#I thought the anniversary was in june but nope | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pmpknspcaholic · 2 months

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Not Just Yet

[Just a little something I wrote based off my other post about the code name for s4 being Vauxhall and doing a little digging that led me to finding out that reenactments of the Battle of Waterloo were held at the Vauxhall Gardens during the years of Bridgerton. Thought it would be an interesting opportunity for Philoise to meet.]

1816

Miss Eloise Bridgerton was winded as she quickened her step. Just a few more feet and she would finally reach the farthest section of tents that had been erected for the day’s activities. Chancing a look back towards the direction she’d left her mother, Eloise froze when she thought she saw the exact shade of rich violet her mother had worn that day come into view.

Squinting her eyes in an attempt to see better, she let out a sigh of relief. Nope, someone else’s meddling mother.

Turning again, Eloise decided not to take any more chances and hastened her steps to the very last tent in a long row of about eight. Managing not to trip over the ropes anchoring the tent to the ground, she made her way towards the next tent in the following row which led towards where everyone gathered was heading. Breathing in the fresh scents of the garden just beyond the trees to her left, Eloise looked past the groups of people walking in the direction of the open field beyond. Two rows of tall trees lined both sides of the field and within its long width stood many many groups of similarly dressed men. Eloise couldn’t remember ever seeing so many people at a social event. But then again, this wasn’t just an ordinary event.

This year, a reenactment was being hosted at the Vauxhall Gardens to mark the anniversary of the Battle of Waterloo. Many were expected to be in attendance, the gathering having been advertised as such a significant event for many weeks now. Hardly anyone in her family had wanted to miss out. Especially Gregory, because word had spread that numerous regiments of soldiers would be there to fill the roles of both the French and British armies.

Eloise hadn’t been that keen on the event itself, but she hadn’t minded the idea of an entertainment. Then again, she hadn’t expected her mother to seize onto the opportunity, with so many men about, to start shoving suitors her way again. Claiming in need of refreshment, Eloise had managed to hasten away before her mother had spied the next gentleman on her newly penned list of eligible suitors.

Reaching the edge near the opening of the tent, she peeked around for any sight of her family. But after looking down as far as she could see, Eloise relaxed enough to remain just within the edge of the long line of tents. Smiling with her momentary success, she tilted her head back and felt the heat of the sun.

It should have been hot being June and having so many people about, but there was a mischievous breeze fluttering about from between the trees. One minute slightly calm and the next erratic and wild. She enjoyed the feel as it brushed over her skin, soothing and fragrant. But not entirely noise free. Looking to her right, she saw the edge of the tent’s fabric around the opening was, at times, aggressively flapping back and forth. The wind stilled briefly allowing her to notice there was a severely ripped corner resulting in the fabric having to be tied down further along the edge at the bottom.

Oh well. There was nothing she could do about it, having no wish to seek out a different spot and chance having her mother see her. But at least it had shown her that the tent seemed to be empty, which she had already assumed, having not heard any voices nor seen any shadows within thus far. The few glimpses she’d managed to see of the interior showed her the contents inside were only a couple of tables laden with refreshments. All for the soldiers no doubt since she also spied some of their military equipment piled up at the other side of the opening.

Turning away, she glanced again over the crowds for any sign of her family, but all seemed oddly in her favor. For who knew how long that is. But she had no desire to waste any more moments worrying about being able to maintain this brief peace.

Eloise turned her attention to the field. She crossed her arms over her chest and settled in to enjoy the military battle taking formation as more and more soldiers gathered around. But just when her attention was about to fully be caught up in the excitement on the field, that erratic wind decided to be mischievous again and caught the loose corner of the tent whipping it back so far it revealed a man standing just inside the tent practically right next to her.

She froze in shock even as her gaze took in the sight of him as the tent flap whipped back and forward more forcefully. Where had he come from? Her gaze combed over him. He wasn’t dressed as a soldier, wearing instead the finer garments of a gentleman. His dark green jacket clung to him smartly, the shade handsome paired with his white shirt, yellow waistcoat and dark pants. Having been subjected to many suitors, Eloise felt for certain she had never seen him before out in society.

There were fewer people about now and those even remotely near all had their backs to her and the gentleman as everyone’s attention was drawn to the battle starting up as the sound of drums filled the air. Which meant that the two of them were basically alone.

She should have left at that very moment and yet a startling curiosity filled Eloise as her gaze came back to his face.

The wind whipped at his honey brown locks, but he didn’t react as it made a mess of it about his head. He had such a forlorn look on his face, his gaze staring out ahead of him, but not seeming to really be seeing those beyond even when some of the soldiers on the field grew to be terribly loud. This led Eloise to think perhaps he might not even be aware that she was there.

She was startled from her thoughts when horns blared out on the field. Looking back at the gentleman to see if he’d been jolted by the noise too and spotted her, she was surprised instead when his expression broke ever so fleetingly before he turned his face away from her.

He pulled out a handkerchief and Eloise heard him clear his throat. It was at this moment that she realized she was intruding in his desire for solace and composure. That the battle must be having an effect on him which had led him to seek out a space alone.

Deciding to leave, it was unfortunate that right at the moment Eloise turned, the loose corner of the tent swung so violently in the wind that it smacked against her leg. Startled, she jumped back and bumped into a tree branch behind her back. Managing to remain upright on her feet, Eloise stepped away enough to get clear of branches but barely managed to not trip over the rope at her feet.

“Are you alright?”

Eloise glanced towards the inquiring voice to find a set of kind blue eyes. The blue eyes of the gentleman she had not wanted to disturb. The gentleman who was now holding aside the loose flap of the tent to better direct his kind, and now accessing, blue eyes at her.

“I’m terribly sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude. I was just looking for a moment alone,” she said quickly, feeling bad about having bothered him but not wanting to reveal the truth of why she had been there to begin with.

The gentleman shook his head as a look of concern crossed his face, “You’re welcome to remain. Did you lose someone in the battle as well?”

Eloise felt her cheeks heat to near burning as she realized her foolishness.

“No, I didn’t,” she admitted. Here she was trying to escape her mother’s unrelenting matchmaking attempts when of course others were here grieving those lost in the war. How absurd of her. Looking to rectify her mistake, she asked, “Who are you here to commemorate?”

A warmth filled the gentleman’s calm blue eyes, “My brother, George.”

“I’m so sorry. You were close?”

“Yes,” he exclaimed, then paused and glanced away regaining the look on his face from just moments ago. “Yes,” he added much more quietly.

Seeing the obvious grief over his loss surprisingly tugged at feelings Eloise thought she’d locked away some time ago. Without meaning to, she admitted, “I know how you feel.”

Her eyes flew to his where she saw him studying her. Eloise should have found his quiet observation of her awkward, after all, she wasn’t one for silent observations. She much preferred voicing and sharing her thoughts and ideals.

It had been a miracle she’d survived her time in Scotland at the Kilmartin estate with her sister, Francesca, Francesca’s husband John Stirling, the Earl of Kilmartin, and his mother as company. All individuals who thrived in moments of silence. Michaela, John’s more sociable cousin, had been there too, but even she, after a time, had seemed to relish the silence of the castle. More often than not, Eloise had found her lost in deep thought.

But here now, she oddly found something comforting in the gentleman’s demeaner. As if he knew how hard sharing of her loss was for Eloise and that if he uttered even one word it might result in her deflecting.

Surprising herself, Eloise held his gaze and said, “My father, when I was much younger. He died after being stung by a bee.”

The gentleman frowned, but merely said, “You loved him?”

“We all did, yes. He was the kindest man I knew.”

“You have my deepest sympathies.”

Eloise turned away from his understanding gaze when she felt tears start to sting the corner of her eyes. Directing her gaze forward, she watched the men as they started to line up in formation, a few others walked the lines while shouting orders.

She hadn’t anticipated the feeling of losing her father to hit her so unexpectedly. Taking a deep breath, she realized it had been some time since she’d allowed herself to truly think back to the moment such a small thing as a bee had so easily befallen such a great man as her father had been.

The silence stretched as she tried to rein her feelings back in. But eventually, being who she was, Eloise started to feel awkward in the silence again, especially if she discovered the gentleman to still be watching her.

Glancing at him from the corner of her eye, she saw that he too had turned his attention towards the men. She couldn’t help feeling appreciative that he had given her time to compose herself. On second glance, he almost seemed quite happy with the moment spent in shared reflection. She detected a slight smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Unfortunately for her, it was starting to gnaw at her nerves because she was finding herself suddenly intrigued and wanting to find out more about him. This gentleman that had shown immeasurable consideration when most would have come up with any excuse to avoid the threat of female tears.

Contemplating a safe topic, she turned to him and asked, “Have you been in London long? Are you here for the season?”

He turned his head and directed his open gaze at her, “No. I’m merely here for the commemoration. My interests don’t often give me reason to come to London.”

“And what interests are those,” Elosie asked, her curiosity peaked by just about anything that had nothing to do with the social season, but then she froze when she realized how improper her question might be perceived. She had to remind herself that they were strangers after all who hadn’t been properly introduced. Good heavens, they hadn’t even exchanged names. Her mother would be mortified. This gentleman could be a lord for all she knew. And in her experience, to many didn’t like to share such information believing it shouldn’t be of any concern to the gentler sex. Quickly, she added, “If you don’t mind my asking?”

But to her surprise, his eyebrow shot up and he smiled, “I don’t mind at all. I am a botanist. I have a greenhouse at my residence where I conduct experiments. Do you do any gardening?”

Eloise’s face fell, “I don’t, no.” But then she quickly added, “I can’t say I’ve ever put much thought into botany, but I am curious about the experiments you mentioned. Could you tell me more?”

The gentleman’s face actually beamed. So much so, that Eloise experienced a moment of excitement. She knew it was ridiculous, but rarely anymore did she have anyone to talk to about things beyond what others believed women should only concern themselves with. Penelope, the one person Eloise used to be able to share just about anything with, was more often than not quite occupied with Colin, Pen's husband and Eloise’s brother, and their son.

The gentleman stepped outside the tent towards her and open his mouth to speak, but then the excitement of the moment came to an immediate halt when behind her, she heard, “Eloise Bridgerton, mother is looking for you.”

Eloise tensed as her heart sank. Gritting her teeth, she reluctantly turned to find not only her brother Benedict, but Colin as well, walking towards her. Heavens, her mother must be really concerned if she had managed to convince these two to look in between the tents to find her.

She opened her mouth to acknowledge them when Colin glanced behind her then excitedly exclaimed, “Sir Phillip Crane! I’m glad you could come.”

“Mister Bridgerton, I arrived just yesterday. Thank you for getting word to me about the commemoration.”

Shocked, it took many moments to sink in what had just been revealed. Eloise looked at the gentleman whose face had immensely brightened as he shook her brother’s hand in greeting.

Sir Phillip Crane? As in Marina Thompson’s husband. The same Marina, who had been Colin’s fiancée before scandal had ended their courtship. Lady Crane. Good heavens, Eloise found herself confounded by the realization that she had been conversing with a married gentleman.

“Eloise, I wasn’t aware you had met Sir Crane.”

Thankfully, Sir Crane rescued her from responding to Colin’s inquiry, “Only just now. We stumbled upon each other here in between the tents. I had lost my way and Miss Bridgerton was kind enough to direct me. We got to briefly conversing and she displayed an interest in my work.”

“Is that right,” Benedict turned to her, his tone one she’d heard many times when he was just about to tease her. But the look on her face must have given him pause for he asked more quietly, “Eloise, are you alright?”

Pushing her disbelief and disappointment aside, she pulled herself together and she quickly exclaimed, “Yes of course. I’ll just go find mother, shall I?” Taking a deep breath, she plastered a smile on her face and turned to Sir Crane, “Sir Crane, it was a pleasure speaking with you.”

Now looking quite solemn, Sir Crane gently said, “The pleasure was all mine, Miss Bridgerton.”

He bowed to her then and Eloise curtsied in response. She stepped away towards her brothers and quickly turned to flee past them. She didn’t dare look up feeling Benedict’s gaze boring into her face. Hastening back towards the direction she had initially fled from, Eloise heard her brother Colin’s excited voice as he began telling Sir Crane--oh god, Marina’s husband--all about his travels and the book he had written.

Don’t look back, Eloise, don’t look back, she told herself as she neared the edge of the tent. Without thought, she tried her best to put one foot in front of the other.

But the need to glance back clawed at her. She just wanted one last look before the moment was completely lost to her.

Reaching the edge of the tent, she grabbed onto a rope and turned, her eyes immediately locking on Sir Crane standing with one of her brothers on either side of him. Eloise stumbled on her next step, barely steading herself when the very second her seeking gaze found his face, his swiftly flew up and intertwined with hers.

Eloise’s experience with men was pretty limited. She had received two proposals while she’d been in Scotland, but neither gentleman had led her to believe they would support her interests in furthering her education and becoming more familiar with the world. So, any intentions towards courtship had been quickly nipped in the bud much to her mother’s later disappointment when she’d found out. So, having the opportunity to converse with a gentleman most eager to share in an intellectual conversation with her stripped away felt oddly gut wrenching.

Eloise groaned. How positively pathetic. And yet there it was. The loneliness she had been trying to ignore since the wedding of Pen to Colin. A loneliness she thought she could get over during her stay in Scotland. But no. Not even applying herself to reading and expanding her interests had distracted her from longing for someone she could truly talk to, who wouldn’t judge or discourage her regardless the possible topic.

After another moment locked in a sort of wordless exchange with this gentleman she barely knew but achingly wanted to know better, Eloise turned from him again and blindly walked away, not really knowing where she was going. But one last thought relentlessly lingered. She couldn’t help thinking that the disappointment and regret she was feeling was the exact thing she saw mirrored back at her just now in Sir Crane’s steady blue gaze.

A couple of years later

“It’s just a condolence letter, doesn’t mean anything,” Eloise muttered to herself.

Letting out a larger than normal puff of air, she dropped her head onto her hand and looked about her mother’s small writing room. Like much of the rest of her mother’s dowager residence, the writing room was comfortably furnished with plush chairs, ornate tables, a sturdy yet delicate looking desk and various vases overflowing with flagrant flowers.

It shouldn’t have surprised Eloise that it had become one of her favorite rooms to slip away to read in since she’d returned from her first visit to Scotland. Her new bedchamber in her mother’s home wasn’t lacking in any way, much the same as her other family residence bedchambers, but for some reason, it just felt lacking compared to the bedchamber she’d stayed in at the Kilmartin residence which had looked out over the estates’ well-kept garden.

And if she was being honest, there was much that just hadn’t felt right within herself. Not for some time at least. Things for her had improved. Her family supported her more in her interests in learning more scholarly pursuits and traveling. She’d even accompanied Colin and Pen a time or two when they’d traveled the continent. And she’d convinced her brother Anthnoy on letting her tag along the next time he and Kate visited India.

And yet she still felt a desire for more. Which was ridiculous surely. Right?

Feeling exasperated, Eloise turned the chair behind her mother's desk towards the window to look over the flowering trees out behind the house.

