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undermattsun-archive · 4 years

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taste

(skate rat) kawanishi taichi x fem!reader | w.c 3.5k

a/n: SURPRISE it’s a sequel to mouth <3 my original skate rat sin i suppose, and also like my first real fic/drab for the fandom. god bless. as always thank u to @bakatenshii + @sugardaddykenma for putting up with me ranting about this fic (and also putting up with me since mouth)

big big thanku to #1 wife @pomsuki for reading this for me and yelling at me to finish this damn thing <3

18+ university age | pls read ALL warnings

warnings: drugs, public sex, dub/noncon exhibitionism, degredation, humiliation, dubcon, blood, slight injury (it’s a bloody nose), toxic behavior, misogynistic energy? vibes? you’ll know when u see it honestly

reading mouth isn’t necessary but it is appreciated! and pls check out melt + nightingale syndrome for they exist in the same skate rat universe (+ they’re delicious fics) also the people who wrote em r BIG SEXY

There were more than enough reasons to quit Kunimi Akira. He never texts back, he doesn’t go to class, he’s fucked a few of your friends and he couldn’t commit if you paid him. He was simply a waste of time, it was like every second spent with him was another mark ticked off a test, a percentile lowering on your next paper.

But chucking Kunimi would be like trying to sort grains of rice, difficult and damn near impossible. He always knew how to draw you back in and he enjoyed the mind games a lot more than his bored expression would let on.

Despite the impossibility of quitting him you had to at least try, so you swore up and down that hooking up with him at Oikawa’s party some odd months ago was truly the last of it, that you were done with him and all of his irritating skate rat friends.

Which begs the question of how you ended up at the little concrete amphitheater on campus, sandwiched between Hanamaki and Matsukawa on one of the steps, a blunt being passed between the two of them without so much as a second glance towards you.

“Say, when’s the last time you and Kunimi had fun?” Makki’s grin is nothing short of lascivious, a slimy feeling weighs on your tongue as you shrug off a shudder.

“Say, was that ever any of your business?” You retort, snatching the blunt from his lips bringing it to your own and inhaling deeply, revelling at the warmth creeping down your throat and filling your chest.

“Quit it Makki, she’s not gonna fuck you. Kunimi got her ‘round his little finger,” Mattsun coos, taking back the blunt, “besides, heard she’s a fuckin ice queen in the sack. Boooring.”

A sharp inhale keeps you grounded, the sound of Iwaizumi’s board slamming back down onto the pavement reminding you where you are, who you’re with. You’re not going to fall for Mattsun’s little games too.

“Tch.” Daggers prick at your lips, but you bite your tongue knowing that fueling the fire will earn you nothing but a headache. It’s not like you’re waiting for anything, or anyone, stealing a few more hits and leaving would be the best option.

“Oh? Nothing to say? But I heard your mouth was your only redeeming quality.” You focus your gaze on Iwaizumi telling Oikawa to stay out of his way, trying not to let your growing discomfort scare you away. The stubborn refusal of letting Mattsun’s words win only letting a dull ache grow at the base of your skull, prickling further when he and Makki let out low mocking laughs.

“Hey fucknuts!” Your head whips over to see a blur of crimson race by, followed gradually by a few other familiar faces you’ve seen around at parties and on campus.

“God, not these assholes.” Makki laughs as Oikawa makes faces at one of the newcomers. Your eyes drag across the unfolding scene as the number of rowdy idiots grows. You swallow hard, knowing that staying any longer would only cause your headache to further bloom.

“That’s my cue to leave.” You sigh, it’s not like you were waiting for Kunimi in the first place. You weren’t. You were just...killing time.

“Leaving?” Your head tips back to look up at the source of the question, Kawanishi Taichi, of course.

“Yeah, dunno why I’m here in the first place.” You brush off his quirked brow and shove Mattsun hard with your shoulder as you stand up. With a curt nod, you smooth a hand over your jeans, turning on your heel to brush past Kawanishi, ignoring the low whistle that falls from his lips. You make it a good distance down the walkway before the sound of crunching footsteps behind you prickles at your ears as you ready yourself to tell whoever it is to get lost.

“Want a ride?” You let out a huff as you look over your shoulder to see Kawanishi standing so nonchalantly, hands tucked into his pockets as he chews on a toothpick.

“Shouldn’t you be skating around with your little boyfriends?” The comment slips out, followed by your tongue sliding over your bottom lip as if it’ll soften the sharpness of your tone.

“Nah, just droppin 'em off,” his eyes rake up and down your figure as you turn to face him, “where’s yours?”

“My what?”

“Your little boyfriend. You were waiting there like a lost puppy for him.” A protest rises in your chest, curbing it when you see a flash of something akin to flirtatious teasing in his normally passive eyes.

“I... I don’t have one.” The words are slathered in honey, punctuated with a flutter of your lashes as Kawanishi takes another step forward.

If Kunimi likes playing all those stupid games, why not play a few of your own?

“Is that so?” His head tilts slightly, you feign shyness, fiddling with the hem of your shirt as you smile sweetly at him, confirming your statement with a nod of your head. “My car’s just over in the parking lot.” He tips his head in the direction of the closest lot, before turning to start walking. Without hesitation you easily fall into step beside him, trying to dampen your rising nerves.

Despite the dumb little hookups peppering your dating history, you had only gone so far with most of them, Kunimi being one of the few —and the only one you crawled back to— that you had made the unfortunate pleasure of going all the way with. You keep pushing away at the thoughts of inexperience as Kawanishi approaches an old, beat up, black Corolla, the paint flaking off with dings and dents littering across the body, the impeccably shiny rims on the wheels making you snort.

It was a rather famous car across campus, seeing it around with stupid skate rats crammed in there with the windows fogged with smoke was an almost daily occurrence, especially highlighted by how it’s tied to one too many stories of girls having varying encounters with Kawanishi –and sometimes one of his friends– in said car.

“Wanna smoke or skip to the real fun?” He never minced any words, always up front or just completely skipping out on the conversation. It always made him the best project partner in the odd classes you’ve shared over your uni years.

“I don’t like waiting.” The fuzziness nipping at your spine from the few hits you took earlier were just enough, not wanting to dull your senses completely during this encounter. The bluntness of your answer causes a smirk to play at Kawanishi’s lips as he opens the door to the back.

“Well then, ladies first.” He gestures to the gray cloth seats, you make a point to ignore the questionable stains littered across it as you slide in, trying to focus instead on figuring out the heady scent permeating through the car. Cheap cologne, cigarettes, weed and maybe stale beer, and something that was distinctly him.

Your eyes are drawn to a stain on the roof that looks oddly similar to an eagle, the thought unfinished as Kawanishi practically dives in after you. The sound of the door slamming preempting hands roaming over your body and lips moving against your neck.

“Kawa-”

“Just Taichi.” He clips as he works the buttons of your jeans, a coarse hand working against your spine as he unhooks your bra.

“Eager much?” You laugh as he pushes at your shirt and bra exposing pert nipples to cool air, simultaneously managing to work your jeans past your hips and down your thighs.

“You said no waiting.” With a chaste kiss to your lips he’s maneuvering you onto your stomach, raising your hips in the air, face shoved halfway between the seat and door. You let out a huff as your hand braces itself against the door, while the other on the seat below you, trying to find some semblance of comfort in the cramped setting.

“Mhm.” It’s the best reply you can manage as he grinds his clothed cock against the cleft of your ass, already hard. You can only imagine how many women he’s had in this situation to award all six feet and three inches of himself the ability to move so successfully around in the cramped backseat.

Nimble and worn fingers circle around your hip, dipping down to tease at dampening lace, eliciting a soft moan from you. You push back against him, delighting in the soft grunt he lets out as he curls himself over you to scrape his teeth over your nape. His fingers continue to run up and down against your clothed cunt, pressing at the growing slick spot marking your wanting hole.

“Excited huh?” He mumbles as he skims his tongue against the shell of your ear, you manage a low hum in reply as he slides his hands back up, tugging down the flimsy piece of clothing, exposing your needy cunt to hungry eyes. He wastes no time pressing his fingers against your twitching hole, causing you to wiggle your hips just enough to earn a low chuckle and send the message of just how much you want him, need him.

Without any further hesitation he slips in a finger, your back arching with the realization his fingers are longer than Kunimi’s, chest burning at the fact you could even think of another man in this situation. As if he can sense your wandering thoughts Taichi works in another finger, another following quickly after. There’s no urgency in his movements, each twist and thrust of his fingers methodical, curling in just the right way, making sure to brush his thumb over your throbbing clit to send a stinging pleasure up your spine.

You can’t deny the way he’s taking you apart so sweetly, the tightening deep in your belly achingly sweet, as he starts to thrust his fingers even deeper, tiny gasps and whines starting to grow louder and louder as you careen towards bliss. With a particularly rough curl of his fingers you feel yourself come undone completely, punctuated by a shameless moan.

The sound of knuckles tapping against the fogged glass pulls you out of your blissful haze, still acutely aware of the way Taichi has his fingers lazily twisting inside of you.

“It’s open.” He tugs you back by the hips slightly as he retracts his fingers painfully slow, listening as he unzips his jeans. Your heart races as the passenger door opens, shifting uncomfortably to try to catch a glimpse of who’s slid into the car.

“Oh, so that’s where you went, Mattsun said you were hanging around.” Your blood runs cold, your state of undress tightening your chest as you become painfully aware of the situation you’re in. The passive tone of Kunimi’s voice nips at your skin, tears away at the search of mindless fun that you had tried to pursue with Taichi, filling your chest with raw embarrassment.

“What do you want?” The tear of a wrapper following the question, whatever protest you had silenced by a hand coming down to grip harshly at your ass.

“You have my grinder.” Kunimi slips into the passenger seat, the sound of the glove box popping open making your eyes squeeze shut.

“Yeah well close the door at least.” Your eyes widen at Taichi’s statement, you didn’t want Kunimi to just close the door, you wanted him to leave.

“Whatever. Can I smoke in here?” It doesn’t sound like much of a question, more of a declaration with the ‘can’ and the question mark tacked on for decoration.

“I don’t care, do you?” You crane your head just enough to catch the blasé expression on Taichi’s face, a quirked brow directed more at your ass than you.

“Yeah sweetheart, care if I’m in here while you’re whoring yourself out?” Kunimi scoffs, the irritated tinge to his bored tone making you furrow your brows.

“Oh fuck you.” You start to rise on your elbows, only for Taichi’s hand to land between your shoulder blades, keeping you from moving any further. You let out a huff as Kunimi clicks his tongue in feigned disappointment.

“Sorry babe, it’s me who’s fucking you this time around, maybe Kunimi can get the next round.” Before you can even bother with a retort, Taichi drags the head of his cock against slick folds, teasing at your entrance. You let your head hang down, the click of a lighter grating on your nerves more than you would like to admit.

“Please, fuck me, I want it so bad.” The whininess of your voice annoys even you, but if Kunimi wants to stick around and get on your nerves, then two could play that game.

“Since you asked so nicely.” Just like before he slides in slowly, carefully, as if to make you memorize what each inch of him feels like splitting you apart so sweetly.

“Shit.” You exhale shakily as you try to adjust to him, it had been months since you last fucked anyone, since you last fucked the asshole sitting passenger.

He sets a leisurely pace, steady and infuriating. There’s a hand clamped down on your hip, fingers digging in painfully to keep you in place, to establish that he’s the one calling all the shots. You huff, still trying to buck your hips to meet his thrusts. There’s something in his actions that makes you feel greedy, desperate for so much more than he’s offering.

There’s no way around it, you’re completely at his mercy, left taking the shallow, slow thrusts that only makes the desperate ache deep in your cunt grow.

“Hook a finger or two in her mouth.” There’s a pause in Taichi’s motions, letting you finally take a deep breath of the thick weed laced air. “Don’t look at me funny, do it and see what happens.”

You hear a non-committal hum as those devilishly nimble fingers skim past your jaw, a whimper preceding his index pushing past your lips with a harsh tug at the corner of your mouth, the painful stretch of your cheek causing you to clench down on his length.

“Oh? You were right.”

“She’s already broken in,” Kunimi takes a long drag of the joint hanging in his fingers, “no point in holding back.”

It’s as if a flip is switched in Taichi, the statement becoming an immediate challenge as he hooks in another finger beside the other, yanking harshly as the snap of his hips becomes almost painful. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the car, swirling with the heady smoke defiling the air.

“W-Wait Taichi.” The words are garbled around his fingers, and you’re quickly dismissed as he snakes around his other hand to hook his middle and index on the other corner of your mouth, the stretch in your lips burning as he shifts from the quick paced thrusts to deep, hard strokes.

His only reply is to tug harshly on your mouth as pathetic whines and distored words spill from you.

You can feel yourself start to shake almost violently, still reeling from your earlier orgasm and suffering at the hands of Taichi’s now vicious pace. Each thrust pushing you into madness, each tug of his fingers bringing you back.

“Fuck, fuck.” He curls over you again, sloppily running his tongue up your nape. “You wanna cum?”

“Mhmm,” you yelp at a particularly rough slam of his hips, “please.”

He grunts, moving a hand to grip at the back of your head while keeping his other hand planted on your hip, fingers biting into your hip. There’s no warning as he grinds into you, the hold on your hip finally relenting as he slides his digits back down to pinch at your throbbing clit, the bit of pressure sending you careening over the edge.

“T-Taichi.” Pleasure wracks through your body, your legs tremble violently as you try to move your hand on the door, shoulder aching from holding yourself in place. The second your hand moves, you give into the force of Taichi’s hand on the back of your head, forcing you to slam face first into the door, the impact making your nose sting, blood immediately starting to gush, running down your face and chin.

You’re not sure if he doesn’t notice or doesn’t care as he continues his assault, the once careful, methodical thrusts turning desperate and depraved as he moves with reckless abandon. His teeth drag across your shoulder, before pulling out completely.

“Don’t need this.” You grip at your nose, trying to ignore the disgusting feeling of blood seeping onto your fingers, looking over your shoulder again to see Taichi pull off the condom. You can’t even protest with the way you’re bleeding profusely, pinching at your bridge at a poor attempt of stopping the bleeding.

“Stay still.” In one swift movement he’s plunging back into you, bottoming out immediately, a muffled yell falls from your lips, arching your back as he drives into you with just a few more hard thrusts you feel his seed spill inside you.

For a moment you two stay suspended, the head of his cock nudging against your cervix, making you groan in a twisted sense of pleasure of pain. He pulls out painfully slow, delivering another harsh slap your ass as he sits back.

“Oh, sorry ‘bout your nose.” He helps you flip onto your back, swiping his thumb over the blood trickling onto your lip before shucking off his t-shirt and handing it to you. “Don’t have any tissues.”

“So who’d you like playing fuck toy for better?” For a split second, somewhere between the back breaking orgasm and your nose being slammed into the door, you had blissfully forgotten that Kunimi was still in the car, but now that perfect illusion just had to be shattered.

“Must you be such a dick all the time?” You manage to pull your jeans back up, hissing at the stinging pain in your hips and lower back, ignoring the lewd feeling of Taichi’s cum starting to leak from your abused cunt.

Beside you Taichi manages to tuck himself back into his pants, reaching under the driver's seat to yank out a hoodie reeking of weed and cigarettes.

“Maybe you two should just get together already.” Taichi lets out a low chuckle as he pulls on the hoodie, getting out of the backseat, slamming the door hard before throwing the driver’s door open. You don’t even bother trying to hook your bra back on as you pull your shirt down, letting yourself slump back down and lay across the backseat as you reach up to check if your nose is still bleeding.

“Like hell.” Kunimi twists around in the passenger seat, looking down at you with an amused smirk, offering the freshly rolled joint to you. “You look like shit. I said she was broken in, not to break her more.” He only gets a wry laugh from Taichi as he starts the car.

“Thanks, right back at you.” You sit up just enough, looking at Kunimi expectantly. He shakes his head before twisting the joint in his fingers and placing it between your lips, producing the lighter. Just as he’s about to hand it to you he brings his hand back a bit, grabbing your jaw with his other as he lights the joint. He picks up Taichi’s bloodied shirt, pouring water from a twisted plastic bottle onto it before passing it back to you.

“Cute, blew her back out and you’re doting on her.” You watch as Kunimi moves to sit back in his seat, not even bothering to spare you a second glance as he shrugs. You dab away at the drying blood on your face, ignoring a few of the splotches that landed on the joint.

“Guess I play favorites, drop us off at my place.”

“Us?” You exhale after a long drag, narrowing your eyes at the back of Kunimi’s head as Taichi pulls out of the parking spot.

“What do I even get out of doing that?” You can’t help but nod in agreement of Taichi’s statement, feeling yourself growing annoyed at the way they seem to ignore your entire presence.

“You can fuck her again.” Kunimi offers and you almost drop the joint as your jaw falls open at the absolute nerve of the man.

“Excuse me? I’m right here?” The way that neither of them even flinch at your statement, let alone acknowledge it makes you slump back into the seat, begrudgingly accepting the fact whatever you say isn’t worth shit to either of them.

“Hm.” It doesn’t sound like he’s actually considering the offer, but the quick look over his shoulder as he turns out of the parking lot sends a chill down your spine and your stomach to twist.

“Believe it or not, her mouth’s her one redeeming quality.” The two of them snicker, like two old pals sharing an inside joke.

“Shut the fuck up.” You’re brushed off once again as they toss back a few more comments before Taichi stops at a red light, looking over at Kunimi, then back at you and finally back towards the road.

“Yeah alright.”

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maxwell-grant · 3 years

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If someone were trying to make a new character inspired by pulp heroes, but the new character had to be a teenager, what existing pulps heroes should they look to for inspiration?

I'm not exactly in touch with the yoof so I could be off the mark here, but let's talk about teenager characters for a bit.

Now, I could just tell you to look for characters that appeal to you and use them as a baseline and that's probably the best advice here, but if you want the essay and history lesson: American pulp fiction didn't used to market much to teenagers. Teenagers as a consuming market haven't always been the all-encompassing force they are considered today, and the pulps were largely marketed either towards young boys, or for working class men, mostly the latter. This is part of why teenagers tend to show up in these stories largely as sidekicks, which was something carried over to comic superheroes, and part of why Spider-Man was such a breakout hit, because he was a teenage superhero who was not a sidekick.

