#also doubting yourself and feeling compelled to ask his opinion on it because even though you guys are the same age he always seems to know

[suusoh]

you're going to kill us in curiosity if you don't tell us any soon!!!!

I have to soft launch it HFAJSDHFAHAH. mithridatism my dear anon. slowly feed you guys these thoughts until you're immune to faux mother-daughter incest dynamics. that's basically it.

[twistedmusings]

Vil Schoenheit: After RSA’S Performance

The first time he had been left speechless was because of you.

You who always knew what to say, you who always had an answer to the problem at hand.

Where were you?

A/N: What is formatting. I don’t even know.

But listen though. When did Vil get hot? I mean he has always been hot but is it now because he is sad boy? A rude boy turned sad boy? Is that why I am attracted to him now and was compelled to write this?

I don’t know but I’m in love so I’m going to run with it.

This is how Vil would react if MC looked like they were enjoying RSA’s performance.

Part 2, here!

What Vil felt couldn’t really be put into words.

His grades would say that he was one of the highest ranking students in the Language Arts for Night Raven College. Not just in regular human speech but also in fairy-dialect, animal dialect and any sort of dialect that Professor Trein would demand. Vil also excelled in prose, poetry and abstract writing.

Being left speechless was not something that was supposed to happen, not twice in a row.

The tightening of his throat would speak otherwise, as well as the sudden feeling of vertigo.

Vil could barely hear Kalim through the jovial sound of Neige’s voice, the one thing that had kept him awake for these past few weeks--no these past few years. When was the last time that he had felt so helpless? Was it when he had first met him? Neige, with his bright smile and lovable personality that made people overlook his mistakes, his very obvious mistakes. The way he wouldn’t go when it was his cue, or how Neige would forget almost every other line only to finally have the script memorized by the time it was opening night.

A children’s song.

“What even is this song! The chorus just won’t leave my head!”

He wasn’t even ready during dress rehearsal, Neige would wait until fucking opening night.

Was it dramatic to say that the whole event had haunted him? As well as the domino effect of undeserved fame that Neige had gotten afterwards?

No, to Vil, being overshadowed by this person despite all the effort that he put into each and everyone of his performances was something akin to being shot by a gun.

Over and over and over.

He had been beaten by a children’s song.

Every single commercial, every music video, every promotion and every product placement that Neige did was like a dagger carving him up from the inside out.

So when the VDC presented itself, he jumped at the chance to not just shape himself into the perfect being to defeat Neige, but to shape others to show that not only could he surpass himself but he could help others break through their own ‘ugly’ exteriors to discover their own personal beauty. And by all means he had done it, he had taken five rough and ugly rocks and turned them into polished jewels.

Polished jewels that framed the diamond he had worked so hard to turn himself into.

His grip on the audience seat loosens when something flashes through his mind.

The practices had been rather arduous, not only having to make sure that he was flawless but trying to deal with Epel’s stupid gender based ideas, Ace and Deuce’s lack of grace and even Kalim’s really really terrible singing voice. Yet something had made it even a little bit worth it.

Someone, he needed to correct himself, someone had made it a bit worth it.

The sixth potato that he had hoped to start shaping after this whole thing was over.

What could he say about you? At first glance you were truly nothing special. An uneventful, magicless person from an equally uneventful place that hadn’t even been accepted into this school but was instead made a student because of the monster next to you. You weren’t even a student, more like a glorified problem solver for the Headmaster. Ideally, Vil should have also hated your guts since you were essentially getting the same education that he had been getting when he was a first year but without any effort but there was something different about you that he had not expected.

I think you’re probably the fairest out of everyone in the school.

A small glimmer of something beautiful.

But in the end your opinion is the one that will matter to you.

You were honest. That is something that Rook had mentioned about you once he did his recon of the new manager for the VDC team. How the Ramshackle prefect really didn’t have anything to offer but that the quality that stood out the most to the hunter was your refreshing honesty.

He had modeled for crowds of adoring fans and yet he found himself pulling out his pocket mirror and fixing non-existent imperfections before talking to you. Yet even when he tried to make himself look presentable to you, you always seemed to catch him when all of his walls were down.

“You should have seen the information that I got from Riddle, Leona, and Azul. They have really gotten a reputation behind them, the Ramshackle prefect. I wonder what will happen if we keep them close~”

Vil wouldn’t admit it to anyone but there had been a brief moment that his heart skipped a beat when the news about how the VDC team would be rooming in Ramshackle. He figured it had skipped out of beat due to the horrific news that he would have to room in a dorm that had not been used for who knows how long but when he had come inside and been greeted by your smile, it was almost surreal how he had come to terms with this feeling of nervousness.

The night before the VDC had found Vil in the Ramshackle lounge, a cup of tea in his hand as he watched a video of that day’s performance. There were still minor imperfections here and there but those would be easily covered up by his own singing and movements. Epel had also improved exponentially which highly increased the probability of a successful performance and with Jami’s hypnotizing movements and Rook’s aura there was no doubt that he had this competition under his heel.

But nerves like these didn’t leave overnight.

A creak on the stairs brought him back to the present, taking a sip of his tea as he continued to look at the video.

“If you’re here to ask me about why I am awake at this hour, Rook, I would like to remind you that you insisted we review the performance in the morning which already did nothing to calm my nerves--”

"Vil-senpai?"

His head snapped up to look at you , the light of the moon masking him in shadows while illuminating you as you made your way down the staircase. He clicked his tongue and turned off his phone.

"Was I interrupting something?"

Vil shook his head, “Last minute detail check. Everything has to be perfect by tomorrow.”

You nod and walk towards him, standing next to the couch before pointing to it. Vil looked at you before looking at the seat next to him. What were you--oh. He nodded and you sat down on the other side of the love seat, both of you farther apart that he would have liked.

“Does the manager have anything they want to say to me?”

“It just gets me thinking. You have been doing this performance perfectly in my eyes. Over and over again that it makes me wonder just what you think is lacking.”

You bring your feet up to the seat, hugging your knees together as you look down at the floor, “Maybe your definition of perfect and my definition of perfect are so different.”

The Pomefiore dorm leader rolls his eyes, “Did your Heartslabyul friends put you up to this?”

“Ace and Deuce? Great Sevens no. If they did I would have rightfully ignored them and gone to bed. I’m just your manager, I’m not here to negotiate.”

“Just a manager.” Vil frowns and looks at you, “You understand that you are currently housing the Vil Schoenheit as well as six other people who happen to be under my temporary tutelage. If you and your dorm weren’t around I would have had to keep those two Heartslabyul potatoes in the Pomefiore dorm and I don’t think I could stand letting them sleep in one of our beds. Our dorm has standards, luckily yours is the most neutral place I can stand being around those two without losing sleep.”

He blinks at the snort you let out, staring as you wave your hands and apologize while trying to prevent another one from surfacing.

“That is the only straightforward compliment my dorm has received. Neutral.” you laugh again before wiping a fake tear from your eyes, “Am I allowed to take it as a compliment?”

Vil is glad for the darkness, it hid the sudden flush in his cheeks.

“Take it as you will.”

You nod and stand up, stretching and letting out a satisfied sigh when your back made a small cracking noise that had Vil clutching at his cup. Anybody else and he would have walked out of whatever conversation he was having, so why did he find that tolerable with you?

“Then let me pay it back.” you hold out your hand and for a brief moment Vil wants to take it. Clearly that was an invitation for something and it alarmed him that he didn’t mind the mystery behind it. Yet your finger pointed at the cup, Vil looking down and seeing it was empty.

Oh.

He hands it to you, doing his best to make it so that your fingers would brush in the most accidental way possible.

“In my own opinion, as well as the opinion of others, I think you are the fairest out of everyone in the school.”

The air in Vil’s lungs gets caught in his throat.

“No joke. The way you carry yourself, the effort you put into everything you are a part of. Even the potato comments are almost...endearing? Potato plants produce rather pretty flowers, right? Maybe you are just trying to get the flowers inside of us to bloom as well?”

He is staring.

He is staring and not saying anything. You had left him without speech.

“But in the end your opinion will be the one that matters most to you. I just hope that it will always be positive.” you scratch the back of your head and yawn, “I’m going to grab a glass of water and head back to bed, I’ll see you in the morning.”

Your eyes are still meeting his as a small flush adorned your cheeks, probably embarrassed by what you had just said. Or he would like to think you would be embarrassed, if this was any regular love story he would stand up and grab your wrist and keep you from running away from him before cupping your face and leaning in--

“Good night, Vil-senpai.”

"Goodnight."

You who always knew what to say, you who always had an answer to the problem at hand.

Where were you?

His eyes start looking around for your figure, hands itching and brain running slower than it ever had before. Maybe you would make it better? No, you would make it better. You would go over to him and smile before saying that the competition hadn’t even started and just because that song seemed to be moving everyone under a stupid nostalgia spell, Vil’s hardwork would shine through. Neige hadn’t taken everything from him, not just yet.

Vil feels the weight on his shoulders lessen when he looks at you only for it to double when he sees your face.

You were smiling, humming along to the silly melody as your head bobbed up and down.

Even in practice your gaze remained fixed on them, yet with Neige you seemed to feel that infectious, annoying melody and enjoying it?

“What’s wrong? You look pale.”

Had he lost you as well?

“Vil...Vil?”

The first time he had been left speechless was because of you.

“...Nothing. Don’t worry.” he turns his back to Rook, “It’s not worth seeing their performance. I will be in the waiting room.”

Vil walks away, so many thoughts clouding his head as he replays the words you had said to him.

Who the hell cared about his opinion when yours was just as important?

[readerinsertfanfiction]

Rain Check

Fandom: Ikemen Sengoku

Character: Kennyo (and an appearance of Shingen)

Prompt: I was talking to Mama ( @silhouette-of-a-dream​ ) about what Kennyo and Shingen would be like as roommates. This is the result of it. Modern AU! 

Warnings: Academic stress, academic life, because Kennyo is a scholar-type. Getting drenched in the rain, mentions of food. 

Word count: +2K

When Kennyo woke up that day he knew that it was going to rain. He could see it from the colour of the sky, but also in the way the air clung onto his skin when he opened the windows and smelled the air, humidity coming its way promising something to alleviate the sweltering heat of summer. Perhaps a morning run would do him well, to fill up his lungs with fresh air and clear his mind. It could even help him avoid the arrival of Shingen who had decided to stay out for the night again, no doubt about to return smelling like the perfume of yet another lady and some lipstick stains in his collar.

How the man managed to be prim and proper by the time the first class started was beyond Kennyo, but he had long since given up trying to figure out the mysteries of his frolicking friend. At least Shingen had the decency not to bring his conquests home, the walls of their shared apartment not thick enough to spare Kennyo from the sinful sounds his friend would produce.

It sometimes went a little beyond the man on why he had agreed again to live together with his friend. Was it because of Yukimura’s pleading that someone needed to look after Shingen’s sugar intake? Or perhaps something within the man himself still felt compelled to look after this hopeless man and his lustful lifestyle.

For now Kennyo decided that it was time to put Shingen out of his mind, not wanting to be hit with dark clouds attracted to his brooding thoughts while he was out on a run. Shoes on and fitbit ready he thus made his way out of the door, the consideration of taking an umbrella with him just barely there before dismissing it. He would shower after his run anyway, provided that Shingen wasn’t occupying it.

It occurred to Kennyo how often he thought of his friend. It earned a scowl on his face as he fit the earbuds into place, turning the music louder that would hopefully drown out his thoughts. Cursed be his friend, and darned be the decision that had ever moved him to move here. Next year he was going to move out. That he told himself, just as he had done so the year before.

Any thought of Shingen would soon be banished, however. A good ten minutes into his run the sky broke open, first a drizzle through which Kennyo persisted, not worried about a little water, before it steadily grew into a cold shower that chilled him more than that his run warmed him. By then Kennyo had reached halfway through the path he had planned to take that day, having reached just short before the forest park he usually picked for its peaceful scenery and overall serenity. Today it didn’t seem like a good idea to run between the trees, however, as somewhere up ahead he could hear the rumble, a low growl coming from above sent to the mortals below.

He hoped that Shingen got drenched. But the man had been wearing a white button-up yesterday and Kennyo could already imagine the stares he would fetch and the pride in which his friend would walk.

Damn him and everyone else for being taken by such shallow fleeting appearances.

But as stated a few paragraphs back, the thought of Shingen would soon be banished. Not because of the rain, for Kennyo had been expecting that one. Not because thunder struck him, his luck wasn’t that bad, though bad enough to live together with his best friend, but because in the distance there was a figure crouched in the rain, a figure shivering as if trying to grasp the fleeting warmth that escaped through drenched clothes.

It reminded him of Ranmaru, once upon a time, before Kennyo had interfered and entered him into the family temple to receive shelter and education there. You, however, were much older than Ranmaru and he recognised you as one of the postgraduate students from university. A different faculty, to be sure, but you had come by nonetheless, mostly to inquire on his own expertise within his field, and because Kennyo happened to be a methodology expert as well.

“You,” he called, concern coursing through him as he realised that the image was off. You were supposed to be at home, warm and safe. Judging by the time you were supposed to be hitting the snooze button on your alarm for a few more times before deciding to poison yourself with the first cup of coffee before groaning about the long day ahead and the struggle that was called the thesis.

But you weren’t and nothing in your appearance suggested to him that you were out for a run just like he was. The jump you made at the sound of his voice also suggested that you hadn’t expected anyone to notice you, or even to pass by.

“What are you doing sitting in the rain?” Kennyo’s tone had softened up after the initial call, reminding himself not to frown, for that was what usually made the students cower in his presence when asking for his opinion on their essays.

What your look meant, he couldn’t tell. Wide-eyed and surprised, a little bit too discerning as well as he could feel the way your gaze glided over his form. Perhaps it was something different from what he usually wore at university, but even he was a man with a life outside of his studies and work.

“Well?” and here Kennyo winced at his own tone, the professor within him rumbling up as if trying to ask for an explanation from a student who had missed the deadline so clearly announced in the syllabi.

The way you twitched was enough of a confirmation on how well this ‘voice’ of him worked, as another startle went through you before you quickly scrambled up, looking guilty of something that went beyond Kennyo as well.

“You should get out of the rain quickly, else you catch a cold,” the man interrupted you before an explanation could come. Kennyo didn’t need one, it was not for him to pry, though he hoped that you didn’t make a habit out of this. That it wasn’t one already.

To this you twiddle your thumbs, head lowering further as Kennyo waits for you to react or to turn around and leave. You did neither, and as the moment dragged on a sigh leaves him, an understanding falling over as the man runs a hand through his wet locks. It earns another portrubing stare from your side, startling the man in his turn as he quickly regains himself.

“You can come over to my apartment? Just to warm up. It isn’t too far away,” he tells you and this time you agree, nodding with a small and grateful smile as the two of you turn around.

Kennyo is digging through his clothes for something appropriate for you as breakfast is cooking in the background. He is still wet, and only now does he realise that the shirt he is wearing is clinging onto his form from the rain and leaves little to the imagination despite it being black. But he doesn’t care, allowing and insisting that you shower first while he handed you a new towel and set off to look for wear. It is the only time he curses Shingen in envy, for Kennyo doesn’t possess the discerning eye to tell your sizes by just a glance.

Envy soon makes place for annoyance as the familiar click of the door sounds the arrival of his friend, a sound booming through the otherwise quiet place as Shingen knows Kennyo is an early riser.

“It smells great!” he announces as Kennyo rushes himself out of his room, some pantalons and a dress shirt in hands that he had randomly grabbed. Shingen’s eyes widen at the appearance of his friend, hand already on the door handle of the shower just like Kennyo had feared as he quickly pulls his friend away.

“I’m not in the shower, you lech,” comes his admonishment and Shingen doesn’t quite recover for another moment as he keeps on staring at Kennyo and then into the direction of the shower where so clearly the sound of water running is coming from.

“Did you?” He questions after a short silence and Kennyo steps away from Shingen in disgust as he realises the man smells like perfume and lust and sin from the previous night. The insinuation isn’t lost on Kennyo, he isn’t oblivious, but he refuses to amuse his friend by pretending he understands it either as he scowls further.

“I ran into someone in need of help. Go wash up in your own room,” he tells Shingen before marching over to the shower and firmly knocks the door. It earns a pause from the other side as a quiet ‘yes?’ follows, earning another choked up look from Shingen.

“I left some dry clothes at the door,” he speaks, loud enough to be heard over the running water if it was still running before turning back to his friend, who also is drenched, the white button-up seen-through just as predicted.

“Don’t even think of it,” Kennyo warns before he turns off the fire on the stove, checking in on breakfast before deciding to leave it in the pan for a little while longer to keep it warm. “I’m going to shower first and then you can go in,” he informs Shingen briskly before turning to his room to fetch his items and his own set of dry clothes.

Shingen doesn’t say anything but smile to himself, which annoys Kennyo all the more because he knows what the man is thinking.

Thoughts he soon forgets when he meets you outside of the shower, some colour back into your face and your lips looking more naturally shaded than what it had before. The clothes he has given to you are too large, as expected, but Kennyo is relieved to find that they cover you up decently enough and reminds himself to dig up a belt for you later and a pair of socks.

“I prepared breakfast if you want, don’t give Shingen any.” The manner in which he tells you this is so gentle that you aren’t even sure to take it seriously, eyes blinking rapidly as your eyes turn to his lecherous friend already seated ready enjoying a sunny side-up that Kennyo had quickly fixed him as a compromise.

“Yo, so Kennyo decided to pick you up, huh?” Shingen is quick to point out and Kennyo would have growled out a correction if he hadn’t already shut the door and peeled off the wet clothes from his body. At least the warm water relieves him somewhat as he steps out refreshed and warmed up minutes later, fast as ever.

“This is the first time Kennyo ever brought someone home, so what’s the deal?” Kennyo can hear the interrogation Shingen is throwing you under, just as he can hear the discomfort that it brings you as you try to explain that it wasn’t anything he thinks he is. But Shingen being Shingen doesn’t pay it any heed when he knows Kennyo is within hearing distance, having timed the question perfectly with the estimated time that Kennyo needs to wash himself up.

“Can you stop that?” the man interferes instead, scowl back on his face once more before prodding the man out of his seat and pushing him away from the dinner table. “Go shower, you stink of sin. I should be rinsing you in holy water if it wasn’t to burn you instead,” Kennyo continues to frown, earning a mirthful laugh from Shingen who bids you a goodbye.

“Kennyo could stand to loosen up, maybe you can help him with that!” are the man’s last words before he is shoved into the shower where Kennyo shuts the door into Shingen’s face.

He never finds out why you were out in the rain that morning, but it isn’t the last he sees of you. Be it either because Kennyo tries to keep tabs on you despite his own busy schedule, or because you are suddenly standing in front of his office with his clothes washed and pressed in a bag.

“With a little something as a thank you,” you supply, looking much better than the day he had found you in the rain. You seem more confident, more glowing, though there is still a remnant of that guilty caught red-handed student he had seen before. It occurs to him that you could never be a student of his, for there isn’t actually much of a difference between the two of you within the academic ranks.

“Starbucks?” he questions, not remembering ever expressing a love for it, or even liking it. Quite the opposite, he recalls, remembering all of the disapproving glares he shot into the direction of Shingen who also happened to be his office-mate.

Yeah, he mentioned his luck being non-existent but not being too bad. That was because Shingen took the majority of it.

“I saw a bunch of Starbucks merchandise in your cabinet, or thought I saw such?” you question and Kennyo has to hold in the heaving sigh that is threatening to escape as he curses Shingen’s addiction to the sugary drinks there that over priced themselves.

“I’m sure he would enjoy it,” Kennyo manages to smile without scowling at the mention of Shingen. As long as he doesn’t mention the name of the fiend he is fine, or so the man has found.

“But I didn’t help you for your gratitude, it was a whim,” he continues, ready to hand back the gift as you already shot your hands up in refusal.

“I didn’t give it only out of gratitude,” you announce, and for a moment your eyes meet and Kennyo sees something that he had seen before in them. Before in that rain, when your eyes probed and lingered a bit too long for his own comfort. This time it is mixed with hope as you release a sigh of your own, as if to gather courage before meeting him in the face once more.

“I was hoping that maybe we could talk about my thesis for a bit?” The request isn’t too uncommon, after all, fellow academics had to help each other out a hand and Kennyo never turned down anyone in need of help. It was a well-known fact from all and a badly kept secret of his own faculty, but coming from you it is different.

It sounds like a promise for more. And Kenno surprisingly likes the thought of perhaps seeing more of you, if only so that he can continue to keep tabs on you. Or perhaps because a part of him is truly interested in you in the way Shingen has been teasing him relentlessly about.

“Sounds like a plan,” he finally answers, and the smile that escapes him is warm and gentle enough that it warms himself from within, as much as that it spreads out over you who returns the same smile as if reflecting a mirror.

[dabi-drift]

Could we have a shy s/o who asks geten out on a date + relationship headcanons please, sorry if this is too much you can pick one or the other if you want✨ btw I love your work, always looking forward to your posts!

Ahh, this was such a cute concept to me! It’s a little longer than usual, and I spent virtually all day on it, so I hope it’s good! And thank youuuu!! That’s awesome, and so appreciated! ^^

Geten’s Shy S/O Asking Him Out:

❈ Your timidity was all-consuming, and really impacted on your social relations. When in a conversation, you'd find yourself unable to look the person in the eyes. Your gaze would drift to the ground, like you didn’t feel worthy enough to even give the illusion of being on their level. A raised head would've sent out the wrong signals. You didn’t want anyone thinking you over-confident, or a narcissist.

❈ Instead, you were seen as a quiet, obedient MLA member, who preferred lone training, but worried incessantly about fighting. After all, that meant interacting with people - something you absolutely did not support.

❈ As such, you'd only spoken with Geten two or three times, in passing. Yet, he was always on your mind. You wanted to extinguish your feelings so, so badly! He was a million times better than you - way out of your league! It was a wonder why you'd ever fallen in the first place. What was the point, when all you'd get was heartbreak?

❈ You were convinced that's all you'd ever get.

❈ But your heart just couldn’t let go.

❈ 3/4 of your word count were probably apologies, so you wouldn’t be surprised if he found you strange.

❈ Surely he wouldn’t want such a shy, soft-spoken partner?

❈ …But you just couldn’t let him go. If you never even tried to court him, he'd find someone else, and it'd destroy you! He was always on your mind, even when he shouldn’t be - you fawned over him, like a desperate fan. He was so strong, so pretty…a violent little cutie. From your rose-tinted perspective, he had no faults.

❈ That fiery attitude might disenchant the average admirer, but at this point, you were a veteran, in way too deep. What you felt…it was infinitely stronger than a crush. It never wavered…never faded.

❈ You had journals full of phrases like "I wish, with the might of all the stars, that you would look at me the way I look at you.", and short pieces proclaiming your love for him. And to really cement this point, you had his name written in hearts. Many hearts. Spanning like,, an entire journal.

❈ You almost worshipped him, as though he were a god, or an entire religion.

❈ …It wasn’t easy, being in love. You were resolved to tell him, but you couldn’t do that in a public area. You'd have to drag him somewhere more private. The thought made you flush. What if he grew suspicious? Or assumed you wanted to hurt him?? Nothing could've been further from the truth. But since you had trouble speaking, and your face would definitely be on fire…he'd be cautious, maybe even angry?

❈ Oh god, you did not want him to be angry! If that happened, you'd chicken out immediately. He'd have you running for the hills, getting the hell out of Deika City and never, ever showing your face there again. And in the worst case, the embarrassment and fear might force you out of Japan. You'd have to change your name, get a new social security number, find a new job and apartment…

❈ Why was it so difficult to confess?? You wanted to be so naturally eloquent with your words, so confident and clever, that he'd be compelled to swoon. You commanded greater mastery over the written word, but you needed to tell him in person. You needed him to hear, to feel the emotion behind them. You had to be taken seriously. You had to try.

❈ So try you did. You managed to catch him as he walked toward one of Deika's many training grounds. You were alone, save for the birds that chirped overhead. The frosty weather bit at your cheeks, but you couldn’t be deterred. Not anymore. It was now or never.

❈ You had the stage, and his full attention. It was so nerve-wracking!

❈ "Geten…! Um, I-I've really admired - uh, liked!...Loved! Yeah…um, I've…for a while now, a-and…I wanted to tell you…! So, uh…if it  i-isn't too much trouble, um…p-please go out with me!"

❈ You stood with a lowered head, uncomfortably basking in the silence that followed. You couldn’t meet his eyes, for fear of seeing an emotion you knew you wouldn’t be able to bear.

❈ "…Go out? Where would we go?"

❈ You looked up, mouth hanging open in shock. A light blush sat atop his cheeks…so he'd understood your feelings, at least.

❈ "U-Uh…it means…um…" Your voice got progressively quieter, as you realised that you had to teach him what a relationship actually was.

❈ "Speak up. You're hard to hear." He huffed, though he didn’t seem angry.

❈ Okay, so I don't have to move countries.

❈ "It's, um…d-d-dating…? It's m-more than friends, like uh…r-romantic…holding hands and k-k-kissing and stuff…!"

❈ He blushed harder, and despite his efforts to hide it under the fur of his Parka, you saw it. There was another round of silence, like he was considering the pros and cons of 'dating' you.

❈ Finally, he reached a decision.

❈ "I guess…I'll 'go out' with you."

& Relationship Headcanons: 

❈ This boy doesn't know a ton about love, so you're gonna have to teach him what it means to: 1) have a partner, and 2) show affection toward said partner. He's never been in a position quite like this before, so he's definitely a slow-starter.

