Monica is like a legend in your family. She is the oldest between your mom and her sisters, already in her sixties, but in the heart she still feels like she has just turned twenty. She never married, but had several men in her life, love affairs, short flings, but none of them lasted for more than a year.

“Why would I settle when there’s so many fish in the sea?” she once told you, her iconic Chanel sunglasses sat on her nose as she sipped on her martini.

She has worked many jobs throughout her life, she was once a dancer, she waited tables and even worked as a TV host at one point in the ‘80s. She was the true free spirit of the family, her sisters often questioned her sanity, but you think there’s nothing wrong with how she lived her life, enjoying it to the last bit. In the early ‘90s she was seeing a millionaire, probably the only man she would have given her lifestyle up for. Unfortunately, they never married, the man passed away due to his heart problems, however, since he had little to zero family he left basically everything to Aunt Monica. Money, house, cars, business, everything. Being the smart woman that she is, she handed over the business into professional hands but she is still the owner, so the money is still flowing even though she could have lived happily on the money she inherited without ever having to work a day.

She seems a little odd in your family, but she has always been a loving aunt to you, a caring sister and she never fails to take care of her loved ones. She is the one to pay for all these Christmas getaways, otherwise you wouldn’t be able to stay in places this nice.

“What’s all the money for if I don’t spend it on my family?” she always says when someone questions if she is fine with paying for everything. Your mom and Teresa have tried to convince her to let them at least pay for part of it but she wouldn’t even listen to them.

She likes to have her own, sometimes odd ways in life. She definitely has a drinking problem, but not in a dangerous way. You have never seen her completely wasted, she just likes to keep things buzzing and always have a drink on her whenever she needs the extra fun. Because of her past she has the greatest stories about meeting famous people back in the days or how soldiers used to try to win her over when she was just a teenager.

“Oh, those things happened,” your mom told you when one day you questioned if you could believe all the crazy stories Aunt Monica tells you. “She was like… the star of the show. Used to hate living in her shadow, but I can’t blame her for enjoying life and doing the things I was too afraid to do myself.”

Now you’re sitting in the sunroom that faces the amazing view behind the cabin, the Christmas tree is standing tall in the corner, beautifully decorated in white and beige. Valerie is snuggled up to your chest as you gently rub her back and you listen to Aunt Monica tell you about how a literal captain once proposed to her after just three days of knowing each other.

“He was a gentleman, but a beast in the bed, Y/N. I’m telling you, men in uniform are just a different level of satisfaction.”

She sighs deep, taking a sip from her margarita that’s definitely not her first drink, and you just laugh nodding.

“He was begging for me to go to Italy with him.”

“And why didn’t you?”

“Who said I didn’t?” she asks with a pretentious hurt look turning to you and you just laugh. You should have known the story would go this way. “I accepted the offer, only turned down his proposal when we sailed off and then we parted as soon as I stepped onto the land of Italy. Broke his heart into pieces, but I was too busy enjoying the Italian summer.”

Harry comes in and hands you a bottle filled with juice that probably Rosa sent for Valerie.

“Thank you,” you smile at him shortly as you adjust the little girl in your arms and hand her the bottle.

“Young boy, have you ever proposed to someone?” Aunt Monica asks Harry who stops in his way as he was already about to head out, but now he walks back to the sofa where she is sitting.

“No, not yet,” he shakes his head.

“And how do you think you would if the time came?”

You watch Harry think to himself at the odd and quite random question. It’s not really something you would have ever asked him, but now that there’s the chance to hear his answer you are listening curiously.

“Depends on the woman I’m proposing to,” he replies after a few seconds.

“How would you propose to Y/N?”

Your eyes widen as you turn to your aunt with shock all over your face. You definitely didn’t want yourself dragged into this.

“Aunt Monica, that’s--”

“Shush! I’m just asking theoretically. Wanna hear his answer.”

Harry’s eyes wander over to your sitting figure on the sofa as he leans onto the back of the one in front of him. You can feel the heat crawling up on your neck to your cheeks under his burning look and you just know he enjoys how nervous you got from this simple question that wasn’t even asked from you.

Licking his lips he moves his eyes from you over to Aunt Monica who is still waiting for his answer.

“Something romantic, but not too grandiose, I know she doesn’t like being in the center of the attention that much. Maybe…” Tapping on his chin you listen to his words and without even realizing you hold your breath. “Maybe on a hike with a nice view. She would be admiring the view when I get down on one knee and as she turns around I pop the lid on the box.”

What bugs you is that it’s an awfully accurate description of how you’d imagined your proposal. He was right about many aspects, like how you don’t like being in the center of attention. No idea how he nailed so easily, but he did.

Glancing down you pretend to be busy with Valerie who is still peacefully drinking her juice, eyes wandering around the room relentlessly.

“So you really look to satisfy her deepest fantasies, careful about even the smallest details. Women appreciate it,” Aunt Monica nods, completely oblivious to how uncomfortable she just made you feel.

“Thank you, I do like to satisfy women,” Harry cheekily answers with a smirk, eyes locking with yours for a moment as Aunt Monica lets out a laugh at the dirty comment. Before you could bite your tongue a retort slips out of your mouth.

“What a shame you don’t always succeed.”

Harry’s eyes turn from playful to dark pretty quickly and you enjoy the victory over him. Your comment in the car earlier already wounded his manhood, now it’s another stab right into his… crotch. It’s the least he deserves after what he taught poor Olly.

“That I don’t believe. He seems like an absolute pleaser.” Aunt Monica winks in Harry’s way who just smiles at her shyly, but you can tell your comment is still bugging him.

“I think Y/N knows that too herself, am I right?” He tilts his head to the side and you stand your ground with holding his gaze and not looking away.

“Don’t be so sure about that,” you simply say, just when you hear your mom calling out for you. “Would you take her please?” you innocently ask walking up to Harry, holding Valerie out for him. You can tell he is looking for a witty comeback, but he has nothing just yet, so he is stuck with keeping his mouth shut as he takes baby Valerie from you. You gift him with a sweet, but definitely spikey smile before leaving him there with Aunt Monica.

***

Dinner is already almost ready, you’re helping your mom and Aunt Teresa in the kitchen with the finishing touches, Joe and Harry packing out the wine bottles from the rack Jeremy brought them in, the two of them examining the bottles with such professionalism you almost believe they have the slightest idea about what to look for in a good wine.

“Should we open some red or white ones for tonight’s dinner?” Joe asks your mom who is the master chef when it comes to the dinner.

“Red would suit better,” she answers. “Are they sweet?”

“Some, yeah,” Harry nods holding up a bottle and checking the label.

“Great. Monica loves that too,” Teresa chuckles as she adds some salt to the mashed potato.

“And Y/N too,” Harry adds, not even looking up, but he successfully attracts your mom’s attention with his comment.

“She does?” Harry looks up and sees your boiling anger plastered all over your face, so of course he chooses to take it further.

“Oh, yeah. She can drink like a gallon. Wine drunk Y/N is like a whole different person.”

“I told you so many times not to get drunk, Y/N. It’s not too ladylike. When was the last time you saw her drunk?”

“There were plenty of occasions,” Harry exaggerates and you could kill him right there. “Though last time it was the tequila that got her wildin’.”

That damned smirk of his is making your hands curl into fists and for a moment you tell yourself it’s okay to punch him in front of your mother even if she’ll probably disown you for such behavior.

“Y/N! I have told you a million times that you need to know where your limits lie!” she huffs shaking her head at you while you clench your jaw. Back at it with the lessons about getting drunk. She’ll never get over it, not even when you’ll be forty. Why does it matter to her so much? Sometimes she is the one to get you started, but then she gives you the dirtiest looks when you have one too many. She should just get used to it now.

“She surely likes to have fun when she has had a few drinks,” Harry continues smugly. “Remember how much fun you had at Rosa and Steven’s wedding?”

“Oh, God! I remember how drunk you were that evening, I could have killed you!” your mother growls and you roll your eyes at her.

“It wasn’t that bad. There were a lot more people who got way more wasted than me,” you try to defend yourself folding your arms on your chest.

“That doesn’t change that you were too,” she says with a hard look. Great, now she is mad at you for something that happened literally years ago. Kudos to Harry for ruining her mood.

“She wasn’t that bad,” Harry adds and you look in his way with suspicion. “She was a delight when it was time to get her to bed.”

Your mouth almost hangs open, but it seems like you’re the only one understanding what he really meant by that. Luckily, beside you and him, Rosa and Steven are the only people who knows what happened between you and Harry that night, so it’s no surprise no one else catches on the hint.

“You were the one who took her up to her room? Sorry if she was a burden,” your mother sighs and right at that moment you wish the floor would just open up and you could disappear forever. Harry’s satisfied grin is the evidence that he just won another round of this nasty war.

Just as you open your mouth to try and move the conversation to another field you see a pair of headlights pull up to the driveway. Everyone turns to the window as Marcus’ car parks down last in the line. As you step away from the counter you see the confusion in Harry’s eyes about the new guest.

“Oh, amazing! He is here!” your mom cheers, seemingly instantly forgetting about how she was dragging you just a minute ago.

“Who’s here?” you hear Harry ask, but you’re already out of there, heading to the front door to greet Marcus.

Just as you walk out into the cold evening air you see him get out with a warm smile on his lips. You wait for him at the door, arms wrapped around yourself and as he reaches you he places a soft kiss to your lips.

“Hey, how was the drive?” you ask him.

“It was fine. I didn’t arrive too late, right?”

“No, we were just about to set the table. Come on in, I’ll introduce you to everyone.”

He takes your hand in his as the two of you walk inside, all eyes immediately turning your way at the arrival of your boyfriend.

“Everyone, I want you all to meet my boyfriend, Marcus. He is staying for dinner.”

Your family members walk up to the two of you, shaking hands and introducing themselves to Marcus who smiles at everyone politely, trying his best to remember all the names and information that’s thrown at him all of a sudden. Everyone seems delighted to have him for dinner, the kids instantly make him promise he’ll play a card game with them after dinner and he happily says yes to the invitation.

You can tell your mom is proud that finally both of her daughters are spending Christmas with a man by their side and you’re almost certain your dad took a liking to Marcus the moment he mentioned he is into fishing.

Everyone seems excited and happy for Marcus, there’s just one face that doesn’t fit in the line of joyful smiles. Harry stands quite far from the two of you and only gets closer when he shakes hands with Marcus. His cocky grin is long gone from his face as he keeps his hard look on your boyfriend who is chatting with everyone. Standing next to Marcus, your hand still holding his, your eyes lock with Harry’s and there’s an unknown, burning feeling in your gut when his hard gaze holds yours. The sudden change and cold act gets you wondering what’s really going on in his mind. He is the first one to look away and you watch him walk into the kitchen and disappear from your sight before you force a smile on your lips and turn back to Marcus.

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#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles series #harry styles imagine #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles valerie #harry styles valerie series #valerie series

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eagehaunting · 3 years ago

Note

“This bed is way too small for both of us…” for the bedsharing tropes, if you wanna?

Classic Trope Starters -- Bed Sharing

The van was cramped as all hell. For once, Arthur wished he just caved and pulled into one of the hotels they passed, but no. He had to keep driving further and further into the night, getting lower and lower on gas... until the four of them were literally stranded on the side of the road. Lewis's own questions on how much gas was left went ignored or dismissed under the assumption that they had enough gas to get to their next stop. Which would have been the case if their last canister wasn't secretly busted and leaked all of their precious fuel 30 miles back.

Vivi had forced Arthur away from the wheel, and then it was Lewis's wonderful decision to make him get his 'well needed' sleep. Then another brilliant idea of the two of them sharing the travel mattress in the back. Just like old times, Lewis said. Just until Vivi and Mystery get back with more gas.

Riding off the disappointing failure of getting them stranded, Arthur agreed. Now, Arthur was squeezed between Lewis's back and the wall full of crates and tools, nose buried in the crevice of his elbow, and regretting that decision. There was so little space. That or they grew way too much in the past few years, and sharing a mattress like they had in their middle school days wasn't exactly possible. Especially not with this mattress. It barely fit Lewis's body! Much less both of them! And Arthur was stuck with a heartbeat against his back and chasing away shivers that threatened to give away his discomfort. Behind him, Lewis was just sleeping peacefully, lightly breathing and probably dreaming of a time when things weren't so awkward and Arthur wasn't such a scre-... nope, can't call himself that, gotta practice positive self talk like Lewis asked him to.

It wasn't lasting as long as he hoped. Sighing into his arm, a grumble slips out, "This bed is way too small for both of us..."

