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bosbas · 5 months ago

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Hi I just read you’re Colin and Benedict series and I just wanted to say how much I loved them both. I can’t wait to see what you write next. We need another chapter about Benedict and y/n children. Again: absolutely adore you’re writing 🌻🌼

Thank you so much my love!! And you are absolutely correct, I did need more of Benedict and y/n. here's a very quick lil drabble! I hope you enjoy <3 Also, they're using non-toxic paint which I am pretty sure is historically accurate lol.

I find myself running home to your sweet nothings

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pairing: benedict bridgerton x best friend!fem!reader WC: 1.6k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, alluding to sex, benedict and y/n having kids, benedict and y/n being very in love

March 14, 1824 – Y/I,

I apologize for not being there as you wake, but I have undertaken a special project with our children. We are not to be disturbed at all today if you can help it.

I asked Anthony to procure you the book you were so intent on finding, and he has, as is typical, been able to find it with relative ease. The book should be waiting for you downstairs at the breakfast table.

Yours,

You giggled, giddy as you read your husband’s note. Benedict had been away visiting with a French artist for a few weeks, and you had been left to take care of the children on your own (with the help of their governess, of course). And while you did love them dearly, caring for three small children left you little time to yourself.

After Ben had come home the previous night, he had promised you a surprise in the morning, and a day to yourself was truly one of the best things he could give you.

Sighing contentedly, you descended the stairs so you could begin reading in the gardens as soon as possible. As you passed Benedict's studio, you heard quite a commotion going on inside but decided against investigating. You had an entire day to yourself, after all. Might as well enjoy it.

---

After several hours of reading and only a few breaks in between, you decided that, no matter how much the quiet solitude was relaxing, you had simply missed your best friend too much to stay away.

Knocking firmly on the studio door so that you could be heard above the noise, you eagerly awaited any indication of what your children had been doing with their father all morning and a better part of the afternoon.

"Just a second!" called Benedict, and you heard bouts of giggling and rummaging.

"How long is a second?" you asked after a few moments.

Opening the door wide, Benedict smiled as he lay eyes on you. Sneaking a quick kiss on your lips and grabbing your waist as he led you into his studio, he said jokingly, "Impatient as ever, I see."

"Only for you," you smiled sweetly, pecking him on the cheek.

Leaning down to whisper in your ear, Ben responded, "Oh, after last night, I'm quite certain I knew that already."

You gasped, scandalized, and hit Benedict on the arm.

"Ben!" you chastised lowly, not amused in the slightest. "The children are here."

He only laughed at you.

"The children are quite busy, actually," he pointed out, nodding over to where your two daughters were helping their youngest brother smear paint on a canvas.

"Is that what you've been doing all day?"

Benedict nodded proudly, scooping up your oldest into his arms while your other daughter remained focused on directing your youngest.

"Do you want to tell Mama what you've done, Poppy?" he prompted.

"Papa says it's a masterpiece," she said smugly, pointing over Benedict's shoulder to a canvas that had what looked to be a big house surrounded by flowers. "It's our cottage!"

You gasped in delight, looking at all the different flowers she painted. "That certainly looks like our garden, doesn't it? And I do believe that is a poppy, just like your name" you commented, giving her a kiss on the top of her head.

"And what have the rest of you done?" you asked your remaining children, who by now had collectively given up on Cedric's painting.

"Cedric, of course, has created a more... abstract piece," said Benedict, looking thoughtful as he assessed the mess of colors in front of your son.

Being only two years old, he certainly did not have any sort of artistic direction in terms of painting, but it seemed like he had a wonderful time nonetheless.

You laughed at Ben's commentary but ultimately agreed that your son's artwork was wonderful.

"Mine is the best," said your other daughter, Lily. "Look, Mama! Doesn't it look just like you?"

Holding up what could only be described as a giant jumble of lines and two barely discernible circles that could be construed as yes, Lily looked as proud as ever.

You choked back a laugh, making eye contact with Benedict. "Is that me?" you asked your daughter, who was still positively beaming as she held up her painting.

"Yes! Papa has so many paintings of you in here I thought I might try to do one of my own. And look, I even drew a flower here," she said, pointing to an area you supposed was your hand.

"Oh, I look lovely, don't I?" you commented, rather touched that your daughter had taken the time to paint you, no matter how unrecognizable you looked. "Thank you, darling," you said, placing a kiss atop her head, too.

"It's got lots of potential," said Benedict thoughtfully. "Just some shading here and there, and it'll be good enough to go in the National Gallery."

You smiled sweetly at his mock seriousness, thoroughly enjoying seeing him in his element with your young children. You supposed that was what marriage was all about. Seeing bits and pieces of your husband in your children. And you couldn't be more thankful it had been Benedict that you ended up with.

"Thank you," you whispered to him after he let Poppy go help Lily add some color to her painting.

"I love you," he whispered in return, holding your hand gently and interlacing your fingers.

---

Later that night, as you were applying all of the creams your lady's maid had insisted you apply before bed, you turned to look at Ben, who was already half asleep.

"Are you coming to bed soon or am I going to have to carry you here myself," he grumbled.

You laughed softly, shaking your head. "Who's impatient now?" you teased.

"I swear I will do it," Ben answered sitting up and crossing his arms as he blinked the sleepiness away.

You finished up and went over to his side of the bed, putting your arms around his neck as he placed his around your waist. You squealed as he used his hold to drag you into bed so you were lying down next to him, and he proceeded to run his fingers over your lips as he stared at you.

"I barely slept while I was away. It just wasn't quite the same when I didn't have you in my arms. And besides, I had no one to talk to after every day of looking at wonderful art," Ben said softly, smiling as he looked you up and down. "I missed your face. It's quite a breathtaking one if I do say so myself."

"You might be a bit biased," you teased.

Then, after a beat, "I love you, you know," you said, kissing him softly. "Did the children tire you out today?"

Benedict shook his head, "They're quite remarkable. I do think Poppy will be your clone soon enough. She's far too clever for her own good."

Then, smiling mischievously, Ben said lowly, "And especially now that you're in bed with me I suddenly find myself with bounds of energy."

"I'm sure you do," you responded cheekily, fluttering your eyes shut as he leaned down to kiss you.

As his lips moved against yours, you felt the same butterflies you had felt years earlier. It seemed they had made a permanent home in your stomach, and they only came to light when Ben did something like this. Three weeks away had been far too many, and you had found yourself missing his sturdy presence in your life. He was as much a part of who you were as you were yourself, and it was simply a gift to be able to live with your best friend since childhood.

"Did you miss me in France?" you said, pausing your kiss.

You already knew the answer, but it was nice to hear him say it anyway. His letters to you while he had been away were simply not enough now that you knew what it was like to have him stroke your hair as you fell asleep or kiss your forehead in the mornings. Even as a child, you couldn't have imagined a marriage as wonderful as this one.

"I almost went mad," he said, breathing heavily and nudging your legs open with his knee. "You are my very best friend, you know?"

"And you are mine."

"I do not even know how I managed to breathe when you were so far away," he said sincerely, kissing your neck.

You gasped in delight, tugging on his hair.

"It was quite lovely to get a bit of a break from you, actually," you teased.

This was, of course, a lie. You rather enjoyed having Benedict near you every night, talking for hours, and taking long walks on your grounds. But he didn't have to know that at this moment. You had certainly missed him, but he had to work to make up his absence.

"Oh, was it?" Ben taunted, looking down at you with half-open eyes. "I think I can change your mind on that particular matter."

You were positively giddy in anticipation of what was to come. "I'd love to see you try," you challenged.

"I'm certain you would," responded Benedict, a hand creeping up your leg as he bent down to kiss you once more.

—

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idyllic-affections · 11 months ago

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a letter from aphelion. ♡

a letter to all the people who have made my year in one way or another. there is no particular order to this post, and some of you may find that i don't have much to say, but all of you who are on this post are here because i can recall times i've enjoyed speaking to you or seeing you in my notifs or just existing within the same space as you. i hope you all have only the best year possible next year—it seems like most of us need and deserve a good year, hm? though i regard myself as quite a gentle and sentimental soul, i struggle with putting it into words. it's ironic, considering i am a writer. i mention this because even if the things i say in this post are quite silly and lighthearted, just know that i earnestly mean what i say and each and every one of you has contributed to my year in a memorable way <3 may we all have a good 2024.

dear @lillonvia,

YOU!!!! YOU!!!!! HELLO. HI. MEETING YOU HAS BEEN SUCH AN HONOR AND SUCH A DELIGHTFUL PART OF MY YEAR!!! i love the little silly conversations we often have—i think it's probably a good thing that we share so many random fandoms. it's as if we lived somewhat similar lives growing up despite growing up in such vastly different environments <3 but anyway, i think the fandoms we share are really helpful in being able to have such fun conversations!! we have many things to talk about!!! despite the vast difference in timezones!!!! please go to sleep at normal hours!!!!!!! /lh

dear @starryshinyskies,

HI AVERY <3 i was literally always so delighted to see you in my inbox back when you were still ⭐️ anon, and i still feel that kind of joy now! you have so many good and fun thoughts to share with me about things i've written and i love that... i hope moral injury ch. 2 will give you that same kind of brainrot again when it does finally come out!!!! if it doesn't that's okay too HAHA but i always love hearing your thoughts on... literally anything ever!! i have some fics of yours that i've been meaning to reblog btw, so maybe watch out for multiple essays in your notifications in the coming weeks LMAO

dear @aroacenezha,

MAJI I AM SQUISHING YOU LOVINGLY IN MY HANDS or i can just look at you fondly if you don't want to be squished. i am okay with that too <3 i often think about how we met and i think it's both kind of funny and kind of nice. "baizhu would hate dottore" agreed so real so true that post was so correct in so many ways RAAHHH 🤝 the nice part of the way we met being my baizhu series. despite me having NOT updated it any time recently, has brought a lot of people into my inbox and sometimes into my life and i think it's very cool. i love when people feel seen. and furthermore please always send me your oc thoughts and your blorbo thoughts i love them so much 🙏🙏🙏

dear @soleillunne,

ALYYY MY LOVE MY BELOVED you are so precious and treasured.... i love what you do, i think your writing is beautiful and has such a poetic quality to it. and i love when you appear in my inbox and notifs!!!! though tumblr is very mean to you and always eats your asks.... you are important to me and so many other people and i hope you always know that. genuinely. you are such a kind and wonderful person and you are always loved.

dear @heiayen,

YOU. *GRABS YOU* *EVILLY* you. you are so. idk but YOU ARE. can't think of a good word. no words, only vibes. you are vibe-y. /lh you're another moot that has the most top tier responses to things, even non-fanfic posts. you just have Things To Say, and in the best way possible. your thoughts are so fun..... i interact with you rather often—more than some people realize, perhaps—and you are a dearly beloved presence in my life 🫶🫶

dear @zeldadou,

though we haven't talked too much recently, i still think of you often! i love seeing your art and the way it changes and develops... and i love hearimg your thoughts about things or when you send me fun things you think i would like <33 you are a very kind person in my eyes, whether you realize it or not.

dear @june-again,

i hope life treats you well, always. you don't deserve anything less. i think of you fondly! your kindness is and was very remarkable and treasured especially when i was first adjusting to tumblr and posting my fics and whatnot..... by the time we met, i was still very new, so i appreciated any kind interactions (i still do of course! it's just a bit different when you're new to a website like this haha)!!

dear @kaixserzz,

I FUCK WITH YOUR THOUGHTS DUDE YOU SEEM TO COME INTO MY INBOX AT THE MOST RANDOM AND UNEXPECTED OF TIMES AND DROP THE MOST HEARTBREAKING ANGST POSSIBLE??????? HELLO?????????? ARE YOU. DOING OKAY??!???!!!! YOU WAKE UP AND CHOOSE VIOLENCE. ESPECIALLY WITH KAVEH. WTF (me too tbh 😇) /lh please always send me any platonic thoughts you have i will entertain all of them fr 💥💥💥 you have such good thoughts in that brain of yours 💥💥💥💥💥💥💥

dear @archonsbane,

i haven't spoken to you much, so forgive me if this seems or comes off as a sudden or jarring tag, but i do enjoy talking to you. fatui moot <3 you GET IT get it about the harbingers' dynamics. i hope we have more opportunities to speak sometime! (and if that sentiment isn't shared, that is totally fine. i would respect it either way 🫶)

dear @lesanyanyas,

we only became mutuals recently, but i hope you know that i always thought of you as one of the "blorbo from my notes" kinds of people haha!!! i always saw and recognized you whenever you were in my notifications or my inbox and you always have such delightful and fun things to say <33

dear @umgatochamadopercyval,

CLARA HIII you are such a remarkable person, you know? you've been nothing but kind and understanding, and you have such fun thoughts and ideas!! i love hearing about them sm. even if my responses are delayed, just know that you are always welcome to ramble in my dms about your ocs or your fic ideas and i will never find it to be annoying or anything. it isn't annoying. it never is.

sincerely, aphelion.

there are people who did not make this list, and to those people, i hope we can become closer in 2024! if you aren't on here, it's truly only because i've hardly spoken to you. so... perhaps that is something we can do next year! i think of all my mutuals very fondly. i don't think of any of you as "less than" just because we haven't spoken mwah mwah <3

#aphelion speaks 🌸

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thisstableground · 2 years ago

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can you talk a little bit about Cross Your Fingers and the decision to continue it into Not An Anchor I am thinking about it 24/7

lets go lets go! this will get SO SO LONG don't feel obliged to read it all

cross your fingers was pretty much always going to happen as soon as i decided to write encanto fic at all. the part of stories i always find most interesting is the aftermath, the bits that aren’t actually written.

there is a feeling i have experienced several times in my life: it is of waking up the day after something big, whether it was good or bad, and realising that your life is divided into a point before that and a point after that happened. you wake up in your brand new apartment. you wake up after they let you out of the hospital. you wake up after your life is ruined. you wake up after you hand in your thesis. it’s this fragile, shellshocked thing, where you have to start constructing the next stage of your life and you’ve no idea where to start, and one of the most distinctly memorable feelings i can recall.

anyway. i find myself going towards that kind of moment a lot in my writing. we wrapped it all up neatly, but life goes on after the credits. love an aftermath, love a rebuild. so that’s what cross your fingers was going to be, just scratching the itch that the rebuild montage at the end of Encanto gave me and expanding it out. giving some extra emotional resolution that i felt they all desperately needed. giving them those weeks of fragile, hurt, hopeful first days after something terrible happened, after something incredible happened.