❈ Make no mistake, though - he does love you. And due to both his ideology and strength, he's fiercely loyal and protective. If you have a 'weak' Meta Ability, he'll be a little disappointed (for the future generation, y'know?), but it just means he has to shield you from any and all dangers. It's a responsibility he cherishes. He's never really had to look out for anyone but himself, so it's a nice change of pace.

❈ Initially, he isn't sure about the whole 'dating' and 'lovers' thing. You're still incredibly shy, and whenever he tries to hold your hand, you go bright red and shuffle your feet awkwardly. He'll take that the wrong way.

❈ It takes many, many weeks for you to gather up the courage to ask for a kiss. Geten obliges almost instantly, but hesitates when he sees you shaking.

❈ It's more from excitement than embarrassment, but he doesn't know that.

❈ Of course you're excited! You're finally, finally gonna kiss the boy you love. But you're also nervous. It's your first kiss, after all. You want it to be perfect, but you're scared you're gonna mess up. And if you do, you're worried he'll hate you. If you mess up, you ruin the experience for two people.

❈ So you make 10000% sure he's okay with it, and you make him swear on his life that he won't be mad at you.

❈ He's of the opinion that you can always try again, but in your mind, it's a life or death scenario.

❈ If you take too long, over-think (no doubt you will) or start to falter, he'll just crash your lips together, albeit sloppily. He doesn't care about gentle or rough, messy or clean…as long as you're connected. He'll place one hand on your waist, and pin you to the wall. For someone so inexperienced, his movements gradually get more professional.

❈ In reality, he's researching this for you

❈ You'll snuggle up to Geten during the summer months, because despite his inability to create ice, his body temperature is still quite low.

❈ You get to see him without the Parka. No-one gets to see him without the Parka. Consider yourself a lucky, lucky bastard.

❈ Your shyness won't disappear, but around Geten, you definitely become more composed. After a few months, or even a year, that is. In the beginning, you're nothing but a nervous, stuttering wreck, who can't stand beside him for more than ten seconds without melting.

❈ Oh, you might want those plane tickets after all, because he's gonna find your journals eventually (when he's absolutely head-over-heals in love with you). Don't worry though, he'll think they're cute, and a testament to how amazing you are as a partner.

❈ Honestly, your heart holds so much value to him. He'll never, ever let you give it to someone else. He's whipped - completely, totally…and he isn't afraid to admit it!

❈ Once the PLF is formed, he'll seek you out to join the Violet Regiment (but be in the same room as Dabi, and blood will be shed).

❈ Everyone headcanons him as Geten's biggest romantic rival, and I'm not here to argue with that

❈ He's bad with words, so he'll rely on actions! Just don't expect any PDA (unless he's jealous)!! <3

[flightfoot]

Scarlet Fever analysis 3 - Luka

AO3

Note: This analysis contains spoilers for all of Scarlet Fever by @chronicallylatetotheparty. I advise you read that first if you don’t want to get spoiled.

------

I was really surprised when I reread Scarlet Fever and realized that Luka actually has a pretty compelling character arc playing out in the background - or at least the potential for one, though it’s hindered by only having snippets of his POV, which limits how much the reader can get in his head and see exactly how his thoughts and opinions change with the events of the book.

First of all, having him fall victim to the dust was a genius move. (The dust in general was, really). One of the issues with Luka canonically is how little he expresses negative emotions, even when it would make sense to feel upset, sad, or angry. By coating him with Princess Justice’s dust Loganlight gave an excuse for why Luka would show more emotion, be more free with what he really thought without negating his prior characterization in canon.

He starts out shocked and upset that Marinette of all people got akumatized, wanting desperately to know what could have gotten her so upset that she couldn’t fend off an akuma.

"He didn't tell me," Luka corrected, staring with watery eyes at the Guardian. "Marinette did. I don't know who you are but apparently you're in charge. So, tell me what happened that would make Marinette of all people fall victim to Papillon's akuma!" He barely restrained himself from shouting. (Chapter 6)

Adrien volunteers the reason, at least as he sees it.

"I thought if she didn't antagonize Lila she'd be fine. Th-that Marinette would be safe. I-I thought... that if you didn't draw attention to yourself... They wouldn't- They wouldn't-" He couldn't say anything he didn't think was true. It bubbled up from where he'd pushed it down. "They wouldn't hurt you!" he finished in a rush. "I thought Lila was like Father... If I don't disappoint him... he doesn't punish me... If Marinette didn't... I thought she'd be safe. I thought Marinette would be safe. I d-didn't want Lila to come after Marinette if she was akumatized. I... I told h-her not to s-say anything..." (Chapter 6)

Adrien’s actions make a lot of sense, considering the angle he’s approaching from, especially since he didn’t know that Lila had threatened Marinette before this. But he still feels absolutely TERRIBLE about what happened, since well… Marinette ended up getting hurt.

Luka’s furious and actually makes to punch Adrien, though others do intervene and he thinks better of it.

Here, he thinks the worst of Adrien that he ever has. He liked Adrien before, even thought of him as a friend (albeit not a particularly close one), but now? Right now he’s thinking of him as being a coward who through his actions got Marinette hurt.

Which is an understandable perspective, but not really a fair one. Especially since Adrien explained why he did what he did. But while Luka has been told why Adrien gave the advice he did, he doesn’t truly UNDERSTAND it - not yet.

The conversation he has with Kagami after Adrien leaves the room is particularly important, as it’s the start of his change in perspective.

Luka kept silent as Kagami kept her back to him. He needed to control himself but his rage flared up and... "I thought Marinette was your friend?"

"She is," Kagami confirmed. She felt her emotions surge forth despite her efforts and wondered if this was another effect of the dust. "So is Adrien."

"He hurt her!" Luka snapped.

"No, Lila did," Kagami corrected.

"How can you defend him?" He asked.

"How can you condemn him?" She countered.

"Just because he didn't have the guts to talk back to his old man-"

"I envy the people who have never been afraid of disagreeing with their parent."

"Everyone fights."

"Yes." Kagami hissed. "But not everyone is afraid of being placed under house arrest for voicing the wrong opinion. Not everyone worries the next less-than-perfect grade will result in their limited freedom being restricted! Not everyone needs an appointment to have a conversation with their own-" She cut herself off and took deep breaths to calm herself. (Chapter 6)

Luka’s still thinking of this as if HE was in the position Adrien was. If he told Anarka off, it’s doubtful that anything bad would happen to either himself or anyone he cared about as a consequence. If Luka’d been the one giving that advice, his reasoning would had to have been different because he doesn’t have to fear punishment the way Adrien does, and in his mind standing up to a parent, fighting with a parent, isn’t that big a deal, because for Luka it isn’t.

But Kagami takes the first step in breaking him out of that perspective, in opening his eyes to the fact that a lot of people, including herself and Adrien, don’t have such understanding parents, to check his privilege in that regard.

When Luka and Adrien meet up after they’ve both had chances to calm down, Luka’s still upset, but he’s calmer.

Adrien cleared his throat. "I... When Lila came back to school. I asked her to stop lying. She was akumatized immediately and the first thing she did was go after me. I didn't want the same thing to happen to Marinette... That's why I told her not to say anything." He turned his gaze to Sabine. "I was trying... to protect her the best way I knew how."

"You still could've said something to your friends," Luka muttered before he could restrain himself.

"Yes, thank you, Luka. I hadn't thought of that. Not like I've been beating myself up about it or anything," he snapped. (Chapter 6)

Luka has a point. It IS possible that this might’ve been avoided if Adrien had quietly talked to his friends about the Lila situation. Though they might not have been persuaded then either, not without firmer evidence to support his conviction that Lila was out-and-out lying. And that was the only thing he knew she was doing wrong; just that she was being untruthful, not that she was doing anything particularly malicious (not that he could say without sounding like he was blaming someone for getting akumatized at any rate).

In any case, they bury the hatchet for now and concentrate on solving the problem at hand: restoring Marinette back to her old self.

Their plans are thrown for a loop though when Gorizilla attacks, leading to a similar situation as the first time he attacked, with Adrien falling to the ground, unable to transform for fear of his identity being outed.

Adrien tumbled through the air, approaching the ground at breakneck speed. He resisted the urge to call for his transformation where the akumatized could see him. The unyielding concrete raced closer and-

A cyan blur caught Adrien before he hit the pavement. He quickly wrapped his arms around his rescuer. "... Please tell me you didn't use Second Chance?"

Viperion merely gripped him tighter.

Adrien swallowed. "Oh... I really hate dying."

Viperion landed on a rooftop and set Adrien down behind a chimney. "... Then why do you keep trading yourself for Ladybug?"

Adrien wasn't sure why the question irritated him so much. "I don't 'trade myself' for Ladybug. I 'trade myself' for Paris." (Chapter 7)

I really wish we had Luka’s perspective here, especially with him being the only person who experienced the earlier timeline before the Second Chance, the one where Adrien rammed into the sidewalk.

Luka’d just chastised him for supposedly being a coward, for not doing more for Marinette… and then almost immediately afterwards witnessed him die brutally in order to keep his secret, even though he had a chance to save himself, even though he was terrified. It serves as a stark reminder that NO, Adrien is definitely NOT a coward.

Side note: Luka really needs therapy after seeing that. That should really be mandatory for Snake users in general.

The bit about Adrien being annoyed with Luka saying he trades himself for Ladybug was a nice insight as well. Luka keeps on thinking of everything in terms of what Adrien can do for Marinette, for Ladybug - and to be fair Adrien DOES care about her a lot.

But he’s also a hero in his own right, and not everything he does is solely motivated by her. Nor does he only have value because of what he can do for Ladybug; as Chat Noir, one of his roles may be to protect her at all costs, but that doesn’t make him any less a Hero of Paris than Ladybug is.

I think this is another important perspective check for Luka. I mean, he asked Adrien why he keeps trading himself for Ladybug if he hates dying so much. It seems like he wasn’t really thinking about it in terms of it being a necessary thing that Chat does, but was thinking of it as more as just a duty, one that he wouldn’t be troubled by nor that deserves a second thought.

Which isn’t too different from earlier, with how Luka was thinking almost entirely in terms of the ultimate outcome of Lila’s efforts against Marinette, blaming Adrien without really thinking about what HE was going through.

But after seeing Adrien plummet to the ground and die, after holding him in his arms and seeing and hearing how Adrien’s scared of the prospect yet will do so willingly anyway, Luka would recalibrate his worldview I think.

Before he was just thinking of Adrien as existing for Marinette’s sake, was frustrated when he was afraid of putting himself in danger.

Now he seems to truly realize the kind of pain and suffering he goes through, puts himself through, and that it’s not something to just write off as Chat being a sacrifice, that… that he’s a person, a KID who’s scared and does it anyway.

That he needs to put himself in Adrien’s head more, to think about his emotional state, that he’s had it just as rough, even rougher, than Marinette has.

And then Luka finds out who Adrien’s father - the man he’d initially castigated Adrien for being afraid to go up against, who’d been the reason why Adrien thought it would be safer for Marinette to leave Lila alone rather than to go after her, because that’s how he’s survived living with his father - he finds out who he REALLY is.

That he’s more of a threat, a danger, than he’d ever imagined - that he was in fact the ultimate CAUSE of Marinette being akumatized, which was the event that caused him to be so pissed at Adrien in the first place.

Now Luka doesn’t actually get to react that much to the revelation - everyone else in the room, from Sabine to Nino to Kagami to Adrien, have closer ties to Adrien and more insight into just how horrible this revelation makes Gabriel, than he does.

But any conception that Adrien is in any way a coward or unreasonable for keeping his head down around his father? For fearing him, and carrying that fear, those survival mechanisms to other, at least vaguely similar situations? Would be gone now. It’s fortunate that Adrien’s managed as well as he has, with the situation he’s in.

And just to twist the screws, Viperion gets a taste of Princess Justice’s whip later on, forcing him to FEEL just what Adrien (along with many others) were feeling, as if he needed anything more to cement that Adrien’s feeling were valid, that they MATTERED.

Pain!

So much pain Viperion fell to his knees.

Despair sapped the conviction from his heart. Jealousy clouded his reason. Shame burned him!

Luka curled into a ball.

Not good enough! The emotions screeched. Never good enough!

A torrent of confusion, heartbreak and longing came from Marinette. Concern for him, suffocating and pervasive, rose from Juleka and his maman. Disappointment and anger, Kagami's, cut like her blade. Self-deprecation, self-doubt, self-loathing roared over the others from Adrien.

How does he stand it!?

Love and admiration and joy also surged forth with the waves of their feeling.

But they gave Luka no reprieve; merely added to the chaos of so many people weighing down on him.

Viperion clutched his head as the foreign sensations flooded him. (Chapter 11)

On top of feeling what Adrien’s going through, he later found out what had happened after he was incapacitated: that even though Adrien was struck with the whip too, even though Adrien’s got so much emotional baggage, so much trauma already - heck, maybe even BECAUSE he’s been through so much trauma that he’s used to it - Adrien STILL fights through it, defeating his father and saving his partner.

Luka ends up giving an acknowledgement of his misjudgement of Adrien in the understatement of the century:

"... My bro's really good at seeing the best in other people." It's himself Adrien has trouble with. "But hey, if I have to remind him how awesome he is every now and then that's cool." Nino shrugged with his arms. Helping out his bro wasn't a big deal.

"He's... more complicated than I thought." Luka felt embarrassment color his cheeks. (Chapter 15)

More privately he admitted that how he’d acted with Adrien right after finding out about Marinette’s akumatization was wrong.

Luka tried not to look at Marinette's hurt expression. Focusing instead on the approving look Kagami gave him... When did Kagami's opinion become important to him? Probably when she pointed out you were being a jerk. (Chapter 15)

I also appreciated a few smaller snippets of Luka’s character that slipped in, like Luka centering himself after he got upset with Adrien near the beginning, as if he’d had to do that many times before and was used to having to get himself under control (though usually doing that wasn’t so hard, since he wasn’t usually under the effects of an akuma), or in the last chapter, when he forces himself to think about what’s best for HIM, rather than what he thinks other people want - something that he’s evidently not used to.

Luka bit his lip, fingers itching for strings to play. Did he want this? Helping out a few times was different than a full time commitment. He looked at Marinette. Even the best of them could be overwhelmed.

He shook his head, attempting to clear it. Marinette said they could think on it. Did he want to do this for himself or for Marinette? That's what he needed to know. "Let me get back to you."

Spotting Kagami's elbow coming for his ribs Luka moved out of range. "It's a lot to process! I, um, need to decide for me." (Chapter 15)

I’m wondering whether this plays into how he seemed to think of Adrien as just existing as Marinette’s support before, without considering Adrien’s own mindset or feelings, because that’s the role that Luka usually occupies - a mindset that Kagami’s trying to help him to break out of.

Luka’s worldview seems to have expanded and turned on its head many times over the course of the story, and I just think it’s an impressive little character arc with a lot of potential, even with it being a fairly minor plotline running in the background.

[amandaoftherosemire]

A Lost Hour

Fandom: Marvel Avengers AU

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff X Reader

Characters: Natasha Romanoff, Steve Rogers

Author: @amandaoftherosemire​

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 2,807

Format: One-shot

Warning: Language, fluff, implied smut

Summary: On a mission alone with Natasha Romanoff, you try to keep from annoying her as you hide how much you adore her.

A/N: Written for @buckysforeverprincess’ Hop Into Spring 3K Challenge. Congratulations on 3000, darling!! You’re amazing and you deserve all the love and adoration! My prompt was “Don’t forget daylight savings.” Writing reader inserts is like exercising my brain (second person is not second nature, that’s for damn sure) because I like to make them as neutral as I can. Except, since I’m female, I tend to write from that perspective, which means that all of my reader inserts have been fem!reader. This time, I wanted to stretch my brain in a new direction, so I wrote as neutral as possible, including gender. Please feel free to let me know what you think, including ways I failed. I’m always trying to do better and learn more, so I’m absolutely open to criticism.

A Lost Hour

Natasha watched you out of her peripheral vision from across the motel room. You were standing at the other queen bed unpacking, laying out everything you’d need for the mission the next day, your movements brisk, economical, and lethally efficient for all you were humming what sounded like ‘Hollaback Girl’. Nat appreciated that when it came to the work, you were a silent, stone-cold professional. She would put you at her back any day of the week, her highest compliment.

That said, when you weren’t actively on a mission, you never seemed to stop making noise. If you weren’t talking, and somehow you never ran out of things to talk about, you were humming, singing, muttering, laughing, or just making weird noises with your mouth. If she was the sort who gave in to such things, you could have her literally climbing the walls like the spider for which she was named.

To be fair, it wasn’t that the noises were in reality all that irritating. No one else seemed to notice, for instance. If she was being honest, she wouldn't classify the sounds you made as irritating at all, really. What drove her crazy was that they made it impossible for Natasha to ignore you, though she'd never had that problem before.

She couldn’t quite put her finger on what made you so compelling to her. It wasn’t your looks, though she thought you incredibly attractive. That would never have been enough to capture her attention on its own, however. She’d used her own for both good and evil often enough to know how little beauty truly counted. The fair of face couldn’t catch her eye.

Though she most often pretended to ignore you, sometimes she put on that she found you annoying in order to insist that you be quiet. As a matter of fact, she found your voice, the sounds you made, too appealing. She had to concentrate to tune you out, her ear seeming to naturally tune itself to the timbre of your voice.

She also found your little rants funny, though she groaned as loudly as anyone when you started in on one. You had any number of random little pet peeves and there was no way to know when someone might inadvertently step into one in the course of normal conversation. When you got going, however, was when she found it most difficult to resist the urge to kiss that chattering mouth. Lately, it had only gotten worse.

Because though she could see that you found her physically attractive, she was almost certain you didn't really like her. She was painfully attuned to the tone of your voice and could hear it was often a touch colder when you spoke to her than when you spoke to any other member of the team. You were warm and pleasant with everyone, so it wasn't as though you were mean or rude even then; only Natasha would ever notice the difference.

She refused to let it bother her, but it made it easy to pretend she didn't like you right back.

Once she'd finished the double-check that she had what she needed for the mission in the morning, she repacked everything as it had gone in except for her night clothes and her toiletries bag. You had long since moved on to flipping through the channels, your preparations for the mission less meticulous than hers, though you were hardly sloppy or haphazard. You were still humming under your breath, but you were unusually quiet and she was having a hard time placing the melody.

You were watching Natasha out of the corner of your eye, trying to keep the humming to a minimum. You knew it drove her crazy and you were trying not to irritate her on this mission. You'd been half in love with her almost since you met her. You hated that you annoyed her, but you also couldn't change who you were, so you tried to stay as quiet as possible when she was around.

You'd hotly anticipated and deeply dreaded this mission. Any time you spent with Natasha was nerve-wracking, but an overnight mission, just the two of you sharing a motel room seemed like a recipe for disaster. Disaster for you, at least. You doubted Natasha would even notice you unless you irritated her by talking or humming too much, or if you fucked up your part of the plan.

You, on the other hand, were going to spend the next 24 hours on pins and needles, trying not to give away how absolutely magnificent you thought she was. Sometimes you went too far in the opposite direction, but it was better than her knowing you spent most of your time in her presence internally sighing dreamily

Obviously, she was beautiful. You had eyes; you could see she was gorgeous. You were no more immune to her appeal than the next person. That said, it was her strength that you found most captivating. In addition, you respected her competence and efficiency and you had a nice healthy fear of her lethality. You weren't frightened of her, but like a razor-sharp blade, you didn't take her bite lightly. Her capacity for loyalty had surprised you, but only until you got to know her. Her humor charmed you, made you wish you didn't annoy her because you found her hilarious.

Of all the things about her that made you wish you could at least be friends, however, it was the sweetness laying close to her bones. She hid it well but, where she cared, she was kind and deeply loving in her own quiet way. On more than one occasion, you'd had to start ranting about something stupid to cover for the puppy-dog-eyes you'd been giving her.

When she settled onto her bed with her tablet and a bottle of water, you spoke softly. "Do you want to pick?" you asked as you offered her the remote. "If you leave it up to me, I'll end up watching the crokinole championships on ESPN Twelve like a lunatic."

Natasha frowned a little and lifted puzzled eyes to yours. "What in the world is crokinole?"

You laughed and flipped back to the channel airing the niche game's championship. "Fuck if I know," you replied and settled back against the pillows with a grin, "but in about twenty minutes I bet I'm going to have a whole lot of opinions on technique and strategy."

A half an hour later, both you and Natasha were watching the classic dexterity game with rapt attention, discussing the ongoing bracket as though you'd been following the game for years. You'd looked up the rules on your phone, not that you really needed to. The point of the game was absolutely clear once you'd watched for even just a few minutes, but the Wikipedia page clarified some scoring questions the two of you had.

"Oops, he left a hanger," you were saying as Natasha's phone rang, Steve's number lighting up the screen. You snickered when you saw the picture she'd used for him; it was some promotional shot from the 40s when he was being used to sell war bonds and he had the dumbest cheesy grin on his face.

You loved that she teased Steve in this way, taking potshots at the public persona, the piece of propaganda rather than the private man or the real symbolism of the shield. Steve was one of those she cared about; you always enjoyed watching their dynamic at play.

“If he can pick up the twenty and knock the other guy’s puck into the gutter, I think he’s won it,” she replied as she swiped the screen. She’d gotten as into the game as you had, the two of you finally bonding a little. She didn't notice because she was answering the phone, but you were caught in full-blown puppy-dog-eyes mode.

You sat in silence, watching her smirk at Steve and assure him that she had things well in hand while you grinned at her like exactly what you were, a moron with a desperate crush.

“You’re on speaker if you’ve got anything to tell us both,” Natasha turned to focus on you as she hit the button on the screen. Her eyes met yours, warm and full of fun, then rounded ever so slightly in surprise at the lovesick smile on your face. For the first time, she wasn’t seeing any coolness or reserve in your eyes and she wanted it to never stop. She smiled timidly back at you.

“Just stay safe, watch each other’s backs, and don’t forget about daylight savings.” Steve’s voice snapped you out of it, made you aware you were being stupidly obvious in the way you were staring at Natasha. The smile on her face was almost shy and sweet and was making your heart gallop like a thoroughbred. You latched on to the last thing Steve said like a lifeline.

“Ugh! I hate daylight savings!” You fell backward onto the bed with a groan of annoyance, partly to be dramatic, but mostly to stop looking at Natasha. “Especially Spring forward. You know the whole thing’s pointless, right? It doesn’t even do what it’s supposed to, and some think it’s actively detrimental. But no, we keep doing it because we’re stup—"

“I’m on it, Cap,” Natasha cut you off with a good-natured chuckle as she got up to sit next to you on your bed. She patted your knee affectionately as she finished the phone call and hung up. You propped yourself up on your elbows and watched her, nervous but oddly excited.

Natasha had never been this friendly before.

“I thought you didn’t like me,” she said quietly. This evening with you, learning the intricacies of a game neither of you had heard of before, had seduced her in ways she’d never thought to expect, let alone guard against. The uncomplicated adoration she’d seen on your face as you looked at her gave her the confidence to speak bluntly.

“No!" you cried, distressed that you'd made her think so when you thought so highly of her. You gave her a sheepish smile and ducked your head. "I know I can be annoying,” you said, wrinkling your nose. “I don’t want to irritate you by scampering after you.”

Her mouth curved and her eyelids lowered in an expression both earthy and ethereal. Your heart skipped and you knew you were in way over your head. “You’re not irritating or annoying,” she said. When doubt flickered across your face, she felt a pang of remorse. “You’re distracting,” she murmured.

“Distracting?" You frowned a little, not sure if that was a compliment or not. "Is that good or bad?” you asked, a little breathless. The look on her face was making your heart race.

“Well," she said softly, and leaned in ever so slightly. You were painfully aware of every movement she made, and your breath caught in response. "That depends." You had seen her flirt for work; this was nothing like that. Her eyes were direct, her body language straightforward, and you would swear that she was trying to be as honest as she could.

"On?" you prompted and sat up. You and she were face to face now, but neither of you moved, though you were both practically holding your breath in anticipation.

The corner of her mouth lifted in the slightest of smiles, your eyes following the movement with meticulous care as you waited for her next words with a heart pounding in desperate hope. "On if I'm trying to ignore you," she replied, her smile spreading and her eyes turning surprisingly shy. "I tend to ignore that which I don't think I can have. Or whom."

Her eyes seemed to sear into yours, the dreamy green going sharp as jade. You shifted forward a fraction of an inch, your hand twitching towards hers before you stopped it, terrified to overstep and fuck up this exhilarating conversation. "And I don't know how to shut up, especially when I'm nervous."

Natasha wasn't smiling now, but you had absolutely no idea what she was thinking, her expression inscrutable. "I make you nervous?"

You gave a quick, disbelieving laugh. "Have you met you?" You didn't know why, because she hadn't moved, but you started to feel like she was leaning away from you. You kept talking, because you were terrified you were fucking this up, and you always talked too much when freaked out. "Between your strength and skill, oof, and your mind, you'd be the most intimidating woman on the planet. Add in the humor on top of everything else and you're spectacular. I'm astonished whenever I manage not to babble."

By the time you managed to shut yourself up, she was smiling again. You didn't know it, but she had thought you were going to start yammering on about her physical appearance and nothing was more likely to make her dismiss someone as not worth her time. Marks underestimated her because of her looks; she didn't waste her real self on marks. Instead, you were charming her with your chattering about how intimidating you found her, not her face. "So, you're telling me I don't need to ignore you."

"Not if you don't want to," you said, making her smile wider with your earnestness. You went on, shy yourself this time. "And if you don't mind if I babble."