The biggest pre-1950s traditional pulp hero I can of who was a teenager would be Jack Harkaway, an 1871 penny dreadful adventurer who would go on to be published overseas, one of those characters who was big enough in his day to inspire imitators a plenty but didn't quite make it past a specific time period. Comic strips had plenty of kid or teenage protagonists who are a bit closer to pulp heroes, like Tintin or Terry Lee, one in particular I'm highlighting above is Ledger Syndicate's Connie Kurridge, arguably the first female adventure hero of American comics. Overseas you can find a couple of prominent examples of teenage adventurers published in what we call the pulp era, the biggest and most influential of which being The Famous Five, but as I stated in answering whether Nancy Drew or the Hardy Boys were pulp heroes, these were not published in pulp magazines, instead their direct opposites in glossy and reputable paperbacks.

There are other examples of pulp heroes who were teenagers and not sidekicks, but nearly all of them are very obscure and you will probably not find much material for them. And the thing is, these characters were not made for teenagers. They were made, for the most part, by grown-ups, and for grown-ups, and I can't say any of them ever really grabbed a teenage audience. Usually, it's the 60s as an era that really starts to pander to and include teenagers at the forefront of storytelling, so a good start for you might be to look at what was going on in the 60s-onwards worldwide in the realms of pulp and pulp-inspired works, which probably means you're going to have to look outside of the US.

Another word of advice would be to look up characters that are beloved by teenagers. I don't think "teenager" is a great baseline trait to start building a character, but if that's the number one priority to you, then ideally you should look for a good baseline of what appeals to that demographic, what appealed to you at that age and why. You're probably going to wind up with a lot of anime anti-heroes in your research though, because teenagers are deeply miserable creatures and few things appeal more to them than characters who are miserable but they act cool and badass and edgy about it. Teenagers are forced to live with the miserable reality of being teenagers with little to no upsides, so I think teenage characters could benefit more from being based on the kinds of characters teenagers would ideally want to read about.

So, "cool, badass and tortured character super popular with angsty teenagers", "rooted in and subverting older storytelling traditions for a fresh new audience", and "60s pulp hero". I think Elric is probably as good of a place as any for you to start.

Elric wasn't just popular, he wasn't even just popular with teenagers (boys and girls alike, which is also quite the feat), he was "cool". He was avant-garde, he was the hip new thing on the block. He wasn't Conan or Bond or Batman, and you'd hardly mistake him for a hero. He got the rock albums and fans tattooing him. He was penned by the guy who was openly called the "anti-Tolkien". Elric was Loki before Loki, the edgy anti-hero before them all. The emaciated warrior with white hair and black clothes and a demonic sword who suffered in a cool way, cool in his uncoolness. When I think of pulp heroes who achieved a substantial popularity among teenage audiences, Elric is definitely the first that comes to mind.

Another good example might be Captain Harlock, easily one of the premier Pulp Heroes among manga and anime due to how heavily Leiji Matsumoto incorporates pulp space opera into everything he does. Not only directly influenced by it, Matsumoto even has actual pulp credentials as an illustrator for C.L Moore's Shambleau, Northwest Smith and Jirel of Joiry. The space pirate, while not created in manga and anime, is one of Japan's premier pulp hero archetypes, and Harlock's as good of a baseline to work with as any.

The most popular pulp-inspired works nowadays among teenage or younger audiences are definitely the ones derived from pulp horror, several creators have been getting a lot of mileage these past decades out of plundering and remixing stuff from it. The big ones are Lovecraft and related works like The King in Yellow, but because they soak up all the attention, it also means that people are sleeping on authors like John W. Campbell, William Hope Hogdson, Clark Ashton Smith and Karl Edward Wagner, Nictzin Dyalhis and Olaf Stapledon, and many, many more, which gives you a lot of narrative real estate to work with should you take this direction.

Additionally, one thing that you could consider is that, for a very large portion of the history of pulp fiction, a significant amount of the most popular stories and characters were those that were based on celebrities and real life figures. The biggest of dime novel protagonists was Buffalo Bill, and following him was Nick Carter, a literary equivalent to Eugen Sandow (the Schwarzenegger of his day). Thomas Edison inspired an entire subgenre of dime novel fiction, even Jack the Ripper was a pulp protagonist in Dutch magazines, because sometimes the term "pulp hero" doesn't take the "hero" part much into account.

The precedent for celebrity stories is older than pulp fiction itself, but it was in the dime novels and novelettes and pulps that the idea really found it's footing. The Shadow's exploits took a lot from Gibson's own experiences with Houdini (who himself starred in fictional stories, one famously penned by Lovecraft). Doc Savage was visually modeled after Clark Gable and supposedly inspired on Richard Henry Savage. Eddy Polo, Charlie Chaplin and Tom Mix were the protagonists of several pulps and comic strips across the world, as well as Al Capone (who starred in pulp magazines in Germany and Spain), who fought Nick Carter in a Brazilian story guest-starring Fu Manchu (reportedly based on real figures Sax Rohmer claimed to have met) and Fantomas. Today obviously there are much greater restrictions at play concerning celebrity images, but if dime/pulp magazines were around today, we would have quite possibly seen figures like Keanu Reeves, Tilda Swinton and Lil Nas X either star in their own magazines or be used as models for rising protagonists.

So I guess one other way you could go on about creating a pulp hero, who's either a teenager or appeals to teenagers, would be the route of taking a look at some celebrities that either are, or appeal to those demographics, because if pulp magazines had stayed around unchanged past the 60s and 80s and whatnot you definitely would have seen the likes of David Bowie, Will Smith and Dwayne Johnson get their own magazines. I don't know much about what celebrities are popular with teenagers these days and I'm not about to start caring now, but you could take a look at some icons you like, or liked when you were younger, and think about what made them appealing to think about as characters, and how you could apply that to something closer to a pulp story.

A word of advice would also be that, if you want to make a character inspired by pulp heroes, if you want to create a convincing modern pulp hero, you might want to look less at the pulp heroes themselves and instead those that they were inspired by or working to defy and stand out when compared to. You take the building blocks and rearrange them in a different way. If you have a specific character you want to design yours in reference to, you can send me an ask or a DM about them and I'll dig into my files to give you a few pointers, and what kind of history or cultural predecessors they have that you could take a look at to make something more genuine.

#replies tag #pulp heroes #pulp fiction #jack harkaway #captain harlock #elric of melnibone #bloodborne #darkest dungeon

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colemckenzies · 4 years

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hi do you think older sitcoms are essential viewing? if so which do you recommend? i tried taking your quiz but i'm ashamed of not knowing any of the older ones hahaha

depends on what ur goal is!!! (i assume this is about the US version rather than britcoms just bc statistically that's more likely lol)

personally i like older sitcoms bc a) i just think they're neat :) and b) sitcom history IS tv history IS media history IS modern history. in the us and uk specifically sitcoms are so integral to the dna of the country, theyve been there since the beginning, they're the POPULAR television they're what everyone watched. even when they aren't 'good' they're just so omnipresent and influential that they affect literally everything else.

i also think it's cool as a litmus test for where the country is on social issues. invariably sitcoms were the first things to talk about stuff like race and sexuality (and not in the bland woke points way of modern shows lmao) because they were ALLOWED to because it was a safe environment bc 1. it's Funny so when the topic makes people uncomfortable they get to do Nervous Laughter and it's not too serious and 2. everything in a sitcom goes back to the status quo at the end of the episode so there's no Threat from these Scary New Concepts because it will be gone by the end. and yeah it means there was a lot of offensive shit sometimes lol but in the context of the time there is surprisingly little 'punching down' humour it's more just ~poltically incorrect~ which is better than pretending things just don't exist in the 70s imo. and again because it's SUCH a bland and popular genre it made a huge difference to Normalising things like shows like will&grace and the cosby show weren't perfect but just having them on as this safe middle class (bc yeah if they were going ~~socially progressive they were almost always middle class to make it palatable lol) concept made the middle class white cishets go wow 😌 guess they aren't evil freaks 😌 and joe biden even credited w&g for paving the way to gay marriage LOL which yeah obviously none of this is ideal but i think it's cool and has its place in social history!!

it's also just a cool little time capsule especially in domesticoms to see what people were concerned about at the time. this is especially true for britcoms bc of the whole kitchen sink realism thing but applies to us shows too!! like the episode of the golden girls where the children are afraid they'll die in a nuclear war before theyre adults (ah.. the 80s<3) or in rising damp (uk show from the 70s!!!) where there's a joke about not using aerosols bc of the ozone layer which are like Oh This Has Been A Thing For This Long

ANYWAY that's enough rambling. are old sitcoms essential viewing. if u want to fully understand the modern tv landscape then i think yes (especially shows like community and bojack that are very much About television and its legacy, or shows that are satirical subversions like iasip). but like not trying to be a snob u don't HAVE to lol. if u want to understand more about America As A Country then yes. if u want to find some shows that are genuinely enjoyable if in a different way to modern television then yes. yes <3

idk how old you consider 'older' sitcoms to be but some Academic highlights:

beulah (1950) - so a lot of EARLY early sitcoms were radio shows that moved into the new medium, and two of these shows were beulah and amos n andy, both of which were minstrel shows by white men. but when they moved to tv, they actually cast black actors/actresses for the most part, which i just find.. very interesting?? amos n andy did still use some blackface tho whereas iirc beulah never did. anyway this show was a HIT and was the first sitcom to star an african american woman, and also didn't have a laugh track which was rare in those days. obviously very outdated now but a piece of history!!

i love lucy (1951) - famous for a reason, the definition of tv history, literally INVENTED the flat lighting style that every multicam sitcom uses so they can shoot from multiple angles at once without shadows, genuinely funny physical comedy and vaudeville, lucille ball is the reason star trek got made so we love her <3

the adventures of ozzie and harriet (1952) - there's over 400 episodes of this and ive not watched most of them bc im not Super into it but it's definitely worth checking out as a Historical Artefact. technically a sitcom but also kind of invented reality tv since it's about a real life family playing themselves, specifically the nelson family. as in ricky nelson. ricky nelson the singer. he grew up on this show.

the honeymooners (1955) - this was filmed on a literal stage in a literal theatre and it feels like it. iconic and referenced a lot but i don't really like it :( wham boom straight to the moon

for Full History probably check out either leave it to beaver or father knows best for the middle class white picket fence domesticom but neither are Particularly notable

the dick van dyke show (1961) - one of my favs!!!! notable for blending the domesticom with the workplace sitcom since you see rob at home and at work (he's a tv writer so there's a canon reason for everyone speaking in quips). this show said women's rights for a) making rob genuinely love his wife b) making one of rob's two co-workers a woman and c) mary tyler moore, a new mother irl, saying I Am Not Going To Do The Vacuuming In Heels And A Hoop Skirt Are You Insane and wearing pants <3. v warm and funny show!!!

the addams family (1964) - ok so this show wasn't actually as revolutionary as everyone on this website likes to pretend it was, pretty much the only 'i hate my wife' show at this point was the honeymooners, there had been loving families, there had been non-middle-class-normative families, the munsters launched the same year and was almost identical. HOWEVER still makes the list bc there were a LOT of fantasy sitcoms in the 60s so they need representing at it was genuinely one of the best (but shout out to i dream of jeannie since that's the fantasy sitcom that sitcom textbooks love to use)

all in the family (1971) - ok so norman lear was a bit of a sitcom legend so one of his had to be included and this was really his first. ol norman loved a britcom so this show is actually based on till death us do part but im not convinced they actually got royalties. anyway one of the first SPECIFICALLY political sitcoms, framed as like young progressive generation vs old conservative generation, also one of the first ever tv shows to suffer from Asshole Main Character Is Erroneously Idolised syndrome. also compare w the honeymooners how all early sitcoms abt working class families tended to revolve around arguments :(

m*a*s*h (1972) - having a bit of a Moment on tumblr rn which is what she deserves. there were a LOT of war-based sitcoms in the early days but this one is significant because even though it was about the korean war it was obviously About vietnam politically. also klinger <333 did so much for queer ppl the Types of jokes surrounding his cross-dressing are very important. also the finale is the most-watched broadcast in america in history outside of recent superbowls, the apollo 11 launch, and nixon's resignation, so that's pretty iconic.

sanford and son (1972) - another norman lear sitcom this time based on britcom steptoe and son, with the major difference being the uk ver had white characters whereas this was one of the first (possibly the first??) all-black sitcom since the 50s. which is a lot of pressure. but it was a success and meant there were then a fair few in the rest of the 70s so that 'black sitcom' became its whole own genre, although they were less likely to have ~universal appeal~ and cross over to white audiences

soap (1977) - SOAP MY BELOVED!! cult classic, soap opera parody, historically significant for having the one of the first main openly gay characters and the earliest one that people still care about (because soap operas are another genre that love to tackle Big Social Issues so of COURSE a soap opera sitcom is gonna have one). by all accounts Bad Gay Rep™ but i love him so much <3

cheers (1982) - cheers isn't even the best sitcom in the cheers universe (frasier <3) but it is one of the most watched tv shows of all time so whatever. nothing That notable about it outside of its popularity, though sam/diane was one of the first big central will-they-won't-they plots.

idk if the 90s still count as older sitcoms?? i won't go into depth bc this post is way too long already but most academically notable 90s shows r seinfeld and will & grace, and ig friends (ew)

BUT if u don't care about sitcom history hfjshd here are some more of my fav pre-90s Vintage Sitcoms that i just watch for fun :) (warning i do NOT have good taste i genuinely like schmaltzy trash):

family affair

bewitched

my mother the car

the brady bunch

wkrp in cincinnati

full house

the golden girls

happy days

#im going to pin this post for a bit bc i spent TOO LONG on this for no one to read it #sitcom uquiz #long post

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internalsealpanic · 4 years

Text

Stiff Peaks and Soggy Bottoms

mood board by: @knightfall05x (wuv you)

summary: You, Tim, and Kon try to bake. It ends well.

A/n: Thanks to @littleredwing89 and @multifandomgirl-us for proof reading. I was watching Kitchen Nightmares while writing this. I am surprised how fluffy this came out. You can blame my need for more poly and this piece by @symeona. I have not shut up about this piece 50 years later (Hi Sym *waves*-Fish). I forgot to mention that reader is more or less gender neutral or I attempted.

warnings: Terrible cooking

masterlist

Kon yawns, scratching at his broad chest and running his hand through his tangle of curly black hair. He blinks one eye open successfully to the dim light flooding into the end of the hall likely coming in from the living room. The lights dance, glowing softly with faded color against the dark glossy wood of the floor.

Kon’s first sleep-addled thought is, Oh, Aliens. Ok, cool.

It takes his brain a full minute to realize how much that doesn’t make sense. The apartment is dead silent, lacking the telltale whirring most spaceships give off when they’re hovering, the sounds of nervous fingers tapping against a stack of papers echoing in the mostly empty space. Kon strained his ears trying to focus on the other sounds flitting in the room. He can hear the steady calming beat of your heart come off rhythm, jumping a fraction of a beat faster. It wasn’t fast enough to say you were in danger. It was just fast enough to tell that you were extremely engaged in whatever was occupying your attention. Kon thinks it over. The last time he checked looking over papers- lab reports, especially- was the bane of your existence. He listens again. This time making out the voices coming from the TV. Kon wasn’t awake enough to understand what they were saying.

5:47 AM

Kon groans trying his hardest not to laugh while he stares at his phone. You are an actual psychopath. Who wakes up at 5 AM? Villains that’s who. Did you even sleep? Why do you and Tim hate sleep so much?

Stepping into the living room as quietly as he can, he finds you huddled against the right side of the couch far away from the TV, your thick wool comforter draped over your head and shoulders making a fluffy tent. Strands of your messy bed head sticking out and swaying as you rock on your heels. Your stack of papers long since abandoned on the arm rest beside you. Kon can’t help but smile at how adorable you looked, still sleep rumpled and red-nosed from the cold.

Eyes glued to the TV, you pull up your knees to your chest revealing your fuzzy Red Robin socks. Kon frowns then makes a mental note to get you some Superboy socks later. You curl deeper into your comforter, easing and pressing into the armrest. All of your apprehension fading and relaxing as the rest of the world melted away. Kon smiles devilishly at your inattention. He tiptoes towards you which was entirely unnecessary because it didn’t matter that Kon was about as stealthy as a disco ball not when all of your attention was directed at the TV.

Kon launches himself at you too quickly for you to even react or comment or throw a pillow at him. You shriek as he lands on you, his muscular body squishing you into the couch. You wince hoping the neighbors didn’t hear. You’re not too worried about Tim waking up considering how tired he was.

“Morning, gorgeous.” Kon greets, winking and wrapping his arms around your waist. The audacity. You groan attempting to glare at him. He simply gives you a dopey smile. You have to blow out a raspberry to keep yourself from smiling back. You strain your lips into a flatline. The crow’s feet at the corners of your eyes betray you though. The corner of Kon’s mouth twitches, those big baby blues shining even in the dim light. He knows he’s won you over.

You’re too petty and sleep-deprived to give in. You roll your eyes at him, lips still wobbling and tingling from the effort of maintaining your unimpressed frown. Still, without resistance, you shift the comforter and refold yourself to accommodate his intrusive form. Large arms wrap around your waist tighter as he lays his head in your stomach. How he finds this position comfortable for his neck is beyond you but you do appreciate the warmth. Kon’s smile widens as he looks up at you. It looks positively smug. Your nose scrunches up bracing for whatever Kon is about to say.

“Aw, baaabe, it looks good on you~” You look down at the oversized Superboy hoodie you’re wearing which was two times bigger than it needed to be as was standard of your hoodies. You mutter a curse. Kon had been pestering you to wear it. It’s not that you didn’t want to. It’s just that you had a soft spot for the Impulse hoodie Bart got you a few years ago which meant it was your got-to-hoodie despite the fact that it was fraying. It was in the wash so you decided to give this one a try and honestly, it is really fucking comfy and more importantly warm. You huff at him, feeling your cheeks color. You glare at him, his dopey smile still plastered on his face. You make the executive decision to ignore him.

This decision does not last long.

About two minutes into your silent treatment, Kon whines and pouts weaponizing those baby blues. “Aw come on, gorgeous, you can’t stay mad at me forever.” He nuzzles into your stomach tickling your drawing a smile out of you. He grins at you and finally, you let yourself smile back fully. “Asshole.” You grumble. He knows you can’t resist him when he’s being cute and calling you ‘gorgeous’. That is just plain cheating. Still, you relent. You wrap your arms loosely around his shoulders, running your hand gently through his dark hair allowing your fingers to tangle in his curls. The arms around you tighten a little pulling you closer to him.