(and also because i had that scene where bruno tells them he was living in the walls pretty much before any of the rest of the fic and it was too good to waste so i needed a story to put it in)

i actually didnt plan to add to it with not an anchor, initially. the people who are hanging out here just for encanto might not know, but ive spent. oh Several years now writing an obscure crossover fic series that is basically just a very long deep-dive into mental health recovery after an intense trauma, and i love it so, so dearly. so like, much as i instantly latched onto bruno as another sad tired little man for the collection, i didn’t want to just retell the same story i’ve already been telling in 90verse

so how'd i end up doing the sequel? well. writing cross your fingers gave me a chance to get to grips with one of the things that is delightful and unique about mirabel in the family: it’s that she sees people so completely. it’s something that she has to learn to do, mind, and we see that development through the movie. a practiced skill, not a natural talent. it takes her time to see isabela as she really is, to see what’s really going on with luisa, it takes time to find bruno and to understand alma. but that’s what mirabel’s about: not about being given the ability to do something immediately, but about having the tenacity and the love and the empathy to work at it.

i interpreted the cinematography of dos oroguitas, where mirabel is stnading right beside younger alma and pedro, watching everything, reacting as though she’s right there, as meant to be indicative of that level of empathy. its no small thing for any teenager (truly, even for a lot of adults) to be able to look at the older people in your family and truly recognise the depths of the life they had before you were born. you see them as always having been old, as always having been in authority, you don't always want to try and look past whatever front they put on, especially if they can be cold or distant, or if they have caused you pain. but mirabel can really, genuinely see the young, devastated, frightened woman that alma used to be, the happy, hopeful, vibrant person she was before that. and i think it’s those long-gone versions of younger alma as much as her own abuela that mirabel is holding her hands out to at the end. she treats her, even the versions of her that no longer exist, with such compassion

and i call back to that in cross your fingers: mirabel hears bruno tell her about the first time he ever had a vision of someone’s death, age six, and she will imagine that little boy as though he were right there with her, and she will be angry for him and sad for him just as much as she would for antonio, even though the little boy she's picturing is long gone, and is just her weird old wall uncle now. she sees them all as full people, when previously they’ve all become so defined and restricted by being the One Thing they’re magic about

and that, in turn, made me want to get into the very interesting contrast that comes up often in not an anchor. because ostensibly, it’s about bruno’s recovery process. but especially while it’s still in its early stages (and i do intend to come back and finish it, now that i’m back on my good adhd meds), you can see that in most places when the other characters try to engage with bruno as he starts trying to recover, we learn a lot more about that character than about bruno himself. the specific things they notice or the way they interpret his actions will always betray their own current fears or insecurities or preoccupations first and foremost. in that way, it isn’t really a story about bruno’s trauma, it’s about the collective trauma of the whole family, and the individual traumas that they all have- but he is what reflects that back to them

that’s what bruno’s role has always been. he is an uncomfortable truth that nobody wants to face. the thing that you can pretend won’t affect you as long as you don’t acknowledge its existence. the problem that, once someone picks it up and brings it into the light, the Everything’s Fine act you've been putting on becomes less and less convincing. that’s bruno, and that’s all the individual hurts and traumas that each member of the family has coming up to the surface in the aftermath of the movie. they love him, they're worried about him, they want him to be okay, but in a lot of ways, they are still struggling to see him past their own projections. they haven’t learned to see the way that mirabel has learned to see.

anyway. don't know if that makes sense, but it’s something that i find interesting to play with, as a tool for multiple character explorations at once. this is a scene that i think would be realistic to bruno’s recovery, but what POV is best for it? do we want bruno’s POV himself, will it be most narratively or emotionally impactful to know what he is actually thinking? or is it a scene that could in fact tell us more about julieta, or pepa, or alma? if i want it to be the beginning of something healing, which character would be most likely to instigate that? if i want it to be something that gets glossed over and repressed for now, which character would make that most likely to happen? if i want a fight, who will turn this into a fight?

aside from that, it’s the perfect kind of fic for emotional whiplash. as i said in response to the other directors commentary ask i got, i think that’s probably one of my most defining authorial traits - i hope in a way that still ultimately feels safe and comforting, because all my fics will always have the end goal of healing, but oh do i love to throw a reader a sudden change in tone. a fic exploring this sort of aftermath and this sort of healing in a family is so good for that. a scene can be so domestic and mundane and warm and turn suddenly into a realisation that something is terribly wrong. a conversation can start out so heavy and dark and turn ridiculous and comedic. a moment between reunited siblings can be so full of love and a lifetime of familiarity one second and so full of hurt and anger and awkwardness the next. that’s what trauma is like to live with. that's what life is like in general.

and also, as it turns out, there are so many fresh and interesting ways to write a sad tired little man recovering, so i didn’t have to worry about self-plagiarism anyway.

#thank u for the ask i love to write essays about my own fic #fandom: encanto

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culttvblog · 1 day ago

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Ann Way Season: Introduction and Mind Your Language - Don't Forget the Driver

I so enjoyed doing a 'season' of posts focusing on the work of actor Denis Shaw that I've decided to do another similar series of posts focusing on another actor, this time Ann Way (1915 - 1993). Surely everyone recognises her by her characteristic appearance and usually being cast in the role of dotty old lady. Unfortunately biographical details are vanishingly few online for her; to the extent that I haven't even been able to find an obituary for her. However she acted more or less consistently until the very last year of her life. I am delighted to see from IMDb that her first role was as a sixth former in The Belles of St Trinians, 1954!

When I did the posts on Denis Shaw I found that doing that exposed me to shows that I wouldn't otherwise have thought to watch, which was interesting. Ann Way's opus isn't different and already I have episodes of a couple of shows that I haven't seen saved up ready to blog about.

I also have the same regret that I had with Shaw's work which is that Way's early work coincided with the heyday of wiping TV shows in Britain so much of it is unavailable. For example she had a role in several episodes of Emergency Ward 10 which may or may not exist but are not online. She also had a role in one episode of a show which I have only recently discovered existed, Harpers West One, which was a show set in a department store in London, and which is definitely completely wiped. It was also broadcast in 1962 so it's not likely that someone has an episode on a video in their attic. Another show she acted in that i would dearly love to see which is missing believed wiped is King of the River, 1966-7, about a family barge business.

There is a further problem that some of her work is commercially available but is so expensive that I'm not in a position to buy it for one episode. For example Way acted in an episode of Dr Finlay's Casebook where Dr Cameron comes across a solitary piper who believes himself to be amongst a full battalion, which I would give my back teeth to see. However I won't part with the money to buy two fulls series of the show which would be necessary to see one episode!

The final problem with Way's work is that some of it is in shows which I wouldn't consider cult. I have rather avoided giving a definition for cult however I work on the assumption in my head that it is what I like. A characteristic of cults is they have a charismatic leader and I am the leader of the cult so this makes perfect sense. Even though Crossroads is a legendary TV series I just don't think it's weird enough to appear here. Similarly Last of the Summer Wine is a series which I just wouldn't call cult.

Mind Your Language: Don't Forget the Driver

The hugely popular series Mind Your Language is in my opinion a show which definitely wouldn't count as cult. Although other people seem to love it so probably would consider it cult. It broadcast across three series in 1977 to 9, with a further series in 1985 or 6. It is essentially a sitcom set in an English learning class in a college of further education, taught by the much-loved actor Barry Evans, who I've actually been considering as a possible for a series of his own.

Don't Forget the Driver is about the class having an outing on a Sunday to a stately home. Or in fact it is more about the organisational vicissitudes ot actually getting there, because by the time they get there the house has actually closed for the day. Way's role is confined to a short appearance as the history teacher in the college, whose job it has been to organise the coaches but for one reason or another, only one has been arranged. She comes across as her normal wonderfully dotty persona.

I wasn't entertained by this episode and in fact didn't laugh once. Out of a less than half hour run the first eight or nine minutes are confined to the students showing how bad they are at English, and there's another bit of that later on when they run out of petrol. It just isn't funny, to my mind. So you may wonder why the show is still appearing here and the answer is in the photograph which illustrates this post. Ann Way is in the centre of the picture. But the two men on the right have brough back a memory of those HUGE tins of beer which you used to be able to get but which I haven't seen for decades. They might not be very good at English but have plugged straight into the great British tradition of getting blind drunk on coach trips.

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#ann way #70s tv #mind your language

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mctherofdragons · 4 years ago

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Against the Tides | 5 | F. W.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

AU: Pirate!AU; Muggle!AU; Historical!AU

Summary: The year is 1710. The Duchess is kidnapped by Captain Fred Weasley, the most notorious and blood thirsty pirate of the age. Aboard his ship, The Midnight Rose, love, lust, and longing collide on the high seas.

Rating: Mature

Warnings: angst, fluff, kidnapping, fred is a pirate for god’s sake don’t come for me, kissing, gets a little steamy but no sex, physical illness (not serious), yelling, fred grabs her arm, crying, angry fred, captivity, alludes to trauma, self harm, i didn’t edit this, again he’s a fucking pirate don’t send me hate thanks.

A/N: Thank you all so much for waiting for me during my little break! I had so much to sort through in my own mind and heart. I am feeling much better and I’m grateful you were all so supportive of me during that time. This chapter is not very long, and serves as more of a ‘filler’ but none the less I hope you all enjoy it. I’m so excited to continue this story <3 I love it so dearly!

I do not consent for my work to be published or translated anywhere without my permission.

Series Masterlist.

Taglist: @oh-for-merlins-sake @minty-malfoy @slytherinlovesgryffindor @futureofanthropology @inglourious-imagines @sinz-and-tragediez @acourtofsnakes @vivianweasley @n3ssm0nique @cruciostyles @whizboingies @shadowsinger11 @whitewineandpizzapuffs @gcdric @the–queen-of-hell @gloryekaterina @hogwartslut @theanxietyqueen17 @vogueweasley @blossomweasley @asthmax @ilovejjmaybank @theweasleytwinsgirl @tyyyweasley @feetoffthetablee @thisismynerdyself @wandsandwheezes @loony-loopy-lupinn @missmercurymoon @willowyreads @l-adysansa @arcadianmoonlight @weasley-x-wheezes @lumosandnoxwriting @darthwheezely please message me to be added/removed from my taglist).

______________________

It had been days now since you shared your first kiss with the captain. It was new to you - the way his lips felt when they brushed yours, sending chills down your spine. The feeling of his kisses caused your heart to flutter in your chest. You had allowed Captain Weasley to steal kisses as much as possible, delighting in the way he would come to you just for a few moments of restless kissing. Captain Weasley found solace in the sweet and pure moments you spent with him. You would giggle when his hands found their way to your hips. Your chastity was something newfound for him. It reminded him of the innocence that had long been taken from him.

Fred had taken quickly to doting on you. The crew took notice as well, pretending not to recognize the way he had been going easier on you. His eyes would soften when he saw you, losing their usual shade of darkness.

“Hello, treasure,” He would greet, pulling you away from the eyes of the crew. He would go in for a soft and longing kiss. Your back was often pressed against the damp walls of the ship. Sometimes, his rough hand would wander up to place a thumb on your cheek with the other fingers behind your ear, pulling the kiss deeper than before. You had allowed Fred to play with the soft fabric atop your breasts, but never much more. He savored those touches regardless, due to the way they’d let his mind wander to what it would be like to make love to you.

_________

The days passed by slowly. Eventually, you stopped questioning the Captain about how far you were from home. In fact, you had begun to wish somewhere deep inside of you that maybe he would never return you. The truth of the matter was that Captain Weasley knew exactly where the ship was. He would have been able to get you home in just a few days’ time. But the thought of saying goodbye to you cut him to the quick, and so, he purposely steered the ship in the opposite direction. He felt only a small amount of guilt for deceiving you. After all, the joy and warmth you brought him was a small sacrifice for a lie.

The Captain had even surprised you with a chest of books when you stopped at another port. He had gestured to the chest absentmindedly as he read a map, only glancing up when he heard you gasp. You had torn through the chest, pulling out all of your favorite books. “Oh Captain! You shouldn’t have. Where did you get these?”

“Some poor bastard left his cart unattended. Anyway, you said you were lonely, and that you missed readin’.”

You dropped a copy of Romeo and Juliet as you ran over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. He dropped his compass, letting you straddle each side of him. You kissed him softly and he leaned back in his seat. Fred moved to plant soft kisses behind your ear, eliciting a soft gasp from you.

“That feels good, eh, Duchess?”

He kissed your sweet spot again, letting the smell of rum fill your senses. You felt an unfamiliar flush rush between your legs and you climbed off him quickly, straightening your dress out with both hands.

“It’s not proper.”

“It isn’t anything to be ashamed of, Duchess.”

“It simply isn’t done, Captain. I’m betrothed.”

“I know.”

He turned away quickly, going back to focusing on what he had been doing before. You looked up at him as you grabbed a book, going to sit comfortably in his hammock. You were chewing your lip, deep into the story, unable to notice the way he looked at you without you noticing.

You turned a page of your book, closing it, before setting it on your lap. You fixed your dress again, cocking your head as you began to spoke. “Why are you being so kind to me, Captain Weasley? Letting me sleep here? Stealing books for me?”

“Pretty to look at,” he said, a small laugh coming from somewhere deep inside of him as he took a swig of rum. His eyes raked over you and you felt your skin flush scarlet, going back to burying your face into the pages of Shakepeare’s Othello.

__________________

You were laying in his bed, listening to the sound of his breathing. He sounded a bit stuffy, if you were honest, and it worried you. When his eyes opened, he let out a small groan, reaching up to place a tattooed hand on his head.

“You sound ill, Captain,” you noted, placing the back of your soft and petite hand on his forehead. “Thank heavens. No fever.”

“I’m not ill,” he grumbled, going to stand up quickly but shortly landing back to sitting on the bed. Fred put his hand on his head again, shutting his eyes tightly as his ears rang and his head pounded. You cooed, crawling over closer to him. You looked over his shoulder as you placed your hand on his bicep.

“Lay back down, please, and let me make you a cup of tea?”

“I’m fine, Duchess…”

Perhaps it was his recent kind gestures, but you were no longer afraid of the Captain like you were before. Fred’s soft side had become more apparent. Sometimes, you even forgot he was your captor, enjoying being in his company. You pouted a bit and he cracked the smallest smile. “Y/n, it is mighty kind that you want to baby me, but I’ll be fine.”

There was a small rap on the door and you blushed, getting out of his bed before any of the crew got wild ideas about what you were doing there in the first place. You busied yourself with straightening up his desk.

“Come in,” Fred said, going to grab his boots but becoming wobbly on his feet. He let out a loud sneeze, shocking even himself. You looked at him, giving him a knowing gaze.

The door opened and Lee Jordan entered, tipping his hat to you. Fred glanced at you, and then back at his first mate.

“Jordan, why don’t you take over my duties for today? I’m not well.”

The Captain had caved and it took everything in you to not rejoice in triumph. Lee looked surprised but nodded. “Yes, Captain.”

“Don’t let this ship go under or I’ll have your skin, Jordan.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Now, get out.”

You smiled, leaning down to light the fire under Fred’s kettle. You poured him a hot cup of tea, bringing it over to where he was sitting in bed. He coughed a bit, taking a small sip of tea.

“You must have gotten a cold from being damp and freezing.”

Fred had been out in the cold the night before, barking demands at the men as they went through another tempest. He had come back to his cabin soaking wet, shivering from the cool temperatures.

You curled up next to him, placing your head on his shoulder. “Is this alright?”

Captain Weasley hesitated before he spoke again. “...Yes.”

You looked at him, watching his eyes flutter shut slightly. “Tell me your story, Captain.”

“What do you mean? You’re the one with your head in a book.”

Fred closed his eyes. In his mind, he could feel the comfort of his childhood bedroom. As clear as day, he swore he could hear Ginny’s little giggle out in the sitting room. He and George were running around the room, playing with the wooden swords Arthur had carved for them - a special Christmas present. They would play pirates, unbeknownst of the irony in their childhood joys. In the same vision, he saw George’s body again, cold and lifeless on the ground.

He tore his eyes open, staring up at the maroon canopy above him.

“Not a story, Captain, your story.”

“I don’t have a story, Duchess. Please, leave it be.”

“Everyone has a story. Even you.”

You poked his chest playfully, playing with the top button of his shirt.

He reached up, moving your hand off of him. “Stop.”

You sat up, clearly not used to being told ‘no’. Of course, as a Duchess, what you wanted was always given to you. It was a discomfort to be denied something you desired - even something seemingly silly.

“Freddie-”

At the sound of the nickname, Fred felt his entire body tense up. It was the last thing his mother had said when she closed him inside of the wardrobe, never to return to him again. Hearing another person call him that sent fear through his entire being. He was afraid to get close to you because he knew the deep-seated truth that you were only his for a fleeting moment.

The happiness once existent faded from his eyes and he quickly rose from his bed, pulling you out by your arm. He would push you away before you got any closer to him. Fred knew he couldn’t protect his mother from the monsters. But now, he was the phantom, and he was determined to keep you guarded.

“I’m done playing this silly game with you, Duchess.”

“What ever are you talking--”

Fred dragged you toward the door and you could not help but follow behind, trying to keep up as he pulled you. You fought tears, unsure of what you had done to upset him.

He pulled you down the stairs, using his free hand to open up the cell he had been keeping you in originally. “Captain, please, talk to me,” you felt tears filling your own eyes. It was only then, as you looked up, you saw warm tears streaming down his face. His brown eyes looked brighter as they glistened.

He pushed you gently inside of the cell, slamming the door with a loud bang. His hands shook as he turned the key. He couldn’t remember the last time someone saw him cry. He felt embarrassed, but more so, he felt foolish for putting you in danger. Loving you was a losing game and all he wanted to do was keep you safe. He was falling for you faster than he could keep up with. His only defense was to retreat back into his role as a wretched villain in your story.

The only problem was that you had long forgotten him as a sinful pirate. Now, you had become to see him shed his harsh exterior. The light and warmth that emitted from his true self was not something that could be faked, and you knew it. As he stood before you crying, you longed to kiss his lips. You yearned to pull him close and wipe his tears away, using your lips to meet his dripping cheeks with affection.

“Fred, please, I...talk to me.”

