#Anyway 'i would do opium off him' lmao i NEED to do opium off him | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

flying-nightwing · 4 years ago

Text

Damn Him

Hi, this is average af but I needed to post something. You’ll probably be disappointed lmao. Anyway, enjoy some Dick Grayson content!

More on my masterlist, pinned as a top post!

Pairing: Dick Grayson x Reader

Word count: 4798

Warnings: None

Summary: Dick Grayson never seems to say the right thing around you, and it’s not quite for the reason you initially thought

You looked up from your book when your cellphone vibrated on your desk beside you. You were in the midst of studying for your last exam of the semester, so you had your phone on a strict do not disturb schedule, which meant it remained on 24/7. Your notifications were blocked for any social media, text or calls you might receive, well, except for your one emergency contact: Bruce Wayne. He knew he was supposed to contact you only if he had no other choice but ask for your help, and never had he even used that card ever since you knew him. Reluctantly, you put down you book and marker to switch them for your phone. Turning on the screen, you ignored the various hidden notifications, focusing only on the single line that stared back at you.

Call me when you can - B.

Sighing, you unlocked your phone and pressed the contact name, then the phone icon next to it. It rang twice before Bruce picked up.

"(Y/N), how are you?"

"A bit stressed out, but it could be worse" You replied truthfully. "What's up?"

"I hope you know I wouldn't do this if I had any other solution" He began. "But I need your help on a recon mission, almost all my effective got busted last night"

"Oh my, are they okay?" You frowned with concern, even if he couldn't see you.

"Yes, don't worry" He said, "I'll explain in person, that is if you agree to come. I'd understand if you refused, though"

You rubbed the bridge of your nose and closed your eyes for a second. You owed a lot to Bruce, and since it was a simple recon stakeout, you could take one or two nights off to help him out. You were already ahead of schedule in your studying and confident in your knowledge of the material.

"Yeah, sure, I'll be there" You finally answered. "What time do you want me over?"

"As soon as you can"

"Aight, see ya"

You hung up the phone and put it back on your desk, observing it for a second. It had been gifted to you by Bruce after you began going on missions more regularly with the batlings, he said that way he knew for sure all communications would be secure and sheltered from hacking or government surveillance. You had to admit, having an encrypted phone was pretty neat, as it ran entirely on Wayne Enterprises servers and networks. The simple thought of not having to suffer through youtube ads was satisfactory enough on its own to justify the need for it, even if you didn't join missions as much as you used to.

You finally stood up and went to change from your yoga pants and loose tank top to black jeans and a sweater, then jumped in your car and drove to the manor. You punched in your code at the gate and took the right to the garages, where you entered a second code to open the doors. Your car was several notches under those parked there, but you had to have something less flashy as not to attract too much attention. Still, it was more than a majority of college students even had. You had to thank Bruce for that too. He wasn't your adopted father per say, since he found you a few days before your eighteenth birthday, but he still acted like a guardian and mentor for you.

You jogged down to the batcave, where you instantly spotted a chatty blonde sprawled in a seat, making wild gesture. She sprung up straight at the sound of you coming in and her face split in a wide grin. She jumped on her feet and skipped toward you.

"Hey giiiiirl" She drawled out excitedly. "Long time no see!"

"Hey Steph" You chuckled, going for the hug. "Sorry I didn't call, I have no excuses"

"Don't worry about it" She waved off with an airy laugh. She knew how busy school kept you, and how you kind of wanted to separate yourself fromthe vigilante life. "I'm just glad you're here"

"So am I" Bruce called from the computers. He gave you a subtle smile, and you nodded back to him. "It seems like we're in a bit of an impasse here"

You didn't miss the quick glare he sent to Tim and Steph, who sheepishly avoided looking back at him. It didn't seem too serious though, or the air would have drastically changed.

"Before he says anything, know it wasn't our fault" Steph hurried to say.

"We were totally ambushed by Vicky Vale" Tim nodded along."No idea what she did there, but she was, and she saw right through our disguises.We had to bolt before she exposed us"

You frowned in confusion. "Okay can someone tell me what is going on here?"

"Tim and Steph were supposed to go undercover and cozy up with the high leaders of what I have suspicions on good authority are transiting premium grade opium into the US and Europe, and are close partners to Count Vertigo" Bruce began, already exhausted. "But as they said, Vicky Vale was somehow invited to the banquet and singled them out immediately before they could get even near the big guys"

"My magnificent blond mane attracts way too much attention, I'm afraid" Steph sighed sadly, making you chuckle. "It's a curse, babes. I tell ya"

"Keep telling yourself that, Stephi" A new voice came from the top of the stairs. You both wanted suddenly to go back to your books as a big part of why you barely tag along on missions anymore skipped down the stairs. Damn Dick Grayson, damn him. "We all know covert missions are not your strong point"

"I'm gonna kill you in your sleep, Grayson" She smiled sweetly at him.

"No, because you suck at being subtle" He returned the grin, just as sweetly if not more. He ruffled her hair as he passed by. "What's up Timbo"

He hummed something unintelligible, flipping his brother off. Dick laughed, then almost added something when he finally noticed you. His laughter died down and his eyes widened, and suddenly he looked uncomfortable. "Oh, you're here"

"So it seems" You replied as flatly as he spoke. It wasn't new, you had never known how to act around each other. Did you hate him? Of course not, you had absolutely no reason to. Did you consider him your friend? Hard to say. All you knew was that any and every encounter you had with Dick Grayson was awkward. You got along with Tim just fine, and even Jason when he was still around. You loved Cass and Duke, and you even managed to get on Dami's good side, or most of the time anyway. But Dick remained a mystery to you, one that had eluded you for years now. You didn't understand a single thing about that boy, and you doubted you ever would. You've had conversations before, loads of them, and you had no doubt he would make an amazing friend, but you couldn't seem to get past the stage of acquaintances.

Which was frankly disappointing, because you had been instantly attracted by his charms and easygoing nature when you first met. You had been drawn to him, and you couldn't try and pretend you hadn't pinned after him for the longest time. But you hit a wall when his behaviour began changing wildly around you, right around the time you slipped flirts every now and then to let him know that you were into him. Right now, you were just really over his poor attempts at pretending he never noticed it happen.

"So" Bruce spoke up, breaking the tension that had suddenly arisen in the cave. "Tomorrow night we'll have a new opening to try and get to them, hopefully without interruption this time. I've taken a look at the list, and no reporter was on it. We should be good"

"But Tim and Steph already got busted" You pointed out. "They'll know something is up if they show up again"

"That's why they will be seen at the Gotham Charity Auction at the museum" He explained, meeting your eyes. "That's why I called you up. You'll be going undercover with Dick as husband and wife"

"What?" Dick coughed almost immediately. "We're not–" He laughed nervously. "Us? As a married couple? This is ridiculous"

Your head turned sharply toward him, your eyebrows raised in disbelief. "Wow, thanks a lot for the vote of confidence" You snapped. "I didn't know being my fake husband was such a terrible perspective"

"No– Wait– That's not–" He stuttered, his eyes wide. "I didn't mean it that way"

"Sure" You rolled your eyes, before turning to Bruce again. He had an unreadable expression on his face, more unreadable than usually anyway. Tim and Steph stood there in stunned silence, not daring to speak up. "What's the briefing?"

Bruce glanced in between you and Dick, before looking back at you again. "Félix Lachance and Stella Gustavsson, they're the one you need to befriend. Since you're not known to the public, it'll be easier for Dick to pass under the radar and not cause an incident like last time"

"We get it, B" Tim muttered under his breath as Bruce passed you the files with the pictures.

"I need you to retrieve any information you can" He continued, ignoring Tim's comment. "Names of business partners, location of transactions, dates, anything, you know the gig. Your occupation and alias if you want one will be at your discretion, I trust you can deal with that. As always you need to be extremely careful as not to alert them, because this is our last chance to get the critical Intel we need to take this down. So I'll need you at your A game, both of you"

This was a warning and you knew it. He let you know more or less subtly to put aside whatever was happening between you and behave like adults. You straightened your back and took a deep breath, getting your head in the right mindset.

"Alright, I'll be ready for tomorrow night" You nodded as you gathered the files. "Can I stay over tonight? There is no point in trying to study now"

"You don't need to ask, (Y/N), you're always welcome here" Bruce said, a hint of fondness in his voice. He always liked having you around, he said your presence tamed the boys. You nodded and made your way upstairs, finding the room you claimed as your own for about a year, and the same you always came back to when you stayed the night.

You went to the drawers, fishing out old training clothes you had left behind. You weren't sure all those were yours, they were probably mixed with pieces you stole from Steph and Cass. In return, they probably did also steal from your drawer occasionally, balancing it all out. You were about to change into something comfy for bed when a soft knock at your door caught your attention. You walked to it and tentatively opening the door, your expression flattening when you saw how it was.

"Yes?"