What was ridiculous really was that she had spent four days now arguing with herself over something that should have been such a simple task. Five days ago, Eloise had gone to call on Penelope and learned that Sir Phillip Crane had paid them a call two days before that with news of Marina’s passing.

After the initial shock, Eloise had left a questioning Pen and sought out this small fragrant writing room for . . . . . . oh she still didn’t really even know. It shouldn’t have been so hard. Writing condolences to those who’d just lost a loved one was a pretty common thing. Nothing at all improper about it. Just a quick note to express that her thoughts were with him in his time of need.

Eloise chocked on her next breath. Oh, heavens no! She couldn’t say it like that.

Resting her chin on her hand, she squinted her eyes thinking she could somehow find the answer hidden in the puffy clouds slowly floating past in the calm blue sky.

Why was she making this so difficult. It wasn’t like she had overly obsessed about him those few days after their encounter. Then again, that might very well have had to do with the fact that any time thoughts of him had tried to invade, always seemly at the oddest times, she’d quickly shoved them aside. And she hadn’t at all compared the few gentlemen that had tried to court her since to him. Replaying in her mind how delighted he had seemed to want to engage in an intellectual conversation about his work with her. The fact that he even engaged in such work where many other gentlemen only seemed interested in sport and conversing with other men was a fascinating appeal that she had hastily tried to quell at every opportunity.

Sighing, Eloise stood and paced the length of the room.

It didn’t have to mean anything, she reminded herself. People sent letters of condolence all the time to those they knew. Uh, barely knew. And besides, he was probably going to be receiving a lot of letters from others. Hers could very well get lost in the mix or even disregarded. Eloise frowned. No, she didn’t see Sir Crane being the type of gentleman to do that. But surely this was a most trying time for him. And receiving correspondence from others would be a comfort to him.

It was this very thought that just about convinced her enough that she was doing the right thing.

Writing to him was a most proper thing to do. After all, even though Marina had been briefly engaged to Colin, Eloise herself, had barely known her. All the information that she knew about her had come through Pen. And if Sir Crane was on such great terms with his wife’s ex-fiancé, surely there was nothing wrong with the ex-fiancé’s sister expressing her sympathies. Right? Right!

“Nothing at all improper about it,” she exclaimed. Hurrying back to the desk she sat down, took up the quill and hastily wrote Sir Phillip Crane. Looking down at her writing, she couldn’t help feeling quite elated with herself, “Well, I’ve written that. And since I’ve got that much down, I can’t very well not write the rest. Just a letter of condolence after all.”

“Did you say something dear,” Eloise’s mother suddenly appeared in the doorway.

Eloise’s head snapped up to find her mother walking towards her. Dropping the quill, she stood and slid the book she had been reading the last few days over the piece of parchment.

Hoping her mother hadn’t noticed nor suspected what she was up to, she quickly said, “Nope nope, just mumbling to myself over this absurd book and its findings.”

Reaching the front of the desk, her mother’s gaze dropped down to the cover of the book, “You’re reading one of your brother’s agriculture books?”

“Yes. I ran out of things to read, so I borrowed it. It’s been quite informative, well except for the findings, of course. But the next time Anthony drones on about soil, I’ll have an idea of what he’s talking about.”

Her mother stared at her looking slightly concerned, but after a few seconds merely said, “Alright dear.”

Eloise held her breath as she pointedly watched her mother turn and leave, her fleeting steps somehow managing to sound just as flabbergasted and worrying as her tone and expressions normally did. Once she was sure her mother was truly gone, Eloise dropped back down in the desk chair, tossed the book aside, grabbed up the quill and hastily started scribbling again.

“It’s just a letter to express my condolences,” she whispered to herself. “That’s all.”

#eloise bridgerton #philoise #phillip crane #bridgerton

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tj-dragonblade · 2 years

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FLUFFBRUARY 2023 Feb 10, 11, 12, & 13

Feb 10 prompts: moment strong neck Feb 11 prompts: unlikely fog anniversary Feb 12 prompts: amber tenderness incandescent Feb 13 prompts: whole steam(ing) first

On AO3 - 3400 words

Another multi-day fill, because 'strong' gave me a good starting scenario but then it took longer than one day and kept growing and each day's words were either already in it or slotted in nicely, which worked out well.

===== "Ohhhh, no. Nope. Uh uh," Hob enunciates, carefully, when Dream has maneuvered them to the foot of the stairs. "Not bloody likely." He sags a little further; Dream hitches Hob's arm higher around the back of his own neck, tightens his arm about Hob's waist to keep him upright.

"Shall I carry you up the stairs, then?" It has been quite the undertaking already, to get Hob from the pub, down the back hall, to here. But Dream finds that he does not. Mind, the effort.

Hob turns to look at him as best he can, through the fog of his inebriation. "Sure, 'f you think you c'n manage?" His tone is lightly sarcastic, lightly scoffing, mirthful; the idea amuses him.

Dream graces him with an impassive stare, then braces Hob's arm across his shoulders and dips fluidly, slides his free arm behind Hob's knees and scoops him easily aloft. "Perhaps."

Hob's eyes are wide, gratifyingly so, and he is quick to grasp at Dream's shoulder to steady himself; Dream shifts his stance to maintain balance.

Dream could, he is aware, have simply passed through his own realm with Hob in tow, emerged directly in Hob's bedroom without half so much effort as he is currently expending.

But then, he would not get to. Carry Hob, this way.

Hob makes a sound that can only be described as a giggle. "Princ'ss carry," he elaborates, shifting his arms more securely around Dream's neck, and then, mumbled: "God's wounds, you're strong."

Dream lets himself preen just a bit, at Hob's praise, but. His thoughts are also circling around Hob's other words, as he starts up the stairs. Princess carry. Also commonly called 'bridal carry'. Often portrayed as highly romantic, in stories.

He wonders if Hob is thinking the same.

He would like. The opportunity, to carry Hob up to his rooms for romantic reasons, but. This is not the time to dwell on such thoughts.

At the door to Hob's flat, he again braces himself steady while Hob fishes his keys from his jacket and fumbles them into the lock. Hob does not ask to be set down; Dream does not offer.

It is cool and dark in Hob's flat. Dream nudges the door closed behind them, moves carefully through the familiarity of the interior with his armful of Hob, to the bedroom. "Not quite how I imagined this," Hob chuckles as Dream sets him down in his unmade bed, and Dream pauses, marginally. Hob's words have struck a note…but no. He will save such thoughts for a sober Hob, should he choose to pursue them, when they both can be. Certain, of their meaning.

However. There is little harm to be had, in seeking further info. "You had designs for this evening, Hob Gadling?"

Hob's face, already flush with alcohol, darkens a little more. "It's our annual…our annivershy," he manages, "an' I thought. Great time, t' finally tell you how I feel, right?"

June 7th. That Hob marks it as an anniversary of such import is. Enchanting. Dream is enchanted, no less so than by Hob's off-hand implication of. Feelings, for Dream.

That much is…unexpected. But not at all unwelcome; it lights a warmth in Dream, that steals the breath he doesn't need, that swells with. Hope.

"But I got ins'cure," Hob continues, mournfully, "an' I thought, okay, a li'l liquid courage, that'll help right? An' then I jus' kept going, and now here we are." He lets out a gusty, dramatic sigh.

Dream would like to kiss him. He will not, not like this. But. He would like to.

"The morning will not be kind to you, Hob," he says instead, a fondness in his voice that is obvious even to him. "You need rest." He touches the sleeve of Hob's jacket. "Let me help you."

Wide-eyed, Hob nods, moves accomodatingly while Dream maneuvers his arms free, lays the garment aside. He considers Hob's pants next, uncertain. "And these?"

"Thought you'd never ask," Hob leers, his drunken mood mercurial as the whims of children, and Dream. Resolutely keeps a chaste gaze, helps Hob free of his trousers, leaves him in tshirt and boxers.

"Lie down, Hob," he directs then, and while Hob obeys, letting Dream pull the covers up over him, his thoughts are plainly still following their previous path.

"Join me?" Hob manages a charming grin despite his inebriation, a come-hither lift of his eyebrows, and Dream, afloat on the possibility that his interest need not be one-sided, is. Tempted.

But no. This is not how he would have it happen between them. He is certain Hob, when sober, will agree.

He cards his fingers through the sweep of hair that has escaped the elastic band meant to contain it, brushes it tenderly back from Hob's face. "You are very drunk, Hob."

Hob presses into his hand. "I know. I know." He heaves a huge sigh, ending on a hiccup. He is still leaning into Dream's touch. "Sorry I messed this up." His eyes, when they meet Dream's, are wide and mournful, begging forgiveness.

His offenses are entirely imagined; Dream reassures him regardless. "You have not 'messed this up', Hob. I look forward to having. A proper conversation, when you have recovered. I would hear about every feeling you wish to share, in detail."

The pout that Hob gives him is not likely meant to be as. Adorable, as Dream finds it. "C'n I maybe have a kiss, at least?"

"Ask me again, when you are sober." His thumb brushes the corner of Hob's mouth.

Hob's eyelids are drooping of their own accord, but something like hope glimmers beneath them all the same. "'F I ask you when I'm sober, will you say yes?"

Dream smiles, a minute upturn at one corner of his mouth. "Perhaps," he allows, then leans down and softly presses his lips to Hob's forehead, breathing just a touch of his power into it. "Sleep, Hob."

Hob passes into his realm with a sigh.

Dream watches him a moment, cradling the softness and warmth in his chest, the hope that is by now glowing incandescent within him. Then, he ensures that Hob's curtains are all closed and his front door locked, brings a glass of water to the bedside table, brushes his fingertips through Hob's hair again.

He returns to the Dreaming.