Captain Weasley brought his hands up to the bars, slamming on them once more. His rings caused a loud, metallic sound to clang in your ears. “You do not know anything! You spoiled little rich girl! You think you do but you don’t.”

“Teach me,” you begged but he banged on the bars again.

“Be quiet! Jordan will be down with your supper.”

Fred wiped his tears quickly, adjusting his keys back onto his belt. He felt for his dagger, letting his thumb run of it. Just slightly, he let it slice into his skin, relishing in the pain that came soon after. He ignored the sounds of you banging on the bars, calling out to him. You were better off - or so he told himself.

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley #weasley twins

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aristidetwain · 4 years ago

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The Shared Dalek Universe of the 1960s: A Case Study

In 2011 (a little over ten years ago!), El Sandifer cited my dearly-beloved 1960s Who Annuals as examples of stories which ended up influencing the TV series many years down the line despite making an unrepentant hash of continuity.

Her first example is that the Doctor is called Dr. Who, and that he alternates between being from Earth on one page, and not being from Earth three pages later. I would point out that TV was doing much the same thing in those days, and went on flip-flopping basically until Jon Pertwee, so it’s not a terribly good argument to begin with.

However, she spends more time pondering the Daleks of the comics. These Daleks, she notes, are very different from those on television at the time. There are hordes of them, they travel in fleets of saucers, and they’re ruled by the Emperor. This contradiction, she argues, later fed back into the TV series in the RTD era, when huge fleets of Daleks became the norm and, earlier but still well after the first burst of Annuals, in the form of Patrick Troughton facing a very different Dalek Emperor in The Evil of the Daleks.

In no way do I wish to undermine Sandifer’s ultimate conclusion that “canon” in the sense of diegetic consistency is a red herring of little importance, and what matters for any sane definition of ‘canon’ is whether a story is referenced at all, not whether it’s contradicted.

However.

Having gone back to 1966′s The Dalek Outer Space Book, I have made a very startling discovery, in the story entitled The Secret of the Emperor. The rest is after the cut; I will leave you with a delightful panel from this story, showing the “bewildered” Dalek Emperor being bullied by knights at the Battle of Agincourt. (This is one of my favourite Doctor Who images ever, and if it doesn’t put a smile on your face I am not sure I want to take you seriously.)

So, famously, when he debuted in the comics, the Dalek Emperor was not the giant, static Dalek later shown on television in The Evil of the Daleks and The Bad Wolf of the Ways; instead, he was golden, squat, and had a bulbous head; to house all the ego, one expects.

Thus, most people will point at the fact that when the Doctor met “the Emperor” in The Evil of the Daleks, he resided in a huge tower-like casing in the Dalek City, as evidence that although ideas received a first treatment in the comics which later made it to screens, no direct continuity was intended; the comics’ Emperor was an alternate, a first draft, to be discarded once a more definitive TV portrayal emerged.

And yet, of course, it is somehow appealing to think of the two as the same Dalek, isn’t it? John Peel (Dalek writer voted most likely to be a 19th century Victorian man who stumbled into a time eddy; it’s mostly the remarkable sideburns) spent a lot of time in his Dalek novels establishing the life story of the Dalek Prime, the First Dalek Ever, who transitioned from the globe-headed casing to the towery Evil one and then deeply regretted it, what with the “getting killed by his own infighting troops with no way to escape”.

But this is usually viewed as a retcon. A cute retcon, an admirable retcon even, but a retcon. My good friend and esteemed fellow canon-welder, @rassilon-imprimatur, espoused such a view four years ago:

Well, all of this is, if you’ll pardon my French, bollocks. John Peel didn’t make anything up, except for the snappy name of “the Dalek Prime” as a designation for the individual. The Dalek Emperor in Evil of the Daleks was always the Emperor of the 1960s comics, and there is a very good reason for his seemingly-contradictory change of appearance. What’s more, I am not talking about murky authorial intent: these are things that the discerning Dalek fan in 1967 was meant to have known.

Let me wind back the clock to 1966. A Dalek master-plan is unfurling, a multi-media agenda spanning several years, more ambitious perhaps than even Time Lord Victorious in its scope; for the ultimate aim of a small cabal of men including David Whitaker, Terry Nation and Brad Ashton is nothing less than spinning the Daleks out of Doctor Who and into their own non-BBC TV show — to be made in America, and in colour, if you please!

For over a year now, a Dalek story arc has been running in the pages of TV Century 21, tracking the early rise of the Dalek Empire and its early interactions with 2060s humanity. Though the Daleks encroach over other parts of the book, including the headline stories, the bulk of this story arc comes in the form of weekly one-page comics making up one long serialised history of the Daleks, under the minimalist title of The Daleks.

Also under the solo brand of “The Daleks”: Annuals, an exclusive audio story, and, of course, toys. Time for Phase Two. It is time to end the Daleks’ endless confrontations with Dr Who on television, and set the stage for a new status quo able to support the TV series Nation dreams about.

Important background: Terry Nation, famously, does not like the Dalek Emperor. Whitaker made him up without consulting Nation, who maintains that the highest rank in the Dalek hierarchy should be the Dalek Supreme. The Emperor was hard to do away with in the comics, since he was basically the protagonist of the TV21 strip, but one imagines Nation was keen to jettison him from the world of the planned TV series.

I am speculating, of course, but I picture Nation sitting in his office, pondering the two great thorns in the side of the Independant Daleks Masterplan.

Thorn one: the Daleks are entangled with the Doctor both diegetically and symbolically; unless something can be done, the Daleks will remain “the Doctor’s enemies”, and a show where they commit evil and the Doctor fails to show up would ring false with the kids watching. The Daleks must be removed from Doctor Who in a sensational and definitive manner, or the whole enterprise is a nonstarter.

Thorn two: I, Terry Nation, have foolishly allowed David Whitaker to shape the lore of the Daleks, and he has made this Dalek Emperor guy very central to early Dalek history, leading up to the 22nd century Dalek Invasion of Earth that most of the Doctor’s subsequent conflicts with the Daleks have stemmed from. But I do not like the Dalek Emperor. I wish I could get rid of him in my new status quo.

…………Aha.

A triumphant Terry Nation adds a post-it note to the ever-widening corkboard representing the multimedia Dalek Masterplan setting up the TV series, which must already include things like “convince Jean Marsh to come back as Sara Kingdom”. Notes distilled from this corkboard will form the backbone of The Dalek Outer Space Book, this year’s Dalek annual, which exists principally to set up the prospective main characters of the new TV series: Sara Kingdom and Agent Mark Seven, of the Space Security Service.

The new post-it note reads:

Construe the Daleks’ enmity with the Doctor as a personal enmity between the Doctor and the Emperor, a la Sherlock Holmes and Moriarty. Have the Doctor triumph over the Emperor on TV in a big ‘event’ story.

Result: the Doctor-vs-Daleks storyline is over; the Emperor is dead; I get everything I ever wanted.

(Except maybe a pony.)

Then he phones David Whitaker, smirking all the while like an evil genie preparing to grant a badly-worded wish.

“Good news, old chap, I’ve decided you can write a new Dalek story for the BBC, all by yourself. I promise I won’t interfere.”

*confused and delighted David Whitaker noises*

“ And you can even bring in that Dalek Emperor of yours. Yes, you heard me!”

*Whitaker enthusiasm intensifies*

“Ahhh, but there’s a catch. The Dalek Emperor must DIE.”

Of course, like all good Faustian bargains, this is irresistible even though it is ruinous and the victim knows it to be ruinous. Whitaker agrees to the scheme. He and Nation begin planning out the events of the great finale of the Dalek-Doctor confrontation, which will hit the screens in 1967 as the mildly racist, but otherwise quite well-loved, ‘The Evil of the Daleks’.

Quickly enough, it is decided that Patrick Troughton crouching to berate the short and bubble-headed Golden Emperor would look silly. If the Emperor appears on TV, alongside human performers, then it should tower over them. Besides, this is to be the archvillainous Dalek Emperor’s last stand, and certain traditions must be followed.

Hence another task is added to the bucketlist of the Dalek Outer Space Book: tell the story of how the Emperor transformed from the globe-headed dwarf to some huge and terrible towering form under the Dalek City, for the Doctor to stumble onto later. This rebuilt Emperor may be teased, but must not be truly seen or truly defeated in the book; that would defeat the whole idea.

Hence, The Secret of the Emperor, a story which sees the Emperor becoming self-conscious about his own efficiency and letting the Scientist Daleks rebuild his casing from scratch. The final page is a splash panel, a delightfully nonsensical diagram of the mechanical components of the new casing.

The almost surreal array of colours and shapes is so arresting as to obscure an important detai. Many have seen this page over and over, and yet still missed it. The recent(ish) ‘Anatomy of the New Dalek Emperor’ artwork from Time Lord Victorious clearly looked at this page for reference, in spite of the fact that the TLV Emperor is much more inspired by the old Emperor than the rebuilt one.

Let me spell it out for you: look at the Scientist Daleks in the top right and centre-left. Look at them.

The new Emperor is huge.

And what else?

That Scientist on the left is plugging huge wires snaking from the wall into the tower-casing.

He now resides in the Great Hall of the Dalek City.

The background wall is a weird checkered pattern.

In addition, the following facts are seeded throughout the earlier pages of The Secret of the Emperor.

The point of moving to the new casing was to grant the Emperor increased brain capacity (suitable for concocting masterplans).

He acquired said increased brain capacity to help the Daleks attempt to overcome humanity once and for all.

The Emperor has recently had a trautmatic but eye-opening experience with time travel.

Ignore the fact that the Emperor was here depicted with what appears to be a still fairly bulbous, and golden, head, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that this is very, very direct setup for how the Doctor finds the Dalek Emperor in The Evil of the Daleks — tower-like, in an imperial throneroom in the Dalek City, with a checkered wall pattern, planning out a complicated scheme to harness time travel as a means of defeating humanity once and for all!

Yes, the designs don’t quite match — but how could the artist behind the visuals of Secret of the Emperor have known precisely what Shawcraft would build, a year later, based on the same basic description by Nation & Whitaker? The parallels far outweigh the minor differences in execution. (It’s worth noting that elsewhere in the Outer Space Book a different artist drew what was clearly intended to be the Golden Emperor as a large, golden, but normally-proportioned Dalek, so it’s not like the visual descriptions of these scripts were exceedingly precise…)

The rebuilt Emperor is never seen in the Outer Space Book outside of this ‘dissection’: he is heard throughout The Brain Tappers but kept carefully off-panel, and his new and dangerous new casing is pointedly not destroyed in the story’s conclusion. Well, of course not. That’s what Dr Who is for.

tl;dr: it is not a post hoc retcon, or even a secret, that the round-headed Emperor of the comics became the Dalek Emperor of Evil of the Daleks. A holistic view of the state of Dalek media in 1966-1967 shows that, in fact, it was the whole point that this be the Emperor of the comics; and that the comics had begun setting this up long before Patrick Troughton encountered Edward Waterfield on TV.

And thus, to circle back to Sandifer’s 2011 post, it is not enough to simply say that the “seemingly non-canon” comics inspired the show down the line. In fact in this instance, what appeared on Doctor Who existed for the benefit of the Daleks spin-off — not vice-versa!

#Daleks #Canon-Welding #Doctor Who #Analysis #Doctor Who Meta #Dalek Emperor #Dalek Prime #The Evil of the Daleks #Terry Nation #David Whitaker #Brad Ashton #The Secret of the Emperor #El Sandifer #Canon #Jacob Black

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happyandticklish · 4 years ago

Text

Behave

Notes: For the anon request. The request was slightly vague, so I tried to improvise a little. I hope you like the result! ^^

Summary: Shizuo has a habit of picking Izaya up whenever he tries to stir up trouble, to mischievous results.

Causing general mayhem and disaster was one of Izaya’s favorite activities, and Ikebukuro was one of his favorite cities to do so in. The chance of bumping into some kind of natural disaster was almost inevitable, and on the rare occasion of peace among the streets, Izaya was always willing to stir something up himself. Sometimes this something could be the beginnings of a gang war. And sometimes it was merely messing with small children.

Life was full of surprises that way.

“And just what do we have here?” Izaya inquired, folding his hands in front of himself as he stopped before a group of children gathered on the park asphalt. There were three of them, a young girl with a box of chalk clutched protectively to her chest, and two boys, who had previously been drawing out an outline for hop-scotch, who both looked to be about a year or so older than her.

The first boy glanced up at his comment, shooting him a suspicious glance. “Playing a game,” he answered stiffly, clearly waiting for the man to say anything in the negative about it.

“So I can see,” Izaya agreed, surveying the scene before them. “Hop-scotch… I remember playing that game as a kid. How do the rules work again?”

“Well—” the girl started hesitantly, but before she could say anything more, Izaya had begun hopping from one foot to the next over the squares provided. He wobbled a bit as he went, all with an assured smile. For his finale, he jumped forward with both feet, landing on the discarded pieces of chalk and cracking two of them easily.

“Hey!” the girl cried, eyes widening. “I just got those!”

“Oh!” Izaya clucked his tongue, placing his hands on his hips as he surveyed his work. “Well that will never do. I guess we’ll just have to break the other ones to match. Would you terribly mind handing over that box?”

The girl hid the box quickly behind her back, which wasn’t the smartest of defensive moves but it was all she had. The second boy appeared to be taking in the scene cautiously, clearly not wanting to get himself involved. The first one however, took an angry step forward, glaring up at him.

“Leave her alone!” he protested, portraying a level of bravado he didn’t feel. “Or I’ll—I’ll—”

“You’ll… what?” Izaya inquired, leaning down to face him with a devastating smirk. “No, continue, I’m truly curious—what exactly could you do?”

The boy stammered over his words, trying to think of any kind of witty reply but coming up blank.

“Leave the kid alone.”

Izaya sprang up, whirling around at the sound of the telltale voice. “Shizu-chan~! So nice of you to drop by. Decided to enjoy the spring day as well?”

One hand shoved carelessly in his pocket, Shizuo Heiwajima stood bathed in the gentle lamplight of the sun, surveying the scene casually. In place of his usual angry scowl, however, there was a bored, almost dismissive look on his face, as though dealing with Izaya’s shit simply wasn’t worth his time. Instead of answering, he stalked over to the other with quick, forceful steps, until they were inches away.

Izaya staggered back a little, taken by surprise by the direct approach. He opened his mouth to say something, but before he could Shizuo had leaned down, grabbing Izaya around the waist, and hauled him over his shoulder. Izaya squawked in an undignified manner, gripping onto the back of Shizuo’s shirt for support.

Shizuo kicked the broken pieces of chalk back over to the children with a grunted, “here”, before turning around and heading off in the opposite direction, Izaya in tow.

By this point a burning crimson had begun to overtake Izaya’s features, and he could see the faces of the children from his vantage point, all of whom seemed delighted to see him in the embarrassing position. “You know, you can’t simply pick me up whenever you feel like it,” he huffed, reaching back in an attempt to swat at the back of the other’s head.

“Oh?” Shizuo easily avoided him as Izaya struggled to maneuver his arm in the right position. “And what exactly are you going to do about it?” he asked, parroting Izaya’s earlier words.

Izaya narrowed his eyes. He kicked one of his legs out, aiming to get a direct hit at his stomach. Unfortunately, legs do not generally go in that direction and he primarily ending up flailing around a lot and sometimes hitting the other’s arm in the process. This was not troublesome all on its own (Shizuo had definitely endured far worse from the flea), but it did prompt an idea. The next time one of Izaya’s legs came too near his face, he grabbed it with his other hand, gripping his fingers into the denim protecting the backs of his thighs.

Izaya let out a strangled noise, managing to somehow disguise it as a cough at the last moment. Shizuo’s hand remained on his thigh, his fingers gently tapping where they curled around his leg. Izaya’s breath caught in his throat as he realized suddenly how very, very fucked he was.

“S-Shizuo,” he said, trying as desperately as he could to keep his growing panic out of his voice. “I really think you should let me down now.”

“What’s wrong?” Shizuo asked calmly, his fingers tapping out a rhythm of doom against his jeans, each and every one causing Izaya to twitch against his will. “You sound suddenly concerned. Is something bothering you?”

“Shizuo, not again,” Izaya gritted out. Memories were flooding back to him of a week ago, causing butterflies to excite uninvited in his stomach. “If you think you can simply pick me up like a common stray and t—” he broke off, pressing his lips together into a firm, irritated line.