Wasn't this a pleasant surprise? she thought. The discovery that you found her as appealing as she found you was the best thing she'd learned in a while. She decided to live a little and tell you the whole truth. "When you babble, it makes me want to kiss you."

Your eyes popped open and your mouth spread in a wide smile. You didn't know what had led to your good fortune, but you weren't going to question it. You licked your lips and your heart kicked when her eyes followed the movement. "Even when I babble about something stupid, like daylight savings?" you asked, audibly breathless.

She smirked a little. This time it was she who eased forward a little, causing you to sway toward her without thinking. She was close enough now that you could see the flecks of gold in her eyes and her mouth was close enough that you imagined you could feel her breath on your skin. That tempting mouth curved in amusement. "Especially when you babble about something stupid like daylight savings.”

"People think it's for farmers," you immediately launched into anything you could remember about why daylight savings sucks and is stupid, but you were barely thinking about the words coming out of your mouth, "but that doesn't make sense in a modern era with electric ligh--"

Natasha laughed, which had you slowing down, delighted to make her laugh out loud for the first time. She'd tell you later that she laughed internally at the things you said all the time. For now, you were simply enthralled at the sound of her laugh when you inspired it.

You didn't stop talking, however, until she took your face in her hands and stopped your words with a soft, almost tentative kiss. Slowly, gently, you slid your arms around her, pulling her close as she melted against you. She slid her arms around you in turn, enchanted by the soft generosity she found in your mouth, in your arms.

A long time later, she pulled away reluctantly, only to sink back in with a chuckle at the misty-eyed look of awed adoration you gave her. Silent and smiling, you'd been struck speechless and so opted to let her have her way, happy to follow where she led.

The next morning at 5:00 AM, according to the phone buzzing next to the bed, and 4:00 AM according to your body, Natasha leaned across you to turn off the alarm. When it was quiet in the impersonal dark of the motel room once more, she snuggled back down under the covers, her arm sliding around your waist as she rested her head on your shoulder. You smiled at the ceiling, delighted by the sunset cloud currently tickling your nose.

"You're right. I hate daylight savings," she murmured.

"See!" you whispered hotly as you cuddled close, delirious at the feel of her satin skin sliding against yours and incensed that you were going to have to give it up soon. "If not for daylight savings I’d get to spend another hour in bed with you. It's fucking stupid." That was as far as you got before Nat was rising over you in the dark to press her mouth against yours again.

For the first time in either of your careers, you nearly missed a mission because of daylight savings.

The End

Permanent Taglist:

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[darkpoisonouslove]

“Show the World (Inside of You)”

Summary: Griffin never wanted to be a model but in the name of her dreams she's willing to deal not only with fashion but also with the person who understands it. However, Valtor also seems to understand her, as impossible as that seemed at first, and she has to ask herself if he's still simply the designer of her nightmare or he could help her create the fairytale she'd always dreamed of for herself. Contains mildly nsfw elements.

This was not supposed to happen, then it was supposed to be short, and then I just gave up on confining it in any way since the idea ran away from me and I decided to catch up with it and run with it instead of trying to stop it. I really loved it so I had to write it all out. I hope you'll like it too. :)

She never wanted this.

She never tried to starve herself so that she could be thin enough to be a model. She simply forgot to eat most of the time driven by her passion to explore that rarely let her sit still and always had her mind occupied with a question getting the answer to which would prove to be a challenge. She was running on excitement which was why that job was proving to be a bitch.

She never tried to grow her hair long to impress anyone. She just loved the feel of the purple tresses between her fingers and how her hair looked in the voluptuous braid her mother would arrange it in, especially when she’d add flowers from their own garden to adorn it. The tons of hair products they kept dumping on her before every fashion show left her itching to scrub her scalp off long before the show was over and spending hours in the shower after she was finally done, relief only flooding once every last touch of cosmetics had flown down the drain.

She never tried to make her posture elegant or graceful or demanding respect. She only refused to bend before the obstacles in her way and held her head high every time something tried to pull her off the path she’d chosen for herself. But no one decided her fate for her so she only had herself to blame for her current situation. Herself and her passion for the night sky. And Faragonda. Definitely Faragonda.

Her friend had convinced her of the impossible by making her agree to work as a model but she was only doing it for her dreams. She had the qualities to make it in the fashion world and also had the intelligence to see that if she went through that hell, she could get enough funds to conduct her own independent research in the field of astronomy. And she had a friend who had the connections to get her an interview for a position that would pay enough to make it worth all that she had to go through. Namely, her new boss.

“How about dinner? Tonight?” Valtor's smugness stuck to her like his dress on her figure after he’d interrogated her thoroughly about her reasons to work for him as a model and she’d told him the truth. She didn’t want him thinking she enjoyed being there or had any interest into doing anything other than the basics her job required of her. He held her and her dreams in the palm of his hand and he fed off the certainty she’d have no choice but to accept. He hadn’t had the chance to learn the most basic thing about her yet even if it had been a few months since the job interview. But she’d teach him the hard way if he was so adamant to get burned.

“No,” Griffin caught his eyes in the mirror to send him to hell. She wouldn’t debase herself and sleep with him just because she needed the money. She had a dream, yes, but she also had self-respect she wouldn’t trade that just to keep a job she hadn’t even wanted in the first place.

Valtor laughed, making her turn to him to have a better angle for her glare. “To celebrate the success of the fashion show, Griffin,” he softly answered the accusation she’d thrown his way. Yet, the fact that he didn’t seem offended was a clear sign that his intentions hadn’t been quite as innocent as he was trying to make them out to be. “Some of the other girls are coming,” he only pulled a scoff from her with his inability to keep up if he thought that would compel her to go. “I always treat my models to a dinner after a job well done. Those that want to come, of course,” he explained, still not affected by her skepticism or her judgment and the gesture did sound genuine, and her arms were dropping at her sides now that she didn’t need the barrier between them.

“The critiques still haven’t come in,” Griffin teased.

It was the truth. The models hadn’t even gone out on the catwalk yet and she could still see the smirk taking over his lips when she hadn’t been blinded by a flashlight sealing her frame in a photograph to have it all over the media. It made her grateful she was all wrapped in his creations as they were the reason why people would look at her in the first place and mostly kept the focus off of her face.

“I don’t need people to announce my worth at me,” Valtor locked eyes with her for her to see the mirror was not the only thing in the room that she could see herself in. “You look beautiful and no one can deny that, Griffin,” the heat of his words was inside her, spreading towards her treacherous skin that was too white and would immediately give her away if she wasn’t covered in more makeup than she’d worn during the entirety of her life outside of work. And for once having her face painted like a canvas was an advantage that hid what lay underneath. She didn’t need him getting the wrong idea.

“Are you complimenting yourself or trying to get me into bed?” was what made its way through her blood red lips instead of the confession that he made the knot in her stomach loosen and the memories of getting bullied in school for how tall she was retreat far beneath the podium she strutted on with the heels he’d selected for her as if to help her up to his mindset of celebrating her height. She didn’t need to tell him because he knew. His eyes could be a mirror but hers were a window, letting all the light from inside spill out if you knew how to make them open up, and he'd found all her secret buttons even though she’d never told him. So perhaps he saw himself in her, too, in some way. “I still can’t make it to dinner,” she said before he’d had the chance to break through the glass and set off the alarm in her heart. She wasn’t sure she’d have anything to put out the fire with. “I have plans with a friend.” Yes, plans. She needed a plan for how to get away with killing Faragonda for getting the idea of working as a model into her head.

This wasn’t the place for her. It was too real and too fake at the same time and the confusion it wrapped her into managed to make her doubt her how well her brain was working and that she definitely didn’t appreciate. She didn’t know what to do, and she already had enough of being pulled on strings as they spun her around as they pleased while preparing her for yet another fashion show.

“Maybe some other time then,” Valtor let her free and she could thank him, but she couldn’t admit there was a problem. “It’s show time,” he slipped back on the mask she hated to help her relax with how easily the feeling came. She wasn’t getting dragged into something she couldn’t handle. She was getting dragged into something she hated but she’d come out of it with all of her strength at her disposal.

It was the thought that carrier her out onto the podium and it was the same thought that saw her walking into Valtor’s office some weeks later, all calm when he’d asked to talk to her.

She was more than ready for a fight if that was what he wanted. She wasn’t going to apologize for the scandal she’d made. They had no right to stalk her with cameras when she wasn’t at work and she’d let everyone who hadn’t gotten the memo know they’d have to respect her personal space.

“I need your opinion, Griffin,” Valtor only glanced at her, taking just enough time to acknowledge her before his focus returned on the sheet in front of him. The calm of his tone left her all puzzled amidst her expectation of a storm. It did leave one in her head and she had to hate him just for that.

“This isn’t about the paparazzi problem?” the corners of her mouth dropped after the question made it out as if to join her plummeting expectations that had been let down. She couldn’t understand the game he was playing. It had to be a game. He had to have an ulterior motive not to be angry at her after the stain on his company’s image she’d left. She doubted even the dog paintings on all the walls that he’d made himself as he’d told her were enough to calm him when he was raging no matter how much he claimed to love the animals. She’d seen him angry one time when he’d destroyed a person on the phone. She’d been sure there’d been just a heap of ash left on the other end of the line. There had to be something else behind his good will.

“Is there a problem there?” Valtor looked at her, still so relaxed that he had to be mocking her. “You had an opinion and you voiced it. You were rather polite about it, too, considering the situation.” He smiled at her, and everything was upside down. The floor was probably no longer under her feet but she didn’t dare look. She could fall. And he could catch her. She couldn’t be just another poor soul caught in his net. Not that she’d meant to have any knowledge on him as an individual but it was hard to miss his personal life when it was practically everywhere. It was beyond her how people didn’t tire of it, especially considering how wild it seemed. And it was beyond her how he didn’t tire of the constant invasion of his privacy.

“You’re not angry?” she probed carefully when she knew better than that. He could still bite her head off no matter how cautious she was. But she had to make things right, had to bring the ground back under her and not in the place of the sky. It would get in the way of her plans to observe it in the night. “About the damage to your company?” she clarified after the expectant look he gave her as if he didn't know damn well what she meant, as if he hadn't read it like the silence between them was a private language. He was just playing her to hear her admit her own guilt.

“Griffin, you clearly don’t read tabloids.” He had her there, just like she’d known he would. He was dangerous. “My company doesn’t get off the front pages. Saves a lot of money from advertising,” he joked before flashing her that pearly smile, the one that was like poison and had her heart beating frantically to get it out of her system but, instead, it only spread further in her veins. “I do love a woman with opinions,” he said as he got up from his chair, a predator ready to pounce. “It’s a thing that inspires and something I pick my models for.”

That she wouldn’t know. She hadn’t bothered to spend time with them, though maybe she should. If she could take his word for it and, despite how much she hated to admit it, so far he hadn’t given her a reason not to.

“Men usually only like their women strong-willed when they agree with them,” Griffin tilted her head, the interest in his reply not at all faked as he kept surprising her every time he opened his mouth in private. It was the pretense that fell over him like a cage for his free spirit that pushed her away but what did she know about the fight he had to lead? Perhaps it wasn’t a cage but a shield. A shield he laid down when she was around.

“I’m not like other men,” Valtor's gaze bore into hers for a moment as if that was enough to lay his touch on her inside. “I called you to have you look at this,” he picked up a sketch from his desk and strode over to her, his steps confident to match the belief she hadn't withheld from him.

“That’s to be determined,” Griffin muttered to tame his smugness to a bearable level as she took the sketch from him, her breath stopping as her eyes landed on it.

The dress looked stunning, the light blue–the shade of his eyes–starting at the hem slowly turning orange–golden–before it went into gentle pink, red, purple and finally black. All the colors of the sky before, during and after a sunset gathered in the skirt that was separated from the bodice with a purple ribbon in a very familiar shade. Right above started little gemstones arranged to make constellations. She could clearly spot Leo and Virgo since he’d taken the time to detail them precisely. And the sleeves were black veils, held to the wrists by two bangle bracelets – silver and gold. He’d captured the sky through himself and her and it looked... perfect.

“Do you like it?” Valtor had her head snapping up–and perhaps there was a protest stinging her heart that he’d made her tear her eyes off that masterpiece–her mouth already opening to let a sharp agreement come out in retribution for even wasting her energy on voicing something so obvious in her body language–her entire being had succumbed to the awe the sketch had gripped her with as she held it with almost trembling hands–but the look in his blue eyes suspended her in their ice, in its soft plea not to break it and his heart.

She closed her mouth, her lips pressing together as firmly as possible not to let out a sound the wave of which would shatter him but also subtly enough to conceal her battling the impulse to mock his request for her validation. Even if she’d acted without thinking. He’d asked for her opinion, had put himself on display in front of her like she was doing in front of the world to show off his models. He'd touched the stiffness clinging to her at those moments and he’d trusted her not to affect him with it now. She couldn’t tear that apart no matter the effort it would cost her.

“The tenth anniversary from the foundation of my company is coming up,” Valtor spoke again in her lack of reaction, his eyes going over the sketch as if to look it over one more time while she was stuck on the words coming out of his mouth.

She hadn’t known how old his fashion house was. She never would have assumed... even when she’d been convinced he was a professional. Somehow fashion wasn’t something lasting in her mind, wasn’t something important. Until she’d seen the trepidation he’d waited for her approval with. It seemed important now. It seemed like the most important thing to encourage him when she saw her reflection in his eyes once more, waiting for praise and support for her work that she’d never gotten. But she could at least give it to him.

“I’d like you to wear that dress at the celebratory fashion show I’m planning,” Valtor looked back at her and now it was hope that was in his eyes and they were the windows this time as he was letting her peek right into his soul.

Her mouth was falling open so she took the opportunity to force out the words to keep them both from exploding. “I will,” she was quick to reach and catch Valtor’s hand and the heat of his skin spread through every part of her being melting every last lump of ice people’s dismissal or animosity had hardened into on her muscles and nerves.

“Thank you,” Valtor squeezed her hand and she returned the gesture, completely consciously to give her understanding she didn't want to voice to hear it echo in the comfortably quiet room. “This is a very important occasion for me and so is the model,” he looked back to the sketch and compelled her to do the same and revel in the beauty he’d created again. “I’ve forgotten what it feels like...” he trailed off and Griffin let him find his words on his own, keeping still and doing her best to remain present and not get carried away in the depths of the dress he’d bring to life for her to wear, “to draw with passion, pure and unadulterated,” the words were quiet as if he didn’t want to boast with them and mess up the genuineness they were made of.

“What inspired you?” Griffin asked even though she knew the answer, even though she could throw a playful question about the new muse he’d found that he would normally leap at. But there was nothing normal in him at the moment, or at least it wasn’t the normal she was used to, though she’d love to change that.

“Looking at the world,” Valtor said and she could feel his gaze on her tugging at her heartstrings just like the smile was pulling at her lips and she wasn’t quick to pull her hand out of his.

Which was not to say that she was all that comfortable with his hands all over her a few weeks from then as he was fixing a dress that had never been meant for her to fit like it’d been tailored to her body. He’d kept running things by her, asking for her approval on fabrics and shades, and gems, and everything else – things she couldn’t even help him with since they were far from her area of expertise. And she did her best to fuel his enthusiasm instead of extinguish it with her lack of interest in his profession. She even found herself fascinated by some new things she learned now that she was at least intrigued by his work. But that urgent call for her to come to work had been a bit of a deal-breaker when she knew he knew she needed time to prepare herself mentally before she could go out there and pose like the flashlights and prying eyes didn't leave her fearing every next step amidst the earthquake shaking her inner world.

He’d attempted an apology but it hadn’t worked when it had been more of an explanation and he’d snapped at her to stay still while he was trying to make her presentable and wasn’t paying much attention to her emotional state that could have been better if he’d actually taken the time to do more than just throw the words in her face. But of course the fact that they stuck to her spine and kept her from moving was working in his favor so he had no reason to complain.

She’d been the one with the most similar body type to the model that had called in sick in the last possible moment–perhaps even later than that if Valtor’s hastiness both when he’d called her to demand her presence and as he was getting her prepared was reaching unprecedented levels–and just the thought they’d looked at her body’s proportions in detail made bile burn her throat like she'd swallowed a volcano waiting to errupt. Valtor’s hands running up and down her frame definitely weren’t helping. Especially with his agitation rubbing off on her instead of his usual understanding towards his employees.

“Are you done groping every part of me?” Griffin huffed once his hands left her only to be back in a few seconds like had a dozen times before leave him no closer to satisfaction with the result. She would've thought by now he’d have had his ploy fulfilled as he’d touched every part of her, pulling and tugging at the dress to smooth out creases she couldn’t see.

“You think I’m having fun with this, Griffin?” he asked, more offended than she'd ever heard him to sent her heart tearing itself in halves over jumping and sinking in her chest. “That I’m doing this because I want to?” he moved in front of her and the storm in his eyes made her bite her tongue to sever the scathing remark she had coming up right then and there. “I would’ve much preferred it if you weren’t here,” his words prickled all over her skin like sewing pins he'd forgotten in the dress, “that the dress was on the woman who was supposed to wear it and that this fashion show would go well,” he huffed, the exhaustion in the sound hitting her like a train off the rails when she could do nothing to help. The world he lived in was a mystery she couldn't solve but the fear that had taken over him was cutting her open along with her own to spill her blood over the fabric and ruin it for good.

“It will be fine,” Griffin threw her energy into the words instead of the hug she itched to give herself to protect herself from the negativity he was radiating. It would throw him into a nervous fit if she moved the dress even a hair outside of how he’d arranged it on her body to leave her more paralyzed than ever before. She'd had to perform magic to walk out of the dressing room. She couldn’t go out there thinking it would all fail. She hated it all when it was a success and finding out how much worse a failure would kick her in the ribs and push out all of her air was on her list of things to avoid at all costs.

“No, Griffin, it won’t be,” Valtor pronounced the words slowly as if that was the only way for her to understand them. But even that didn’t help when she couldn’t fathom what she was seeing. He wasn’t the man she knew with his fear of judgment. “The moment you go out there will be a disaster.” And that one was just painful. It gripped her throat to suffocate all cries without distinguishing whether they were for her or for him. It hurt to see him as this ball of nerves instead of the collected and arrogant fashion designer she knew. Especially when she was about to put herself out there and get judged along with his work. She needed his confidence but it was nowhere to be found to leave her muscles fighting the crippling terror in her instinct to run out of there with the dress and never return. His unwavering faith in the companionship of his talent and her determined pursuit of her dream was the only constant besides the nausea filling her stomach with heavy lead like it was a gun ready for firing before a show and she couldn’t lose that. She couldn’t lose his reassurance that she looked like a goddess as she wore his work because it was the only thing helping her face her personal nightmare that lay out there.

“Valtor...” She didn’t know what to say, how to ask him for... for whatever it was she couldn’t find in herself but had to. She couldn’t take from him when he had nothing to give but exasperation and doubts. And he was giving her plenty of that even if she didn’t want it. She could feel the insecurities in her mind gathering behind her eyes and pushing to break them apart and spill to the world all of her secrets, all of her ugliness and the parts that had to stay buried but wouldn’t when Valtor had just buried his confidence in both of them and she had trouble facing him, not to mention the world. She couldn’t go out like that. She’d break down.

“No, Griffin, you don’t get to cry,” Valtor's words weren’t harsh only to slap her that much harder. He wasn’t trying to be cruel to her, just to prepare her for what was to come. “You can never cry in this world,” he whispered as he cupped her cheek and she had to do her damnedest not to lean into the touch because it would be impossible to pull herself out of the warmth of it but she still had to go out on the catwalk without him to keep her heart at ease with the beauty his eyes reflected back at her. “Tears are never fashionable and they don’t go with makeup,” his thumb pressed into her cheek to remind her muscles smiles were a real thing that was expected of her before he let go, her skin so cold without his hand on it to protect her from the ice of the world. “Show time,” Valtor said and she nodded.

She pulled away from him and reached deep inside her to pull out her pride to wear along with his creation as she strengthened her back and squared her shoulders. She never bowed before a challenge and she wouldn’t start now that he’d spent so much time arranging the dress to fit just so to her frame that any movement that wasn’t accounted for would send it all to hell. And she held her head high even as the sound of her heels penetrated into her brain like the ticking of a countdown to an explosion.

There was one, flashes blinding her and fashion magazines and blogs filling with shots of every place where the dress didn’t sit right on her, critique snowing them under for the smallest of issues and not the overall composition. The other models that had all been successful were overshadowed by the failure of that one dress and her face was insignificant in the picture but she couldn’t help but feel like she’d played a part in that disaster with how stiff and rigid her posture had been as everything inside her had protested. She couldn’t hope that all of that had stayed unnoticed when every other part of him and her that had been put on display had been dissected closely. The devil did seem to be in the details.

That was where he’d buried himself ever since then, working without taking a break and for the first time it dawned on her that fashion and science weren’t that different as endless hours went into both of them, the people interested in them perfecting every aspect of their project until they were sick with exhaustion. He deserved to an award simply for making her find the similarity as it wasn’t easy to spot. At least it hadn’t been for her but now that she’d seen it, she couldn’t look past it.

She found him in his office as expected, hunched over one of the models for the anniversary show. At least no interest in that had been lost after the media-created fiasco from the last fashion show. Or at least so she’d been assured by the other girls who all turned out to be very friendly once she'd decided to come out of her intimidating bubble and join the conversation. She’d even found herself staying after she was done with work to interact with them and it had been a most pleasant surprise. The last thing she’d expected to find in the other models had been friendship but now that she'd looked closer, they did seem like a big family with the tips they gave each other and the small gestures of support she hadn’t noticed with her nose buried in her self-imposed superiority. Details indeed.

“Need some coffee?” Griffin asked to announce her presence he hadn't noticed even with her heels clicking through his office to take her to his desk. He’d really plunged himself into his work and she wouldn’t mind if she didn’t worry that he wasn’t doing it for himself, that he was trying to cater to those who’d been quick to shame him instantly, forgetting his accomplishments – and she had to wonder if perhaps that didn’t include his parents, too, who, after some digging, she’d learned had been less than supportive about his business and were still hoping he’d go back to the family company that was far more practical. In which case she’d have to remind him of all the success he’d had. With her at least. She was there for him as a friend when she’d been unable to stand him in the beginning. And she wasn’t easily swayed as he’d learned, too.

Valtor only glanced at her for a moment but it gave her enough time to see the gratitude in his eyes. “You’re saving my life,” he said once they were back on his work but there was no doubt hanging around her neck like a noose that the words were genuine. Which was what had her rage boiling over and spilling out of her heart where it had been simmering ever since that night he’d failed to comfort her when he’d had no comfort himself.

“What, no secretary?” Griffin raised a brow at him even though he wasn’t looking. He would be in a moment, once her words reached through to him. She wasn’t being fair to him and she knew it. Just because he was overworking himself didn’t mean he’d force his employees to do the same. He respected them for some inexplicable reason considering how big of an asshole he could be and she respected him for that. Which was why it was so frustrating to see him crouching over his desk and going over things that were perfect again and again to the only possible outcome of destroying them. All because everyone refused to show him mercy, including his own parents.

“You seem willing enough to fill her role,” Valtor quipped right back at her before freezing for a moment. His eyes left the paper in front of him to find her and that in itself was enough to touch her as he’d finally broken out of his mind prison. “I”m sorry,” Valtor said as he held her gaze this time. And it seemed to be important to him that she believed him.

She did. She’d seen enough of him now not to need convincing. “I’m sorry, too,” she said, using the opportunity that he was still looking at her to tell him what she wouldn’t. She couldn’t make herself put in words the dread that had filled her while everyone had picked at the dress that she’d worn instead of at her. The world had always been against her and for once it had turned in the other direction and it had been in order to hurt him when the dress simply hadn’t been meant for her body. And that wasn’t her fault; it was the industry that was flawed but... she didn’t have the same passion for his work that he did and it made her feel unworthy of wearing it. It made her feel like she’d let him down when she’d been looking for a way to escape while he’d been looking for a way to keep himself whole after the blow not only on his ego, but on his heart, too. He wouldn’t be hurting himself now with unhealthy amounts of work if he weren’t trying to avoid something worse.

“Don’t cross me out just yet, Griffin.” There was a bit of a rumble in his voice to let through the anger but behind that there was more. It sounded like a plea, like a sky that wanted worship even if all it could give was lightning and thunder, and not a drop of rain to keep the ground wet and fertile. It sounded like he was giving up on himself and he needed her to lift his spirits. But she’d never known how to do that. For anyone. The only one who’d stayed with her was Faragonda who managed to pick herself up even without her help and she couldn’t tell why she was still there with her when she knew how useless of a friend she was.

“I won’t if you promise not to drown your self-pity in coffee,” she went for a bargain. It was harsh of her but it was honest and that was all she could offer. She wasn’t good at comfort with her hands always so cold she couldn't stand to touch even herself but she sure as hell knew how to be blunt and Valtor had appreciated that in previous interactions to allowed their relationship to develop past disdain.

He chuckled, the sound running through her like a vibration she wasn’t afraid would shatter her as it was real and full of mirth that hadn’t been there before. “You think I can lose it even more if I go overboard with the coffee?” he reached to take the cup staring at it as if it was a secret serum to unlocking magical powers.

“I’m pretty convinced that’s not possible but let’s not find out,” Griffin crossed her arms but still gave an amused smile when he looked at her like he was considering his options. It made her roll her eyes but it was still good to see him get out of his head for a bit. And it was even better when she knew she was the reason why he’d managed. Maybe she wasn’t that bad at comforting him and that information was oddly warming, especially in contrast with the chill that still ran through her every time the last fashion show flashed in her mind but for the first time it didn’t show up. So maybe he wasn’t that bad at comforting her either when he wasn’t troubled by what the outside world would think about his inner experiences that he was so brave to put out there on display in his work.