He keeps a piece of himself attuned to Hob, as he goes about his work, thinking forward to their continued discussion with a sense of pleased anticipation.

~~~***~~~ Hob wakes to a dark bedroom and insistent pressure in his bladder. Blearily, he stumbles up out of bed and into the bathroom, not bothering with lights. The amber glow of the nightlight over the toilet is almost too bright as it is. His head is fuzzy, in that weird liminal state where you're technically awake but haven't had near enough sleep to really be with it; he vaguely recalls he'd been drinking, which just compounds it. He pisses, washes up, and is shambling back to bed when his stomach lurches.

Right, then. Straight back to the bathroom.

It's after, while he's rinsing his mouth at the sink, that he hears Dream's voice.

"Hob?"

He spits one final time and turns off the tap. "Yeah. Gimme sec." He dries his face, dries his hands, cracks a huge yawn in between.

Dream is in the middle of his bedroom, when he returns, and he's still not sure if he's actually awake but he's also too out of it to care. Dream hands him a glass of water, which he downs on auto-pilot. His stomach is still a bit temperamental but doesn't protest too much.

"Thanks love," he mumbles, handing the empty glass back to Dream. His head, on top of feeling muddled in cotton, is beginning to ache. "You're really here?"

"I felt you wake," Dream says, as if that explains anything.

Hob is vaguely aware there are things he should probably be remembering, but he will worry about them in the morning proper, when he is properly awake.

"Head's starting to hurt," he announces, climbing back into bed. "Mebbe it'll be fine in th' morning. I hope."

"Unlikely," Dream says, frowning, and then he disappears. Which doesn't help much with the sense of unreality Hob's got going on, but then Dream is back. And he's got the paracetamol from Hob's bathroom cabinet and more water from the kitchen, is handing him pills and propping him up to drink, and Hob is. He's not objecting to the care, okay, and he wouldn't be even if he was fully awake and aware.

"Sleep, Hob," Dream says, softly, and Hob's pretty sure Dream's skinny fingers are stroking his hair, but he's asleep again without really thinking too much about it.

When next Hob wakes, it's to muted daylight—someone had made sure the curtains were all properly closed, and he doesn't think it was him—and…considerably less of a headache than he expected. Still there, still bad enough that he's grateful for the thoughtfully-closed curtains, but nowhere near the head-splitting agony he might have expected. His mouth tastes like garbage and feels stuffed with cotton, his stomach is unhappy but not heading for a revolt, and he could stand another hour or two of sleep but.

But there's Dream, appearing suddenly in the bedroom doorway, and Hob shrieks the most undignified shriek he's ever shrieked, scrambling back against the headboard at the same time. All of which pushes his headache a bit further into 'pounding' territory, and he groans.

"Bloody christ, Dream—!"

"My apologies." Dream glides over, offers Hob the glass of water he's holding and the bottle of paracetamol from the bedside table, and Hob downs both gratefully.

Something cool touches his forehead and Hob has closed his eyes, is groaning his appreciation of the relief it brings before he registers that it. That's Dream's hand, touching him, but it is far too soothing and he's far too much of a mess just now to get properly excited about it.

They've touched, plenty of times by now; hand to arm, hand to shoulder, hand to hand occasionally, but never quite so intimate as hand to face.

It's nice.

He cracks one eye open. Dream smiles down at him, the tiny little smile that touches his eyes more than his mouth.

"How are you feeling, Hob?"

"Bit like crap. Could be worse." He opens his other eye, looking up at Dream. "Not that I'm complaining, mind, but…why are you here?"

Dream gently pulls his hand away. Hob misses it immediately. "I have been. Eager, to continue our conversation," he says, consideringly, and Hob frowns.

Bits of memory are starting to surface, and Hob is not quite sure how he feels about them. Had he…he woke up in the middle of the night to puke, he's pretty sure. Had Dream showed up and given him water after? Had Dream…put him to bed, before that? Had—

Oh god, Dream had carried him home last night, literally.

He needs a second.

Also, he's really gotta pee.

"Excuse me for just a minute," he says, climbing out of bed as Dream steps back. "Meet me in the kitchen?"

Dream does that regal kingly dipping of his head that means 'of course'. "I will make tea."

"Thanks. Thank you." Hob hurries past him, shuts himself in the bathroom, and quietly freaks out.

He deals with his bladder, too, and brushes his teeth while he's at it, but mostly it's the freaking out.

He can remember now, hanging on Dream in the hallway, Dream picking him up, carrying him up the stairs, waify stick-thin twinkish Dream carrying him effortlessly to bed like it was the easist thing in the world and it's actually pretty hot to think about, okay, and he will be thinking about it.

Later.

Because he also remembers confessing his feelings to Dream, only it was less confession of the feelings themselves than it was admission that he'd been planning to confess, gotten nervous, gotten drunk, and chickened out.

Either way, the existence of The Feelings was pretty much out there in the open, now.

Also, Dream had taken his pants off for him and Hob had half-assedly propositioned him, so. There's that, too.

He remembers the whole damn evening and he is so. Disappointed in himself.

He squares up, stares at his face in the mirror, gives himself a decisive nod. "Alright, Hobsie, let's go face the music," he says, and marches off to the kitchen like he's heading to the gallows.

Dream greets him with a smile, and his brave front crumples before he's quite gotten it in place. "Look. Can I just say, I'm sorry for getting so drunk last night? Sorry you had to drag me home?" Sorry you had to carry me upstairs to bed like it was our honeymoon—

Dream glances up from pouring tea, gives him a gently-admonishing up-tilted stare, the kind he'd first seen when being chastised for defending Dream's skinny ass against Lady Johanna's henchmen back in 1789. "You were no burden, Hob. I. Did not mind."

Hob swallows, heavily. "I. I kind of. Said a lot of things? And I don't. I hope I haven't made things…awkward."

Dream waves him to the table, brings two steaming cups over and sits. "Was anything you said untrue?"

Hob sits as well, facing Dream, the corner of his kitchen table between them. "No. No. Just—"

"I told you that I. Looked forward, to hearing about any feelings you wished to discuss, did I not?"

"…You did."

"I am listening, Hob. Should you wish to elaborate."

Like it's that easy.

"Okay well. Ah." He fidgets a little, on the spot and flustered and his head still aches and he's scared, dammit, despite the fact that Dream has the gist of it already and is still here asking for more; he can't help the little curl of terror deep in his chest that remembers 1889 like it was yesterday and screams What if, what if, what if over and over again.

But Dream is gazing at him over the tea that he's made them, patient and softly regal and so damn beautiful it hurts, and he can't not follow through.

"I love you," he blurts.

He'd tried to come up with a coherent and dignified way to ease into this last night, laying out their history and his own journey to realizing what this impossible infuriating magnificent eldritch creature meant to him but. He'd flubbed the hell out of that and he does not have the mental wherewithal this morning to reconstruct it all.

Dream looks absolutely delighted, eyes glimmering wetly and mouth pulled up at the corners, and Hob can feel the bit of him that's waiting for rejection ease.

"So…yeah. That's…that's what I meant to work up to, last night. You're my oldest friend, my one constant, my beautiful stranger turned familiar friend, my oldest friend—" he's repeating himself, he knows he is, but this is about getting the words out not bloody poetry "—and somewhere along the way here I've realized you're more important to me than anything. I love the days you show up best. I love sharing everything in my life with you. I want to make you happy, I want to see you smile and hear you laugh that godawful laugh and I want to kiss your gorgeous face and hold your hand and I don't know when it happened, but. I love you. And I know you're okay with 'friends' now and I don't want to push for more if you're not—I don't want to make you—I don't know how you feel, but I think you might be…amenable? To my feelings? And I just. If you're not. Please don't storm out on me again. I can live without your love, if it's not in the cards. But I don't want to be without your friendship."

He feels a little like he wants to throw up. Nerves, adrenenaline, hangover, all of the above. He takes a sip of his tea to help settle his stomach.

Of course it's perfect; of course Dream knows exactly how he takes it.

God, Hob loves him. So much.

Dream has both hands gently wrapped around his own teacup, but hasn't drank any. He's watching Hob intently, waiting to see that he's truly done babbling, maybe. His eyes are still bright with the threat of tears, and the rest of his face still looks like they'd be happy tears, if they did manifest.

Hob dares to hope.

"Hob," Dream says at last, and it sounds like he's savoring each letter as the name leaves his mouth. He blinks, leans marginally forward, and his eyes drop to his tea. "I am secretive, I know, and…slow, to share. To. Trust, others, with anything of myself." His eyes come back up, catching Hob's again. "But I would not have you think your feelings unrequited. You are. Very dear, to me, and I. Would welcome your affections, in whatever way you wish to express them."

Hob feels like the air's been punched out of him, fist straight to the gut, but in a good way.

"Really?" His hopes have taken flight, are fluttering gaily around in his stomach rather like butterflies.

Dream's eyes flick down to Hob's mouth and back up, blink-and-you'll-miss-it, but Hob isn't blinking, and he didn't miss it.

Oh. Oh. Oh, oh oh.

Dream tilts his head in that bird-like way he has. "Do you recall what you said, last night?"

"Which bit, specifically?" He'd said a few things, after all.

"You asked for a kiss. I told you to—"

"—Ask you again when I'm sober, yeah." He remembers.

Dream is looking at him expectantly, and it takes him a second to catch up. And then he flushes. "What—now? Really? I-I'm a mess, I smell bloody awful, I haven't shaved—" He's panicking, just a little.

"You are human, and you are beautiful. Beautifully human." Dream sets his tea aside. "Ask me your question."

"Really. Really?" It's not that he's dense. He's just. A bit hungover yet and trying to process an awful lot of really significant information in a terribly short span.

"Hob. Please. Ask me."

The eagerness in Dream's tone finally registers, finally clicks.

Dream would welcome his affections. Dream wants him to ask for a kiss. Dream has apparently been waiting all night for Hob to sober up and ask to be kissed. The Prince of stories is crafting their misbegotten evening into a tale of the following morning, just for them, and he is waiting on tenterhooks for Hob to say his line and move the plot along.

Everything slows around him, the whole world holding its breath. Or maybe it's just him.

"Dream. Can I." He swallows, heart pounding, more nervous than he's been in hundreds of years. "Can I have a kiss?"

Dream's whole face softens and brightens at the same time; he rises gracefully from his chair, leans across the corner of the table, takes Hob's unshaven chin between his thumb and curled forefinger and.

And then.

And then. Dream's lips touch his, brush across them with such aching tenderness that he could cry, they fit perfectly together and never. He's never going to forget this moment, not if he lives to be a million—

And then.

Dream's thumb on his chin presses oh-so-gently down, coaxing his mouth open, and Dream's mouth opens in kind and there are soft thrills racing down Hob's spine, lighting every nerve with unbridled joy as everything becomes just. More. He cups his hand in the bend of Dream's elbow, gets absolutely lost in the deepening kiss, the slow movement of lips, the delicate flicker of tongue, and. Just. Breathes it in, all of it, Dream and this moment and You are very dear to me and—

It's world-tilting, earth-shaking, entirely mundane and yet the most profound thing that's ever happened to him, Hob thinks, getting kissed by Dream in his kitchen on the tail end of a hangover, a first kiss fitting for the story they've been writing since 1389, and it's just.

It's just.

Perfect.

#Dreamling #Fluffbruary 2023 #TJs Fluffbruary #TJs Fics #Sandman

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shimmerbeasts · 7 days

Note

I can't believe it is going on a bit over a year now? I actually had to go look up when we started writing and it was June last year XD

We all know it was Vi that brought me over, I was just getting into writing and I saw some of your threads and was just like O_O sparkly eyes activated. Tumblr chat didn't stand a chance with us cause we had such text wall chats and thoughts and you literally had me at 'wanna read my headcanons!?!'.

Honestly, I absolutely adore the depth you go into your muses with. And Its not just the muses, you include so much more, from people that affect them, to the cultures, locations, people, everything. I feel like its rare to find people who want to delve so deep into characterizations and listen to you spaz over these things. I am literally head over heels in love with Vi and still am. And God, don't even get me started on Caitlyn who went 'I WANT THAT ONE!' and I'm going 'I don't get a say in this do I?' and she's going "Nope. give me that bloody wild tiger now thank you!"

But its not just Vi, you do amazing with all your characterizations, from Vi and Jinx, to Bg3 now!!! Omg, your Mizora and Zariel, and how you are intricately digging and developing these ideas.

There's not one thing I love about your portrayal cause all of it snagged me like a hook and now I'm just chilling in your fish tank cause I'm not leaving XD I just love everything we get to do and the developments we've made over the last year.

A Detail You Like About My Muse's Portrayal||Accepting.

By the time, I am answering this, it is now way beyond June aka well, over a year. So, really belated, but, ehm, happy anniversary. Anyway, now to work through your lovely big message.

I remember our starting days too. We had to make due with Tumblr DM and the fact we managed to write walls of text honestly amazes me to no end. I will never not love you for jumping at the chance to read my headcanons, especially because I think you were the first one, who I even asked if they wanted to read my headcanons. So to remember you just going heck yes, will never not make me grin from ear to ear. Honestly, I think that massive interest in each other's work is a vital reason why we clicked as much as we did.

After all, let's be real: I do not think either of our girls would have gone 'OMG, I WANT THAT ONE!' if we did not each have our own intrinsic way of handling our characters. After all, while I did develop whole cultures and people who affected my muse, you did the exact same thing on your end. And even more, our shared ideas mashed together so well. I will never not get tired of saying it: Your Piltover is the Piltover to my Zaun! On a smaller scale, we even see that with Vi, Caitlyn and Jinx. The way these characters and their portrayal influence each other and fit together so seamlessly... Sometimes, it almost feels like we are of one mind. And that is truly incredible.

I am just as excited as you are to see how our interpretations of our BG3 muses are going to impact and influence each other. We have already created a set of very interesting dynamics with Mizora/Aylin and Karlach/Zariel, and I cannot wait to see where this journey will take us. I really hope they can become as nuanced and fleshed out, as detailed as our Arcane muses are. And knowing us and our ability to cooperate so well, I have no doubt that one day, they will.

I love having you as a fish in my fish tank, and I hope I am providing you with plenty of nourishment. Okay, but seriously, I love the development we made over this year. Whether that be from a roleplaying and writing perspective, or just from a private perspective. You do so much for me, including working your magic when it comes to the graphic department for which I cannot thank you enough. Again, I am terribly sorry for how inconsistent my multimuse blog can sometimes be with how characters change rapidly. However, most importantly, you have become a dear and close friend of mine, who has helped me through thick and thin and whom I have seen experience highs and lows. You are an amazing person, Panda, and I truly cherish you as a human being, as a writing partner, and as my graphic maker buddy, but most of all, I cherish you as a friend.

#ferinehuntress #playground: meme #letter: ask #cat wrangler: out of character #positivity tea

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throne-anguis · 11 months

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I full-heartedly believe that Hikari, Ritsu, Kazan, and Rai Mei did not talk a lot before Persona au events. There was just a lot of baggage and conversation just falls flat every time. They talk on June 6th and that’s because they all knew what happened and no one else really understands.

So really when things start all I can see is just. The most awkward interactions between Kazan and Hikari because neither of them talked for this long outside of the death anniversary. Hikari is appreciative that Kazan did the whole hide him away in the city thing but god it is so hard to just talk to each other.

And that’s what the Confidant for a while is. It’s Hikari and Kazan being forced to talk to each other for more than one day of the year due to circumstance and accidentally reconnecting again. It goes from the weekly visits to make sure Hikari isn’t screwed over to actual visits that both parties are somewhat looking forward to.

Which kind of makes the whole fucking betrayal more tragic because things were actually getting better in terms of reconnecting. It was getting better and then of course it didn’t. Because of course. Hikari is never that lucky.

Also goes and gives a legitimate reason why Arcanette suspects Oboro may back out of the plan. At first it looks solid because those two are emotionally constipated and don’t talk about their issues. Except they sort of did and Arcanette and Claude notice that so. Go and get rid of the problem before it actually becomes a problem.