"Hey um" Dick scratched the back of his neck. "I just wanted to say, I'm sorry it came out that way. I just meant that it would be, you know, weird"

You stared at him blankly. "You're not helping your case here, Dick"

"Shit, that's not what I mean either!" He hurried to say, realizing his mistake. But you were already closing the door. "Please (Y/N)–"

"Get some rest Dick" You said as you pushed the door closed. You sighed and shook your head before adding in a whisper, "God knows we'll need it"

------

You had done covert missions before, but this was the first time you were operating in such conditions. You finished retouching your hair, staring at yourself in the mirror, wondering whether or not it was more expensive than your total life income. The floor length champagne coloured dress was stunning, tailored to your form and just sparkly enough to let you shine through the design. You suspected the shoes were made especially to fit with the dress, as they resembled its lace and belt colour. You were sporting on top of that a heavy diamond necklace with matching earrings, proving the general high cost of the outfit. Your comm was carefully tucked in your ear, functional and well hidden.

"Oh my my" Steph whistled lowly. "If I wasn't dating Timbers I would date you"

You laughed. "This is the outfit talking. You haven't seen me tired and puffy in sweatpants just yet"

"Grump, just take the damn compliment" She playfully poked your exposed shoulder.

"Alright alright, thanks" You rolled your eyes. "Since it's gonna be the only one coming from this household anyway"

Steph wiggled her eyebrows. "Wouldn't be so sure about that" She said in a sing-song voice. "Your fake boyfriend may have some thoughts too"

"Ha" You snorted, walking out of your room with her following at your side. "It's good, that you're wishful thinking. The boy can't seem to talk to me without insulting me lately"

"Trust me, he won't be able to resist to this bombshell" She gestured at your form. "Dick's a people pleaser, and looking like a whole five course meal like that, you sure are easy to please if you want my opinion"

You shook your head, a small grin on your face. Steph had always been your favourite for a reason. She knew how you felt about Dick, but she never meddled. Well, not more than she typically would anyway, and not enough to cross your boundaries. And even then, she had no explanation either for his behaviour. You finally reached the foyer, where Bruce was dressed casually, sleeves rolled up and without a tie, talking to an all dressed up Dick, his hair now dark red and with almost black contact lenses. Your heels clicking on the stairs was what snapped their attention to you; Bruce nodding at his choice of dress for you, and Dick, his mouth slightly agape. You felt Steph gently but excitedly elbowing your ribs.

"Ah, (Y/N), there you are" Bruce said. "I'm glad to see the dress fits well"

"Yeah" Dick tried to smile, but it came out more like a grimace. "You look okay"

You blinked in disbelief as you heard Steph's facepalm behind you. You closed your eyes and exhaled through your nose, while Bruce shook his head slightly at his son.

"Yikes" Tim made his presence known. You shared this one word mood immensely right about now. "Way to go D"

Dick cleared his throat, trying to push back the embarrassment blush creeping up his cheeks. "Uh, shall we go?"

"That would be preferable, yes" Bruce replied, making Steph choke and cover he laughter with a cough. The way he said it was clearly meant to be a jab to his son's tactless attitude. "Be careful"

"Of course" You smiled tightly and all but dragged Dick outside. You'd take one of Bruce's luxury car to get there, and it was already waiting in the driveway. Dick pressed the door button and slowly, they lifted up to let you in. You slid in the passenger seat without waiting for Dick's help and you kept your eyes on the windshield in from of you as he began to drive. The ride was silent until he decided to speak again, tentatively.

"It's nice to see you all dressed up, for once" He said, still clearly not thinking of his choice of words more carefully. "It's different. A good different!"

For once? Was he serious?

You audibly sighed. "I'm begging you to just stop talking"

"What?" He objected, confused. "What did I say wrong this time– Oh"

"Yeah" You replied, your tone clipped and dry.

"I'm an idiot" He mumbled under his breath. That you could agree on, but you didn't voice it out loud.

He couldn't pull into the driveway fast enough. You slipped on your fake engagement ring as Dick stopped in front of the awaiting valet, doing himself the same thing. You both had a recording device slipped in your clothes, and the ring allowed you to turn it on and off at will, as well as the comm in your ear. You turned both off for the awaiting scan at the entrance, as not to emit detectable frequencies.

"Ready?" He asked, and you gave him a firm nod. He got out first and rounded the car, opening your door for you as he would be expected to by this particular crowd. You took his offered hand to climb out and linked your arm to his as he gave the keys to the valet in exchange for a ticket. He left a tip before you walked inside, registering to the guest list. You passed the security checkpoint without a hassle and found yourself in the hall where the auction was held. You turned on your comm and recording device again.

"Recon first, then regroup?" You suggested in a mutter as you were both visually scanning the room.

"Yep" He replied shortly. "B, copy?"

"Crystal clear"

"Good. Let's go"

While Dick headed to the bar, you opted for the art collection on display, pretending to scout for potential pieces to bid on. But your eyes weren't on the expensive paintings and statues, but moved around the room to spot some VIP lounge or area where the big shots might hang out at. There was a room where attendees came and went, but you shrugged it off as there wasn't enough security for the profile you were searching for. You paused your recon for small talk here and there, and you were in the middle of a casual chat about painted landscapes with an older gentleman when Dick rejoined your side, handing you a drink.

"There you are honey" He smiled sweetly, his unusually dark brown eyes reflecting the light from the chandelier.

"Joey, my love, allow me to introduce you to Sir Fernand Bretworth of Essex" His alias flew out of your mouth naturally, then you took a small sip of your drink. Non alcoholic, nice thinking. "We were discussing impressionism and its influence on modern art"

You wanted to smirk at the clueless look Dick gave you. He was a prodigy in a lot of things, but art wasn't one. It was more Damian's thing, or Tim's if he tried hard enough, but definitely not Dick's. Take that now.

"Ah, yes..." He replied slowly. "Fascinating indeed"

"Alright" You let out a small, cover up laugh as your hand rested on his bicep. "My husband has little interest in art, my apologies"

"No offence taken" He chuckled. "I'll leave you two, my wife must be looking for me. An old fool like me gets easily distracted!"

You laughed along with him until he was out of earshot. Then you dropped your hand and turned to him. "Noticed anything?"

"Yeah, there is a guarded room with special access" He said as you walked deeper into the crowd not to look suspicious. "Only owned of a special pass can go in, and the guards are very thorough"

"Great" You breathed. "Now let's hope out lovebirds will come out to mingle"

"As it turns out..." He trailed off, and instinctively, you began turning your head toward where his gaze lead. He immediately redirected your head back to him with a firm, but gentle touch on your cheek. His hand remained there for about three seconds longer than necessary, until he realized what he did and retracted his arm. You could have almost enjoyed it if he didn't look like he was touched by literal fire. "Don't look"

"Sorry" You mumbled, avoiding his gaze.

"... They got out, they're talking to people" He informed you, ignoring what just went down. "You go for Stella, I'll take Felix. Remember, friendly but not suspicious. Sweet talk your way into spilling the beans"

"I know" You bit back, your voice low. "Not my first mission, remember? I know what to do"

"I was just reminding you"

"Yeah, I got that" You scoffed. "If you don't trust me, just say so, it'll save you trouble of babying me"

"Come on, that's not–"

He began arguing, but you walked away before you could slip up and say his real name. It would give him one more reason to come down on you like you were a beginner in need of guidance. You were rusty, not stupid. You didn't need him insulting your undercover talents as well. You stopped in front of a beautiful emerald necklace that had a start bid of ten millions dollars and took a long sip of your drink, now kind of bummed it was non alcoholic. But that very detail was probably why you felt a presence approaching you from behind, giving you a few seconds to compose yourself and sweep your frustration under the rug.

"Trouble in paradise?"

You turned around, surprised. It looked like the voice made you jump, when it was in fact the nature of the question that threw you off, as well as the person who had spoken. Before you could ask, the Stella Gustavsson smiled warmly and nodded to where Dick had been seconds earlier.

"I saw what happened" She began, and your heart skipped a beat, hoping she hadn't overheard. "Those frustrated hands gesture are all too familiar. What did he do?"

You relaxed slightly, for now. "We've been having trouble lately, well, more than usually" You explained with a little complicit cock of your head. She seemed to get it. You, on the other hand, knew Dick was hearing everything on his comm, so you decided to go for it. "He's acting... Weird. Can't seem to talk to me without irritating me, whether on purpose or not. I'm sorry, I'm venting to a stranger, I can't imagine how it must look look like.

"Don't worry about it dear, I asked" She winked, extending her hand. "I'm Stella"

"Aleka" You shook her hand.

"Your dress is stunning, by the way!" She exclaimed. "Which designer?”

You froze for a second before shrugging. "No idea, my designer got it for me" You brushed off. "As long as it looks good, I don't care where it comes from"

"Amen" She said, taking a sip of her champagne. "Although, I need to know the name of your designer. They have amazing taste, and I'm looking for a new one for myself"

Oh shit.

"It's B" You replied instantly.