"I know."

Arthur's eyes snap open, and he twists his head around to peer over his shoulder, and surprisingly, Lewis was as well. A small smile drifting across his apologetic features.

"N-no, It's fine, I just-"

Lewis scoots over and then rolls onto his side. Which so happened to be the very edge of the bed and there was a great chance for him to just fall off if they weren't careful. Not wanting that to happen, Arthur does the same, leaving a few centimeters between their chests.

It didn't help. Now instead of feeling every shift of Lewis's back and lungs against his, every breath was a minty and fresh and brushing against Arthur's cheeks. An accident, he knew, because Lewis never liked breathing in others faces, but it had his weak heart racing.

"Do you want me to move into the front seat?" Lewis asks, a sorrowful sound in his words.

"No! No, it's fine. S’okay. I-I can scoot up there if you-”

“No.” Arthur bites his lip and nods. Lewis wasn’t going to just let him up after getting him into bed, what was he thinking? “No, I would rather you stay here. Even if that means laying on you.” He laughs, and it warms Arthur’s chest a little, but Arthur nods and pushes his temple further into his pillow.

“Figured you’d say that, got it.”

“Not sure why you asked then,” Lewis pokes his rib and Arthur can’t stop his squirm and his returning poke, stealing a soft giggle from Lewis. After they settle, Arthur’s flimsy smile drops and he shrugs.

“I don’t know. You know me, mister worry wart.”

“I know, you’ve always been that way.”

“Well don’t rub it in, ey?”

“My bad~”

They’re both silent for a few seconds longer, smiles slowly falling from their faces, only for that silence to be broken by Lewis sighing and then propping himself on his forearm. “I have an idea, for dealing with the lack of space. Wanna hear it?”

Arthur quirks an eyebrow. “Yes..?”

“How about you lay on me?”

“... What?”

“On my chest,” Lewis pats his pec for emphasis, “there’s plenty of room, and it would solve our issue, and then you could maybe sleep better-!”

“B-but! Thats...! Thats pretty close-”

“So?”

“S-so? Thats- it’s way too close and-” Lewis is shifting back again, and his face drooping again and- “fu-fuck, I don’t mean it like- I wouldn’t want to b-but..”

Lewis stops, giving him a studious look, and Arthur’s words freeze in his throat. As well as all of his reasons, which suddenly felt way too exaggerated and far too silly. For his best friend of all people... He shouldn’t be this tongue tied over him!

“I mean...” Arthur swallows and forces his eyes to the window, “you and Vivi are... y’know, together! W-wouldn’t that be ... I-I dont know, a problem?”

This time confusion bleeds into that sorrow, and Lewis’s eyebrows pull up. “N-no...” he says softly, “Arthur, were we making you feel like you can’t be affectionate with us...?”

“It’s not that!”

He doesn’t say anything else, and once again the silence is back, and it’s a little too tense for Arthur’s liking. But neither of them say anything. Waiting for the other to start...

Arthur gulps back his apprehension. “It’s not like- you guys made it feel weird. I don’t want it to be weird, and I dont.. want to intrude. Cuddling... I know we used to do it all the time but- its-... I don’t know...”

“It’s different now?”

“... Yeah. It feel’s different.”

The frown on Lewis’s face doesn’t vanish, and Arthur’s not sure what he expected, but he desperately wanted to wipe that look from his face.

“I... I’m sorry. I- I would like to cuddle, actually.”

“No, its okay, Arthur.” The mattress sinks under Lewis’s hand and he’s pushing himself up, and Arthur’s heart is jumping into his throat and he’s jumping up as well, latching onto Lewis’s wrist, and they both freeze.

This... should NOT be this difficult. For several seconds, Arthur’s jaw doesn’t move, and hes staring at Lewis’s face and hoping that he would understand what he’s feeling... “I- I want to cuddle. I do. I promise, I ... I haven’t done it in a while. It’s...”

His features lax, “nerve-wracking?”

A nod, “very.”

Lewis seemed understanding. Their next movements were slow and cautious, with Lewis laying down and Arthur crawling on top of him. Despite them still wearing their undershirts, it felt... so intimate. Arthur sinks down and lightly hugs Lewis’s torso, resting his cheek on Lewis’s broad chest.

They both sit there, and soon Lewis folds his hands on the small of Arthurs back.

It served as an excellent reminder for why Arthur didn’t want to do this in the first place.

Lewis’s heartbeat was loud, and it beats hard in Arthur’s ear. Filling Arthurs mind with all the sensations that this closeness shot through Arthur. Telling him in great deal how many fantasies he had where Lewis hold him just like this...

His eyes mist, and Arthur wish they didn’t.

“Comfortable?” Lewis’s asks.

“Y-yeah, it is.”

He’s going to die here, isn’t he?

Vivi, please don’t get back soon...

#eage fanfic #msa #lewthur #lewis pepper #Arthur kingsmen #mystery skulls animated #nemesis is my middle name

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sonickedtrowel · 4 years ago

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#32 sounds like fun!

things you said I wouldn’t understand

Happy ever after doesn't mean forever. It just means time. A little time. But that's not the sort of thing you could ever understand, is it?

Perhaps not, the Doctor reflected, his knee bouncing impatiently beneath the table as they finally approached the end of their last course. (The food was delicious, probably. He hadn’t really noticed; too busy gripping River’s hand, in case she got any more daft ideas in between starters and dessert, and trying not to stare too much.)

Could he ever accept that a little time with her would be enough? Of course not. His entire being revolted against the idea with a ferocity that left him shaken. No amount of years or centuries, no number of lives with her could ever be enough. But they wanted the same thing, in the end: every last precious second they could get. That, he would gladly give her.

Things always fell so effortlessly into place with River. It had been wonderful enough just basking in her presence, but the instant she recognised him, they were together again. She slipped back into that intimacy without a hint of hesitation, and it felt as comfortable and as thrilling as it always had. Of course the Doctor had known she didn’t care which face he had on, but it was another thing to experience how joyfully she welcomed a new one. With decades of night ahead of them, he felt the sun was truly shining on this old face for the first time.

“Staring again,” River observed, startling him out of his reverie. She was covering a smile by dabbing her napkin at the corner of her mouth, but it did nothing to hide the light in her eyes.

“Ah,” the Doctor said, not bothering to feign embarrassment. “Sorry.”

“Is that a particular quirk of this face?”

“Not generally, no.”

“Missed me, then?”

“You could say that,” he said, his voice wavering.

She turned toward him, laying her other hand over his. “How long?”

A thousand years. Five billion. Forever. So long that his memories of her had begun to seem like an impossibly beautiful dream; too good to have been real, to have ever graced his undeserving life.

“Too long,” the Doctor answered. He wondered how she could look at him like that, with all the love and concern and understanding born of centuries of companionship, when just hours ago she’d been declaring he’d never loved her. River squeezed his hand between hers.

“Well,” she announced after a moment, “this was wonderful, but I couldn’t eat another bite. Shall we go, darling?”

He could only manage a grateful nod in reply.

With one long last look at the towers, they turned and made their way back to the TARDIS. River, evidently not in quite as much of a hurry as he was, stopped to speak to all the staff they passed on the way, lavishing praise on the meal and thanking them for the special attention they’d been given (as the original benefactors of the establishment, of course— not that he’d mentioned that bit to her yet. He’d get to it eventually.)

She was lovely when she was being kind and gracious, just as she was lovely when she was brandishing a gun at someone, but either way, the Doctor didn’t have the patience for dealing with other people tonight. He wanted her attention all to himself. They were owed a little selfishness, he thought, after all this time. When he placed his hand at her lower back, she took mercy on him again and said her goodbyes to the hostess, letting him steer her into the TARDIS.

The door creaked shut behind them at last, and a tense quiet descended over the room. This was usually the part where they stumbled up to the console between laughter and kisses, argued amiably over the controls as they took off into the vortex or some unoccupied corner of deep space, and he made a show of pretending to complain about her half undressing him before they even made it to the bedroom.

River looked at him, and with his palm resting on her back, he could feel the stiff hesitance in her posture. She was waiting, probably for a sign that he wanted that: to go on as if not a day had passed since they’d last been together. And, god, he’d never wanted anything more in his lives. But there was no pretending he hadn’t heard all the things she’d said today, not now. He was done with taking the easy way out, and it was up to him to put her doubts to rest. But where to even begin?

“So,” she said, flashing him an uncertain, tremulous smile. Always the brave one. “What do you want to…” she trailed off, her shining eyes searching his. Her lips were slightly parted in silent question, and as his gaze settled there, the Doctor decided all at once to throw out the order of priorities. Anyway, he was good at multitasking.

River made a strangled sound in her throat as his lips met hers, surprise trailing into an urgent whimper. They stumbled into the railing, and he pressed up against her, leaving no space between them for her to fill in with doubts of whether he wanted this. She grasped blindly for him, one hand gripping his jacket and the other winding into his hair. They fit together just as perfectly as he’d remembered, but no memory could compare to this. His tongue traced along her upper lip, and she tipped her head back, sighing with pleasure.

The Doctor worried for a moment that his knees would give out at the overwhelming feel of her, solid and warm and so alive, breathing sharply under his shaking hands. His mind clouded with the bright aroma of her perfume, the soft heat of her skin, the lingering trace of champagne sparkling on her tongue. He’d nearly forgotten what it was to love her and to have her. Centuries of grief and longing met with sudden, miraculous relief, and the shocking reality of it was almost more than his nerves could take.

He was shivering, but couldn’t bring himself to care if she noticed. That was really beginning to bother him, though, the more he turned it over in his mind— the noticing. Today’s events notwithstanding, River was far too clever not to have noticed a very long time ago that he was madly in love with her. He hadn’t exactly made a secret of it over the centuries. How, after so much time together, had he managed to fuck up this badly?

“Tell me, wife,” he mumbled in between graceless, needy kisses. “Where did I go wrong?” His hands fell to her waist, tracing up over her sides, the beading on her dress rasping under his fingertips.

“You didn’t, sweetie,” she breathed.

The Doctor huffed in disbelief. “You thought I didn’t love you.” He tried not to wince at the words. No matter how painful it was for him, it was worse for her. “You… think I don’t love you.”

“Oh, anyone can fool a lie detector,” she scoffed. “Don’t you think I accounted for that possibility before planning his murder right under his nose?”

“River, come on. Don’t do that. When you said it, you meant it. You meant it enough.”

“It, it’s not that—” she stammered, but he pressed on, forcing out the most difficult question before he lost the nerve.

“Did you always? Did you really always believe that, our whole life together?”

“Oh, darling, no,” she said, stroking his face. “Of course not.”

“Because— I’m not trying to make excuses, I know I can be rubbish— but I thought I’d been sort of extremely clear on that point? I’m, I’m sure there were a lot of honeymoons, and, uh, some poetry…”

River breathed out a soft laugh, her hand still resting against his cheek, and he leaned into her palm. She had no reason to be looking at him with such affection when he’d clearly been completely inadequate as a husband to her.

“It was just… after Manhattan,” she said, and glanced down, avoiding his eyes. “You were gone, and… after a while, I thought I’d rather pretend it had never been real, than admit I’d lost everything. I knew better. I did,” she insisted, when he frowned at her. “But it was… easier. To run off and get into trouble you wouldn’t approve of, and tell myself you didn’t care anyway.”

The Doctor let out a heavy breath, resting his forehead against hers. “You never lost me, River. You never could. You were always younger, after that. I should have come back for you, looked for you where you are now. But I thought if I did, I wouldn’t be able to hold this off any longer.” He swallowed tightly, choking back tears. “I’m sorry. I… I did ask you to stay.”

“I know.”

“I meant it. I’ve always wanted that.”

“Me too,” she whispered.

“Give me another chance?”

“Always. If that’s still what you want.”

“Wha— of course it is,” the Doctor sputtered, incredulous. “You’re my wife.”

“You do have others.” She made a good show of teasing him, but he knew better now.

“River,” he sighed, “those were weddings, not marriages. Any idiot can stumble into a wedding, but there’s only so many times you can keep coming back and still call it an accident. I think we were well past that number by our wedding night, dear. —Which,” he added as she laughed, smiling up at him through tears, “is also a thing none of the other ones had. I married you on purpose, and I’m going to stay right here with you on purpose, because I love you, and being with you is— it’s all I want. Is that okay?”

He was alarmed for a moment when River choked out a sob, but she was still smiling as she nodded, her tear-streaked cheeks shining. Then she took his face firmly in both hands and kissed him with such frantic passion that his head spun. Or, maybe not just his head. Before he’d quite figured out what was happening, she’d flipped them about so he was pinned against the railing instead.