Kon doesn’t need a reminder of how absolutely adorable you are but it is very much appreciated. Kon loves looking at you as the soft glowing colors flash across your face highlighting your features and softening them. In the dim light of the room and under the blankets, you press closer to him all the sharp edges of Gotham's alleys stripped away leaving you sleepy-eyed and very huggable. Between you and Tim, you were the one people pointed to when they thought Gothamite but that was the fun of it. He and Tim, they were the only ones who got to see this softer you. The you that you let get enraptured by hobbies and dumb little things. Kon held you close, relishing your presence. This was the version of you they got to keep for themselves and he wouldn't trade it for the world.

-------

Tim shifts feeling either side of him vacant. Tim rolls over, arms searching for either you or Kon as his mind catches up. The warm sunlight brushes over his skin as he rolls over once again, stirring him from his sleep. Tim blinks, eyes adjusting to the morning light.

9: 10 AM

He groans, shifting up and burying his head under the pillows hoping to once again fall asleep.

“Oh no no no no!”

“Shush! Don’t jinx it!”

Tim’s eye cracks open. He lifts his head a bit tilting it to find the bedroom door open, your voices filtering in like dust in a sunbeam, pleasant but ultimately not helpful.

“I can’t jinx a pre-recorded show, genius!”

Tim sighs. Sleep was, inevitably, lost at this point. Tim debates on whether to keep himself under the covers and finally be able to hog the thick blankets. Or he could, possibly, investigate the commotion happening in your shared living room and risk freezing. Sadly, he chose the latter.

Blearily, Tim searches the room for a shirt only to find one of Kon’s discarded on the floor. Well, it’s not the first time he’s borrowed one of Kon’s shirts.

Tim wasn’t surprised to find you out of bed. After all, the idea of sitting still ate you alive. You were always, always the happiest when you were in motion when your hands were working to make something like some part of you was constantly vying for the chance to be something instead of just being. Tim completely understood the feeling.

Kon had once accused you of being a workaholic when in truth at the moment you had been avoiding work by doing one of your side projects. He had also accused both of you of being sleep allergic which is probably true but at least, Tim’s drink (read: poison) of choice was tea and not a cocktail of monster energy drinks and misery.

It was odd to find Kon out of bed though. Kon could laze around in bed for days if you let him, so his being up was worth investigating if only to make sure the apartment didn’t burn down.

“Look what you did!”

“It’s prerecorded, jackass!”

“You cursed him and gave him a soggy bottom”

Tim can tell just how long you’ve been glued to the T.V. based on the way your vowels slant to mimic that of the hosts. Tim’s slightly chapped lips curl as he shakes his head at the way you and Kon cock your heads towards the T.V., attention completely captured by what seems to be a cooking show. You held your breaths, waiting for the judge to say something. Kon shifts up, leaning his head against your shoulder. Your limbs were tangled loosely against each other. It was a rare, lazy sort of affection that never failed to make Tim smile.

“Ok, no. That’s just mean.” You huff into Kon’s hair, looking absolutely petulant and cute. Tim works to stop an ‘aaaaawww’ rising from the back of his throat lest you throw a pillow at his head.

“Babe, it’s Paul Hollywood. What were you expecting?”

“Human decency. She worked hard on that.” You whine, genuinely looking upset.

Seeing, your reaction Kon relents burrowing himself closer to you for comfort. “True.”

Tim turned his attention to the T.V.. What he found made his brow shoot up.

“Great British Bake Off?” Tim asks, sliding into your left side and placing his head on your shoulder. There is a reason you guys bought an L-shaped couch. Said reason was named Conner Kent who liked laying on top of people. Those people being either of you. Tim snuggles into your side, earning him a kiss on his nose. His nose scrunches feeling itchy. He lets out a small sneeze into the back of his hand. You blanch at him while Kon snorts, throwing him a box of tissues from the coffee table.

“Mornin’, Space Case.” You mumble giving him another kiss, this time on the corner of his lip. Tim blushes, his face brighter than the sunlight outside your window. Tim is, sadly, incurably adorable.

Kon smiles at both of you smugly for what neither of you has any clue. Not until you see what Tim is wearing and not until Tim sees what you’re wearing. You groan and Tim blows out a breath through his nose while Kon presses his positively glowing smile into your hoodie. He’s not going to shut up about this anytime soon or ever.

“Do you two even know anything about baking?” Tim asks, crossing his arms over his chest and smoothly changing the subject.

You and Kon share a look.

“Nope”

“Yes”

“Microwaves and watching this show doesn’t count.”

“Ooook, fine. I don’t. Buuuuuut considering none of us can-”

“I can cook.” Tim defends, clipped. You roll your eyes dramatically. Kon smirks, also doubtful. You flicker your eyes to Kon to meet his and with the brief contact, you know you’re on the same page.

“Microwaves don’t count, Tim.” Kon shoots back, pulling himself off you so he can show Tim the full extent of his Cheshire smile. You can see Tim drawing his hackles up, so both of you, being the little shits you are, continue to goad him.

“You can cook in theory,” You drawl, letting the challenge embed itself into the syllables. Tim cuts you a look. You simply look at him innocently. Tim knows that you’re baiting him. He definitely knows this and yet…

“Fine!”

“Fine?”

“Fine. We’ll even make something from the show!”

“Even chocolate eclairs?” Kon says a little too eagerly. You were just gonna say meringues but chocolate eclairs sound fantastic.

Tim throws up his arms and exasperates. “Sure! Why not?”

You and Kon share a dopey smile, smug and preening as you look at him. Tim groans, placing his head in his hands. He knew this would happen. He knew. You and Kon high five and make a little “yeah!” noise in celebration.

This will not end well.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You twitch your lips staring down at Tim’s phone, deleting and retyping the message for the third time. You weren’t sure how to explain this without having Jason falling to the floor laughing. Your eyes stung from the smoke so you decided to just send him your third try.

Tim: Hey Jason, theoretically, say your oven caught on fire like via laser beam or something, do you just pour water on it?

You wait a few minutes, watching the three dots indicating he was typing only for him to stop typing without replying. You make a small noise, which was thankfully lost to the bickering behind you when Jason’s phone number flashed on the screen. You’re always nervous about talking to Tim’s family. Tim had once assured you that you were overthinking it but still. To be fair, it was easier than dealing with Kon’s. Actually, no. No, it wasn’t. Both were intimidating but in very different ways. You do have to say that Jason, scary as he was, was easier to approach than say Bruce.

“Baby bird,” Jason says, the edge of a wheeze gripping his throat. Clearly, having just recovered from laughing his guts out. He breathes, hand slamming against what you suspect was either a kitchen countertop or a workbench or both knowing Jason. “Ok, ok, I’m good-” He clears his throat. “Kay, tell me what happened.”

You flick your eyes toward the fire and your boys who were more or less still bickering, their voices tangling with the crackling of the flames. You’re mildly surprised that neither of them is on fire but you’re not holding your breath. They’ll probably be somehow combust in the next five minutes. You love them but they’re disasters.

“We were trying to bake- shut up-” Jason does not snort any quieter. “And well, Tim thought-”

“It was Kon’s idea!”

“You let me!” Kon defends sounding utterly betrayed.

You groan and Jason snickers. “What do we do?”

“Have you tried apologizing to it?”

“Jason, I’m being serious.”

“So am I. Now, apologize.” You sigh exasperatedly. Waynes are assholes.

Tim raises a brow at you and you give him a shrug not really knowing what to tell him. “Apparently, we need to apologize to the oven.” You deadpan, immediately regretting even relaying it. How have you never decked Jason? It wasn’t fear. After all, you’ve decked Batman. Ok, in your defense lack thereof, that one was by accident or moreover reflexive.

“Hey Kon”

“Both of you have to apologize too!”

“First of all, I was in the bathroom getting towels when you two chucklefucks decided to use laser vision to preheat the oven.”

You hear Jason fall out of his chair. Distantly, you hear someone calling Jason an idiot but you weren’t too familiar with the voice. You instantly thank yourself for not turning on the camera considering what state you three were in. Kon was covered in chocolate, your hair-as well as your poor phone- was caked in batter, and Tim? Tim was covered in everything but mostly flour which keeps making his nose twitch like a rabbit. Though, you wouldn’t be surprised if Kon’s already taken a few pictures. You yourself have taken a few.

“Ok but seriously what do we do?”

You hear some rustling and a chair squeaking back into place.

“No…”

“First off, did you close the oven?” Your eyes flicker to them. Placing Tim’s phone between your shoulder and ear, you mime the advice. Tim frowns skeptical but Kon kicks the oven closed anyway.

“Ok, it’s closed now. Should we put water in it?”

“NO. Have you never put out a kitchen fire before? How do you three eat?”

“We live in the middle of downtown, what do you think?”

Jason sighs disbelieving and finally sounding appropriately exasperated. You could see him running his hand over his face. “Who let you three live together?” This made your lips twitch up. “I dunno. Kon and I just started mooching on Tim and then suddenly we each got a key to the apartment.” It was an oversimplification of events but there was a fire and you had to get at least one joke in.

“Do your neighbors have- Wait, don’t you have a Kryptonian clone with freeze breath?”

You blink and slap your palm against your forehead. The other two seemed to get what you had just remembered and act appropriately with Tim looking defeated and Kon finding the situation hilarious.

“Thanks, Jay.” You mutter wanting the Earth to swallow you whole. Esme, your chubby rat, squeaked nuzzling against you as she wormed her way out of your hoodie. She may or may not have been the primary reason for the size of your hoodies. She smiles at the phone, wide-eyed and happy as if she could see Jason. You hear a soft laugh coming from Jason’s end.

“Is that Esme?” Your brow ticks up not quite sure how to answer. “Uh yeah.” You answer dumbly, giving Esme little scritches that she leaned into happily making all her little happy noises.

“Give her a cuddle for me.” You give Esme a kiss on her nose and she snuggles in reciprocation. Kon pouts face still full of chocolate, “Where’s mine?”

“You’ll get one once our apartment isn’t about to burn down.”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Fresh out of the shower, you plop down next to Tim letting your wet hair flop onto his face and his fuzzy Wonder Girl sweatshirt. Tim huffs at you taking another bite out of the hot fresh-ly ordered stuffed crust pizza. The cheese was still gooey and molten. It made your stomach rumble like nobody’s business. You whine childishly trying to get Tim to hand you one. He looks at you, mouthful of pizza, and grabs one only to hand it to Kon. You gasp at him. You stretch your legs over their laps in protest only to retract them immediately after Kon pokes at your feet a couple of times tickling you.

You hide behind Tim, glaring at Kon and sticking your tongue out. Tim, the traitor, moves out of the way letting Kon’s long arms capture you. You shriek almost sounding like Esme as he pulls you in sitting you in his lap. You sigh in defeat as Kon places his chin on your head. You don’t even want to see the triumphant smirks on both their faces.

You grab a slice and through the mouthful of cheese and grease, you murmur “We really need to learn how to cook.” Tim hums in agreement, leaning against Kon, aka the cuddliest heater in the world. You lean back into Kon as another signature bake is brought up to the judges. You all watch with bated breaths as you wait for the results.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You marvel at the fresh ingredients laid before you and the posh man standing in your kitchen rolling up his sleeves.

“Hey, Duckie, are we in trouble?” Kon whispers from behind you. He’s got your back, he said.

“Kind of?” Tim bleats, his voice a little high.

You snort raising an eyebrow at him hiding your smile behind your hand. “Timmy, what does kind of mean?”

“I can hear you.” Alfred deadpans. You and Kon stiffen. You’re pretty sure even Tim straightens up, probably out of habit.

“Do any of you know how to cook?” Alfred asks in the primmest sounding accent you’ve ever heard.

“Nope, we live downtown for a reason.” You snark reflexively. Tim glares at you and hisses silently. You shrink and mutter an apology which Alfred takes graciously.

“I am assuming you don’t then. Well, it’s lucky that I have a free afternoon.”

Tim eyes him suspiciously. “What happened to B?”

“Your father can take care of himself.”

“You sure?”

You think you see Alfred smile at that.

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Thanks for reading!

tag list: @batarella , @anothertimdrakestan , @lucy-roo , @multifandomgirl-us , @idkmanicantenglish ,@birdy-bat-writes , @boosyboo9206 , @americasmarauders , @l-inkage @arestorationofbalance , @cloudie-skay , @wunderstell

#timkon #tim drake imagines #Tim Drake #tim drake x reader #conner kent x reader #conner kent imagine #conner kent #tim drake x reader x conner kent #timkon x reader #polyamourus pride #my writing #dc reader insert

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theharellan · 3 years

Text

Who Am I in Your Arms?

Written for Stories of Thedas Volume II Pairing: NB!Lavellan x Solas Prompt: Hair

In the aftermath of Wisdom's passing Solas takes the first steps towards moving on from its death, though this time he need not do it alone.

Trigger warning for suicidal ideation and depression / derealisation.

Read on AO3.

Light strains through the open window, highlighting the dust suspended in the air by the morning breeze. With each sigh of wind from the mountains’ peaks it rises anew, kept aloft in perpetuity each time it begins to sink to the bedroom floor. Solas watches from his back as the light that flows through open windows grows longer, reluctant to acknowledge the fast-approaching noon and all the duty that comes with it.

He does not truly know how long he lies there, looking idly up at the ceiling, neither dreaming nor truly awake. From a distance he recognises the sound of Mother Giselle calling to a Chantry Sister and sees the shadow of a passer-by darken the window momentarily, but these notes are brief and fleeting, skirting over his consciousness without room to take root. The doorknob turns, latch unhooking with a click, force of habit compelling him to look. His eyes meet Ian’s as the door swings ajar, and he suddenly wishes he had at least sat up before he’d entered. “You’re awake,” Ian says. Relief quiets the tension he held between his brow, a look too soft to be meant for him steals across his face as he settles beside him, the mattress sinking with a sigh beneath his weight. “I was afraid- I- I was—” As he fumbles with his words he struggles with removing a leather glove from his left hand, finding the thought only when the last finger was wrested from him. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

“You didn’t.”

“Good.” His bare hand leans upon Solas’ cheek, touch cool and calming against his face.

“What time is it?”

“You’re needed nowhere for the moment,” Ian answers the more honest question on his behalf. “I just needed— I wanted to see if you were alright.”

It is an answer Solas isn’t certain he can give neither one way nor the other. He is of sound body and sound mind, and for many those two alone would be enough to suffice. “Thank you,” Solas mutters, having little to offer but his gratitude and an affectionate peck to his palm. Perhaps sensing the answer Solas is reluctant to give, Ian’s smile pinches, straining with concern. Guilt twinges in his gut, and he averts his eyes, penitent. “Ir abelas, Vhenan. I did not mean to worry you again.”

A soft laugh sighs through Ian’s lips, though it sounds sad to his ears. “You don’t need to be sorry, Solas. Not unless it helps.” He recognises the refrain as one oft-repeated to Ian, spoken in his own voice when Ian’s troubles wind too tightly around his heart. To hear it said to assuage his sorrows stings, no matter how much he may need to hear it. The hand at his cheek guides his gaze up, his hollow stare feeling all the more empty when beheld in Ian’s kind eyes. They scan from left to right, reading the expression on his face as though he’d opened up a well-loved book. A thumb scarred by gardener’s shears draws a smooth line across his cheekbone.

Ian’s hand glides around the side of his head, meeting resistance as his fingers cup the back delicately. “Your hair…” he says with a laugh in his breath, a hint of wonder colours his tone leaves Solas humbled. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much of it before.” Fingertips idle along the nape of his neck, moving across the rough beginnings of an auburn hairline, but for Solas’ part his eyes remain transfixed upon Ian’s face. He memorises the way amusement works its way across his lips, until his teeth press down upon them, trying and failing to tamp down his growing grin. Hazel eyes fall suddenly to his and then away, pink shame heating his cheeks. “Sorry.”

Solas rises, detouring to brush his lips against Ian’s, which still bear the impression of his teeth. “You’ve no more to be sorry for than I,” he says, then as an afterthought grazes his hand over his head. A fine layer of hair has sprouted, coarse, like sharkskin against his palm. “And you are correct, it is long past time I shaved.”

“Oh, you— you’re… I thought-”

“That I intended to grow it out?” he finishes Ian’s thought, picking it up where he had dropped it. “No, and I suspect I won’t for some time.” He slides open the top drawer of his dresser and rifles through, not looking but feeling for his razor. Fingers brush against brittle dried herbs and crumpled notes too important to throw away yet irrelevant enough that he does not remember why they are here, rooting through the ephemera of his everyday life before they find what they seek.

“Typically my magic minimises the upkeep, but then…” He thinks back upon the last few weeks, how time bled together and one moment tripped into the next. Hardly a thimbleful of effort had been expended upon the simple day-to-days. “I suppose I have had other matters on my mind.”

Wisdom’s death still weighs heavily upon him. Though he had told the Inquisitor the powers which willed it into being still exist and there may again be a being who called itself Wisdom, it is a cold comfort. The moments they shared are now his alone to remember. In his grief he strains to recall every memory, summoning details of bygone ages, despair curling one cold finger around his heart as their edges begin to blur. Guilt bores into him as he tries to remember what face Wisdom wore the first time they met.

“Solas?” His hand must have lingered too long, his stillness speaking to a persistent pain he struggles to give voice, yet Ian hears it regardless. He releases the breath held captive in his lungs as Ian’s hand folds over his. Their scars align, matching together as alike rhymes in a poem might. “Would you like me to do it for you?” Solas doesn’t answer right away, mind too full of memories to fully feel the present, and in that silence Ian finds the time to doubt. “If you’d rather do it yourself…” he ventures. The hand over his squeezes affectionately, comfortingly.

“No,” he finds his voice. When he tears his sights away from their intertwined fingers, he discovers Ian’s gaze leveled with his own and offers him a thin smile. “No. I’d welcome the offer.”

Before he releases his grip on Solas, he pulls his knuckles to his lips, pressing them against the places where errant magic had marked him centuries ago. He feels the ghost of his affection as he pulls his hand back, thumb stroking the place where Ian kissed him to keep the memory alive upon his skin. “You should sit,” Ian says, motioning with his head towards the empty seat shoved in the corner of the room. It’s as near a command as Ian will ever give outside the Inquisition’s healing tents. “I can take care of everything.”

A simple sentiment, yet ambitious. His first instinct is to doubt, but not all the lessons from the past few weeks left bruises. Trust is a muscle that atrophies through disuse, stretching it again strains even on fairweather days, but he accommodates Ian’s command, sinking into the cushioned stool he works from on quiet evenings.

He watches in silence as Ian takes stock of his tools, hands touching each in succession until they are accounted for. As he pours water into a shallow dish Solas’ throat scratches, realising he had not had so much as a gulp of water since the night before. It is as refreshing on his head as it would be on his lips, however, spread by a wrung out towel across his scalp. Thin streams trickle down his neck and beneath his nightshirt, provoking shivers as they slide along the crevice of his spine.