“And what?” Shizuo questioned, tossing a teasing glance back at him. Amusement danced in his eyes, and never had Izaya wished to punch him more than in that moment. “What exactly is it that I can’t do?”

“I believe you know perfectly well what I mean,” Izaya replied with a sickeningly pleasant smile. “After all, seeing as it has for some reason become one of your favorite activities to do to me, I dearly hope you know what it is.”

“And I would hope you know what it is, considering you appear to love it so much,” Shizuo shot back, pinching the back of his thigh suddenly.

“I w—shit!” Izaya lurched forward, his body’s instinctual response to save himself from the sensation. His arms flailed wildly, searching for a handhold, and eventually clinging onto the back of Shizuo’s shirt. Shizuo stiffened, trying to ignore the strangely pleasant shudder that ran down his spine as Izaya’s fingers brushed his back. He shook it off, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand.

Shizuo outlined a path of small pinches down the back of Izaya’s thigh, making the man jerk and squirm with each one, though he managed to stifle any noises this time. Once he had gotten Izaya properly ramped up, he removed his hand entirely, giving the other a momentary reprieve.

Izaya exhaled slowly, glad for the break. After a moment of nothing happening however, he threw a confused glance back at the other. “Are you done t—ahAHAHAHA, ohohoho shIHIHIHIHihihit!”

Izaya burst into wild, uncontrolled laughter as Shizuo suddenly dug his fingers into his thigh, pressing into just the right pressure points to make the other go positively mad. His hand came back instinctively to try to rip Shizuo’s hand away from the spot, but his current position prevented him from doing so. The sudden, intensive tickling caused a hysteria that weakened Izaya instantly, his eyes crinkling up into a series of wild giggles and shrieks, a euphoria he didn’t often allow himself to feel lighting up in his chest. His legs kicked out with reckless abandon, but nothing he attempted saved himself from the relentless attack.

Just as suddenly as he had initiated it, Shizuo stopped, allowing his hand to merely rest on the other’s leg. Izaya wheezed helplessly, burying his face in the back of the other’s shirt. His skin tingled with phantoms of the earlier attack.

“I’m sorry, you were going to say something?” Shizuo asked innocently.

Izaya weakly lifted his head, shooting back a venomous glare. “You utter ahahAHAHASSHOLE, nohohoho, nOHOHOT AHAHAhagain!”

Izaya fell back into hysterics as Shizuo once again started up with his thighs. It was a testament to Shizuo’s skill that he was able to keep a firm hold on Izaya whilst torturing him, all the while continuing to stroll through the streets as though nothing was happening. By this point, people had started to stare, dumbfounded by the sight of a grown man thrashing and howling with laughter, hoisted like a misbehaving child over another man’s shoulder.

“S-Shihihihizuo!” Izaya squawked, pounding his fist against the other’s back. “StahAHAHAP IHIHIHIT!”

“Sure,” Shizuo agreed, smirking as his fingers found a particularly unfortunate spot that had Izaya screeching. “Just say, ‘Shizuo is superior to me in every way’. You can do that, can’t you?”

“F-FuhuhUHUHUCK YOHOhohou!”

Shizuo clucked his tongue in disappointment. “I’m afraid that’s not it. Want to try again?”

Izaya tried. He really did. He used every ounce of self-control he had to try to either bear the sensations wracking his body or to somehow escape from Shizuo’s hold. But the embarrassing position combined with the results of a death spot being targeted in such an effective manner eventually did him in and he cracked.

“OhOHOHOKAY! OHOHohohohokay!” Izaya cried, frantic giggles interspersing his words. “S-Shihihizuo ihihis—ahAHAHAha, nohohoho wahahait—Shihihizuo—gahAHAHA! Gihihive mehehehe ahahahaha seHEHEHEHehecond!”

Shizuo reluctantly complied, momentarily stilling his hand. Izaya panted heavily, attempting to get any amount of air back. Once he’d finally regained enough breath to speak any semblance of coherent words, he raised his head and grinned back at the other. “Shizuo is… a fool for thinking I’d ever say anything inherently false as that. Sorry, try again next time.”

Shizuo’s confident smirk quickly transformed into an irritated scowl. “You little—” Instantly there were hands at his thighs again, only this time he attacked the other one which had thus far received no attention from their little game. Izaya let out an honest-to-god squeak, unprepared for the switch. He pulled at Shizuo’s shirt, needing a handhold as he faced the unbearable sensations. As he did so, however, he noticed the way his tugging had ridden Shizuo’s shirt up slightly, revealing the bare skin of his lower back and hips.

Izaya was struck with a sudden idea.

Shizuo flinched as he felt two hands grab onto his hips, fingers curling into the skin in a manner that was unmistakably ticklish. His hand faltered on Izaya’s thigh as his lips tugged into a reluctant grin, a couple growled giggles escaping him.

“I-Izaya,” he threatened, still holding onto Izaya but doing little else besides that. “Whatever you’re thinking, don’t.”

“Why?” Izaya teased, scratching his hips once more and feeling the man shudder beneath him. “Feeling a bit nervous now that the situations have reversed?”

“I’ll drop you,” Shizuo threatened.

“I’m not worried,” Izaya dismissed, clearly having fun with the sudden power dynamic. “Haven’t you heard? Cats always land on their feet.”

“Mind if I test that theory?”

“Now, now, no need to be grumpy.” Izaya squeezed his hips again and Shizuo choked on a stifled giggle. “I get it. You can dish it out, but you can’t take it. It’s fine, really. I’ll just be using it to my advantage now, is all.”

“L-Like hell you are!” Shizuo stammered, attempting to pull Izaya off his shoulders. Izaya yelped, grabbing onto Shizuo’s hips for support, causing the man to stumble forwards, releasing him in one go. With a startled cry, Izaya tumbled off his shoulders, and Shizuo jerked around, just managing to catch him by the arm as he hit the ground. It wasn’t a complete save (and Izaya would be complaining about being sore for days after), but it did prevent him from slamming into the concrete.

Izaya stared up at Shizuo, panting a little, his gaze focused on the place where Shizuo still gripped his arm. With a cough, Shizuo quickly released him, straightening up. “Are you…” he started slowly, rubbing the back of his neck uncertainly. “Okay?”

Izaya blinked, at a momentary loss for what to say, before his usual smirk returned to him. “Of course I’m okay, dear Shizu-chan. More than okay, at that.” He clambered to his feet, dusting off his jeans and trying not to focus on how his tailbone ached from slamming into the ground. “Because now I know your weakness, locked away in my brain for all eternity. But don’t worry—I’ll only use it against you as often as you’ve used mine against me. Now if you don’t mind, I really have some important business to be attending to, and must take my leave. Farewell, my dear brute.”

He saluted the other mockingly, whirling on his heel and quickly walking away. Shizuo’s frown of confusion as he watched him go quickly transformed into one of irritation. “You bastard, get back here!” he exclaimed, taking chase after him. “Who said you get to have the last word, huh?”

Izaya laughed merrily as he sprinted ahead, the two quickly disappearing into the chaos of the city. No matter what happened, nothing ever really changed between the two. One info broker, one bodyguard, locked together in continuous battle.

And as Izaya rounded the next corner sharply, his smirk turning into something almost giddy from the chase, he found he didn’t really mind if it meant he could hold the beast’s attention for even a moment longer.

#tickle fic #fic request #shizaya #durarara #durarara!!#shizuo heiwajima #izaya orihara #tickling #fanfic #fanfiction #requests

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smol-and-grumpy · 4 years ago

Text

Confidentiality - Chapter 4: After the Convention

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Summary: Four months. Four long months that she’s been hiding in lockdown. So when everything starts to go back to normal again, she’s going back to work as Jensen’s handler for the first Supernatural convention after the pandemic.

Chapter Warnings: NSFW, flangst

WC: 3221

Beta’d by: @dean-winchesters-bacon <3

THIS SERIES IS COMPLETE ON PATREON

Series Masterlist ~ SPN Masterlist

Become a Patron ~ Buy me a coffee

She’s talking to a colleague with her third drink in hand when her phone vibrates in her purse. Fishing it out, she stares at the screen. Has to smirk too, just a little.

J: Are you finished?

Chuckling, she types in a reply. Who’s the needy one now, huh?

Y/N: Not yet. Are you?

J: Yeah, Jar wanted to go to bed early, we skipped the drinks after dinner.

Her fingers go over the keypad and she’s typing but his messages keep on coming in.

J: I’m bored

J: My cock is hard

J: I wanna bend you over

J: Come here

Y/N: I’m not finished. Give me another hour.

J: I might be sleeping

Y/N: Then I’m going back to my own hotel

J: You should go back and check out and then come here.

Y/N: Don’t know what the others will say about that.

J: Is it better if you go back in the morning in your clothes from today?

She rolls her eyes because she knows he’s right.

J: Tell them you have to leave early before they wake up.

J: Which, btw, is a good excuse to leave the bar earlier too.

Y/N: You did some thinking on this, huh?

J: Babe, I like to be thorough.

Y/N: But then it’ll take me longer to get to you.

J: I’ll survive, have your panties to keep me company.

Y/N: That’s creepy

J: Then come here and make it less creepy

Y/N downs her last drink in a hurry. She never wanted to be that girl who runs when a man tells her to, but in this case she knows that Jensen’s right and god knows that she wants to spend time with him too. Because after this? After tonight, she’s secretly decided that she’s going back to her own place. The pandemic is over, they are allowed to move around freely. There’s no need to be holed up with someone just because they both don’t want to be alone.

Of course she hasn’t told him yet. She’s not really good at these things. Avoids the talking like a plague.

Bidding her goodbyes, she tells her team that she has to leave early tomorrow and therefore won’t see them at check out in the morning. But she’ll see them at the next convention, which is basically around the corner.

Back in her room, she packs her things, checks out and takes an Uber to Jensen’s hotel. She goes straight for the elevators and when she arrives on his floor, she takes off her heels that are killing her. Slowly, she strolls over to his door and knocks.

The door flies open and Jensen’s still dressed in his shirt and jeans. His hair is a little ruffled up, probably because he took a nap waiting for her. He must have because he absolutely loves taking naps.

He opens the door wider for her to roll her suitcase in and she leaves her shoes by the door. She notices the room smelling like him. Smelling like his cologne. She absolutely loves that.

“You checked out,” he says and steps away from the door, walks further into the room.

“You told me to.” Y/N turns around and stands upright, sees him crossing his arms over his chest.

“I didn’t think you’d do what I say,” Jensen shrugs before he lets his hands drop down around his hips and starts to stroll towards her.

He reaches out, pushing his hand below her chin to tip her face up. She sees him staring at her, the light in the room is dim, but it’s just right to bring his freckles into focus. She loves them dearly.

“Who won today?” she asks, her lips spread into a grin.

Jensen chuckles, “I’d like to think it’s a draw.” He bends down, kisses her smiling lips, tongue teasing and tempting.

As always with them, their kisses grow heavier quickly and Jensen wraps one arm around her waist, pulling her closer. She moans at it, moans at the bulge she feels prodding against her lower stomach, and he swallows all the sound she’s making.

He turns around with her in his arm, turns around with his lips still attached to hers and walks her back to the bed, laughs quietly into her open mouth before he picks her up and throws her into his still made bed.

Y/N shrieks and giggles in delight and Jensen’s on her, kissing and nibbling at her throat as his hands find the zip of her skirt, pulling them down.

He kisses his way up again, claims her mouth once more before he parts but he leaves his forehead on hers, “Tell me what you want.”

“God—”

“Ah, just call me Jensen,” his smile is cocky and she cranes her neck, kissing him to shut him up.

“Tell me,” he breathes into her mouth between hard kisses and soft tentative licks of his tongue.

“Oh god,” she breathes out, “I wanna you to eat me like you said you wanted to.”

“Yeah?” Jensen licks down her throat, sucks in her skin sharply. She’s altogether sure that he’ll leave a mark. Not that she cares. Not right now.

“Yeah,” she says, “Want to bury my hands in your hair, want to feel your beard between my thighs.”

“Mmh.”

Jensen works his way further down, nimble fingers unbuttoning her blouse on his way down. He pushes her shirt open, hands going to her bra and pushes them underneath her tits, making them stand up. He groans, and dips his face down, sucking her nipple into his mouth while he kneads at her other tit.

She arches her back, hands grabbing at his head and Jensen works his way further down, leaving a trail of kisses and pricking of his beard in his wake. His hand leaves her tits to pull at her skirt. He has to step out of the bed to be able to take it off properly and flings it to the floor.

He also takes the opportunity while he stands to get rid of his shirt, fingers quickly working on his buttons, and sends the fabric piling next to her skirt on the floor. She sits up as well, pulling her blouse off her body and unhooking her bra while her eyes are trained on him.

Licking her lips, she watches him unbuckle his belt, watches him zip down his pants and pull them down, stepping out of them before he gets rid of his underwear. Jensen’s hard, the tip of it leaking clear liquid already.

God, it makes her mouth water.

His one hand goes to his cock, fists it and she watches him thumbing at his slit, spreading the clear liquid around the head, as he kneels onto the bed again. His hand leaves his cock and he pushes her knees apart.

“Christ, look at you,” Jensen rubs his hands along her inner thighs, lets his finger brush against her sensitive skin, “So pretty.”

That’s also something he does, he can dirty talk so sweetly. It makes all the blood in her body shoot up to her head.

Jensen shoulders himself between her thighs, his breathing fans hotly over her wet pussy. He looks at her, holds her gaze as he sticks his tongue out and dips his head down a little to licks a broad stripe up her wet center.

“Fuck,” she chokes out, her hands find his hair, fingers threading through his soft locks as she arches her back and pulls him closer into her pussy.

He closes his eyes, licks and sucks at her nub before he threads his whole face through her slick. He’s so good at it, fuck. The prickling of the beard gives her that added sensation. She’s sure she’ll have a beard burn tomorrow, but her skin has slowly gotten used to it in the four months of quarantine. As much as she loves for him to do it, he loves it just as much, if not more, and she can’t find in her heart to deny what makes him happy. It’s more of a win-win situation.

One night, he spent three hours down there, determined to see how many times he could make her come on his tongue alone. Seven. It was seven times. It could have been more but her skin had started to hurt. He’d wanted to get up and shave right then and there but fortunately, she’d been able to talk him out of it.

Y/N fists her hands into his hair as she feels her orgasm approaching, pulling him even closer and grinds her pussy against him. Jensen lets her, humming and sucking some more, bringing her closer to the edge.

“Fuck, Jen—, I’m—”

“Mmh, come on, baby.”

Her legs are shaking, her whole body trembles as an orgasm shakes through her, and she’s still holding him close still, jerking with the aftershocks of her release.

Jensen lets her calm down, kisses her clit and her folds softly, breathing hot air that soothes her tender skin.

“Good?” he cocks his eyebrows and looks up at her with a charming smirk.

“Oh god, yes,” she laughs, and yanks him up by his hair. He likes that, he told her once. Likes it when it hurts a little.

His face comes up gleaming, beard shimmering with her release and Jensen licks his lips, tasting her off his mouth.

He moves further up, kisses her, flooding her mouth with her own taste as he kisses her hungrily. The tip of his dick leaves a wet trail on her thighs.

“I wanna fuck you so bad,” he growls low, kisses down her jaw, and moves to suck at her throat again, the place where he left a mark. Where he always leaves a mark.

Y/N pushes him away playfully so he’s kneeling on the bed while she gets up and gets on all fours facing him. She lowers herself on her arms, but keeps her ass up in the air as she nuzzles her face into his crotch, nosing at his heavy balls.

“Babe, I’m gonna blow as soon as you suck it,” Jensen’s breathing is ragged, his voice a little broken.

She looks up at him, sees his hair falling around his face as he looks down at her, his hands are fisted into balls on his side. Humming, she lets her tongue tickle his balls. “Where’s your self control, Ackles?” she asks before sucking in his testicles, worries at one and then the other. His dick jerks at her touches.

“Fuck,” he grits his teeth, “I have self control, alright? It already takes everything in me not to just shoot into your face.”

Grinning, she sticks out her tongue, licks a broad stripe up his shaft and twirls her tongue around the head of his cock. The taste of pre-cum is strong in her mouth; it floods her mind. It makes her dizzy, makes her crave, makes her thirst for more.

His left hand goes to her hair, stroking it back as he watches her wrap her lips around his tip, tongue toying with the sensitive band.

“God,” he groans, and she knows that he has self control because he’s trying his best not to just fuck his cock down her throat.