“Oh,” the Doctor croaked. The sudden jolt of heat tingling through his body as he reflexively gripped her hips was another thing he’d nearly completely forgotten. It would seem he still enjoyed nothing more than River casually demonstrating she could kill him with her little finger, but had decided to do very nice things to him instead. It was just so her. His wife, the obstinate assassin. Not even a lifetime of brainwashing could compel her to do anything she didn’t want to do. Lucky bastard that he was, she’d decided she wanted to love him.

“Know what I said about how everything isn’t sexy?” he muttered. She pulled back just enough to raise an eyebrow at him. “I’m prepared to make an exception.”

River laughed, pleased and warm. “Aren’t you always?”

“Only for you, dear.”

“Mmm, good answer.”

“Bedroom?” he suggested.

“Thought you’d never ask,” she sighed. “But… we should probably park her somewhere other than the restaurant lobby first.”

“Oh, right. Good idea.”

They stumbled to the console between laughter and kisses, and bickered cheerfully over the map of their new home planet on the scanner, before deciding that moving her just outside the restaurant was good enough for now. There’d be plenty of time to settle in wherever they chose later.

“You know,” River said as they turned down the corridor to the bedroom, “since you mentioned it. You did write me the most lovely poetry. I keep them all in my diary. Have you written anything lately?”

“Er, written yes; poetry no.”

“Oh?”

“Electric guitar, mostly.”

“Really!” she exclaimed, delighted. “Now that is definitely sexy.”

“Yeah?” the Doctor asked, a grin spreading over his face.

“Very. What inspired you to take it up?”

“Ah, well, I don’t know,” he said, slipping his arm around her waist. “Guess I’m always thinking of a song.”

#dr fic #dw fic #river x doctor #twelve x river #the doctor x river song #i hate tagging things #Believe it or not I am still working through these asks!!#lmao I'm sorry I'm so slow anon #I hope you see this #and that it doesn't suck #I haven't written Darilliium 12 in a while #and I'm not sure if he really came back to me entirely #but this was still fun to do #Anonymous

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soyouareandrewdobson · 4 years ago

Text

Andy on Asian Animation or SYAC: The Master Review 2

Let’s talk a bit about anime and Dobson’s work relation with it.

I think we can all agree, that starting from the late 90s and early 2000s on, anime and manga became extremely popular in the western world. Sure, Japanese animation was nothing completely new to us (Speed Racer, Nadia-Secret of Blue Water, Samurai Pizza Cats, Sailor Moon, Kimba and Akira e.g. come to my mind as properties already known in the west before 1995) but it really was around this time that thanks to “mainstream” stuff like Dragon Ball and Pokemon people became aware of how different Japanese animation was from western. Eventually resulting in the really good shit (like Cowboy Bebop, Black Lagoon, Kenshin and Heat Guy J) coming over and enriching nerd culture for more than just a few people who knew of it as an obscurity at that point. Now, if you know anything about Dobson, you likely know that his relationship with anime is rather… complicated to say the least. Or, to let him explain it with his own words…

Dobson essentially likes silly and wacky 90s anime. But later on he hated anime in general, because it got too popular and a bad experience with an anime club in college soured his enjoyment of it. Furthermore, he put the blame on his lackluster art style and storytelling capabilities as seen in the likes of Formera, Patty and Alex ze Pirate, on anime in general, while also claiming that Disney pulling the plug on 2D animation is the result of the “anime inspired” Treasure Planet, meaning anime in a sense deprived him of his chance at working at his dream job and “ruining” western animation.

Which to me has always been ignorant as fuck. For starters, I can understand not liking certain stories or genres, either for objective or subjective reasons. But to hate on an entire nation’s form of entertainment (not just individual shows or genres), depriving yourself of the chance of potentially watching a lot of good stuff while also being rather insulting to these other works and people enjoying them? Especially when the stuff you can supposedly “stomach” has been rather simplistic compared to other things?

Second, blaming Japan for “poisoning” your art style? What, did the ghost of Osamu Tezuka possess you and FORCE you to put sweatdrops on your characters forehead while also going for the rather simplistic character style of Rumiko Takahashi, as well as emulating the slapstick of the likes as Slayers and Ranma ½?

Next, if he had emulated them successfully, I say he would have actually managed to tell decent enough stories worth to read online. Not create Uncle Peggy aka “Discount Happosai” or the bland proto-Isekai known as Formera.

I mean, let’s give some context here: There have been people who successfully managed to emulate certain anime and manga aesthetics into western animation and make it work. Otherwise we wouldn’t have gotten the likes of Avatar-The last Airbender, Samurai Jack, the Animatrix, Thundercats 2011, Super Robot Monkey Hyperforce Go, Kim Possible, W.I.T.C.H, Megas XLR and Wakfu. You know, shows that are actually awesome as hell.

Heck, Dobson’s favorite animated show of the last decade, Steven Universe, is heavily inspired by anime aesthetics to the point of being embarrassing.

But Dobson… well, he emulated anime aesthetics in his work the same way as these crimes against animation did.

Combined with his general shortcomings as a storyteller it is no wonder his initial comics did not do well.

Lastly, and sorry for digressing here a bit, but if the Wikipedia entry on Treasure Planet is something to go by, there was no real inspiration by anime involved in making this movie.

Supposedly the idea of making an animated Treasure Planet in outer space movie was already pitched by Ron Clements WAY BACK in 1985 but only came to be after Michael Eisner greenlighted stuff in the late 90s. Design wise the movie was supposed to look 70% traditional and 30% sci-fi inspired and people took inspiration for the art style by illustrators associated with the Brandywine School of Illustration. A western style of illustration established in the 19th century, that had a big impact on the illustration styles for many 19th and early 20th century adventure novels and short stories.

What, is anime supposed to be the only form of animation allowed to have sci fi elements or steampunk in it? Fucks sake, The Lion King and Atlantis, which came out one year earlier to Treasure Planet, were likely more inspired by anime. Don’t believe me? Watch Atlantis and then a certain anime by Studio Gainax called “Nadia-Secret of Blue Water”. Or read up on the controversy surrounding the two.

The truth is, it is not entirely clear what caused Disney to shut down 2D feature film animation in the early 2000s. In fact, if anything, most people put the blame on Michael Eisner and a certain change in the publics taste in movies in general, combined with Disney trying to turn almost every movie they had into a franchise via cheap follow up movies on video and DVD.

And even if Disney did not shut down, are we really supposed to believe that a certain guy with fedora would have made it big at Disney to the point Alex ze Pirate would have been made into a feature film?

But Dobson could never quite understand this and instead of “reinventing” himself properly, he would rant about anime and its fans in one form or another…

And on the peak of his hissy fit create this little art piece he baptized Anime Sux. Alternatively “West vs East”. Or as I like to call it, slap a jap.

Now, the pic was done in 2008 and Dobson claimed sometimes in the last decade, that he no longer holds his old opinions. Unfortunately, by that point he would also more or less use the chance to vent in his webcomic about anime (or rather its fans), which brings us finally back to SYAC.

While Dobson never outright thematized in more detail WHY he hates anime and manga in SYAC (likely cause if his comic reasoning was even slightly like his reasoning in his blogs, people would have torn him apart like a bag of paper) he did use the format to punch down on anime fans and their preferences.

For example, for someone who has a 4chan story going around of having been rather arrogant towards others in college for not liking Ranma ½, Dobson has THIS little college related comic to show off, where he portrays an aspiring manga artist as a delusional jackass.

Then in this strip titled manga, his manga fan is essentially portrayed as a young woman dressing up like a very stereotypical high school anime girl, who is in the wrong for even just DARING to draw her comics in the direction manga are read.

On one hand, I get Dobson’s point. She could be at risk of alienating a market of readers as she is obviously drawing for a western audience. Then again, if she doesn’t draw a traditional western comic but a manga, why shouldn’t she? I mean, as long as she enjoys it, which I assume she does as she seems genuinely just happy when stating that she likes manga, why not let her? Plus, this comic was drawn in the late 2000s. I think by then most people kinda knew how to read from right to left, so Dobson’s claim she would alienate or confuse people is kinda redundant. If anything I find a) Dobson getting angry at her just very petty (just let her have fun) and b) portraying a western manga fan as someone who would be confused by the sheer idea of reading stuff from right to left is also in itself just really dumb and insulting. What is Dobson trying to imply? That anime fans are so stuck in the way they consume certain media, they can’t act according to “western standards” again?

Then there is this strip where yet another female anime fan is essentially portrayed as the embodiment of how “ignorant” manga fans are of the idea of different art styles...

Which becomes rather laughable once Dobson describes his style as a mixture of European, American and Japanese. Why? Because he is the one oversimplifying things, rather than the anime fan.

You see while anime and manga of all sorts do share certain aesthetics (like the black and white art style, emphasize on the eyes of characters, the way hair is drawn, recurring tropes within certain genres and so on) style wise (both in art and storytelling) there can be severe differences, depending on the artist alone. Akira Toriyama’s style differentiates significantly from the likes of Eichiro Oda, Rumiko Takahashi, Kentaro Miura, Tezuka, Kaori Yuki and so forth.

The same also goes for many western artists. Herge had a significantly different style from Uderzo and Goscinny. Don Rosa has a different style in which he drew Scrooge McDuck than Carl Barks did. Rob Liefeld and Jim Lee draw mainstream superheroes differently compared to how Jack Kirby, George Perez and others did. Heck, Ethan Van Sciver and Jim Lee were closely associated with Green Lantern in the 2000s and look how they differentiate.

Which btw is the kind of skill level Dobson would have needed to have, to make it in the mainstream industry

So when Dobson says “I draw in a combination of American, Western and Japanese” all I can think is the following: THAT DOESN’T NARROW IT DOWN! WHAT THE HECK HAVE YOU LEARNT IN COLLEGE ABOUT COMICS? WHICH ARTISTS, WORKS AND STORYTELLERS DO YOU TRY TO EITHER EMULATE OR HAVE BEEN INSPIRED BY?

Then there is this little thing…

Where do I even begin? How about the fact that Dobson’s hand in the last panel looks like he has lost a thumb? The fact that the little boy, anime fan or not, is aware of Sae Sawanoguchi, a character from a short lived OVA and anime series from the 90s, which considering his age, I kinda doubt he would be aware off. Unlike Dobson, who got into anime in the 90s and admits in fact within the posts I loaded up earlier, that he had watched the anime in particular, known in the west as Magic User Club.

Then there is the implication by Dobson, that anime is so “corruptive” as a medium, little kids don’t even know the most basic characters in western animation because of it. I expect in a next panel, that all of sudden some 50s PSA guy comes along and lectures me that if I want this kind of thing not to happen at MY convention, I need to teach little kids more about the GOOD western animation, instead of the BAD eastern one. Then there is this rather unflattering portrayal of a shonen ai/shojou ai fangirl…

Which makes me laugh cause honestly, even some of the worst shonen ai and shojou ai can do better in portraying a “realistic” gay relationship than Patty if you ask me.

Also, as much as I think fangirls can be extremely thirsty (I have read my fair share of extremely stupid yaoi and yuri fanfics) I think that in hindsight Dobson is really not anyone to complain about shipping obsession and sex when he himself has KorraSami, the Ladybug fandom and a certain rat pirate under his floppy belt.

As you can imagine, Dobson would get heat for those comics, considering how he himself has been greatly inspired by anime and manga for his major comics. And while I don’t have any explicit deviantart posts of him reacting to criticism in that regard, I do have this comic which addresses it directly.

And yeah, if I were schoolgirl number 4, I would just sigh and walk away after telling Dobson that his mistakes and shortcomings are not related to having consumed anime, but rather by what sort of anime (and other stories) he had consumed and the amount of effort he had put in creating his stories instead of emulating just something more popular. Plus, if you really want people to draw more from life, how about drawing more from life yourself down the line? And no, tracing Star Wars movie frames does not count.

Finally, Dobson, considering how very little most people think of your work, I say mission accomplished: People have learnt from your mistakes and know not to be a Dobson.

And at last, there is this comic, which kinda wraps up Dobson’s “vendetta” with anime and manga fans within the pages of SYAC.

By trying to mock anime fans and make them look just as shallow as he is. I at least suppose. Honestly, the message of this comic is rather muddled. On one hand, I would say the strawman accusing Dobson hates anime just because it is popular is very simplified. After all, Dobson has made his reasons for not liking anime clear in a few more details. It’s just that the details in and on themselves in real life are still rather shallow and boil down to a lot of personal bias rather than an objective criticism of actual flaws. Which I think is worth pointing out.