“Fair enough,” Valtor shrugged, unbothered by her words that he correctly read as part of their game, the thought sending all her cogs to a screeching halt. Since when did she allow herself to play in it? “I have something else to keep me going now,” he said, his eyes on her again like he could see into her soul.

“What might that be?” Griffin held his gaze without anything to send her heart pounding in her ears even if that was true. He wasn’t there to attack her. If anything, he needed support now, not another battle after the hell he’d been through and the torture he forced on himself. Though, to be fair, the impulse to blame yourself when you seemed to be the odd one out was understandable if not even familiar. But he wasn’t alone now. They were together in that. He’d asked her to wear the dress and she would do it even if her mind was leaning towards flight as the blue of his eyes was filling her lungs. He’d seen something in her that had made him trust her with presenting his work to the world and she wanted to know what that was. She wanted to find the same magic in herself that he’d seen.

Valtor didn’t answer but turned around instead, knowing that she’d follow his lead now that she trusted him and would see what he was pointing her to.

Behind him–or rather in front of now–the city was alive with lights that shined in the darkness like the stars adorning the night sky. And it was even closer. It looked like something you could touch and could easily hold into your heart. It did look like something that could inspire you and keep you not only awake, but also alive. It certainly seemed magical to know there were so many other people out there, living like you were, with their problems and their drama, and their perseverance. Because the lights kept coming to life every night when dark threatened to put a stop to all of that. And they seemed to band together to disperse the darkness of the night and not to add more of it. It was a breathtaking sight.

As was the dress that was much more captivating in reality than it was on a sheet of paper. It was so soft to the touch even if the diamonds on the bodice threatened to cut you with the sharp light they were reflecting and it hugged her curves perfectly. It made her never want to take it off, feeling like an outfit she could live in. It wasn’t suffocating or annoying in any way and it was showing off the most beautiful colors right there on her frame. She felt like a painting – vibrant with energy and untouchable with its value, the only thing you could do with it was admire it. Admire her. In the dress he’d made specifically to celebrate his career in fashion and also unknowingly–though, his gaze on her made her doubt there was a thought in her mind right now that he hadn’t heard–to allow her to model without the dread in the pit of her stomach. She was ready to face the world wrapped in his work.

“Well?” she asked to see if he was ready for the same. “Anything off that needs fixing?” Her heart protested against the question and she could agree with that. She didn’t want to jump out of her skin at the thought of everyone looking at her in that dress and everything was right. To her at least.

“We need to figure out your hair,” Valtor looked her over, sending the first pang of nervousness shooting through her like a charge of electricity that could fray the delicate beauty of the fabric or her mental state.

“Braid? Please?” Griffin hated how small her voice sounded but it was exactly why she couldn’t have her anxiousness spilling out of her and over the dress. She’d done that to all of his other models that she’d worn but this one was special with how it made her feel and she wanted to keep it that way. She wanted to hold on to that feeling of boldness and the desire to walk out in front of all the people that would be there to judge them and show the the beauty he’d made. He’d trusted her with that and she didn’t want to let him down. And she didn’t want to let herself down either. It was the first time she a spark of enthusiasm about her job lit up inside her and she didn’t want to let that go, smothered by the lack of air in her lungs.

Valtor considered it for a moment before an idea visibly struck as he filled with energy that had her more curious rather than needing to hold on to something. Even when he made his way behind her and reached for her.

“May I?” Valtor asked, his hands only burying in her hair when she gave her agreement and she was burning to thank him profoundly but she had to stay focused on keeping her mouth shut while his fingers ran through her hair tugging on her vocal cords every time he tugged on the purple strands on accident.

It was why she hated having her hair done. There was so much tugging and pulling on it and it made it hard to contain her sensitivity to that kind of touch but she had to. She would be mortified if anything slipped past her lips and gave them a glimpse of what was going on inside her. But that didn’t hold true with Valtor as he worked, weaving her hair in a braid without weaving any panic inside her. Only gratitude, instead, for the gentleness of his hands and of his gaze as he was looking at her very closely and he still found her perfect. Even after working with her and seeing her bitterness at the world. Or maybe because of that.

A gasp fell from her lips at the realization prickling her.

“Did I hurt you?” Valtor asked, unsurprisingly having paid attention to that. His hand was on her shoulder as if to steady her and make sure she was ready for him to continue before he did so.

“No, I’m fine,” Griffin had to remind herself that she couldn’t shake her head right now no matter how much she wanted to support her words with body language, too, to convince him it was the truth. “It’s just... I have a sensitive scalp,” she said because that was true, too, even if it wasn’t what had caused her reaction this time. Not directly at least. But she couldn’t let him know that. Though, maybe it was the knowledge that she could that had her heart leaping in her throat to barricade the words inside.

Valtor hummed and she could feel his mind spiraling down to the gutter but hers followed suit and she had to pull herself out before she could fall in too deep. “I will be careful not to hurt you then,” he said, sincere to the point of inconvenience at the present moment. And his hand returning back into her hair tugged out the relief every part of her was soaking in to the point where she was drowning in it and wouldn’t even regret a last breath sucked in through the waves. It was the safest she’d felt in the hands of someone who wasn’t family.

He was soon done, his fingers holding the end of her braid to keep it from unraveling and she could feel him looking at it, the cogs in his head turning so loudly that she couldn’t hear any insecurities that came crashing down inside her mind while she waited for his assessment.

“Do you know where the braid ends?” Valtor startled her for a moment before she was prompted to join him in thought.

“Let me guess,” Griffin's lips got pulled into a smile, “where the purple starts turning into black.” It wasn’t even a question. She was aware of how long her hair was when braided and she’d memorized how the dress looked on her. It was a sight that she wished to keep in her mind until the end of time to remind her that she herself was breathtaking as became evident in the dress, in the way the colors overflowed into each other the way only nature could make them, existing together in a perfect harmony when it seemed illogical, even impossible.

“Precisely,” Valtor confirmed, slightly amused by it. Whether because he was taking it for a coincidence or because–like her–he was aware it wasn’t, she wasn’t really sure, but she was willing to bet on the latter. He was more in tune with his soul than she’d initially given him credit for so he probably recognized his own subconscious work now that he had it laid out in front of him. And she wasn't fidgeting with the thought that he’d noticed just how long her hair was and his mind had done the rest of the math threading itself between her fingers to accessorize the dress. “It just needs one last detail,” the smugness in Valtor's voice had her intrigued this time with his pride most certainly not being misplaced.

“And what is that?” she asked, hoping he wouldn’t decide to be dramatic right now and keep her in suspense.

Her impatience seemed to come through despite her stillness–or perhaps because of it now that they could be real with each other and they allowed it, leaving no place for fakeness–or he was simply excited himself to share–either of which sounded good to her–since he was quick to respond. “Sparks.”

“Sparks?” Griffin echoed, though, if she was being perfectly honest, she allowed herself to taste the word and savor it even if she wasn’t quite certain what he meant with it. It certainly sounded enchanting.

“We have sun and moon, and stars,” Valtor said, making the pieces click to leave her with an alluring image of his genius, “so we only need sparks.”

“That would be beautiful,” Griffin admitted as she gave her all to control her breathlessness just as she was doing with her hands that were itching run over the gems on the bodice to get a feel of the idea of more gems tangled in her hair. She could see it in her mind's eye but she had trouble grounding the image in reality when it looked like it had come out of a fairytale. And she really needed it to come true to finally have something truly magical in her life.

“You will be beautiful, Griffin,” Valtor let go of her hair to look her in the eyes as he offered the compliment and she unraveled like her braid did when he wasn’t holding it together under his insistent gaze as he was trying to put the words in her heart and she’d let him if she could just find the certainty they would be safe there. “You always are,” he said and she found herself smiling at him when he helped her find what she’d been looking for. She didn’t even need him to touch her to believe it, the admiration in his eyes so tangible, enclosed in their ice as if to be preserved there for the ages.

And she was smiling again when she heard his voice calling for her, her fingers pressing the hold button for the elevator of their own accord before he’d even asked her to wait for him.

“Will you have dinner with me now? I need a plus one.” The answer to that proved harder to find. Especially since he kept adding strings to it and making it a net she didn’t want to die in. “It’s for a business meeting in the guise of a party,” Valtor added as if that could patch up the holes his words had left in her for the ease to seep out and make space for her unwillingness. But that didn’t help either when he was asking her to be a decoration to the mask she still hated even if it was what helped him survive in the dangerous waters he swam in.

“Why don’t you ask one of the other girls?” She didn’t want to tell him all of that. She didn’t want to tell him that there was a part of him she still found distasteful after he’d opened up to her and let her see into his soul. “I’m sure Ediltrude would love to come with you,” she did her best not to push one of her newly found friends into something she’d hate just to save herself. She knew Zarathustra wouldn’t be a fan of the idea either but she was certain her sister would love it. Seemed just like her type of event.

“Will you ever go to dinner with me?” Valtor shuffled her mind like a puzzle she'd have to put back together to tell what had necessitated that question when they’d already established an answer before she remembered it'd been Valtor who’d given her a rein check but she’d never taken it. It made the words sound different to her now, made her notice the risk he was taking by asking again and making it more personal than it had been last time. Like he wanted the answer more than he feared it, like he wanted more, more time with her. And somehow that didn’t sound selfish to her now. Maybe because she wanted that too.

“Have you considered that it’s not you that’s the problem with those offers?” she put herself out there, too, because it was just the two of them in the closed space of the elevator and her soul had nowhere to escape if she let it out, except maybe in his eyes as she looked at him to find them full of disbelief that made her want to give it to him. But to him only. She couldn’t let him pull it out in the world too.

Valtor’s smile was so small with all the sadness pushing it down in an attempt to turn it into a frown. “Sounds like wishful thinking,” he raised his hand as if trying to scare her away by letting the meaning of his words hit her. And his eyes widened ever so slightly in wonder at the sight of her stillness that allowed him to cup her cheek. And it made no sense because he’d done it before but she knew he hadn’t. Not like that. They’d been distressed back then. And they hadn’t known just what that between them could turn out to be. Or at least she hadn’t.

“Why do you want me at that event when you know how I feel about publicity?” she asked, her question not an accusation in her mind but the exact opposite. He saw her and understood her and she could find it in herself to trust that. But it left her unable to comprehend why he would ask something like that of her when he’d always read the tension in her at the moments she had to put herself out there, had even helped her with it on numerous occasions.

“Because I’m selfish,” Valtor pulled his hand away before she could catch it and proved that it wasn’t true as he refused the reassurance despite knowing she’d give it instead of grasping at it. “I want the strength you give me,” he said, awakening an impulse in her to pull away to process the words that she forced herself to suppress. “It makes it that much easier for me to put on a collected facade.” The words forced her jaw to drop as if to accommodate them as they made their way inside her and she’d need the space now even if she didn’t want it. “I know it’s a lot to ask and I understand why you refuse to do it. I appreciate you being honest with me about it,” Valtor paused for a moment as if wondering if he should say something else.

She even heard him call her name but the ring of the elevator interfered with the sound letting the outside world in when the doors opened and Valtor hopped out without even saying a goodbye before she could do anything. Not that she would have accepted it anyway as the topic still stood open in front of them and maybe it was best that way. She needed time to put her thoughts in order despite the pull on her muscles to run after him. She couldn't catch up with him just yet, still stuck on his words.

She was torn between berating herself for not noticing sooner how much her support meant to him–or rather not connecting the dots when it came to the pretense he was putting up that reminded so much of her own and she should have known–and letting her heart race with joy over what he’d confessed. She couldn’t have imagined that he needed her to keep up the facade she hated so much and she couldn’t make herself help him with that no matter how much she wanted to, especially when it meant she’d have to put on her own mask, but it still brought them closer and let her underneath even though he couldn’t let it crumble. He trusted her to let her behind his last line of defense and it was enough to stop her breath.

As was the necklace Valtor was putting on her for a photo shoot that had been arranged in the last possible moment but for entirely different reasons. At least this time the dress had been informed that it was to fit her body so that was under control. Valtor was just making sure of that and adding the finishing touch. Or rather twelve of them, all twenty-four-carat and ready to be noticed and admired like she only was with him.

“Trying to lock me into place?” Griffin teased, wishing her hair wasn’t in an updo so that she could have somewhere to put her hands. She was getting antsy having to sit still. Or maybe it was because she’d have to pose for hours on end as a mannequin for the clothes that were more important than her. Somehow that had never worried her before but now it did. She didn’t know if she could be soulless enough and she had to do it for him. For his work. She’d done a lot of posing for her own but now that she understood just how much of himself he put in his designs she felt like she hadn’t done enough. She wanted to do more.

“Gotta make sure you won’t run away with my heart,” Valtor made hers leap inside her chest as if it had been jump-started to life after she’d died so many times putting herself out there on display in the name of her dream. “I put so much effort in this dress,” he said, instantly prompting her to turn her back on the mirror she was staring at and look at him instead. She knew what the dress looked like just like she could tell when his words were a lie.

“This dress isn’t your heart.” It was beautiful, yes, but it wasn’t special. She’d peel it off after she was done with the photo shoot and she’d be glad to be rid of it and would never think about it again unless it was pushed into her face from a billboard or an internet page. Or perhaps one of those glossy magazines the other girls always had their noses buried into that had almost thrown her off about their intelligence and she’d only gotten past it thanks to the nudge from him. “The one you’re making for the anniversary celebration is,” she put her hand over his chest to feel how right she was as his heart beat in agreement.

“You know me so well?” Valtor asked but it wasn’t a mockery. It was more of disbelief, really, and she couldn’t have that. Not after how honest he’d been with her. Though, maybe that was the reason for his words now. He hadn’t avoided her per se after their talk in the elevator but he hadn’t sought her out either and it had really driven home how used she’d become to his attention. She’d found herself missing it on day one. And he must have missed it, too.

“I know you want to kiss me,” she moved closer, the deeper breath he took at that breezing over her neck his eyes darkened like she’d turned off the light to free them from the burden of being watched. “But you can’t because you’ll smudge my makeup and there’s not enough time to fix it,” she left her lips parted, running the risk of being the one to destroy her makeup if she allowed herself to lick them. It would certainly earn her his attention back if it wasn’t already on her. And it was.

He was just as lost in her train of thought as she was, the direction it was headed into clear but that wasn’t helpful when they had to find it in themselves to get off it before they’d reached their dream destination. “You’re wrong,” Valtor’s eyes captured hers despite how irresistible his lips proved to be as they were moving. “I can kiss you,” he said and her heart stopped in her chest so perhaps anticipation was the opposite of adrenaline. “And I will.” Valtor’s fingers closed around the hand on his chest and she couldn’t be mad at him for pulling it away from his heart when he let his lips caress it while his eyes remained locked with hers. “I’m not done,” he murmured against her skin before he let go of her hand and grasped at her shoulders turning her around again.

She saw him in the mirror as he leaned down, all of his focus on what he was about to do with her, and his lips tickled her skin around the fastener of the necklace at the nape of her neck with their gentleness and the knowledge she allowed it. It had a shiver running through her and she tried to soak up the warmth of his hands on her to get her through the shoot. It struck once again how similar they were as she needed his support just as badly as he needed hers.

“Now you’re locked into place,” Valtor whispered in her ear watching out for the hairdo as he did so but even that couldn’t mess up the sensuality of the moment.

She’d known he was an artist when it came to flirting, too, but this was something else, something different. It was a romance like she’d never had before and she could only hope she wasn’t mistaken because the fall would be brutal. It would rip out not just her wings but her soul, too, and she doubted even the stars would have the power to save her after she’d put all the light of her trust in him.

“Too bad I have to go out there,” Griffin drawled and the sound was more playful than regretful as this time it wasn’t the reluctance of showing herself to the cameras that had driven the words–though, that was a factor, too–but her willingness to stay with him behind the curtains. It was a good place to be. The best place. Especially with his hands on her frame still, sliding down her sides and to her waist as if to draw her attention to her curves and his appreciation for them. A dangerous move considering how tempted it left her to throw it all away and let him peel the dress off of her, free her from the duty of her job and her insecurities. She knew he could do that, could wrap her in a layer of his caresses that would keep her safe from the hell in her head. She just had to let him.

“The dress needs to be shown off,” Valtor made it a request like it had always been. From him to her to wear his dress and present his talent to the world. Only, she hadn’t appreciated the faith and trust he put into her until now, blinded by her own distaste for the whole ordeal to the point of never having asked herself why he’d let her have the job in the first place after she’d made it perfectly clear she wasn’t interested in fashion. But since then she’d seen his intuition at work and she could trust it, could draw the needed confidence from it. Because he’d chosen her to be the face of his work, of his soul.

“I’m on it,” she said and the smile he gifted her with through the mirror stayed in her eyes even as she made it out of his hold and had the cameras flashing in them like they were jealous of their golden shade. And they had to be. Because they’d never see him the way she did, would never get to know the real him with all of the beauty he had within. They’d only get to see what was spilling out because he was so full of it it overflowed. But he’d chosen to show her and for the first time she was glad to be there and proud to be in the spotlight with his art wrapped around her, his soul touching hers.

The feeling seemed to stay with her even after that as everything seemed new. She didn’t cringe when Ediltrude shoved the magazine with the photos in her hands and didn’t try to brush it off, her gaze sliding over the glossy pages to relive the moment once again and revel in the beautiful image she made for in his dress. She went to work with enthusiasm, especially when she could see the preparations for the anniversary celebration unfolding, and her heart almost exploded from excitement when Valtor told her her sparks had arrived, doing his best to resist her persuasion to spoil the surprise but he finally relented and showed them to her smiling at her joy in a way that had made her want to kiss it off his mouth and swallow it to keep it inside her forever for the it was that precious. She even let Zarathustra drag her on a shopping spree since her personal wardrobe could use something new as well.

Walking through the underground garage was also new as she’d never left the building from there but she’d felt an impulse after they were done with the last preparations for the jubilee. Tomorrow was the big day and she’d wanted to see every part of the building, get to know her work place like she’d allowed herself to get to know her colleagues. Or at least that was how she’d tried to rationalize the inexplicable need to go a route she’d never used before since the main entrance provided the shortest way to her bus stop–Valtor had offered her a firm car and a chauffeur but she’d scoffed at the idea of being treated like she was special just because of the job she couldn’t stand–but it became clear what had actually drawn her there once she saw him.

His car was one of the few left–and some of them rarely left the garage anyway so there was a good chance they were the last people in the building save for security as all of the other girls had left and the rest of the staff, too–and he seemed to abandon the thought of leaving when he saw her as he opened his door and got out of it again.

“Need a ride?” his voice echoed through the empty space and his eyes sparkled to let her know there was nothing innocent in that offer which would have bothered her if her own thoughts had been innocent. But the time when she could have pretended she didn’t want him had been gone from the moment she’d felt his hands in her hair and his lips on her neck. And sparks didn’t even begin to cover the extent of that desire.

“Is it safe to get in a car with you?” she quipped at him with maybe just a hint of genuine worry in there. She’d been more distracted thinking about him than she’d ever admit the last few weeks so as much as she liked having his whole focus on her, that could prove to be a bad idea while he was driving.

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take if I get to be with you,” Valtor leaned on the car casually and, heavens above, he didn’t get to do that. He didn’t get to read her thoughts and then respond to them, and he most certainly didn’t get to tell her he was willing to die if he could do it with her. But he’d already done it and she’d allowed it, had been ecstatic about it. He was risking so much with the dress he’d made for her, for the two of them and the way their souls seemed to tangle, and she’d let him, she’d been right there with him the whole time, by his side where she’d figured out she liked to be. Not on the podium with only his eyes on her to keep her believing she was beautiful–and she could drown in the way he was drinking in the sight of her even now that she wore designer clothes by someone else–but next to him where his arm was wrapping around her and pulling her closer even though he’d never done that since he respected her personal space. She would love that, would love to wear his touch on her skin all the time as it told her things even his dresses couldn’t when they had the softness and honesty of his soul but not the fire she’d gladly let consume her.

“Did my clothes change your mind?” she asked once she realized the silence around them would never get heavy no matter how long they spent staring at each other like nothing else existed. Or probably because of that.

“No, not at all,” he said and she had no trouble believing the words when it was obvious that he still wanted to rip the clothes off of her. And she wanted to let him, wanted to feel his jealousy and his need but was still scared it wouldn’t match hers, was still doubtful with the distance between them. “Nothing can change my mind about you, Griffin.” The way her name filled the space around them made her the center of the world, of his world, and that was more than she’d ever been in anyone’s eyes, including her own. It only had her wish to run into him and gaze in his that were her mirror and he had the power to make her see herself like that too. And she could only hope she could do the same for him as well. “Because that’s not where you are,” Valtor made her breath stop and, dammit, he couldn’t kill her now before she’d heard how he’d follow that up. “You’re in my heart,” he reached in her chest to take hers but she was only more alive than ever with him tracing his love for her all over it with his fingertips. “You’ve been there from the start with your passion and your strength, and your beauty.”

A sequence like that would have offended her coming from anyone else’s mouth but she knew what he was putting in the words. She knew how he saw the world and that that was the greatest compliment coming from him as he could see all of her and still call her that. And she accepted the title that she hadn’t been able to before now that he’d healed all the wounds that had had the compliment bleeding out of her every time she’d received it. He’d been there by her side and he’d seen everything, he knew what he was talking about and his words weren’t just empty like ghosts floating around her to remind her that no one could see inside her.

She crossed the remaining space between them, her legs like jelly but her steps sure with the sound of her heels to accentuate them. She was made of softness as she’d never been more secure in her feelings and it only gave her the strength to reach for what she wanted. And that was him.

Her hands closed in his shirt as she pulled him into her to finally taste his lips after he’d given her every piece of his soul and her mouth opened to let it all flow inside her. She wanted to feel it, feel all of him, everything. She wanted him to make a masterpiece of her skin when he caressed his feelings on it like he’d already done with her heart, wanted to be his art, the canvas on which he could express himself. She’d soak it all up and let the freedom that he gave her join the one he found in her.

His fingers tangled in her hair for her to let out a moan the moment at the slight pull on her tresses. She wanted to give it to him now that she wasn’t afraid of showing her neediness and the desire bubbling in her chest, in her lungs when she had his hot breath inside them scorching away every disruption in her breathing so that she could fill them fully. And it wasn’t even enough to feel his chest moving against her in the same rhythm as he mirrored her state. She needed to touch him, run her hands over his skin and let them both feel that they were together now, truly entangled in one another and he could hold her freely with no need to do it through the fabric she’d let him wrap around her body reluctantly at first and then more and more eagerly until she’d reached a point where she yearned to have his touch all over her body with no clothes in the way.

She let go of his shirt only to work on undoing the buttons, her mouth still on him, latched on to his now that she’d finally allowed herself to be with him. Her hands slid over the exposed skin the moment she was done with unbuttoning and she had to break the kiss to let out the groan of appreciation she didn’t want to confine in their mouths as the warmth of the contact spread through her palms and further inside her being.

Valtor seemed just as gone as she was, lost in the feeling of her hands all over his torso as a shiver running through him. It could have been from the coolness of her palms on his heated skin but she knew it was because of her, because she was touching him the way they both wanted.

She didn’t waste time and leaned in to kiss his body. Her first stop was his pulse point where she melted at the pounding of his heart inside him like it wanted to get out and into the comfort of her mouth. She’d pull it inside her own chest if she could but she had to settle for leaving her kisses all over his, her lipstick stains staying behind to show for both their feelings and she couldn’t help but smile at the color he’d picked for her as he’d said it complemented her skin tone. It certainly stood out on him in a way that screamed she’d been there and she loved it. It was perfect.

Valtor tugged her up by her hair, the action careful despite the roughness–he’d promised not to hurt her, after all, and he kept his word–and looked her in the eyes, the moment stretching when it became clear he had no intention of speaking as words had never been their language anyway but he still took the time to communicate his desire to her before putting it in her system as he crashed his lips on hers once again. His tongue made itself welcome in her mouth and she could only protest when he had to pull away. But he was still there.

His hands were everywhere, touching for the sake of it this time and not because he was arranging a dress on her figure and she could barely breathe, afraid of breaking the spell of the moment. She hadn’t quite enjoyed it when he’d been dressing her up but the undressing now she could definitely appreciate as his hands pulled her top up and traced over her abdomen searing the sensation into her brain as something new, as the true start of things between them. He hadn’t had access to that before but she’d given it now like she wanted to give him everything, all of herself for him to create with.

He took the opportunity drawing patterns on her thighs as his hands sneaked under her skirt inching closer to their goal as they touched more and more of her and there was less of her skin left unexplored and less sounds she hadn’t made for him. He was eager to get all of those out of her, pressing his fingers into her underwear to have her gasp, then pant when he rubbed them against her and she could feel him watching her face, his fascination seeping through her eyelids with the quietness that accompanied it. He barely dared breathe, the only part of him moving being his fingers, entranced with pleasuring her the same way he was entranced with the sounds she worshiped with which his efforts.

Her head was already spinning just from that before he turned them around and hoisted her up on the hood of his car, the metal pressing into her flesh not cold enough to have her desire sizzle out. If anything, it only made her reach blindly for his belt buckle, not even frustration entering her mind when she couldn’t find it immediately. She got to feel the skin she’d found by accident instead. Even the lack of his heat on top of her as he moved to grab a condom couldn’t pull her brain out of the passionate haze it was wrapped into. The only thing she could think about was him inside her and, luckily for her, that was exactly what she got.