“You’ve— there’s more here than I’m used to working with,” Ian says, hovering over the instruments at his disposal. “Do I use the oil before or after?”

“Before,” he answers, “I use the cream after.” Out of the corner of his eye he sees Ian nod then reach for a small vial with a glass stopper. He pours a pool no wider than the average silver crown into a cupped hand and spreads it carefully over the top of his head, working the oil into the skin of his scalp. A few deliberate strokes and his eyelids grow heavy, head tilting into the sensation. A small snort of amusement issues from Ian’s nose, but he says nothing. With fingers still slick with a thin coat of oil he rubs along his hairline, feathering coarse hair with his thumbs. It scratches pleasantly in his ears, and he muses to himself if he may be persuaded to keep it at this length, on the condition that it were afforded this attention every day.

It’s a disappointment, then, when his hands at last fall away, busying themselves with the soap. He scrapes a few shavings into a shallow bowl and tops it with water measured with his eyeballs, working with the confidence of someone who has done this before. “These steps are familiar to you,” he notes.

“The last thing any surgeon needs is to close a stray hair in an open wound,” he says, “or to let it cloud your view.”

“I suspected as much.” What faith Ian has in himself lies mostly in his duty, beyond the walls of the infirmary it is as unreliable as the wind, and about as difficult to catch.

“I haven’t… this is the first time I’ve shaved anyone’s head, though. It’s mostly legs, or arms, or beards— sometimes backs.” The thin layer of bubbles quickly stirs to a thick, soapy pillow which rises higher than the bowl it was concocted in. “I never knew how much hair humans had until the Blight.”

The conjured image of Blackwall’s scurrying naked through Skyhold comes to mind, the hair on his back as black as his beard, and he spares a small smile at the Warden’s expense.

He strokes the brush over his head, drawing small overlapping circles across the top of his skull. Foam snaps behind his ears, bubbles burst by the bristles as Ian passes over a second time, leaving no inch of stubble uncoated.

“I don’t… I- tell me if it hurts,” he says. Setting the brush aside, he reaches for the razor, examining the blade against the light for flaws before he’s satisfied, although he waits for an affirmative nod before he dares hold it against his scalp.

It glides smoothly beside his skin, flowing with the grain of his hair. The scraping sound is no less unpleasant as he recalls, but painless. Ian handles the blade with a surgeon’s precision. He watches him from the corner of a hand mirror laid on the desk, every so often his reflection vanishing to wash off the soap and hair built upon the razor’s edge. A look of concentration screws his expression, the boughs of Mythal’s blood bending across his brow. Not so serious as when he works, the faint impression of a smile turns the corners of his mouth. The same lips he ruminates upon the shape of in the pages of his journal, the same smile whose corners he dreamt of kissing. They click apart, and, recognising the beginning of a question upon them, something within Solas sits up straighter.

“How long have you kept it this way?”

Their eyes meet through their reflections. Ian pauses to allow Solas his answer, wiping away the excess of hair dirtying the blade in a discarded cloth. As a question it’s innocent enough, but pries at memories he’d sooner bury. Like too many answers, he’s forced to weigh his head against his heart before he speaks.

“Not as long as you might suspect.” Once it was as long as his memory, and in each thread laid a name, a lesson, a thought. With each tragedy he sheared it shorter, until at last he could bear it no more. “What time I spent on my hair I realised I’d prefer to spend elsewhere.” The lie does not come as easily as he would like, even if— as had all the ones which came before it— it lies rooted in truth. He feels it strain against the knife when he speaks, pressure mounting in his temple, as though daring him to continue with his deception. Ian is quick to retreat, murmuring a soft reminder not to speak when he’s cutting, though he can hardly hear it through the fog in his head.

His first waking breath in this world felt like a dagger between his ribs. He choked on reality itself as he stumbled from his dreams, hair dragging past his ankles, tangled with generations of birds’ nests and hollow around his ears. It should have echoed with the dirge of an empire, but instead there was nothing, and somehow that was worse. His first cut was clumsy, blood dripped down his temple and sank into the creases of his hands, but he persisted. Each time he cut himself upon the sharp edges of the world it felt like justice, even if in his heart he knew it could never be enough.

Ian wields it without malice. The same blade which a week ago might have carved a red necklace across his throat now glides harmlessly over his skin, guided by tender hands that could name all the world’s cruelty but acts with none.

He swallows, throat thick with sentiment he’d believed too numb to harm him. Every day affection like he has never known rises in him like a force of nature, blooming with all the strength of springtime. If some small part of him had ever laboured under the belief that indulging those feelings would abate them, it’s been proven the fool. He loves Ian more now than the day he felt love’s first stirrings behind his ribs, but it does not come by him gracefully.

Love sticks in his throat like his grief. Tears spring into his eyes, the image of Ian’s reflection in the mirror clouded by droplets suspended between his lashes. He holds his breath behind his teeth to keep himself steady, pressure building beneath his chest ‘til he has no choice but to release. The sour, sterile scent of soap coats his nostrils as he measures his breath, careful not to let it hitch. As he hears Ian pause to clean the blade, he turns his face to the corner of the room to disguise his expression in the moments their eyes might meet through the mirror.

Love spills onto his cheeks, hands balling the fabric of his trousers as the first drop splashes his knuckles. The blade’s touch is as soft as a kiss upon his skin, scraping off the shadows missed during their first pass over his skull, and then set aside.

Love sees his sorrow and pulls him back against his chest, narrow arms enveloping him in their embrace.

A high, shuddering inhale whistles through Solas’ nose and though he reaches for stillness, today he finds himself wanting. The world surges forth like the first snowmelt of spring in the wake of an overlong winter, and he can do nothing to curb its strength. He claps his hand against his mouth, too late to suffocate the sob that wracks his shoulders, too weak to stifle the guilt-ridden cry that chases it. Ugly tears stain his cheeks, wielded like weapons to pry undeserved sympathy from the hands of his beloved, despite the effort he’d put forth to quell them.

A kiss crowns his forehead, ignorant of the guilt his grief springs from. An apology hangs upon the tip of his tongue, begging to be voiced and denied its release, knowing in his heart any forgiveness granted will be unearned.

Perhaps Ian hears the intent in the strangled sound he makes, for he moves to assuage his worries. Another kiss adorns his brow as he kneels before him, occupying the space between his knees. With both hands he reaches up and cradles his face between his palms, tenderly swiping away the sorrow from his cheeks. Their eyes meet through the veil of his tears, Ian’s shining with their own sadness as they hold his gaze. When Wisdom was taken, he’d held him just as he does now, until Solas remembered how to coax the air back into his lungs. So much had changed since that morning, and yet so little. Ian looks at him with the same eyes and holds him with the same hands. It is a disquieting revelation, knowing his worth does not lessen the more he is known; all the rage and misery Ian witnessed in him these past few weeks hasn’t lessened the love in his eyes.

From that love a cruel hope springs, born in the part of him which dares entertain the truth. Dares to ask if Ian would show the same compassion to the elf who had woken a year and change ago and mistook the world for empty.

The thought twists in him like a knife, and his expression contorts. Whatever peace he’d found comes apart at the seams, eyes screwing shut as tears spring anew from their corners. He turns his cheek into Ian’s palm, shoulders shaking with the force of the sobs he denies himself. Fingertips bend, coaxing him closer, and he obliges, nesting himself in the crook of Ian’s neck. The scarf he buries his nose in smells like his pipe and he can still bask in the warmth of the sun upon the copper curls that whisper in his ear. The hands that cut the bitter memories from his skin hold him without abandon, squeezing as he begins to weep anew. Protracted sobs wrack his body until his lungs ache in his chest, but Ian’s grip never falters, never fails. In his arms he knows himself as never before.

The shadows in their room narrow as the midday sun passes over Skyhold and the dust in the air mingles with what little hair he’d had to his name, carried upwards by the slightest breeze beneath the doorframe. In the sweepings he sheds his grief and carries forward what remains: his duty, his regret, and his love.

#solas #bi solas #solavellan #dragon age #nb!solavellan #( my writing )#i have found a home in him ( ian x solas )#suicidal thoughts cw #mental health cw #knowledge speaks‚ wisdom listens ( wisdom )#all new‚ faded for her ( quests )#( long post )

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wheres-sam · 4 years

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I binge-watched the spn anime because of the brain rot

It’s bad except for the parts that are good, and it’s pretty to look at. Here’s a comprehensive list of pros and cons. Spoilers ahead!

Pros:

- more psychic kid backstories: Max (Nightmare), Lily (Darkness Calling), Jake (Loser)

- more psychic Sam

- more Azazel

- basically if you want more about the psychic/demon kids, watch the anime

- more young Winchesters

- the monsters, the superhuman abilities, the fight scenes, it all looks really cool animated. (But PSA it’s violent. It doesn’t shy away from blood and gore.)

- Sam and Jessica backstory

- more of the brothers being cute and funny together

- Missouri isn’t forgotten

- includes some Japanese legends/mythology

- the impala looks great in every scene. They did Baby good

- the “Supernatural” intro title

- the outro sketches of the boys hanging out with Baby

- Episodes adapted from the original show are different, but I like some of the changes? It’d be boring if it was an exact retelling and the visual medium wasn’t utilized. (I know I said spoilers before, but this is when they get detailed. If you wanna skip over, I’ll tell you where they STOP.)

Nightmare goes more into the abuse Max has suffered. Instead of locking Sam in a closet, Max sends Sam through the floor and covers the hole by breaking his bed in half, and it’s extremely sexy how Sam shoves the 2 halves apart with his mind. Later on Dean puts bandaids on Sam and they talk about demons loudly in front of a fast food intercom.

In My Time of Dying highlights the guilt Sam feels over Dean. In both the og and the anime John verbally blames Sam for not shooting Azazel, but where in the og Sam goes right on arguing, in the anime he reels back for a moment like he was slapped. Dean’s spirit touches Sam’s shoulder, and Sam knows immediately that it’s Dean. He doesn’t even question it. Instead of “Are you here?” it’s “I know you’re with me. I can feel it.” And I love that. Dean figures out right away he’s dealing with a reaper, and the reaper takes on the appearance of Mary to convince Dean to move on to the afterlife. Instead of a Ouija board, Sam uses a laptop to talk to Dean, and the first word Dean types is “Sammy!” Dean is so fond of his little brother and Sam is so baby.

Rising Son is an anime only episode, but it draws inspiration from John’s journal. Dean has a proper breakdown over his dad’s death and the possibility of having to kill Sam. Ms. Lyle, Sam’s favorite teacher who turns out to be possessed, is explored. John takes Dean hunting, and in the journal Dean hesitates to shoot a buck, and little Sam shoots it thinking it was endangering Dean. In the anime, Dean’s cornered by a moose and Sam makes it explode with his mind and it’s so !!! How little Sam’s first words are, “I’m glad you’re okay. It didn’t hurt you?” The boys are covered in blood and guts and Dean’s like 👁👄👁 “Why are you here? Did you do this?” And then Sam starts freaking out a little, the shock sets in. “I don’t know. I don’t know, honest.” And he’s staring at his hands, and I am a big fan of Sam showing superhuman signs as a kid. Like in the journal, Ms. Lyle tries to take Sam. She gives Sam the illusion of a choice to come with her or stay with Dean, and Sam chooses Dean. This ep is pretty much when John figures out Sam has demon blood. He kills another hunter that wants to kill Sam.

Crossroad is based on Crossroad Blues, and I love how the crossroads demon shows up. It’s hard to describe, but it’s so neat, like she’s walking underneath Dean in this mirror world, and then the mirror world takes over the regular world, so you really get this sense of otherworldly seclusion, existing outside of time.

What Is and Should Never Be shows Dean is a firefighter in his ‘Mary never died’ world, and Sam got to play soccer growing up like he wanted. The brothers hold each other after Dean is saved from the Djinn.

AHBL part 1. When Azazel shows Sam that he fed Sam his blood, Sam gags and slaps a hand over his mouth, and I like that reaction more than the live action. The psychic kids get to go more anime with their powers, and that’s a lot of fun. They don’t need weapons. Ava slams Sam into the brick side of a building and cuts him without touching him. Jake snaps Ava’s neck with one hand and then catches Sam in his arms. When Jake attacks Sam, there’s no gun or knife. He’s relying on his super strength, his fists. Sam throws his arms up to protect himself, and (accidentally?) pushes Jake back with his mind, and the collision creates a crater in the ground. Jake puts his fist through Sam’s chest to kill him. It’s brutal and it’s rad as fuck. These kids are terrifyingly powerful.

The Sam and Dean reunion before Sam is killed is not as emotional as the live action imo, but what the anime does intrigues me. Hurts in a different way. Because Sam is stunned after he uses telekinesis again, on Jake, and when he hears Dean behind him Sam freezes. He doesn’t look relieved to see Dean, but wary and weary. It’s Dean taking steps towards him, not the other way around, and it has to be because Sam doesn’t know if Dean saw him push Jake back. Sam doesn’t know how Dean’s going to respond to all this, to him, having powers that come from a demon, the demon, Azazel. Sam hasn’t had a chance to process anything. He’s scared. He’s tired. And the way the anime focuses on Sam’s eyes here. Gah. “Dean. Dean, I’m...” I’m sorry. I’m all right. I’m glad you’re okay. I’m a monster. There’s also this one shot between Sam and Azazel that sends me because of how anime it is.

AHBL part 2. I love how Sam brought back to life is animated, with all the color returning to his face and a light wind rustling his hair and his lips parting to indicate his soul returning to his body. Jake attacks Dean, and, a lot like how Sam activates telekinesis to save Dean from Max in Nightmare, Sam gets a burst of superhuman strength. He rips Jake’s arm off and tackles him to the ground and beats him to death, punches holes into his body, and it’s so savage and bloody and scary, and I love it. The Devil’s Gate opening looks so cool animated. Same goes for Dean shooting Azazel with the Colt.

Not to turn this into a meta post, but I also noticed how the last couple times Sam uses his powers they’re colored green-yellow, the same colors as Mary’s ghost when she reveals herself in the anime’s Home, and I don’t know if that’s intentional, but it’s neat how it draws a connection to Sam’s biological family instead of Azazel’s blood.

The Spirit of Vegas is like Bad Day at Black Rock, but Dean has all the bad luck instead, and it shows off the silly cartoony physics that make animation fun. The boys sleep outside and split a chunk of bread for dinner. Also this lil bit of Dean’s hair tied in a bow.

- (STOP) the brothers are pretty. I am not immune to animated Sam and Dean Winchester.

Cons:

- Jensen doesn’t voice Dean until the last 2 episodes

- The English dialogue is really bad sometimes. I wish I could’ve watched the sub, but I couldn’t figure out how to change the language

- Some character designs are really different from the live action, and maybe that’s petty, but if you’re gonna change the characters diversify them? Don’t just make them unrecognizable white people

- Missouri’s design as a stereotypical witch doctor is racist

- Gordon is replaced by some British guy named Jason?? Why

- There’s an LGBT character who is not accepted by her family and, while that bigotry is always shown to be negative and she dies the hero of the episode, she still dies ://

- In the English dub Lily’s gf is made into her roommate instead. Idk about the sub

- Bobby’s pretty much a totally different character

- Sam and Dean are OOC sometimes

- Dean’s hair usually looks darker than Sam’s and it drives me crazy

- The storytelling is, overall, not nearly as good as the live action

- The non-Japanese lore in some episodes makes no sense. Sometimes it’s just plain ridiculous?? Like there’s a giant robot made of cars and scrap metal controlled by a demon? ? I wish I was making this up

- Meg’s role is severely reduced

- No Harvelles or Roadhouse

- Shadows are overused, but maybe that’s because the og show is so dark?

- I don’t mind the art style. I like the aesthetic, but I wish it was a little more expressive. It doesn’t do Sam’s puppy eyes justice.

- AZAZEL’S SHADOW?? PROPORTIONS?? PEA SIZED HEAD

- Idk why they mashed season 1 and 2 together? The story feels rushed

- there’s not as much chemistry between Sam and Dean, but that’s a given without J2 on screen

- Nobody tells you!! That there’s scenes after the credits!! And some of them are important! Why are important scenes after the credits??

The anime would not be good on its own, without the heart and depth the live action brings, but it works as supplementary material you can cherry pick from. I would watch more if there were more episodes.

It hasn’t turned me off from wanting an spn anime. I’d like to see it continued or redone, with updated animation and better scripts. There’s a lot of potential in exploring more about the psychic kids and Sam’s powers, storylines that were cut short in the og show. Animation is a great medium for showing off the supernatural, getting creative and creepier with the designs, dramatic with the fight scenes, without having to worry about bad CGI. I don’t want a live action reboot, but I think a redone animated series could be a lot of fun! (As long as it’s not an excuse to make any romantic ships take over. SPN is a platonic love story, and I like it that way.)

If you made it to the end here and are interested in watching the spn anime, you can watch it for free on the CW Seed app! You can probably stream it elsewhere, but idk where!