But frankly, what is Dobson trying to say or point out here? That the strawman is not so different or even dumber than him, because he hates Justin Bieber for “shallow” and superficial reasons too?

Okay, this doesn’t quite work as well as Dobson wants. First, the argument Dobson’s strawman makes is in huge parts based on some verified statements Dobson made for not liking anime. Second, he just says a name and that triggers the guy to express his hatred for Bieber. We don’t know why the guy hates Bieber and you could make in fact the case, that he hates him not because he is popular, but because he has a genuine issue with the artist, his work or his behavior as a human being. Third, if you want to make yourself look like the better person Dobson, try to argue with the guy and make solid arguments why you don’t like anime. Instead you just deflect the criticism by changing the subject and then try to make yourself look like the “smarter” person in the room by mocking your critic in the most condescending manner.

Which as I think about it, sounds like your modus operandi on twitter and tumblr.

Weirdly enough, that more or less marks the “end” of Dobson tackling anime fans and the beef he has with them within the pages of SYAC. Despite how much Dobson’s negative reputation especially in early years was build around him hating on anime and belittling its fans, he didn’t really do more afterwards in the Dobson focused pages of SYAC. And mind you, those strips were also separated by other strips in-between, focused on Dobson just being at conventions.

Unfortunately for him, the strips didn’t really help in any way to diminish that negative reputation and instead just confirmed for many, that Dobson can’t handle criticism about his flawed opinion on anime. If anything, it just made people think even less of Dobson, as the strips just painted him as someone who would rather portray his critics as strawman he can be “rightfully” annoyed at, instead of fellow humans with slightly different tastes in entertainment, who are still worth listening to.

So, now that we have the anime fan related “annoyances” out of the way, what other sort of silly problems in making webcomics would Dobson cover in his strips and are “relatable” to everyone?

Lets see some of these examples in the next part.

#anime / manga #manga #Andrew Dobson #fuck you Tom Preston #Tom Preston #syac #so...you are a cartoonist #so you are a cartoonist #review #webcomic #comic #adobsonsartwork #adobsoncomic #adobsonartworks

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rosy-cheekx · 4 years ago

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Or, if you're more in the mood for something fluffier, “It’s too cold for you to come out here without a jacket on” from the protective sentence starters!

Combined this prompt with your “ for the holiday fluff prompts, how about any combination of one or more of these: ❄️ ☃️ ☕️ 🥘 🧩 ~ “ and went with flurries + holiday coffee date. hope you don’t mind it being a little derivative!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28370325

It had been a few years since there had been a white Christmas. Snow in London didn’t last long anyway; it would be snowplowed off the streets and turn gray and slushy or melt under the trampling boots of passerby on their way to work or school. This meant that even when it did snow, no one held out much hope for it to last longer than a day, two at most.

All this to say that Jon didn’t think much of the snow when he saw the flurries drifting outside his bedroom window. It had clearly just started snowing– didn’t even seem like it was sticking. He really didn’t think he’d need a coat. His bus route took him less than a block away from the institute and he resented the way his puffy winter coat made him feel: bulky and heavy, restricted at his joints. His thick white woolen sweater, made with oversized yarn and thrown over his collared shirt, would work fine. He thought he looked rather fit like this, hair half-knotted and curling over his shoulders. Tim would give him shit for having an “academia” aesthetic but, he “worked in academics, Tim. Every aesthetic I have is an academia aesthetic.”

Jon was, as usual, the first person to arrive at the archives. Diligently, he began his workday ritual, cranking up the thermostat and pulling the day calendar on his office wall to reveal the 23 December and chuckling to himself at today’s cat: all grey and massive, green eyes staring at the observer innocently. Sasha was next, blustering in her red peacoat, calling a greeting, and shaking it off before hanging it on the coat hook in the bullpen. Then came Martin and Tim, who had begun carpooling after realizing they lived less than two blocks away from each other. Greetings from the pair, “Happy Early Christmas”es. Now, the quiet, empty archives hummed with life and warmth. Jon, now seated his desk in his small office, could hear the chatter taking place in the main office space, the electric kettle humming in the breakroom, the Christmas music being argued over from the small speakers. All felt right. The Archivist smiled to himself and settled into work.

“What the hell? Tim!”

“That wasn’t me, Sash! I’m right here!”

“Calm down, you two. It was just the lights.”

The commotion outside his office confirmed to Jon that he wasn’t the only one whose office lights had suddenly blinked once and cut out. For just a moment he was reminded of Julia Montauk’s story about Mr. Pitch, but shook his head. They were fine. He stood and made his way to the breakroom, eyeing the also dark room, now lit by three phone torches. Being the underground section of the Institute meant they didn’t have much by way of windows, save for the single squat one high up in the breakroom, and Jon could see from here something was blocking the light that usually streamed through.

“I think it’s the whole Institute,” Jon offered unhelpfully. “Can one of you ring Rosie and check?” He turned and wandered absently into the breakroom to investigate the window. It was covered with snow. Frowning, Jon grabbed a chair and dragged it beneath the pane, climbing and pushing on the window.

“I think you need to unlatch it.”

“Jesus Christ, Martin!” Jon swayed and recovered his balance. How could he not hear such a large man come up behind him? He did try the latch though and pushed again. Once, twice, th-

“Fuck! Cold, cold, cold!” The snow that had piled up against the window had shifted and fallen through the gap Jon had so helpfully created; his face, glasses, and sweater generously dusted with cold and white. He sputtered and brushed it off himself, feeling dot of cold seep into his skin. The pane had been cleared though, and Jon could see, as he shoved the window closed again, blustering snow sweeping through the alleyway the window looked out on to. Jon turned back, seeing Martin’s face red with the effort of suppressing a laugh. “It’s snowing. Hard.”

“Yeah,” his voice wavered, lips parting in a warm smile. “I-I guessed that.” Even so, Martin offered Jon a hand and he took it, stepping off the now-wet chair with little grace. “Let’s see if there’s word from Rosie. Sasha was calling her when I came in.” Jon nodded wordlessly, holding Martin’s a little too long (it was so warm! And he was so cold) before letting go and leading Martin into the bullpen.

Sasha was lounging in her office chair, a finger curled in her thick hair, with her legs on her desk and her free hand holding her mobile to her ear. She was nodding, brow furrowed, and kicking Tim idly, who was perched on her desk, feet perched on the handles of one of her desk drawers and shining his torchlight in her eyes while she scowled at him. “Alright, brilliant Rosie. Tell Elias we send our warmest, fondest regards. Especially Tim. Oh—What’s that, Tim?” She eyed her perched friend mischievously; his eyes were wide, and he shook his head vigorously. “Oh. Tim says to tell Elias that he’s deeply in love with him and has been since the day he started.” She listened for a moment and nodded gravely. “Mmhmm. Thank you Rosie. I’ll let him know. Happy Christmas!”

“You little-”

Jon cleared his throat and Tim snapped his head up, eyes alight with mirth. “Bossman, I’m being slandered! You can’t expect me not to defend myself.” Jon chose to ignore his comment, though his expression was soft.

“Sasha, any word from Rosie?”

“Mhmm. Two things. Firstly, power’s out in the whole building. Apparently there’s a bit of a blizzard. Elias said we can have the day off. Secondly, Elias said he’s promoting Tim to his personal ass-isstant.” Tim howled and lunged at Sasha, who was giggling madly. Martin had lost it now too and was chuckling behind his hand at the scene of the taller woman scooting away on her rolling office chair from her dear friend. Even Jon scoffed, eyes following the pair affectionately. Jon didn’t notice he was shivering until he felt a warm hand on his shoulder. Looking up, he saw the silhouette of Martin.

“Are you cold? I’m feeling it too. I think the heat’s off with the power.”

Jon shrugged noncommittally, turning his eyes back to the vague forms of Sasha and Tim, who had given up on their wrestling and were sharing the office chair, Tim lounging across Sasha’s lap and scrolling on his phone. At this, Sasha perked up, nudging Tim. “If it’s gonna get cold in here and we have the day off, we should go get coffee! There’s a cute new place across the street from the park. Steamed Beans or something.”

“Beaned Steams,” Tim mumbled under his breath, extricating himself from Sasha’s lap and getting to his feet, smoothing back his hair before refluffing it expertly. “I’m game. But Sasha’s buying my drink because she’s being a bully.”

Martin nodded, rocking on his toes behind Jon. “I’m in. But the snow is intense. Bundle up if you don’t want frostbite.”

Silence stretched in front of Jon. Of course he hadn’t thought to bring a coat today. There was no way his sweater could weather the snowstorm going on outside. He’d have to say no and wait it out, hope the snow dies down. Or he could just embrace it. The park wasn’t that far away…Four or five blocks. Not far enough to call a cab and too far to walk unprotected. Shit.

He’d been quiet for too long. The other three were poised, waiting for his response. “I don’t think you would let me say no if I tried,” he relented. Tim whooped and clapped Jon on the shoulder as he passed him, grabbing his coat and winding a scarf around his neck.

“That’s the spirit, Sims! C’mon, get your coats and we’ll leave before the weather gets worse.” Jon meandered into his office, the chill hanging in the air, and searched the room for any abandoned coats he may have left behind. He was a bit forgetful (and a bit of a packrat) but he was pretty sure he’d taken home his forgotten clothes before Halloween, when Tim was threatening to dress up as him for the archive party Sasha had hosted. The only thing he found was a pair of fingerless gloves, abandoned in his desk drawer. He slipped them on, flexing his hands against the knit fabric, and shrugged inwardly. It would have to do.

Jon closed the door to his office, locking it as he did so, before turning to see his assistants standing in the hallway, wincing at the lights they shone at him. “Jon? Where’s your coat?” Sasha’s voice was equal parts accusing and patient, like reminding a child to wash their hands.

“I-well, I didn’t bring one today,” Jon flushed like he had been caught in a lie. “The snow wasn’t that bad when I left the house. And I, I don’t like the way it feels to wear one.” He held up hands helplessly. “I have these.”

Martin crossed his arms over his vested chest and the tails of his scarf. “It’s too cold for you to go out there without a jacket on. Too windy. You’ll catch pneumonia and die or something.”

“You can’t catch pneumonia like that, Martin. It’s a wives’ tale.” “You get what I mean! You can’t just wear a sweater and button up and fingerless gloves of all things and call it winter gear.”

Tim was stroking his chin thoughtfully, head cocked. “Would the old married couple shut up? I think I have something.” He took off his coat and unzipped the inside, extricating a fleece lining from the waterproof shell. “Here,” he draped it over Jon’s shoulder when he refused to take it. “If you don’t wear it, Martin has to buy all our coffees. You wouldn’t want to do that to sweet ol’ Marto, would you?”

Jon shrugged on the coat, grateful for the dark to hide his scowl and blush.

Sasha let out a noise of realization. “Oh! I have something too.” She disappeared and returned in less than a minute, holding out a knitted cap of some kind. “I keep a spare for when it’s too cold down here.” The inside was soft, lined with silk or satin or something, and Jon could feel some sort of applique on the side. Realizing there was no way he was going to win this fight, he tugged on the hat, frowning at the way it squished down the knot of hair he had so carefully arranged to be just the right amount of messy and structured.

Martin was stepping forward now as well, stooping slightly to wind a scarf around Jon’s neck and gently tucking the ends into the neck of the fleece. “Uh, here.”

“I-hm,” Jon struggled for words, feeling warm from more than just the new apparel. “Thank you, all of you, I suppose. I’ll-ah, I’ll give them back to you after.”

“No rush!” Tim nudged Jon with his shoulder as he grabbed Sasha’s hand, pulling her through the hallway to the stairwell. “Come on, I need the most expensive drink they sell in my belly, pronto!”

As the Archival staff left the Institute, they waved goodbye and wished a Happy Christmas to Rosie, who was packing up her own desk. They pushed themselves through the rotating door, immediately bowing their heads against the blinding white snow and the buffeting wind.

“Shit,” Martin said, pocketing his glasses. “No point in having these out. The one day I don’t bother with contacts. Are we sure we shouldn’t cab?” Jon glanced at the road, somewhere between slush and ice.

“I don’t trust lorry drivers on a good day.” Martin hummed an agreement.