"Bee?"

"Yeah" You nodded, and she looked at you incredulously. "I mean, that's what we all call him. I'm sure he has a name, but I pay him to dress me, not to know his personal life"

"Harsh, (Y/N)" Bruce said in your ear, and you remembered he had been listening to everything. "But nice save"

She laughed, unaware of the comments from Batman himself. "That is very true. How have I not met you before? I feel we have a lot in common"

"I sincerely have no idea" You replied, adding a little gasp of disbelief.

"You're different from this crowd, I can feel it" She kept going on as you started walking side by side in the exposition room. "Everyone here only cares about petty, trivial things. You have a head on your shoulders, you're smart. Too bad your man can't seem to see what's in front of him"

You sighed in agreement to hide the fist pump of victory that threatened to come up. Just like that, you had won Stella over. "I don't know what to do about it. I've tried to talk to him, but it just makes it worse"

"But have you tried to make him jealous?" She suggested with a perfectly shaped eyebrow raised. "There are plenty of young men around, or older bachelors if you're into that. Flirt with them, make sure he sees you, he'll come running, take my word"

"It won't work, he's not–" Even my boyfriend, you were about to say, but you saved your fall just on time. Still, you could practically see Dick's glare in the back of your head at the almost slip up. "Jealous. He's not a jealous man, he's very confident and secure"

"What a shame" She drawled out, going for her champagne again. "Here's what you can do then. Go to him, take him by the neck and french kiss him like there is no tomorrow”

You choked on your saliva as she watched you with a mischievous grin. "Excuse me?"

"It's guaranteed to work, darling" She lifted her shoulder in an elegant shrug. "Then you hold him off. You'll thank me later tonight when you're back at home, just wait and see"

You were about to argue some more, but her insisting stare told you she wasn't just going to let it go. So you scanned the crowd for Dick, spotting him casually excusing himself from a conversation group, going for a refill at the bar. You reached him and grabbed him by the elbow, bringing him face to face with you. You made sure your back was to Stella before beginning to explain the situation.

"I heard" He told you in a mutter, making sure his lips were unreadable under Stella's stare from the distance.

"Then you know what she expects" You sighed, slipping your hands behind his neck. "It doesn't have to be deep, just convincing. Can you do this without grimacing?"

You thought he would stumble into some weak apology, or say something clever. He did neither, instead dived straight for your lips so quickly it was you who was taken by surprise. Naturally, all you could do is kiss him back and try to keep up with him. At some point you thought he would break off, but you weren't prepared for him to actually deepen the kiss. He wasn't letting you go, and it made you dizzy in all the best ways. Let's say you were thankful for his arm around your waist right about now. Finally, you still had to breathe, so you parted reluctantly.

"What was that for?" You asked, your eyes still dazed.

"An apology for irritating you unintentionally" He grinned boyishly, for probably the first time ever directed at you. "I'm an idiot"

"Can confirm" You replied, bringing him down on your lips again. This time, it was a bit shorter, but the spark was still very much present. "You should have done this a long time ago"

"I know" He nodded, his head slightly down and his puppy dog eyes shining even underneath the dark contact lenses. "You're a bit intimidating, I didn't know how to act"

You let out a loud laugh at his confession. "You're kidding"

He pouted.

"Me?" You repeated. "But you're– You're you!"

"Well, duh" He chuckled. "You've got me all tangled in here," He pointed at his chest. "Made me nervous all the time"

You melted just a little bit at his little display, before remembering doing this was a specialty of his. You were just not used to be on the receiving end of it. "You're lucky you're cute, and that I'm already sold on you"

The bright grin returned.

"As heartwarming as this moment is, please focus on the task at hand" Bruce's stern voice echoed in your head, and you were suddenly reminded your conversation had been integrally transmitted to him.

"Right, sorry" Dick apologized sheepishly.

"See, I told you"

This time, you were taken by surprise by Stella walking on you. Even Bruce's intervention hadn't quite brought you back to reality. Damn Dick Grayson, damn him. You turned around, trying to hide your flustered state and instead focusing on the tall gentleman at her side. Must be Felix Lachance, you thought.

"It works every time" She added, sipping from a new glass of champagne.

"You were right" You let out an airy laugh. "Stella, this is my husband Joey Moore. Joey, this is my new friend Stella"

They shook hands before she introduced her husband to the both of you. You already knew his name, but you both pretended you didn't for the sake of your covers.

"Nice to meet you two" Félix smiled politely.

"Hey, would you like to go for a drink after this?" Stella asked. "I sure would like to get to know you two better"

Dick and you exchanged a glance, knowing you had locked the target. Acquiring intel from now on would only be a piece of cake, the base was laid for further actions. You smiled, returning your glance to Stella.

"That would be absolutely lovely"

#dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson imagine #nightwing #nightwing x reader #nightwing imagine #dc #dcu #dc universe #dc imagine #dcu imagine #dc universe imagine #batfam #batfam imagine #imagine #nightwing x you #dick grayson x you

272 notes · View notes

villa-kulla · 3 years ago

Text

Fic Writer Review

Tagged by @fontainebleau22, thanks for the tag, sorry for the delay!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

26 at the moment.

2. What’s your total AO3 wordcount?

722 309. I’d have thought it would be more considering how long some of mine seem to get, although looking at other people’s answers to this meme, I guess 26 isn’t really a huge number!

3. How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

My first fic ever was a little Lord of the Rings experiment for an exchange thing. But my first proper dip into writing for a fandom would have been Breaking Bad, where I wrote for a couple of years before it felt like my ideas had run their course. Then there was a Kingsman fic, and then Mag7 where - similarly to BrBa - wrote feverishly for a couple years until it felt like the well had been plumbed. Oh yeah and then jumped into the Marvel fandom to drop one Marvel fic before immediately jumping back out lol.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

So the Marvel fic has officially just become my most kudoed fic, which is kind of hilarious considering it was a SUEZ! CANAL! FIC! But in my opinion, a good one lol. So yeah, it would be 1. The SamBucky Suez Canal fic, 2. The Kingsman soccer AU, 3. Desert Sand, 4. Chisolm’s 7, and 5. Blue Devils. That last one surprises me, but I guess it was an early one for the fandom, so I think it became an automatic read.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not

I do! It’s possible I’ve missed some here and there, but generally I try to get them all.

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

I don’t think any of them! While my fics definitely include angst, ideally it’s still in a fun way, or at minimum, bittersweet? I don’t generally want the last taste in a reader’s mouth to be angst. ALTHOUGH. I really really wanted to include an epilogue to the selkie fic that’s kind of angsty. Basically the story would end, but then many years later we’d see an old man get off a bus on the coastal road, carrying a suitcase. He’d be wearing a suit, clearly back from many years travelling. He’d walk to the coast, back over a hill where there’d once been a little fishing cottage, long since torn down. He’d walk down to the beach and into a little cove where he’d kneel by the water he knew better than anyone. Opening the suitcase he’d take out a box which he’d then empty into the ocean, ashes spreading across the water. He’d take out a folded bundle of cloth and wrap it around his shoulders. Then he’d dive into the water, disappearing into the waves, leaving nothing but an empty suitcase behind him, and a folded pile of clothes.

I loved that ending but I’m still not 100% sure if it was keeping in tone with the actual ending, so I left it out. Maybe one day I’ll go and add it as en extra chapter snippet.

7. Do you write crossovers? If so what’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I don’t know if I’d call them ‘crossovers’ exactly, although I did stick Goody and Billy into a Some Like it Hot ‘jazz band on a train’ situation, and I also did a Breaking Bad one that used some elements of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. Those feel more like ‘AUs’ though. I like situational crossovers, but I’ve never been super into fics where characters from different fandoms actually interact.

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Thankfully not. The most off-putting comment I’ve gotten was someone who - despite being very complimentary - decided to make a full-on laundry list all the anachronisms in a chapter lmao, like what. Stuff like "interesting that this character used this expression when XYZ would only been invented 10 years later!” etc. I’m positive they didn’t realize how it came off, but still, that was kind of hilarious in its.....obliviousness lol. It was special.

9. Do you write smut? If so what kind?

I do. And I guess I’ve done the full spectrum of ‘fade to black’ to ‘describe every bead of sweat in pearlescent detail’. It really depends on what the fic calls for! I’ve done some I’m quite proud of tbh, but there are others I’d like to go back and have another stab at, just because they felt kinda cookie-cutter.

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of!

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

There’ve been a couple! I can’t remember which ones specially, but I had some people asking to translate some Breaking Bad ones, and I think a Mag7 one too. I remember someone messaging to ask permission like “We love your fics in Russia!” and that was a very sweet and wild thing to hear.

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes, I wrote one with @yoporkchopsandwiches! Our Victorian opium dens Breaking Bad AU lol. I was just thinking of that recently actually and remembering how fun it was to read what the other wrote! We plotted out most of it together, and then took turns writing chapters or scenes. But of course while writing you come up with other details or ideas, so we’d then present the new chapter to the other with all the new bits added. And it was so fun to read what the other came up with like ‘omg no way didn’t see that coming/good idea!’ and then picking up their idea from there. In that sense it was almost like improv but for writers.