His name almost slipped from her mouth as he entered her but she wanted to save it for when he made her come–she wanted to give him everything but at the right time and she thought he’d appreciate hearing his name drenched in all the pleasure he’d brought her–so she settled for a loud moan instead. Not that she could keep it to that one only. It was just the start and she found herself desperate enough to whine for more as she wrapped her legs around him and pulled him closer, her fingers clutching at his shoulders without the presence of mind she needed to bite at him. She could only hold on and let him give her everything he wanted.

He had it worse, though, his frustration coming through in the way his teeth slid over her skin repeatedly only to pull away at the realization he couldn’t bite at her upper body–and he couldn’t reach lower–with the celebration the next day. He seemed to drown out the fading memory of reality in the sounds she was spilling keenly in response to his fingers moving over her in sync with his thrusts that were pushing her into ecstasy as well as into the hood of the car.

She had to have hurt his hearing with how loudly she moaned out his name right in his ear but he only sank further into her and her embrace until he reached his release as well, her name a breathless whisper on his lips and she couldn’t help the quiver that ran through her at the knowledge he used up the last bit of his oxygen to let her know the depths of the pleasure he’d found himself in, all enveloped in her soul. And she fell in love with the way his muscles slackened as he let his body relax on top of her and weigh her down while he panted softly against her throat. As if feeling her draw in air was helping him do the same and it was so intimate, especially as he pressed his lips there, right above the hollow of her throat, worshiping the very fact that she was alive and breathing. She almost came again just from that.

Valtor helped her get down from the car and reality started coming back as her clothes returned in their places and she could keep her eyes open, could hear the way the sound waves moved through the garage and could remember the sensation of the metal under her back. It started sinking in that she’d just had sex–her first time with Valtor–on the hood of his car in his company’s garage and if that didn’t speak loud and clear of how desperate she’d been for him, then she didn’t know what did. Luckily for her, he didn’t seem to mind.

“Is it finally time to grab that dinner?” Griffin asked as she made sure she’d fixed her skirt properly. She didn’t usually do it backwards. She didn’t even do it at all, her feet firmly on the ground and taking her to her goal, no time for meaningless romantic escapades and flings that just weren’t her thing. But he’d never taken out of her time. He’d only enriched it instead and had helped her find meaning in something she’d despised when she’d started out as a model. She wanted to give him all the time she had.

“Hungry so soon?” A grin pulled at Valtor's mouth at the double meaning of the words.

“Just a dinner, Valtor,” Griffin said but her sentence was disrupted by the chuckle that escaped her.

“Of course,” he agreed instantly. “I know I’m starving. My place then?” Looked like she wasn’t going home. Good thing she’d denied Faragonda’s offer to spend the night with her as she usually did before Griffin had a fashion show the next day. It helped calm her nerves but she hadn’t felt the need this time. Not to mention that she’d gotten tired of Faragonda’s teases about what was brewing between her and Valtor. Probably because they were wilder than what was happening in reality or because she hadn’t wanted to jinx it, even if her own imagination could get quite racy as it turned memory into fantasy and she wasn’t superstitious. Though, it’d turned out just fine. Better than that, in fact.

“You cook?” Griffin tried not to jump to conclusions on either side of the range of answers he could give her. He’d been surprise after surprise so it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that he could cook. She kind of hoped that he’d say yes, actually. They could have so much fun cooking together.

“God, no,” Valtor dashed those fantasies quickly. “I’m an actual disaster in the kitchen,” he admitted. “The only way I can be helpful there is to assess how aesthetically pleasing a dish looks.” Of course. That did sound like him and she was sure he was great at it. “I assumed you’d prefer the privacy over a restaurant, though. Even if we have to order takeout.”

Griffin nodded, leaving alone the implications behind why he didn’t bring up her place as they could go either way as well. “Okay. And yes, you were right about that. Thank you,” her resistance to reaching out to touch him was a mystery to her after they’d been all over each other. But maybe that was it. She couldn’t exactly trust herself to keep her head in the game around him after she’d let herself have sex in a public space. It sounded like her nightmare and yet, there she was, fingers fidgeting with the hem of her top that was now where it was supposed to be which could be the reason for her restlessness that hadn’t been present while his hands had been on her skin.

“Okay,” Valtor said, a brief pause in him as he debated what to do next, the same frantic energy radiating from him before his hand was on her neck cupping it gently and pulling her into a kiss that she’d need him to hold her for as she her knees buckled just at the contact of their lips but it was over soon. He probably feared that they’d fall down the rabbit hole again if they kept it up. “You can get in the car. I’ll just go make sure we haven’t left a sex tape behind,” his voice was quiet as he was doing his best not to disturb her peace of mind.

Heat rushed through her to set her whole body on fire before it reached her cheeks where it was blocked from escaping her system and started scorching her instead. Though, she had to admit it wasn’t all bad. And while the thought of someone having seen her at a moment so sacred made her hair stand on end and gave her trouble walking the short distance to the passenger door, she couldn’t bring herself to regret the experience.

There was something about the lack of control and restraint they’d both demonstrated that made her blood boil in a most pleasant way. There'd been no containing the passion pouring out from within and the knowledge of how much they’d both wanted it still made her shake on the inside and press her thighs together, the slickness she could still feel making her breath hitch. It was hard to breathe through the thick blanket of tender happiness Valtor had wrapped her into but she wouldn’t change it for anything. She’d yearned for that for so long, had burned in her desire for it until it’d been just beyond painful, and she’d finally gotten a taste of it. All she could do now was hold on to it and try not to let the fear of losing it in her heart but that would prove to be hard when it was so open in her eagerness for new sensations.

Luckily, Valtor caught her short as he came back and reassured her that there’d been no recording made. Apparently his staff was more than loyal and considerate since they’d turned off the cameras the moment it’d become clear in what direction things were going. Which meant they’d jeopardized the security of the building with their sex escapade and embarrassment should have had her sweating but all that was left on her body was the exertion from the sex. He was there with her and she was more comfortable in her skin than she’d ever been before after he’d touched all of her, her body and her soul, and had helped her feel whole.

The car ride had been light, full of joking to compensate for the lack of eye contact and touching. They only sharpened each other’s wit as the comebacks were flying back and forth and she was alive when he matched her every step and pulled her forward. They only had to stop to order food so that they wouldn’t have to wait for it too long once they got to his house. She was quite hungry herself even if they’d sated other urges.

She was stuck in awe when they walked inside his living room and she saw the sketches hanging on the walls instead of the paintings of dogs she’d expected there, too. They were all of dresses she’d worn and Valtor explained that his walls were reserved for his favorite designs. She asked him if he’d put them there before or after he’d had her wear them only to have him help her realize it didn’t matter. Either way he associated his best works with her. And her chest wasn't big enough to contain her heart anymore at the silent confession that she was his muse, his inspiration, and she was barely able to keep inside her all the happiness trying to leak out of her eyes at the thought that she was to someone–to him–what the stars were to her. But she didn’t have to because Valtor could see it and share it with her without taking it away from her. He’d only add more to it instead.

She was surprised to find a piano in there, too, though Valtor’s artistic inclination wasn’t something anyone could dispute. She hadn’t pondered the question if it extended to other forms of art as well. She did have the answer now and she was delighted when Valtor offered to play for her.

The soft melody hung in the air during the rest of their evening while they ate on the couch and took the time to share memories. They knew each other on an emotional level but they didn’t know much details about their backgrounds. And she had to admit her life didn’t seem quite as gloomy when she looked back on it now. Maybe it was because she was bringing up more of the happy moments in favor of keeping the mood light or maybe it was because she’d gotten through all the pain to make her way to the present where she could sit with him and look back on her tears knowing they had been worth it as she got to look into his eyes now and see the light she hoped her own would return.

Next thing she knew was the blinding light of the morning offending her sight after her eyelids were forced open against her will by the incessant sound of his alarm. They’d drifted off to sleep on the couch and her entire body was stiff but at least there was nothing too sore once she worked out the kinks. It wouldn’t get in the way of showing off the dress.

Just the thought had her stomach tightening in anticipation but it wasn’t anxiousness. She was actually so excited about it that she couldn’t quite keep still while Valtor drove her back to her apartment so that she could take a shower and change. And she would’ve loved to ride with him to work as well but she didn’t want to start rumors today of all days. The twins were already teasing her because of the whole business with the dress and how often she’d been finding her way to Valtor’s office the last few weeks. And while they were right to think something was happening there, she didn’t want to have that to worry about on a big day like that one.

She was considerably more relaxed than usually during the whole process of makeup and hairstyling and then dressing. Though, it might have been the fact that she had the same lipstick she’d left on him the previous night applied on her lips–it would give him something to think about the whole time he was looking at her and possibly not only–and she had the orange gems–her sparks–tangled in her braid. It only sparked love towards her process of transformation instead of the hate she usually regarded it with. And then it was finally time for the dress.

Valtor was there to help with the whole process and his hands on her definitely got in the way of concentrating to keep her from troubling her mind with worries but she knew she needed to focus. She couldn’t blow this for the both of them. She wanted to make him proud of her. Not only as his muse but also as his model and that was a first like so many other things were with him. She couldn’t wait to see what else that relationship had to offer.

Her heartbeat raced as she waited for him to announce her entrance but the impulse to run was directed towards the stage, towards him, instead of in the opposite direction as she was so used to it being. She would gladly take his hand and stay at his side at that important for him moment. She wanted to give him the support she hadn’t been able to provide with her own hangups in the way. He’d freed her from them and she wanted to do the same for him, wanted to get out there and show everyone just what beauty he was capable of making when his heart was in it as much as his mind was.

The sound of her name leaving his lips was much louder than it had been when he’d been inside her but it still carried the same affection and his eyes were still full of worship as she stepped on the stage confident like she was a goddess. Because she knew she was one in his eyes and that was all that mattered.

She did her best to contain the smile blooming on her face as she heard the gasps of wonder when the guests’ eyes landed on the dress and the echoes coming from behind her when her secure steps took her closer to him and allowed for the sparks to be noticed. She couldn’t help but revel in the attention this time like never before as she felt beautiful and recognized for who she was. At least by him. But that was more than enough for her, and she didn’t leave his side all night which was exactly what surprised her at his casual comment that his parents had left.

They hadn’t even walked by to congratulate him and despite their clear stance on his whole business, she’d expected at least as much. Valtor wasn't surprised or fazed for that matter and told her that they were just there to save face since they wouldn’t get away with not showing up to their son’s company’s anniversary among their friends.

She didn’t care about them either way, not after he’d told her about their dismissal of his work and she knew their hearts had to be made of unthawable ice if even the sparks he got in his eyes from his passion about a project hadn’t melted their disdain of his talent. And since he didn’t pay attention to their soulless behavior, she decided not to either. She had far more important things to attend to – namely, making sure he was having the time of his life. He deserved it after all his hard work and enthusiasm he’d poured in building his company and his reputation. And she was glad to see he’d also made friends along the way since all the other girls and his other employees shared his happiness and all the genuine joy made for an unforgettable atmosphere that even the outside people couldn’t tear apart.

The party went on till the early hours of the morning, though it was mostly just company staff that was left at that point which only made it merrier. Especially when the photos taken weren’t going to be subjected to meticulous judgment and were just for fun instead. She even indulged all the rest when they begged her to pose with them for a firm album they’d just gotten the idea to make. She couldn’t bail when she was the centerpiece of the whole celebration and of Valtor’s career.

It proved much more fun than she’d expected but she was glad that it was over and it was finally just him and her in his office. She wasn’t quick to get rid of the hairdo this time as the braid was as cozy as home to her but she was making use of the supplies for removing makeup she’d grabbed from the dressing rooms.

“No dinner with the girls this time?” she teased, trying not to let the sad note in her tone take over it. She’d never managed to go to one of those–or rather hadn’t let herself–and since the end of the night was also the end of a whole era, she couldn’t help the feeling of a missed opportunity. The knowledge it was all on her as she’d been cordially invited by pretty much everyone didn’t make it any easier to deal with.

“Well, technically, the celebration ended just now so we proceed with our usual schedule and have the dinner that same evening, so tonight,” Valtor's voice carried a hint of a playful note that was most certainly there to cheer her up since he could read her mind. “Will you come?” he asked, the hope bountiful both in the words and in his eyes.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Griffin paused her work just for a moment to let him know she truly meant it. If anything, the night had proven that she’d joined a big family–whether she’d liked it or not–and she didn’t want to let that feeling of belonging go. It wasn’t something she’d had before and while she’d never expected to find it at a fashion house, she was ecstatic at having been proven oh so wrong.

“There’s just a thing we need to discuss before we can appear in public together since I’m sure there will be paparazzi following us everywhere,” Valtor made her raise her eyebrow at him both in question and to express her distaste with the whole ordeal of being unable to take a step without being chased by cameras. It was like living in a dystopian novel and those had never been her favorite genre. “The media is already speculating about the nature of our relationship and if it is strictly professional,” he showed her his phone for her to see the article that had already been posted on someone’s blog about the constellations on the bodice of the dress she was still wearing–she didn’t want to part with it yet when she didn’t know if she’d get to put it on again–and how that was probably a hint at the romance between the two of them since Valtor had chosen to put the symbols of their zodiac signs on it. “What do we tell them?” Valtor would’ve managed to sell the collected facade to anyone else but not to her.

“That it is none of their business,” Griffin looked him in the eyes to let him know none of her ardency was directed towards him in this situation. She didn’t want to hide their relationship but she wasn’t ready to deal with the response it would have from the media yet. Plus, she’d love to have him all to herself for a little while at least before they let the world in on their secret.

“True,” Valtor said, but his nervousness was still there. “However, it is my business,” he put the phone away and rose from his desk that he’d decided to use unconventionally instead of sitting in his chair which would have been far more comfortable, especially after the long night they’d had, but maybe the desk provided more space for his restlessness to roll off of him. “So will you inform me about the status of our relationship?” he stepped closer and she couldn’t decide if he still hadn’t wrapped her in his arms because he wanted to give her her space or because he was afraid she didn’t want him close to her. It was unthinkable for her to imagine it was the latter but she needed to rectify it either way.

“Valtor, I had sex with you on the hood of a car in a public space–which I have never done before–followed by us falling asleep on top of each other while talking on your couch,” she said, hoping the reminder would help quell his anxious mind. “This definitely screams relationship to me,” she left everything she was holding on the chair next to her that she was currently using as a vanity sans a mirror as she did her best not to break eye contact.

Valtor grinned at her at the reassurance–and possibly at the memory of their little adventure and her confession it had been a first for her–and pushed away the rest of the remaining space between them as he made his way to her and wrapped his arms around her waist while she rested hers on his shoulders. “Maybe I should have you screaming it to me to convince me then,” he purred, so close to her lips that she couldn’t resist the temptation to kiss him and he knew it damn well. Not before a smartass comeback, though.

His lips were on hers before she could think of one and she let it go as she much preferred to go with his suggestion anyway. Though, the way it was going, she’d do well to forget about having sex in a bed for a while. It seemed they’d make their way through any other possible surface before they got to the comfort of a mattress. She couldn’t even mind much–or at all–when she had him all pressed against her. That was all the softness she needed to be comfortable so she left herself to the kiss and was surprised to find she didn’t mind him taking off the dress if it was to give him access to her skin. His touch was everything and he was giving her all of it.

She never wanted this to end.

[bakedpieceofchicken]

5am long personal vent

dont interact with this

note: this post mentions endeavor a lot.

context (very important!): I pretty much binge-read an entire tumblr user’s meta posts and I found them interesting and very informative. 

I also read through their salt tag and now I’m compelled to gather my thoughts together considering the literal title I’ve held for months now is “Hawks is a lov member already”. I’m extremely socially awkward, even on this online platform, so I’m not going to mention the aforementioned tumblr user’s name because I’m too anxiety-ridden to try to contact them. This is in no way shape or form an attack on the person’s opinions nor their character. It’s me... rambling about my thoughts about their opinions at 4 am. 

Is it defending myself? Well, not really, because I don’t feel personally attacked. Just because we have a difference of opinion doesn’t mean we have to resort to attacking each other. I found their opinions thought-provoking and wanted to pick my own brain... I picked this time purposely so nobody would see this post :eyes: so like uhm yeah

note 2: “you” refers to unnamed tumblr user. sorry about weird point of view...

anyways let’s get into the meat 

villain hawks

yay or... nay...?

Well, in fanon it would be such a fun idea to play around with. Personally I think there’s potential for League of Villain interactions with Hawks. I would LOVE to see Hawks interacting with the other pro heroes, but the only pro-to-pro interaction we get with Hawks is between Hawks and Endeavor. Because the atmosphere between the pro-heroes feels... disconnected.

Now, hear me out.

Let’s contrast it with the idealized version of hero society provided in future fics. Or hell, comparing the top ten pro heroes to Class 1-A itself. We want to think all the heroes are friendly with each other and have some sort of camaraderie with each other

But Horikoshi doesn’t present it like that. 

The closest thing to that we get is Endeavor and Hawks. Other than that, the atmosphere between hawks and the other heroes seem more strained or tense (the whole miruko hawks thing is fanon). And even then, it’s... well... Endeavor and Hawks don’t truly know each other. Hawks only knows the public perception and image of Endeavor, which is the only thing he’s been given while Endeavor doesn’t truly knows Hawks either. I’m not saying the interactions are fake, but... would Hawks be acting the way he was if he knew about Endeavor’s past?

No. I don’t have any predictor to how differently Hawks would act, but I definitely sense there’d be a lot of disappointment and loss of respect for the man he was rooting for. To what extent? Would Hawks just be in complete disbelief? Or would he react with immediate anger? There are parallels to Hawks and Todoroki Rei--both were picked from the crowd and had their lives controlled because of their “value” determined by Endeavor/The Hero Commission respectively.

But honestly from an objective standpoint, I have nothing to go off of other than the fact that Hawks deeply respects and idolizes Endeavor the most out of anyone in the manga we’ve seen and the fallout of that would be of an equally shattering magnitude...

Ahh i went off on a tangent. the point is... do we really know Hawks? Does Hawks ever get a chance to just.. be himself? Maybe we see a bit of that shine when he’s alone with Endeavor, but as we saw clearly in chapter 186 he puts on a care-free facade for his fans. But in reality... he’s always working because he’s one of the hero commission’s greatest assets. 

and... here’s where our opinions clash. I truly, in the depths of my heart, believe that Hawks is building a reality where heroes have more free time comes from a more selfish desire for himself. Don’t get me wrong--I don’t want to disservice what Hawks has done for society. But also it feels like he’s the type who overworks himself because he feels moral obligation to society when... technically he doesn’t owe anything to society. 

Yes, in superhero shows and whatnot, it’s usually a positive trait that “hey this person’s been born with an amazing power and they’ve chosen to use it for the greater good! Look what they’re sacrificing!!!” But let’s say theoretically that person decides “hey i don’t want to be a hero i just want to be a writer!” Are they morally wrong for deciding not to be a hero even though they would theoretically be good at it? Even though it’s not something they want for themselves?

Because I don’t think Hawks wants to be a hero. But he also doesn’t want people to die. He’s tied himself with these moral obligations to the point where he can’t leave now because he feels it would be selfish of him to. And that is speculation, but Horikoshi isn’t exactly spelling it out for us! So, that’s how I interpret Hawks’ character. Yes, he is a true hero in that he wants to save as many people as he can, even at the cost of his pride his dignity his fucking freedom...

but also, he never wished for that. he never asked to be one who has to deal with all of this. But now that he is, what choice does he have? 

So, yes, we agree on that. But I also feel that his personal desire plays as big of a part. Because we, as humans, naturally want things for ourselves. Our personal desire for ourselves shouldn’t be downplayed at all! That’s why I believe his inner thoughts are worded “more free time” rather than “make society more safe”. Because he has his priorities! He wants the best of both worlds-- it’s a form of negotiation. He can still play the hero and less lives would be taken but he can also having some breathing room for himself like he’s always wanted.

To free himself just a little bit from the stressful life of being a hero. 

There is nothing wrong with being motivated by personal desires. Hawks is one of the most grounded heroes we’ve seen--I think he’s cynical enough that he’s self aware of this selfish desire for a freer life. And it’s selfish to him only because he knows that it would never happen without the expense of a few lives-- lives that he knew he would never forgive himself for letting slip.

I think it’s a toxic mindset.

Because as heroic as placing others above yourself... that attitude is completely unhealthy and I don’t think it should be celebrated. What I want to see from Hawks’ natural progression as a character is recognizing that it’s okay to prioritize yourself. Hell, Midoriya learned this during the summer training arc and failed to retain that lesson during the Overhaul arc! THESE HEROES DON’T TAKE CARE OF THEMSELVES!!! (ok i get midoriya’s trying). 

And if it’s selfish to desire more free time for yourself off from work, is it really that wrong of someone to do so? To want more control over your life? To want to do things you want to do rather than what others want you to do?

What does this have to do with villain Hawks? Well, I think a large desire for villain hawks is because it shows the departure of that mindset! Hawks doesn’t need to be confined to his hero persona anymore, he can finally do things he wants to do and be the free bird he’s always wanted to be.

But him becoming a complete villain is... far-fetched. This myself I recognize. I’ve only written villain!hawks once and that was because he snapped after the hero commission executed shigaraki and dabi as a show of power rather than going through the effort of trying to re-integrate the men back into hero society. I don’t want to go too deep because this isn’t the point I’m trying to make, but Hawks realizes how power-obsessed society is to the point where he doubts the legitimacy of the hero commission itself and what they do for society and its people.

But, again, that’s not going to ever happen in canon so I won’t bring it up another time. The point I was trying to make is yeah, you’re right that Hawks would never become a villain. He wouldn’t become a murderer- if he does, he definitely needs more incentive than what we can go off from canon.

And ohhh boy here we go, reaching the erm elephant in the room.

(These are the points made in the salt tag btw)

Is Villain!Hawks just an excuse to write hotwings? And what is the plausibility of Hawks turning to villainy? Would Endeavor being exposed as a child abuser be the trigger if Hawks were to turn villain at some point in the story?

Eh...

I don’t know if I even want to go into the whole “this is just an excuse to make hawks and dabi evil boyfriends” because I’ve never used villain!hawks as justification for that personally. And I’m actually not as attached to hotwings as I am to something like shigahawks... I don’t have any points to counteract this other than my desire to see Hawks interact with the entire league. Because it would be fun to see him interact in an environment he’s not wholly familiar with. With Endeavor or the other heroes or even the hero commission, he has some semblance of control or understanding so he thinks/acts like he knows what’s going on. 

Meanwhile, the League is a huge mess and they don’t have their shit together and wouldn’t it be funny to see Hawks as a part of their crew suffering with them!!! Well, that’s bias. My bias. For fanon. And for the jokes. So sad :(

So... I don’t just want to see more Dabi and Hawks interaction. I want to see more Hawks and League interaction. or just more hawks and anyone interactions overall. maybe thats all i crave

Actually going through the points one by one, let’s talk plausibility.

I already talked about villain!hawks being a... departure from Hawks’ faults in his own character. But it is pretty extreme, I’ll admit. If Hawks were ever to join the League of Villains, he’d probably never use killing as first resort. As we’ve seen in chapter 220, it’s not like the League targets only heroes... but i get the salt tag was made like 5 months ago so it’s not like new information hasn’t been released at the time of posting.

Reminds me of domestichobgoblins’ shigadabihawks fic where shigaraki even acknowledges “Whatever bullshit you’ve been telling Dabi, you aren’t a killer either, are you? So what, exactly, am I supposed to do with you?” And you know? The both are you are right. Hawks isn’t a killer and he wouldn’t become a killer willingly... unless he was pushed by some other greater force but I’m not here to address any of that. He could still provide support to the league in other ways, arguably, or just joining the league could be some kind of message to the heroes or supporters of hero society.

You are right to a degree. Hawks’ sole motivator to become a villain wouldn’t be because “OH ENDEAVOR IS AN ABUSER GUESS I GOTTA TURN EVIL NOW”.

Okay pushing past that, so why would Hawks be motivated to become a villain? In canon? I’ve already warped a lot of this post with my own fanon but I’m trying to keep within the realm of canon for this point specifically since you could take a second to push Hawks over the edge in fanon and be done with it. But why would Horikoshi specificially do it?

The fact is hero society sucks. A lot. And I think Hawks recognizes that fact being the most “grounded” and cynical of the bunch. His views and visions of hero society aren’t warped by fantasies and such (which is probably why he doesn’t like All Might...) so he understands what’s happening around him. He understands the mechanisms of hero society and how “valuable” quirks are viewed as in their capitalist society.

But also, he doesn’t  have that much of an option other than trying to lessen the burden placed upon him. Because he’s a single man, and even with his influence, he can’t change society. He’s powerless to do so, even considering who he is. He’s seen as a role model to those in society, but it’s because of his ranking that ironically fuels why people even look up to him: denouncing that would be kind of silly considering it’s the reason why people would listen in the first place.

And this is the point where I say... Shigaraki had a point. Hero society is flawed. It shouldn’t be so reliant on one person to carry it all.

But also hero society itself is bullshit. The ranking system? Horrible. The fact that the hero commission views them as tools for their own disposal? Horrible. The mere fact they basically bribe Hawks into becoming a hero? Like? “Hey kid you’re the best at being a hero so that’s what you should do. we’re only going to give you financial support if you become a hero so you might as well” like what is Hawks supposed to do in that sort of situation? Of course he’s going to succumb to the pressure.