Sasha led the way, the four keeping tight together against the wind and cold, the whirling of the snow drowning out all conversation, save for Tim’s occasional directions via his smartphone. Jon removed his own wire-rimmed glasses eventually, tired of them fogging up and of the snow melting into blurred spots, obscuring his vision even more. Martin held out his hand and Jon passed them over for Martin to put in his pocket. There was no one else out on the streets, no cars, no people. Jon imagined as they walked that they were the only four left in London, cursed to wander alone forever. His theory was proven wrong, however, when eventually the warm orange lighting of the coffee shop beckoned, the name Bean Village painted on the window.

“I think Sash’s name was better,” Tim declares in a low voice as they stamp their feet against the welcome mat and shake off snow from their hair and clothes. Jon removes the knitted cap to see the faux leather flower applique and the embroidered “S” he hadn’t been able to see in the dark, chuckling to himself and stuffing the mauve hat in his pocket. Their faces were all various toned shades of pink and the heavy heat of the air of the café, smelling strongly like coffee beans, vanilla, and cinnamon, made Jon’s once-numb nose and cheeks tingle as they were brought back to life.

Jon squinted at the chalk-written menu, moving to push up his glasses only to feel his hand falter when he found the nosepiece not there. “Oh-uh, Martin. Can I have my glasses?”

Martin frowned. “Ah, huh? Oh! Yes-yes, of course, sorry!” He fumbled for Jon’s glasses, drying the remaining melted snow on the hem of his shirt before handing them back.

The Magnus Institute’s archival staff were the only four customers in the store at present and made a point to order probably more than necessary, scones and muffins (blueberry for Martin and Sasha, cinnamon for Martin, a pumpkin muffin for Jon) in addition to the teas and coffees (chai lattes for Jon and Martin, a caramel latte for Sasha, and some sort of ridiculously sweet mocha for Tim), despite it being barely eleven in the morning. Jon saw Martin make a point to slip some extra money into the tip jar as well, feeling warmth bloom in his chest as he decided to do the same.

Honestly, this, squeezed into a booth, leaning into Martin’s side, with Tim and Sasha across from him, chatting, swapping stories, and sharing some institute-related memes Tim had drawn up on his phone, was the best Christmas gift Jon could have imagined.

#the magnus archives #tma #tma fanfic #season 1 archive gang #s1 polycule #kinda?#not officially but its the vibes that count #timsash #jmart #at the least #holiday fic

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multi-fandom-inserts · 5 years ago

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My Salvation.

Peeta Mellark x Reader

Warnings; PTSD? Smut. Family/Friend Death.

I did change some facts in this just so it all could fit together, I love the Hunger Games so send more imagines if you want them!!

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The early morning sea was calm and peaceful, the gentle air carries the warm water plastering your face and dampening your hair, the golden sun peaked over the horizon, erupting a series of beautiful colours across the dim sky. Out on the sea is the only place you can breath easily, the song birds cleared your mind, the sea creatures beneath the surface swam freely helping to keep the demons at bay, for a while that is, the calm before the storm is something you'd grown accustom too and it's unsettling; and it isn't long until you hear the screams and then, the cannons.

The weighted switch blade in your palm rocks back-and-forth, glistening of the metal reflects in the sunlight as it moves. A few years ago the sight of a knife like this would of reminded you simply of your job on District 4's fishing boats, but now it carries an entirely new reality, the blood that coated your skin had absorbed deep and something you cannot wash off no matter how hard you scrubbed.

Engraved into the blade of the knife are the words, “Remember who the real enemy is.”

Those words echoed in your mind a lot, always in the silk voice of Finnick Odair. You remembered the first time those words were whispered to you. He was stood in front of you, hands grasping your shoulders as you both stood in the seal, bare room across from the glass tube, awaiting the orders for you to step inside. He then hugged you tightly, kissed your forehead – the small space between your eyebrows – and then, smiled sadly. But, the second time was different, he didn't whisper it to you, he said it loud, clear and full of fury whilst stood in the Tributes Centre... well, it was called the Victors Centre this time, the night before the Quarter Quell, he slipped the knife into your pocket and told you to hide it wherever you could in your clothing before facing the arena for a second time.

Dropping the knife to your feet, tears swelled in your eyes as flashbacks of Finnick pierced through your brain, he had raised you in many aspects, he cared for you, mentored you and protected you. The day he died – well was murdered – haunts your dreams and terrorizes you everyday.

After the fall of he Capitol government, the districts opened to everyone, allowing travel between the areas and allowing people to move between, find new jobs and create new lives. Families no longer lived in terror and everyone began to live again. The less fortunate districts such as Twelve began to rebuild and flourish, those that had hidden in the rubble of Thirteen were able to walk around in the sunlight again. Everyone just came alive again.

Many victors such as yourself remained in their home districts, change was something non of us really wanted to face, well, all expect one, Peeta Mellark was someone you'd never expected to meet in the hailstorm that erupted, but you're glad you did. The District 12 victory unknowingly became your anchor, you had spent a lot of time together in District 13, primarily due to the torture chambers in the Capitol and the infirmary in Thirteen were you'd both been held.

In the process of losing those you'd loved – Katniss being Peeta's person – you found each other.

Soppy stuff, right?

Not wishing to dwell on the past, you pushed yourself to your feet to pull the engine starter cord before heading for land. Once docked, you collected the knife and walked back to your house. The Mayor of the Districts insisted that previous Victors kept their houses in Victors Village.

Pushing the door to your home open, you threw the switch blade onto the kitchen counter and signed heavily, dragging your hand across your face in an attempt to pull the vicious and violent memories from your head. Peeta watched you from the doorway to the kitchen, he watched as your small hands grasped the kitchen surface so hard your knuckles became white, your shoulders were tense but your breathing was heavily, but even.

It wasn't long before he heard a sob echo from your body, throughout the years Peeta had watched you fight your demons, he'd watched you fight for your life, kill and murder innocent kids and even attack those in the Quarter Quill, but you were different than the others he'd met, you attempted to keep your humanity, many victors just threw it away once they'd won. But you, it wasn't that you didn't feel guilty about what you did but you knew you were forced.

Kill or be killed.

Peeta was the only other than knew that, despite not killing in his Hunger Games, he knew the mentality. He honoured it, thought and pondered about it whilst watching you. Today was different, your episodes usually extended to a max of fifteen minutes in the house – yes he had timed you – but as he noticed the date on the calender, he knew.

It's Finnick's birthday.

“Hey.” Peeta spoke aloud, but you didn't jump.

You turn, wiping the tears from your eyes, “Hey, been standing there long?” you ask innocently, you knew he had been.

“Why don't we go see Annie?” Peeta asks, “I'm sure she'd love to see you.”

you shake your head, “I will, not now, I can't let her see me like this, It'll – ”

“Only make her worse, I know.” Peeta said, walking towards you and standing in front of you, “Why don't I help distract you?” Peeta smirked before grabbing you by the back of the legs and lifting you with ease onto the kitchen counter, parting your legs at the knees giving him enough space to slip between them, hands on your hips as his thumbs gently rubbed circles into your hipbones, “Have I ever told you how much I love you?” he whispers, leaning in, gently brushing his nose against yours before kissing you feverishly.

The pair of you break apart for air, both breathing heavily as your hands rest on his shoulders, his still on your hips, “I mean, feel free to tell me more, but I'm sure you can just show me,” you tease, pulling him back in by the back of his neck, smashing your lips together, your mouth moulding against his as your fingers play with the bottom of Peeta's shirt and pulling it over his head.

Peeta laughed as he snatched the middle of your button up shirt and ripping it open before he pulled the sides of your jeans, “Lets get these off!” Peeta almost snarled in annoyance at the lack of resistance from your jeans, laughing, you lift your hips allowing him to pull them off before you play with the buttons of his trousers and push them down his legs.

Peeta moves from kissing your lips to trail them down the side of your face, along your jaw and to your neck where he nipped, sucked and kissed at the tender flesh leaving marks up and down the side of your neck. Licking your hand, you remove the last piece of fabric between you and his cock, taking it firmly in your hand causing Peeta to hiss as you twist your hand up and down his impressive length, feeling him harden beneath your touch made him moan.

“Fuck, Y/N.” he moans as you continue to play with him, rubbing your thumb over the top of his head causing him to shiver. His moans were music to your ears, his small shallow moans and heavily breathing. “Don't tease me.” he hisses, wrapping his arm round your middle and pulling your thong roughly down your legs.

As the cold air reaches your wet pussy made you shiver, Peeta swiped his fingers up your slit gathering your wetness, bringing his fingers to his lips and tasting you, moaning in pleasure, “So sweet baby.” he whispered before rubbing your wetness round his lips before kissing you roughly, tasting yourself on his lips was always something you'd found hot.

Peeta inserted two fingers into you causing a moan to echo through your body as he curled the digits inside you, grazing your G-sport as his thumb rubbed your clit, the pleasure made you lean back on the kitchen counter. “Please,” you begged grabbing his arms as your stomach tightens, “Fuck!” you moaned as you cummed, tightening round his fingers as you come undone.

Your partner gives you a minute before he rubbed the head of his cock against your pulsing clit, “You ready for me?” he teases, letting out a single laugh, you wrap your legs around his hips and dug your heels into his lower back, pushing until he was completely inside you, causing a moan to exit from both of you.

“Fffffffuck, you feel so good.” Peeta groaned, he gave you a minute to adjust to his size before pulling out and ramming back into you, not giving you a second after that to recover, the pair of your let out cries of pleasure as he continues to thrust into you, hitting your sweet spot again and again.

You gasp loudly as Peeta's thumb finds your clit, rubbing harsh circles over the bundle of nerves, causing you to start begging again, “Peeta!” you moaned as your breath hitched whilst clamping your eyes shut as orgasm struck, tightening around Peeta, his sharp intake of air shows he wasn't far behind you as he rested his forehead on your shoulder before cumming, spilling his seed into you as you both ride out your orgasms.

Heavily breathing is the only thing that can be heard throughout the house for a few minutes, the cold air grasped your skin as goosebumps erupted over the pair of you, he kisses you gently before resting his forehead against yours, Peeta smiled warmly at you as he pulled rubbed his thumb across your cheek tenderly.

“Marry me?” he suddenly blurted.

You leaned back, knocking your head against the kitchen cabinet, “What?”

Opening the coffee pot before you, he pulled out a ring box and opened it, revealing a beautiful silver ring, jewels decorated the sides leading up to a small blue diamond, nothing big or flashy – it was perfect.

“Will you, Y/N Y/L/N, do me the honour of becoming the most perfect, headstrong, badass wife a man can ask for?” he asked, forehead still resting on yours.

A few minutes past before you found the words you needed. “As long as you, Peeta Mellark, will promise to be the hottest, smartest and most caring husband?” you ask, a small smile settled on your plump lips.

Peeta laughed at your response, “I already am those things... just not husband... yet.” he winked.

“Then yes,” you reply, watching as Peeta's eyes glowed and his smile grew wider, “I'll marry you.”

He clasped your face and kissed you passionately.

Peeta Mellark was your anchor, your partner and now, soon to be, your husband. And the only thing you could think of in that moment, a piece of peace you've always been waiting for, there is life after the Hunger Games.

Peeta Mellark was your salvation.

#Peeta Mellark #peeta mellark x reader #the hunger games reader insert #peeta mellark reader insert #peeta mellark one shot #reader insert #fanfiction #smut #peeta mellark smut

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drowningbydegrees · 4 years ago

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Witcher Masterpost

You can find my AO3 here if that’s your thing, but here are links to all my Witcher creations.

Fic - One Shots

MUSIC PROMPT LIST FICS Prompt List

A Love Like This | G | 1,009 Words | No Warnings Apply Jaskier does nothing quietly. He is bright colors and endless conversation. He is music and theatrics. He unapologetically takes up space, bold and loud and impossible to ignore. Jaskier does nothing quietly.

Except for this.

Written for the Music Prompt 4. Dolce AO3 | Tumblr

Nothing But the Background Noise | T | 3,385 Words | No Warnings Apply Geralt has always been at home with silence. It’s a quality that lends itself well to the life of a witcher, this ability to find peace instead of loneliness in the quiet of his own company. But they spend that night in their room’s single bed and Geralt lies awake wondering when the warm press of Jaskier’s face tucked against his neck became such a welcome thing, when his fingers tangling in the bard’s hair got to be so instinctive. When did Jaskier’s get to be so wrapped up in his life as to leave Geralt dreading the absence?

In which Geralt realizes that sometimes you don't discover how much of a fixture something is in your life until you're forced to contemplate not having it.

Written for the Music Prompt 8. Incidental Music AO3 | Tumblr

Call Me a Casualty | T | 1,670 Words | No Warnings Apply He has a plan.