Right as he thought things were good again and Hikari thinks he's getting his childhood friends back. Nope. He's wrong. This is all wrong. He's left with no one from back then. Maybe he should just abandon his old self after all and leave it behind but the bond they shared was enough to make him hold on hope.

Arcanette thought it was a good plan. Until they legitimately started bonding again and for a second Kazan looked like he took something seriously. I could see her suspicion growing and her prompting him with things. Maybe she tries to give him tasks to bother some of his friends to see if he would take it.

I doubt Kazan would accept/listen to her if it wasn't related to the mission they share but Arcanette is still the leader. Kazan was still in the Moonshade Order for his own Vide-summoning reasons and its funny to think of Arcanette getting irritated because she can't let Hikari power of friendship him out of it.

#persona octopath au #octopath persona au

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thedaveandkimmershow · 1 year

Text

At one point early last month, Kimmer was scheduled to fly down to California on Wednesday the 31st. No problem, I thought. We'll pretty much be done with the moving by then.

At one point midway through last month, Kimmer moved her flight to the middle of June.

Thank. God.

Early in the month, hand to God, I didn't think it would be that big a deal. I thought for sure we'd be handled by Tuesday the 30th or handled enough so I could tie up loose ends like handing over keys on Wednesday the 31st.

Haha. NOPE.

Kimmer woulda heard me doing my best riff on that painting The Scream all.

The way.

Down.

In L.A..

Not even joking.

The work we had to do was more than we expected, larger than any previous move we've undertaken, for reasons beyond our understanding. The last week was some weird variation on a domestic triathlon in which no awards are handed out for achievement. The days were long. The sleep, the rest, not long enough.

And yes. We went down to the wire.

The next day, Thursday, was fortunately the next month. June. The first. And on June the first we had no other obligations than to reimagine our home. Especially since we no longer had to bear the logistics of both ends of the move. Definitely we no longer have a deadline.

So.

That first day of June we spent working on our spaces. Okay, to be perfectly honest, Kimmer always works on everything all at once. Which pretty much left me to work on the new space of my edit suite. That and making pizza for lunch. And driving out to Kenmore with Kimmer to pick up a 7' antique wood cabinet she scored for free on OfferUp and put to immediate use as a display case for some of the art we crafted for each other on the occasions of birthdays, anniversaries, and holidays over the years alllllll the way back to the beginning of Us.

Still...

It was a lazy, purposeful, and measured day. On my end, the main objective was to resurrect my editing workstation. Don't know how else to put it when you unplug and disassemble all the components.

It's dead.

And the reason I think that is there's always an anxiety that the equipment won't ever work again.

Now, I know broadcast engineers who've disassembled, moved, and reassembled full blown edit suites with tape decks, sound mixers, several levels of monitoring, all manner of control surfaces, synchronization between the component parts, and just miles of wires that go everywhere.

Now that's a big deal.

My situation is a very little deal with orders of magnitudes less of moving parts. Soon enough, then, my workstation's up and running with only a touch of troubleshooting required.

As with our house, then, there's reimagining happening in this space. A conscious effort to determine the best configuration of this room and everything in it. There's a lot that can go in here... the question is what should go in here. What am I gonna use? What am I gonna actually need? What's gonna inspire me during creative sessions where I'm reaching outside the box?

Therefore.

Therefore I'm subjecting everything, everything, to such scrutiny. Time, after all, has a way of revealing what enables our best work...

And what makes no difference at all.

Yeah.

So June 1.

We're done moving...

Now we're reimagining.

☺️

#moving #home life #rearranging #imagining #reimagining #arranging #what inspires #what's necessary #what's essential #lean and mean #edit suite #edit workstation #our own space

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wonderwomanfantasy · 3 years

Text

Starlight

uhm so I wrote this before the leaks so.... Ignore it

Aoyama x ftm!Reader

warnings: nothing?? this is v fluffy

word count: 1,000 (about)

summary: a cute winter date with your boyfriend

“Can I look now?” you asked. Aoyama huffed and tightened his hands around your eyes.

“No you may not, we are not there yet,” he huffed. You could only laugh at his frustration, you stumbled along as you walked blind and Aoyama stumbled behind you trying to keep your eyes covered. The ground beneath you was uneven and you almost fell multiple times but honestly, you’d done weirder things for him.

“Here,” Aoyama said, stopping you. And pulling away from his hands. You had been blindfolded for so long you had to blink to adjust to the light. The blinding light of the sun reflected off of the snow-covered ground hitting you in two different directions. You were in a frosted winter wonderland icicles hung from the snow-dusted trees. The sky was blue-gray and the whole thing looked like it was out of painting. Your breath came out in small puffs as you took it all in.

“It’s pretty right?” he asked, waiting for approval, you threw your arms around him and kissed him softly.

“Stunning, I don’t know how you find these places,” you said, he tried to hide it, but he flushed under the praise.

"Almost as pretty as you Starlight,"

“Let's go,” you said, taking his hand and carefully making your way down the snow-covered path hand in hand.

It was quiet, the snow muffling everything but the crunch of your boots. Yoru boots were just black snow boots you’d had for a couple of years now, Aoyama’s boots were faun brown and had a slight heel to them, the toes were turning a dark brown with the moisture of the snow wetting them.

“You aren’t cold are you?” you asked, squeezing his hand. As always, your boyfriend has chosen fashion over function. He was wearing a black turtleneck under a flowy off-the-shoulder pink sweater and a matching plaid skirt.

“Nope! I came prepared,” he said, he hiked up his leg and tugged at what looked like just his leg but as you looked you saw it was just skin-colored tights.

“Fleece-lined,” he bragged, you oohed and awed as he showed them off.

“Just checking, let me know if you get cold,” you said,

“Thanks but no thanks your jacket doesn't go with the rest of my outfit.

“My jacket is cute, besides I thought you said that boyfriend jackets go with everything,” you teased making him pout,

“Yeah but not this outfit, Starlight,” he teased back. Despite what he said his hand was turning to ice in your grip so you took your hand in your pocket. Aoyama's cheeks were a pretty flushed red, but you weren’t sure if it was because you were holding his hand or because of the biting cold.

“This place is even prettier in the spring when the flowers are all in bloom and all the squirrels and birds out in the sun, I’ll have to take you back here,” he sighed.

“Will you blindfold me again?” you asked teasingly, Aoyama smirked and thought about it

“Dependents if you forget about this or not, if you do then yes you’ll get blindfolded so it can be a surprise,” he said.

“I’d never forget such a nice date with my pretty boyfriend,” you said defensively. Aoyama gave you a stern look

“Okay, when’s our anniversary?” you pressed your tongue into the side of your cheek as you tried to remember

“Pass-”

“Where did we have our first date?”

“Pass,”

“When’s my birthday”

“Ha, I know that one June 21st!” you stated proudly. Aoyama smiled

“Alright I guess you are infallible.” he teased.

“Whatever, change of plans you announced,” his eyes went wide.

“What do you mean change of plans?” he asked as you started pulling him down in the path in the direction you’d come.

“You’re always taking me places and surprising me now I’m surprising you,” you decided.

You had no idea where you were taking him but it was too late to back out now, you were going to be a good boyfriend and take him out on a nice date. Aoyama did so much for you, he was the first to defend you if someone started poking fun at you or your gender, he deserved a treat.

“Close your eyes,” you ordered as you started pulling him down the street. “We’re going all out huh, Starlight?” he giggled as you tugged him along. You had been sitting on this tea house for a long time, you’d known Ayoyama would love this place you were just waiting for the right moment. Now seemed as good as time as any.

“Oh,” he breathed as you pushed the door open. The warm air smelled like lemon and spices, people talked quietly at round tables.

“What do you want?” you asked looking up at the menu yourself.

“How am I supposed to choose? Everything looks so cute!” he cooed as he looked at the little deserts in the display case.

“How about hot chocolate and the sugar cookies?” you offered. Aoyama nodded

“That sounds great,”

you sat down together at a booth so you could sit close together instead of facing eachother.

"so are you enjoying oyur surprise?" you asked him. Aoyama leaned up and kissed your cheek

"very much,"

"mmm then I'll have to surprise you more often then,"

"Can't wait."

#aoyama x reader #my hero academia imagine #my hero academia x reader #my hero academia #my hero academia head cannon

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maggielindemanns · 4 years

Text

all mixed up - an elu social media au

summary: it’s simple really - eliott meets a guy at the bar, that guy gives him a fake number, and that fake number just so happens to belong to lucas. the rest is history.

[EPILOGUE PART THREE]

[EPILOGUE PT 2 || BONUS]

taglist: @that-one-meh @a-french-disaster @fallout-of-my-chair @menamesniall @iamshannonmcfarland @yesyoutubeisruiningmylife @yackgrace @moschinobra @xomywonderwallox @jacwena @awake-dreamer18 @noritagrace @lost-inside-fantasy @myverybigmoodboard @ariavds @ididntgowithgrace @laurenkmyers @sunshineyou27 @nanidice @orangefizz4 @blanxkey @bodizzy @q-branchminion-nr43 @nova-on-standbi @boysrunaway @anothergayhpblog @mlhalbertt @valenschmidt @skamchokehold @mostlysh1tposting @lucassdemaury @oceanicinception @yellowballoon @fallinglikeafoolforyou @bluronyourradar @painfully-oblivious @alwayskissmeatnight @katzen-kinder @howlingsaturn @luxandobscurus @anotherplaceintheuniverse @aly-kazam @quint-cssential @rynnsama @vlm2002 @grey-mist-exist

[note: putting it up here w everything else bc this one is long so it’ll be under the cut and i am SORRY . this took so long i was not at my home and i have one lil baby bonus thing i wanna post (later), but i just wanna say another thank you to all of you, like...just finishing out the writing process of this universe today really put me through Emotions LMFAO but i really do just wanna thank you guys one last time for every single thing, the support and love i’ve gotten with this au has been nothing short of incredible and heart warming and honestly my whole world like cannot even express how much this au and you all mean to me so . sadly, here i am to do this 🥺 without further ado, the final part for amu, epilogue part 3 🥺💛]

JAN 11TH, 12:32 AM

Eliott couldn’t sleep. It was officially anniversary day, their six month anniversary, and rather than sleeping peacefully in Lucas’ arms, he was watching the slow and steady rise and fall of his shoulders as he breathed. Hair was falling onto his forehead and his eyelashes were casting a shadow onto his cheekbones, thanks to the soft white light of the streetlights peeking through the curtains. To Eliott, he looked nothing short of ethereal, but he always thought that about Lucas.

His thoughts were the very reason why he couldn’t sleep, however. School was starting up in a matter of days, graduation was around the corner, and he was yet to hear back from any internships he applied to last week while at his parents’ house with Lucas. The pressures of life to come were hitting him so very hard, and the timing was just not good.

“Why do you think so loud?” Lucas mumbled in that usual sleepy voice, the one that made Eliott want to hold him forever and never let him go. He opened his eyes when Eliott took too long to give an answer, and that made Eliott smile.

“Why do you listen so hard?” he countered, and Lucas tsked at him, starting to smile back.

“You’re an ass.” He reached over and touched Eliott’s face then, thumbing over his cheekbone and his lips. “Pretty though. What’s on your mind, Lartigue?”

“Too much.”

“Talk to me. I got time.”

“Remember all those internships I applied to with you?” he asked. Lucas nodded. “Nothing back so far. Graduation is in a matter of months. My senior year is going to end and I’m probably going to be stuck at the video club if no one gets back to me. I don’t want to stock DVDs and check things in and out forever, I wanna create and live life as a true starving artist.”

“Eli,” he sighed, “you will get something, don’t stress.”

“What if I don’t?”

“Then...you’ll keep trying ‘til you do. And I’ll be with you every step of the way. Even if it takes years and we end up having to use twisty ties as wedding rings and live in your tiny college apartment forever, I’ll still support you and your dream. You deserve it, so.”

Eliott just smiled at him, feeling overwhelmed with the amount of love for the boy laying beside him. Lucas always seemed to know what to say to make him feel better and put a halt to the quick spiraling of his thoughts. His gaze was unwavering and his eyes were bright as he scooted closer to Eliott until they were basically nose to nose.

“I love you,” was all Eliott could think to say. Lucas’ face softened and he kissed Eliott’s nose, feeling like ‘I love you’ back wasn’t sufficient for what he felt for Eliott. Of course, six months didn’t seem like a long time, but to Lucas, it felt like a lifetime of loving Eliott. Of learning everything about him, including what he needs to hear in times like this. And he really did love him more than anything.

“I love you too. More than you know, Demaury. Let’s sleep, yeah?” Eliott nodded at that and Lucas turned over, Eliott snuggling close and pressing a kiss to Lucas’ shoulder.

“Twisty ties,” Eliott whispered, and Lucas simply closed his eyes.

“Shut up.”

•••••

JAN 11TH, 11:54 PM

“This tastes like fizzy glitter water, Eliott,” Lucas laughed, and Eliott laughed even harder, almost spilling his own glass of cheap champagne. They decided to save the drinks for home after spending the night out at dinner so they could come back to Eliott’s together, the rest of their night spent drunk on cheap champagne and wrapped up in each other.

“It is champagne, stop. Glittery because it’s...the shimmers of our love in it.”

“What are you even saying right now?” Lucas asked him, and he shrugged, downing the rest of his glass and pouring another.

“I don’t know, baby. But I do know this - I love you so fucking much, happy six months.”

“À ce soir,” Lucas said, smiling and holding up his glass. Eliott clinked his glass against Lucas’ and they sipped, smiling at each other like goons. Lucas felt warm and happier than ever honestly. Warm, happy, and so very in love.

About an hour after that, it was almost midnight. Lucas felt thoroughly blissed out after being loved on like he just was, still feeling phantom sensations on his hips, thighs, and face where Eliott grabbed on him the most. He shut his eyes for a second, feeling like he still was catching his breath, and he could feel Eliott staring at him without even looking to confirm.

“Why are you staring at me?” Lucas mumbled, and Eliott laughed, shifting next to him and putting his finger on what most likely was some kind of bruise starting to form along his jaw. The thought combined with his touch sent a chill down his spine.

“Because you’re beautiful.”

“You’re corny, be quiet now.”

Eliott chuckled as he shifted some more beside him, laying on his back, and they did indeed sit in a comfortable silence for a bit before either of them said anything.

“Let’s do this forever, Lu,” Eliott spoke quietly. “Maybe you should just move in with me, like...for real.”

Lucas opened his eyes at that, turning his head to find Eliott looking up at his ceiling, blinking slow. He searched his face for any sign of it being a joke at all or if he was going to continue saying anything else, but he didn’t.

“I’ll consider it. Okay?” Eliott started grinning at that and gave him a short nod.

“Okay.”

••••••

JAN 18TH, 6:52 AM

To say Eliott was nervous about today was an understatement. He didn’t have class for another three hours, and yet he couldn’t get himself to go back to sleep now that he was up. He decided to quietly and carefully slip away from Lucas, who was with him more often than not these days, and go take a long shower to just...think.

He’d been standing in the shower for quite some time, how long exactly he wasn’t sure. The plan was to stand here until it got cold or something and try to not look like he’s thinking about everything under the sun before he went back to Lucas in his room.

When he did make it back to his room, a towel around his waist, he saw that Lucas was actually gone. His side of the bed was made up and the only trace that he was even here was the fact that his drawer was slightly open and a t-shirt was half pulled out of it. That, and the note left on the bed, and Eliott grabbed for it as soon as he noticed it, beginning to read.

eli,

i had class at 9:05 and it’s day one, so i didn’t wanna be late. i’m sorry to just leave this note :( i love you though. i know the last few days have been a little hard for you, but take it easy today, okay? you’re brilliant and whatever needs to get done will get done. i know it. don’t stress. make that your mantra or something.

i made toast and eggs, both in the kitchen. eggs might be cold by the time you read this, but still better than the ‘UOD’ you made me way back when.

i love you, and good luck today. <3

-L

p.s. don't go looking for your brown jacket i stole it bc it’s cold <3

Eliott first looked to his closet, seeing that it was indeed open and a hanger was peeking out, as if he ripped the jacket off of it in his rush to go. The thought made Eliott smile, and he grabbed his phone before making his way to the kitchen to eat, his only thoughts now being how much he loved this boy and always would.

•••••••

JUNE 21ST, 4:33 PM

“Just need a height on Demaury and then we’re done,” Sof told them, filling in for Eliott’s wingspan on the cap and gown sheet.