13. What’s your all-time favourite ship?

That I’ve written? I think I’ve had the most fun with Goodnight/Billy, partly for the time period, partly for the dynamic, but mostly for the plausibility. While I really enjoyed writing BrBa, it felt more like it came from enthusiasm for the show, not the central ship lol. Don’t get me wrong, the chemistry and its potential was extremely fun to write in a fic setting, but I don’t find I actually shipped it while watching the show itself. Whereas it’s been nice with Mag7 to write for a ship that’s actually....more believable lol.

14. What’s a wip that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Ugh I can’t beLIEVE I have an unfinished fic up on ao3 lol it haunts me. I was sure I was done with Goodnight/Billy, and then early quarantine last year I had a train robbers AU idea, so I posted a couple chapters. But I don’t think my heart was super in it, I was more just messing around with the idea. I don’t want to delete it, but I’m also not super motivated to finish it haha, but we’ll see what happens. But tbh I like the poem summary better than the fic itself:P

15. What are your writing strengths?

Plotting, keeping things moving, and making stories feel visual maybe? They’re almost all movies in my head anyways, so I think I have good instincts for ‘cinematic moments’.

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

I think I’m a little lazy, and also ‘end-product oriented’. In some ways it’s helpful to picture the whole fic before you write it, but sometimes it results in some scenes feeling slightly slapdash because I’m just trying to get them out to move onto the next. Like ‘everyone did everything I wanted to in this scene? Great, next.’ I could stand to ‘stop and smell the roses’ more while I write, and actually see what else I can do to improve a scene.

(also if I use a word once it sticks in my head I end up using it like 5 other times in a scene and don’t notice lol, I need to stop that)

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

All for it! Depends how it’s done though. I personally find long scenes of dialogue where you have to constantly jump down to the author’s notes for the translations to be distracting. I like when it’s integrated more naturally where actual translations aren’t super important. Like in River Grit, Billy overhears this little exchange between Goodnight and his childhood nanny:

“Ah c’est vrai, mon petit Bonsoir! J’en peux pas le croire!” she cried out and laughed as she embraced Goody. Billy realized with a start that he actually recognized one of the words: ‘Bonsoir’. Goodnight. (insert brief flashback of Goody teaching him the nickname) / “Ma Serafine,” Goodnight said with a laugh. “C’est vrai que tu ne vieillis pas. Tu vas me rendre jaloux, heh?” / Billy had no idea what Goodnight was saying, but he sure as hell recognized Goodnight’s tone for flattery, and it was confirmed when the old woman laughed and smacked his arm.

What they’re actually saying is: “Oh it’s true, my little Goodnight! I can’t believe it!” / “My Serafine, it’s true you never age. You’re going to make me jealous”. But it doesn’t matter because this fic is from Billy’s POV so it’s about how he experiences the language around him, which is why I wouldn’t have included a translation for the reader. If you understand it then it’s a bonus, but the words themselves aren’t really the point!

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

That lil Lord of the Rings fic.

19. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

Hmm for Mag7 I’ve always liked River Grit and love how it turned out. I also think Ashes feels very complete as a fic and I liked the flashback format. And while it’s not my favourite fic, in hindsight I’m impressed with the Kingsman football fic and how I had to write about 5 different soccer games and make them all feel different and exciting, and not just some variation of ‘He kicked the ball!’ I’m really pleased with how those sequences all turned out.

La fin! Not tagging anyone this time, but please feel free to do this if you see it! I love when people just take initiative to do these things without waiting for a tag (also please tag me in it if you do, ‘cause I love reading these things lol)

#shares #fontainebleau22

6 notes · View notes

fic-for-fic-sake · 6 years ago

Text

New Years Eve, Loki x reader

A/N: Hey, this is just a little New Years oneshot I wrote. The reader gets an anxiety attack while at a club on New years Eve and Loki helps her out. Btw I don’t think Opium is an actual club in NYC, but it’s the name of a club I went to once in Barcelona, lmao. Hope you enjoy.

Becoming an avenger was one of those things that you never thought was possible until it happened. You had been caught teleporting stolen items from a store to your home. The police brought you in and you were facing quite a few years in jail but you were saved by none other than Tony Stark. He found out you were only stealing so you could provide for your family and he asked you if you wanted to use your teleporting gifts for good. You accepted and moved into the avengers complex in upstate New York.

Ever since that day, a little over two years ago now, being an avenger was amazing. You got to help people and save the world and those things took you to incredible locations, but it also meant there wasn’t much downtime. However, this year everyone at the compound had decided to spend New Years Eve together. Even Thor and Loki who weren’t entirely sure why humans would celebrate the passage of time said they would join the festivities.

Everyone had been debating what to do and where to go for a few weeks now until one day Tony just decided to have everyone go to times square for the evening. This prompted a discussion you weren’t too pleased with.

“Wait, Tony, how are we possibly going to get down to times square?” Asked Steve as he made his way into the common area.

“Geez Cap I know you’re from the 40s but I thought surely you must’ve been in a car before.” Tony replied sarcastically as he sat down in an armchair.

“Har Har very funny.” Steve retorted rolling his eyes. “I just meant how would we be able to get down there just because it’s so packed on New Years Eve. The whole city is crawling with tourists.”

“He does have a point Tony.” Natasha chimed in as she sat down on the couch with Clint following close behind.

“I’ve got an idea!” Tony said as he clapped his hands together. “Why doesn’t Y/N just teleport everyone down?”

You nearly choked on your glass of water at the mention of your name, “I’m sorry what?” You said with a shocked expression glued to your face. They had to be joking, there’s no way they were serious about it.

“You can teleport us down two at a time that way we don’t need to bring a car and we can squeeze into the crowd.” Tony explained as he turned to fully face you.

“That is an excellent idea Stark!” Thor boomed as he walked into the room with a smile on his face. “I’m sure the Lady Y/N would be honored to do it.” He practically beamed at you.

You could feel yourself shrinking under the gaze of all of them. They were so expectant and so sure of you that you could do this. You could feel yourself beginning to panic when suddenly you felt a hand squeeze your own. You looked up to the owner said hand to find none other than Loki with a sympathetic expression on his face. He knew how much teleporting everyone there and back would take out of you and he could feel the panic escaping your body. He gave your hand a reassuring squeeze and you saw a small smile cross his lips.

You gave him a gentle nod before giving everyone else your answer. “Okay, I’ll do it.” You said as you put your hands in the air in mock defeat as everyone around you cheered. It wouldn’t be easy but you would try your hardest to get everyone there and back. After everything the avengers had done for you, this was the least you could do in return.

Everyone then broke off to get ready and you all planned to meet back in the common room at 9:45pm sharp. You were still feeling nervous about transporting everyone over so you decided to take a hot shower to soothe your tension. After your shower you stood in your room in your bathrobe avoiding getting ready as if that would avoid the inevitable. You were trying to take calming breaths when you heard a knock at the door. Sighing you reluctantly crossed the room and opened the door only to find Loki standing on the other side.

“Loki, what are you doing here?” You asked incredulously as you led him into your room. You watched as he leaned against one of your walls, his hands in his pockets. He wasn’t dressed yet but he looked amazing in his normal everyday clothes.

“I couldn’t help but notice how unenthused you were at Stark’s proposal this afternoon.” Loki responded matter of factly.

“Loki, I don’t know what you’re talking about. It’ll be fine, I’m fine.” You responded with as light of a tone as possible. You tried to brush him off, you didn’t want him to know how much you were freaking out.

“Y/N, you may have fooled everyone else but you can’t fool me. I’m the god of lies, remember?” He asked as he quirked his head to one side.

You sighed as you sat down on your bed in defeat. He was right. There was no use lying to him. “Fine, you win. I’m freaking out. Transporting is fine when it’s in short bursts but I don’t know if I’ll be able to take so many people. It really wears me out and it’s bringing out my anxiety which is heightened anyway with the prospect of spending New Years surrounded by so many people.” Finally saying it out loud did little to calm your nerves.

Wordlessly, Loki closed the distance between the two of you and sat on your bed across from you. He took your hands in his and lightly rubbed his thumb over your knuckles in a soothing gesture. “Y/N, look at me. It’ll be okay. I’m here okay. I can also transport people so you don’t have to do it alone. Stark was an idiot for asking this of you.” Loki said in a voice barely above a whisper. It shocked you how gentle he was being but you were grateful for it. You don’t think you could stand anyone yelling or mocking you today.

“Thank you Loki, that really helped me.” You said as you continued to hold his hands, not wanting to give up the contact just yet.

You could tell that he knew you weren’t as okay as you were letting on but you weren’t sure how much more you wanted to share with the god, there wasn’t much he could do the alleviate all of your anxieties.