Okay, admittedly calling it a plan is somewhat of an exaggeration. What Geralt has is an overwhelming sense of grief that floods the empty spaces left behind as his temper ebbs, and the horrifying realization that while it all hurts, it’s Jaskier’s departure that leaves his heart aching. What he has is an urgent need to set things right, and only a nebulous idea of how to do so. For starters though, he needs to catch up to Jaskier. That’s a straightforward task to set his mind to, and Geralt assumes he’ll figure out the rest on the road.Written for the Music Prompt 16. Mosso AO3 | Tumblr

This Too Is Ours | E | 1,919 Words | No Warnings Apply

They fit like they were made for basking, tangled up with each other in the comfort of a warm bed while the snow falls outside He could go back to sleep, Jaskier thinks. It’s winter. He might be teaching, but it’s still a break of sorts. If he can’t sleep in now, then when can he?

Idly, he drags his palm down Geralt’s flank. There’s comfort in the familiar topography of the witcher’s body, and isn’t that a heady thought? Geralt is - has allowed himself to be - familiar territory. It seems a silly thing to be so giddy over, but Jaskier smiles as he nuzzles against the nape of Geralt’s neck.

AO3 | Tumblr

OTHER ONE SHOTS

Something To Hold Onto | T | 11,146 Words | No Warnings Apply

“Is it some kind of prank, do you think?” Jaskier asks, squinting at the noticeboard.

It’s littered with contracts, each more peculiar than the last. Missing people, haunted houses, someone convinced his sister is possessed because she’s acting strangely. The last is vague, giving no indication of what “strangely” even means. It would be weird for a sizable city like Novigrad, but it’s completely nonsensical in a village as small as Hillcrest, which is barely large enough to support an inn. The notices are all quite new, so normally Geralt would be tempted to write it off as someone being a menace. But the writing is different, the paper is different, all of it is different enough that it’s probably not one person.

As it turns out, there is no prank, leaving Geralt to try to fix things before whatever is wrong with Hillcrest consumes them all.

AO3 | Tumblr

We Break Like Waves | T | 3,469 Words | No Warnings Apply

For three days, they are happy. It matters less that Geralt struggles to put to words what Jaskier means to him when it’s all right there, neatly conveyed in the simple band wrapped around the bard’s finger. Jaskier holds his hand out to admire it for what must be the hundredth time, smiling as the candlelight catches facets of the solitary ruby set in gold.

What begins as a long overdue honeymoon ends, as things so often do in Geralt's life, in disaster.

AO3 | Tumblr

Noonwraiths and Other Woodland Forest Creatures | T | 3,716 Words | No Warnings Apply

Jaskier is used to his favorite customer, who is possibly some sort of cryptid, showing up at odd hours. What he's not used to is said customer showing up injured.

A modern AU featuring 24 hour diner server Jaskier and Geralt who is... still a witcher.

AO3 | Tumblr

If You Say It Again | T | 4,243 Words | No Warnings Apply

Geralt is what Jaskier cheerfully describes as "forever years old" when he discovers that okay, maybe he is just the littlest bit affected by… actually he’s not sure what one would call this. He’s not even sure if it’s specifically what was said or just the act of being spoken to like a person in a vulnerable moment. Either way, it’s more than a little unexpected, but that’s not actually the problem. After all, everyone finds themselves unraveled by something a little unorthodox now and again, and in the grand scheme of things, this isn’t really all that weird.

AO3 | Tumblr

Left All the Lights Burning (But Nobody's Home) | M | 3,739 Words | No Warnings Apply Geralt is quiet, but he’s always quiet, so that really doesn’t mean much. When he can’t hear the witcher, Jaskier squints at the dark room, wishing his friend didn’t absolutely insist on wearing black all the time. “I don’t suppose you can do that magicky thing you do and break us out of here?”

No answer comes.

Written for Whumptober prompt 26. concussion AO3 | Tumblr

For the Space of a Heartbeat | T | 2,021 Words | No Warnings Apply As it turns out, falling into bed with your very best friend who you are privately very much in love with isn't nearly so nerve wracking as waking up with them the morning after. AO3 | Tumblr

Rosetta Stone | G | 1,408 Words | No Warnings Apply It’s not a seduction that the bard settles on, at least not in any traditional sense. There’s no lack of attraction (really, Jaskier is continuously baffled by how anyone could look at Geralt and not want him), but it’s background noise. He thinks of this more like finagling the two of them into some sort of harmony.

In which Jaskier realizes that while his affection for Geralt is almost certainly returned, they say it in entirely different ways, and takes it upon himself to translate.

AO3 | Tumblr

Untitled | G | 517 Words | No Warnings Apply Reply to the prompt: What about when Geralt first realizes he's in love with Jaskier? Tumblr

Something is Bound to Give | T | 2,754 Words | No Warnings Apply For the space of a single breath Geralt concedes. He almost melts into Jaskier’s painstakingly careful touch, the soothing way the bard invites him to take refuge in someone else for a little while, but then Geralt’s mind catches up with the rest of him. AO3

Where You and I Collide | T | 1,388 Words | No Warnings Apply The words don’t pass his lips. At first Jaskier thinks this is too new, too fragile a thing that’s come into being between them. Then, he fears that perhaps they don’t mean the same thing by any of this, that perhaps he’s offered up his heart to someone who has no use for it. Based on a prompt asking for something about Jaskier and Geralt struggling with feelings. AO3 | Tumblr

Fill in the Blanks | G | 1,438 Words | No Warnings Apply “I want nothing.”

The thing is, it’s not a lie. Not really. It’s just that it’s an incomplete sentence.. AO3 | Tumblr

I’ll Wish Upon Embers | E | 9,128 Words | No Warnings Apply

“But allow me to raise this one point for your consideration.” There it is, accompanied by Jaskier’s expression scrunching in a way that Geralt is exasperated to realize he finds rather endearing. “Have you ever tried?” --- Geralt lets Jaskier talk him into sticking around for a village's midsummer festival. He assumes they're staying for Jaskier's benefit, but somewhere between the flower crowns and the bonfire, Geralt realizes it was a gift meant for him all along.

AO3 | Tumblr

Fic - Multi-part

Though I Try Not To | E | 16,120 Words | No Warnings Apply “You didn’t come back,” Geralt murmurs as if that somehow covers everything.

AO3

Even in the Dark I Know You | M | 8,196 Words | No Warnings Apply The thing is, he’s seen Geralt in a bad way. Even the witcher can’t always avoid injury in his line of work, and so Jaskier has plenty of practice patching him up. But this is new, and it makes something awful and anxious twist in Jaskier’s stomach.

A contract goes wrong leaving Geralt captive and stripped of most of his senses by the time Jaskier gets to him. Part one is based on the Geralt Whump Week day four prompt of betrayal and part two is based on the day five prompt of loneliness

AO3 | Tumblr 1 | 2 | 3

Even if it Hurts (Even if it Makes Me Bleed) | E | 25,074 Words | No Warnings Apply

Is that a pickup line? Maybe. It’s the worst one Geralt has ever heard in his very long life, but that isn’t the problem. The problem races, red hot down the length of his forearm, pooling uncomfortably around his soulmark. The scrawled out writing on the underside of his wrist had told Geralt the first thing his soulmate was going to say to him as soon as he could read. Silly as it had sounded, it’s even more ridiculous out loud.

To say Geralt is not a fan of destiny is a monumental understatement. Given the fact that the soul mark scrawled out on his wrist is the worst pickup line he's ever heard, he doesn't anticipate his soulmate being any more welcome than anything else that life has saddled him with. But the longer he spends with Jaskier, the harder his soulmate is to resist, and somewhere along the way Geralt knows he'll have to reckon with whether his feelings are manufactured by kismet or truly his own.

AO3 | Tumblr

Once Written in the Stars | E | 15,512 Words (WIP) | No Warnings Apply When Geralt accidentally trespasses on a fae forest, only the unexpected kindness of one of the forest's inhabitants saves him. Unfortunately, it also leaves him saddled with a travel companion who has never really met a human, let alone thought about how to play at being one. It goes about as well as you'd think. AO3 | Tumblr 1 | 2 | 3

Art Stuff

Geraskier Gif Set Set to Stray Italian Greyhound by Vienna Teng

Geraskier Image Set Set to Civil War by @sincerelyjoanna-blog-blog

Geraskier Watercolor Edit

#Geraskier #Geralt X Jaskier #Gerlion #The Witcher #jaskier x geralt #my fic #my art #masterpost

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tamakiamajikistentacles · 4 years ago

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Disappearance 2: The Sighting {Katsuki Bakugo}

A/N: Please be sure to reblog, comment, review, and like if you enjoy! Feedback is what keeps me motivated! Thank you all so much for your support with this story so far, I hope you continue to enjoy it!

Disappearance Masterlist

He dreamt of Chiasa often.

On bad nights his mind created terrible scenarios about who she was with and where she was and what was happening to her. Other better nights let him fantasize about finding her and bringing her back to his agency with a smug grin as he reunited with the love of his life.

Most nights, though, his dreams were memories. Soft around the edges and sometimes fuzzy in detail, but as real as he could remember.

That night he had a dream about finding their first apartment for just themselves. It was going to be a far cry from sharing a townhome with Kaminari and Jiro, mostly because it wasn’t going to be as cluttered and full of ridiculous pranks but also because it would finally be theirs.

He could vividly remember coming home from one of the early meetings with the Hero Public Safety Commission about starting his own agency and seeing her in the sitting room practically vibrating with excitement. She’d pulled him down beside her and all but shoved her tablet into his face to look at what she’d found, declaring that their search was over.

And it had been. The building had twenty-four security and desk staff, keycard resident entry, and was in a safer neighborhood with a low crime rate. He could see it was a short walk to the nearest train station and if he got the approval for his agency and secured the building he wanted, it wouldn’t be a long commute at all. Two bedrooms was well within their budget and would allow her to have a dedicated office space for her work from home position instead of her current setup at the foot of their bed.

He didn’t realize he’d been grinning until she poked his cheek and asked an impatient, “Well?”

“Let’s apply.”

She let out a happy squeal as she threw her arms around his shoulders, kissing his face repeatedly as he tried to keep a hold on her tablet. Her grip only seemed to grow tighter the more he weakly fought her embrace.

“Katsuki, this is going to be amazing!” she laughed, kissing his temple one final time as she pulled back slightly to cuddle against him. This time he didn’t fight the embrace, instead wrapping an arm around her to keep her close.

He’d scoffed. “’Course it’ll be amazing. It’s you and me.”

“You and me,” she agreed with a smile.

He could hear her saying those words as clear as day in his memories. It had started as a joke about the first time they’d gone out alone without friends; he’d asked her if she wanted to go to a new mochi shop and she immediately went to text the rest of their friends before he stopped her, grunting, “You and me.”

After some time it just became theirs. Three words with just as much weight as I love you. It was a simple way to say more important things—“I’m here for you” and “We’re in this together” and “The two of us cannot be broken.”

It was a part of how their bond became as strong as it did, and he missed hearing it in person.

Cool, early September air was left behind as the door to his agency closed behind him. He wasn’t thrilled with the weather beginning to take a turn towards lower temperatures, knowing his quirk took longer to build up its power. As much as he hated being called a “slow starter” in the winter it wasn’t entirely untrue.

Hikari greeted him with a curt good morning as he passed her desk and slid a few papers his way without looking up. He grabbed them and in their place set down a travel mug of peppermint tea and a small blue bento, his own low mornin’ barely audible.

Making his way to his office he looked over the patrol routes for the day and the notations about the current goings-on of the areas. It was fairly run-of-the-mill with little suspected villain activity, a perfect time to allow some of the newer sidekicks and interns to tag along with his people for the day.

Surprisingly this was one of the things he enjoyed about running his own agency. Planning and strategizing were some of his strong suits despite how much he did enjoy blasting headfirst into battle when he could. But as the man in charge he liked being control of where his people were posted a lot too.

He had already decided who would be taking which patrol by the time everyone was gathered in the large conference room in their hero costumes, some more bleary-eyed than others. Mugs of coffee and tea billowed steam above the table and Kirishima’s branded shaker bottle stood taller than all of them.

Kaminari yawned lazily and Sero elbowed him in the ribs at the stern glare of their boss.

“Three sectors, little activity save for the corner tea shop on route 2B,” he started as everyone turned their eyes towards him. “Cellophane and Pinky, you two are taking the sidekicks to sector 1. Route A to Cellophane, B to Pinky. Choose your sidekicks and report it before you leave.”