Lucas had been going around him with a tape measure for the last 45 minutes, debating with Sof and Yann about numbers not sounding right. When Sofiane kept asking ‘well, whose best friend is this?’, Lucas always countered with ‘whose boyfriend is this?’ as if that made him more correct than anyone, and Eliott couldn’t help but smile. In the end, they got it done though, and Eliott was now holding the top of the tape measure for Lucas while he brought it to the floor, looking up at him once he got a measurement.

“What?” Eliott asked. “I was 181 centimeters last time I did this, did I shrink?”

“Nope. 183. A whole two centimeters taller.” Lucas stood back up and booped him on the nose, making him roll his eyes.

“Aw, he’s growing so big and strong, how cute,” Yann teased, and Sofiane laughed, shoving his shoulder and telling him to stop. Lucas wound the tape measure back up with the push of a button then, throwing it at Yann after.

“Can’t believe you losers are graduating next month,” Yann mentioned casually. Sofiane and Eliott looked at each other, seeming a bit sad about the idea, and Lucas gave Yann a look that screamed ‘fix it, now’. “But, you know, you guys will be great adults, obviously. You’re great,” he added hesitantly, “I’ll miss you guys.”

“Yann, just stop talking now,” Lucas sighed, making Sofiane laugh. Eliott just smiled, hugging Lucas from behind and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“I’ll miss you too, Yann-y boy,” Sofiane teased, pinching his cheek. Yann pushed his hand away, mumbling about hating that Sof called him that.

“Me too,” Eliott agreed before looking at Lucas. “I’d say you too, but I see you all the time.”

“And that won’t change.”

“Ew, please don’t be gross in front of us,” Sofiane groaned, and Eliott started kissing his cheek repeatedly just to be annoying, making Lucas laugh as he accepted the love.

Lucas didn’t say it, but he was going to miss all of this too. And he couldn’t believe he only had not even a month left of this either.

••••••

•••••••

JULY 11TH, 8:46 PM

“Yours looks better than mine,” Lucas pouted, and Eliott looked at him unamused.

“Lucas, this is my degree.”

Lucas flicked paint off his paintbrush at him and Eliott flinched just a little, starting to laugh. They decided to spend the night in for their anniversary, following a Bob Ross tutorial on some of Eliott’s unused canvases together. Some candles were still burning from their candlelit Chinese takeout dinner they shared, and they were using Eliott’s TV to play the tutorial on. It was all fun and games until Lucas looked over and saw that Eliott’s was like a perfect replica of what was onscreen.

“This is my degree,” Lucas mocked, and Eliott gave him a look before pausing the video. Lucas started laughing and leaned over to press a kiss to his bare shoulder. He then looked at him, not saying anything.

“What now?” Eliott asked, feigning exasperation. Lucas dropped his paintbrush into their jar of water and turned to face him, hugging his knees to his chest. “Uh oh, am I in trouble?”

“Why would you be in trouble, no. I just. I considered.”

“Marriage or the moving thing?” Eliott teased, and Lucas smacked his arm gently.

“The moving thing, idiot. You’re not funny.”

“What’s the verdict, Lallemant?”

“I...guess you can call me your roommate. I’ll move in. The answer’s yes.”

Eliott got visibly excited and immediately got up in lieu of giving an actual response, walking away to his room, and Lucas was beyond confused.

“Eli?” he called out, “where are you going? This is the part where you shower me with kisses and you tell me we’re gonna bang on every surface to celebrate!”

“Wait, wait, wait!”

“That was a joke, Eliott.”

He came running back in and sat in front of Lucas once again, putting a small, maroon box in his hands. A spike of panic rose in Lucas, feeling like he knew what this was.

“Eliott, I love you, but I don’t know if I’m ready to be a husband yet…” he told him, his voice gentle. Eliott started laughing right in his face, and Lucas’ whole demeanor changed. “Fuck you, why are you laughing?”

“No, it’s not funny, baby, I’m sorry—“

“It’s not funny, yet you’re laughing at me.”

“No! Lucas, just. Open it, please.”

Lucas was giving him a dirty look as he opened the box, and when he saw what it was, his face softened again.

“This is...this is for here, isn’t it?”

“This is a key for here, yeah. I was gonna bring it up to you later and give it to you as your gift, but you just kind of beat me to it so I’m giving it to you now. If you want a custom one, I’ll get it for you if you hate it, but I just want you to have keys for what is now ours,” Eliott rambled. “Well, it’s always felt like ours to me, but—“

“Eliott,” Lucas interrupted, looking at him. Eliott took a deep breath and Lucas scooted closer to Eliott, kissing him just once before looking in his eyes. “I love you. It’s perfect, everything. Especially you. Thank you.”

“And I love you.”

•••••••

#skam france #elu #elu social media au #elu fic #elu au #lucas x eliott #my fic #skamfr #skamfr fic #skamfrfic #amu #i never post at this time but i needed this out into the universe asap LMAO

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amythedvdhoarder · 4 years

Text

Something Borrowed

Pairing: Bucky x reader

For the Flex Your Muscles Writing Challenge set up by @captain-rogers-beard

9th of June prompt: Someone goes to extreme lengths to return something he/she borrowed

Summary: You may have borrowed Bucky’s favourite t-shirt without telling him, you need to return it before he finds out

Warnings: Pure fluff

Word count: 1K

Authors notes: GIF not mine. Very tenuous link to the prompt but it is there. Please let me know what you think. Hope you like it!

Taglists are open if you want in :)

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

Bucky walked into the communal living area huffing and puffing, clearly something had bothered him. “Hey Buck, what’s up?” His face scrunched together with concentration as his searched around for something. “Y/N you seen my red henley? I can’t find it anywhere?” He walked over to you and placed a quick kiss on your head. “Ummmm, nope.” He went back to searching and you turned your attention back to your morning cup of coffee. You knew exactly where your boyfriends favourite t-shirt was, you were wearing it beneath your hoody. It’s not like you hadn’t borrowed Bucky’s clothes before, in fact he often lent you his t-shirts to sleep in. This morning Bucky had headed to the gym early, leaving you in bed alone. You had woken up feeling cold so pulled on the nearest piece of clothing you could get your hands on; Bucky’s red henley. You were going to give it back soon enough but it was too comfy to return it straight away. What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

He sighed in defeat. “It’s probably just in your room Buck, I’m sure it’ll turn up.” Bucky shot his blue eyes towards you and nodded silently, his brows furrowed together. “I’m off for a shower doll, still sweaty from the gym.” This was your opportunity, you could sneak it back whilst he was in the shower. You could picture the adorable puzzled look on his face when he found it again, the thought alone made you giggle. You watched him leave and gave it 5 minutes before you stood up to follow him. Bucky never locked his door, so you knew you would be able to get in and out undetected. You opened his door a crack and listened intently, you could hear the water running in the shower so you crept in quietly. As you stepped closer to the chest of draws you pulled your hoodie off and threw it on the bed. Checking again for the sound of running water you pulled the henley off you, leaving you stood in your bra. You pulled open the draw and made a little space for it with your hands. A little velvet box tumbled out of the pile of shirts. You stared at it and picked it up in your hand to examine it more closely.

“Y/N?” You hadn’t noticed the shower stopping and the bathroom door opening. Shocked, you turned to face him, quickly putting your arms behind your body. The little box in one hand and his t-shirt in the other. Bucky was stood with a towel wrapped low around his waist, another towel pressed to his hair and water running down his hard chest. His eyes fell to your hands and panic crossed his face. “You didn’t open that did you?” you let your arms fall back to your side, you had been caught in the act. Shaking your head your gaze fell to the floor “No, I was just putting your shirt back and then … then the box fell out.” Relief spread across his face. “Ahh, so you borrowed my shirt and thought you could sneak it back” you could hear the teasing tone in his voice but couldn’t bring yourself to look up at him. He stepped closer to you, you could feel the heat radiating off him. He took the t-shirt out of your hand and threw it and the towel in his hand to join your hoodie on the bed. Bucky used his fingertips to lift your chin up, forcing you to meet his eyes.

He leant in, his breath dancing across your cheek as he whispered “open it Y/N.” His hands fell to your bare waist as you lifted up the box and opened it. Inside was a beautiful silver locket, a locket you had spotted in a shop window on your first ever date with Bucky. Tears filled your eyes “Bucky you remembered.” Your arms looped around Bucky’s neck and you pressed a kiss to his lips, which he deepened immediately. A little out of breath you pulled back, “Of course I did doll. I was going to give it to you on our 6-month anniversary next week but I guess the surprise is out now”. Pressing yourself against his chest you murmured “Thank you, I love it. I love you.” He laughed softly “It’s ok Y/N, I love you too” He gently pushed on your shoulders making you take a step back and took the box from your hands. “Turn around.” You followed his instructions, he swept your hair to the side and you felt the cold metal locket being placed around your neck.

Bucky spun you around to face him and his eyes studied you carefully. You blushed under his gaze, suddenly very aware that you were only wearing your bra and the locket on the top half of your body. Your arms instinctively went to cover your chest and your fingers went to the locket. Bucky’s eyes darkened in admiration. “Don’t hide from me doll.” He took a big step forward and lifted you up in his arms, your hands naturally moved around the back of his neck. He peppered kisses down your jaw and neck as he carried you over to the bed and threw you down lightly. “Hey” you started in protest as he came to rest on top of you, your hands tangling in his wet locks pulling his lips to yours. “Sorry for borrowing your shirt” you got out in between kisses. “You can make it up to me” he said taking your bottom lip between his teeth making you moan. You shifted rolling over so that you were straddling his towel clad hips. Placing your hands on either side of his head, you moved your mouth to within an inch of his “It looked better on me anyway” you whispered before capturing his lips with yours.

#flex your writing muscles challenge #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky #bucky imagine #bucky fluff #marvel fanfics #marvel #avengers #writing challenge

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belamourelysianlimerence · 3 years

Text

I know this has probably been done, but IMMA DO IT FOR MY VERSION OF THE BEET!!!

SFW BeetleBlum Alphabet

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Baby is SOOO AFFECTIONATE! Just random compliments throughout the day.

'She almost misspelled throughout.'

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

He is so easy to be friends with. It's almost impossible to not be his friend.

'Mmawww, stahhp.'

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

KING OF CUDDLES! He likes being both spoons. (He asks to be little more though)

'You ask me to be the big one!'

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Ummm... depends on what you mean by settle down.

'I'm dead.'

Like be a husband? More like a hubby. He can't cook.

'I CAN SO!'

He won't clean.

'.....damn.'

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

'Never! Nope! Stop! I don't like this question!'

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

'OOOooohhhh!'

Look what you did.

'Marry me?'

We are married.

'Again?'

.....mokay.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

'Hehehehehe...'

Stop! Nnoo! Don't!

'No? Don't stop? I like what I'm hearing.'

He is physically a plushie.

And he is an emotional rollarcoaster.

'That you love to ride!'

STOP!

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

He hugs me all the time... he's never not hugging me... he's hugging me now... he's just nodding at me, smiling... and hugging me.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

'I love you.'

That fast.

'You love me?'

Yes.

'Promise?'

Yes.

'.....pinky promise?'

If you hand me a pinky from a corpse, I swear.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

I spoke to Tom today.

'..........'

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Magic kisses! I love kissing this boy!

Where do you like to kiss me?

'Here... and here... and here...a-'

OKAY, Okay, okay... where do you like to be kissed.

'Hmm... lips?'

Classic.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

'I hate kids.'

(He loves kids)

'I do not!'

You like kids.

'Kids... are.. okayyy..... I don't love kids.'

Anastasia.

'The only kid I love. She's lucky.'

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

'I'm sleeping. She's sleeping. We sleep in.'

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

I'm sleeping, he's bothering me.

'I bother you?'

I... no... I'm just trying to sleep.

'I'm just fuckin' with ya.'

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

I know everything.

'Don't tell them anything.'

He likes bubble baths.

'AHHH!'

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

.....poke.

'Don't touch me.'

He's not easily angered, but... pissed, most def.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He doesn't remember much.

'I remember tons!'

When's my birthday?

'June 14th.'

No.

'Damn.'

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Well?

'Anytime she compliments me. It's a big self-esteem boost.'

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

'Haha, touch her, you die.'

Hey!

'I..... am KEEPING YOU!'

O-okay...geez.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

.....

'So, um... did you like the earrings I got you?'

The ones you made? .....yes.

'I thought the butterflies looked stunning on you.'

Yes... real. Dead. Butterflies.... that were actually moths.

'They looked cute with your sweater!'

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

'Uh-oh.'

He over eats, over sleeps...

'Okay. Yep.'

Never exercises. Rarely bathes...

'Right. Sure.'

And lays around the house.

'.....yeah.'

But, I do all that too, so...

'Aww, you really do love me!'

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

'Babes'...

You look the same. All the time.

'Gorgeous.'

Dead.

'Drop dead gorgeous.'

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

'If you're even thinking about taking her away from me, I will destroy everything you hold dear. No place will be good enough to hide. I will find you. I-'

Yes.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

He totally doesn't care about your hygiene. Like at all. He's dead and been so for a long time. Your personal scent is refreshing to him compared to the sand dunes. Is smelling like soap nice? Of course. Does he care enough that you don't die? Oh, my, yes. But, he truly doesn't care how you manage. Bodily functions do not bother him.

'Everybody shits.'

It's poops.

'Not in the Netherworld.'

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

'In general, Delia... but it's like a fuck, marry, kill deal.'

What?

'Wha- huh- I totally married you...'

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

He sleeps a lot. Which is fine by me. I do too.

Depression is a bitch.

'She's worse than my mom.'

Your mom's worse than your mom.

'You've never met my aunt.'

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kys0g0i · 4 years

Text

Mama Janus - Chapter One

Word Count: 2971 words

Warnings: Mentions of past toxic relationships, mention of insomnia, mention of food/eating, talk about reproduction and raising children

- I’m not sure how long this will go on and how often I’ll update; this is mostly for my own entertainment, as I very much so enjoy this au.

First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

———

Janus hummed to herself as she washed dishes, soaking dirty plates into the steamy hot, soapy water she had in the sink, filling it halfway. She had always liked cleaning them. It was relaxing, and she never really had to put too much thought or energy into doing it. Plus, it was just a nice way to calm down in general, especially after a trial. (If it wasn’t too late, that is. If it was, she’d usually just cuddle up to her shorter husband, Roman. He always seemed to have a way to make her feel more at ease. She believed they both had that effect on one another.)

Setting another dish to dry with the rest to her right, she grabbed a towel to dry her hands off, tucking a piece of curly black hair that had fallen out of the ponytail he had pulled her hair back in. It was always a struggle to get it to stay back. If there was one trait she inherited, it was that her hair always seemed to want to be everywhere at once, just like her mother’s had been. Though, she felt hers looked more awkward, if only because of the many burn scars that covered the left of her body.

The brown skinned woman had reached to grab another plate, as she was not done cleaning all of them yet, when she felt a pair of arms wrap around her and a head lean itself against her back. Janus smiled, glancing back a bit to see her pale lover. “Well good morning to you too.” She said warmly, looking back to the sink to continue her cleaning. “Finally decided to wake up, hm?”

“It’s only 10 am you big jerk.” Roman murmured tiredly. In truth, they weren’t too different in height. Janus herself was 5’4, while Roman was 5’1. He was pretty short for a guy, but she didn’t mind. She honestly found it pretty cute, and she liked being the taller one in the relationship. She had barely ever that privilege in the past. So, really, it just worked out for the both of them. “Did you sleep tonight by the way? I remember the other day we had forgotten to pick up the refill of your medication, but you had them for tonight, so was everything okay? I can finish the dishes if you want to go try and sleep.”