#spn anime #supernatural #supernatural the anime #my detailed pros is pretty much me letting you know what episodes are worth watching #and why #its bad but I kind of like it #I like what they were going for. the potential it has #I like sam and there's lots of sam

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listless-brainrot · 4 years

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Could haru theoretically accomplish lavabending

okay i’ve technically already answered this but i think it’s pretty interesting so let me elaborate

what’s cool about lavabending is that we now have a Not LOK Example of it because of the new toph comic! so i can actually use that!

the following will basically be my very loose analysis of sorts, as well as observations and connections to be drawn between haru, tyro, and the lavabending presented in the toph comic. i won’t really be using LOK as a reference, because i want to focus more on lavabending as it applies to the atla timeline, as they’re asking about an atla character, but i do recognize and acknowledge the lok lavabenders (ghazan and bolin i believe?).

i’ll put it under a read more for people who haven’t read it yet as i’ll be including comic pages for reference but anyways! time to answer your question:

Could Haru Theoretically Accomplish Lavabending?

so to start, let me recap the comic briefly-

for those who don’t know, there’s this new character introduced in the toph’s metalbending academy comic named sun who turns out to be a lavabender.

this is important because it shows that lavabending isn’t actually as New as we thought (which is a fair assumption given that our first example of a lavabender was ghazan from lok), it’s just pretty uncommon and this kid just happens to have it, using it during underground the earthbending spats he participates in, as shown below:

[ID: a 4-paneled page from the Avatar: The Last Airbender comic, Toph’s Metalbending Academy. the first panel depicts a hand slamming against the ground, dust swirling around it with a sound effect for emphasis. the second panel depicts an earthbender, sun, wearing green and brown earth kingdom clothing, posed close to the ground, palms pressed against the ground as smoking lines of red lava begin to trail away from his hands. the third panel depicts sun in the same pose as before, standing behind a surging wave of lava loudly erupting from the blackened earth, aimed at his opponent, a man dressed in blue and brown water tribe clothing, who stands in fear with his arms raised. there is a crowd of onlookers watching the two from behind a barrier of steel boxes, all dressed in various green earth kingdom and red fire nation clothing. the fourth panel depicts sun on a red-tinted panel, bearing a focused expression as lava surrounds the outer edges of the panel, illuminating his face from below, highlighting his serious expression. his irises are tinted orange. End ID]

here, we can see one of the techniques used for lavabending- there is heavy use on being connected to the ground, though the actual bending seems to stem mostly from the hands, with the stance fueling the movement. it’s also interesting how the lava comes out in the form of a literal wave that is similar to the “earth waves” we’ve seen before, but in liquid form. though sun is touching the earth, the bending is focused on moving the earth/lava away from him.

probably because, yknow. it’s lava. you generally can’t touch lava. (also, how he hasn’t killed anyone with it, i don’t know, especially given that he apparently can’t control it)

i thought this was interesting, because we’ve seen this “wave” move before; in fact, we’ve seen this technique before:

[Image ID: three screencaps from the episode Imprisoned, from season one of Avatar: The Last Airbender. in the first screencap, four earthbenders on a metal rig, dressed in brown and grey prison uniforms, are shown raising a wall of coal, raising their arms above their head and standing on one leg. there is a pile of coal in the background, which katara is standing on. a small group of more earthbenders watch from a distance. in the second screencap, an old bearded man, tyro, is shown slamming his palms against the floor in a bent stance, one leg poised behind him while kneeling with the other. he is wearing a brown and grey prison uniform, and bears a focused expression, mouth open in mid-yell. his son, haru, who is wearing a dark green headband, as well as another earthbender, are shown standing behind him, dressed in the same prison uniform, palms facing downwards, fingers pointed inward. there are other earthbender prisoners watching in the background, standing near a pile of coal. in the third screencap, a wave of black coal quickly descends upon a group of dark red armor-clad nation guards, with pieces of coal flying off in different directions. the front line of five guards are defending themselves from the flying coal, standing with their arms raised to protect their faces. two of the guards in the back stand in firebending poses, holding a fist out while keeping one arm close to the chest. End ID]

look at tyro- he and sun’s stances are nearly identical! the palms hitting the ground, the same exact stance, the resulting chaotic wave motion of coal. this could very well be chalked up to an earthbending technique copied from the show, but it’s still important to note that tyro knows this, as it’s something directly applicable to lavabending. there is a focus on both body movement, but also hand movement especially, as evidenced by the following comic page:

[Image ID: a singular panel from the Avatar: The Last Airbender comic, Toph’s Metalbending Academy. in this panel, sun is depicted in a bent stance, standing on light brown earth with one foot behind him. he is wearing green and brown earth kingdom clothing. his arms and hands are raised, curling his fingers towards himself as he braces, closing his eyes. red and orange lava flows from the ground below him, surging out like a wave, breaking out of the lower half of the panel. the sound effect “russsh” is behind him, depicted in a similarly red and orange lava-like font, with the top half of the lettering bubbling and rising away. the lower half of the lettering is black, giving it the appearance of cracked lava rock. End ID]

this is another stance we’ve seen before, albeit not in imprisoned. it’s actually on the cover of this very comic, as toph’s standing like this. since we’re talking about haru, though, i won’t include it. but the focus is still the same- raising and pushing the earth/lava away from the user, which haru does a lot of.

my friend @the-hot-zone has already made an EXTREMELY in-depth analysis on haru’s bending style which i will link here, and i highly recommend reading it. it’s entirely supplemental to this, but it does help a lot with understanding where i’m coming from, especially when i mention earthbending and firebending styles.

because i think that, given that haru’s style is so mixed with earth and firebending styles, he could easily pick up lavabending, which is, quite literally, a mix of earth and fire. the control needed to, well control the lava, though, would probably have to be taught by a waterbender, given that lava is a liquid and moves as such, and is known to be hard to control, similar to water.

there’s actually one final point i want to make, though, and this is moreso speculation than anything, so take this at face value:

lavabending is the result of focusing on and tightly compressing earth, which generates friction, thus producing lava.

i know that there are examples of earthbenders manipulating preexisting lava (i.e. kyoshi making kyoshi island) but we see lava being generated within the earth itself, as shown by sun in the above panels. and guess who specializes in compressing earth, specifically earth away from himself?

[Image ID: a set of four screencaps from the episode Imprisoned, from season one of Avatar: The Last Airbender. the first screencap shows haru’s hand on an orange forest background. he is shown levitating two rocks, which spin over his palm. the second screencap shows haru’s hand, now closed into a fist, with sand streaming out of it. the third screencap shows the prison rig, with tyro and haru standing offscreen in front of a pile of coal, bending and compressing pieces of coal that levitate between their outstretched palms. the fourth screencap shows the same as the third screencap, but with the coal solidified into a solid, jagged rock. End ID]

haru and tyro, but mostly haru. we see him reduce solid rock to sand in one hand. we see both of them work together to turn lots of individual coal pieces into a huge solid lump of coal. we can see that they’re capable of compressing earth this way from a distance- who’s to say they can’t go farther? who knows what they can do once they get on solid ground?

so. keeping in mind that tyro uses very similar movements to sun, analyzing how sun’s lavabending technique works, knowing that haru uses similar bending movements as firebenders, and knowing that both haru and tyro specialize in bending compression and manipulating earth away from them, i propose this to answer your question:

tyro could, theoretically, be a lavabender, and there is a high possibility that he could teach lavabending to his son, haru.

i think it would be really neat if tyro was a lavabender, especially given that he’s the leader of haru’s village. they’d probably want a strong earthbender to be in charge- if he was a lavabender, then that adds more to being its protector, given that he led the resistance when the fire nation did eventually come for the village. even when they were “outnumbered ten to one”, as haru put it.

it would be a dangerous skill that the fire nation most likely hasn’t seen before, and would explain all the precautions they take with locking up the earthbenders. in fact, they send six fn guards to arrest haru, a singular earthbender- if they knew he was the son of a lavabender, or that lavabenders existed in the village, it would make sense that they would send so many just to subdue one.

furthermore, tyro teaching haru how to lavabend would be so cool, especially given the techniques haru already knows. he could utilize it in new ways that tyro’s probably never heard of or seen before, especially given that the technique is so rare. haru being able to even learn it also makes sense with this concept- tyro being able to lavabend and then his son also being able to lavabend makes sense.

i might make a separate post on this, solely because i have so many thoughts, but for now, there’s your answer.

tl;dr: yes, i think haru could, theoretically, lavabend. i also think his dad, tyro, could lavabend, and, after breaking out of prison, he would teach this ability to his son.

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detroitbydark · 4 years

Text

Fox and Mouse Finale 2/2

Chapter 14

Part 1/2 can be found here

Characters: Commander Fox x Mouse (reader), and more Jedi/clones/politicians than you can shake a stick at.

Summary: Yearning and Fluff and SMUT! Oh my!

Rated: M 18+

A/N: Ladies and Lads this is it! A chapter so stupid long it required it be split in two pieces. I'm not going to make you wait and I'll be posting both this evening. I'm feeling really sentimental because this is the longest thing I've ever written and completed. I couldn't have done it without y’all. Your support and comments have helped me get through the tough periods of writing and the stress in my life as of late. This is for you guys! Thank you. I love you!

Special thanks as always to @skdubbs and @crimson-dxwn for being there to listen to me and help me every step of the way. You are both absolutely amazing!

------------------------

Fox’s head is reeling, but he feels like he’s holding it together well. He’s pretty sure she can’t feel the shaking in his hand as she takes it and drags him to his feet. Her smile is soft and comforting. It’s home. Mouse is home.

His bucket is left on to rest on the blanket as she leads him through the grass. Wildflowers press into the plates of his armor, leaving yellow smears of pollen in their wake. Mouse looks over her shoulder as they go. Fox wonders if she feels the same way he does, like this is all a dream that will be over the second he wakes. That he’s desperate to stay under its sway just a little while longer.

“Come on Al’verde,” she teases, “I feel like I’m dragging a ton of duracrete. Pick up your feet.”

Fox yanks her hand and she stumbles back toward him, hands colliding with his chest as she breaks into a fit of laughter so honeyed and sweet it would make the bees jealous. She rolls up onto the balls of her feet and kisses his chin, then the tip of his nose. If the boys could see him now, grinning down at her like a fool in love, like a man who didn’t have the weight of a thousand suns on his shoulders.

“Stop trying to distract me. I told you I want to show you something,” she says, pulling away before he can get his lips on hers.

She leads him toward the small pool of water he’d passed coming to find her, where twin waterfalls keep the water bubbling and a fine mist of droplets in the air. They cling to her hair and weigh down the thin fabric of her dress, highlighting the soft curves he was denying himself.

“Where are you taking me, little Mouse?”

She doesn’t answer, instead flashing that enigmatic smile again and leading him to a rock wall that shot up suddenly from green pasture and up into the sky. The sound of water is loud, not quite deafening but definitely distracting. Mouse lets loose his hand and slips in between a gap in the slab wall. He is a far bigger fan of his cyar’ika than he is of tight spaces, but it still gives him a moment's hesitation, finally broken by her teasing voice calling his name.

It’s dark, damp with moisture clinging to the walls that press in on him, but again, before they begin to close in around him, he hears her voice call to him and he follows it like a beacon. In reality the passage is short and opens quickly into a larger cavity. Light spills in and his eyes have barely adjusted before Mouse is pressing into him. Fox stumbles back a half step and laughs as he leans down, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close. Mouse rests her head against his shoulder as he takes in his surroundings.

“I found it my first week here” she says softly. He nearly doesn’t hear her over the sound of rushing water. It wasn’t a true cave so much as it was an alcove behind one of the twin falls. “The flow has eased off as the rains have. When I first came I couldn’t even hear myself think. I think maybe that’s what I liked about it.”

Fox knows the feeling well, remembers throwing himself into his work to try to forget.

“Did it help?” Work hadn’t helped for him, nor had sparring with Hound, hitting the blaster range with Ryk, or any of the other half dozen things he’d done to push thoughts of her away.

Mouse offers him a sad smile before turning and walking toward the edge of the cave and reaching out letting water splash over her finger tips. “No.”

He can’t hold her gaze. Instead his eyes rove, search for something to focus on other than her and the feeling of failure that wells up on him. Mouse hadn’t been the only explorer to find the secret cave. Names are etched into the rock walls. Sets of initials added together, hearts and promises and small bits of flowery poetry of different ages. Generation upon generation of infatuations, puppy loves, lust, and tenderness written into stone for all eternity.

“Fox? You’re doing it again, aren’t you?”

The nearness to the falls has only made the cling of fabric to her skin worse. The pale blue is nearly sheer in parts and Fox tries not to focus on the way it sticks to her legs, outlines their shape. “Do what?”

“Feeling bad for me? Feeling bad for you? Take your pick.” Her voice is teasing but her eyes belay the seriousness underlying her words. “Don’t. It’s as easy as that, right? Just stop.” She beckons him with a small wave of her fingers.

“Come here so I can show you what’s so special.”

Fox closes the distance between them as she turns back to the rushing water. His body slots in behind hers. His hands circle her hips and he frowns again at just how much weight she lost.

Her fingers, cooled by the running water, reach back over her shoulder and cup his cheek. “I know it’s hard,” she says, all teasing gone, “but we’re going to do this together.”

“Communication,” he whispers quietly. “It’s important,” he clarifies. Mouse nods, her head falling back to rest against his chest.

“I’m going to communicate this then -I don’t now, nor have I ever blamed you for what has transpired. You’re no more at fault than I am.”

“But you’re not at fau-“ he stops abruptly. “I see what you're saying, but it’s easier to say than to believe.”

“Fake it until you make it.”

He shakes his head, a bitter laugh working its way past his lips before he leans forward and kisses the hair at the top of her head.

“That easy?”

“Was anything worth it ever easy?” she asks softly.

The simple answer was no. It all took work. It had taken nearly a year for him to kiss her for the first time, hadn't it?

“Fake it ‘til I make it,” he repeats, and he can feel as much as he can hear the contented hum she makes.

“Exactly. Now, what time have you got?” The sudden change of subject has him raising a brow and his vambrace up to look at the built in chrono. He rattles off the time and she makes another contented sound.

“Perfect timing. Now watch.” She stares out into the falling water. He’s nearly ready to ask what he’s watching for when a change in the light hits the droplets just right. Rainbows are thrown across the inside of the cave. Some steady, like the continuous fall of water, some here and gone as the stream is broken. He’s never seen anything like it. It’s stunning. Mouse leans back into his chest. The armor isn't comfortable to rest on but it doesn’t seem to bother her. He wishes it wasn’t between them.

“Isn’t it beautiful?”

It is.

A small laugh bubbles from her lips as she turns and her fingers trace the strays colors flickering at his temple. One hand rests over his heart. She’s happy and in his arms and the moment is perfect.

“Marry me.”

The words slip from his lips faster than credits from a gamblers hands on Canto Bight.

Mouse startles, pulls back and then her foot is coming out from under her and her arms go to grabbing, finding purchase on one of his. Her weight, however slight, combined with his surprise are enough to drag him forward with her as the pair falls through the rushing water and immediately into the pool below.

Mouse comes up laughing and sputtering. Her teeth set to chattering almost instantly. Fox doesn’t find it nearly as funny, even less so when Mouse’s eyes fall on him and peals of laughter escape her til she can barely breathe. He’s cold and he can’t believe he asked that question.

“You look like an angry tooka!” she barely manages to get out as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“I’m all wet.”

Mouse rises to her feet. The pool is shallow and only comes up to her hips. Her dress has gone sheer and leaves nothing to the imagination as she splashes water at her grumpy paramour. “So am I.”

His hair hangs nearly to his brows, pasted down against his forehead. Mouse squeals as his eyes narrow and he lunges for her. She barely gets away from his first attempt, but is far to slow for his second. He hauls her into his arms and holds her close.

“Gotcha.”

Mouse squirms and laughs in his grip but she isn’t really trying to get away. She only manages to give him a better look at the curve of her breasts and the pale shadow of peaked nipples through it.

“Don’t do it,” she warns.

Fox smiles, aiming for innocence but failing miserably. “Do what? Do…. this?”

He falls back, dragging her with him into the cold clear pool. Water clings to her lashes as they both come up gasping and laughing. He nearly apologizes but Mouse’s lips are on his, her hands at either side of his head.

Where her lips are cold, her tongue is warm and welcome as it strokes along his own. Suddenly the water doesn’t seem so cold, his soaked blacks underneath the layer of composite armor doesn’t chafe so much. It’s easy to forget the world exists outside of the pair of them and the soft sounds she’s making at the back of her throat and the equally needy moans she’s pulling from him.

He buries his face in her neck when she pulls back, nipping and sucking to reacquaint himself with all the sweet spots and equally enticing sounds they produced.

“Are we going to do this here?” She pants out his question from earlier. The want in her voice mirrors the one he felt.

“Kriff…” He manages to drag his mouth away from her wet skin. One arm around her waist secures her to him as he lets the rest of her body slide back into the water. He chuckles at her hiss as the cold envelopes her again.

“Ok. New plan-“

“Your room or mine?”

————

There’s going to be tiny puddles of water leading from the garden all the way up to the guest rooms. Mouse can look behind them and see them forming, falling between Fox’s armor and skin. They get particularly bad every so often. Like now, where the urge has overwhelmed one or both. Fox has her back pressed firmly against the wall, a tapestry on either side of them whose beauty is going completely unrecognized as she hikes a leg up over and around his hip. Fox’s mouth is fused to hers as a free hand massages her breast through the damp fabric.

“Going to make you scream my name.” Fox comes up for air, pressing his forehead into hers as they both pant. She squirms against him seeking friction that will ease the building tension.

Neither of them sees the Chancellor until he is clearing his throat.

“Well, it’s good to see that you two have made your amends.” She can feel Fox’s spine go rigid as her leg falls. He puts only a hair's breadth of space between them, stepping slightly between her and Bail Organa.

“Sir, I was just showing the lady back to her quarters.”

Mouse stifles a laugh, and Chancellor Organa seems to be holding back one of his own. Mouse presses into Fox’s back and peers around to the Chancellor.

“We’ve been having a very heated discussion on the personhood bill, Chancellor.” She offers.

Fox glances back at her with a filthy smile. “Very heated sir. It may take us the rest of the day to come to terms with it.” He glances back at the Chancellor and Mouse notes, not for the first time, the friendship that has blossomed between the two. He’d never been so relaxed when talking about Palp- He’d never dared an ounce of impropriety before but now he was blatantly flaunting his highly inappropriate relationship without the least hint of shame.

Bail let’s his eyes roam between the pair for half a second, “As you were Commander, who am I to get in the way of aggressive negotiations? I expect a full report at breakfast tomorrow.”

Fox bites back a smile. “Breakfast will be fine sir though my report may be heavily redacted.”

Bail shakes his head with a laugh, finally giving in. “So be it.” He takes a half a step to move past them before stopping. “I would take the back way upstairs. Your vode and their generals are having an impromptu Sabaac tournament in the parlor and you won’t get away from them as easily as you will from me.” Fox nods.

“Also Commander?”

Fox cocks his head in question.

“I’m happy for you.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

Bail gives his pauldron a quick pat as he walks by. Mouse watches as the Chancellor moves down the hall without a look back. When her eyes do move back to the man in front of her, a new heat is burning in his eyes. She stifles a laugh as he scoops her up.

“You're taking far too much time cyar’ika.”

Mouse finally does laugh as she points in the direction of the back stairs. “Me? I believe it was you who said this seemed like as good a spot as any.” She pitches her voice low in mockery of his own.

“You do a horrible impression,” he mutters, taking the steps two at a time. He’s not even breathing heavy by the time he reaches his room and eases them through the door.

Mouse’s feet have barely hit the floor before she starts helping pull off bits of armor. His bucket, attached to his belt for safekeeping, is carefully shucked into the small corner table as a pile of drippy plastoid begins to take shape on the floor. When he’s down to just his clinging Blacks he moves on her.

“You have too much on.”