The two heroes fist bumped and shot grins and thumbs up towards the sidekicks across the table from them. They were the best to get collaboration on the brain when it came to the newer recruits.

“Sector 2 goes to Red Riot and Chargebolt. Red, you’re on route A with the two interns and Chargebolt you’re taking route B so make sure that shitty shop isn’t getting worse.”

He knew that Kirishima was the perfect option for guiding the wide-eyed interns through some of their first tastes of the hero life. Plus, he was the best defense if trouble arose and backup would take time.

“I’m taking sector 3 myself. Questions?” When no one responded, he concluded, “Alright, get out there.”

Kaminari shot a smile to everyone he came across on his patrol. Chargebolt was a well-liked figure and regarded very highly as a personable hero when spotted in public. He was proud to have cultivated that good will with the people and was oftentimes the one who handled the media for the Dynamight agency alongside Kirishima, Red Riot’s popularity one of the only heroes higher than himself.

Quieter times to stop and chat with his fans were always his favorite but days like this that required more vigilance he did what he could with smiles and waves to those he saw. Even if there was only suspected villain activity at the tiny tea shop across from the mall he had to keep a close eye on it.

He tried to spend as much time as he could with the shop in view while still patrolling the rest of the route. Nothing of note caught his attention all morning and well into the afternoon.

Then the afterschool crowd and post workday crowds filled the area. He began to see a few suspicious characters that he reported back to the agency when he had a chance, but none of them gave any other indication of wrongdoing. He preferred to be thorough, though, just like Bakugo liked.

Half a dozen notes later, as the sun was low in the sky, he started to plan his evening once he got home. Jiro had the day off which meant she would spend most of it in the studio and bring home their favorite takeout. She was always in a great mood after a day in the studio too, and he loved seeing her so happy.

The tinkling bell of the tea shop’s door opening brought him from his thoughts and his gaze fell on a scraggly-haired brunette stepping into the evening air. From where he was down the street, he could see her pull the hand of a small boy to come stand by her on the sidewalk. Dark, matted hair sat atop his head and he scratched at the arm the woman held.

The closer he got the more he noticed about them—the woman’s ill-fitting dress and oversized sweater in much warmer contrast to the boy’s too short jeans and short sleeved tshirt. The boy shook from the cold and he quickened his pace, everything in him ready to shrug off his jacket and wrap the child in it while giving a few choice words to the mother.

As he approached he saw the woman’s eyes darting furiously as she hurriedly crossed towards one of the mall’s department store entrances, the boy shuffling along beside her as he went from scratching his arm to scratching his neck. Her grip on his arm looked tighter than it should be, and she walked quickly with no regard for if he could keep up with her longer strides.

Kaminari took in as many details as possibly as he began crossing too before stopping dead in his tracks in the crosswalk when the woman turned and said something to the boy. Her profile fit all of his observations in place and he tried to make himself move forward to confirm what he thought he was seeing.

By the time his body started to cooperate the duo had disappeared into the crowded department store and he was left at the door with only startled suspicions and half-formed what if scenarios in his mind. He had to tell someone, someone other than Bakugo who would surely fly off the handle on him for losing sight of the woman.

As he went to radio Kirishima, his comm came on with an incoming message from the redhead instead—“Charge, rendezvous in twenty at our starting point to head back to the agency?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed breathlessly. “Yeah, I’ll see you there.”

Kirishima nudged him in the side, concerned for his usually loud blonde friend who had barely said a word on their journey back to the agency. “Are you okay, man? You’re never this quiet.”

Kaminari chewed the inside of his cheek as he pulled on his street clothes. With a sigh he ruffled his hair with his hand before rubbing his face.

“I saw something weird on my route at the tea shop.”

“Oh damn, what happened? Did you let Bakugo know yet? You know he needs those villain updates as soon as possible.”

He waved his hands to stop the questions. “No, I didn’t tell him yet but it wasn’t… I don’t know if it was villains.”

The redhead’s eyebrows knitted together. “Then what was so weird?”

“Right before you radioed me near the end of patrol I was finishing notes on some shady people around the shop when this lady and kid stepped out. They both looked, I don’t know, greasy? And she was dressed warm while the little boy she was with was shivering in just a tshirt.”

“That’s not exactly our kind of suspicious, dude, but we can—"

“But the fact that she looked like Chiasa is suspicious!”

Kirishima froze, whispering, “What?”

He nodded. “She looked like Chiasa with longer hair.”

“With… with a kid?”

“Yeah, little dark-haired kid that kept scratching at his arms and neck. I felt so bad for the little guy, he looked so cold—”

“Kaminari, focus!” Kirishima said harshly, cutting off his rambling. “We need to tell Bakugo. Even if it’s not her, he needs this lead. He has to see it through. On the off chance it is actually her… I don’t even know how he could react.”

“Plus she has a lot of explaining to do about where she’s been,” Kaminari sighed. “It’s been so long.”

Kirishima nodded sadly. “It has, but we need to let Bakugo lead on this. Whether or not it was really her and will get him closer to finding her, I don’t know. But he needs to do this. It’s the only way for him to move forward.”

Closing their lockers, they gathered their bags and made their way to their small shared office. The day being fairly quiet aside from the two brunettes being sighted allowed them to finish their patrol reports quickly and send them to Bakugo for his review.

They knew he waited until all reports were received to begin looking them over and they had never been more grateful for Mina’s inability to focus, knowing for a fact that she was always the last person to submit her reports. Passing her still in costume talking animatedly to the sidekicks about their day let them know that this time wasn’t going to be any different. It allowed them to speak with Bakugo before he had to read the information and hopefully let them do damage control too.

Hikari was just leaving his office as they came to the doorway, a tired smile on her lips as she shuffled the papers in her hands.

Kaminari knocked on the doorframe as she passed them to head back to her desk and without looking up was called in by their friend and boss.

“What?” he grunted, continuing to loosen his gauntlets to set them aside. Unlike the rest of them he preferred to write his reports before changing completely.

Kaminari cleared his throat awkwardly, feeling Kirishima’s hand on his shoulder for support. As long as he’d known Bakugo and been on the receiving end of his temper and explosions, this had to be one of the most nerve-wracking conversations he was going to start.

“I’ve got some news from my patrol today.”

Red eyes snapped up to meet his. “Villains at the tea shop? What happened? Was it in your report? You never called for backup and I know we didn’t have anyone detained in any of our sectors.”

He spoke quickly, his shoulders tensing with each word as he prepared himself to don his gauntlets once again to find whoever was stirring up trouble in his agency’s territory.

“No, no, it was just an observation but I wanted to tell you about it in person—”

“Then spit it out!”

“I think… I think it’s possible that I saw Chiasa come out of the tea shop with a little dark-haired boy. I’m not one-hundred percent sure if it was her but it sure as hell looked like her.”

Bakugo stood rigid behind his desk. Over four years of not a single clue as to where she was or if she was safe and now she reappeared right in his agency’s backyard. If it was her.

He would pull all the surveillance he could find in the area based on Kaminari’s report and go through it with a fine-toothed comb. He would know if it were her. There was no one he knew better.

If he decided it was her then their patrol routes were about to get a shakeup and he was about to get answers years in the making. But that was for him to know, at least for now.

“I’ll review your report. Send Hikari back on your way out and I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said evenly.

The two other heroes exchanged surprised looks, expecting a much bigger reaction than a few long moments of silence. They watched him sit down and start his computer, his body language tense but not to the level they had anticipated.

“You don’t want to—”

“I’ll see you both tomorrow,” he repeated, eyes flicking up to see their stunned faces. He watched them blankly until they seemed to take the hint ad turned to leave.

He sat alone typing his report after making his request to Hikari to go through the proper channels for the surveillance footage he wanted and warning her that he would likely need more after reviewing Kaminari’s report. She didn’t seem to mind, letting him know that she would tell him as soon as the requested film came in.

So until then he sat in his office allowing himself to grasp onto this small straw of hope, holding tight to the first real evidence he’d had in years that he might be able to use to bring her home.

A/N: Please be sure to reblog, comment, review, and like if you enjoy! Feedback is what keeps me motivated!

Disappearance Masterlist

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onestowatch · 3 years ago

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Oston Pens Her Coming-of-Age Story on ‘Am I Talking Too Much? [Q&A]

Photos: Dolly Ave at Lollapalooza

Rising star OSTON is no longer sitting at the kids' table. In her new EP, Am I Talking Too Much?, the singer-songwriter puts her fears, frustrations, and deepest thoughts on display. It’s a victorious display of emotion sonically paired with massive pop moments, an ethereal interlude, impressively sharp lyricism, and so much more.

Am I Talking Too Much?, which has been in the works since 2019, has forged a path through a time of tough life lessons, self-realization, and most importantly confidence. The project navigates topics such as the pressures of growing up and the universal fear of falling in love in just eight poignant tracks. Overall, the EP tells OSTON’s coming-of-age story, learning when to not take things seriously and gaining the ability to spot those who underestimate her tenacity.

We had the chance to chat with OSTON about the making of the EP, what it means to her, and an exclusive track-by-track breakdown.

Tell us about what’s different this time around, versus making your debut EP, Sitting at the Kids Table?

Am I Talking Too Much? feels astronomically different from my debut EP in so many ways. When we were making my first project, Sitting at the Kids Table, I was really focused on creating a project and getting it out into the world rather quickly. The songs were written and produced with a very fast turnaround, and because I was so new to the industry, I was more than okay with that.

After that project came out, I started really digging into my artistry. Since Am I Talking Too Much? was written over the course of two-and-a-half-ish years, I got to choose exactly which songs I felt described this second chapter of my musical life. I went through some huge life changes while writing this EP, and I think that’s very apparent in the story arch of this project.

Taking “last time pt. II” into consideration, do you feel Am I Talking Too Much? is a continuation of the topics explored in Sitting at the Kids Table or does it exist in your head as a separate entity entirely?

This EP feels like an entirely new chapter of my life, just as I hope the next generation of music I put out can serve as something completely new. This project follows me on a journey of moving away from home, shedding toxic relationships and old layers that used to hold me back, and learning not to define myself by how others view me (or at least trying not to). Other than the name “last time pt. ii,” the two songs live as their own entities, and I’m really excited for listeners to discover that.

You have some special collaborators who worked on the EP, can you tell us about your creative journey with everyone who helped this project come to life?

I was lucky enough to get to work with some of my closest friends and collaborators on this project, which is part of the reason it’s so special to me. My boyfriend, Drew, executive produced the whole project (with me staring over his shoulder the whole time). Our great friend, Nydge, came in on two of the songs (“Am I Talking Too Much?” and “Sour”) to help spice up the direction a bit. I also co-wrote a few of the songs with my friends JORDY, lixa, and Mr. Popular—who all helped bring the crazy stories inside my head to life.

What are some of your goals for 2021, if any? Or are you just taking things day by day?

2021 has been an absolutely crazy year for me so far, and I’m lucky enough to say that I’ve already reached a lot of the goals I set for myself at the beginning of the year. For starters, finishing up and releasing this EP has been an enormous box on my to-do list, so finally having it out in the world is a huge accomplishment in itself.

Last weekend, I experienced a crazy, unexpected run of shows – I opened for Omar Apollo at the Metro in Chicago for a Lollapalooza aftershow, and then stepped into the official lineup of Lollapalooza on Friday at the Lake Shore Stage. I hadn’t even imagined playing my first music festival for another year or two! Another bucket list goal of mine has been to go on a support tour with another artist, and I’ll be joining my great friend JORDY on his “Mind Games” tour in the fall!

What do you want listeners to take away from listening to Am I Talking Too Much?

If you listen to this EP and take anything with you, I hope it’s the understanding that there is always room to make mistakes, and nobody ever gets everything right the first time around. We all live through our own tragedies, and that’s what makes us the badass people that we are.

Would you mind breaking down each track on the project for us?

“Am I Talking Too Much?”

This was actually the first song we wrote for this project. At the time, I was thinking it would just be a single, but I could never get over the idea of a whole body of work called “Am I Talking Too Much?.” It just felt so fitting with who I am as a person.

The concept came from a date where I was talking with this guy, and he turned to me and said, “Wow, you sure talk a lot don’t you?” I walked away reflecting on how talking “too much” and overthinking are such big characteristics of mine. But, it’s also a part of what makes me who I am, and I realized that maybe the people who love and accept me for that are the people I really want in my life anyways.

“Hypocrite!”