Janus shook her head. She liked that about Roman. Always wanting to make sure that she was okay. It was sweet, and more than almost any of her past relationship partners had done for her. “No no, don’t worry. I slept plenty actually. Fell asleep at 10 and woke up around seven this morning. But thank you, baby.” She turned her head and bent down a little bit so she could comfortably press a kiss to his messy, short brown hair due to how they were standing. “Though, if you’d like to do something for me… you could take me out for lunch?”

Roman quietly laughed, letting go of his wife to walk to and lean against the counter that the dishes were drying on. “It’s funny you say that, because I actually wanted to take you out to eat today.” He said, a smile on his freckled face. “Perhaps to… Umi?”

Janus blinked in surprise, turning to him for a few moments to show him this emotion. Umi was her favorite restaurant, but since it was expensive, they usually didn’t go too much, especially at lunch, when the prices were their highest. “Umi?” She asked, letting a bit of disbelief slip into her voice. “For what? Is there something special happening today that I forgot about?” She glanced at a calendar not too far away on the kitchen door. It was the sixth of June. Surely nothing important was happening, right?

Her husband shook his head, glee shining in his bright green eyes. She always had adored their color. It was so pleasant to stare into. Or maybe that was just because she was in love with the man. Either way, she loved them. “Nope, there’s no important date, don’t worry. I just thought I should treat you today.” He said, shrugging a bit. She knew that was a lie. She could tell there was more to it. He softened a bit. “Plus, I… kinda wanted to talk to you about something… if you don’t mind.” And there it was.

She felt her stomach drop a little bit, until to help but let a bit of dread, doubt, and worry enter her brain. Realistically, Janus knew she had nothing to worry about. The two of them had been married for about three years at this point, their anniversary having been on New Years, 2023. Even with all of the different ‘partners’ she’s been with, she had no reason to doubt that he loved her or that he was taking her there to have one more good night with her before he would tell her that he wanted a divorce and left her like so many people had before. She pushed away the thought to the best of her ability, trying not to let her concerns show, but it clearly hadn’t worked, but it was apparent that Roman noticed due to his expression.

“Oh, oh Janus, it’s nothing bad or anything like you’re thinking it might be, really.” He quickly said, reaching forward and putting a hand on her right arm. “I promise, okay?”

Janus nodded, embarrassment pricking at her. She felt foolish for letting the worry get to her, or at least for letting Roman see that it came across. “Yeah, yeah I know it’s not anything bad. Just, old thinking habits.” She said teasingly with a smile, trying to settle Roman’s concern so he didn’t worry about her for no good reason. “So when do you want to go? Around twelve? Eleven?”

Roman hesitated for a few more seconds, but he seemed like he decided that it was okay to continue on with the conversation. She was glad for that. She didn’t like to talk about the past too much, more specifically, her life from ages late 13 to mid 17. It… didn’t give her the more pleasant memories. “Well… how about we leave at eleven forty-five? Plenty of time for us to get ready.” He suggested, picking back up the tone he had had before.

Janus nodded, feeling herself start to get excited to go. She always liked getting the bento boxes. The steak was the best part of it. It was always so juicy, sweet, and perfectly prepared… she could feel her stomach starting to itch for it just by thinking about the food item. “That sounds lovely. I can’t wait, love.” She sweetly said as Roman walked closer to her so he could press a kiss on her cheek.

“I’m glad. Love you, honey.” Roman said with so much warmth, Janus wanted to beg him to come back and kiss her again and again, but she had to finish cleaning the rest of these dishes and get ready to go on, what she decided would be, their date.

“I love you too, Roman.” Janus returned, turning back to the dishes to pick up a bowl, starting to scrub it as her head filled with questions of what her husband could possibly be wanting to talk about with her.

...

Janus quietly laughed as they walked into the restaurant, her left hand in Roman’s right, who was smiling happily at the sight of being able to make his wife laugh. “Oh my god, I can’t believe she said that to you! Why have you never told me this story? It’s been a while since we’ve been in highschool and that’s happened!” She said amusedly as they walked up to the front desk, waiting there until someone noticed they were there so they could be seated.

“I thought I did!” He responded, half laughing through his words. “It was so stupid, I must have just thought about telling you in my head and then forgot that actually didn’t. I-”

“Hi, welcome! I’m so sorry for interrupting, but how many members will there be in your party?” A voice suddenly said to them in a cheerful voice, making the two lovers turn and look. It seemed to come from a woman, maybe around thirty years old. She had black hair pulled back in a ponytail, and her work name tag seemed to clarify that her name was Jade and pronouns were she/her. Janus instantly felt a bit of fondness, as if she already liked the girl. Or maybe that was just because she was going to be overly friendly with them, so her head registered that she was nice, she should like her.

“Oh, sorry, hello,” Janus said, giving the waitress an apologetic smile. “Just the two of us. We’d like a table, please, not the bar.”

The black-haired lady nodded. “Sure thing! Follow me, please.”

The two lovers followed after the waitress and were soon seated at a spot where they could see the tables where they cooked right in front of you, but not at one themselves. That was a relief, she was never particularly fond of those. She just liked to have her food delivered to her, not be in an interactive show with it. “Here’s your table,” Jade said kindly, setting two menus down at the table before Roman and Janus sat down at the two-person table. “Someone will be out soon to get your drink order, enjoy!”

Janus thanked her, watching her walk off before turning to her husband, about to speak when she stopped himself and saw his expression. He was clearly trying to hide it, but she’s known him too long as well as his habits. He was worried, maybe a little scared? But why? Was it due to the fact she would learn what he wanted to talk about soon? Surely whatever it was, it couldn’t be too bad, right? Maybe he was just anxious about how she would respond to it. “Hey, you okay baby?” She asked gently, reaching a hand forward to rest on his, making him look away from staring out the window and look to her.

“Oh, um, yeah, I’m okay, Jan. No worries,” Roman said, giving her a smile, but she could tell he was lying, and she knew that he knew that. He dropped his eyes, pressing his lips tightly together. He looked like she was struggling to find the right words to say to her. Was it about the thing…? Surely it had to be. “...Janus, I-I've been thinking about this for a long while, and…. I-”

“Hi, welcome to Umi! Can I start you two off with something to drink?” A chirpy voice perked up, interrupting Roman so he didn’t have time to finish what he was saying. It wasn’t the same girl as before. No, Janus could tell from the name tag that this person was non-binary, as made clear by the ‘e/em’ on eir nametag. She was surprised to see the neopronouns. It was unusual for her to see people who used them, or maybe she had seen people with them before, and just didn’t know.

“Oh yeah, a hot tea for me, please. Splenda for the sugar, if you don’t mind.” Janus said, the waiter nodding eir head along as she ordered. “Roman?”

“Just a water for me, thank you,” Roman said to em, smiling back at the smile e gave him.

E nodded, writing the order of water down on eir notepad. “Alright! And do you two know what you’d like to eat, or do you need a bit more time to decide?” She asked, and the two of them nodded. Janus ordered a beef bento box, while Roman got a simple order of honey chicken with brown rice. It wasn’t long after that until e left, Janus saying one last ‘thank you’ before turning back to Roman.

“What were you saying before?” Janus asked, slightly tilting her head a bit with the question. “You didn’t get to finish speaking before e kinda interrupted you.”

Roman hesitated for a moment. “Um, right. Okay, so… don’t feel like I’m pressuring you into anything, or care if you don’t want this, okay…?” He said quietly, as if he were scared of Janus herself, but she knew he was just worried about whatever he wanted to ask her. He went on speaking after a few seconds and Janus nodding in agreement. “I… I’ve been thinking… We’ve been married for a few years now, and… I think we know our marriage is pretty good and healthy, so… I… I’ve been wondering… if you’d like to start a family…? Not to say we’re not already a family! I-I just meant that, maybe you’d be interested in having kids? Whether that be adoption, or… or you know… you actually carrying and… giving birth… to the kid…?”

Janus stared at him in shock, barely noticing how the hand that was resting on her lap moved to gently touch her stomach. She would be lying if she said that she had never thought of having kids with Roman. Though, she knew she would never be able to have kids with him that were both biologically his and hers, since science didn’t have the technology yet to make it so trans men could impregnate others, but… she had thought about what it might be like to carry children one day. Her dwelling must have taken too much time, as Roman seemed to take it that she was repulsed by the thought of having children. “I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have suggested it. You obviously would have brought it up if you wanted to have children. I’m so sorry, I just-, I”

“Hey hey, Roman, it’s alright. Just breathe with me, okay?” Janus quickly said, reaching forward to take her lover’s hands in her own. Roman nodded, taking a deep breath and trying to steady himself. She wondered how long Roman had been thinking about this, as well as how long it took him to work up the courage to ask her. He obviously had a lot of worry and doubt about asking her this. Due to what he said before, she guessed that he thought that it would come off as pressuring her to bear a child that she didn’t want to have in the first place. And frankly? That was a fair worry. In the past, she did almost anything just to appease people and get validation that she used to crave so much. She didn’t blame him for thinking that she would be willing to have a kid the way he wanted just to please him and make sure he didn’t leave her over not doing something he wanted her to do. “It’s okay, I know you wouldn’t pressure me into anything like this, especially carrying the child. You’re not like that in the slightest.”

Roman nodded in short and quick motions. She could tell that he was embarrassed by his actions and words. She couldn’t blame him, though. If she’d done the same thing and then thought he mistook her suggestion, but found out he hadn’t, she’d be a bit embarrassed too. “Sorry, I just… I don’t want you thinking that I'm trying to force you to pick one thing over the other, but… I really like the thought of raising one or multiple kids with you, no matter how we get them. Us naming them, watching them grow, teaching them their first words, watching them learn to walk… seeing them go on to be amazing human beings…” He shook his head, finally looking back up at Janus. “I understand if you don’t want kids, at the very least not right now, but… I just wanted to see what you thought.”

Janus didn’t respond for a little, letting her gaze move to stare down at their intertwined hands. “I… need time to think about it completely. I think… I wouldn’t mind having kids right now, but I want to be a hundred percent sure before I commit to anything, and I want to decide if we would adopt or…” She swallowed thickly. “...or if I’d want to be pregnant with the kid… That’s a really, really huge and important thing to decide…”

Roman quickly nodded in agreement, giving his wife’s hands a soft squeeze before speaking. She could see the waiter from before putting their drinks on the table, trying to be as quiet as possible from the looks of it. She was thankful for that; this was a conversation she didn’t particularly want interrupted at the moment. “Yeah, of course! You don’t have to decide anytime soon, you can take all the time in the world! I don’t mind waiting one bit.” He said softly, lifting one of her hands to gently press a kiss on her knuckles. “Whenever you’re ready, I'll be ready too.”

Janus softened, giving him a warm and thankful smile. Now that the idea of being a mother had been put into her head, she knew that she was only going to be able to think about that for a long time. She wouldn’t be surprised if she went to bed that night, cuddled up to Roman and thinking that, if she carried the child, would it get in the way of their cuddling? Would he still want to cuddle with her when she had a swollen belly? Maybe he’d be disgusted by the sight, or maybe he wouldn’t mind at all, and they’d fall asleep with his hand on her belly. But, then again, they could always adopt, and she wouldn’t have to go through everything that came with being pregnant… “I know, my love. Thank you.”

#sanders sides #sander sides #roman sanders #janus sanders #Roceit #Roman x Janus #Janus x Roman #tss Janus #tss Roman #mention of reproduction #mention of insomnia #mention of toxic relationships #Mama Janus au #mama Janus

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autumnblogs · 4 years

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Day 43: Openbound

We’ll principally be doing Act 6 Intermission 3 today, so expect lots of pictures in this one!

Believe it or not, I initially didn’t like Openbound very much; I felt like it kind of dragged on my first readthrough, and generally had a pretty hard time getting myself to care about the Dancestors. They’re a pretty unsympathetic bunch.

Then again, lots of Homestuck characters are pretty unsympathetic! I’ve been really feeling that in the second half, as retrospect allows me to view a lot of secondary characters through the lens that we’re not intended to get attached to them.

That said, Openbound is actually pretty key to helping us understand the second half of the comic, I think, and makes explicit a lot of the themes that it explores, and how it builds upon the first half.

I think that the theme of Openbound as a self-contained work within Homestuck that we can use as a tool to decode Homestuck can be concisely stated like this; “Nostalgia and a desire for unity with the past causes toxic stagnation.”

So, aside from the introduction that we’ve already gotten to Meenah through the short conversation she had with the other kids, this is our first real opportunity to get to know her! Boy is she obsessed with money.

Money, like Cake, is a symbol that is associated with the Aspect of Life. As an aspect principally associated with Raw Power - the power to do what you want, unfettered by the stringent restrictions that are associated with Doom - it’s natural that Life would be associated with money.

The origin of money in history is pretty nebulous; it precedes the invention of writing, so any theory concerning its invention is ultimately conjecture. What I think is interesting about money is that the move toward a monetary economy in history mostly (but not always) happens as a result of the fact that it is way more efficient to collect taxes; the state mints standard coins, only accepts taxes in the form of standard coins, and propagates them into the economy by buying goods and services from the market.

It’s a tool of government, and even though Meenah may abrogate her inheritance, the Princess can’t escape her birthright. Money offers control, security... and power. What makes all of this extra interesting is that money is effectively worthless in the afterlife. Here, there’s actually nothing for her to really buy or spend it on; anyone can dream up whatever they want with ease.

It’s a nice bit of callback humor that Meenah has the same reaction to discovering the Thorns of Oglogoth that Rose does, but unlike Rose, Meenah actually does destroy them on the spot.

For being so headstrong and dangerous, there are ways in which Meenah is really pretty surprisingly sensible.

Lord English can destroy ghosts - this has always been a pretty disturbing thought for me. I may have said something to this effect before, but if I haven’t I’m a free-thinking Theist - raised in the Church, and largely independent in terms of beliefs, but I’m still pretty convinced that there is some kind of life after death. It doesn’t bother me nearly as much in works that have final death as a general presupposition, but it always bothers me when some kind of eternal life after death exists in a setting, and can be arbitrarily denied by evil beings with some power or another, like how some Demons and Liches can destroy or devour a soul in Dungeons and Dragons.

In Homestuck though, it fits with the themes established by the ways in which everyone God Tiers - spiritual power can be pretty arbitrary, and generally signifies very little about the moral worth of the one who has it; it does not intrinsically elevate the one who has it. It fits with its general criticism of power and the powerful, whether that’s the Mayor’s hatred of Kings, or the associating of corporatism with the worst parts of Jane’s characterization and Crockercorp in general.

Lord English has the power to destroy ghosts and end the lives of immortals not because he has attained to any kind of heightened spiritual awareness. He’s just some douchebag who through cosmic serendipity was in the right place at the right time to become basically all-powerful.

I adore Meenah’s spark. Who gives a fuck if Lord English is invincible? She knows exactly what she’s going to do when she gets her hands on him, and she’s got a plan from the outset. I think it’s also interesting the way that even though Meenah is absolutely taken by the spectacle of power, it isn’t sufficient to make her want to join up with English. Only soft power works on Meenah Peixes; emotional intimacy, friendship... keeping her entertained. All of these are the actual way to moderate her violent and dangerous personality.

While neither Rose nor Meenah is a parallel character to either Gendo or Rei from Neon Genesis Evangelion (I think, actually, that Dirk is the character who most strongly parallels both of them), this bit reminds me of the way that Ritsuko describes both of them;

Rose says of herself and Meenah, “You’re not very good at this, are you? ... talking to people.”

Ritsuko says of Gendo and Rei, “They’re not very adept (at)... living, I suppose.”