Mouse grins as she bends, grips the hem of the dress, before pulling it up and over her head. She tosses it lazily to the side.

“Still too much,” he says slowly, as his eyes rove over her. Mouse laughs as he closes the space between them.

“I’ve got panties on Fox. That’s it.” She makes a small surprised sound as he drops to his knees in front of her. A surge of excitement catches her off guard as Fox’s hands grip her hips and pull her body close. She can feel the scratchy stubble along his chin as he nuzzles at the small dip where her thigh meets her hip.

“Still too much.”

He’s looking up the line of her body and Mouse feels something like power flowing through her as he leans in and places a soft kiss over her hip bone. His thumbs hook in the band of her simple panties and push them down over her sex, below her knees, to her feet where he gently encourages her to step out of them.

“Better?” He’s barely touched her but she already feels breathless.

He leans in, rests his head against the flat plain of her stomach, his warm breath tickles as his hand strokes up and down her thighs. “Yes. Much.”

A glint of silver flashes at his temple as Mouse brings her hand to stroke through his hair. Fox’s eyes slip shut. All the rush to arrive has led to this, a serene moment. A moment that leaves Mouse feeling more connected to him than any kiss on their way back to the estate.

“I see you have a perfectly lovely bed waiting for us.”

Fox turns into her body and presses his lips along her tummy then to her hip. “Can’t lie,” he murmurs against her skin, “I’m pretty content right here.” His eyes flutter shut once more as her nails gently rake across his scalp.

“Cyare,” she whispers softly, “take me to bed?”

Rising slowly to his feet Fox doesn’t let himself lose contact with her body once. His motions are unhurried. “Your accent is getting better.”

“I’ve had some help.”

Fox doesn’t ask who. He has an idea and he’ll probably have to thank them at some point, but he’d rather not think of the Marshal Commander while he makes love to his girlfriend.

Mouse steps away, smiling coyly over her shoulder as he reaches after her. The soft sway of her hips makes his mouth go dry.

“I feel like you’re the one with too many clothes now, Al’verde.”

There’s an underlying confidence to her that he doesn’t remember, a way she moves, a way she holds his gaze. It makes him want. It makes him need.

Just like she had with her dress, he is quick to pull off the black under armor top he wore but the reaction as her eyes trace over him isn’t quite the same as when she’d performed the same maneuver.

Mouse’s eyes go wide as she focuses on his chest.

“What is that?”

Why has her voice gone so quiet? He glances down and realizes-

“Oh Fox…” her hand is warm against his bare chest as she matches it up with the tattooed replica of her print.

“We’ll talk about it later, cyar’ika.” He tries to sound persuasive but the petite creature in front of him is not having it.

Fox allows her to drag him the last few steps to the bed. He plops down with a tired sigh.

“We’ll talk about it now.” It’s a gentle order but an order nonetheless.

“Communication?”

Mouse nods as she slides into his lap, a leg falling to either side of his. Fox’s hands come up automatically, one on her lower back and the other with fingers flexed over her bottom. “That would be a good start,” she encourages. Leaning in, Mouse presses her forehead to his.

“Now, why?”

It’s the most arousing interrogation he’s ever been a part of. One part of his brain says to kiss her and make her forget she ever had a question in the first place, but the other reminds him of Bly and General Secura.

Promises could be made ‘til the end of time, but if he didn’t follow through, if he didn’t show her that he intended to hold himself to that standard than everything he said, no matter how poetic or romantic, meant bantha shit.

“I didn’t want to forget you.”

“Oh Fox…”

He wishes she wouldn’t say that. He doesn’t like the sadness that fills her voice, like it’s not for herself but for him. Fox tips his head away ducking around her until he can press his cheek against the smooth expanse of her neck. Nothing about this came easy and she seems to give him the simple gift of a small escape.

“I failed you. I couldn’t let myself forget that,” he continues, his lips moving against her skin. His lips brush over her pulse and Mouse inhales so sweet and soft it nearly shatters him.

“Didn’t fail,” she manages out. Her hand slips between them and traces over the inked lines. “You could never.”

“Your faith in me is moving, cyar'ika, but I’m afraid your love for me has left you blind.”

Mouse laughs as his lips brush butterfly soft under her ear. Goosebumps erupt over her body. “So be it ner darasuum. Let me be blind and happy. It’s much preferable to being alone and sad.”

Fox freezes and draws back. Mouse looks so serene and at peace even though there’s no taking back what she’s just called him. My Forever.

Mouse’s hands gently cradle his cheeks. Her mouth curls into a smile, beatific and knowing. Fox feels like his chest is going to explode.

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.” The words slip from her lips with the smoothness of a nonnative speaker who is only becoming proficient. “Apparently, it was important for a silly little Mouse to learn more Mando’a.”

Words fail him. Even if he wasn’t saying the right thing he usually had something to say, but not to that. Not to her declaration worded in his preferred language, not when she was perched naked in his arms. Not when she looked down on him like she saw all his sins and cared for him in spite of them.

Fox leans in and captures her mouth with his own, cherishing the feeling of plump wanting lips under his own as he pulls her in close and presses his body against hers. Mouse goes pliant in his arms, moulding to his body as her arms snake around his neck. Her hips rock lazily, grinding against the hard line of him without any real intent just yet. He wishes he would have taken his pants off first. The telltale heat of her center is painfully close, the fabric already becoming damp with her arousal.

A quiet, needy sound rises up in her throat as his tongue strokes along hers. Last night had given him a none too gentle reminder of what a pleasure it was to touch her. Earlier in the cave, it had been a tease of what was to come. Now there was no chance she was getting away from him. No ultimatums, no di’kutla proposals to ruin the moment. It was just them and the sunlight soaked day stretching out ahead.

Mouse’s tongue slides along his own. She’s less languid now. Her body rolls against his with intimate purpose. Each time she grinds down on him her breasts press against his chest. He's lightheaded from the press of her skin, hot against his.

His blacks feel constricting.They're irritating and uncomfortably tight. Fox attempts to push them down with one hand but there’s no room between them. He lifts his hips and she lets out a needy moan into his mouth that makes the aching hardness pressing against his thigh that much worse.

One hand slides up the bare expanse of her spine, feels the little ridges as it goes. Fox’s fingers tangle in her loose hair and pull her away. Mouse whines at the loss.

“Cyar’ika, precious one, sweet love of my life,” he starts, “if I don’t get these pants off I’m going to cum in them like some shiny cadet.”

It takes a moment for her to swing her leg over him, kneeling to the side. His focus shifts to getting his no good, kriffing blacks off his legs while Mouse seems to want to challenge his ability to complete any task. He watches as she leans. Starting at the edge of his shoulder, she begins laying trailing kisses. He falls back onto the elbow nearest her to keep his body propped, allowing her easier movement while his other hand grips at the waist of his blacks and yanks them down as he lifts his hips up. It’s such a relief when his cock bobs free that he nearly groans.

He does groan when Mouse’s smart little mouth moves from his collarbone down to his tattoo. It’s fascinating watching as she kisses each red inked finger. He reaches down and grasps the hardness between his legs and pumps it lazily.

From the tips of the tattoo she trails her tongue over his heated skin, moving down until her mouth opens to envelop his nipple. Fox can’t help but arch at the sensation of her hot mouth as she gently alternates between nipping and sucking..

“Fierfek,” he curses lowly as she continues to heap attention on him. Her other hand slips down his body and shoos his own away from his cock. It’s heaven to watch her wrap her delicate fingers around him and pump, gathering beads of precum to aid in lubricating each stroke.

He curses again as her thumb sweeps over the weeping slit. Mouse’s mouth comes free from his nipple with a soft ‘pop’ of release and she places one more kiss in the center of his tattoo.

“Cyar’ika, I want to taste you.” His cock comes to rest, hard and leaking into his belly as she lets go.

“I think we’ll be discussing the logistics of the bill all night, don’t you?” Mouse offers him a heavy-lidded smile as she pushes on his opposite shoulder until he gives in and falls back onto a matching elbow.

Fox can only nod mutely as one leg is draped back over his lap. “Right now I don’t want to play anymore.” She says softly, taking his cock in hand and lining it up with her center. “I need you, Fox.”

A low groan escapes them both as the angry red tip of him comes into contact and swipes along her drenched outer lips. She moves him back and forth, collecting her slick along the tip of his cock as she goes. Her mouth falls open in a quiet moan as she uses his weeping tip to rub her clit. The teasing is exquisite torture. Months of longing and desire build with each touch of her skin to his.

One hand shoots forward and steadies her hip as she slowly begins to take him. Usually he’d have used his fingers to help prepare her body, but she’s not having any of that right now. He watches her move, taking little bits at a time. Her head falls back, her eyes shut and her lips parted. That possessive little part in his soul purrs at the sight of his woman, his partner splitting herself open, desperate for him.

“Say it again,” he demands, fingers digging into the flesh of her hip.

Mouse feels drunk on sensation. It’s been too long since she’s had him and each inch she takes stretches her body deliciously.

“I need you, Fox,” she repeats. Her eyes flutter open to meet the soft golden brown hues of his own locked intently on her.

This is better than any dream, any late night with her fingers working furiously pretending they were something they weren’t, better than the discreetly packaged toy she’d purchased off the holonet. All were poor facsimiles for what she felt now as she comes to rest against his body feeling overwhelmingly full.

“Feel so good,” Fox praises, his voice gone rough, drawn tight like the muscle straining in his neck, “Missed touching you.”

Fox’s hand strays from her hip, thumb skimming along her belly as he slides it up her body. Mouse moves her hips tentatively as his rough fingers skim over her breast and capture the pebbled peak topping it. He rolls the dusky tip of her nipple between his fingers, drawing a ragged moan from her.

“You ready to move, cyar’ika?” he purrs as he plucks gently. The sensation travels straight to her center. She can’t help but arch into his touch, crying out softly at the combination of stimuli. Fox’s hips jerk seemingly against his own will, just a micro movement, but it makes her head spin all the same as she slowly begins to rock her body, rising up oh so slightly before sinking back down fully. Mouse watches as his head falls back and his hand falls back to her hip in a desperate grip.

Soft sounds spill from her lips, a constant flow of pleasure for him to hear.

“Look at me,” he demands raggedly as her eyes fall shut again. His hips cant up to meet her, their bodies rolling together in a sinuous motion.

She hears his name fall from her lips, full of love and desperation. In a smooth movement Fox is pushing himself into a sitting position and wrapping his arms around her, tight bands of muscle she couldn’t escape even if she wanted to. Her rhythm is lost as he moves them back, until his back is against the headboard. His knees angle up behind her. An arm stays banded around her as he uses the leverage to begin to fuck up into her willing body. It takes a moment for her to find her rhythm again as bright beams of pleasure shock her system each time the head of his cock brushes against her sensitive walls. He chuckles as she makes a frustrated sound.

“There, there, precious. I’m going to make you feel so good,” he promises, nuzzling against her throat. His breath is hot on her skin and she struggles to ground herself among the sea of emotions swirling around her. She feels his teeth graze along her collarbone and her body clenches around him. Fox growls low against her skin. Mouse holds tight to one shoulder, nails leaving angry half moon marks, as her other hand grasps for the short hair at the back of his head.

Dark marks are sucked into the skin on the column of her neck, her shoulder, the soft spot just below her jaw. She shouldn’t enjoy his possessiveness as much as she does, but Mouse can’t help the way she rocks just a little harder against him thinking about what she’ll see in the mirror tomorrow. A feeling, tight and winding, begins to build low in her belly leaving her feeling like she was in a race to catch up.

Fox feels it too, the telltale seizing of muscles as her body began its hunt toward climax. Her nails dig sharply into his skin as he finds her mouth. It’s sloppy and needy. Mouse’s teeth nip at his lip and he feels his own end threatening, a telltale tingle starting at the base of his spine. Not yet though.

Their bodies move together, finally finding some semblance of familiarity after so long apart. The quiet whimpers that have been slowly spilling from her mouth become louder echoing pleasantly in his ears.

“You’re close, aren’t you? Me too.” Her hips stutter at his observation. “I want to feel you first. Can you do that for me?”

“Fox- please.” There was something about the way she asked, so polite with her “please” that strokes his ego, bringing a self-satisfied grin to his face.

“What do you need, little Mouse?”

“Ask me again,” she demands breathlessly, “Please ask me again.”

Ask? Ask what? At this point he’d honestly do anything she asked of him. His brows knit together and she must see his confusion through the fog of her desire.

“Earlier. Under the falls- you asked-“ Fox’s hand drops between them, finds her clit and begins rubbing it in smooth circles. Mouse’s back arches and her head falls against his shoulder.

“Again. Ask again.” She begs softly.

Did she mean-?

“Cyar’ika, look at me” he demands, slowing down just enough to turn his head, nuzzle his nose against hers until he’s sure her lust darkened eyes are focused only on his. “Marry me?”

“Fox… Fox… Fox…” she so close he can feel her body pulled taut like a bow. Sweat drips between their bodies as they chase release together. “Yes. Maker- yes.” She manages out seconds before waves of pleasure wash over her. She calls out his name in basic and again, softer, in Mando’a. It comes out as a sweet Fox’ika he’s never heard her use before.

He holds her close, working her through her high until he can no longer keep his own pace and his body coils tight and snaps. The world whites out as he finds his end in her, each pulse of his cock met by the vice grip of her body around him seemingly working in tandem with his to bring about an orgasm that leaves him overwhelmed and disoriented.

Mouse trembles in his arms. It’s the first thing he’s able to note as he comes back into himself. The next is that her lips are peppering his skin lazily with feather light kisses, murmuring soft words against his neck.

And then it hits him.

He nearly jostles her from her position straddling his lap with the sharp movement he makes. She wraps her arms around his neck and has the audacity to laugh at his stunned expression

“You want to marry me?”

Mouse leans in and kisses the very tip of his nose. “You already asked me that, silly.” Her fingers tease gently at the short hair at the back of his head.

“I- Kriff, you know what I meant.” He slips his hands up between her arms and holds her face. Her eyes are soft and relaxed, her cheeks still painted with a flush of pink, a small smile tugs at her lips. She looks perfectly content and… in love.

With him.

“Of course I want to marry you, taking care of you is a full time job-“ He drags her in for a kiss, slanting his mouth over hers. When she pulls back she’s laughing. “-at least this way I can collect the fringe benefits.”

He feels a smile split his own features in two.

Mouse squirms in his grip. The fading blush returns with a vengeance as he slips from her body, an unquestionable wet trickle following. While she may be embarrassed, he finds it sinfully hot to have his seed marking her thigh. He takes pity though and lets her escape to the ‘fresher. He lets his head fall back against the headboard. He can’t wipe the smile from his face. In his wildest dreams he never saw this playing out like it had.

The sound of the door opening has him turning his head lazily in her direction. He’s pretty sure she’s a goddess. Nope. Strike that. He was positive she was a Goddess and somehow she was his.

She tosses a warm washcloth his way and averts her eyes as he cleans up. It makes him chuckle as he does. She crawls back into bed as he finishes and attempts to lay next but that wasn’t going to work. Instead he drags her back into his lap. She curls into him as soon as she’s in place, legs off one side, head resting on his opposite shoulder all the while looking like she was made to be there.

“When do you think we could do it?” she asks softly,”It’s not exactly legal.”

He’s already thought of that.

“We could do it anytime you want. The old Mandalorian way. Exchange some vows and bam! Married.” Her brows furl in thought “unless you want to wait for-“

“I’m not Mandalorian.”

“And I’m just a poor facsimile of one,” he huffs when her frown deepens. “It’s the vow that matters. If you believe in the words you're saying, the vow you make, what does it matter?” Her hand feels so soft and so fragile in his own as he brings it up to his lips and gently kisses along her knuckles.

“So we could do this?”

“We could do this.”

“When?” There’s an excitement stirring in her voice and he doesn’t try to hide the matching energy on his own.

“Whenever you wa-“

“Now. I want it now.” She slips off his lap and turns to him, kneeling. Her eyes are as bright as the stars in the sky and far more captivating as far as Fox is concerned. He sits up a little straighter.

“You’re serious? Just like that?”

Mouse nods. She’s never been so sure of anything in her life. When he’d said it earlier today she was scarcely sure she heard him correctly, and then the icy bath in the pool had worked wonders in rearranging her priorities.

“Stop questioning me. You’d think you’d be happy to-“

He steals the air from her lungs and the words from her mouth with a kiss that, had her panties not already been on floor, would have surely put them there. His hands cup her face and she’s thankful for the anchor they provide as she whimpers into his mouth. She lets out a ragged breath as he pulls back just enough for her to focus.

“Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde."

Maker bless Cody because she understands every word Fox says. The Marshal Commander hadn’t even blinked when she’d posed her question.

“You have to breathe Cyar’ika,” Fox whispers and Mouse lets out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Fox’s brows bunch together as her silence stretches. “We don’t have to-“

Mouse presses a finger to his lips and he quiets.

“Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde."

Fox leans in, presses his forehead to hers. Her heart is full. Her soul is light.

“Mine,” he promises softly.

She smiles at the claim.

“Mine,” she makes her own assertion.

His thumb strokes along her jaw. “Precious…” He pulls her back into his lap and Mouse’s eyes grow wide as she looks down as giggles begin to bubble up in her chest.

“Again already?”

“We need to get to work on those little warriors.”

——-

Mouse really hadn’t wanted to get out of bed. Strike that. She had adamantly refused to get out of bed. She was nowhere near Fox’s level of ‘morning person’ and the pleasantly dull ache between her legs left her even more certain that bed was the perfect place for her.

Unfortunately, her newly minted Riduur had other ideas. Mainly to watch the sunrise - just once - over Naboo’s famed lakes. He’d seemed so hopeful that she had begrudgingly crawled from her bed and slid into a pair of leggings before stealing one of the black under armors he’d packed. He seemed to approve as she tied the overly large shirt off just below her navel, his eyes lingering on the bare strip of flesh as he’d pulled his own clothes on. It had been fascinating and almost jarring to see him in something other than regulation GAR issued clothes, instead having opted for the simple pants and tunic that Padmé had left for all her guests in their rooms.

“You know, we could still go back to bed and discuss the little warriors some more,” she teases lightly as she reaches across the table and retrieves an insulated carafe. She pours two mugs of rich black caf and then begins doctoring them accordingly.

The light is slowly beginning to peek over the horizon, casting a soft glow over the lake when the patio doors open and the rest of their party ease into the cool morning air.

Fox huffs, “First we eat and then we’ll discuss what pops up.”

“You’re talking about sex right?” Bly’s voice echoes over the patio, “because honestly, bravo. Amiright?” He looks to an exasperated General Secura and an equally unamused Cody. “Because wow, you two give Aayla and I a run for our credits.”