After a little while longer, Loki stood up and left your room telling you he still had to get ready himself. But he said he would be back at 9:40, so the two of you could walk down to the common room together.

You stood up after Loki shut the door behind him and went to your closet, determined to find something to wear. After you leafed through what felt like every clothing item you owned you found what you were looking for. A black long sleeve sweater dress that came down to your knees and hugged your curves. It was comfortable enough but also stylish so you felt like you were actually trying. You decided to pair it with gold high heeled shoes and did your makeup in a similar golden shade.

Your hair was down in soft ringlets that framed your face. You smiled at yourself in the mirror, even if you felt like dying inside, you looked good on the outside. You were just putting in a pair of diamond stud earrings when you heard a soft knock at the door. You opened it to reveal Loki, dressed to the nines. You couldn’t help the small gasp that came out of your mouth at his appearance. He was wearing an all black suit that was perfectly tailored to his body. You could make out his lean muscles and the black made his pale skin seem even lighter. His midnight locks fell softly to his shoulder. He looked the part of a prince of asgard.

“Hi” you breathed as you continued to drink him in.

“Hi yourself.” He responded as he held out his hand for you which you took. He brought his lips down to your hand for a gentle kiss. “You look absolutely stunning Y/N” He replied as he offered his arm to you.

You could feel yourself blush a little under his gaze as you entwined your arm with his and began to walk to the stairs. As the two of you walked down towards the common room you felt your heart begin the beat faster and you were sure it wasn’t all based in your anxiety. When you finally made it to the common room everyone whooped and cheered at the sight of the two of you together. You could feel your blush darken.

“Okay, I think it’ll be easier for me if I just take everyone at the same time. That way we all stick together and I don’t have to make multiple trips.” You said matter of factly as you made your way to the center of the room. “Tony all I need from you is a location and I’m good to go.”

“Sure thing Y/N. We’re going to Opium in Manhattan.” Tony said as he finished his scotch.

“Opium it is. If everyone could just make a circle and all hold hands that would be great.” You said, your voice quavering ever so slightly. You knew you would be going to a club tonight but now that it was literal moments away, your previous anxieties came flooding back to you. Before you could think more on the matter Loki was at your side and took your hand in his. Feeling him there next to you was reassuring enough and gave you the strength you needed.

You successfully teleported everyone to the entrance of the club but lost your footing as soon as you touched solid ground. Before you could react Loki wrapped a hand around your waist in an attempt to stabilize you. You leaned into him, thankful for the support. His hand against your midsection sent goosebumps throughout your entire body. You were thankful for the long sleeves of your dress for hiding your excitement.

When you got into the club you made your way over to the bar where you ordered a double vodka soda. Trying by any means necessary to calm your nerves. After you downed that you grabbed another and made your way onto the dance floor to try and find the other Avengers. The condensation from your glass made your hands cold but it felt good to the stark contrast of the rest of your body which you were sure was overheating. You weren’t sure you would find the other members of the team but you saw Natasha’s red hair and you smiled, a literal beacon in the crowd.

You cautiously made your way over to them, careful not to spill your drink. You joined them on the dance floor and decided to just let loose and dance. You laughed as Thor tried his best to dance but it was like a bull in a china shop. There just wasn’t enough space for him. Natasha and Wanda grabbed you and spun you around which made the three of you burst into a fit of giggles. By this point you were slightly buzzed and just happy to be out with friends. But then you felt two arms wrap around your waist and you stood straight as a pole. You were about to bolt when you heard a soothing voice whisper in your ear.

“Shhh it’s alright love it’s just me.” Loki’s voice cut through the noise like a knife. You immediately relaxed in his arms and began to sway against him. Natasha and Wanda gave you a knowing glance but you rolled your eyes at them. After you finished your second drink you handed them your glass and they walked away, leaving you and Loki alone on the dance floor.

You took the opportunity to turn around in his arms so you two were face to face.

“Hi” You said as you looked up at him and smiled.

“Hi again” he replied.

“Thanks for your help today, it really meant a lot to me.” You said earnestly as you looked him in the eye.

“Your welcome. I couldn’t stand the idea of you being in any kind of pain so anything I could do to help I wanted to.” He replied with so much sincerity you thought you would cry. You couldn’t believe he was saying this to you.

Before either of you could say much else a faster song came on and all the other avengers came back over to dance together. You and Loki reluctantly broke apart but remained near each other. As you kept dancing you became aware that you were sobering up. With that came the realization of where you were again. You began to notice how little room you had, how hot your body was in your dress, how loud everything around you was. Your body noticed every time someone else brushed against it and slowly but surely it felt like all of the oxygen was being sucked out of the room and you were struggling to breathe.

You knew what was happening, you could feel you panic attack creep in. You knew there was little to nothing you could do to stop it once it happened and you really didn’t feel like crying in a dimly lit gross club bathroom with drunk people wandering in an out and people probably hooking up in the stalls. Before you could second guess yourself you teleported back to the base and into your bathroom. You turned on the faucet as you tried to splash your face with cold water in an attempt to calm down but it didn’t work. You felt your body begin to heave and shake as violent sobs ripped through you.

It had been too much, you had pushed yourself too far and now you were facing the consequences. Not being able to move much you sank down on your cold tiled bathroom floor and hugged your knees to your chest as you continued to sob. The sound echoing off the walls of the bathroom only made it worse. You sat there trying to rock yourself back and forth in a feeble attempt to self soothe. Nothing was working to calm yourself down, you tried counting backwards, breathing deeply, smacking a hair tie against your wrist but nothing worked. All you could do was sit there helplessly as the sound of your own cries reverberated around you.

You were still sobbing when you saw the bathroom door open. Through your watery vision you saw a figure move swiftly to your side. You said nothing as Loki lifted you effortlessly in his arms and walked you out of the bathroom and laid you down on your bed. He laid down next to you and you curled yourself into his chest. He wrapped his arms around you and began to stroke your back in a soothing gesture.

“Shhhhh.” His whispered into your hair, “Y/N it’s okay. I’m right here. I’m here for you.” He said as he gently began to rock you back and forth. You wrapped your arms around him and pulled him close. His voice wrapped around you like a blanket and you began to ease into his touch. His warm body felt good against your own. Your sobs began to lessen until you were all cried out. You two continued to lay there in the dark for what felt like forever. The only sounds were the tiny reassurances Loki would murmur into your hair between kisses and your ragged breath.

After a while you sat up and Loki followed, so that you were facing each other. You leaned forward and crawled into his lap as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a hug.

“What time is it?” You breathed into his ear.

You felt one of his arms leave your waist as he checked his watch, “It’s a little after midnight” He responded in an equally low voice.

You chuckled as you leaned back and pressed your forehead against his.

“Happy New Year Loki.” You smiled as you wrapped your hands around his neck once more.

“Happy New Year Darling.” Loki responded as he softly brushed your tear stained cheeks with his thumb. Then, ever so gently, he leaned forward and pressed his lips against yours in the sweetest kiss imaginable.

Your whole body warmed up seemingly from the inside. He tightened his hold around your waist as he deepened the kiss and you moaned into his mouth. For the first time it felt like it was truly a Happy New Year.

@lokixme @drakesfiance

#new years eve #new years #loki x reader #loki fanfic #loki oneshot #loki x you #marvel fanfic #avengers fanfic #marvel #writing #fanfic #text post

84 notes · View notes

bbbarneswrites · 7 years ago

Text

High-Heeled Heaven

Read Chapter One: Christian Louboutin for Ulyana Sergeenko Couture

Sebastian Stan x Reader

Summary: In which Sebastian can’t help but appreciate his girl’s high-heels shoes. Genre: Romance/fluff Warnings: Swearings 1,436 words

Notes: Inspired by Hell in High Heels by Jewelgirl04, I decided to write a little series of drabbles so we can be trash about how Seb likes high-heels. I’m not even sorry. Each chapter will be inspired by a different pair of shoes that I wish I could actually afford, lmao. The link down there provides a better look to the shoes if you want and in the middle of the fic there’s a link for the full outfit. Happy reading. <3

Chapter Two: Yves Saint Laurent Opium Pumps

Four months after the end of the press tour and one year after you first met at the table read, you’re pleased and low-key surprised to say that you and Sebastian are still going strong.

Stepping out of his ensuite bathroom with your outfit on and hair done, you can’t help but feel your heart warm up with affection as you spot him laying on the bed with his sweatpants pajamas and short messy hair as he idly flicks around through the TV channels with a little frown between his eyebrows.

You walk over to his dressing table where your make-up is splayed all around and start to prepare your skin, completely ignoring his presence even though you know he’s looking at you.

Today is the birthday of one of your closest friends and you took advantage of Sebastian’s huge bathroom to get ready for the dinner party she’s throwing to celebrate. But her party just happens to be in one of Sebastian’s last days home before he sets off for the Marvel press tour.

Hence why you currently have a slightly grumpy man’s relentless stare burning at you.