The same can really be said of a lot of characters in Homestuck, particularly the ones who primarily find their identity in some form of power-seeking. Whether it’s Rose, or Dirk, or Meenah, or even someone as innocuous as Jake, none of them is particularly adept at living.

Rose is pretty conciliatory with Meenah; given her attraction to danger and darkness, it’s probably not surprising that she makes such an obvious pass at Meenah in spite of the fact that she probably knows what their relationship was in another life.

Further evidence that Rose is the horniest Homestuck character.

“you know how it is with ancestors

they just kind of hold this inexplicable power over you”

Dave continues to progress down the path of not giving a shit, as did Sollux before him.

He’s not quite to the level of reluctance that he eventually adopts, of choosing to just not engage with English at all.

Gods are, to some extent, aware of the various narrative forces that govern their existence.

About the only thing this piece of nasty trash has in common with Karkat is the extent to which they both blabber, and he helps create contrast with the other, somewhat more likable dancestors. Kankri is pretty much openly contemptible, and really in the worst way. I’m almost inclined to call him a concern troll because of the extent to which his verbal essays exist purely to make him feel better about himself. Any time it comes time for him to listen to people who historically actually suffered from the systems they were involved in, Kankri shows his true colors, slut-shaming and misogynistic.

Unsurprisingly, The Other Thief is also the vector for English’s ideology in her session, “turning us against each other to make us stronger.” While Kurloz may be a worshipper of English, and Damara may have thrown in her lot with the demon because of her nihilistic despair, Meenah (rather like Dirk!) is clearly driven toward a life of violence, and restless action for its own sake.

Now we’re starting to get some insight into Feferi’s style of rulership, which in turn, probably gives us some insight into Jane. For Feferi, leadership means taking power away from the people you’re leading if it seems like they have the potential to hurt themselves (or to be a drain on society if left to their own devices). It represents a violation of agency, perhaps not so severe as the kind that Vriska perpetrates usually.

Feferi and Jane are the sort of people, I think, who want to create a perfect world - but it’s important to them that they’re the one who’s creating that world, and less important that the world is perfect for anyone in particular. Just perfect.

https://homestuck.com/story/5288

John’s whole self-conception, and especially his conception of himself as a man, and someone who might be growing up to take on the same roles as his Father, is tied up in the icons of dadliness and masculinity in the movies that he likes.

So we should expect that his disillusionment with his past will change the way that he thinks about his future, and what he’s going to do with it. It’s a shame that this line of questioning never goes anywhere in Homestuck proper, but I’ll use it as evidence in the “John/June Egbert is trans” folder. Reminds me of how my decisive lack of affinity for the Boy Scouts serves as a nice little retrospective bit of evidence in my own trans narrative.

Based on the number of trans Eagle Scouts I know, I feel like there’s a certain extent to which it be like, a fast-track to figuring that out about yourself, like, you tried all the boy stuff and just decided, nope! Not for me.

https://homestuck.com/story/5290

Man, especially if we continue to read this section of Homestuck as conflating the characters and the audience, this whole section reads as John not just having a meltdown about Con Air, but also generally having a meltdown about his own story so far - everything he’s done in Sburb, etc. It just all feels lame and shitty in retrospect, when it was something that was kind of exciting at the time, at least up until the point where his loved ones all dropped dead there at the end.

It turns out that there was nothing particularly edifying about John’s suffering.

https://homestuck.com/story/5300

Teens can be such monsters. It’s the anniversary of Bro’s Death too. Davesprite is probably as broken up about that as John is about Dad, but it’s hard for boys/men to talk about that kind of thing with each other.

Cronus is even more of an incel than Eridan. He may be the most singularly contemptible character in Paradox Space. Do I hate anyone more than Cronus? No, I think I do not.

I won’t have a lot to say about the middle leg of Openbound; it’s relatively empty of substance, and not much that happens in it is ever relevant again compared to the first and second legs.

I like to think that this leg of the journey is, more than anything, a chance to ruminate on some joke characters who were already parodies; parodies of parodies, a joke made at the expense of an existing joke. The kind of thing Dirk Strider would write, basically.

Hey check it out, the Year of Our Lord 2012, and Andrew was starting to show some mild sensitivity in his choice of words. Just mild enough to have the lowest character in the story show a tiny bit of sensitivity himself.

This leg of the adventure does give us some more insight into Meenah’s character. Just like Vriska, she’s all about being a hardass super-murder, until she starts causing problems for the people she actually cares about.

Being Evil Sucks.

This is a really weird sentiment for Karkat to have in light of like, everything else about the latter half of the comic. I mean, he hasn’t exactly had the epiphany yet that the ideas that he has about being a leader are kind of awful and shitty, so it’s possible that he’s talking the Condesce up to avoid thinking about that. IDK.

He also immediately claims he’ll leave behind the meteor to go and join Meenah’s army, so maybe Karkat is just in a pretty low place in general? That tracks.

Karkat’s little conversation with Terezi explains at the two thirds mark of Openbound exactly what this whole thing is about.

Almost the entire second half of the comic is about examining the character’s guardians, and their relationships with them. The Guardians - Grandpa and Bro especially - are hyped up to be these outrageous badasses, both in-and-out of universe, and their ambivalent relationship with their kids creates this ambiguity throughout the comic about whether the kids are worthy, whether they’re living up to their parents’ legacy - and it’s the kind of thing that plagues them throughout.

But the thing is, Ancestors can be lame, or even terrible. They’re not really anything to aspire to, and the image of success that they project onto the world is one of learned confidence, and usually that only if they’ve really managed to make it.

Even the best parents are flawed, and instead of trying to measure up to them, growing up healthy usually means learning what those flaws are, and committing not to reproduce them.

Parents don’t suck; they can be awesome, and generally speaking, for a long part of our life, they’re all we’ve got. It’s hard not to love them. But we shouldn’t turn them into idols.

(On another note, it’s one hundred percent fitting for Terezi’s Ancestor to be an outrageous coolgirl. Terezi is perpetually anxious about being cool enough, the sort of person who is breathlessly fun to be around, who commands the attention of everyone around her, and she’s surrounded by them wherever she goes.)

https://homestuck.com/story/5340

John’s distress leads him to dream about his dead Dad, and boy is he angry. He spends a lot of the second half of the comic seething in rage directed at whomever is responsible for all the suffering he and his friends endure, dishing out beatdowns toward those responsible, but I’ve never gotten the impression that these little outbursts of his are particularly rewarding for him.

https://homestuck.com/story/5358

That was quite a blow. He knocked out like a tenth of Jack’s health bar.

https://homestuck.com/story/5387

Depending on where you’re standing some really totally different things can matter to different people. From Vriska’s point of view, the things that happened back when she was alive totally don’t matter at all anymore - only the matter of Cosmic importance that is fighting Lord English.

But the stuff that matters to the people she left behind, and the suffering she’s responsible for - especially for putting Terezi in a position where she had to slay her - all of that still matters very much to the people who are alive, which is what makes her self-conception as someone who is on the side of the angels now really... not sit well.

She clearly hasn’t changed all that much. She just thinks, as usual, that now that things are even, now that the score is settled, things can go back to the way they were before.

https://homestuck.com/story/5388

Tavros and Vriska are really bad for each other in general. Like, it’s not good for her to be around someone as pliable as Tavros is, and it’s plain to everybody that it’s not good for him to be around her either; whenever he’s around her, he apes her bogus inflated self-esteem in all the worst ways.

https://homestuck.com/story/5397

Tavros’ explanation of what Vriska does suggests that storytelling has become kind of a ritual for her - a means by which she is attempting to connect with her Ancestor, by performing the same actions she is, miming her - still the same old Vriska.

That’ll be all for now. Cam signing off for now - join me for the thrilling conclusion to Openbound tomorrow, Same Cam Time, Same Cam Channel.

#commentary #neon genesis evangelion #liveblogging

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sensenoi · 4 years

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Rating Every Single Name of the Wind Cover

Why? Because I can. I am not a graphic designer, just a person with opinions.

Criteria for consideration: Must be a cover in a published edition of The Name of the Wind by Patrick Rothfuss. Hardcover, paperback, and ebook are all fair game, as are foreign language editions. Some editions reuse the same cover art, in which case I only rate one cover. Some editions modify cover art from another edition. If the differences are substantial, I’ll rate both.

Kindle March 2007 Edition

Ah, the famous shirtless redhead cover. This cover is a bit infamous in the fandom for being both bad and cringey. This is not good art. It’s cheesy. The shirtless aspect is silly, and the windswept hair is so windswept, you’d think Kvothe was in a tornado. Nice balance with the title and author text, although it looks like the title and author text are slightly off center.

3/10

Hardcover April 2007 Edition This is just a zoomed in crop of the above cover, which is a little lazy. It does make for a better cover image, except the creepy goat man bust has nothing to do with the plot of Name of the Wind. So I suppose they cancel out.

3/10

Mass Market Paperback April 2009 Edition

I despise this cover. It’s a lazy design, and the photo manipulation is terrible. Points I guess for good title text placement. But the photo manipulation is so! So! Bad! This is also the start of the trend of a hooded, cloaked figure with his back to the viewer staring out into the void. It is a bad trend.

2/10

Paperback UK June 2008 Edition

We’re still with the hooded, cloaked figure, but at least he’s facing front this time. I like the embellishment on the ‘W’ in the title text, although it gets a little pumpkin viney. Overall, it’s an ok cover. It doesn’t make me cringe, but it doesn’t grab the viewer’s interest, either.

4/10

Paperback Spanish May 2009 Edition

Same image as the previous cover, but this one is uncropped and has a different plant border. I’m not sure how successful the changes are. On the one hand, shrinking the image of the figure makes the figure look more mysterious, which is good. But on the other hand, this is a bad plant border. I thought there was some corn on the right side for a minute.

4/10

Hardcover 10th Anniversary October 2017 Edition

10th Anniversary edition got fancy, and it shows. I love the ruin influence in the title text, which is a great callback to the use of ruins in the novel and also a more creative and unexpected choice than making the title text leafy. That being said, the “of the” in the title text is very oddly formatted and doesn’t fit the style. The cover illustration is pretty great, with lots of symbolism for old fans while still maintaining visual interest for new readers who are browsing and happen to pick the book up. The Cinder statue is delightfully creepy and much more relevant to the novel than the dumb pan statue from the earlier cover.

9/10

Paperback Turkish March 2007 Edition

Another trend starting here: Cloaked figure staring out at a city in the distance. I like the painting, at least what I can see of it. I find the choice to crop out most of the painting really bizarre. Is this supposed to be a telescope we’re looking through? And the leaves look like lily pads. The title and author text leaf embellishments are quite nice here, but I don’t know why there’s a metallic color shift. Overall, a poor use of space.

4/10

Hardcover German March 2007 Edition

Oh look! A cloaked figure staring at a city. What a surprise. I rather like the title text design, which is pretty creative and a good way to make the title visually appealing. I wish the city in the painting weren’t so damn faded and distant – I think it’s a mistake to keep the visual focus on the figure exclusively and only hint at the city beyond.

6/10

Paperback Portuguese September 2009 Edition

This cover is terrible. I would say the worst, but there’s more still to come. Anyways, this is incredibly bad. We’re once again with the hooded, cloaked figure with his back to the viewer, which is a lazy and uninteresting pose. The image is badly photoshopped and looks like an alternate movie poster for The Blair Witch Project. There’s nothing interesting about the image, nothing that interests the viewer. The title font isn’t boring, I guess. That’s the only good thing I have to say about this. 1/10

Paperback Portuguese July 2009 Edition

Still another cloaked figure staring off at a distant city, but this is one my favorite versions of this trope. The city is far enough in the middle distance that the figure is the main focus, but we can still see enough of the city to see that it’s cool looking. I’m glad to see the bridge from the books, which is a nice detail. The title text does a good job of filling in the empty space of the painting without crowding the other elements.

9/10

Paperback French November 2009 Edition

This is the same cover image as before, but it’s been cropped so that the figure is centered. I don’t like the change – the balance is better when the figure is off center. Also, the title text is way too big and dominates, which is unfortunate because the Spanish cover had such a lovely balance throughout. 7/10

Hardcover Dutch July 2007 Edition

Yet. Another. Hooded figure. Staring. At a city. Wow. This one has a tree, at least. The image is… fine? I might be kinder to it if I hadn’t seen several better iterations of this right before. Because so much of the image is shrouded in fog, there’s very little to go on in terms of visual interest. And while I don’t mind the shadowed, muted color scheme, it also means that there’s very little to distinguish the cloaked figure and make him intriguing. The shadow initials behind the title text is horrific and obscures the title somewhat, so docking a couple of points for that. 5/10

Hardcover UK January 2017 Edition

Ahahahaha. This looks like the My Neighbor Totoro edition of Name of the Wind. It’s very silly and lighthearted, but wholly inappropriate for a book whose reading level is above first grade. If this was a kid’s book, I’d give it full marks. But Name of the Wind is very much for adults, and this cover is way too young and childish.

1/10

Paperback Polish August 2008

YIKES. I cannot figure out which scene or location from the book this image is trying to evoke, which makes me think the cover artist did not have the book or a text excerpt to work from. What the hell are those weird horse skulls? Why is this taking place in a desert? Why is the texture so bad? So many questions. And the effect on the title text is bad.

0/10 YES WE CAN GO LOWER THAN 1

Hardcover Russian 2010 Edition

This looks like the cover to a Dungeons and Dragons manual. I suppose that’s supposed to be from the Dracchus scene with Denna, but the image doesn’t look quite right for Name of the Wind. It’s just so generic fantasy. I also don’t like how the image is cropped top and bottom to make way for a very generic marble background. Still, the image is colorful and exciting, even if it could be the cover for any fantasy novel ever.

5/10

Paperback UK 2011 Edition

What the FUCK happened here? Who let this shit happen?

-10/10

Hardcover Finnish August 2010 Edition

Ooooh, more Miyazaki fanart! This is actually quite lovely, and it fits the tone of the books much better than the kids book cover from before. I love how soft and gentle the painting is. Notice the color balance. I don’t know if this cover really ‘grabs’ you or draws interest, but it’s one of my favorites of the bunch.

10/10

Paperback Bulgarian October 2010 Edition

I reserve the right to change my opinion later, but this may be the worst contender in the cloaked and hooded figure from behind category. I actually had to double check that this wasn’t a reused image from the mass market paperback edition, but nope! This is a brand new cover image, and it’s absolute shit. The lighting is so dark it’s impossible to make out details, the balance is way off, and the cover and title text are placed over the figure (aka the only object of interest) instead of the boring, generic storm clouds.

0/10

Hardcover Lithuanian 2011 Edition

YIKES times two. This cover art is truly awful in ways I didn’t know could still happen. Kvothe’s face looks ‘off’ because the facial proportions are all wrong. The blue mystical katana is bizarre because there’s no magical sword, much less a katana, in the story. And is that a photo of Stonehenge in the background? With yet another hooded figure?! I do like the gold foil of the title and the golden dragon embellishment, but the rest of this is such shit.

0/10

Paperback Serbian February 2011

And we’re back in the safe territory of a cloaked figure staring off at a distant city! All these covers are starting to run together, but this is a new cover art. It just looks like all the others. Once again, it’s fine. The city is a little too distant and greyed out to hold interest, and the figure is kind of generic.

5/10

Paperback Italian 2008 Edition