“Bly!” The Commander winces as Aayla cuts her eyes at him. Mouse hides her embarrassed smile in the hot mug of sweet caf.

“Come on, look at him!” Bly points to Fox who sips at his own caf. “When was the last time he looked so much like himself?”

“You mean a smug asshole?” Cody cuts in straight faced, but eyes dancing with amusement.

“Exactly!”

Mouse glances at her husband and the way he’s relaxed back in his chair with one leg crossed over the other, the sleeves of his cream tunic rolled up just below his elbows with strong forearms on display... stars above! And that grin…

He did, in fact, look like a smug asshole and it did things to her.

“Don’t be jealous Bly. It’s not becoming.” Fox baits his vod happily.

“Why you little mir’sheb-“

Cody rolls his eyes and physically moves Bly out of the way with a straight arm to find his spot at the table.

Aayla slides in next to Mouse. The Jedi gives her a knowing smirk before gently touching a spot just behind her ear. The twi’lek’s voice is conspiratorial. “Our boys like to make it appear as if we’ve done battle with octopi, no? Bacta gel and high collars are going to be your best friend.”

Mouse can feel her cheeks heating up again as Bly’s head appears over Aayla’s shoulder. “Don’t let her fool you. She’s never worn anything high collared in her entire life.”

“Are we starting in on the armor argument again this early?” the blue skinned woman asks with a huff.

“Now that you mention it…”

The pair dissolve into playful bickering while the doors open and Padmé and Anakin make their way onto the patio, each with a baby in tow, while General Kenobi takes up the rear. The atmosphere is lively as everyone settles in. Babies are dispersed and fawned over. Bly smiles widely as Luke fumbles to touch and grab at his face. Obi-wan has a placid watchful Leia in his arms. Both look serene to a point where it’s nearly comical.

The Chancellor makes his presence known as the food is being spread out.

“What a strange group we have here,” he notes with a smile.

“Ah yes, it would seem you have stumbled on the inaugural meeting of those who don’t believe in fraternization regulations.” Obi-wan’s eyes sparkle with mischief while at his side Cody rolls his.

A small laugh rises within the group and for a moment there is no war, no separatists, no strife or heartache within the Republic. For a moment everyone is allowed to just be, without making decisions or worrying about repercussions.

Mouse tops off Fox’s caf before pouring one for Cody, who thanks her with a knowing smile and nod. Fox is busy piling a plate with food. Colorful cut fruit, fresh meats, and rich pastries fill it as he sits back.

The babies are making their rounds. Anakin has managed to wrangle his daughter back from the child’s Grand Master and Luke is plunked into Mouse’s arms while Padmé seems to enjoy the moment sans child.

When she glances at Fox, she can’t help but notice the way he looks at the infant in her arms. His eyes soften at the little boy as he gurgles and tries to grab ahold of Mouse’s braid hanging over her shoulder.

If he had his way, they’d have a tiny one of their own in nine months. Not that she was complaining. If they could use their contacts to rush Me’kar’s adoption through, they could have two before the next Festival of Life. Of course, until Padme’s bill became law, Fox wouldn’t be the father of record for at least Me’kar - possibly either child - but they’d already talked about it and they would do it the Mando way until they could-

“Cyar’ika? You’re thinking very hard about something,” Fox notes softly, holding his hands out for his turn with Luke.

“Yes, I hope you're feeling well,” Padmé adds as Mouse admires the tiny child tucked comfortably into the crook of his elbow, “I hear that you may not have had much sleep last night.” Mouse’s head snaps to her friend who - for being an amazing politician - is doing an awful job of hiding her smile behind her cup of juice.

Mouse glances sideways at the snort her husband makes. He pushes the plate of food in front of her and eyes it. “Eat, precious.”

He ignores the way her eyes roll and maintains his stare until she takes the first bite of fruit.

“Commander Fox.” Bail eyes the pair of them as he speaks, “I wonder if you had the report on those aggressive negotiations we’d spoken of yesterday.”

“As I stated, they’re likely to remain heavily redacted.” The grin that spreads across Fox’s face should have warned her he was up to no good. “But my Riduur and I came to a perfectly reasonable agreement in the end.”

Bastard.

The table goes silent as Fox looks down and coos something to Luke. Mouse puts her head down and chews longer than necessary. Someone drops a fork. Then, all at once-

“As someone experienced in secret weddings-“

“Can he do that? Legally speaking-”

“Leave it to Fox-”

“I have a sister now?! Cody we have-“

“This is going to go over like a-“

“There’ll be no living with him now. Does this set a-“

Mouse takes another bite as she looks over at the satisfied grin on the face of the Coruscant Guard Commander. “Are you quite happy now?”

“Very.”

She can’t argue with that.

#fox and mouse #commander fox #cc 1010 #commander fox/reader

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96thdayofrage · 3 years

Text

Baseball was warned. In a 1974 article about the lack of Black MLB managers, the Sporting News pointed to an equally pressing concern: the decline of the Black player. Editor C.C. Johnson Spink wrote that over the previous five years, there had been a significant drop in the numbers of African-American players drafted, from 40 percent to roughly 15 percent. Spink also wrote that, statistically, Black players had outperformed their White counterparts.

If Black players left baseball, he concluded, then the game would suffer.

Three years later, Atlanta Braves general manager Bill Lucas, the league’s first Black GM and also the highest ranking Black official in MLB at the time, sounded a similar alarm, telling a reporter, “I’ve noticed a decline of Black ball players drafted and being funneled into the minor leagues and a decline in the number pursuing the major leagues. It’s an indication we may be losing some good athletes to other spring sports.”

Lucas wasn’t alone. The popular Black sportswriter Doc Young wrote numerous editorials about the decline of the Black superstar. Investigative pieces in newspapers across the country highlighted the general decline of Black American players. MLB officials publicly stated there was a problem. Monte Irvin, who integrated the New York Giants in 1949 and was at that time working in the commissioner’s office, said, “Black kids are not just playing as much baseball as they used to.” His solution? Get the kids when they were young. As he put it, “in the inner cities, a kid may have baseball ability right after he gets out of grade school but doesn’t know what to do with it. We have to get scouts to dig him out, to tell him where to play.”

The numbers told the story: From 1947, the year Jackie Robinson broke into the major leagues, to 1973, the number of Black players in MLB increased. But from 1973 to 1976, Black participation dropped from 144 to 109 players, or from 24 percent to 18.2 percent of the league.

Still, Lucas seemed largely unfazed. “I don’t think it’s serious, though,” he said. “The Black ballplayer’s not becoming extinct, or anything like that.” MLB lacked urgency, too. Perhaps the sport’s leaders were blinded by the fact that, in 1977, Black superstars were still prominent. Though Henry Aaron, Willie Mays, and Jackie Robinson were gone, players such as Joe Morgan, Reggie Jackson, Willie Stargell, and an aging Lou Brock were thrilling fans. MLB had two Black MVPs in George Foster and Rod Carew; two Black Rookies of the Year in Eddie Murray and Andre Dawson; a host of rising Black talents including Dave Parker, Dave Winfield, and Willie Randolph; and a Black No. 1 draft pick in Harold Baines.

That year, the most MLB did to reconnect with Black youth was to use Jackie Robinson Week – the 30-year commemoration of his breaking the color barrier during All-Star Week – to, as Irvin put it, “make them (young Blacks) aware of Robinson’s contributions.”

That would not be enough.

At the game’s lower levels, the Black talent drain already was underway. For years, Black players had argued that teams had unwritten quotas governing how many Black players they would have on their rosters. Because of these quotas, they believed that Black players had to be great – or else they would never get a real chance to carve out playing careers. Black kids believed this, too. Gates Brown, a former Detroit Tiger who worked in the organization after his retirement, said in 1977 that when he tried to recruit Black kids, “you still get the same line: you got to be twice as good as the White kid.”

Brown had no remedy except to say, “Be tough, hang in there.”

Crucially, baseball’s scouting system had changed. According to Hall of Famer Frank Robinson, when barrier breakers like Jackie Robinson came in, most teams started to sign Black talent, believing that was the best and cheapest way to compete. A generation later, however, scouts felt that they had tapped that mine. So they stopped looking for Black gems – or even showing up at all. One Black player concluded that White scouts refused to go to the inner city and scout Black players because they were afraid. Meanwhile, Black scouts were disappearing. Of the 566 official MLB scouts in 1982, only 15 were Black. Fourteen teams did not have any full-time Black scouts. That led the great Joe Morgan to ask, “How can you expect to sign a lot of Black players if you don’t have a lot of Black scouts?”

This lack of Black scouts coincided with teams’ increasing dependency on drafting college players. From 1972 to 1982, MLB teams went from drafting 334 collegians to 615, a near reversal of numbers when compared to high school players. Pittsburgh Pirates player Bill Madlock believed that this was intentional, done because fewer Black players played in college. Purposeful or not, the change had a huge impact on the Black talent pool for two reasons. First, by the 1970s, a number of Historically Black Colleges and Universities, or HBCUs, had begun dropping baseball. As Black Sports reported in a 1971 article, these schools lacked the resources to field teams. Most did not offer scholarships. Without that, many potential players instead chose to concentrate on their books. Second, the predominantly White institutions that could offer baseball scholarships were limited to only 13 per team. As a result, a host of young Black athletes who looked to college sports for potential economic mobility saw limited chances in baseball and so tried their luck with football and basketball, "They seemed to be turned off by baseball,” said Brown, the Tigers lifer. “More concentrate on football and basketball. There's more money, and they get to the big-time quicker."

Baseball also lost Black talent because America’s structural inequalities had taken their toll on the inner city game. In the late 1970s, youth coaches noted that while the sport was doing fine in the mostly White suburbs, inner cities struggled to field teams from the Little League to high school levels. As one youth leader in Miami put it, they lacked money for league sponsorships, kids couldn’t afford equipment, and the facilities were neglected. MLB officials understood this, and, Irvin concluded, “they don’t have the wide-open spaces for baseball anymore.” But the sport didn’t do anything about it.

With MLB unwilling to truly step in, it mostly fell on individual Black players to do what they could. In the late 1980s in Los Angeles – a city that had a rich history of producing Black talent – Black stars such as Darryl Strawberry and Eric Davis saw the warning signs. They returned to practice at Harvard Park, a public gathering place in the middle of one of the most dangerous sections of the city, the type of place where you were more likely to see someone struck by a bullet than struck out by a pitch. They helped youngsters with tips and gear and otherwise remained a presence, letting Black kids know that baseball could be a future home for them, too. Soon, programs like Reviving Baseball in the Inner Cities, which is run by MLB and still exists today, would follow their lead to provide kids with opportunities to play ball.

But by then it was too late. Baseball’s failure to get out in front of the problem in the 1970s and early 1980s had real and lasting consequences. The number of Black players in MLB remained relatively stable from 1977 to 1987 – and then the well nearly dried up. Today, the number of African-American players sits at an all-time low of roughly 7 percent. If MLB wants to increase Black American participation in the game, the league will have to make massive investment in youth baseball, bring more Black decision-makers into the fold, and stop repeating the same tired lines that the game isn’t as cool or appealing as basketball and football.

Today’s baseball fans, a demographic group that itself is also shrinking, have far fewer Black stars to get excited about. Yesterday’s icons warned us this day was coming. But the league never righted the ship. And that makes it fair to ask: Even now, is the league truly dedicated to fixing this problem?

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mxndoscyarika · 4 years

Text

Folklore series: The 1 (Javier Peña x GenderNeutral!reader)

Author’s note: I know, I know, this isn’t Red Sunsets...But this fic is based off of the MASTERPIECE that is Taylor Swift’s new album “Folklore”! I fell in love with the ethereal, yet emotional, songs and was inspired to write some fics based off of them. @mindless--ramblings and I screamed and cried over how well these songs fit the boys, and she’s doing the series with our beloved Frankie! Mine will be an assortment depending on the songs, so none of the Pedro boys are safe 😉 So just sit back, relax, and enjoy the emotional rollercoaster 😌 (and maybe grab some tissues).

Summary: You’re at Danny’s wedding reception with your spouse, and you see someone familiar.

Like my writing? Here’s my masterlist.

| next song >

Warning(s): food mention, alcohol mention, angst

Song: The 1 by Taylor Swift (Folklore)

---And if my wishes came true

It would’ve been you---

The cheers and laughter of your family and friends engulfed you as you and your spouse meandered through the crowd. Being such a small town, it was hard to not become friends with everyone, and Danny was no exception. Despite the pang in your heart whenever anything remotely related to a certain DEA agent was mentioned, you’d grin and bear it. It was Danny’s special day, and you weren’t about to ruin his wedding.

Young children screeched and ran past you, drawing your attention to a table sitting near the edge of the room. They gathered behind a figure draped in flannel and tapped his shoulder.

Your breath left your lungs as the person turned in their seat, revealing a strong nose and soft plump lips. Even after all these years, you could recognize that profile in a heartbeat. Javier Peña, Laredo’s pride and joy. And your ex-fiance.

He smiled at the kids, and for a moment you were dragged back to the past.

It was summer, the trees laden with fruits and the meadows pleasantly warm. You smiled as the tall grasses brushed against your bare legs; foregoing your usual long pants, you’d opted for shorts. Both you and Javi had the day off from work, and like clockwork you fell into each other’s arms.

You were both much younger, the smile lines and crow's feet not quite settled in yet. Hands that were strong but not yet worn held onto yours as you walked through the meadow. The wildflowers of many shades of yellow, pink, and white spattered throughout the grass formed a Seurat painting for the birds that soared overhead. You smiled to yourself and ran your hand over a tall stalk of grass, the blade slipping between your fingers like water in a stream. If only...

“What are you thinking about, mi cielo?” Javi asked softly, lifting a hand to stroke your cheek. Umber eyes so dark they were nearly black gazed at you intently, searching for a clue.

Leaning into his touch, you replied, “Everything. Everything that we have. You, the sky, this meadow. And how I could live like this forever, if I had the chance.”

His eyes softened, the corners of his mouth lifting. “What if we could?”

You blinked, brows furrowing slightly. “What do you mean, Javi?”

As you intertwined your fingers with his, you felt the stickiness of his palms. In all your years of being with him, either as a friend or more, you’d only ever seen him get nervous a couple of times. Once when he had to give a presentation about his family, and another when he confessed his love to you.

Growing up with him, you got to see parts of his life that others didn’t. It was difficult to achieve a stable feeling of privacy in Laredo, but somehow you and he managed to do just that. As children, it meant late nights “camping” behind the house even in the muggy summer heat. In your teenage years, that meant late nights on rooftops and on the outskirts of Chucho’s ranch with beers and snacks. You’d sit by the fence and watch the moonlight reflect off the river, only to scoot behind some bushes when boats loaded with drugs trudged through.

As adults, it meant driving out to the middle of nowhere and simply being together. With university and then work keeping you apart, you’d both learned that the most important thing was to simply exist together. To be there for each other when it mattered, and cherish the time that you had. Even if it was just for a little while.

You gasped as he got down onto one knee, his chest rising and falling deeply. The bright sun highlighted the silky waves atop his head, turning the deep brown into a radiant ochre. He looked like a prince, his back straight and his shoulders broad as he finally met your eyes.

“Mi amor,” he began, voice like velvet, “mi cielo, you’re the morning sun shining through my window when I wake up. You’re the cool breeze in the afternoon. You’re the stars glittering in the night sky. Hell, you’re the entire galaxy.” His eyes shone with adoration as he looked up at you from his knelt position. “You’re my everything, Y/N. I know I’m not perfect, nor will I ever be, but I will do my best for you.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring. The band was simple, but artfully wrapped around a sparkling gem. “Y/N L/N, will you marry me?”

Tears dripped down your face as his words soaked in, filling you with a warmth reminiscent of late nights roasting marshmallows and cuddling by a fire. Unable to get the words out, you nodded urgently and held out your left hand.

Eyes shining, Javi slid the ring onto your finger. It fit you perfectly, as if it were made just for you. And it was true.

Then it all came crashing down.

You were in your dressing room when you found out. Your best friend had just put the finishing touches on your appearance. Although you were a ball of nerves, you were excited. You were going to marry your best friend, the one. Javi was yours, and you were his.

Or so you thought.

Seeing him again over a decade later drowned you in a wave of emotions. Part of you was still heartbroken. You’d really thought that you were going to be together forever, like you dreamed of as children. But then he left you, his family, and Laredo to go chase after one of many drug lords in Colombia. He may have been yours, but you weren't his.

The ring on your finger twinkled mockingly.

---And it would’ve been sweet

If it could’ve been me---

Tagging:

Permanent taglist: @cinewhore @randomness501 @pedropascalisadilf @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @catfishingmorales @halfwaythereroyal @fioccodineveautunnale @talesfromtheguild @tortles @ladamari68 @theokatcov @snivellusim @starryluce @inked-poet @this-cat-is-dea @shewritesandplants @chews-erotically @thefandomimagines @emesispo @mindless--ramblings

Folklore series taglist: none so far, bc I wrote this too fast and everyone was asleep 😂

Let me know if you’d like to be added to either of the taglists!

#javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier pena x reader #javi peña #narcos #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal x reader #folklore #my writing

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purplejellosg1 · 4 years

Note

16 for Sam x Jack, please? 💙

The Stillness Between Prompt!fic - 16 Daybreak

It was a gradual process, the slow rising of the sun banishing the darkness of night once more. Streaks of pinks and purples and orange coloured the sky, and the sun itself glowed like a flame through the trees that marred its ascent over the horizon. Though she loved the night sky and the stars that were visible against the inky black, there was something peaceful about waking in time to see the dawning of a new day.

She sat on the chair on the small wooden dock, listening to the dawn chorus as the waking birds called out to one another and flew from their nests to embrace the day. A mist rose off the surface of the pond as the water slowly began to heat, though she knew from experience it would remain cool most of the day – certainly not warm enough to go skinny dipping, no matter how many times a certain General suggested it with a grin and a wink.

She closed her eyes to listen to the sounds of the world waking up around her, and took a deep breath in, exhaling slowly. The scents of dew damp grass and delicate blossom soothed her, and she wished not for the first time that she'd come to the cabin much sooner than she had.

There was something almost magical about the place Jack had kept inviting her to; something that just felt like home. As she sat on the dock, an oversized sweatshirt that held his scent wrapped around her shoulders, she felt like she could finally breathe for the first time in a very long time.