“Hypocrite!” was such a fun and quick one to write that came from one day in the studio with the amazing writer/producer Mr. Popular. We started talking and joking about the stereotypical “shitty ex” that gaslights you and tries to make you think that everything they do is somehow your fault. It was particularly fun and therapeutic for me because I got to pull from multiple different relationships throughout my life to create this one sort of evil, hypocritical character as the star of the song.

“I Think You Should Leave”

Man, I love this song. It’s such a fun one! I’ve never really let myself get as pop as I did with this one. Drew and I really just aimed to have a fun time writing this one and wanted it to be as out-there as it could. I’d call this the “party anthem” of the project, telling off all the haters and mansplainers. This is the song that gets the most hate on social media, and it’s quite funny to me that the main group of people getting angry online are exactly the demographic we wrote it about.

“Lie About You”

“Lie About You” was the last song written for this project. In all reality, the song was never supposed to see the light of day. After I got the demo back, I actually really hated the song and it felt way too personal and on-the-nose with what I was going through to ever release.

I don’t know what willed me to throw the demo up on TikTok (maybe it was the fact I was visiting home, drinking wine, and feeling sappy as per usual) but the next morning I woke up to a viral video and thousands of people asking me to release the song for real. That same day I was supposed to announce “I Think You Should Leave,” but my management called me and was like “Dude, we’ve gotta finish this one and put it out like, tomorrow.” and that’s exactly what we did!

“Hurt Like___”

“Hurt Like___” came at a time when I wanted to write something really sad and emotional, even though that wasn’t how I was actually feeling in the moment. I decided to write this alternate ending for my relationship with Drew—one where I had let my fear of things going wrong take over. I wrote the story of our breakup and how I thought I would’ve felt if we ended things when I moved to LA, instead of continuing to date long-distance and then eventually move in together. I’ve actually never written a song from this point of view before, so it was pretty challenging, but so worth it.

“How To Feel Human”

JORDY, Drew and I wrote this on a little trip to Drew’s old Chicago studio in the middle of the pandemic. We all had a little pink wine (this was also the same week that we wrote “Tomorrow” for JORDY’s project, so clearly we were feeling pretty sappy) and we started reminiscing about how easy things used to be when we were younger and living at home with our parents – even though it didn’t always seem like it back then.

We realized that as you get older and move away from your upbringing, the idea of “home” starts to become less and less clear. You start to find “home” in the places you move to and the people you surround yourself with, and the childhood memories of “home” sort of start to fade into the distance. It’s a pretty somber topic, but when you surround yourself with the right people, it makes growing up a whole lot easier.

“last time pt. II”

All I’ll say about this one is that Drew and I wrote it before our very first date. It was kind of our way of saying goodbye to the people in our lives that were holding us back, and realizing what we had sitting right in front of us. This song makes me wanna cry every time I hear it.

“Sour”

Sour is my unapologetically-honest diary entry to myself. Funny enough, this record actually started out in a completely hyper-pop direction with massive synths and drums, but I couldn’t get any of the lyrics or melodies to make sense. When we went back in and stripped it down to just piano vocals, this whole story started flowing out of me. I started asking myself why I treat myself the way that I do, and similarly, why society encourages us to be so critical of ourselves and one another.

I wanted to pay tribute in this song to one of my biggest musical inspirations, which is the Melodrama album by Lorde and Jack Antonoff. The outro bit of the song deviates away from the piano/vocal vibe and shifts into a very musical, ethereal space. This is where the project starts to culminate and become blurry—I wanted this bit to feel like a conclusion to the chaos of the seven songs that came before it.

Ending the song with the words “but I gotta go” felt like the best parting gift as I left to start another chapter of my musical life.

#oston #interview #am I talking too much?#singer songwriter #pop

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stephinsshortstories · 4 years ago

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Story 2.1: Student Lounge Smoothies

(Part 1, I hope?) A confession from one athlete to another, and all the anxiety that comes with it. Sometimes you just gotta swallow that lump in your throat and shoot your shot!

Like 1.1, this story is one of my most “realistic” premises. That means a believable setup, and no magic or plot tomfoolery! Themes include wlw crushes, the dynamics of asking someone out, and other beautifully human experiences.

This is another fairly early work of mine, and it’s written from a perspective I have only partially experienced myself, so it’s a bit of an experiment! Please share constructive critique if you’ve got it.

While the following story doesn’t contain overtly sexual content, I still ask those under the age of 18 to pass on it. Also, be warned, it can take up a lot of space on your dash!

The locker room flooded with bodies quickly. It was Friday, everyone was desperate to get changed and get out, and Coach Theresa always made Friday workouts the worst. “To make sure nobody gets lazy,” she’d say. The atmosphere hung heavy with sweat and a generally ubiquitous urge to not be there longer than necessary.

Like most of the university lacrosse team, Kate was in a hurry to split.

“Dammit…” she whispered to herself, seeing the line forming for the showers. She hadn’t muscled her way in enough in the initial rush; most of the team beat her to the stalls. Still, she decided with a groan, they were faster than going back to her dorm.

Not being able to do much before a proper shower, Kate waffled for time. She hang restlessly at her locker, watching small pockets of conversation ripple through her teammates. A couple of her friends passed her on the way out, and she resolved with them to hang out in the student union tomorrow night, and threw in a few jovial complaints about their Molecular Bio lab project. Kate watched a majority of the girls trickle out over ten, maybe fifteen minutes, and silently castigated herself for not pushing more every time someone left. How very freshman of her.

Nineteen, and still can’t grow a goddam spine, she thought.

By the time Kate finally got in and out of a shower, only a few of her teammates remained. Trish, Gina, and Dana were discussing something by their lockers, Yasmin was tying her shoes to leave, and someone whose name she tentatively thought was… Verdana? Verona? Whoever. She was stuffing dirty clothes into a drawstring bag.

Nobody’s really focused on me… I think I’m okay to get changed, Kate reported to herself. Equal parts social anxiety, shyness over changing publicly, and shyness over her outfit made her tense and hyper-vigilant. Today even more than usual. When she’d first arrived on campus in the fall, some new friends had quietly and coyly recommended her a certain club downtown. Now was finally the Friday night Kate had mustered the courage to go out, and really experience nightlife… her parents had been pretty strict, and while she’d had her fair share of boyfriends (and a few very secret stints with some girls, as experiments), the hot, neon, underground appeal of a real nightclub represented a whole new level of tantalizing freedom. Dances, drinks, the like…

Kate shook herself from the daydream and began to quickly put herself together. Along with clothes and shower gear, she had a makeup kit and a brush with her - she planned on meeting her friends downtown right after practice. However, after just a few minutes, less than half dressed…

“Hey. Katelyn, right?” a voice over her shoulder asked. Kate jumped. Wheeling around quickly, she was met face-to-face by the toned, imposing figure of Quinn Baker, the team captain, standing over her. She seemed to have appeared out of nowhere.

“Yeah! Uh - yeah. Kate. What’s up?” Kate stammered, finally regaining composure halfway through.

“Quinn. Captain Quinn. Yeah, yeah, good to meet ya - can we talk for a minute?” Quinn was still wet, and was wearing a t-shirt and a towel on her waist - she must’ve been in the shower when Kate had scanned the room.

“Yeah, uh - sure, what do you need?” Kate was startled sick, which turned to heavy nervousness; the only reason she could think of for a captain to be pulling aside a random freshman on a team dozens strong would be for a chew-out. Kate’s mind was racing, but she was utterly sure that that would be the last thing she could handle right now.

“I just wanted to ask you a few things,” Quinn, noticing Kate sweating bullets, tried to ease back. “Nobody’s in trouble… but for starters, thanks for picking lax, always good to see new recruits and all.”

“Uh, yeah, I played it through high school, wanted to stick with it here. Nice to meet you… what did you need to ask me?”

“Well, kinda a lie, I more want to talk to you than ask you stuff. First of all, I take it you have plans tonight? You seemed to be getting dressed up in a hurry. Most people don’t wait long for shower here.”

“Yeah, meeting some friends at a restaurant downtown. The walk back to the dorm would’ve taken longer…”

“Fair enough. But Kate, you don’t need to bullshit me. It’s not a restaurant, is it?

Kate began to sweat again. She didn’t mean to lie, but saying she was going clubbing to the team captain wasn’t a good plan. Quinn continued, as if reading her mind,

“Probably clubbing or something, right? That seems a bit better fitting for a sleeved tube top and jeans. Don’t worry. Everybody’s played the fake-ID game at some point. I’m not gonna cut you from the team or anything for it. But I also take it from how buggy you are right now (and the outfit) that this is gonna be your first time. Nervous and shit, right?”

“Right. Going to a place a few friends whispered to me about,” Kate blushed. Quinn seemed cool, anyway… she was standing really close.

“Yeah,” Quinn leaned against the bank of lockers and folded her arms. “And I also figure you’re interested in more than drinks… you may want to stuff those in a zip pocket.”

Kate blushed much harder, pushing the two condom packets deeper into the coin pocket on her jeans and averting her gaze. Arms folded under the chest, she couldn’t help but think, was a good look for Quinn…

“And-“ Quinn lowered her voice, speaking subtly- “you didn’t zip your bag all the way. Those pins on the jacket in there… you’re interested in an overnight, not necessarily with a guy… aren’t you?”

“Uh! I dunno-! I-“ Kate’s face flared red and she began to panic, eyes darting around. She clenched her bag to her chest nervously. She wasn’t comfortable pinning down a sexual preference yet, and had hoped the club excursions would help her find out. The pins on her jacket were a plan to attract anyone she could - now, mortifyingly, she was found out. By the captain of her lacrosse team, no less.

“Listen. Calm down, or you’ll out yourself before anyone else. Don’t freak out, I’ve been there too. Most people have. I’m not gonna repeat it. But I am gonna tell you this - the age restrictions on clubs are there for a reason, and it isn’t just the booze. As a senior, let me tell you to steer clear of those joints until you’re more acclimated to the area… and maybe have a bit more confidence, with friends you’ve known longer, too. Most people there are normal, but there are creeps, and they can smell green from across the floor. Don’t worry. There are other ways to find a good time.” Quinn patted Kate on the shoulder, and left for her locker.

Kate was numb. She was still terrified, a bit traumatized by suddenly meeting an upperclassman like that, but also… relieved. For every bit of curiosity and desire for freedom in her head, there had been three huge chunks of nervousness. Subconsciously, she’d already known what Quinn said, but it was nice to hear it from someone else. It gave Kate a justification to herself to cancel, and breathe a sigh of relief. Other ways to find a good time, Quinn repeated in her mind.

She called her friends, getting out with the excuse that Coach had held the team after practice for a meeting, and resumed getting dressed. Torn jeans, sleeved tube top… yeah, kind of clueless attire for clubbing, she supposed. Then, the jacket… Kate pulled it out of her bag and looked at it for a moment. Leather the color of dark chocolate, cut to the rib line, the right lapel sporting a handful of pins including the pansexual pride flag. She did honestly consider herself pansexual… but she did still need to experiment, too. Kate stared at the pins. She gulped down a bold idea, steeling herself. On the bright side, at least Quinn had already broken the ice…

Most of the girls had left the locker room by this point. Quinn herself had her bag slung over her shoulder and was headed out.

“See ya around,” she waved as she passed Kate.

Gulping, slinging the jacket on, and grabbing her bag, Kate started after Quinn. Her nerves were freezing over, but once she was in motion she couldn’t stop. She grabbed Quinn’s shoulder just as she exited out into the main athletics hallway.

“Hey, um…”

“Yeah? What’s up?” Quinn responded brightly, amazing Kate with her relaxedness.

“Well, I really appreciate what you said. I… I needed to hear it. And you’re really cool, keeping things low-key.”

“Yeah, uh, no problem, I mean-“

“Do you want to get a drink with me?” Kate’s impulses pulled the trigger, for better or worse, before her anxiety could get in the way. Her heart stopped.

“Weh- uh, uh… y-yeah. I guess so,” Quinn stammered, dumbstruck. Kate barely noticed her own amusement at the towering senior’s break in compsure, given the crushing tightness in her chest. Her heart began to pound - Quinn had actually said yes! She honestly hadn’t thought this far ahead.

“We - uh, we could get smoothies or something from the student lounge… guess I technically shouldn’t get actual drinks with my captain right now,”

Quinn giggled a bit. “Yeah, totally. It’s… uh…” she paused.

Kate’s chest could barely expand for her to breathe.

“…It’s on the way to my apartment.”

#wlw #fiction #romantic fiction #romantic #short story #lgbtq #writing #gay #lesbian #pansexuality

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