She opens her mouth wider, sticks out her tongue and takes him in further. He growls above her, clearly about to fall apart and that’s when Y/N knows that she has him where she wants him. Bobbing her head, she sucks him, twirls her tongue when she reaches the tip and sucks just a tad more there.

“God,” Jensen moans, “Just like that, Fuck, yeah. So good, you’re doing so good, baby.”

Did she say that she loves that too? Absolutely loves to be praised by him. It comes out so deep, gravely, it makes her cunt ache and her wetness drip down her thighs.

The sound of her sucking him off is loud in the room, it makes her a little embarrassed but when the praises start to come in, she quickly forgets about it.

“Good girl,” he whispers, and she looks up to see him looking down at her fondly, his hand in her hair, tucking it behind her ear as he watches her please him.

Leaning over her while she takes him the deepest she can, he toys with her ass and pussy, rubbing her just right, then slides two fingers into her wet heat. She moans with her mouth full of his cock.

After only about six head-bobs later, Jensen has enough, because he’s pulling her off his cock and manhandling her around so that she’s still on all fours but facing away from him, making her squeal and laugh.

So much for his self control.

He has to do that, has to distract her when he knows that he’ll blow. Has to stop because the act that he enjoys most is when he can come inside of her.

Jensen loves the idea of her leaking his cum. She doesn’t really mind. Never had a reason to mind since they were holed up in his home anyway. He likes it when he sees her squirm while she’s making breakfast, likes it when he sees her stop in her tracks while she’s walking around the house only to look between her thighs to check if she needs to go wash herself or if tissues are enough.

It’s weird that she’s come to love it too. Loves how all of a sudden, the warmness spreads between her thighs. She rarely wore panties during her stay with Jensen, and had stopped wearing them after two weeks because she ended up changing them all the time.

He spanks both his hands down her ass cheeks, making her yelp, and he kneads them around, massaging them before spanking her again, “Told you I wanted to spank you for your behavior today.”

Striking down twice more, he makes her cry out into the sheets. And then he sits back onto his heels, and probably admires his work. She knows he must be as it’s awfully silent at her back.

Something’s poking at her entrance, something soft and blunt. He threads his cockhead through her slick, teasing her some more. Y/N pushes her ass back against him, trying to catch his dick, trying to fuck herself on his cock.

“Who’s needy now, huh?” Jensen snickers.

With one hand, he holds her still by her hips as he guides his cock to her pussy with his other hand and pushes in. She moans out when she feels his tip entering her.

Jensen leaves his cock there, both hands on her hips and he grabs a handful of her flesh before pushing his hips forward, sinking his cock into her slowly. He groans, loud and deep, making her shudder with want.

Pulling his hips back, he also pulls his cock out at the same time, leaving the tip inside only to slam back into her more roughly. The impact sends her forward but he’s still holding her by her hips, pulling her back while he thrusts forward. He’s so fucking deep, fills her so fucking good.

“Fuck,” she breathes out, her hand fists in the sheets as she lets him fuck her hard and rough.

Y/N knows he needs it like this from time to time and god knows she needs it, too.

He thrusts into her at a maddening pace, spanks her ass more while he’s at it. “That’s it, baby, fuck,” he growls above her. Before she knows it, he slips out, flips her and turns her around, to sink his cock right back in as he covers her body with his.

Jensen kisses her, licking into her mouth, while she claws at his back. That’s her way of leaving a mark on him, and he absolutely does not mind.

His thrusts are getting slower, more sensual, more intimate. And she knows that it’s what he does. He can switch his dominant side on and off. One moment he wants to take everything from her, the next, he’s giving her everything she needs.

He fucks her slow and deep, kisses her and sucks in her tongue, swallowing her moan into his open mouth. Jensen loves this angle because it makes her come as he strokes inside her tight channel and hits her sweet spot just right. Y/N gushes around him, bites into his shoulder as her thighs clamp around his waist, pressing his body between them. Jensen groans too, buries his face into the crook of her neck as he mouths at her throat.

They stay connected a little longer with him propping himself up on his elbows next to her head. His hand smoothes her hair back, his nose nudging at hers, while he pecks her lips. His hair is falling around his face and her hand goes up to brush them back too. They are sticky and sweaty and his beard tickles on her cheek.

After the shower, where he made her come again on his fingers, they cozy up onto the bed, a blanket surrounding them while she rests her head on his chest. She hooks her leg over his thighs while his hand lazily strokes her back.

The silence between them is comfortable, calming.

It’s when Jensen starts to speak that she feels like crying.

“Are you coming home with me tomorrow?” he whispers. The tone of his voice indicates that he knows it’s not his choice.

“I don’t know,” she says, because she really doesn’t. Her return flight is to Austin, but she has no idea what will happen from there on out.

“I want you to.”

“Jensen...”

“I really do.”

She swallows the lump in her throat, “You know that it has started with us just being comfortable around each other, enjoying each other's company, right?”

“Yeah,” Jensen sighs, “but we lived together for four months.” He holds her just a little tighter, not wanting to let her go. “I’d like for you to stay.”

“I’d rather not have anyone know about it.”

“They won’t. I’ll keep you my secret,” he says, tilting his head to kiss her forehead.

“I don’t have to go anywhere public with you?” she asks, because that’s a nightmare for her. She’s just not good at that.

“Not if you don’t want to,” he chuckles, “Say yes?”

“Does that mean that you want to really date me?”

He turns his head to look at her, in that angle she can see a little double chin. It’s absolutely adorable; she loves his soft bits. “We have to yet go on a date together, but yeah, I’d love to take you out.”

“I don’t put out on the first date, Jensen.” It’s her turn to chuckle.

“I bet I can change your mind.” He turns around, pins her to her mattress and starts to rub his beard on her face, making her giggle and laugh. He tickles some more, hands goes to her hips, her ribs.

“Yes,” Y/N says breathlessly, “yes.” Jensen stops, his nose touching hers, his long hair falling into her face and he smiles before he presses his lips on hers.

..The End

Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback.

#confidentiality #jensen ackles #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x you #jensen ackles fic #jensen x you #jensen x reader #jensen ackles fan fic #jensen ackles fan fiction #nathalie writes

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twinkleton · 4 years ago

Note

ok but what if... a spin off of your douxie x reader where we get the details on how douxie proposed 👀

Ask and ye shall receive! This takes place a year after my At the End of the Century fic, I’m considering call this series just Married!Douxie since any fics I do with this universe they will be married. I didn’t imagine them living in the castle anymore without Merlin, and I just wanted some cottagecore lmao. And yes, reader invents cat trees 😂. Hope you guys enjoy!

Tags: @clarencebells @purplesinnerw

“Archie, could you come over here?”

The familiar pokes his head up from his proclaimed resting spot, a basket generally used for berry-picking, and lets out a big yawn.

“I’m afraid I can’t, you’ve sucked all the energy out from me already,” he mumbles, plopping his head back down. Archie and the young witch had spent the morning organizing their belongings into their new home. As a show of gratitude and solidarity for the small family, the trolls of Dwoza had been building them a little cottage in the forest for the past year, between walking distance of their land and Camelot. They graciously accepted the gift.

“Please, just for a minute! Then you can continue your lounging,” Y/N pleaded from her and Douxie’s bedroom. Archie makes a low groan and rolls out of his makeshift bed, slowly making his way over to her.

“I swear if you ask me to fly over to a shelf you can’t reach one more time, I will-” His sentence stops short once he enters the room, eyes wide. Unbeknownst to him, while he was taking his little cat nap, the girl had been spending her time crafting up a tower for him, with all sorts of levels for him to climb, at the top of it being a cozy bed for him, made out of fabric she’d stolen from the castle. Old habits die hard. However, it was worth it for Y/N to see the look on her friend’s face.

“Is..is this for me?” Archie climbs up to the first level.

“Well I don’t see any other cat familiars lying around,” she replies with a smirk.

“Always so cheeky,” he says with a chuckle. His nose slightly wiggled, detecting a fishy odor coming from the top.

“Oh, you didn’t.”

“Oh, I so did.”

He swiftly leaps to the highest level, eyes gleaming with delight as his suspicions to what was there were confirmed. Y/N, being the angel in his eyes that she is, had prepared roasted salmon for him. How she somehow was able to hide all of this from him, he’ll never know.

“Do-do you like it?” Y/N asked sheepishly.

Suddenly, there’s weight on her chest, as Archie had flown over to her, trapping her into a bear hug that she quickly reciprocated.

“I don’t understand, why did you do all of this for me?”

She laid her hand onto his head, gently stroking, “I don’t need a reason, Arch. You’re my friend, we've been through a lot. You deserve this.”

If it was in Archie’s nature, there would have been tears falling from his eyes. However, what felt right for him was to embrace her for a little bit longer, ending the hug with a simple, “Thank you, Y/N.”

Their bonding moment was cut short by the sudden loud bang of the front door opening, a disheveled and filthy Douxie stumbling in. His man bun had completely become undone, leaving his hair a tangled mess on top of his head. His clothes were covered in soot and his shoes were mysteriously soggy, leaving footprints on the floor. He leans into the door, slamming it shut behind him.

The two rush over to him. “Oh, fuzzbuckets. What on Earth happened to you?”

“Stealing my catchphrases now, love? I knew I’d eventually rub off on you,”

An annoyed groan escapes Y/N’s lips as she walks over to assist Douxie in standing. “I thought you said you were helping Deya with a simple errand. You look like you volunteered to be her personal target dummy.”

“Knowing Douxie, that probably isn’t far off from the truth,” Archie smirks, giving Douxie an all-knowing look.

“So she didn’t give all of the details of her request, she’s a busy woman. She has a legacy of Trollhunters to begin, can’t expect her to be so thorough.” Douxie chuckles nervously, a laugh that tells Archie all he needs to know but seemingly raises no concern for Y/N.

“All right. Arch, go enjoy your dinner. I’ll take care of him,” Y/N says, leading Douxie towards the bath further down the hall.

Once she has filled the bath up sufficiently, she sticks a hand into the water, muttering under her breath a spell. Her hand glows a vibrant scarlet shade, and soon the water begins to bubble up with steam rising into the air. Douxie, with clothes discarded onto the floor, leans onto Y/N for support as he slowly descends into the bath. He relaxes his muscles, the warm water helping ease all the aches he has in his limbs.

“Have I ever said that I love magic? Because I do, I really do,” his girlfriend giggles at his comment as she softly brushes out his mangled locks. Afterwards, she pours some of the water onto his hair, washing away the sweat and grime.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

“With you, never better.”

“No, I mean, with everything. I know it’s been a year since the battle, but we haven’t really talked much about what happened. How it’s been for you without...Merlin.” Y/N had been hesitant with bringing up his master, not wanting to cause him any stress or discomfort. Still, she figured it was better than the alternative of Douxie bottling up his feelings.

He adjusts himself so that he’s facing Y/N, looking up to make eye contact with her. Despite himself, he can’t help but get entranced by her eyes, so vibrant and full of genuine love and concern for him. He reaches over and brushes away hair, cupping her face. How he became so lucky to have someone as kind, beautiful, and thoughtful as her be in his life, let alone be with him, he’ll never understand. He doesn’t know what living would be like if she wasn’t a constant presence and he doesn’t want to know.

So, he lets out something he’s truly been bottling up.

“Marry me.”

Y/N can’t fully process what he’d just said to her. Her brain hasn’t caught up with her heart, which fluttered the moment those two little words left his mouth.

“What?”

Douxie lets go of her face to grab onto her hands, pulling them close to him.

“I wanted to pick a better time to bare my heart out to you, one where I’m not bare...myself,” that earns a little chuckle from Y/N, “But, I just can’t wait any longer.”

He instructs her to grab his tunic still lying on the floor and to check the inner pocket. Once she reaches her hand inside, she feels a small band of metal, pulling it out to see. It’s revealed to be a golden ring, with intricate carvings all along the band, and secured on top was a small emerald gem, so polished that light reflects beautifully off of it. The sight of it alone is enough to make Y/N’s eyes start to water.

“You made this?”

Douxie gives a little nod, “Hence my very repugnant appearance earlier. I did go to see Deya, but it was to ask her for a favor, not the other way around. I knew they would have just the metal and stone I needed for the ring, however had they warned me that retrieving said materials would be so difficult, maybe I would’ve looked elsewhere,” he explains with a smile. “Go ahead, try it on.”

Y/N slides the ring down her finger, a perfect fit. She looks up at him, eyes brimming with tears.

“Why?”

The answer is simple for him, “Because I love you. It has been hard without Merlin. He was always who I looked to for guidance, afraid of any misstep I would possibly make without his advice, but with you, I’m not afraid. You’re so encouraging and loving that I believe I can trust myself and make my own decisions and they won’t lead to chaos somehow. I look forward to each day because I know you’ll be there. I can’t imagine life without you in it, and I never want to. I realize asking to be with me for the rest of your immortal life is a lot, but-”

“Yes,” she answers, finally letting the tears fall. The biggest smile she thinks she’s ever had spreads across her face.

Douxie lets out a mixture of a laugh and a gasp of surprise. “Really? Hold on, I don’t want this moment to be me in a bucket the whole time,” he jumps out of the bath, quickly drying himself and tugging on a clean pair of pants. His hair is still wet, leaving droplets of water on his shoulders. Then, he walks in front of Y/N, picking up her hands again to bring them to be his chest. “You’re sure about this?”

Y/N waves her thumbs over his fingers, feeling an overwhelming sense of happiness, “All I’ve ever wanted was a family. People and a place I can consider home. I thought I had found that with Morgana, but I was wrong. Who I really found it with was you. You and Archie are my family. I love Archie dearly, and I’m so in love with you. An eternity with you still doesn’t feel long enough.”

Now it’s Douxie who’s crying tears of joy. This has to be one of the greatest moments of his life. He gets to be with the love of his life forever and always. He picks her up effortlessly, spinning her around while the two joyously laugh and squeal. Still in the air, Y/N grabs onto his face to pull him in, capturing his lips in a kiss. Douxie sighs into it, not able to properly kiss due to him not being able to stop smiling. They come apart, still holding onto each other and giggling like teenagers.

“Ah, so he finally did it. He’s been worrying about it ever since we moved here,” Archie says, doing his well known habit of waltzing in unannounced.

Douxie lets her down, facepalming at his familiar’s interruption. “That was supposed to be kept a secret, Arch.”

“Apologies. But really Doux? In the bath? Even I could’ve thought of something more grand than that.”

“Why you little-”

“How was your dinner, Archie?” Y/N says before Douxie can have a go at him.

“Absolutely delightful, you truly are amazing Y/N.”

Y/N thanks him. As Douxie and Archie continue their snarky banter with one another, she can’t help but feel so content in the moment. She realizes that that loneliness she used to feel before will never come again thanks to these two. She may have had to defeat Morgana in the end, but she will be eternally grateful for the gift of love she granted her.

#douxie x reader #douxie imagine #hisirdoux x reader #hisirdoux casperan #douxie casperan #douxie #tales of arcadia #married!douxie #at the end of the century #hisirdoux casperan x reader #douxie casperan x reader #trollhunters

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cross-d-a · 4 years ago

Note

Pass the happy!💖 When you get this, reply with 5 things that make you happy and send this to the last 10 people in your notifications!

(I have decided that Discord notifs count because I love you dearly and wanna hear what makes you happy)

HELLO!!!! I love you and I kinda really needed this and I think you know that so thank you!!!!! I love and appreciate you SO MUCH!!

Also I've literally been thinking about this post for two hours and so I'm not gonna stick to just five- I'm gonna list MORE than that because I wanna remind myself that there are many wonderful things in the world to be happy about and also PICS!! I'm adding PICS bc I CAN!!!!!!!!!

under the cut bc it gets LONG! :)

1) YOU make me happy, Sierra!!!!!!! Also @s1utspeare and @vishcount and of course my bff @haru-tl !!! You guys are so fucking incredible and talented and AMAZING!!!! I love you all SO MUCH!!! You always make my day!!! And all the dmbj peeps!!! I am so lucky to know so many wonderful people!!!!

2) as long as we're on the subject of people- I absolutely can't leave out my coworkers!!! Literally some of the best people I've ever met in my life. I have so much fun with them. I can always count on them making me laugh.