Though you really wouldn’t mind just skipping the party altogether to stay with him in a Friday night, you had promised to Shay that you’d be there and since it’d been a while since you last saw her, you figured it was the right thing to do.

And there’s this – you know that all that grumpiness is just an act and he’s rather enjoying the view of you walking around his place with that black corset top on.

As you move on with your make-up, you manage to catch Sebastian’s furtive gaze on you through the mirror a few times and you can’t barely hold back a smirk at the funny faces he pulls to hold back his own laughter when he gets caught.

He looks so adorable that it almost gives you seconds thoughts about going to the party for a moment.

Not that he needs to know that.

“If you look any more miserable, I’ll punch you in your perfect face.” You break the silence with a playful tone, glancing at him through the mirror as he just feigns confusion. “I mean it. I’m not feeling guilty for going out today and leaving your puppy ass here, nope.”

Sebastian shifts around the bed, running a hand through his now short and slicked back hair before moving over to sit at the edge of the mattress behind you.

You nearly sigh contently at his sight when he looks up to you through the mirror again. Even though he’s lost some of his muscles, he’s still looking as buff as ever and the shirt he’s wearing does little to hide it. And God, let’s not even talk about the new haircut.

You thought you’d truly miss his long locks and hairbun until you saw that.

“I’m not looking miserable.” Sebastian protests as seriously as he can, his expression soon melting into an amused one when you glare meaningfully at him. “Ok, maybe a little bit but that’s because I thought we’d stay in today.”

You roll your eyes at his antics before closing up the mascara, giving your finished make-up a final look before turning around to face him.

“No, you told me that you were going to stay in today.” You remark with a little grin, reaching around your neck to adjust your necklace as he raises his eyebrows to look clueless. “I told you that I had Shay’s birthday dinner to go for weeks now.”

“I can’t believe you’re seriously passing up the chance to watch Game of Thrones with me tonight.” Sebastian replies indignantly, shaking his head in disapproval when you raise your eyebrows defiantly at him. “It’s Game of Thrones.”

The cute way he says ‘Game of Thrones’ makes you smile fondly as you step between his legs, your hands cupping each side of his stubbly cheeks as he places his own on your jeans clad hips.

You can’t believe his poor ass mocked acting is almost getting through you.

“Game of Thrones and you. I know.” You lean over to press a little kiss to his lips, smiling smugly when he chases you once you pull back. “I love you both but I promised her I would go and she’s been bugging me about this since she started planning.”

Seb lets out a little huff at your words and falls back against the bed, his hair splayed over the mattress as you turn around to the dressing table again to pick up your earrings and a few bracelets.

“Well then, I guess I’ll just have to order some burgers from that place we like.” He says with a snobbish grin, turning around to his side and propping himself up on one elbow once you turn to him with raised eyebrows. “And eat it all by myself, you know.”

“Sebastian Stan, you wouldn’t dare.” You point a finger threateningly at him even though your little grin lets him know that you don’t mean it. “I won’t speak to you for a week if you do that and you know I mean it.”

“When are you coming back?” He changes the subject with a serious little frown this time, momentarily worried about your being. “You’re getting an Uber or what?”

Before you can answer him, you walk over to your bag and pick up the black fancy box that is resting beside it to get your shoes.

You usually don’t see the need to call your stylist if you don’t really have an official event or premiere because honestly, sometimes you can’t even believe you have a freaking stylist in the first place. But since you know that the place Shay is throwing the dinner in is kinda fancy, you thought it wouldn’t hurt to bring in some help.

You absolutely love the black top she’d send but the shoes are definitely something else. And yeah, you’d definitely be lying if you said that you weren’t hoping that the pumps would spur Sebastian on.

So you get the shoes out of the box and walk over until you’re right in front of him to then answer his question because you’re nothing but strategical .

“Yeah, I guess so. I’m not staying too long anyway.” You reply as nonchalantly as you can, placing the shoes on the floor and making a show to step into them once you notice he’s looking at them. “Why?”

“Where did you get those?”

And there he goes again.

He’s looking at the shoes so firmly that you think he might even miss your reply.

“Oh, these?” You ask innocently before raising one of your feet to the edge of the bed, popping it up so he can see the details on the heel. “Dani got them for me for the night. I’ll have to give it back by Sunday.”

Sebastian hums in understanding and moves to sit up again, your propped foot placed right between his legs before he reaches out to your hips again.

“You sure you have to?” Seb asks casually, arms wrapping around your waist as he pulls you down to straddle his lap with an exaggerated shrug. “I mean– these are something else. Where are they from?”

You can’t help but bite your lower lip once you settle down on his lap because he’s good at this and he knows it and you love it even though you think his occasional shy awkward self is to die for too. And also because your plan is working out even better than you had previously thought. And also to try and control yourself so you won’t jump on him.

“Yves Saint Laurent.” You grin giddily with your arms around his neck, giving him a quick peck as you see his fingers trailing the words on the shoes’ heel “And yes, I have to. And I’m internally panicking over using them and accidentally ruining it so don’t even start.”

“Maybe you could ruin them.” He offers with a half grin, closing his eyes for a brief moment when you run your fingernails through his back, shivers raising up on his spine. “And then I’d buy them for you.”

“Are you going to keep offering to buy me expensive brands heels shoes forever?” You joke with a flirty smile, trailing your lips through his neck and jaw with little kisses. “I might accept your offer sometime.”

And as it turns out, you might actually get late for the party because fuck it.

“Only if you wear them for me.”

Chapter Three: Casadei Blade Suede Boots

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan one shot #sebastian stan imagine #drabble game #high heeled heaven #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes fanfiction

140 notes · View notes

psi-psina · 7 years ago

Text

The Hounds of Baskerville, a long-ass read-through.

Pt one, 221B.

I haven’t done this to an episode in years... I’m gonna preface this with a quick summary on how I read the symbolism in the show so that anyone who might happen to read this might have a clue as to what I’m talking about. The symbolism I’m referring to here is the double-meaning attached in the text to food/hunger, drug use/cravings, and tea.

Edit: I almost forgot! Full credits to Ariane DeVere for the episode transcripts! Without her there would BE no Sherlock meta lmao.

Mirrors are:

Bluebell = Sherlock

Henry Knight = Sherlock

Louise Mortimer = John

Jaqui Stapleton = John

Corporal Lyons = Sherlock

Major Barrymore = John

Bob Frankland = Moriarty

Billy & Gary = Sherlock & John

The Fisherman & The Widow = John & Sherlock

Moriarty: Sherlock

Mycroft: Sherlock

Mrs. Hudson: Sherlock

Lestrade: Sherlock

Baskerville is the Heartroom (a depressing situation).

Note on how I read the symbolism:

Tea = Sentiment.

Does this need an explanation. Tea is warm, comforting, hospitable, lovely, as good as a hug. Making someone tea is a universally accepted gesture of warmth and hospitality. Sherlock loves tea, he makes so much tea, he wants it ALL the time, because he’s a SCHMALTZ. He goes so far as to reject all other forms of sustenance (i.e. FOOD!) in favour of it, but no one can survive solely on tea, Sherlock!

Eating as Intimacy and, Hunger = Desire.

Food, and eating as an act both carnal and communal, carries meaning in all cultures and in literature the world over; the association between gluttony and lust, feasting and orgies etc, is as old as the bible, in which desire and shame itself entered the human realm via the eating of forbidden fruit. It’s permeated literature ever since. Practically speaking, food has been used to denote the other appetites in film and lit for a long, long time for reasons both practical and creative.

So in regard to Sherlock, in the unaired pilot when John and Sherlock go to Angelo’s, they equate the act of eating and the act of having sex when Sherlock pointedly uses the same phrase (“Everything else is transport.”) to field questions about his “appetites”. Then John asks if Sherlock has a “girlfriend” who “feeds him up”, explicitly framing eating (or in this case being fed) in a romantic context.

The pilot isn’t strictly speaking canon, but they have clearly carried this thread over completely into the finished version of the show, they just haven’t spelled it out quite like this, which allowed them to embed it into the show with a lot more nuance. They wait until ASiB to even draw an explicit connection between “dinner” and “romance”. Eating is still framed very romantically in S1 but the link isn’t made explicit until later when Irene flat-out states that her asking Sherlock to have “dinner” with her is her attempt at being delicate in broaching the topic of sex with him.

In the show, eating is never framed in terms of the act of sex, but in terms of hunger (a synonym for desire) and intimacy. Hunger = Desire, in the text. It’s the simplest synonym to parse, ever.

Sherlock’s Cravings/Drug Use as Lust/Libido

They lifted this right out of Private Life. We all know, Billy Wilder said that he wanted Holmes to be a closeted homosexual who was unable to admit it, maybe even to himself, and that was the reason he took dope. Even in the final censored version of the film, it’s pretty obvious. Moffat and Gatiss were coy about what their intended approach to Holmes’ opium use was going to be in their modern setting, to the point of saying it was simply not an avenue they were going down with the character, despite heavily implying past drug use in ASiP and ASiB. This was yet another flagrant lie, and by the time HLV rolled around Sherlock was back on narcotics. His substance abuse carries the same meaning that it has/was intended to have in Private Life, but has been implemented far more creatively. You are meant to understand the talk of Sherlock’s “cravings” as being textually about his sexual cravings.