I don’t believe in this whole “sacrifice for the greater good” bullshit. If Hawks wants to be a hero, that’s a whole another story, but if Hawks doesn’t, then he shouldn’t have been forced into that role. It’s about agency--it’s about letting him decide for himself if it’s what he wants to do. And it’s... a gray area for morality. “It’d be selfish for him to let people die!” Who is in the right to say whether or not he should use his “powers” for others’ sake? Me? You? The Hero commission?

So if Horikoshi goes down the path of “hey hero society is extremely bad and needs to change” and Hawks recognizes the League as a proponent for that change, then with a lot of development, it’s plausible in the future. I understand that Hawks, as of what we currently see, is too upheld by his own morals to ever even think about crossing that line, but people change. Hell, you recognized how the High End arc changed Endeavor and made miles of metas about it.

So, is it really far-fetched to say villain!Hawks is just a dream?

Maybe I’m a fool or an optimist, but I’d love to see Horikoshi take that path. Not because I’m horny for evil boyfriends, but it’d be a nice change of pace and we’d get to see a complete contrast of Hawks’ experiences. And it wouldn’t be easy-it’d had to be done right. Just like Endeavor’s redemption arc--if Horikoshi is still planning it. (Let’s be honest: High End Arc was not a formal redemption. I think it was Horikoshi letting the readers know “there might be something worth saving in Endeavor!” but i digress because i don’t care enough about endeavor (his character and redemption has 0 appeal to me and thats FINE. YOU DO YOU AND I DO ME, I only talk about him when it’s essential to talk about the influence he has on characters I DO care about).

As to why people like to characterize the moment Hawks decides to quit being a villain being attributed to Hawks learning Endeavor is an abuser...

The fallout, as mentioned earlier, could vary. A lot. Hawks really looked up to Endeavor when he was young. Again, shattering to find out something so nasty about the one you idolized.

To know that the one Hawks looked up used his wife just like how the hero commission used Hawks. Like an object or tool at their disposal. 

Would he be vengeful or spiteful towards Endeavor personally? To others, probably yes. To me? I’m kind of in the “eh” skeptical ballpark so I guess we somewhat agree on that. To me, Endeavor being exposed as an abuser would  crush that small slither of childish hope that hero society represents something bigger than themselves. Did Hawks ever get to have the childhood Deku had where he was still cheering on the heroes from behind the screen, or did it get crushed just as quickly when he realized how hero society truly works?

Because hero society isn’t bigger than themselves. It shouldn’t be idolized so heavily as it is presented in BNHA.

At least, not in its current state. And people who don’t fit in that group or agree with its ideals suffer the consequences. Like Shigaraki. Like Twice and Spinner. Like Gentle.

These are all villains that are products of society that promised to stamp out villains. And when Hawks realizes that it’s just a never ending cycle where the people left in between the cracks are the ones who perpetuate the system itself...

Like you said, Hawks sees the bigger picture. And his goal is to lessen the burden of the workload for heroes. There will never be a shortage of everyday criminals using their quirks for petty crimes but what about the bigger picture organizations? How are they going to be stopped? What about examining the root core of the problem and going from there? No more short-term solutions to problems... What can Hawks, mighty number two hero, do even at the expense of himself? Hmm... 

I don’t know, just some food for thought. Something I’ve seen done for villain!hawks is the hero commission throwing Hawks under the bus for some reason and Hawks either a) joins the league to gleam more information but finds himself willing to stay or b) has nowhere else to go and it’s more of a push for Hawks to orbit towards the League.

I am really thankful for your thoughts! Even though we don’t agree on things, I think discussion is still possible (whenever my anxiety stops bashing me in the head) and I’m always willing to accept I may be wrong about something. At this point in time (3/27/2019), we have less than 10 chapters released that centers around Hawks, but he’s certainly intrigued a lot of people considering he’s already #4 in popularity from so little chapters released! I think he and his introduction to BNHA represent the more cynical side of hero society that we haven’t been able to properly see from Deku’s perspective!

And I’m interested in what direction Horikoshi is going to take Hawks’ character in! The one thing I’m truly against is Hawks staying the “good little hero” in the end--whether he dies, becomes a villain, or hell even just stops being a hero is good enough for me. Free the bird or kill him off is what I’d want to see. That’d be enough of a character arc for me. Characters change, and it’d be silly to expect Hawks to stay the same especially since he has a lot of baggage on his shoulders and his current situation as a double agent for the League is precarious--despite him stating that he was willing to sacrifice his own reputation for the good of everyone, there’s no guarantee that he wouldn’t feel at least some degree of hurt over losing the respect of everyone and his colleagues. 

My thoughts are pretty clunky but maybe someone was able to gleam something from my stupid 5 am vent...

I love Dabihawks, even though I’m not as invested in it as say Shigahawks or ShigaDabiHawks (which I’m sure you’d definitely have objections to considering your other salt posts... but not something I want to address here), and I still think DabiHawks is a great ship more so because of the dynamic than the aesthetic. But hey, you ship what you ship, you are allowed to express your disdain for the ship--I’ve certainly expressed my own disdain for the your ship in the past--and your salt posts which probably took like 10 minutes to type out provoked me to type out my own thoughts which took like 2 hours to fully process. Like I said earlier: you do you, I do me.

And again-- I’m not trying to “defend” here nor am I trying to “attack”. I just had things I wanted to say and I hope I DON’T have the attitude of someone looking down on you, because I think you have very valid opinions and thoughts and sometimes discourse can just be healthy discussions about how we interpret different characters. We are literally squeezing everything we can out of one character we love and there’s enough room for different interpretations of the same character ^^ If anything, I actually look up to you, which is why I’m too much of a coward to send this to you because oh my god i am so embarrassed about a lot of the shit that comes out of my mouth and i constantly worry about if im saying wrong things even though im open to people telling me why  im wrong about said things. 

tdlr; villains hawks very good. has nothing to do with dabihawks. villain hawks very good on its own. I agree with tumblr user on a lot of things, yet we see differently on other things. The world keeps spinning--I think it’s more interesting to address differences in opinions rather than ignore them. 

(the person this post was meant for will probably never see this unless i send it to them to whcih im like oh my god what if they roast me to hell and back despite me claiming yes i amn ot trying to destroy them or their reputation i just want to talk about this because i had fun trying to think about why i love villain hawks so much aaaaa maybe i am just a delusional fangirl but im also a delusional fangirl who wrote multiple paragraphs about this so... /shrug)

end. again please dont interact. if you want to talk to me about it, inbox/dm me but i dont want this post to get notes. thank you. hides what have I done... 

this has been sorta meta but not really just chicken fucking around at 6 am and good night. maybe sometime in the next... month... ill have the courage to send this to the tumblr user. maybe when i have confidence... or maybe when i make mel look this over. that was a joke- she couldnt even finish my other meta piece which was shorter than this. :)

[analyzingdestiel]

DESTIEL REVIEW 4X21: When the Levee Breaks

Hello. I am continuing to review each episode featuring anything significant between Dean and Castiel. You can find previous reviews in my blog on here. I call them "Destiel reviews" because that's exactly what they are; the goal is for me to analyze each scene that may be relevant to the Destiel pairing and to decide from there whether or not it is believable for me.

(I clearly state "for me" because I know that each person perceives things differently and what might seem canon for them may not seem canon for me. Opinions vary.)

That being said, I have gone into this with a fresh set of eyes (having not seen the episodes I'm analyzing) and a lack of want (I do not ship Destiel), which I feel is important in analyzing this correctly.

I go in with the question: is it as believable as all Destiel fans make it seem?

Considering how many seasons and episodes there are, this won't take a short while, but I am willing to take the time to analyze it considering I enjoy the show, the characters and I also enjoy analyzing.

I'll explain my process.

1.) I watch the episode. 2.) I find the script for the episode. 3.) I select, copy and paste all scenes from the script involving Dean, Castiel, or both. Only those that are relevant to determining how believable is the Destiel pairing. 4.) I re-watch those particular scenes. 6.) I analyze them. 7.) I give a rating from 1-10 based on how believable the pairing is after the episode.

1/10 = Far From Canon

10/10 = It Is Canon

We are currently at 4/10 after episode 4x20.

Enjoy and let me know if there's anything you feel I should have analyzed but didn't. You could even tell me what your opinions in particular are. I'm curious.

Oh and I felt it was significant to mention that minds certainly can be invaded. Castiel meets Dean is his dreams as we already know and he said that they were not safe even there. So minds can certainly be entered, though it does not mean they do it consistently. I felt this was important to state because in previous episodes it was a question whether or not there was mental privacy. Apparently Castiel can enter Dean's mind whenever he wants, and so can anyone else. Also, we've seen by glances in previous episodes that the angels communicate telepathically. Perhaps when Castiel stares at Dean, what he's doing is reading his mind?

********************************************************************************************************************************************************************

SCENE 1

DEAN Well, it's about time. I've been screaming myself hoarse out here for about two and a half hours now.

CASTIEL What do you want?

DEAN You can start with what the hell happened in Illinois.

CASTIEL What do you mean?

DEAN Cut the crap. You were gonna tell me something.

CASTIEL Well, nothing of import.

DEAN You got ass-reamed in heaven but it was not of import?

CASTIEL Dean, I can't. I'm sorry. Get to the reason you really called me. It's about Sam, right?

DEAN Can he do it? Kill Lilith, stop the apocalypse?

CASTIEL Possibly, yes. But as you know, he'd have to take certain steps.

DEAN Crank up the hell-blood regimen.

CASTIEL Consuming the amount of blood it would take to kill Lilith would change your brother forever. Most likely, he would become the next creature that you would feel compelled to kill. There's no reason this would have to come to pass, Dean. We believe it's you, Dean, not your brother. The only question for us is whether you're willing to accept it. Stand up and accept your role. You are the one who will stop it.

DEAN If I do this, Sammy doesn't have to?

CASTIEL If it gives you comfort to see it that way.

DEAN God, you're a dick these days.

DEAN walks a few steps away and sighs.

DEAN Fine, I'm in.

CASTIEL You give yourself over wholly to the service of God and his angels?

DEAN Yeah, exactly.

CASTIEL Say it.

DEAN I give myself over wholly to serve God and you guys.

CASTIEL You swear to follow his will and his word as swiftly and obediently as you did your own father's?

DEAN Yes, I swear. Now what?

CASTIEL Now you wait, and we call on you when it's time. (They stare at one another.)

********************************************************************************************************************************************************************

DESTIEL REVIEW OF SCENE 1

DEAN Well, it's about time. I've been screaming myself hoarse out here for about two and a half hours now.

Dean shows us that he still has put his trust in Castiel. He's still praying to him and asking for his assistance.

DEAN Cut the crap. You were gonna tell me something.

CASTIEL Well, nothing of import.

DEAN You got ass-reamed in heaven but it was not of import?

CASTIEL Dean, I can't. I'm sorry.

In the previous episode, Castiel met Dean in his dream telling him that he needed to tell him something important. Castiel was then removed from the vessel (apparently very painfully) and was "ass-reamed". Basically he got in trouble.

When Castiel returns to the body, he states that he does NOT serve Dean. He serves Heaven. He went from considering disobedience for Dean and humanity, to being absolutely fearful and making clear that he works for Heaven.

In this scene here, from episode 4x21, Castiel makes it clear that he does still want to help Dean. He hasn't changed inwardly. He has only changed outwardly. He is avoiding his inner voice yet again because he is fearful of what might happen if he does go against Heaven.

DEAN God, you're a dick these days.

Dean used to refer to Castiel as a "dick" around when they first met. Apparently he didn't feel that way any longer and now he's gone back to that. "These days" meaning, Dean hadn't considered him a dick in a while. This was apparent as we did see Dean began to open up to Castiel, pity Castiel and trust Castiel. They had something that was on the verge of friendship.

At the end of this scene, they stare at each other for quite a long time. Castiel is always the one to start these staring sessions. Castiel's staring feels quite penetrative and knowing and I do wonder if he's reading Dean's mind. If the angels are able to communicate telepathically, it would make sense that Castiel can read Dean's mind. One may also wonder whether or not he's sending Dean mental messages or vibrations. Again, this could be how Dean knows of Castiel's presence even when he doesn't see him. And perhaps this is why Dean stares back, because they are communicating in one way or another. Communication does not need to be limited to words; Castiel could be sending Dean feelings and sensations perhaps to help him understand. Castiel could be sending Dean his own feelings. It could be wordless and Dean may not even be aware of what Castiel is doing. Dean may perceive it as a thought or feeling of his own.

Dean may also stare back just because he doesn't like backing down, though it feels to be something more than that. It feels more like they are "linking".

In Heaven, this is most likely the way of communication; they don't have an actual physical form or speech, so in Heaven it would be vibrations, and sensations. Energetic shifts.

*******************************************************************************************************************************************************************

DESTIEL REVIEW FOR THE EPISODE OVERALL

Not much has changed since previous episodes. They still have more of a bond than they did in the first episodes. The switch seemed to happen around 4x16 though we were given glimpses prior.

Though Castiel is still fighting the battle; do I follow Heaven's orders or my own? One could say "his own" are also Dean's. It's because of Dean that he ever started doubting in the first place. It's because of Dean that he began feeling "emotion". That in itself is perhaps why a lot of people ship Dean and Castiel.

DESTIEL RATING (based on how believable): 4/10

[justalittlelitnerd]

The Lady’s Guide to Petticoats and Piracy by Mackenzi Lee

You deserve to be here. You deserve to exist. You deserve to take up space in this world of men

Also:  Felicity Montague, you are a cactus.

This book is the feminist anthem you didn’t know you needed. Actually, no, scratch that it’s the human rights (and sometime even animal rights) anthem you didn’t know you needed. It tackles race, religion, sexuality, gender, and probably any other slightly controversial topic under the sun. 

It is unabashed and recognizes flaws within arguments and defenses and it doesn’t try to say one way of life or being is better than another but they all simply deserve to exist.

If that isn’t enough to compel you maybe the fact that it is set in England (actually all over Europe really) back in the olden days (honest to God can’t remember what time period but the aforementioned petticoats probably gives you a clue) with pirates and sea dragons (it’s not as mystical as it sounds but still slightly magical) will be enough to compel you to pick up this book. Because you should. Like right now. 

It’s hard to be raised in a world where you’re taught to always believe what men say without doubting yourself at every step.

So I loved the first book in this series (The Gentleman’s Guide to Vice and Virtue) and was super excited when I heard there would be one focusing on Felicity because I wanted more from her character. However, that doesn’t mean I wasn’t apprehensive because all too often the sequel is not as good as the original.

I’m pleased to report that, in my opinion, is not the case here. The Lady’s Guide is every bit as funny and poignant and socially relevant as The Gentleman’s Guide, in fact, it felt even more relevant to me as a woman who could identify strongly with Felicity’s character. But don’t worry there’s still plenty of Monty and Percy present in the story. 

I have learned that men respond best to nonthreatening women whose presence and space in the world does not somehow imperil their manhood, and so, as much as it pains me, I put on a smile so big it hurts my face and try to think like Monty, which is infuriating.

My favorite part of this novel is that Lee resists the urge to submit Felicity to the standard YA Romance storyline. That may have been what gave me the most apprehensive since the first novel implied that she was asexual, or at the very least more interested in her career than a marriage, and I was worried that having a story strictly about her would make Lee feel pressured to give her a romance. I will admit at times it felt like it was going to fall into that trap, but then it would turn around to show how it was just Felicity feeling the pressures of society.

When stripped of the illegalities and the Biblical condemnation, their [Monty and Percy’s] attraction is no stranger to me than anyone’s attraction to anyone.

The Lady’s Guide picks up about a year after the end of The Gentleman’s Guide with Felicity in Edinburgh working at a bakery trying to appeal to various hospitals and school to allow her entrance to no avail.

A year of men telling me I am incapable of this work only gives my pride a more savage edge, and I feel, for the first time in so many long, cold, discouraging months, that I am as clever and capable and fit for the medical profession as any of the men who have denied me a place in it.

The tipping point is when the man at the bakery who has helped her for the last year decides it is time to propose. This sends Felicity into a sort of tailspin because she’s not willing to give up on her dream yet but everyone around her is telling her she should settle down and be married and she’s starting to wonder if they are right. 

Which gave him the idea that men often get in their heads when a woman pays some kind of attention to them: that it was a sign I want him to smash his mouth -- and possibly other body parts -- against mine. Which I do not.

She makes the impulsive decision to travel to London to see Monty and Percy and appeal to medical boards there to grant her admission. However, once again she is denied and practically laughed out of the room for her ideas of becoming a doctor.

“You’re so determined to become a lady doctor then,” he says. “No, sir,” I reply, “I’m determined to become a doctor. The matter of my sex I would prefer to be incidental rather than an amendment.”

Their exclusionary policies rest entirely on the fragility of their own masculinity, but it doesn’t matter because they’re men and I’m a woman so it’s not even going to be a fight and it was never going to be a fight.

But this time one of the doctors recommends she reach out to Doctor Alexander Platt for mentorship which through a series of events leads her to befriending a Black Muslim Hijabi pirate named Sim and going off on a new adventure. Along the way, she encounters an old friend which brings to the forefront the intricacies of feminism. Because really that is what this book is all about in the end. Three women all fighting for their place in this world of men who try to tell them their only place is in the household.   

He has me apologizing for asking for the minimum that is granted to most men.

It turns out that Platt is set to wed Felicity’s childhood friend, Johanna, which she decides to use to get a meeting with him. However, it’s revealed that Felicity and Johanna had a falling out over their differing views on femininity and what it means to be a strong woman. 

You stopped taking me seriously when I stopped being the kind of woman you thought I had to be to be considered intelligent and strong. All those things you say make men take women less seriously -- I don’t think it’s men; it’s you. You’re not better than any other woman because you like philosophy better than parties and don’t give a fig about the company of gentlemen, or because you wear boots instead of heels and don’t set your hair in curls.

Johanna is still strong and intelligent and independent and she likes wearing dresses and makeup and heels and flirting with boys and those things are not incompatible, but a lot of times it’s a sticking point in feminism. Somewhere along the way there became this belief (which Felicity believes) that to be a feminist, to be strong woman standing up to men, you couldn’t also be traditionally feminine. It takes almost the whole novel for Felicity to realize that Johanna is not any less strong and intelligent because she subscribes to traditional gender roles/beauty standards and it takes her even longer to be willing to admit she is wrong.

I have spent so long building up my fortress and learning to tend it alone, because if I didn’t feel I needed anyone, then I wouldn’t miss them if they weren’t there. I couldn’t be neglected if I  was everything to myself. But now, those fortifications suddenly feel like prison walls, high and barbed and impossible to cross.

To be honest the relationships formed between and the battles waged by Sim, Felicity, and Johanna are more than enough reason to read this novel. But Lee decides to make it even better by throwing in scientific discoveries, men stealing women’s credit, danger, and a fight on the open seas reminiscent of any pirate movie. 

It’s not hopelessness, it’s just pure stubbornness. Not even so much a will to live as a refusal to die. Not yet, not now, not here, not when we have so much left to do. There isn’t a goddamned chance I’m dying on this rig.

It turns out that before she died, Johanna’s mom discovered a new species with Platt that honestly sound like sea monsters, something half dragon half snake like? And that the scales of these sea dragons can be used as drugs (both medicinally and recreationally). Platt wants to exploit the dragons while Sim’s family has sworn to protect them at all costs. The women band together to plot against both Platt’s exploitations and Sim’s father’s stubbornness against progression.

Everyone has heard stories of women like us -- cautionary tales, morality plays, warnings of what will befall you if you are a girl too wild for the world, a girl who asks too many questions or wants too much. If you set off into the world alone. Everyone has heard stories of women like us, and now we will make more of them.

Of course, they succeed in both tasks and along the way decide maybe they should get their own ship and go on their own research voyages including exploring more about the sea dragons. 

I am filled suddenly by that wanting, to know things, to understand the world, to feel myself in it.

In the company of women like this -- sharp-edged as raw diamonds but with soft hands and hearts, not strong in spite of anything but powerful because of everything -- I feel invincible. Every chink and rut and battering wind has made us tough and brave and impossible to strike down. We are mountains -- or perhaps temples, with foundations that could outlast time itself.

I know this was a long review filled with an overabundance of quotes, but I hope that just shows how good this book is. I read it a month ago and am just now writing this and still find myself remembering it vividly despite the fact that I’ve read maybe 5 books since then. So do me, and yourself, a favor and go out to read this book (I’m even okay if you skip the first one though I promise you’ll regret it if you do). 

You are Felicity Montague, I tell myself, and the darkness, and my heartbeat, in an attempt to rein it in. You have climbed through catacombs darker than this, you escaped from a second-story window with only your bedsheets, and you should not be frightened of the darkness, but instead be sure that the most frightening thing in it is you.

Bonus:

- The chairman tosses his cloak over his shoulders and gives me a smile that he likely thinks is kind, but is, in fact the smirk of a man about to explain something to a woman that she already knows.

- Humans have instincts specifically for situations like this. Everything in me is saying there is danger lurking in this forest, eyes bright and hungry through the dark.

-  Below is an unhelpful drop to the street -- no footholds, ledges, or loose bricks promised by every fiction book I have ever read. Not even a convenient hedge to drop into.

-  Charming is not a word I’d use -- or ever want used -- to describe me, but the way she says it prickles me. It’s the sort of thing I feel entitled to say disparagingly about myself, but from someone else, it feels blunt and unkind.

- Zounds, does this fool actually think he’s saving me? Another storybook hero to swoop in and rescue a girl from a dragon or a monster or herself -- they’re all the same. A woman must be protected, must be sheltered, must be kept from the winds that would batter her into the earth.

- I can do more than memorize maps of vessels and arteries and bones; I can solve the puzzle of what to do when those pieces come apart. I can write my own treaties. I am a girl of steady hands, stout heart, and every book I have ever read.

[rixxy8173571m3w1p3]

September Song (3/3)

I'm sorry @kitten-wrath that this took so long, but I do hope you like it. @hoodoo12 @xerxezra thanks for brainstorming with me. By the way, @kitten-wrath there's a reference to one of your fics. I'm sure you'll know it immediately, but to those that don't the read her fic here (Link to referenced fic)

I'm really proud of this fic. It references many of my other fics since most of them being to my Fluffy Adventures With Your Boyfriend Doofus Rick series. I would list all the references, but there's too many. Though, I can list a few of the bigger references for context (Sentimental Reasons, As The World Falls Down, The Little Big Things)

Also, special thanks go to @her-victori for reading a majority of my fics in a short span of time. You Rock! As well to random anons who leave me sweet words in my ask box.

If you haven't read the first or second of this fic then here's the link. (Read Part1 Here) (Read Part2 Here)

In this fic the reader tries to be more reserved and mature for Rick, but what will he think?

______________

Chapter 3: One hasn't got time

Random fish jumped out of the water, a cricket jumped over his foot, and there you two were amidst the music of the night. You sat on the hood of his car, swinging your feet back and forth, wondering what was going on inside of that head of his. You knew Zeta-7 was studying you, with one his hands in his pocket while the other held your heels, half hidden by the darkness. Was he worried you were going to walk barefoot on the gravel, or preoccupied with the state of your naked feet? Might've been the shade of nail polish you had on your toes, or simply he was thinking of a completely unrelated topic; of which you may never know. Nonetheless, you were compelled to apologize again in order to fill up the gap of conversation. “Rick, I really am sorry if I ruined our date. I should've just talked to you about how I was feeling.”

Walking around the car, placing your discarded heels in the back seat, Zeta-7 opened the trunk and searched around until he found what he was looking for. “Y-y-you didn't ruin our date,” he assured, dropping on one knee beside you so he could slip his sandals on your feet. “you saved it. It's - it's one less thing t-to worry about. Boy, I'm glad I-I still had a pair of flip flops in the trunk. They sure came in handy.”

“How long have those been in there.”

“I'd say a-a few months.”

A few months probably meant they'd been in there since that time you two went to the beach. You checked your now sandaled foot, giggling at the dramatic size differences between your foot and the sandal. “Hmm, I guess this means I'm not Cinderella; the slipper doesn't fit. That's a good thing because prince charming is so not my type.”

When he stood back up, he wondered. “Then what is y-your type?”

You'd think he'd by now that you had never been crazy about guys. Sure, in your teen years you had your random crushes on the guys in your art and science class, but nothing specific came to mind as to why they were appealing to you; you had other more activities which kept you happily diverted. And now, taking in the sharp lines of his suit, and eager want of understanding, you felt your heart flutter as it did when he was especially attractive to you. It wasn't so much in his appearance but in the feelings you had when light-hearted, casual sweetness flitted across the lines of romanticism; when smart, witty repartee translated to golden words, soft touches, and knowing. But to Rick, he needed both the conscious and unconscious understanding; the affirmation that you held him in high regard. “That's a good question Ricky. You know it's not goblin kings or fire-breathing dragons who are cursed princes in disguise, neither is it swimsuit models, or rock stars, and never villains. Honestly, I didn't know I had a type until I met someone who challenged the conventional rules.”

With raised brow, he shifted his weight to his other foot, pleasantly intrigued. “Is th-that so?”

Why the smartest man in the universe had to doubt the validity of his place in your heart and skeptical when varying parties voiced conflicting opinions would perhaps be the ongoing mystery, but you dare not hurt him further. “It is. I like people who are comforting, who can cook and garden. Maybe they'll tell me silly stories, and make me tea before they say goodnight. Being multilingual never hurt, and if they have a cute stutter, they might as well kill me with cuteness when paired with darling buck teeth. Hmm, reminds me of a certain mountain king I knew once upon a dream. Though the only difference between him and you is that he was very lonely, and as for you, I hope you'll never have to be again.”