Like today, we were talking about this reptile house a few towns away and my manager was telling us about their cool anaconda exhibit where you can crawl under the glass tank and watch them eat and she mentioned their teeth being scary. So I googled Anaconda Teeth and went WOAH THEY'RE COOL and our Resident Snake Expert came over and went actually that pic is from the movie Anaconda. And then he helped me find Real Pics and the teeth were even COOLER. I left the Google search up on the work computer and a couple hours when I was on lunch I heard Mike exclaim: "I had NO idea that ANACONDAS had TEETH!!!!!!" Which?? MIKE?? WHAT??? Hahaha everyone burst into laughter :)

3) my cat BOOTS makes me happy!! He's always asking for belly scritches and he drools when he's happy. Here's a pic bc I adore him:

4) my new baby boy So Mun from The Uncanny Counter makes me VERY happy!!!!! He's just- the Sweetest Boy to have ever Baby'd!!! I adore his little crinkly-eyed smile and curly hair!!! He's just so GOOD it makes me cry!! Also!! Disabled rep!!!!! LOVE HIM!!!!! Look at his lil' FACE:

and bc he is Unfortunately Very Hot in his mourning outfit:

adding this too bc LOOK AT THAT ADORABLE SMILE I wanna SCREAM

5) my Pangzi necklace makes me happy!!! I have an Iron Triangle matching set, but the Pangzi one I first put on bc of Brigid's Pangzi chapter for Swiftly Tilting and then I kinda just- never took it off haha. It's just so pretty and makes me feel like I've got a bit of Pangzi with me at all times. I love that man SO much and if I can be even a fraction of how wonderful he is, then I can die happy

6) the smell of the sea makes me happy!!! It makes me feel refreshed and relaxed! I live by Puget Sound and on very lucky days I can smell it at my house! Tonight was a lucky night! I came home and it smelled like the seashore, so I kept my window open as I folded laundry :)

7) my new collection of Kpop CDs makes me happy!! It's entirely bc of Vish's influence and I LOVE her for it!!! The packaging is just so pretty and I always love being able to hold things that give me Good Feelings in my hands :)

8) since we're on the subject of COLLECTIONS, I love to collect things!! And one collection of things that makes me happy are my books!! I have- too many. Working in a bookstore makes it too easy to buy them! But seeing the bright spines on my shelves gives me delight. I particularly really like my queer manga collection!! I've got four whole shelves of it! :) I'd offer a pic but I'm too tired to go upstairs, haha but I love the art and the representation 🌈

9) I ALSO really love all the figures I collect! Seeing characters that I love on a daily basis makes me happy. I usually decorate my bookshelves with them. One set that makes me particularly happy are my Pingxie ones. They look like they're getting married and it delights me:

10) another purchase that is entirely bc of Vish (I ADORE you!!) is my Chimmy blanket!! He's just so adorable and bright and coming home every day to see him waiting on my bed makes me very happy

11) yet another bright yellow thing that makes me happy is my dmbj Xiao Ge coaster!! It's so sparkly and fun AND it's a friendship coaster I share with Sierra!! We've got a matching set, babe!! I love you!! Let's just shake them around and be distracted by the sparkles forever!!

12) coming back to work from my weekend to find a bunch of manga to shelve always makes me very happy!!! Buying/pricing/shelving manga is my favourite thing to do at work! I love seeing familiar and new titles!

And it's interesting to see how prices can change if it goes out of print! Sometimes every single book in a series but ONE is the same price. Like last month we had a series where like/ volume 8 was worth $250 vs the regular $7.99 for the rest of them. And someone BOUGHT IT!! Things like that can happen randomly. It can be bc it was a smaller printing for that particular volume. OR something special happens in it (new character appearance/fan favourite story arc/BOOBS), so more ppl want to keep it which means it's harder to come by (and then sellers raise their prices BC it's difficult to come by). You usually see the collectible value go up for out of print BL or older series like Aria or Lupin III. Not everything that's out of print is collectible, but it's always interesting when it is :)

13) DAY6's The Book of Us: Gravity has graciously given me a big serotonin boost the last couple days!! It's just- I dunno! Uplifting! Catchy! Full of energy! :)

14) similarly, I've been listening to Close Your Eyes by Isaac Hong almost exclusively for like- five days now! It's from The Uncanny Counter and it makes me very happy! It's very emotional and just reminds me of my baby boy So Mun :)

15) sunshine makes me happy!! I'm at that point in the year where I don't want rain anymore, just sun! So it's always nice having my windows open at home with the sun shining through. Or the back doors at work propped open while we go about our day. It's almost impossible to feel sad when you get to bask in the warmth of the sun and smell the nice fresh air

16) finding weird random books at work makes me happy! It's so fun seeing the kinds of things people read! And sometimes you find cool ephemera in the things people sell to us that they don't want back. Like- look at this pic from an older fortune-telling birthday book I found. She is 1000% Drowning Him and I love that for her :)

17) reading manga makes me happy. There are just so many wonderful and ridiculous series out there. There really is nothing "too weird to publish" in the manga world. I was reminded of this the other day when I discovered a series about a girl who timetravels and finds out that her soulmate is a Neanderthal. You can literally find a series about ANYTHING in the manga world and I love that about it. There's no limit to the imagination and there's something for everyone :)

18) when I'm in the mood, writing and drawing make me happy. There's just something about creating that really just- fills the soul :)

19) making playlists makes me happy!! I love having playlists for characters and relationships and fics and even specific fic chapters or moods or going to sleep! (And rec playlists! Like Vish's :) ) It's just- so satisfying having the Perfect Playlist on hand! Plus it's fun actually making them- like figuring out the mood/lyrics and what they fit into :) I listen to music almost constantly, so this is essential! :)

So thank you Sierra!! It was nice to remind myself about a lot of different things that bring joy to my life!! I love and adore you SO MUCH 💖💖💖

#cross talks #ask #ask game #kinda?????????#good stuff

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satan-chillin · 3 years ago

Text

Hereafter (3/7)

Wei Wuxian is sent off of Cloud Recesses, bade by his fathers to “have fun and make friends” which, now that he thinks about it, sounds like a gross oversimplification of what the next six months away from home will entail.

If he happens to form unlikely connections, start a matchmaking, and gets unwittingly involved in the presently strained political state of the cultivation world, those are just par for the course.

Chasing after one of the famed Twin Jades of Lan, however, is an added bonus.

(Or, WWX was sent to Gusu by his fathers Wen Kexing & Zhou Zishu)

Part 2 of Spirited Away Series. Part 1 here.

Also available in Ao3. Hereafter Chapter 1, 2

❆❆❆

The scowl Jiang Wanyin was throwing at him was really uncalled for.

“Is that face supposed to be anger on my behalf or...”

Jiang Wanyin scoffed. “You wish. You’re obviously in the wrong here.”

Wei Wuxian was tempted to smack him if his back wasn’t aching (and itching) as hell. He rolled his eyes. “Throw me in the ditch, will you. At least Nie-xiong thinks—ow!”

“Don’t move much,” came Nie Huaisang’s warning from the other side before dabbing a wet cloth at his back. Wei Wuxian was pretty sure they were both wincing. “And, well, you were guilty for taking the sacred Lan forehead ribbon, Wei-xiong.”

“Fine,” Wei Wuxian grumbled. “In my defense, I didn’t know it’s that important. Are those ribbons made from special silk or something?”

“It has always been part of their tradition,” Jiang Wanyin said, crossing his arms unrepentantly. “Even if it doesn’t make sense to anyone else outside their sect, we respect that as their guests.”

Chastised, Wei Wuxian pouted but did not retort. He understood Jiang Wanyin’s point, and he could imagine a-die’s disapproval that he might have taken it a little too far. Wei Wuxian let the matter go. “Fine, that’s on me, but I didn’t start the fighting!”

He was certain that he had planned to get some air the previous evening to lull his bones to sleep. He’d been delighted, in fact, when Lan Zhan had pulled up short, though he seemed to have gotten it in his head that Wei Wuxian was due for a punishment and not even the fun kind. All that for sleeping late as if Lan Zhan hadn’t been doing the very same thing, and pointing it out broke a bit of that surface calm that had Wei Wuxian defending himself the next moment (or trying not to get hauled, really).

The ruckus and noise that followed resulted in… this.

He hadn’t been disciplined this bad since a-die had him running twenty laps around the manor. He was also sure that the only one suffering was him; Lan Zhan being a Lan was definitely used to this, though he would have to have been unruly himself to develop a thick skin to withstand the strikes.

Wei Wuxian was hard-pressed not to think too much of a porcelain back lined with red—er, not in present company, at least.

“What’s that expression for?” Jiang Wanyin asked haltingly.

“Heh. Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“That better not be another trouble in your mind. Look, carrying you back once is enough. I’m not looking forward to doing that again.”

“Speak for yourself. Nie-xiong can carry me.”

“Ah.” NIe Huaisang chuckled nervously. “I’m not exactly as strong as Wanyin to do it often, Wei-xiong.”

“See?”

“Pft. You’re just jealous you’re not the one being tended right now.”

“What’s that supposed to—A-jie!”

Wei Wuxian found enough energy to turn around towards the ajar door and found a young woman entering with a tray of food that smelled delectable. Jiang Wanyin closed the door behind her and helped her down to where he previously sat.

“Good morning, Young Master Wei. I apologize for barging in like this, but I heard what happened from A-Cheng and thought to bring some soup over,” she said kindly. “It’s a shame that we haven’t been introduced before. My name is Jiang Yanli.”

Wei Wuxian hid a grimace as he sat up and pulled his thin robe over. It wouldn’t do to appear indecent in front of a young lady. He bowed as low as he could. “It’s an honor to meet Maiden Jiang, even if this one is unfit for the company of a maiden.”

He knew he liked Maiden Jiang when she returned his smile brightly, waving off his apology before serving him a bowl of what she called lotus soup. “I’m guessing the three of you haven’t had the morning meal,” she addressed the three of them. “I made enough for us.”

Jiang Wanyin wasn’t exaggerating when he had called his elder sister good-natured, and it was clear why he loved and admired her greatly. She reminded Wei Wuxian of shijie Xiaolian, in fact, with both their caring and motherly nature. She closely treated Nie Huaisang like another younger brother, and based on how concerned she was over Wei Wuxian’s back and empathetic of his situation, she was probably considering him as a new addition.

Wei Wuxian wouldn’t mind, to be honest, but Jiang Wanyin probably would.

“Don’t spoil him much, A-jie,” he reminded her once she began peeling lotus seeds for Wei Wuxian. “He can move his hands.”

“I don’t mind,” Jiang Yanli told him gently. “A friend of A-Cheng is my friend too. Besides, this is the first time I’ve met the person you speak highly of.”

Wei Wuxian snickered at the sudden red on Jiang Wanyin’s cheeks. “Aiya, Jiang-xiong, you never told me,” he couldn’t resist teasing. He inclined his head. “You know, I never quite figured out why you seemed opposed to me spending time with Nie-xiong before, but I think I know now why.”

“If the next thing that will come out of your mouth is another nonsense you can forget it,” Jiang Wanyin replied shortly before offering to clean up and marching out with the dirty dishes. Nie Huaisang excused himself, muttering about fetching another basin of warm water but following Jiang Wanyin’s direction.

Maiden Jiang smiled impishly after them, eyes alight with something like a secret only she was privy of. Once left alone with her, Wei Wuxian stood, not without difficulty, and set about making a pot of tea for her. She looked startled and was about to protest about not needing to be served but thought better of it once she considered their new distance where she now sat across from him. If it was even possible, her ever-present smile softened. She thanked him, both for the cup of tea and his thoughtfulness.

“A-Cheng can be prickly to most,” she began conversationally, “but he’s a good person who finds it hard to express himself. Before, he only had A-Sang who was determined not to be shaken off. I’m glad he has you now too.”

Wei Wuxian grinned toothily then sighed, feigning disappointment. “To be fair, Maiden Jiang, when he told me about you, I thought he wasn’t actually picturing his sister,” he mock-whispered. “Now, though, I understand that you racked up all the patience and left him a sour grape.”

Her clear tinkling laugh was infectious. “I suppose that makes him more suitable for our colors,” she jested. “But you haven’t seen A-Cheng with his dogs, Young Master Wei. He loves them dearly, and they’re his first friends. They must be missing him as much as he misses them.”

“Ah, dogs,” Wei Wuxian repeated weakly. They must be as nice as Maiden Jiang, and Jiang Wanyin, thought of them, but he couldn’t help but repress a shudder. “Are they… cute?” he asked lamely.

“They are. Energetic and very cuddly too.” Maiden Jiang—bless her soul—did not point out the abrupt awkwardness. “I love them as well, but I find that I’m partial to cats. A-sang once brought one with him from Qinghe when he visited us.”

Cats were alright, he thought. There had been a female tabby that his shixiong liked to feed and had shown Wei Wuxian her kittens when he was a child. It had been one of his early memories in the manor, and he told as much to Maiden Jiang who happily listened about his childhood at Four Seasons. It was likely that she knew as much as her brother, though she made no mention of it, telling him instead about her days as a little girl in Lotus Pier and how she had taken up culinary, learning from the head of the kitchen who had been like a grandmother to her.

“Young Master Wei,” she said, “I’d prefer it if you call me Yanli.”

“Only if you call me A-Xian.”

“Very well… A-Xian.”

❆❆❆

Although he was a little better, Wei Wuxian was embarrassingly waddling come afternoon. To make matters worse, he had the misfortune to come across some sniggering peers who followed a haughty-looking young master who barely spared Wei Wuxian a glance before walking the path without pause.

Unexpectedly, though, Jiang Wanyin took a minute to properly greet the young master who merely acknowledged it with a curt nod. Rude.

Wei Wuxian raised an eyebrow. Jiang Wanyin simply muttered, “Prancing peacock.”

“You know him?”

“Who doesn’t?” He rolled his eyes. “Right. That’s Jin Zixuan.”

“I gathered as much,” came the dry reply. Wei Wuxian had made it his mission to memorize as many names as he was able, and he had started with the names of the heirs of the major sects. “I never thought you knew him personally since I’ve never seen him with you or Nie-xiong. I guess you sect heirs have an inner circle.”

“Would’ve been better if we only knew each other in passing,” Jiang Wanyin huffed. Annoyed, he supplied, “He’s A-jie’s betrothed.”

Wei Wuxian blinked at the direction where Jin Zixuan and his lackeys disappeared to. “Huh.”

He had only met Yanli earlier, but already he felt a protectiveness toward her; such a lovely and kind person better be treasured by her future spouse.

Wei Wuxian’s eyes darted once he caught sight of white from his periphery. He noticed Zewu-jun approaching, smiling. “Young Master Wei, Young Master Jiang.”

He could only return the greeting in embarrassment. He hoped that smile wasn’t a dig at his state; after all, he did commit what must have been comparable to a crime to his younger brother.

Gods, that sounded dirty.

Lan Xichen, blissfully unaware of what was going on inside Wei Wuxian’s head, said, ”I honestly did not expect to see you moving about today, but I’m glad to see you well enough to walk.” As if sensing Wei Wuxian wanting to say that it hurt all over, he added, sounding apologetic. “Uncle is strict, but his punishment is worse than necessary. It can take you a week and a half to completely heal.”

Wei Wuxian internally winced. While he wasn’t overly enthusiastic with the lectures—oh, he loved learning, and, truly, that was the only thing motivating him to wake up early and tolerate Lan Qiren’s droning voice—he really didn’t need the dent on his studies.

“I’ll let you know of a place that will help you heal faster so you won’t fall behind in your schooling,” Lan Xichen said. “Nonetheless, I’m pleased to see that Young Master Wei is being taken care of by his friends.”

“It’s kind of Nie-xiong to tend my wounds,” Wei Wuxian said happily. “Young Master Jiang might be getting a little fed up, but I admire his patience, and because of him I get to know Maiden Jiang and her cooking.” He nodded sagely, completely aware of Jiang Wanyin’s growing embarrassment. “I also believe that he’s waiting for me to heal to beat my ass for getting spoiled by his sister and Nie-xiong.”

It was funny how Jiang Wanyin struggled between wanting to throttle him and smack his back and debating whether it was worth it to do either or both in front of the esteemed Zewu-jun.

❆❆❆

The place Lan Xichen mentioned was a stream by the backhills, easy to miss with the light mist that surrounded it. A cold soak could be what he needed.

Wei Wuxian ambled by the bank, untying his belt but stopped when he caught movement in the water. He squinted.

It was Lan Zhan. Naked from waist up.