It’s also important to keep in mind the fact that they clearly distinguished between this thread and the thread wrt Food, which absolutely does encompass sexuality but is fundamentally about intimacy and sharing. It is positive, and it is always framed that way. Sherlock’s “drug problem” is framed VERY negatively. It is a negative expression of the sublimation of his sexuality.

Anyway. Food is a bit of a non-issue in this episode, the focus in this go-around is squarely on drugs and tea/coffee.

The final thing of import: Irene Adler is a mirror for Sherlock’s sexuality.

In the prologue, we see Henry (Sherlock), running over the moor, amid flashbacks of the Hound killing his father. He’s lost, distressed, confused. He comes face to face with a lady and a hound as he runs; he’s benevolent, curious, friendly. But Henry is traumatised, and with the Hound’s snarl roaring in his ears, he screams in terror when the doggie leans in for a sniffle. :(

The Morning After

Like Mark’s first episode, Hounds opens with a bang. This time as Sherlock slams 221B’s door. Like a gunshot. The camera swoops over to some little hound’s in the window of Speedy’s, heads bobbing as if to show us what’s in pursuit of him. Thematic. Nice tone setting mates.

Inside, Sherlock barges onto the scene, tense, covered in blood, gripping a huge phallic harpoon. Next thing we know, he’s cleared the blood off himself and his giant cock harpoon and is dramatically keening for a case because he NEEDS a distraction. This is the most oddly agitated and manic we ever see Sherlock, and it is not without reason, as it might initially appear. The events in the 12 months over which A Scandal in Belgravia takes place were thus,

he falls in love, bad. like ass over tit bad.

he comes to believe his feelings are, and always will be, unrequited and his hopes (however forlorn) are crushed (Battersea)

and all his WORST fears about love are consequently reasserted (Irene takes advantage of him and fucks him over, and he in turn exerts his own worst self and ruins her life out of spite. MESSY.)

So, he’s not really doing well. This episode, which takes place in the days immediately following the end of Scandal, is largely the fallout of those events. “I always assumed [falling in] love is a dangerous disadvantage. Thank you for the final proof.” Might as well be called The Hounds of Love.

So anyway, he’s practically vibrating and levitating with the force of all that maddening, doomed sexual energy he’s had pent up for over a year. He paces as John looks through the papers, scowling in disgust when John points out the photograph of him in the hat that Irene had caressed. Sherlock then screams, and slams his harpoon down before abruptly turning to John and demanding John give him some. I mean get him some. Same thing, really. Either way he NEEDS SOME and he wants John to GIVE IT TO HIM. :/

Like jhbkjlkm, could they have framed this demand anymore suggestively lmao. No. John flawlessly deadpans him and Sherlock makes a petulant face and turns away. Apparently Sherlock has tried to force himself to ditch his “habit” cold turkey (what an idiot…) and paid everyone off so he can’t “get any” for miles. Boy realises this was idiocy and hollers for Mrs. Hudson. He then begins frantically tearing the place apart looking for any stray cigarette he can suck on, BEGGING John to tell him where they are;

“Tell me where they are. Please! Tell me! Please.”

Just sayin…he begged...twice.

Mrs Hudson pops in as Sherlock throws himself across the room in search of his Secret Supply, now begging her to tell him where he keeps them. Hudders provides the tea dear, she can’t help you in this area Sherl you’ve called on the wrong mirror my boy. Hudders has no idea what he’s on about and he has another dramatic huff and grabs his harpoon again. Hudders offers to make some tea, and maybe a nice warm cuppa could calm him down enough to settle his (ahem) harpoon but-

“Seven percent stronger…” *[1]

Yeah, tea ain’t gonna take the edge off these cravings mates, he needs the GOOD STUFF.

He rounds on Hudders, brandishing his big harpoon at her (lasjflsd), and segues into a frankly hilarious and exceptionally frustrated deduction about her romantic exploits first thing on this Monday morning. He’s like, “even Hudders is out there taking names, while I am mouldering inside this perpetual hellprison two feet away from the untouchable object of my desires!!!” Also...where, exactly, do the scratch cards lead? i’m dying to know.

He inevitably goes on to point out that her beau is a worthless womaniser so she’d better not pin any real hopes on him, calling back the deductions he makes at Christmas in Scandal about Molly’s love life, which were also embarrassing projections of his own insecurity and heartbreak about the situation with John, and his bitterness and resentment toward John for his slovenly dating practices.

Yes. So in Scandal, Greg’s and Sherlock’s SO’s are sleeping with a teacher at Christmas and it is decidedly not all sorted, and Mrs Hudson (Sherlock) is in a relationship with a womaniser who’s just keeping her on the side of his main gig(s). Uncanny.

Anyway, he successfully upsets Hudders with the jab about her lover because misery loves company, and jumps into his chair, folding in on himself in agitation. John instructs him to apologise to Mrs. Hudson and Sherlock looks positively affronted. He says he envies John for his mind, for being so “placid, straightforward, barely used.” He says it flippantly, as always couching it in insult, to mask the truth in the sentiment. Because his is out of control. He’s tearing himself to pieces. His desires are trapped on the launchpad, tearing him to pieces. :/

He screams, again, that he needs a case, and John screams back that he’s just solved one by “Harpooning a dead pig, apparently.” “Apparently” indeed. This phrase is a play on the idiom “Flogging a dead horse.” As is Sherlock’s propensity for flogging corpses. They twice imply (in ASIP and TAB) that the ‘medical’ reasons Sherlock provides for doing such things are a pretext; “So, bad day was it?” And apparently he’s escalated from flogging corpses, to impaling them. :/ And I feel like this is also very much about Scandal, because:

Listen, it’s not a coincidence that the first is the closing sentiment of Scandal and the second the OPENING sentiment of Hounds, taking place the literal following day. A Scandal in Belgravia = Flogging a dead horse. The Woman (i.e., Love). Tedium. The outcome (rejection, heartbreak, misunderstanding) was always decided. Inevitable. He’s rejecting all of it.

Poor John just...perseveres through this behaviour as Sherlock flails and wriggles around in his chair petulantly. “Nothing on the website?” Sherlock huffs.

Nothing but…Bluebell. A locked room mystery! A rabbit that vanished from inside his locked hutch after he turned luminous, like a fairy! According to little Kirsty.

IMPORTANT!!: This is all about Sherlock. All this talk about Bluebell the luminious bunny is about Sherlock. Sherlock is a Bluebell. And there are some nice info’s about Bluebells:

“Bluebells have long been symbolic of humility and gratitude. They are associated with constancy, gratitude and everlasting love. Bluebells are also closely linked to the realm of fairies and are sometimes referred to as fairy thimbles.”

“Bluebells are widely known as harebells in Scotland.”

“Another name for bluebells is Dead Man's bells. This is due to the fact that fairies were believed to cast spells on those who dare to pick or damage the beautiful, delicate flowers.” [x]

“Even if it’s not forbidden to pick bluebells, you might not want to do that on account of the superstition of bad luck. Picking bluebells and bringing them to your home means inviting bad luck to enter into your life because based on many folklore, the fairies had cast a spell that will bring bad luck to anyone who dare to destroy (or pick) this majestic-looking flower.” [x]

^ Fitting for John, wouldn’t you say.

The Bluebell is symbolic of loyalty, gratitude and everlasting love, but is surrounded with superstitions of ill fate and death due to their reverent and supernatural associations. A lot like the Hound. And you will see, the Hound and the Bunny are equated once we enter Baskerville.

“What am I saying this is brilliant. Phone Lestrade. Tell him there’s an escaped rabbit!”

A genetic experiment. Out roaming the moors. Luminous. Red eyes. Not very dangerous though.

They argue about Cluedo for a moment and then at last, the doorbell rings. Client! And a wild Henry appears.

They sit watching Henry’s documentary about Baskerville. Sherlock’s eyes flick from Henry to the TV as the presenter tells us about the superstitions that surround Baskerville. Sherlock is skeptical of Henry’s fears and their interview starts out brusquely. He interrupts Henry’s reminisces, instructing him to skip ahead to the part where his dad was ‘violently killed’. John reacts to this glib remark in a way that could be suggestive, since there are hints that John’s father is also dead, and even if still living, is certainly lost to him in the way the following subtext suggests. Or perhaps it’s just a reaction to Sherlock’s general assholery. Or both.

Henry recounts his memory of his father’s death; he’s mauled on the forest floor as Henry watches on, terrified. Henry shakes as he remembers it and we then cut to…Sherlock. Also trembling, just slightly. Imagining.