You looked up at him, with cheeks flaming after this sort confession, finding that your usual open affections were a mix teasing and simple flirtations, but you looked away from his burning, but altogether odd gaze of his since your heart beated wildly in your chest from it; for a great deal of the time, you two were very casual with one another as you had been when you were just friends. Zeta-7 stepped closer, and put his hand under your chin and lifted your face to look at it keenly. “With you,” he smiled protectingly before he pressed a kiss on your forehead. “I-I-I never will be.”

You certainly hoped so. “Rick, I think it's getting late. Should we call it a night?”

“Are y-you tired?”

“Not in the slightest. Why? Feeling like an adventure?”

“Not exactly, but can I take y-you somewhere?”

“Sure. As long as you're there, then I don't mind.”

_______________

You snuggled into his side, trying to steal as much warmth as you could. “Since when did you have a hammock?”

“Since th-this morning. Do you like it?”

“I love it. Especially since it gives me an excuse to just come over and chill in the backyard. Maybe do a little bird watching, flirt with the gardener. You know.”

“Gosh, y-you can come over whenever you want. Mi casa es s-su casa. Remember?”

His home was your home? Well, you always felt it was in a way. As ever there was a feeling of unchangingness about the night sky, and with you two returning to the general lazy routine that was as delightful as it was elusive, you wondered how you were going to convince yourself to leave the comfort of his arms. You were happy that he chose to allow tonight's events go, and focus on the good parts, but while things changed at a steady pace, there were moments like this and in between, like at the ice cream shop which made you conscious of his want of family; of intimacy; of closeness to chase away all the lonely shadows which were always around the corner. You owed him a great deal, and honestly, you were in want of those things too. “I'm happy that you say that Rick,” you answered matter of factly. “because I can't wait for the day when it really is. Well, whenever you're home is ready to receive me.”

The hand which had been absentmindedly rubbing your arm stopped. And again, you heard him sniffle as was typical when he was emotional, and his heart was beating a little fast. You sincerely hoped you wouldn't hurt him with all this excitement. And when he calmed a little, he turned his body to face you, smiling softly at this possibility. “I-I-I look forward to that day too.”

________________

Pots and pans are moved around, and he began to make his special brew. Unlike the mediocre ingredients which you had in your home, Zeta-7 had some of the freshest, and most potent herbs and spices which could be found in this part of the world. If you hadn't known better you'd say they were brought straight from India, and then to your surprise, he proceeded to tell you that they were, and how he regularly visits when he can. With delight, he tells of the exotic culture, of its people, the food, and the points of interest that would never be found in travel pamphlets; painting scenes and landscapes.

Like always he knew how to match your mood to a flavor, and give you just what you needed. From the cabinets, and from the pantry he retrieved what he needed, and lined them up on the counter. Whole cloves, green cardamom pods, cinnamon sticks, which he breaks into pieces, freshly chopped ginger, ground nutmeg, white peppercorns, star anise, and loose black tea. Soon, the air was full of spices, and the Masala Tea was near completion; it was your favorite and made you think of many other similar times when you two sat together over tea to discuss many a topic which was suitable to talk about in the evening. With care, Rick poured his concoction into your new mug, and he poured his into a Shoney's mug and lightened both with milk, and sweetened them with honey. With the spoon he used to stir, he tasted it to be sure, then held it out to you. “I hope it's t-to your liking.”

“You know it always is, for you know what I like.” The first sip is heavenly, and you sigh happily as he watches you in amusement. “Rick, what's so funny?”

He holds your gaze for a moment, before he chuckles. “It's a-a secret.”

You stuck out your tongue, but he doesn't relent and goes on to drinking his tea. Zeta-7 can be a tease when he wanted to be, but he isn't so unkind as to not apologize. “I'm sorry, I-I-I don't mean to offend you or anything, but I'd love to make it up to you if you'd let me. I um - I got something for you.”

Pulling several small boxes from his inner suit pockets, which were definitely bigger in the inside, he handed them to you. “When I was on Mars last month, I saw a few things that reminded me of you. Do you want t-t-to know what they are?”

“Rick, you didn't have to do this. You spoil me enough as it is, but I would like to know.”

“Gosh, I wanted t-t-to do it. After all, y-you are my favorite.”

“I better be.” you winked. “Should I open it now?”

“If y-y-you want to. I hope y-you will like them.”

”

Taking a deep breath, you carefully unwrapped the sparkly gift paper and opened the first box which had a precious rose quartz apple brooch that you had only seen on TV. “Is this what I think it is?”

“Almost. Y-you see, on Mars, they manufacture a-a lot of - many similar products which you could find on Earth, except they tend t-to be more technological. This, for example, was originally made t-to act as a decorative cooling device for those really hot Martian days, but I modified it t-to do this.”

Cupping your hands with his, you gasped as it warmed your hands, and an inner calm took over you. He continued. “It'll calm you down any time you feel overwhelmed, and it doubles as a-a hand warmer. All y-you have to do is think good thoughts, and it'll magnify them.”

Unable to see where the hidden technology and mechanisms were, you wondered. “Is it magic?”

“Hohoho, if y-you want it to be. I-I-I know you don't - don't always like how you're meds make y-you feel and I wanted you to be able to be comfortable. And it'll come in handy when winter comes a-around.”

Trying it for yourself, it made you wonder as it soothed you if he had used properties from those empathic plants that existed on the planet with the ioculus and giant flowers. Who knows, but it felt wonderful, like a balm for your soul. Opening the next box, there was a hair clip in the shape of a puppy dragon. “Oh my goodness,” you gasped. “this is just too precious. Rick, what did you…how did you... ”

“I-I know how much you love them. It's not like th-the real thing, but it's c-cute isn't it?”

You didn't hesitate to clip it on your hair, feeling your smile growing. “Its freaking adorable. Sweet, sweet cookie man, please tell me they make other jewelry with similar designs.”

“Hohoho, they do but th-they sort of double as weapons. The hair clip can only summon them when th-they are within range of-of course.”

“What if I wanted to be queen of the puppy dragons? You never know, maybe I'm a dangerous woman. I can be ferociously adorable. When I want to be.”

Zeta-7 seemed to be considering this idea, and you had to poke him to make him realize you had simply been joking; mostly joking. The last box which laid on your lap was a bit heavier, and there were several layers of holographic tissue paper you had to peel away before you finally saw what it was. You felt tears prick at the back of your eyes sight of it; a miniature glass terrarium necklace, with a shrunken sunflower that had an iridescent shimmer on its petals.“You couldn't have bought this. Did you make it?”

“I-I did for the most part. That's a hybrid sunflower that can only be found on the Citadel, and I used metals that can rival gold and silver in its durability. It's - I-I-I could go into the mechanics of it, but I-I think that would ruin the surprise. M-mi corazón, if-if you look inside you'll see what I-I see when I think of you.”

Staring at it intently, it took a retina scan to verify the user, and then you saw clips of his memories of you. You saw yourself from his perspective, dancing around him while wearing your hello kitty pajamas; of you all sniffly and sick on the couch; that time you had flour on your cheeks after your failure in baking; of you blowing kisses; of you fast asleep amongst all the plants of his conservatory; of your joy as you pointed to things from the ferris wheel; of your hands as you touched up his makeup on his arms; of painting; of your tears and surprise; of huddling for warmth; of feeding his turtles; of you standing in the rain, drenched from head to toe; of you handing him clover; of your right above him, tickling and kissing him in the grass; of your Rick cosplay; of you standing in the half light of the moon; as a princess, confused as to who was who as you stepped into the ballroom; of hundreds of butterflies shielding you; trying to hide a shameless amount of candy; of you commanding plants to your will; of you sitting on the ground with a scraped knee and mess of Doritos and very surprisingly of you as a child handing him a rose from your father's garden before it all faded away. “I can't believe this.” you gasped, looking away in favor of Rick. “You've met me before?”

Scratching the back of his neck, he confessed sadly. “Yeah.”

“So when you said it wasn't the first time you waited for me, then what? You really did meet me as a child? In this dimension?”

“It's a-a long story. You probably wouldn't even remember.”

“Why didn't you say anything?”

“For very similar reasons as t-to why I had to wait in your dream. It's - I've known a-about you even before y-you were born, but that's - that's a-a different story for another day. As I said, it's a-a-a really long story, but I promise t-t-to tell you everything.”

He saw you grow up in real life and in a dream, he must have known about you for years. And yet, he waited. Why? That brought up so many other questions, but for now, you only considered him with a softer, deeper affection. “You're full of surprises aren't you? Always one step ahead of me. I'd say that's not fair, but I don't have a right to. You always have a good reason. You….you really do know me, don't you?”

Feeling warm lips on your temple, he chuckled. “N-n-not everything, but I like t-to try. I doubt anyone could know everything, but I- I like you. I-I-I know you could do better, but I just want you.”

“To think that all I wanted was for you to like me more.”

“Hohoho, I doubt I-I could like you less. Y-you're everything to me.”

Leaning down towards you, he captured your mouth in a firm kiss, and you tugged on his tie to bring him closer. He tasted like cardamom and promises, was everything and you couldn't think of a better way to end your date, but then to you disappointment, you heard the familiar sound of a portal and a couple of guard Ricks stepped through; their dimension numbers worn prominently on thier chests. “Yo ding dong, breaks over. They need you back in the lab pronto!” And when they fully stepped into the kitchen, they joked amongst themselves about how such a good for nothing Rick be capable of knowing what to do with a woman, let alone be so well acquainted with one.

Zeta-7 visibly winced at their laughter since they had come at an inopportune time, but for your sake tried to remain strong. “I-I-I guess our date really is over.”

“It was nice while it lasted.”

“Come on Doofus,” yelled the head guard. “we don't have all day. You can play with her later.”

“I'm - I'm sorry about this,” he whispered. “I sh-should have told you that there was a-a chance of being called into work.”

“Don't worry, I'm sure they need you for something really important. You know I'll be here when you come back. Don't you? I'll be fine, really I will be. Be careful Ricky. I love you.”

Pulling you into a tight hug, he was hesitant to let you go, but at the urging of his superior, he let go with a frustrated sigh, removed his suit jacket, and grabbed his lab coat and followed after them. Once gone, you cleaned up, and wiped down the counters and table. Seeing his jacket, and not wanting it to wrinkle, you picked it up and hung it in the hallway closet. Though, once it was hung, you noticed a slight bulge in one of the inner pockets. You had a feeling, though thinking it could possibly be otherwise, you reached down, and pulled out a box; a single glance to confirmed it. Zeta-7 had intended to make an honest woman out of you.

With shaky hands, you slipped it over your ring finger, and felt hot tears run down your cheeks; you had possibly ruined his opportunity to propose. When you felt that you had worn it for an inappropriate amount of time, you pulled it off and placed it back in the box; it wasn't yours yet. You two only wanted to make each other happy, but there would always be obstacles and peculiar incidents along the way. And this….you certainly hope he wouldn't change his mind and try again; whenever that time would be.

Fin

[serenagaywaterford]

1) Hey, it's me again. The idiot rambling anon. I wasn't gonna spam you again, but then I read your responses. At this point, I'm convinced you're my alter ego, lol. My thoughts are all over the place, but I'll try to organize them. So, about Nick. I've purposely avoided talking about him so far, but why the hell not? Let me make one thing clear: I'm NOT of of those thirsty fangirls. But even if I was? I wouldn't get offended or butthurt, because another person likes different fictional

2) characters (of all things) than me. I mean, big fucking deal. Each to their own, no need for apologies. ;) (My tone is a little aggressive, I know, but I’m sick and tired of some people on social media –in and out of fandoms– acting holier-than-thou and sending hate messages and even actual death threats (!) to creators or people that express unpopular opinions*. It’s reached a point where many people feel the need to put disclaimers in their posts so as not to be attacked.)

3) Back to Nick. I liked him just fine back in early S1, when he was all mysterious and his background story was unknown to us. When we did learn about it and the fandom started acting like he’s that pure, handsome angel uwu? Nah. Obviously, he’s no Fred/Serena/Lydia,but he’s not a “cinnamon roll” either. (Imo, the only decent dude on that show is Luke.) I mean, if Nick was SO altruistic, he wouldn’t have joined this job. Or even after everything went down, he could have tried to help other

4) handmaids without expecting anything in return. But no, he only helps June and that’s because he’s in love with her. I’m not blaming him for trying to survive under such circumstances, but I won’t idolize him either. Now, in s2? I’m kinda neutral about him. I don’t hate him, but I can’t say that I’m a fan either. Not gonna lie, he bores me at times, because he’s just… there. No sparks, no fireworks. Not sure if it’s the writing that doesn’t do the actor any favors, but his acting hasn’t

5) really drawn me in yet. A counterexample to this? Aunt Lydia. Her personality is despicable 98% of the time and yet. Dowd’s captivating performance makes me want to know so much more about her character.) On the other hand, I’m glad that June has someone (besides Rita) to back her up in that hellhole. She needs comfort and allies. But the whole ‘tRu Love 5eva" fanon thing? No, thanks. Not only it doesn’t fit the tone of the series, but I also believe that sharing an intense, forbidden love/

6) during such a shitstorm is not the same thing as keeping it alive after all is said and done (post-Gilead). Maybe they’ll stay together (as long as Nick doesn’t die), maybe they’ll fall apart. I can’t really see June romantically reconnecting with Luke either. After everything she’s been through… She’s a completely different person now. Unfortunately, the same things goes for Emily and her wife. Even though I’d love to see her interact with both her wife and her child in S3.

———

My inbox is so beautiful right now! Never, ever call yourself an idiot, my friend. (If you are, then so am I!) Brain twins, you see.

(Also sorry about this being out of order lol.)

I was trying not to talk about him too cos generally I just … I prefer not to think about him much. The fangirls, just, *sigh*. I try to avoid as much as possible in this fandom, esp on tumblr. Just hang out in my quiet little, not-Serena-hating corner. I always feel a need to put disclaimers these days cos as much as I don’t really care about random hate, I’d prefer not to have to deal with dogpiles or to look at it lmao. Like people can go around just hating on any character here–especially if they’re women–but say one critical (not even hateful) thing about their male fav and things just go off. 

I’m more than aware the majority of people don’t like Serena and think she’s the worst thing ever. And fair play! (I get it… cos I’m not delusional. She’s awful.) Each to their own. I don’t go around bitching at people who say shitty things or stuff I don’t agree with, or blocking anybody who doesn’t like her. (There are a few posts I do engage with cos normally they seem like they want to go deeper in The Discourse but most Serena/Lydia/Eden/Janine/June-hate I just ignore.)

ITA. S1 was, like, okay. That’s Nick. What’s he up to? What’s his deal? (I don’t really care but I’m not opposed to him either. Just like I didn’t care about Luke’s backstory/escape.) He’s trying to be good to June and she needs that.When we did learn his backstory I was not pleased cos he seemed like a twerp but whatevs. Grey characters are grey. It wasn’t until S2 that I started to get irked by him (and the hypocrisy of his fans but that’s a whole other issue). 

I can’t agree ANY more with your assessment of Nick. Like that’s EXACTLY what I’ve been saying! Firstly, he was RIGHT THERE when the Handmaid/Ceremony thing was first suggested and was like “Oh, yeah, great idea!” to Fred. I get that perhaps he was pressured to go along to keep his job but that’s a stretch imo, and if you can give him that sort of leeway, why can’t characters like Eden, Serena, Lydia and June get the same benefit of the doubt for certain things? Why is Nick’s pressure to keep his job more important and forgivable than anybody else’s pressures? It’s like that entire scene doesn’t exist to fangirls and Nick is so precious and in love and wonderful. Then there’s the rape of June. Like I know it’s pretty controversial to look at it that way, but that first time, with Serena overseeing it like a fucking creepy pimp (YUUUUUUCCCKKKKK I HATE IT THANKS) was rape. June barely knew the guy and I’m pretty sure if she wanted to have sex with him it wouldn’t be like that! And sure, after that, it was totally consensual but that first time was not. And I’ve heard the justification and excuses of “Well, Nick didn’t have a choice either!” which I call bullshit on, cos Nick is not some powerless delivery boy. 

He’s a fucking Guardian who is tight with the top Commanders. He’s a man, if nothing else. Serena can act all high and mighty but she’s still a woman in a highly misogynistic society. I’m not convinced Fred would take his wife’s word over Nick’s tbh, especially if it was like “Dude, your crazy wife asked me to fuck the Handmaid you’re obsessed with”. If he really didn’t want to do it that badly, he could have taken that chance to report Serena. Even if Fred wanted to keep it hush hush away from other Commanders, he would have gone after Serena. Men are far more likely to turn on women than each other, esp in THT. But that’s just my take. Maybe I am missing something about Nick’s status. To me, it was like double rape. Neither of them wanted to do it, like that anyway. But Nick also did fuck all to stop it when IMO he did have some power to do something. He is not a helpless victim in that society, imo. Again, probably not a well-received opinion. 

Don’t even get me started on his “Poor me!” routine in S2 when June tells him to have sex with Eden. I’m glad she called him on that bullshit. (But again, over the fangirls heads. Enough about them!)

Basically, everything Nick has done wrong isn’t his choice; he’s just a victim. In a story about women, Nick’s victimhood at the hands of these nasty women and men is the real issue. Blah. Whatever.

I just find Nick lacks total self-awareness about being part of the shitty ass system. He kind of just floats around thinking nothing is his fault and he’s blameless for it all, and he certainly can’t seem to see it from anyone’s perspective except his own. He’s upset about Fred & June’s Jezebel trips, not for her own safety or well-being but mainly he’s jealous. Of course he’s concerned about her safety but I believe it takes a backseat to his jealousy. He just seems to never take any responsibility for anything.

And BINGO about the previous Handmaid. Nothing we’ve been shown has given any hint he cares about any other woman’s plight in Gilead other than June, and only cares about her cos he had a crush/fucked her/is in wuv wiv her. Basically, she’s HIS so suddenly he cares about her. Look how fast he dumped that Martha as soon as he got brooding about June. He’s done fuckall for anybody except himself and that alone makes me dislike him. He’s no better than Fred in that way for me. But where Fred can occasionally be an interesting villain, cos Fiennes is nasty good, I find the actor who plays Nick just… not engaging. And he’s not SUPPOSED to be a villain! He’s meant to be a good guy! It’s crazy. He’s not compelling, he’s not interesting. He’s bland. He’s not even good looking, lol. I was watching with a friend once and mention I thought Fred was way better looking than Nick and she just stared at me and said, “You shouldn’t say that. But me too.” So, count me in the camp that just does not get the appeal of the character OR the actor.

I don’t hate Nick generally. I am just totally indifferent to his existence. If he left the show tomorrow, I’d shrug and probably be a little glad I don’t have to see that bland moping anymore. If he stays, oh well. Shrug. And I just don’t want his and June’s star-crossed romance shoved down my throat. It’s so… I dunno. I’m not opposed to June finding solace and hope but making it some beautiful forbidden romance, I’m not buying it. Like you said, it’s all well and good in Gilead–but it doesn’t strike me as something that can be sustainable outside it. To borrow from you last time: It’s the Handmaid’s Tale, not The Guardian + the Handmaid’s Tale.

Okay, enough about that pipsqueak. I don’t even like talking about him, tbh. He’s not worth it when there’s so much else going on.

ITA about Luke/June too. I feel like the level of disconnection and trauma that they’ve sustained, especially June, they can try to reconnect but it’s pretty difficult and I think especially with June having a sexual/romantic relationship with Nick pulls that really tight. It’s just two different planets they live on now. I don’t doubt that she still loves Luke, but actually reforming the relationship they previously had seems like an impossible task considering everything both of them have been through. It’s sad, but … sadly true for many people. Relationships can fall apart for far less.

And on the same page about Emily/Sylvia too. She is just soooooo fucking broken, and hopeless, that if they have them just rekindle with no issues, it’ll be bad writing. (I dunno if you see spoilers but there’s one about them.) She needs therapy so much more than a cutesy feelgood storyline.

Back to Lydia: Exactly! There’s a character we know very little about and who is a horrible person, yet the performance by Dowd makes almost everyone go, “TELL ME MORE!” With Nick, it’s the opposite for me. I’m just like, “Please, less of this.”

[beerzandbarz]

Kanye West, Intersectionality, and what?

Whether it be from various music releases involving himself and others, or the political landscape within America, conversations and feelings regarding Kanye West are just about as enigmatic as his interviews. However, it wouldn’t be fair to start this writing with Kanye West as we know him from 2016 until now. In order to understand the wide scope of thoughts and opinions, we first must go back to a young music producer from Chicago, with an unparalleled ego and drive. Jay-Z’s “The Dynasty – Roc La Familia” album was released in October of 2000. I was a Jay-Z fan like most young black teenagers in America. I would buy the Roc-A-Wear gear, wear the silver chains as if they were platinum, and purchase albums from arguably the greatest rapper ever. The stand out single from the aforementioned project was “I Just Wanna Love U (Give it to Me)”, produced by the hottest track makers of the time; The Neptunes. The joint was flat out funky, from the drum loop and synth guitar, to the sexually suggestive hook performed by Pharrell and Omillio Sparks. As the 1st verse began, you had Jay-Z paying homage to the late/great Biggie Smalls rapping, “When the Remy’s in the system, ain’t no telling will I f*ck or will I diss em”, you probably know the rest. The premise of the album was a collaboration of Roc-A-Fella’s current artists, with Beanie Siegel, Memphis Bleek, and Jay-Z carrying most of the load.

For me though, it wasn’t the single that l fell in love with. As with most hip-hop albums, you typically find yourself playing the “album cuts” more than the singles. These are the songs that end up being more relatable, as the artist delves into deeper and more introspective topics. “This Can’t Be Life” was a song that featured Jay-Z, Beanie Siegel, and southern rap pioneer; Scarface. Each of them shared stories regarding their personal pain and suffering, exploring the harsh landscapes of their very existence. Each verse was heart felt, really playing to the title of the song and how rough life can be. What made the verses even more poignant was the musical background provided by Mr. West. A sped-up sample of Harold Melvin’s “I Miss You”, laid on top of a drum loop similar to Dr Dre’s “Xplosive”, provided the perfect marriage of beats and rhymes. It was soulful, gritty, simple, and refreshing. The portion of the song sampled, displaying the pain in the singer’s voice, was a perfect compliment to the pain demonstrated within the verses. This was my introduction to Kanye. From there, I followed along as he transformed from producer, to one of the most brilliant creators within Hip Hop. He was a champion. Someone that everyone loved as the underdog. A person that transcended the culture, and rose to prominence within Hip Hop simply because he believed in himself, and wouldn’t let anyone tell him what he couldn’t do.

Kanye was also very vocal. He said/did things at times when most wouldn’t dare. Everybody remembers the famous “George Bush doesn’t care about black people” statement during hurricane Katrina in 2005.  From a black perspective, it felt as if he was speaking for us, at a time when most felt as if the government’s response to hurricane Katrina was poor to say the least. Fast forward 13 years later, and the sentiments of the masses regarding Kanye are at the other end of the spectrum.

After the 2016 election, Kanye West came out publicly while on tour, saying that had he voted, he would have voted for President Trump. This year in an interview with TMZ, Kanye said the following regarding slavery: “400 years? That sounds like a choice”. Actions like these, amongst others, have kept Kanye in the public eye, and in countless conversations across the social media stratosphere. The once beloved Chicago artist seemed to be moving further and further away from the hearts of fans within the Hip Hop community. How could someone who once made the comment about George Bush, now publicly endorse a president who might be viewed in a much darker way, especially amongst the black community? However, many loyal fans continued to support the artist, citing that even though sometimes his message isn’t centered or easy to follow, there is usually something substantive to glean from his many controversial rants. My personal feelings regarding Kanye are very wide-ranging. I dared not to speak on Mr. West publicly, in fear of looking hypocritical by changing my stance based on some newly released interview of him down the road. However, I began to question if that fear was a bi-product of the politicized and polarized climate that we live in. This is a time where things such as civil discourse, nuance, and intersectionality are very rare. If you are conservative, you have to speak as a conservative at all times. If you are a liberal, you have to be liberal at all times. Right and left, black and white, gay and straight, male and female, are all things that sit at opposite ends of each other, with no middle ground in sight.  Someone stepping outside of their identity group, and speaking a different language, regardless of any intent may come as a detriment.  This is why the idea of someone wearing a MAGA hat, while sporting a Colin Kaepernick sweater can seem like the most insane thing ever. This is why going to sit in front a villainous president, being apart of a culture that is supposed to represent the disenfranchised, is completely off limits.

Some of today’s foremost public intellectuals are wary that the current political climate, may very well leave us ripe for even tougher times ahead; societally changing times. These are the thoughts of those that believe in free-speech, conversation and debate around complex ideas, and belief that truth and honesty are paramount. They might also say that these things are fading. So how does Kanye West play into this you might ask? Well, at that level…. I am not sure if he does. However, I find the entire Kanye ordeal to be compelling and perplexing, as it brings about a wide variety of topics around issues such as: politics, race, fame, celebrity, mental health, change, free-speech, and much more. These are all topics that you can find heavily discussed in the news, and many other media platforms available in this age.  Unfortunately for Kanye (and all of us frankly speaking), we cannot escape our past. His life in the public as a star, who we saw him to be, and his evolution to today has left us with a polarizing question: is Kanye West making some sort of peculiar, misunderstood attempt at intersectionality and peace, or is Kanye West a crazy, selfish entertainer, using this moment to elevate himself for his own personal brand?  The two proposed questions reflect most of the posts, comments, and conversations I have heard regarding Kanye within the past year. Personally, I believe that he is on some weird journey of peace, trying his hand at intersectionality. However, there is also that skeptical voice of reason that tends to fire back, doubting his intentions. Either way, the uncertainty is fine with me, as the idea of not being dualistic may leave room for further conversation.  At a larger level than Kanye, that very idea may prove useful to us in society in general. But…I just drink beer and talk about rap (Kanye shrug).  As always, let us continue to keep our pints full, while being forever ready to scream at each other in the name of hip hop.