“What are you doing here?”

He was also murderously glaring at him.

“Zewu-jun told me about this place.” Wei Wuxian cleared his throat, his eyes admittedly lingering at the expanse of skin that seemed to go on indefinitely… and where angry red marks marred his back. As someone who was inflicted with the same punishment, Wei Wuxian knew it was as bad as it felt.

He reached for his sleeve, taking out a small pouch. “Believe me when I say I didn’t know—” He fell silent. He wasn’t planning to return it this soon; later, maybe, after his bath. “I shouldn’t have snatched your ribbon. I’m sorry.”

A flurry of pale cloth completely hid Lan Zhan’s torso from his sight, though he still refused to turn in Wei Wuxian’s direction. He sighed, removing the fan from his waist and propping his sword by a rock. Hesitantly, Wei Wuxian dipped his toe on the water, shivering at the frigid contact.

His soaked robes weighed him down as he trudged further into the cold water, slowing at the progressively slippery smooth stones under his bare feet. He bit his lip, grateful that Lan Zhan’s back was on him or else he’d see how utterly ungraceful he was just to reach him.

“Here,” he said awkwardly, extending the pouch. Lan Zhan determinedly ignored him, though there was an unmistakable pinking at the tip of his ears. Not knowing what to make of it, Wei Wuxian clicked his tongue and clarified, ��I have your ribbon inside.” He frowned suddenly, feeling an odd shift in the water. “Wait. Lan Zhan, do you feel that?”

As soon as the words left him, a strong current took him by his ankles, dragging him underwater, and Wei Wuxian knew no more.

#fanfic #fanfiction #shl fanfic #cql #chen qing ling #mdzs #untamed fic #crossover #wangxian #wei wuxian #lan wangji #the untamed #word of honor #wwx gets adopted by wenzhou

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honeylikewords · 4 years ago

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C, k, w. For whoever you wanna write for.

Thank you! I decided to experiment and go out on a limb with this one and try someone new, someone I’ve never written publicly for before: my version of Harvey Dent!

I’ve mentioned a few times before that Oscar is my ideal casting for Harvey (and many people seem to agree; there’s even talk that he was cast for the role in the upcoming Batman movie, but that the role had been cut from the final version of the script), and I just think it’d be fun to play around with the idea.

This version of Harvey that I’m experimenting with is inspired by the Harvey from Batman: The Animated Series and Oscar’s role as Basil Stitt in Lightningface, and is largely based on the understanding that Harvey is a fundamentally good person, and completely capable of healing, change, and growth (i.e. the occasional run in comics or other adaptations wherein Harvey is saved from himself and given proper care and support, allowing him to progress towards health).

Of course, I do want to mention that characters like Harvey are not accurate (nor entirely helpful) depictions of conditions like dissociative identity disorder, and the condition itself is complex and covers a rather broad spectrum of individual disorders and behaviors and experiences, with much dispute in medical and psychiatric communities about classification, origin, treatment, et cetera, and therefore is not something I feel qualified to weigh in on.

That said, Harvey is a character I love and care about, and therefore do feel comfortable writing about him with the intent of portraying respectful admiration and sowing the seeds of wishful thinking for a healthy recovery for him, a happy life with loved ones, and a prosperous future for his character. In that way, my Harvey will be written as having a well-developed support structure and beginning to lead a more healthy lifestyle.

Now, with all that out of the way, here is my first foray into writing out some of my (admittedly lighthearted and possibly OOC) concepts for my interpretation of Harvey!

C = Cuddle (How do they cuddle?):

Harvey Dent is in a strange, self-made bind about physical touch. On one hand, Harvey is desperately touch-starved, viciously craving even the most minuscule of intimacies, aching for something, anything, be it as light as a brush to his wayward curls or a hand on the small of his back; the mere idea of something like being held in a loving pair of arms, safe and steady, makes him fucking dizzy.

But, on the other, deeply marred hand, Harvey is petrified of himself and doubts his capacity for tenderness. He fears that some dark, malicious part of himself lies in wait, hoping to strike when he is most lulled into comfort; worse yet, Harvey is afraid that those he loves and trusts the most will, by some horrible twist of fate, turn against him and hurt him when he least expects it.

He tries to fight against those thoughts, and tries to reassure himself that he would never lay a hand on his loved ones, and especially never raise a hand to someone as precious to him as his sweetheart, but the niggling worm of his anxious thoughts still chews away at him from time to time, and he finds himself avoidant of touch, even if it’s something he yearns for passionately.

Harvey is naturally drawn to physical expressions of love, so telling himself “no” or shying away from something like being cuddled by his beloved feels both unnatural and cruel, and it exhausts him and his patience to try and uphold his self-enforced isolation. It’s like pulling teeth for poor Harvey; all the boy wants is to lay in bed with his sweet girl and feel the warm, solid weight of her against his skin, knowing she is his and he is hers, feeling that comforting press and release of their breaths falling into unison as they unwind together, and he just won’t let himself have it!

That said, as his relationship with his beloved strengthens with time and endurance, Harvey’s trust in her builds, too, and he grows more confident knowing that all sides of him, regardless of mood or memory, care about her, love her, and would never do anything to intentionally harm or frighten her, so their intimacy is able to flow more naturally.

Once they are at a comfortable place in their relationship, Harvey’s beloved goes out on a limb and curls up on the couch, patting the cushion next to herself. Harvey takes a seat and feels her put her hands on his shoulders and gently coax him into a laying position, his head resting squarely in her lap.

She asks if he’s feeling alright-- his solid cheek has turned a deep and detectable shade of warm tan, and his eyes skitter around her face, shyly flitting from feature to feature-- and when he nods his consent, she reaches out a hand and passes her fingers along his hairline, tracing the coast of his curls as they transition from deep brown-black to stark white. Harvey holds his breath, afraid that if he moves even a single muscle, the spell will be broken and she will change her mind, repulsed by his scars, his odd hair, his mismatched eyes, his... everything.

But she does not pull back. She merely runs her fingers across his face, brushing at the crests of his strong cheeks, down his angled jaw, along the lines of his lips. She gazes at him with dreamy eyes, smiling to herself, and she hums, as if distantly amused.

“You’re so handsome, Harvey,” she purrs, using the back of her hand to card softly across the ridges of his scars.

She’s lying, the familiar voice snarls. Lovely little liar, but a liar nonetheless.

Harvey ignores it and turns, burying his face in her belly, unwilling to let her see his flushed face and watery eyes. He takes a deep breath and puts his hands on her back, tugging her into himself, and him into her; he’s going to let himself have what he wants, for once.

From then on, Harvey finds it much easier to take the initiative to cuddle his beloved. When his Id takes greater control, Harvey will sometimes lift his sweet one up into his arms and confidently stride to the nearest cuddling spot-- be it the couch, his armchair, or the bed-- with her pressed to his chest, a cocky smile and waggling eyebrows meeting his beloved’s surprised expression. When he’s more reserved but still craving her touch, he’ll try to indicate his needs by nudging his head against her, hoping she takes the cue and fiddles with his hair, which relaxes him so deeply.

Both are, in their own ways, uniquely endearing to his partner, but she loves when he regains even a sliver of his former savoir-faire and confidence and sweeps her off her feet; it feels like there before her is Apollo Dent once more, proud of himself and proud of his love, and she is always happy to see him grow more comfortable in his skin and around her!

As for how they cuddle physically, Harvey has a few positions he enjoys: he is quite fond of the aforementioned couch position, with his head in her lap and her fingers brushing his hair until he grows drowsy; he likes when she sits on his lap in his tall-backed armchair, reading a book together, her arms looped around his neck; he dearly delights in spooning his darling, stretching his broad arms around her and pressing her tightly to his chest, their bodies adjusting to one another’s curves and planes so naturally.

But of all these, Harvey’s favorite would have to be laying in bed, on his back, with her laying half-on, half-off him, her head on his chest, her hands rubbing up and down his stomach and chest. Something about that combination of pressure and weightlessness, warmth and coolness, space and proximity, just feels ever so right to him, and often sends him into a deep and restful slumber. If he ever needs to melt into comfort, that’s his go-to.

K = Kiss (How do they kiss? Who initiated the first kiss?):

Before his accident, Harvey was a big proponent of kissing. Big fan. Huge. He loves the contact, the intimacy, and the adrenaline rush; nothing made his heart race and his head spin quite as much as winning a massive case or getting a public event under his belt and tugging his girl to his side, planting a deep, excited kiss on her lips and dipping her into suspension in his strong arms. It made him feel powerful and proud, and the kiss sealed the deal every time.

However, in the aftermath of his burns, Harvey’s kisses have had to evolve.

The hunger for them is still there, as potent and all-consuming as ever, but for a long while, he felt that the texture and warping caused by his scars made him, frankly, unkissable, so he avoided the act entirely.

Still, much like cuddling, Harvey grew back into his intimacy and allowed his yearnings to come to fruition, and surprised all parties involved by being the first one to initiate a kiss in this new stage of their relationship.

It happened one day when Harvey was sitting at the kitchen table, poring over a copy of the Gotham Gazette (the Globe, Times, and Daily Planet sitting in a neat pile, waiting their turn to prophesy and portend), running his finger over the rim of his half-drunk coffee cup.

He looked up from an article about the upcoming local elections to see his girlfriend futzing with something on the kitchen counter, tugging out a frying pan and ducking into the fridge. Deciding to mind his own business, he turned his nose paperward once more and returned to scanning the article, though his vision slipped back to her every few sentences or so.

The sound of the stove starting alerted him to her cooking, and he soon heard the familiar shattering of a cracked eggshell, the sputtering of the white hitting the pan, and the scrape of a spatula. Somewhere else in the kitchen, the toaster popped, as did the lid of a jam jar.

By the time Harvey had finished the article and flipped over to the sports section (ever the avid follower of the hometown baseball team, Harvey wanted to check in on the Gotham Knights’ standings), he saw his beloved round the counter and join him at the kitchen table, sliding a plate behind his paper.

He folded the paper at the median and peered down: there, on the table, were the eggs (soft scrambled), the toast (mid-doneness, teetering on dark, spread with a dark red jam speckled with seeds, indicating to Harvey that it was, in fact, raspberry), a pair of small sausage links, and a glass of orange juice.

Blinking, Harvey looked up from the plate and over to his girlfriend, who was now back in the kitchen and preparing a second round of toast. He pointed down at the food, then cleared his throat.

“This yours?,” he rasped, voice still a little rusty from misuse.

“Nope. That’s yours,” she returned, working a butter knife into the furthest crevices of the jam jar. “I don’t like seeing you just having coffee for breakfast. Makes me worried about your blood sugar levels.”

Harvey paused.

Then he stood up from the table, likewise rounded the counter, put his hands on either side of his girlfriend’s hips, turned her away from the jam jar, and kissed her squarely on the mouth.

The kiss only lasted a few seconds, but it was long enough for her to slip a hand onto his cheek and cup him close, and for Harvey to move his hands to the small of her back, rocking her body closer to his. He breathed in deep through his nose and broke the kiss after a beat, lips separating with a light ‘pop’, and pressed his forehead to hers, smiling to himself.

He could hear her breath stutter and shake in the aftermath, and when she regained a stable pattern, she made a small, re-centering noise, halfway between an “ahem” and a “whooh”, then put her hands on his chest.

“What was that about, hon?”

“Nothin’,” he managed through his puppyish smile. “Thank you.”

“It’s just eggs and toast,” she giggled dizzily. “I suppose I’ll have to see what happens when I make you dinner!”

At that, Harvey chuckled, nipping her bottom lip with his teeth.

“I suppose you will,” he reiterated.

Again, much like cuddling, after that, Harvey began to allow himself more kisses more often.

He’s a fan of taking his beloved’s chin between his thumb and forefinger and tugging her up for a deep one, but equally pleased by pressing a light kiss to her temple before she heads out the door. He adores kissing her, slow and hungry, while they relax and enjoy each other’s company, or quick and fervently in brief spare moments of privacy. Every kind of kiss delights him.

Still, when he gets sensitive about things like his face or lips, and the texture thereof, he’ll ask her to only kiss the unscarred side of his face or the unburnt corner of his lips, which she’ll, of course, agree to do, but all the while remind him that his scars are no affront to her nor a deterrent to her kisses.

“They’re perfect lips,” she reminds him, even as she acquiesces to kissing just the unmarred portion of his mouth, “both sides.”

W = Wedding (When, how, where do they propose?)

Marriage was a concept Harvey found himself more intimidated by than comforted by throughout most of his life.

Harvey feared becoming someone like his father-- tyrannical, abusive, cruel and callous-- and trapping someone, inescapably, inside his own self-destructive world through the bonds of marriage, and often feared that if he grew too attached to his partner that she would, like so many before her, discover his flaws and abandon him, breaking his heart irreparably. He feared growing worse and worse with age, feared locking himself into something he couldn’t commit to, feared lashing out and hurting someone he had promised to protect and provide for; he feared what could happen to her if something went wrong in this terrible town, and if he did something that might set her up as a prime target through which to punish him.

Still, through all his fear, the idea of marriage floated in his mind, congealing and solidifying as a concept the longer he loved his sweet girl, the more he thought about her as a fixture of his life. It didn’t seem reasonable to ask her to stay, to bear all his burdens alongside him, to struggle with him in the dark places he fell into, but at the same time, some selfish, childish urge inside begged him to keep her and claim her, to make himself part of her life inextricably.

Harvey fretted back and forth over the matter, waffling between extremes; it didn’t help that his personality shift had allocated his loyalties so unusually. While his Id, manifesting as Harv, was designed to be self-preserving and independent, Harv also was possessive and uncompromisingly loyal to his beloved, unwilling to even contemplate the idea of not having her in his life: Harv, though categorically opposed to any social strictures, was as dedicated as a married partner already to his one and only, and utterly determined not to share her.

Harvey, the more balanced Ego, was a proponent of the idea of marriage but petrified of the consequences of his possible failure to perform in such a bond, and thus went back and forth on his potential spousal value, torn between the love he felt for his dear one and the anxiety he encountered at the idea of letting her down.

In summary: Harv believed marriage was a sham but he’d do anything to keep his girl his to love, and Harvey believed marriage was a sacred bond of love but feared he’d fail as a spouse as his father had failed his mother all those years ago, throwing the two halves into conflict and a restless oscillation of opinion on the topic.

Still, there was, thankfully, no rush for them to come to an immediate conclusion: Harvey’s girlfriend had no problem with their relationship as it stood, and was perfectly happy to just be by his side, loving him and caring for him as he loved and cared for her, while assisting in his recovery and reintegration into everyday society. There was no hurry for some big, life-altering change, nor any pressure to push towards “the next step”, as it were.

That, however, did not change Harvey’s internal struggle on the topic, which came to a head one day when the couple was on the couch, Harvey’s hair being finger-combed by his doting dear as she watched some home restoration show idly in the background.

Harvey gazed up at her face and listened to the couple on the screen talking about bay windows and a portico and something something crown molding and “our budget of blah blah thousand dollars”, and began to imagine the process of buying a house.

He imagined it was very, very stressful-- after all, even trying to nail down an apartment in Gotham, District Attorney’s position and salary to his credit, was difficult-- but likely very gratifying. Owning a home, a place to call one’s own, to share with someone you loved... it sounded nice, in a sort of saccharine way.

Somewhere inside, Harv made a retching sound, but internally agreed that it did sound rather nice. Owning things did always appeal to Harv.

Harvey’s mind wandered to the idea of moving in with her, somewhere quiet and old, a fixer-upper with rooms to paint and floors to re-carpet and sconce lights that made everything look eerie and Victorian but in that nice, warm way. He pictured her sitting in a room full of boxes and unspooling packing tape, wearing one of his old NYU hoodies and “practical shoes” for moving day, smiling at him over a package of plates. His heart soared.

“Hey,” he rumbled. She looked down, curious, fingers stilling in his hair. “Would you ever...”

He trailed off, wondering if there was a non-embarrassing way to ask what he was thinking.

“Would you ever... want to... if you... had the choice to, uh, would you want to... live with me for the rest of our lives?”

Harv and Harvey both cringed.

There was a pregnant pause as Harvey stared up at her, bated in his breath, as he waited for her to respond. He watched her face, still at first, slowly spread into a knowing smile, her eyes warm and glittering with promise, and observed her as she bent down and pressed a light kiss to his forehead. Sweeping her hand across his brow, pushing his hair back, she nodded and twirled a curl of his shock-white hair around her index finger, springing it loosely.