“It got him…tore at him, tore him apart…”

This brings me to the meaning of the Hound in this episode, and by extension Henry. This is the heart of this episode. The Hound is a monstrous distortion of an ordinary dog that is literally created using “fear and stimulus”. The Hound is a representation of the fear and hatred that transforms a natural, ordinary (dog) love/sexuality into something unnatural, violent and predatory. Homophobia. This is part of what turns Sherlock’s love, his capacity to love and ability to be loved, into something twisted that he is frightened of and deeply cut off from. And the nature of this memory (and now The Final Problem) makes it clear that this damage began very early in his life. So even though Sherlock is outwardly skeptical of this whole Hound business, and he clearly maintains rationally that it’s all complete nonsense, treats it (defensively) like a joke and refuses to believe it even after “seeing” it, he is still very vulnerable to the effects of said “stimulus”. Henry, as a mirror for Sherlock, represents the part of him that has been terrorised and haunted by the Hound since his childhood. The way Sherlock treats Henry is indicative of how he treats this problem in himself.

Henry (Sherlock) imagines the Hound literally tearing his father apart, and losing him forever.

Sherlock acts glibly toward Henry, who is offended by his blasé attitude about such a serious matter and we get this exchange before Henry gets up to leave.

HENRY: “Are you laughing at me, Mr. Holmes?” SHERLOCK: “Why, are you joking?”

It’s interesting, because this is the start of a particular thread about the Hound in this episode and we now have some pretty strong parallels to this thread in The Lying Detective.

People laughed at them. Delusional, paranoid, exploited, taken for a ride, played for an ad campaign, can’t tell what’s real anymore.

They are the same, after all.

But as Henry is about to leave, Sherlock stops him with his deductions, and persuades him back to his chair. So, deducing Henry (….Sherlock).

SHERLOCK: You came up from Devon on the first available train this morning. You had a disappointing breakfast and a cup of black coffee. The girl in the seat across the aisle fancied you. Although you were initially keen, you’ve now changed your mind. You are, however, extremely anxious to have your first cigarette of the day. Sit down, Mr Knight, and do please smoke. I’d be delighted.

Sherlock says he’d be delighted if Henry would smoke for him, which is hysterical to me because honestly, if Sherlock’s cravings were actually about cigarettes (ie, if this show was normal) this’d be the part where Sherlock bummed a smoke for himself. But it isn’t (about cigarettes) and it’s not (normal). So instead, once his feverish deduction is over with, we get Sherlock practically trembling on the edge of his seat as he watches Henry light up, then launch himself off his chair into Henry’s face to suck in the smoke that’s just come out of Henry’s body. :/

“Punched-out holes where your ticket’s been checked […]” SHERLOCK: The train napkin that you used to mop up the spilled coffee: the strength of the stain shows that you didn’t take milk. There are traces of ketchup on it and round your lips and on your sleeve. Cooked breakfast – or the nearest thing those trains can manage. Probably a sandwich. HENRY: How did you know it was disappointing? SHERLOCK: Is there any other type of breakfast on a train? The girl – female handwriting’s quite distinctive [Sure Jan]. Wrote her phone number down on the napkin. I can tell from the angle she wrote at that she was sat across from you on the other side of the aisle. Later – after she got off, I imagine – you used the napkin to mop up your spilled coffee, accidentally smudging the numbers. You’ve been over the last four digits yourself with another pen, so you wanted to keep the number. Just now, though, you used the napkin to blow your nose. Maybe you’re not that into her after all. Then there’s the nicotine stains on your fingers ... your shaking fingers. I know the signs. No chance to smoke one on the train; no time to roll one before you got a cab here. It’s just after nine fifteen. You’re desperate. The first train from Exeter to London leaves at five forty-six a.m. You got the first one possible, so something important must have happened last night. Am I wrong? HENRY: No.

So Henry (Sherlock) arrives at Baker Street that morning, distressed because of ‘what happened last night’ with remnants of his ‘’disappointing breakfast” on his face and clothing

desperate for a cigarette.

No chance to smoke one stuck on the train, on which he met a woman whom he was initially interested in but ultimately indifferent to, had a ‘disappointing breakfast’ and spilled his ‘coffee’. Which he also takes black. Because he’s Sherlock. The coffee & the girl is yet another moment associating women with coffee along with the conclusion he (Sherlock) is indifferent to it/them. The detailed observations about Henry’s (Sherlock’s) smoking habit and ‘cravings’ and a few rather…erotic shots of Henry’s mouth and fingers…in Sherlock’s mind’s eye…

Doe eyes and pouty mouth ehhh...Alla this is…homoerotic. :/

I’ve always been in two minds about this deduction. This deduction is either about Irene, or about something that Sherlock actually….did the night before, when he was apparently out “impaling dead pigs”. I’ve always been inclined to read this deduction as being about Irene & the events of Scandal, which are what caused the Hound to rear it’s ugly head again and compelled him to return to the ‘scene of the crime’ after a very, very long time. It’s also the exact kind of underhanded nonsense Mark loves, he literally can’t even wait for 5 minutes to subtextually disavow any straight reading of Scandal lol.

Anyway, John then asks Henry if this story could be a product of the trauma of losing his parents as a child and we learn that Henry has a therapist, Doctor Louise Mortimer (John), who is the reason all of this is happening. Henry (Sherlock) is trying to confront all of this because of Lousie (John). “She’s the reason I came back. She says I have to face my demons.”

So Sherlock asks Henry what it was he saw when he returned to Dewer’s Hollow, what was it that changed everything? Just footprints. Footprints on the exact spot he saw his father torn apart. Sherlock is truly annoyed at Henry for this, dismissing these fears immediately and quipping “Sorry, Doctor Mortimer wins, childhood trauma masked by an invented memory. Boring!” ....... . .. .. .. . . .. .. . . . .If only we could have known…if only we could have known the extent of this bullshit…that this is literally The Final Problem…in which Sherlock is facing his Final Demon s for John…because of John so he can save John…and it’s all framed as. A childhood trauma that’s masked by an invented memory of a dog…

I’m sorry but they’re so stupid and awful I’m gonna die.

Anyway, Sherlock bids Henry goodbye, reassuring him it was probably just paw prints which could be “anything therefore nothing”, not a monster, not a danger, just the fancy of Henry’s troubled mind. “Off to Devon with you, have a cream tea on me.” (Mark 😩) And on that note, he makes a beeline for his bedroom no doubt intending to rub one out immediately but then-

HENRY: Mr. Holmes, they were the footprints of a gigantic Hound!

Sherlock stops in his tracks. He makes Henry repeat his words, loading them with great significance, and with that cryptic bitch look on his face, he's just like “I’ll take the case.” Sherlock later reveals that he takes the case specifically because Henry called ‘it’ a Hound:

SHERLOCK: Why do you call it a Hound? Why a Hound? HENRY: Why – what do you mean? SHERLOCK: It’s odd, isn’t it? Strange choice of words – archaic. It’s why I took the case. “Mr Holmes, they were the footprints of a gigantic Hound.” Why say “Hound”?

Strange thing to call a dog these days. Archaic. Bygone. Anachronistic. So with that he decides, it’s time to lay this particular ghost.

But not before being a cock about it. Poor John is baffled by this sudden development, not least as Sherlock suddenly puts on airs that he’s “far too busy” to leave London at the moment because he has to solve the case of…Bluebell a,sdjf. John looks hurt as Sherlock taunts him and acts like he’s gonna send John off to deal with Henry and this Hound bullshit on his own, as though JOHN is the one for whom the Hound is a problem, while he sits on his arse at home sulking and obsessing over Bluebell the bunny rabbit instead of dealing with ANY of his problems himself. COCK.

John just looks knowingly at Henry, and then taunts Sherlock right back, tossing him cigarettes he had hidden inside Billy the whole time. Sherlock won’t even look at them now and just flings them over his shoulder, “I don’t need those anymore, I’m going to Dartmoor.” And out he flounces. We now have a Superior Distraction. 😩

[1] Just wanted to note; this situation has progressed to the point of being fully reversed in The Lying Detective. In Hounds, he’s still abstaining from ‘drugs’ but his ‘cravings’ have overwhelmed his desire for ‘tea’, and so he begs for a fix, be it cigarettes or a case. By the time TLD rolls around, he’s fully given in to his ‘addiction’. He’s using ‘drugs’ heavily, but now he’s desperate for a cup of tea. He stops taking clients and initially blows off Faith’s bizarre case claiming it’s “too weird” for him, and ends up taking the case basically because he...Bonds with her.

tagging a few people that might be interested, i guess @sarahthecoat, @impossibleleaf, @obsessivelollipoplalala, @221bloodnun, @gosherlocked, @devoursjohnlock, @mrskolesouniverse, @smoljohnlock, @northstargrassmaiden etc :)

#tjlc #johnlock #sherlock #sherlock meta #me in january; i'm gonna do a write-up of baskerville lmao #my meta

22 notes · View notes