I do not know what happened here. Who is this figure supposed to be? I cannot for the life of me figure out which character this is. It’s a shame, because it’s well-done art with a cool character and costume design. The title and author text obscure the image, though, and the shadow on the text is so extreme it’s hilarious.

0/10

Hardcover Hungarian 2009 Edition

This is just boring. There’s no information conveyed here, nothing interesting or arresting to attract the viewer’s attention. The translucent overlay on the title is an odd choice.

2/10

Paperback Persian 2016 Edition

I believe this was originally a fanart of Kvothe (correct me if I’m wrong please), but it’s a good one. The tree shadow in the back is distracting and obscures the handle of the lute on his back, though. I wish there was more here – it feels very spare in an unintentional way.

6/10

Hardcover Georgian 2016 Edition

Cloaked and hooded figure staring off into the distance, check. I’m not crazy about this one – the art is very soft in a blurred kind of way, and it reads as a little humdrum. The tower in the distance is quite dull – it looks like a modern office building.

4/10

Hardcover Italian October 2016 Edition

The title text is a little too high – I don’t like how it covers the figure’s chin. It’s not a bad idea to make Kvothe’s green eyes a focal point, and it’s certainly more of an original idea than most of these covers have shown. But the muted color pallete drags the whole mood down. It’s not evocative, just kind of damp.

5/10

Hardcover 10th Anniversary French November 2019

I LOVE this cover. It’s gorgeous. I love the gold foil, love the text, love the clouds. It’s stunning and timeless. Amazing.

10/10

Hardcover Latvian October 2013 Edition

It’s a cloaked figure with a city in the distance, but he’s NOT looking at the city! What!! I’m rather surprised at how few covers feature Kvothe actually playing the lute – this may be the only one, actually. I don’t like the bottom fade, and I think the design is a little generic fantasy. But it’s a nice balance, and the title text is fancy and eye-catching.

7/10

Paperback Polish 2017 Edition

This cover artist also clearly wasn’t working off an excerpt from the book. The character design is so off and unlike Kvothe, except for the cloak. Wall texture looks like a photo manipulation, which is cheap. This whole thing is bad.

0/10

Hardcover Russian 2015 Edition

What is with the Stonehenge imagery? And why is that guy floating off of Stonehenge in a modern hoodie? Why is that one leaf in the top right so huge? Why is the title text red and difficult to read? At least there’s a broken lute, I guess.

1/10

Paperback Chinese May 2012 Edition

This is incredibly lazy and the photoshop job is terrible and generic. Zero effort was put into this cover.

0/10

Hardcover Russian 2011 Edition

I’ve been pretty harsh on Russia, mostly because the Russian covers have been terrible. This is ok-ish. It’s very generic fantasy, and the castle looks like Hogwarts. But it has visual interest, even if the title text color is garish.

2/10

Japanese 2017 Edition

I quite love that they turned Kvothe into an anime character. And he’s doing stuff, too, and not just staring out into the middle distance. There’s so much imagery of the broken lute in these covers, so it’s refreshing to see the other part of this scene – when Kvothe loses his shit and finally calls the name of the wind. Fun cover, good artwork. The red title text works here because it matches Kvothe’s hair.

9/10

WORST:

BEST:

#The name of the wind #kingkiller chronicle #patrick rothfuss #book cover art #books #apologies for poor image quality i was working with what god and goodreads gave me #which was variable image quality i guess #I've been told I'm very judgemental so I decided to put those judgey skills to good use

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childoftimeandmagic · 4 years

Text

Got Our Whole Lives

I really should be working on my Practical Magic!Klaroline fic, but this was tumbling, rumbling and rolling around in my brain instead.

Merthur fic for @kickassfu because she’s amazing and I love her.

You can also read it here AO3.

“Are you sure that Merlin’s working till seven tonight?” Arthur asked, for the twelfth time that afternoon as he sat in Gwen’s living room as Morgana walked back in with two mugs of tea one for her and one for Gwen.

Gwen took the mug from Morgana and shifted on the loveseat so that Morgana could sit with her before focusing on Arthur who was frantically typing into his laptop as he organized a surprise trip for him and Merlin’s second anniversary. “Yes Arthur, your boyfriend who you talk to everyday at least 12 of the 24 hours will be off work at seven alright?”

Arthur flipped her off and focused on reserving the caravan from the company he’d found online as well as the tram tickets to Normandy. He had asked Merlin to request the 17th to the 25th of June off so that they could finally take a proper holiday together. Merlin had stared at him eyeing him suspiciously as he called his boss to put in for the requested dates. Thankfully, his boyfriend hadn’t asked him what they were doing. Proclaiming that if they were going on a holiday then Arthur was planning it as Merlin was going to be finishing his Masters thesis in early June and honestly couldn’t be arsed to also plan a posh vacation up to Arthur’s aristocratic standards.

“We’re going to be caravanning?” Merlin’s voice broke through his concentration as he was going through the plan one more time. Slamming his laptop closed he looked up at Merlin who was standing just inside the living room looking down at him like he’d lost his marbles.

“What are you doing here you aren’t supposed to be here till half past seven,” he hissed, his face flushing as Merlin sat down on the floor next to him and gently handed him his phone which had two missed calls and five unanswered texts. It was also telling him that it was ten to eight – oh.

“You didn’t answer what you wanted to get for dinner and then Gwen sent me a text saying that she couldn’t ravage your sister with you in the flat,” Merlin said softly, his eyes looking at Arthur with that love and adoration that sometimes made Arthur feel stunted.

“Right we should head off,” he said standing up stiffly and pulling his laptop bag over to his side shoving the offending instrument into the finished leather.

“Arthur are you okay?” Merlin asked, they were halfway back to the flat that they shared close enough to the university and Merlin’s café job, that Arthur didn’t mind taking the extra underground line to his job in City Centre.

“Huh, oh yea,” he said, squeezing Merlin’s hand in his and pulling him in for a chaste kiss. “Better now though.”

“Right but you know me joking that you had to plan our first holiday wasn’t an effort for you to keep it a secret,” he said, cupping Arthur’s cheek with his free hand.

“I know but I want it to be a surprise,” Arthur said, as they passed the Indian take-away place a block before the apartment. “We’re eating Indian for dinner.”

Merlin laughed as his boyfriend changed the subject from what their holiday plans were to what their most pressing plans were, frankly if they had Indian take-away for dinner every night, Merlin thought Arthur would be happiest. Following him into the shop he smiled as Arthur ordered one of every appetizer before ordering Merlin’s Lamb Saagwala and his own Chicken Biryani both moderately spicy for two white boys from the countryside and wrapping the order up with an obscene number of naan.

“You know I don’t get paid till Friday right,” Merlin whispered, into Arthur’s ear when Arthur had paid and walked over to stand next to where Merlin was sitting on a stool by the window.

“I know it’s my treat,” Arthur said, wrapping his arms around Merlin’s waist pressing a kiss to his cheek and hiding his face against Merlin’s neck.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Merlin asked, rubbing his hands across Arthur’s back.

“I’m fine just want you to have the best holiday ever,” Arthur whispered, placing a kiss to Merlin’s pulse point.

“Okay, but we could hide in the flat and not go anywhere for a week and it would be the best vacation ever,” Merlin said, leaning into Arthur’s rare showing of public affection.

“Right, but you’ve never gone on a holiday outside the country, and I want your first one to be with me,” Arthur said, squeezing Merlin tighter in his arms.

“Alright, but can you at least tell me if we’re doing a roadtrip or a resort,” Merlin teased, running his fingers through his boyfriend’s hair it was growing longer than he normally let it get. Merlin was selfishly happy that Arthur had let his hair grow out slightly.

“Fine you twat, we’re gonna roadtrip for a week,” Arthur relented, pulling back to look at Merlin eyes searching for any sign of disappointment or reluctance to the plan. All he saw was admiration and love.

“Sounds amazing, I’m not sure I could have handled a posh resort where you and your cronies hang around when not at Parliament to talk about defrauding the everyday people of more social services,” Merlin said, completely straight faced while Arthur winced and pulled away.

“I can not believe that you just tried to tie me to my late father’s political party,” Arthur gasped, hand on chest.

“I know you’re the good party who only does marginally better for the people,” Merlin said, pulling Arthur back into his arms grinning like a loon.

“You are a twat,” Arthur said, trying not to give into Merlin’s teasing.

“Well it’s better than being a Clotpole,” Merlin said, kissing Arthur’s cheek before pushing him back towards the counter as they called out his name.

Arthur laughed as he walked back to his boyfriend who had unfolded himself from the stool to stand by the door. Waving to the employees and wishing them a good night Arthur and Merlin walked out into the night towards home.

Finished, it was done and he didn’t need to be back in the Politics and International Relation Hall until the first week of July to defend his thesis to the faculty panel. Rolling over he frowned, it was Saturday and Arthur didn’t work on Saturdays. So why was he missing from their bed? Merlin got up grabbing one of Arthur’s rugby shirts from the top of the wardrobe and walked out of the bedroom to find Arthur sitting at his laptop frowning in the kitchen.

“Who died?” he asked, walking closer to rub Arthurs shoulders.

“Huh – oh we got upgraded,” Arthur said, reaching up to tangle his fingers with Merlin’s against his left shoulder.

“Why does that have you looking like you just got a call about someone dying,” Merlin pressed, his thumb rubbing against Arthur’s hand.

“It’s just uh bigger than I was expecting,” he said, showing Merlin the large caravan.

“That’s like a proper lorry,” Merlin commented looking at the specs before looking at Arthur.

“Well can we go back to the original mini camper?” Merlin asked, squeezing his hand reassuringly.

“Yea, but it won’t be ready till tomorrow,” Arthur said, sighing as he turned and buried his face in Merlin’s middle wrapping his arms around his boyfriend.

“Okay so we leave on the train first thing in the morning tomorrow for Calais,” Merlin reasoned out, rubbing circles on Arthur’s shoulders.

“You don’t mind not starting your freedom from the city right away?” Arthur repeated after Merlin nudged him for mumbling into his torso.

“Nope, because I think that we can find plenty to distract us right here,” Merlin said, raising his eyebrow and nodding back towards the bedroom he’d just left. “I’m not sure I feel properly loved.”

Arthur barked out a laugh before standing up his hands gripping Merlin’s thin hips as he hoisted him up into his arms as Merlin laughed. While roughly the same height Merlin was definitely an inch taller, but he lacked the muscular physique of years of rugby and footie that Arthur had, and loved it when Arthur picked him up in his arms.

“I can’t believe we’re going on a roadtrip across the north coast of France and you didn’t even plan one battleground or museum visit,” Merlin teased, he sat in the seat his legs across Arthur’s lap since it wasn’t a manual vehicle.

“You just spent the last two months writing a thesis on the battles of the Normandy conquest. I made the executive decision that this would be nature parks, cafes, beach walks, and ocean spray not academics.” Arthur snapped, huffing as he passed a lorry on the left.

“I love it, and appreciate that you put so much effort into this trip for me,” Merlin said, pulling his feet out of Arthur’s lap to lean over and kiss his cheek.

“Uh huh, how long is my plan going to last?” Arthur asked, eyebrows raised shaking his head.

“Probably till the first time we stop and I see a sign for a stuffy local museum,” Merlin admitted laughing when Arthur groaned.

“Next time we go to a nice resort that has nude beaches and no museums near it,” Arthur grumbled, turning up the music playing through the sound system.

“Fine I’ll stop teasing you with my obsession with wasting days away in stuffy museums,” Merlin said, carding his fingers through Arthur’s hair.

“Twat.”

“Dollop head.”

“Are you ever going to tell me what that means?”

“Nope.”

Soon they devolved into Arthur driving and Merlin fiddling with the playlist on his phone until he found one he wanted, and leaned against the seat arm to kiss Arthur quickly before pulling away. Arthur laughed as Merlin folded his long limbs into a pretzel sit and leaned his head against the window eyes dropping already. Merlin always fell asleep if he wasn’t the one driving.

Arthur smiled and relaxed as he followed the GPS directions to Camping des Dunes, a beach campground. It was rustic and relaxing.

Pulling in he followed the directions to the beach front parking. It was crowded but not the levels that Gwaine and Percival had warned him about. Parking and pulling up the emergency brake he pressed a kiss to Merlin’s temple and turned his seat around to set up the bedding and open the back door so that they could sleep to the sounds of the ocean behind them. Once he’d done that he grabbed the small grill and bag of charcoal so that they could cook up the chicken kababs that they’d made up yesterday afternoon.

“Are we there?” Merlin asked, turning to look out the side door at Arthur who was stoking the coals to get them hot. Rubbing his eyes, he looked around and smiled at Arthur who grinned back.

“Go take a look around, I’m just heating up the coals and then I’ll find you okay?” Arthur asked, rubbing the small little box in his jean pocket.

“I’m going to see what the amenities are like and then the beach I’ll be back in like ten minutes,” Merlin said, pulling Arthur close for a quick kiss which turned into a longer moment than he planned. “I can’t leave here if you don’t let me go.”

“I don’t want to let you go,” Arthur mumbled, tightening his grip around Merlin’s middle before releasing him.

“I’ll be back soon,” Merlin said, walking off to explore.

Once the coals were adequately hot, he covered the grill and started off to look for Merlin. As Arthur walked over to the beach which was just around the hedge he’d parked next too. Walking on the sand his sandals in his hand. Looking for his boyfriend, he admired the sun glinting off the waves and the sand. Merlin was sitting on the top of the dune staring out at the waves.

“Hey Emrys, you get lost in your head,” he asked, sitting next to his partner.

“Sorry I was sitting in the sun and it felt so good. Can we have dinner after the sun sets?” Merlin said, leaning against Arthur’s shoulder. Arthur shifted so that his chest was against Merlin’s back. Arthur chuckled and settled back into the dune, pulling Merlin into his arms holding him tight.

“It’s beautiful here,” Merlin murmured, trailing his fingers up and down Arthur’s legs as he relaxed into Arthur’s hold.

“I’m glad you find it so beautiful,” Arthur said, shifting so that he could rest his chin on Merlin’s shoulder. “I have a question for you dearheart.”

“What’s going on darling,” Merlin asked, shifting so he could look at Arthur. Pulling away and looking at his boyfriend Merlin searched his face for a hint at what was on Arthur’s mind.

“So we’ve been dating for the last three years and living together for two, and you’ve been with me for some of the hardest moments in my life,” Arthur started taking a deep breath and reaching out to hold Merlin’s hand in his. “You helped me come out to my Father, you helped me reconcile my grief with my anger after he died. When I think about the future and where I want to be in it, Merlin you’re right by my side. I don’t – no I can’t imagine my life without you in it.”

Merlin took the pause that Arthur inadvertently took a breath to hold up his hand. “I need you to hold that thought because if you’re doing what I think you’re doing I need to grab something from my pack.”

Arthur was sitting in the sand watching the love of his life run across the beach back to their caravan and then running back only tripping twice, thankfully not biting it and falling. When Merlin fell to his feet in front of him Arthur eyed the small green box in his hands before Arthur pulled out a small black box from his jeans. They looked at each other and promptly devolved into laughs holding onto each other.

“Can I finish please?” Arthur asked, looking at Merlin eyes wide as he cupped his cheeks, rubbing his thumb across the stubble.

“By all means you aristocratic poof,” Merlin teased, sneaking a kiss before pulling away to hold Arthur’s hands in his.

“As I was saying – I was wondering if you’d do me the honor of making me the happiest lord in England and man on earth by marrying me?” Arthur asked, opening the box in his left hand to reveal a dark band with flecks of blues, golds, reds in the center of the band shifting in the sunlight.

“I first would like to point out that I was hoping to ask you while you stargazed tonight, but I – I don’t want to wait. I’ll marry you if you’ll marry me?” Merlin said, grinning looking at his boyfriend as he opened the green box in his hand revealing an elegant and smooth gold band with a gentle engraving on the inside in sloping interconnected lines.

“Nothing would make me happier,” Arthur said, taking Merlin’s left hand in his right while Merlin took Arthur’s left hand in his. Once they interchanged the rings, Arthur pulled Merlin into a gentle kiss. Resting his forehead against Merlin’s, Arthur smiled and stood up slowly.

“We gotta go cook dinner, otherwise we won’t have any coals left to use,” Arthur said, taking Merlin back to the caravan. This road trip was going to be more amazing than they’d originally thought.

“After dinner we have to call mum and tell her the good news,” Merlin said, intertwining their fingers. Arthur laughed and nodded as they separated to complete the required tasks.

#writing corner #my fics #k wrote a thing #for maf #because she makes my world brighter #kickassfu #merthur #merlin #bbc merlin #arthur pendragon

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