For a moment, she allowed herself to imagine that they could stay at the cabin forever. That they could forget about their jobs, about the real world that existed along the dirt path that wound its way through the trees towards civilisation. Oh, she wouldn’t want to be cut off completely - she’d be open to visitors, like Cassie and Daniel and Teal’c - but there was something appealing about the thought of being away from it all, just the two of them. “Coffee?” She caught the fragrance of the freshly brewed beverage before she heard his voice, a little rougher than usual due to the early hour.

Turning to accept it with a grateful smile, Sam thought he looked adorable with his sleep mused hair and the lines of the pillow still creasing his cheek but thought better of saying it aloud. Instead, she memorised the image he presented and stored it deep in her memory so she could summon it whenever she needed it. “Thank you. I hope I didn’t wake you.” He shrugged and sat down in the chair beside her, sipping from his own mug. “I don’t usually sleep in when I’m up here. Woke up and you were gone, though. Everything alright?” Her smile grew, her eyes bright with affection she made no attempt at disguising. She didn’t need to, not anymore. “Everything’s fine. Better than fine.” She took a sip from her cup, smiling again when she realised he’d made it exactly the way she liked it. She saw from the quirk of his eyebrow that he wasn’t convinced and that just made her want to smile all the more. “Really, I’m fine.”

Part of her felt guilty about smiling so much, but she found she couldn’t help it. She hadn’t had much to smile about over the last few months, but she finally felt she was content with the world and the circumstances she’d found herself in.

Yes, she’d lost her father and buried him not more than a month before, but she’d also been fortunate to have so much more time with him than she’d expected, years in which they’d managed to not only repair their damaged relationship but grow closer than she’d ever imagined they could be. She missed him, of course she missed him, but she was so grateful for the time they’d had together.

“What time are Daniel and Teal’c getting here?” She asked instead of trying to explain it; they’d ventured to the cabin a few days before their teammates, partly because they’d had a lot to talk about and partly because both Daniel and Teal’c had coincidentally found things they just had to do before they could join them. Sam didn’t believe their excuses for one moment but, again, she was grateful to them for allowing herself and Jack to have some time to themselves.

The new normal, as it was, had been surprisingly easy to adapt to. The shift in their relationship had been a long time in coming and, although they’d agreed to take things one step at a time, she didn’t think she’d ever tire of waking up beside him, cocooned in his arms and in the knowledge that - finally - they were together.

“Daniel sent a text to say they’ll be here around noon.”

Sam nodded but didn’t comment. She let her gaze wander around at their tranquil surroundings, noting that the rising sun was starting to warm the air, too, and highlight the ripples in the pond he’d said held no fish.

After eight years of perfecting their silent communication, they found they didn’t need to speak their thoughts aloud. Sam reached out to take his hand, smiling to herself at the easiness of it all. She smiled again as he laced his fingers through hers, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye to see the satisfied grin on his face.

Though she wouldn’t change the journey they’d taken to get to this point, Sam found herself enjoying the stillness, the silence, the precious moments where they could just be.

#sjfic #myfic #sj fic #sam x jack #sam and jack #that which was asked

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gilded-green · 3 years

Note

In celebration of the 10th anniversary, I’ll probably reread GG and send updates/highlight areas and as for commentary. Probably XD

But first. What aspect of Gilded Green was your favorite? What was something you put in a lot of world building for but never got to show either in fic or on tumblr. Who is your favorite character and why, what makes them special in your eyes? Which character has turned into a completely different one as soon as you started writing them? Which part of the fic did you like most when you finished it, do you still like it? Similarly, which part do you dislike most?

Lasty, anything about gg2’s story you want to share/talk about/rant?

-love, the dai li fangirl

Haha, no pressure! But at the same time yes if you do feel free to send me passages for commentary here! <3

What aspect was my favorite? Hmmm. *thinking face* I think, when I first came up with it, I was just thrilled to have these two small things - minor character Lu Ten, overlooked villain organization Dai Li - that I was able to combine into something so big. That was pretty nifty!

As I started developing the story, I think what really caught my attention was the fact that “Wow, all these characters are awful people!” Like. The Dai Li aren’t good.The Fire Nation aren’t good. Lu Ten is a victim but also an oppressor. All off these people have extremely different beliefs and worldviews - Fire supremacist, police state enforcers, classist academic gatekeepers - and all of them think THEY’RE in the right here and none of them are. I think Tien and Hoang might be the only people with a decent, non-oppressive worldview in the story so far. XD I was growing out of the storytelling trope of black-and-white morality at the time, so it was really fun to start experimenting with writing awful people as enjoyable, sympathetic characters.

World building? Hmm. I was just learning how to use my worldbuilding muscles back then. I seem to remember reading up a lot on how brainwashing actually works in the real world and going “I don’t think this is compatible with what we have in ATLA” and just kinda tossing that whole thing out. XD I also recall looking up a lot of stuff for the bits about Jouin, some of which - kalua pig! - has since shown up again in WFFD. I also recall someone on FFdotnet at the time saying “All this chapter did was tell us more about a dead character than the living one” and I was just kinda like -_- yes because he is DEAD and this is your chance to feel sorry about that, we’ll get plenty more of the living one later on account of him still being, y’know, alive. XD

Oh, and Shirong’s personal side projects. I finally got into that a bit in A Meeting of Minds, but the dude DOES have his own stuff going on, which Delun so rudely interrupted to drag him off to see Long Feng about brainwashing a Firebender.

I also did a bunch of research for the birthday party interlude, I think. Mostly appropriate alcohol for such an occasion? And....okay, this’ll sound funny, but.....food containers. I wanted Fen to pack up leftovers for Suyin and Shirong. That’s what my Italian family does after get-togethers, and I assumed that a Chinese family/friend group would do the same! But I also had, like, zero exposure to everyday Chinese life, let alone everyday Chinese life in the 1800s, and I just didn’t have the...idk, cultural osmosis? to figure it out. Like, if you asked me how Victorians would transfer food I’d probably come up with “Idk, wrap it in cloth and stuff it in a basket?” and I assumed people living in modern China would also be able to explain what their people did for food storage/transport 150 years ago but I didn’t have that cultural background, now, did I??? Also this was 10-12 years ago I was looking this up, mind you, the internet was still very different, there was plenty of information on Chinese historical events but not on everyday life objects, CDramas weren’t easy to find if they were translated at all and I certainly didn’t know they existed, and no one was posting beautiful aesthetic videos of life in a rural Chinese mountain village to youtube yet. Eventually I learned that bamboo baskets were a thing, but there wasn’t much info on THOSE either and I wasn’t sure how to describe them, so I just tentatively typed “basket” and called it a day. XD

YOU CANNOT ASK ME TO CHOOSE MY FAVORITE CHARACTER THAT’S LIKE ASKING ME TO CHOOSE BETWEEN MY CHILDREN!!! *shoves Yong off a cliff*

I’m very fond of the Dai family, along with the Trungs and Sais. I’m very proud of how Tuan turned out. I adore Yuan, who you’ve barely met, and Xun, who you haven’t. Huang and Wu Sheng are also definite faves and I can’t wait for y’all to get to know them better.

Characters do usually behave for me in terms of personality development. They surprise me, but they never really turn out to be the complete OPPOSITE of what I was expecting? They just kinda develop organically. Huang and Wu Sheng surprised me, tho, those boys got deep. I knew they had the potential, but developing their backstory actually caused Stingrae and I to develop Ba Sing Se’s socio-political backstory and Long Feng’s rise to power, all because of an inkling I had. That was a very satisfying few years of worldbuilding and story development.

Um, favorite part of the fic....idk, I’m very fond of the final scene, with Azula and her wall chunk from Lu Ten. I’m doubly fond of it because of how it always resonates with readers. Heck, during Azula week last year, I used that chunk of rock as an ongoing theme in Sandstone, and someone commented like “I DIDN’T REALIZE YOU’RE THE ONE WHO WROTE GILDED GREEN” and that made me really happy!

Lu Ten’s time stuck underground - I used the seven stages of grief to get through that one and it was very helpful in structuring that part of the story, and I figured it was deep or something because PSYCHOLOGY.

I’m also proud of myself for getting through the dark brainwashing scenes. So, like, FYI, fanfiction could get...very dark, back in the 00s. People love to play purity police these days and complain about how nasty people get can, but listen. Listen. Do you have any idea how dark FFdotnet got back in the day? Legolas And Aragorn Get Captured By Orcs And Brutally Tortured was an entire genre. I feel like torture fic was actually a lot more common back then, and darkfic in general - I’m sure someone could write a whole thesis on why it’s not so prevalent anymore, I’m gonna guess the fact that fandom is less-insulated and more public now could be part of it, maybe also the fact that the internet is more social media/influencer culture based so people care about their image, and also the purity police which is its own kettle of worms, but I also think that the Bush Administration had something to do with it? You have all these kids who were pre-teens when 9/11 happened, growing up during the Iraq War with an awful presidential administration while everyone was scared and conservative Christianity started to realize that their control over the nation’s “morality” might be slipping and reacted accordingly......yeah there was a lot of darkfic back then.

And I read a lot of darkfic too, but, uh....well, statistically speaking, a lot of writing is bad, okay? A lot of those fics were just weird; you could see where the writer had this idea, and also where they failed to execute it in a way that resonated or made sense. And whatever, writers were young and just wanted to pound out some catharsis, it’s cool, but it still just felt narratively awkward when you could tell how the writer was more focused on LET’S MAKE THIS AS DARK AS POSSIBLE instead of “Let’s tell this as well as possible.”

So the first several attempts at writing the brainwashing scenes, I was nervous because I didn’t want to get TOO dark, and when I finally decided “eff it” and said to Stingrae “I think I need to let this be as dark as it needs to be” I was still nervous because I didn’t want it to end up WEIRD. Idk if that makes sense, but anyway I seem to have done a decent job at it!

As for parts I dislike the most, uhhhhh Iroh’s retreat (I didn’t care, I just wanted to get it over with), Enlai might’ve been promoted too fast? idk, the fact that I came up with Nanyue AFTER I finished publishing GG so I couldn’t work that into the Quy bits, the fact that I was young and innocent and didn’t understand sexual slang or innuendo and randomly chose Dong as the name of the court physician which could lead to some awful puns except no one ever seemed to pick up on that and maybe I’ll regret pointing it out but the man IS going to appear again so I might as well get the first shot in myself. XD

I might have GG2 stuff to talk about but not sure, if I do I’ll make another post on that!

#GG tumblr escapades #GG 10th anniversary

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konpithepuppy · 3 years

Text

[TRANSLATION: POTATO 05.2021]

7 MEN SAMURAI SOLO INTERVIEW

Scans not mine

Neither an English nor a Japanese native speaker

Feel free to correct me, thanks

LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT

A gravure of 6 people who gives off a wonderful aura that seems like will make you fall in love the moment your eyes meet. In the interview, the members's value towards "love at first sight" is highlighted. (The interview was done at the middle of March.)

Questions:

Q1. Does love at first sight exist?

Q2. What specific first impression of a girl has a good impression on you?

Q3. What is the item that you fell in love at first sight and bought it?

Konno Taiki

A1. It is relatively possible (LOL).

But, not just based on the appearance, I may also be attracted to her inner side. I think I will find her cute when I try talking to her and will find out that she is an honest and airheaded girl. Basically, since I want for the move to come from me (T/N: lit. push myself harder), so on the contrary, I don't like to be told, "I fell in love with you at first sight." Without suddenly asking her contact address, I want to do things step by step (LOL). And then, when I also think that it is okay on her side (T/N: lit. she's good), I want to confess to her finally.

A2. Since I like someone who is an airhead, I can recognize if the person is an airhead or not on the first meeting. Since there is something that impresses only me (LOL). Being too much of an airhead is a problem but I like someone who is an airhead to an extent that I can tease. When she said something wrong, I want to pester her saying, "Can you try saying it again?" (LOL).

A3. I like a lot the black bomber jacket that I bought last year. I like the color black, and I came to like simple styles too. I first saw it in the internet but I am the type who buys things that I have seen in actual so I went to see it at the actual store and bought it there.

Recent Happening

I want to go and buy spring clothes but I refrain from going out too much so I can't go and buy...An email from the brand that I like came saying, "Our new collection is out" and I desperately want those (LOL). I buy sweater and parka every year but this year I am greatly troubled [whether to go out and buy or not]!

Nakamura Reia

A1. It totally exists! Since the personality shows on the face, if I like the face then I will like the personality too I think. I think the type of person I will like depends on the situation I am in at that moment. Like, I think a person who seems kind when I am tired is nice, and I will be attracted to a person who looks like I can have fun with when I am in high-spirit. But, on the contrary, I might get turned off at the person who falls in love at me at first sight.

Since I am putting a fake face in front of a person who I am meeting for the first time (LOL). It is not the first impression but I feel really being liked when the person responses back to me as an answer to my approach.

A2. More than being fixed with clothes that are in trend, I like better a person who shows "I like this!" with her clothes and small accessories. I want her to be a nerd of something. We will be excited together if we have the same hobby, and if we have different hobbies, I want her to teach me her hobby. For example, I am an indoor type but if she likes fishing, I want for us to try doing it together.

A3. A black setup with a dragon embroidery on it. It is very stern (LOL), but the material is very soft and it feels good wearing it, and I don't have to think of a coordinate so it is easy to wear. I often wear it to the filming site of 「Gekikaradou」.

Recent Happening

I bought a Pachira and started to raise it. Honestly, I wanted an animal but plants are cute too! I usually place it at the entranceway. But I sometimes bring it next to the window so it well get some sunlight.

Yabana Rei

A1.There is. It's just that I am shy of strangers so it takes time for me to make some move. I will consult for roughly a year (LOL).Or perhaps I should say, as long as there's no proof that I can make a move, it may take forever for me to make a move. If it will strangely destroy our relationship then it is better to just stay as friends. Even if a girl falls in love with me at first sight and approached me, I am thickheaded so I will probably not be able to notice it. I will not know if I will not be clearly told, "I like you."

A2. A person who can behave. For example, I like someone who stays silent in a quiet establishment, or someone who can read the room. Also, I think I will be happy with someone who has the same hobby as mine. Like we happen to like the same genre in music. My tension will rise the most with a person who likes cars.

A3. I don't think I am the type who buys impulsively at things that I fall in love at first sight. Even though I falll in love at first sight at something, I'm the type who will think properly about it. The black bass with a drawing of a bird that I bring on stage until now is a bass that I found by chance in an instrument shop. Even though there are other choices, after thinking too much about it, I thought, "The appearance of this one is cool after all," and I went to buy it the next day.

Recent Happening

3 more days and my sticker as a new car driver will be removed! Among the members, Taiko, Konpi (Konno), and Rinne-kun rode already but Taiko and Konpi are substantially banned from riding [my car]. Since they went on a rampage inside the car. They misunderstood a person's car with a jet coaster (LOL).

Motodaka Katsuki

A1. I don't fall in love at first sight but I think 1st impression is important to an extent. I think I will gradually like the person, who I thought is nice during our first meeting, while getting to know her. I am bad at dealing with someone who falls in love with me for the first time! But I am worried that that person will fall in love with another person (LOL). But if that person asked me, "Should we grab for a delicious meal?" I might be lured with food...(LOL). Moreover, I will be like "I know a shop with a delicious taco rice" and it seems like if I was told about something I am a maniac of, I will definitely talk about it.

A2. I am interested with the lips. With natural color, it has a sense of cleanliness, and lips that are not dry is nice. Things like lipsticks with loud colors, I don't like that much those that are shiny. A color that is close to a bare lips has a good impression in me. Wanting to kiss those lips without thinking, lips like that.

A3. I fell in love at a flounder in a fresh fish market and I bought it. Since its body is big, I was thinking that I could fillet it into 5 fillets. I filleted it into 5 fillets immediately at home, and I broiled some in the burner and I also made sushi.

Recent Happening

Abe (Ryohei)-kun gave me a parka from a brand I thought was good before. Before the filming of 「Q-sama!!」, he casually gave it to me saying, "Oh, which reminds me, here." I was really happy but it is super valuable that I can't wear it (LOL).

Sugeta Rinne

A1. I often think, "This person is cute" (LOL). But, I definitely do not tell it out loud! Finally, when I liked her inner side, I might be the type who will advance to being a boyfriend from being a friend. Even if how cute the person is, I don't like those who use words like 「w」

「草」「sore na」 in mails (LOL). (T/N: w = laugh (LOL), 草 = literally, it means grass but people in the internet use it like "w" which means "laugh (LOL)" because "w" looks like a grass) Conversely, I will be a happy if a person falls in love with me at first sight, but I will completely doubt and ask, "Really?" If I am invited as a friend and gets confessed to, then my suspicions may loosen.

A2. A person who has silky hair, light makeup, and without colored contact lens. To exert a great amount of effort to be pretty is wonderful, but I think I like it better when it is not overly done. I like a neat and tidy person who looks good in white tops and denim pants!

A3. Before, I often fell in love at first sight with clothes, but I have a lot of failed purchases from buying clothes without trying them on. Like, when I bought a black long tee with a lion print on it, it turned out to be a dress for ladies (LOL). What I am currently aiming at is a sneaker with orange print on a white background. Since I haven't tried it on, I plan to buy it after I tried wearing it.

Recent Happening

Since I don't move extremely in the stage play「Hidamari no Ki」, my muscles toned down. My belly is protruding because of gastroptosis, so I was asked "Are you full?" during the dressing of Hakama (LOL). I must go back to training.

Sasaki Taiko

A1. There is. Isn't love in this world is approximately like that? I think there's not much of those who advance from friends to lovers. But since I want to know things about the other party, I want for us to exchange messages for around a month. And then, I want to meet the parents. Since it seems like we can properly date if I know the parents.

A2. A girl with pretty legs. I maybe looking at the legs more than the face. I like those girls who take care of their legs. But that doesn't mean I like girls to wear mini skirt, I am on the pants side. Lately, I think I came to like those pants like flare pants where it is tight in the thigh area.

A3. A large quantity of water from a large supermarket. 500mL of water came in a set of 40 bottles and it was very cheap. Also, I impulsively bought toilet paper. I bought so many that everything can't fit in the house so I gave some to my high school friend (LOL). Since I got my driver's license, I can now go in the supermarket alone and I go there around once a week lately. It feels like, "I've become an adult~." My next aim is the big potato chips!

Recent Happening

In the "Taiko Challenge" in ISLAND TV, when I uploaded a video of putting candy into a carbonated drink, I was surprised that the official account of the candy tweeted about it. Moreover, it is in English. Isn't that amazing? A CM may come after that...it will be my advance to the world. I might really do it! (LOL)

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