 OT The GoldN’ Child

[talabib]

How To Unleash The Power Of Stories

For thousands of years, people have wanted to hear stories, whether from travelling bards in the old days or best-selling paperbacks today.

Why are we so drawn to narratives, when surely we really just need facts to make decisions? Put simply, a good story helps people interpret the facts and see the bigger picture. Things people would not believe, understand or care about become compelling and meaningful as soon as they are seen through the lens of a simulated personal experience: a story.

And if you’re the one telling the story, you can influence the way your audience interprets facts. This makes good storytelling a very powerful tool indeed. So how do you tell a good story?

Stories help us make sense of the world and are effective tools for persuading others.

In order to know how to tell a good story, we must first know what a good story actually is. Quite simply, a good story is one that simplifies the world and makes us feel we understand it better.

The world today often seems complicated and chaotic, but a story has the power to make sense of it. It gives listeners a plot to follow, around which they can organize their thoughts.

This not only makes it easier for the listener to understand your argument, but can also help them make sense of their personal problems and frustrations. For example, if someone has lost their job or gone through a tough break up, a story about someone in a similar situation will help them to recover.

In this sense stories – though indirect – are more effective than direct guidance. This is because direct guidance only applies to one situation and then loses relevance, whereas the lessons of a story can be adapted to fit multiple situations.

Let's say you have a colleague who frequently sends obnoxious-sounding emails around the office because he can’t be bothered to word them properly, and you’d like him to change his behavior. You could, of course, tell him outright to stop doing this, but it would be even more effective to tell him a story about someone who lost their job due to a misunderstanding in a poorly worded email.

Your colleague would probably remember that story every time he was sending an email. He might even start applying the lesson about being polite and professional in his other communications.

So even though stories are an indirect way of relaying a point, they can be much more effective than the direct, raw truth.

Telling an immersive story requires more than just words – use your whole body.

Let’s say you now know what story you want to tell. So how do you tell it properly? You have to realize that you have many channels of communication available. Imagine you’re not merely telling a story, but enacting a play for your listener: your voice, face, hands and body are the actors, stage costumes, music and props that can add a whole new level to your story.

You can use your hand gestures to add meaning to your words and really paint a picture for your listeners. Use facial expressions to help people relate to your story. If your story is about something that angers you, show that anger on your face, or smile if you’re talking about how happy you were at another point in the plot. This makes people more likely to believe you.

Of course, to fully immerse the listener in your story, what you say is also important. Here you should prioritize things that the listener can imagine vividly. For example, you could ask your audience to imagine the smell of sizzling bacon. Or if your story involves the wind howling, you could make a similar sound to really make them feel present in the story. This kind of visceral experience creates emotional memories that are particularly powerful.

Another way to create emotional memories is to use irrelevant but concrete details. So if you want to tell a story of a large household, don’t focus on how many children are in the family or what their names are. Instead, use concrete details and tell your listeners about the way the house would fill with the scent of freshly baked blueberry pie on Sunday mornings.

A convincing speech or presentation must tell six different stories.

If you really want to be able to influence your audience, you have to tell them not one, but six different stories.

First, tell them who you are, and second, tell them why you’re there. This is because people won’t trust you until they know the answer to these questions, and if you tell them using stories it will be far more convincing, making you seem more trustworthy.

Third, you have to tell them a story that relates the vision you have – i.e., the long-term goal that you want to move them toward. For example, if you’re the CEO of a company, you can’t just blurt out, “We must achieve five percent annual sales growth.” Instead you should tell them a moving story that inspires your employees to desire that growth – maybe tell them about another company that later became famous.

Fourth, you also need to tell a story that teaches them. For example, if you have just hired a new receptionist, rather than tell him what buttons to push on the phone, regale him with the story of Mrs. Jones, the greatest receptionist you ever met, and how she did the job so immaculately.

Fifth, tell a values-in-action story. This means telling a story where the value you want to convey is translated into a real, specific action. For example, if you say to your employees “Integrity is important,” it won’t mean much. It would be much more effective to tell a story about an employee who once made a huge mistake but was rewarded when she came clean instead of trying to cover it up.

Sixth, tell a “I know what you are thinking” story that will make your audience wonder if you’ve just read their minds. For example, think about the potential objections your audience members will make, and then raise and deal with those points as part of a story. This will make the audience feel more at ease.

Stories wield a powerful influence because they relax and disarm your audience.

Now that you know you can influence people with stories, you probably want to know why that's the case.

First, they help you overcome suspicions: people are often distrustful when someone is trying to influence them, but stories allow you to bypass their suspicion because you can frame the audience on your side: your interests and theirs overlap. This will make them more likely to trust you.

Second, stories are effective instruments for making your audience feel as though you know them. These days people crave real human attention, so if you tell a story that touches them and makes them feel acknowledged, they will be more connected to you and more cooperative.

Third, you can take advantage of the fact that people automatically feel more comfortable and relaxed when they hear a story. The instant you say you're going to tell a little story, your audience will relax and become less analytical. It’s almost like hypnosis.

And if you tell a good enough story when they are in this state, it could stick in their heads for so long that eventually they won't be sure if they heard it or if it happened to them. If this sounds far-fetched, think about some stories from your early childhood. Are you totally sure they happened to you or did you merely hear about them? Your story will influence the audience’s actions as if it had happened to them.

You can influence even reluctant or indifferent audiences – if you don’t think of them that way.

Of course, not all audiences are eager to listen to what you have to say. Often you’ll find you have to speak to people that you might find unwilling, disinterested or unmotivated. So how can you influence them?

The key is to understand that your listeners have good reasons for their opinions, even if they are not in line with yours. It’s too easy to think you’re in the right and they’re in the wrong. For example, though abortion is a highly polarizing issue, both sides have reasons for their opinions: pro-lifers want to save the life of the unborn child, whereas pro-choicers focus on the life of the mother and the plight of the unwanted baby. If you want to influence either group, you have to acknowledge these reasons.

A second key consideration is that you have to remain positive. If you allow yourself to think that your audience is reluctant or indifferent, that negative emotion will seep into your speech. You want to awaken hope in them, and this can only be done if you yourself are hopeful.

For example, if your story is meant to motivate people to save the planet, don’t focus on all the depressing statistics. This will only make your audience feel ashamed, bitter or angry, and none of these emotions lead to action. Only hope does.

Finally, if you find that the audience is very negative, try telling them an extra story that's designed to work around the source of their negativity. For example, if the audience seems cynical and doubtful of your sincerity, open up and tell them a personal story – this is the closest they can get to first-hand evidence of your sincerity!

Alternatively, if you think your audience resents you for having the spotlight, try to tell a story that highlights the big picture and the goals you share with them.

You can also influence others by listening to their stories.

You’ve seen how important the art of storytelling is, but there’s another side to the coin. If you truly want to be able to influence someone, you also need to be adept at story listening. In a dialog you need to genuinely listen to your partner.

This way you’ll come to understand not only his opinions and arguments but also his uncertainties and true feelings, because he’ll see how closely you're listening and feel comfortable opening up.

Sometimes this is the best chance you’ll have to influence someone: listen to their story. Often you’ll find that if you just listen to them respectfully, they will begin to reflect on their own opinions and challenge their views, all by themselves. Often they change their position to something closer to yours.

For example, imagine you’re a car salesperson, and you want to sell a customer a Toyota, but he says he “hates Toyotas.” What story should you tell?

Instead, listen to the customer’s story about why he hates Toyotas. This will help him to articulate what concerns him, and will also make him reflect on whether some of his criticisms are unfounded. He may even end with something like, “But that could just be the Toyotas I've driven – the new models might be better."

Once you’ve listened, you have your second chance at influencing the other person, because he'll want to extend the same courtesy to you. You'll have a focused audience for your own story. What’s more, the customer feels closer to you because you've bonded as he told you his story. This is a great starting point for you to influence them.

The three don’ts: don’t act superior, don’t be boring and don’t impose negative emotions.

Though there are many ways to tell a story well, there are also a few sure-fire ways to make a mess of it. To avoid the latter, keep these three simple don’ts in mind.

Firstly, don’t act superior to your audience. If you lord it over them, there’s a danger that they may see you as some kind of guru whom they’ll follow without thinking, and the same perception will make many other would-be listeners turn away. If you're not a guru you'll have a broader audience, so trust your listeners to think for themselves.

It's better to show that you’re just like your listeners, so connect to them via shared interests and common experiences. Tell them about your fears, hopes and passions.

Secondly, don’t bore your listeners. Everyone knows how boring it can be to listen to a story that either goes nowhere or is far too long. So when you’re telling the story, pay careful attention to how it will feel for the audience. Don’t go straight to the point and force feed it to your audience. Share some colorful and bizarre details that really entice your audience to follow where you lead them.

Finally, don’t scare people or make them feel guilty. Negative emotions make people antagonistic and less likely to make lasting changes. Only positive emotions will make people take action or change their mind in the long run.

Abraham Lincoln is one shining example of believing in the power of positivity. When he was told that he should destroy his enemies, Lincoln simply replied, “Isn’t that what I do when I make them friends?”

Becoming a storyteller can change your outlook on life, but it brings great responsibility.

We’ve discussed how becoming a great storyteller will make you more influential and persuasive in the eyes of others. But that’s not all: you’ll also notice changes in your own life.

This is because a storyteller sees the world differently. You’ll begin to see your life as a story, and you are the person who chooses how the plot unfolds. For example, if you’re currently living in a story where you’re constantly stressed and frustrated, it’s time to rewrite that plot into something more positive.

Once you’ve found a good story to live, your place in the world will become clearer and your life will seem more meaningful. You’ll also begin to look at problems differently, because you’ve seen how even the most massive problems can be solved.

Being a storyteller will also have a great impact on the relationships you have with other people, because you now carry a great responsibility: The stories you tell will affect the lives of those around you in the long term. So if you tell stories that make the people around you see themselves as victims, or start blaming one another, it can change your family, your company or even your community.

As an example, consider one of the most influential fearmongering storytellers in history: Adolf Hitler. His stories provoked such powerful reactions of fear and hatred in the German people that they perpetrated the Holocaust. Never underestimate the power and responsibility that come from being a storyteller.

You need critical thinking, but you also need story thinking.

These days, it seems the most valued thinking skills in the world are rational and critical. They are taught at school, and they help you get jobs. But in fact there’s another kind of thinking that can be very beneficial for a storyteller, namely story thinking: framing problems and situations as stories.

When approaching a problem or situation with purely rational thought, the goal is to remove all ambiguity, anecdotes and emotions from the equation. It’s like using a ready-made recipe or formula: you know what you’ll end up with, but it definitely won’t be anything new or innovative.

Story thinking, on the other hand, actually broadens your horizons and allows you to operate even when there is ambiguity. It encourages you to forget the rules and embrace emotions, which is beneficial when telling stories: you can better interact with your audience by sharing emotions with them.

What’s more, story thinking helps you identify stories all around you, and this will improve the stories you yourself tell. Story thinking also dissuades you from trying to be too objective: our experience of the real world is subjective, after all, so if you try to tell an objective story about it, it won’t seem real to the audience.

The fact that story thinking is so free and fluid is what makes it more an art form than a science. It promotes creative intelligence and a better imagination, which is what’s needed to enact any change in society.

Storytelling is a far more powerful way of influencing people than pointing at facts and figures. Stories can help you reach any audience and inspire them to take action. In fact, storytelling is so powerful a tool that once you become a storyteller, you have a great responsibility to tell stories that improve the lives of those around you.

[majestywritez]

Dream Sequences

Intro to Post:

Hey lovelies!! Today's post is all about dreams. Most people think dreams are an easy subject or topic to write about since you know, we all experience our own dreams but to write a good dream sequence, requires a lot of different aspects that I will be going over in the rest of today's post so without further a do let's get started!

Uses for Dreams in Literature

The Realization Dream

In a Realization Dream, something must “click” for a character in a dream, something they couldn’t figure out while awake.

Maybe a character is incapable of putting together certain pieces of evidence in his waking life, but in the midst of a dream’s storm-and-chaos, the pieces fall into place for them. Or maybe their latest desires are thrown into sharp relief in a vivid dream in true Freudian style.

2. The Internal Conflict Dream

A character struggling with an impossible choice might very well dream about it.

Using a dream sequence to colorfully illustrate internal turmoil can give a face to a character’s agony. Remember: show, don’t tell. This is something I often struggle with when writing, guys! Anyone else? Lol

3. The Foreshadowing Dream

The foreshadowing dream is probably one of my very favorites and for me its easier to write. This sequence gives a character a glimpse of the future while they sleep. This particular effect can range from mere hints at events to come—for instance, a character dreams about a ghastly trial where horrible evidence is brought against him, then wakes up and gets dressed down by his overbearing girlfriend—or outright prophesy.

In either case, this dream type should be used sparingly, and with extreme caution: if your characters are able to accurately predict the future with any sort of consistency, it can drain the tension right out of your story!

4. The Communication Dream

Also known as a “shared” or “linked” dream, this conceit comes from the popular notion that people are somehow able to communicate with one another via their dreams.

When used literally—usually in a more fantasy-oriented setting—the Communication Dream can be used either to demonstrate the close emotional bond between siblings, friends, or lovers, or simply to relay important information across vast distances without the use of communication technology.

Or, if the dream isn’t actually “shared,” it can allow one character to say something to another character that she could never say in person, creating a moment of catharsis.

Also a rule to remember before writing a dream: before you begin writing your dream sequence, ask yourself exactly why you’re including it.

If you can’t answer further than, “Because it’ll be awesome,” then the sequence probably isn’t necessary to your story.

Now that we're done discussing the uses for dream sequences, let's get into actually writing one!

Tips for Writing Dream Sequences:

1. Apply a bit of Logic

Writers and critics alike refer to how certain scenes accurately capture “dream logic,” or the fact that dreams seemingly operate on no logic at all.

That’s the keyword, however: “seemingly.”

Remember again that you’re writing a scene first, a scene that your readers need to be able to follow—at least somewhat. Your dream sequence needs to establish its own brand of consistent “dream logic" to ensure that the scene actually functions as a scene.

Even the most surreal and chaotic dreamscape needs some sort of through-line that ties it all together: as bananas as dreams get sometimes, they still have a narrative of some sort.

Even if you decide that your story would be best served by a wildly inconsistent dream sequence, you can at least be consistent in your inconsistency. Basically, keep the chaos running at the same level at all times, and the events within will hold some semblance of internal consistency—even if they’re actually coming apart at the seams.

2. Use Narrative Distance

You’ve no doubt heard of the classic “out-of-body experience” dream, where the dreamer watches their own actions as though they are a spectator instead of being “in the driver’s seat.”

Well, there’s a way to capture that floaty, out-to-lunch feeling in fiction using a narrative technique called narrative distance.

Narrative distance, or “perspective distance,” refers to the implied “space” between the reader and the narrator or character in the story. Are your readers privy to the narrator’s private thoughts or opinions about the goings-on in your book? Does he or she have a distinct personality—or even agency in the story, to a degree?

If so, that’s close narrative distance.

First-person perspective has the closest and most intimate narrative distance, but third-person has varying degrees of this as well. Can your third-person narrator omnisciently “hear” the thoughts of all your major characters—or does the narration function more like a camera lens, observing the action only on a surface level? Or can the narrator only “hear” the inner monologue of one central character? Or maybe a chosen few? All these decisions affect the narrative distance of your story.

But how does this apply to dream sequences? Well, in order to create that floaty, dreamlike feel, simply increase the narrative distance in your story for the duration of the scene. If you’ve got a first-person narrator, switch to third-person limited. If you’re already in third-person limited, “pan out” further—go for that action-oriented, cinematic viewpoint we described earlier.

The goal is to create a shift in perspective so radical that it makes your readers feel like they’re dreaming as well. “Zoom out” from the dream’s events, set your character loose inside—and watch the mayhem begin from afar.

3. Use a Little or Lots of Detail

There are two basic settings for fictional dreams.

First, there are the dreams that take place in vast voids with little detail and only a few characters and concrete objects within them. This creates an empty, lonely, and often eerie atmosphere, appropriate for both nightmares and reflection.

But these dream-voids aren’t merely seen, they’re experienced—and a very specific type of writing is required to simulate that experience on paper.

In this sort of dream, a lamp should go from “the lamp with the gold-colored lampshade and the base shaped like a crouching cat” to simply “a lamp on a low desk.”

Be vague. Be infuriatingly vague. Withhold details. Use sentence fragments. Leave gaps in your descriptions for your readers to fill in: after all, that’s what they’d do if the dream belonged to them!

The other kind of dream turns everything up several notches: the noise, the saturation, the colors, the mayhem… These dreams feel overcrowded, bursting at the seams, difficult to navigate without stepping on (or in) something unpleasant.

These are a different sort of nightmare: use them to communicate stress or illness or indecision, the product of a split, fractured, or divided mind.

Embrace that chaos in your writing. Go into detail overload. Describe things in florid or grotesque fashion, especially things that wouldn’t normally be either florid or grotesque. Have random, surreal elements intrude into the central narrative of the dream, and make sure these intrusions are as unpleasant as possible. Make your readers uneasy with their descriptions.

Not only does this overblown style suit surreal imagery, but it can make even ordinary scenery feel fevered and dreamlike.

A word of warning, however: exercise at least a smidge of restraint here. You may want your fever-dream sequence to be unpleasant, yes—but not so awful that your readers simply walk away.

Alright, I hope all of this information helped anyone who's interested in writing dream sequences. That's it for today's post, have a wonderful day and don't forget I love you all!

[techcrunchappcom]

New Post has been published on https://techcrunchapp.com/applying-ai-to-bring-a-better-you-to-video-meetings-tech-buzz/

Applying AI to Bring a 'Better You' to Video Meetings | Tech Buzz

Last week had presentations from three of the significant processor companies, each planning to revolutionize the PC market. This revolution was an immense change from just a couple of years ago when everyone and their brother seemed to think that PCs were dead.

One of the few positive impacts from this pandemic is that PCs have nearly sold out everywhere, resulting in unprecedented demand for a class of products that had gone into decline as a result of insufficient marketing.

Let’s talk about improvements in how we appear on videoconferences this week, and we’ll close with my product of the week — the updated Ooler water-cooled mattress pad that’s been helping me sleep during this pandemic.

The Cause of the PC Decline

There is a common segment that I understand is in most college marketing programs and was undoubtedly in mine, which talks about the problem with marketing. That problem is that operational executives don’t understand it and will cut marketing costs to save money, not realizing that the lagging impact will be sharply reduced sales.

My lesson happened far earlier than in college, when I was a child speaking with my grandfather who was a CEO in the petrochemical industry. He told me the story of a train trip where William Wrigley Jr., the founder and CEO of the Wrigley Company (of chewing gum and candy fame), was riding with a young intern.

The Intern asked why Wrigley spent so much on marketing, given that his company was the segment leader, and sales were impressively high. Wrigley replied by asking “since the train was already traveling at 60 mph, why don’t they stop shoveling in coal because the train is going fast enough?” The answer is that the train will eventually run out of steam and stop, and that is exactly what happens in business.

Ironically, Wrigley, which was dominant when I was a child, is almost unknown today because the company stopped marketing. That’s what happened to the PC market.

In the 1990s, we had tech TV shows. The companies had commercials and were marketing heavily, ergo buyers were far more likely to prioritize buying a new PC. When the PC companies cut back on marketing to focus on price competition, the shows died, demand dwindled, and the result was a declining market which now has been revitalized by the pandemic.

However, without demand generation, this good news will turn bad because we’ve now saturated the market with new laptops — meaning it could be 5 to 8 years before the majority of folks want to replace them — unless the PC firms go back to creating and marketing compelling offers.

This problem isn’t an easy fix because, thanks to streaming, folks aren’t watching TV commercials as much as they used to, and Google and Facebook have made marketing and advertising far more difficult in terms of large-scale awareness. Although they have made it a ton easier to target, so done right this problem could be mitigated.

Last week, Qualcomm, Intel, and Nvidia may have showcased the way to do this by focusing much of their new offerings on making you look better; and looking better, because it’s connected to status, could be an excellent foundation for driving demand.

Qualcomm, Intel and Nvidia: Making You Feel Pretty

There is a song from the musical West Side Story called I Feel Pretty that’s running through my head right now. The fact is that people tend to judge us by our appearance, and for a lot of folks on calls, that appearance has degraded sharply this year. Wrinkled clothing, no makeup, partial beards, the hair on men down to their shoulders, and work locations that are sloppy, dingy, dark and unattractive are all everyday experiences in large Microsoft Teams and Zoom events (these two offerings are trending to become new standards).

Also, because of where the camera is situated on monitors and laptops, we never seem to be looking at the people to whom we are speaking. (In-screen cameras are on the way and will arrive on smartphones shortly, but haven’t been announced yet for PCs yet.)

These appearance degradations subtly or overtly devalue what colleagues think of us — from vendors, to co-workers, to managers and executives. This is undoubtedly changing our promotion and raise opportunities for the worse, and making us look unprofessional. While we don’t necessarily need to feel as pretty as Julie Andrews did in that linked song, our appearance does reflect on our confidence; and knowing we look our best should improve not only how others perceive our competence, but our own confidence as well.

All three vendors showcased technology that would improve how people see you. Nvidia seemed to go the farthest but has not yet focused all of their technology on the problem.

The 8cx platform from Qualcomm has a unique AI feature that adjusts your eyes in real time, so to the remote participant it appears that you are looking directly at them. It’s critically important to look people in the eye. I trained in negotiation, and one of the rules is that you want to look people in the eye to be taken as sincere; if you aren’t doing that, you appear untrustworthy. Our current camera placement makes it almost impossible to look someone in the eye, and athat subtly makes people mistrust you as a result.

Qualcomm also had sound improvements that should make it easier for the parties to understand each other. It’s interesting to note that Qualcomm’s approach is focused on helping you hear better, while the others are focused on helping others better hear you.

Intel, with its Tiger Lake and Evo platforms, is integrating artificial backgrounds into their solution, along with vastly improved noise cancellation which eliminates the annoying sounds that tend to drift into meetings from home offices. This combination should make you appear more professional during these meetings; and as the technology advances, may convince buyers to cycle their PCs faster and thus help prevent another sharp decline in future sales.

Nvidia had a similar approach to Intel with its powerful GeForce RTX 30 launch. The company packaged its solution under a Broadcast app designed to not only help with video calls, but to assist podcasts, and capabilities that allow your camera to track you better so that your head stays in the center of the frame — which should help manifest professionalism during video conference calls.

But where Nvidia potentially took it to the next level is Omniverse Machinima, where you can use game assets to create a movie and automatically animate digital avatars. If this technology were applied, which I expect it eventually will be, you could create 3D scans of yourself dressed for business, and then use your camera to sync them with your body. Then you’d never again have to dress, put on makeup, or even get out of bed for a meeting — while still appearing well dressed and groomed.

Personal Presentation the New Battleground

I do not doubt that Intel, Nvidia, and Qualcomm will not only continue to advance their technologies to make you look better on video calls, but they will emulate each other’s tech features to create parity.

For now, on paper, Nvidia is out in front. But this is anyone’s race, and since appearance is essential to all of us, this could be a race that returns faster churn to the PC market to create an arms race on virtual physical improvements. It also suggests that, once this matures, there will be a ton of folks who you’ll be unable to talk into coming back to the office because their actual appearance will have significantly drifted from what you’ve seen on the screen.

Lastly, a related aside: Video dating will increasingly lead to in-person disappointment. Though, I think it would be fun to create a 3D avatar of my 23-pound Maine Coon cat and have him virtually attend meetings with my voice. At my age, I’m more interested in having fun than getting that next promotion.

I’ve made the chiliPAD and its follow-on the Ooler (around US$699 for one person, $1,399 to 1,499 for two) my product of the week a few times now. But one of the problems has been the pad, which tends to stain and is hard to clean. It also didn’t breathe well, resulting in it being hot when the Ooler wasn’t on.

Well, the folks at Chili Technology just did a partial refresh and sent me the new pad. It is incredible in that while it still has one side similar to the old pad, if you flip it, the other side resists stains and breaths far better. So if you, like me, tend to be hot at night, it’s more effective at lowering how warm you feel.

OOLER Sleep System

One of the things I like about the Ooler (costs about $200 more than the chiliPAD) over the chiliPAD is that you can set a script where it’s cool at night but toasty in the morning, so you wake up to being warm rather than an alarm.

I like to sleep with the window open at night, and, even on a warm night, the Ooler makes this possible. It uses water as the heat transfer mechanism, similar to how race drivers and astronauts cool their suits. I should point out that you need to use distilled water, or the minerals in the water will build up in the system and cause it to fail.

The new pad is an excellent improvement to the Ooler, so I thought I’d refresh it as my product of the week. Oh, and as a side note, it is kind of cool that my gaming systems and my bed are both water-cooled.

The opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of ECT News Network.

Rob Enderle has been an ECT News Network columnist since 2003. His areas of interest include AI, autonomous driving, drones, personal technology, emerging technology, regulation, litigation, M&E, and technology in politics. He has an MBA in human resources, marketing and computer science. He is also a certified management accountant. Enderle currently is president and principal analyst of the Enderle Group, a consultancy that serves the technology industry. He formerly served as a senior research fellow at Giga Information Group and Forrester. Email Rob.

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