“Mhm,” she hummed. “I would be very happy living with you for the rest of our lives.”

Harvey nodded slowly, reaching a hand up to stroke the fullness of her cheek with his calloused, burned hand, admiring the softness of it that he could still feel, nerve damage be damned. He pinched it slightly, causing her to giggle and tug lightly on the curl still wrapped around her finger.

“It’d make me... very happy to see you every day,” Harvey stated. “Forever. You know.”

“I think I get the idea,” she laughed, bending down to rub her nose against his sweetly. “I would be very happy seeing you, too, Mister Dent.”

She hovered her lips above his, tantalizingly close, and Harvey slipped a hand up to the nape of her neck, brushing the sensitive hairs there.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

And with that, he tugged her down.

Though it was by no means a proposal, nor even the promise of one to come, it satiated both halves of Harvey for the time being and soothed something inside: he knew, inherently, that she meant it. She did want to be with him. And he hoped that his intention to live a life dedicated to her, ever-loving and ever-loyal, was somehow, even slightly, conveyed by what he’d said.

But, for now, in lieu of a proposal, this would do.

Thank you for asking!

#long post #messages #anonymous #oh my goddd i stayed up way too late on this BUT i told myself i needed to finish an actually long piece of some media somehow so. here we g #anyway now im tired and going to bed see y'all later #harvey dent #original #please dont show this to any actual diehard comics stans theyll eviscerate me

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writerproblem193 · 4 years ago

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So, it’s been a decade to the day since I started writing if I track from when I first started writing a novel at 11, though I wrote a few short stories for class before that. In those ten years, I’ve written 806,886 words.

353,706 of that is novels in various stages of completion

144,054 of that is in original short stories

309,126 of that is fanfiction

106,400 of that is for Supernatural

100,386 is the fic Ben’s Clues which isn’t even counting the two oneshots in the same universe. This was written in about nine months when I was 15

108,336 words of that is Carmilla

46,506 of that is Star Trek, across the various Treks

39,887 of the Star Trek is for DS9

35,556 of the DS9 is for Kira Nerys/Jadzia Dax

Honorable mention goes to Maximum Ride, my first fandom. I wrote 8253 words of fic on Max-Dan-Wiz

All this fiction writing also helped me in my continuing battle with university. For university so far, I’ve written 117,681 words. This is... not counted in my total fiction writing total. This is as WELL as that. Also, I don’t have a way of finding + calculating all the words I wrote throughout high school but I don’t doubt that it was a LOT.

In no particular order, a list of Most Notable and favourite things:

Ben’s Clues, my longest fic. It’s 100k of delighted nonsense focusing around Ben Braeden from the early show and an OC. This story has: bringing Gabriel back, some very funny “well I certainly want to grow up more functional than you” commentary on Dean, the use of black contact lenses to fool demons, evil cars, and evil YA novels.

Steal Your Heart, my original novella. I posted it on Wattpad WAY back in the day, and I still love it dearly. This story has: close family, straightbaiting, revenge, way too many Avengers references in retrospect, and a girl who wholly perceives herself as a weapon.

Even The Stars They Burn, the Carmilla Star Wars AU that came out all in one burning rush. It’s a series that ends with I’m Giving You All My Love, where the characters (and me) finally begin to heal from trauma. This story has: Laura as Anakin the disaster angst Jedi, Carmilla as Obi Wan AND Padme aka Laura’s wife who’s force-sensitive, a plot arc that I still am in awe that I wrote to this day, and some beautiful art by arthkael.

Untethered is the other story (also Carmilla) that came out in that kind of rush. I wrote it in one nine hour dash, including in the car on my way home from school. This story has: time travel bullshit, identity nonsense as they run across each other at different points in their own histories, me doing the “I made it worse then made it better” angst thing, and two girls in love across 400 years.

sealskinned, a Carmilla fic that is one of the few stories I’ve written that properly captures my obsession with water/merpeople/eldritch ocean energy. It’s also the first (and only) fic to get a podfic from someone else. This story has: selkie AND mermaid mythos, kindness and love being what defeats the ultimate evil, lesbians falling in love in a cabin on the sea.

Vampire Hearing, my Carmilla Big Bang epic that I wrote even as I ran the Big Bang itself with @elenaglbert. I’m proud of being able to put together such a long story. This story has: making out to pretend you’re not spying on people, vampirism + hearing loss as interconnected, bargaining with goddesses for life, refusing to give in, and soft dumbasses.

Otherwise Occupied and Counterbalance, twin DS9 stories that have a thesis of Fuck The Government, except one fic is directing that at Bajor and the other fic is directing that at Trill. These stories have: gays in space, exploration of what exactly it means to want to fuck up the government, healing from trauma, and SO MUCH found family.

what, then, could she complain of, except that she had been loved? a story based on Orpheus and Eurydice in original mythology. It’s the story I’m proudest of that I’ve written this year. This story has: deaf!Eurydice, Persephone as an ally to all women, an exploration of being loved vs being taken for granted, and “what if he DIDN’T look back and fuck it all up?”.

Obviously not all of my writing is up on the internet, but a lot of it is. My original work is on AO3 under the pseud Pingoodle, and the fanfiction under my main pseud ThatAloneOne. Both of these names were chosen WAY back at the beginning of this writing adventure. I think @elenaglbert aka Lanie is the only person who’s read everything I’ve written or like, 99% of it. Most of the stuff she hasn’t read is the stuff that requires an INCREDIBLY shattered brain to read and enjoy. You know who you are if you’ve read those ones. Anyway, it’s been a wild damn decade and I can’t say I’ll keep up the pace because a LOT of this was frontloaded and written when I was a young teenager who didn’t have to worry about capitalism but I’m certainly not going to stop writing anytime soon.

#writing #mine #laniemoriarty #personal #truly horrified by the fact that I wrote all this stuff in just a decade honestly #if I had some way to quantify writing in this time period for school you can BET that it would put it over a million words #and that is if I may say: too many words #anyway today's writing advice is keep ALL of your writing so that ten years from now you'll be able to make incredibly granular breakdowns #of all the bullshit you've created over the years #on my list is to try and figure out a year for most/all the stuff I've written #so I can chart that #but anyway yes holy shit that's a LOTTA words @me

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popculturebuffet · 4 years ago

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Close Enough Reviews: First Date and Snailin’ It

We’re in the home stretch thank god! Seriously while I do love this show, doing 13 reviews in one day, even as most are easy to bang out, has been exausting. But the thank god is also because we’ve arrived at my faviorite episode so far and.. er another one but at least it has Noel Fielding! That’s really awesome! This time around Josh and Emily try to recapture the magic of their first date only to end up in one of the good Blumhouse movies, while Bridgette brings Josh along on an awkward first date. Then Emily gets the help of a snail’s magical hat to juggle work and life. Snail yeah under hte cut.

First Date:

A fourtune teller is at the fourplex, another review of the series I recently read revealed that’s what their buildings called and I like the sound of it so i’m using that, predicting a weird romance for bridget, who belivies it’s a guy she’s been texing, and sometimes sexting in her words not mine, who she has a date with tonight while said psychic also reveals to Emily that things with her and josh have gotten bland, something emily realizes via a hilarous flashback of them making out while falling asleep repeadtly before both just conk out. Also randy has thunder pants, aka pants tha tmake thunde rnoises and have a giant lighting bolt cod piece. Your the second best randy. Andt hat’s only because Alex is still a character.

So we have our two plots and unlike previous episodes and one future one the plots.. don’t dovetail. Which I like and I like a show being able to do two seperate plots in eleven minutes. We frankly need more of that. Bridgette has her date and Josh and Emily end up having theres. As such i’ll cover both seperatley. And since their plots a bit simplier let’s start with Josh and Emily. Emily tries flirting with Josh before explaning it’s because she wants to bring the spice back. After josh bungles his response trying to say what she wants but just.. you know asking emily what she wants him to say which is never a good move in any conversation, Josh does near instantly rebound, texting emily to come to the close tfor a suprise. Granted since Josh, self admittley right after, admits he has no game, it come across as weird and creepy, but Emily appricates him trying and is touched when he reveals his real bring the sparks back romantic plan: a recreation of their first date, which was at a haunted house. Also for some reason Josh thought mr magoriums wonder emporium was a best picture contender. Never change josh, never change. But I genuinely like this: having a couple that while relaistically having a dry spell still lvoes each other: instead of worrying the relationship is dead as these plots tend to do they simply want to bring back the magic that’s sometimes lost when you work two jobs, raise a kid full time and live with two weirdos with little sense of personal space. So they go and the reason it’s pretty simple is their subplot is the two having a mind screw being chased by various horrors in the house. As i’ve said I feel the series has more of a horror bent at times with some episodes leaning more into that than just goofy madness like regular show did. Regular Show really saved most of its straight up horror content for terror tales, here horror bits can crop up as much as fucking wacky bits. I mean a logan’s run parody where a man dies is paired up with a low speed train chase with a con arist that ends with her driving into a thermortor factory while choking her fake son. The show can ping pong on tone, but it does work. But yeah that’s why there’s less to talk about: it’s not bad stuff, it’s super spooky including the end bit where their told they died, it’s just mostly the two of them running around a nightmare, that unsuprisngly turns out not to be real and was just the attraction, before a really touching climax when the two finally find each other run towards each other and realize just how horrifed they were at the thought of loosing one another. it’s really damn touching and romantic, and leads to another climax when the two start kissing before getting it on despite the horror house working telling them they have others coming. I’ts a good plot, I just don’t have a ton to anlyaize about it. it’s just really good and really good horror stuff with a satsifying and sweet ending. On to our main event, Bridgette heads out to her date and TRIES lying to alex for his own sake.. but Alex not only easily guessed she was on a date in the first place but... isn’t bothered at all. He even offers to wing man while sining the firends theme song and clapping at the wrong time. Because he’s alex even when he’s being sweet and a good friend and ex, he can’t help but be just a BIT off. Bridget goes to meet Ron.. and finds he’s sewn to his ex Joy... like literally sewn or conjoined as they put it. Bridgette freaks the fuck out but is talked by ron into continuing, partly because their getting it undone and partly because Bridgette herself admits Ron looked past her baggage.. even if his is larger, she can at least try to. Also Ron is voiced by Chris Parnell who, with archer delayed event hough i’m watching it again and having stopped wtching rick and morty, I dearly missed. Glad to have you back dude. I’m also unsuprised he’s in this as the man is in everything. He’s a fucking workhorse.

Anyways Alex happily agrees, has his own brief freakout because bridget didn’t tell him about the conjoined twins thing despite being a room away, but quickly rebounds and.. actually hits it off with Joy. even better than Bridgette is with ron who she soon realizes won’t shut the hell up about hiking. Soon Bridgette.. is jealous. Both because Alex is moving on way easier and found someone way quicker, Joyce shares his weird taste in viking erotica, and because she may still have some feelings left. We saw a bit of that in “Robot Tutor”: Bridgette got jealous real quick when alex saw someone elsed espite them being there mostly as sex pals, and admitted there was still some unresolved stuff there they hadnt gotten past on both sides. They hit the club and things continue to degrade, with Bridgette even more jealous because Alex never took her dancing. And being that bridg is a musician and loves clubbing and what not, i’ts pretty understandable to be frustrated with her ex talking about how it took someone else to get him to do the worm.. also Alex doing the worm is a sheeer delight. When the cojoined ex couple leave, with Ron once again bringing up climbing machu pichu because apparently it’s in chris parnells contract he can never play an actually likeable romantic intrest, Bridget tries to bail but Alex wants to stay since it’s not his fault his date is going well and her’s isn’t. Bridgette makes the mistake of saying “If you like joy so much why don’t you just conjoin with her”.. and Alex being alex says “why dont’ I and we end up at conjoin, the place Ron and Joy got bonded in the first place. Ever since 1994, you won’t regret this. Actual signs up there and they are wonderful. Bridgette, still jealous even ifs he can’t stand ron offers to be conjoined to him both in a desperate attempt not to losoe alex and to one up him. However Alex finally calls her out, as while he’s perfeclty happy for her to move on, as this episode showed.. she can’t stand to see him with someone else, and Ron wisley tells her he can’t be attached to someone who isn’t unattached from her ex. When bridgette counters with the oppsitie ron is suprisingly pogniant “We can detach from each other physically but you two can’t detach from each other spirtually”. WHile bridgette quips about him finally saying something intresting, he’s right. She’s not ready and this night clearly proved it and even if she was she was only doing this to show up Alex. Joy likewise breaks things off. a bit more abrubtly since Alex has’nt been nearly as obvious as bridgette.. but alex himself shows he too still has some feelings when he accidentlya dmits to having written an entire section of his memoir about her teeth. Would could be creepy or you know, standard alex ends up really sweet as Bridgette is not only touched by the gesture, but Alex explains why “THeir all the parts that make up your smile” The two share a look, Joy wants what they have and Ron wants to masturbate alone. The end.

Sadly this isn’t followed up on yet, if at all if there isn’t more episodes next week, as the next ep with the two in it, the finale for today, has the two in seperate plots that only dovetail at the end. But this honestly feels like a posisble arc for the show; Will the two get back together and work past the issues that got them to divorce in the first place or stay divorced and move on? And regular show, with one exception i’ve ranted enough about and will again, was really good at romantic storylines eventually and this could be really intresting for a number of reasons. I’m realy hoping this isn’t just a one off ending, could be but we’ll hopefully see. Either way this episode is really damn good with both plots , while not intersecitng connecting thematically: ONe couple relives a horrifying mirorr version of their first date while a former couple goes on their first real date with other people since the split but finds they might not be as done as they thought. IT’s a good juxtopision and the whole conjoining bit is both horrifying and good Beisdes having my ship at the center i’ts just a damn good time and the best of the season so far (or at all atain the 8 episodes thing is really throwing me off).

Snailed It: This one should go quicker as its a much simpler ep: Emily has been working way too much and neglecting Candace, including a crypt based board game they’ve been playing for her job because she’s being a doormat. however i’ts not unresonable since said job gives them health insurance which given their lives, they REALLY need. She’s being such a doormat because she’s understandably afraid if she stands up for herself it could risk her job and they’d loose important stuff. Emily TRIES to juggle things by doing a charity garden/publicity stunt to distract thigns at the school btu the comination of extra work from her boss and the children not actually gardening makes it fail and candace more upset. Emily finds help in the most unlikely of places: A giant talking snail that offers to let her use his magic hat to speed up time and complete the garden in exchange for some of the veggies. He’s also voiced by nice dude and mighty boosh alum noel fielding in what hoenstly feels like a boosh character got out of that universe, if their not the same unvierse which is possible, and snuck into this one. Emily accepts, and is tempted to use the hat to do more of her job, with the snail calling her a shit parent. Fuck you man, sh’e sa good mom she’s just making mistakes. Emily decides to do it anyway and it works but she soon finds out using the hat outside the garden ages her while the snail decides fuck it and kidnaps candace by aborbing her into his stomach and making her be his legs so he can get dumplings because why not. What follows is a horrifc and tense chase between the two as candace’s life is on the line and the snail has a backup hat and emily time blasting him only makes candace age or deage, horrifyingly becoming a fetus at one point and a teenager later. It’s ar eally tense well done seen that combines the show’s usual insanity with it’s horror side to great effect Meanwhile josh feels useless since his job is less important, and he feels less important as he’s on call and skipping rocks with randy because apparently that’s what he does on call. Randy gets a great moment though, explaning to josh that h’es like the stones their skipping: he’s immoible and seemingly useless most of the time but when it matters he’s there . He’s there rock. Their support.. and naturally with emily slowly dying from her hat, a rare sentence, Josh steps upa nd saves the day via stone skipping, emily throws the hat in and the fundraiser, due to the madness, sucesffuly buired the scandal and Emily finally tells mr salt no.. and he’s really cool about it just telling her to come in a little later. Things are back on track and we’re out. This wasn’t a bad one, but it both feels less after the prevoius episode and somehwhat simple comaprd other emily centreic episodes. WHile the snail is a great villian and noel fielding, like rich fulcher before him, fits into this kind of world nicely. Not a bad one, just one sandwitched between two far more interesting episodes. Speaking of which, we’re in the endg ame now. Next time it’s dog days and weird fucking al baby, until very soon later days.

#close enough #hbo max #jg quintel #first date #snailed it

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