#also it's really odd when people in the notes of that post go 'yeah white people families are incestuous'

[frereamour]

continuing on from lrb tags; this is exactly what I mean by incest is normalized as long as it's heterosexual. and the incestuous nature of the family is the point. the daughters are the father's property, the sons are the mother's husbands.

[raayllum]

considering Rayla has absolutely buggered Aaravos’ plans multiple times in S6 if he were to posses Callum again do you think he’d go straight for killing Rayla?

Yeah she's been the last minute fuck up of Aaravos' plans now twice - which considering her "I am pretty awesome at everything... right up until the moment it really matters" choking at the finish line complex - is so on brand for them as a foils dynamic it actually drives me insane now that it's a parallel that could turn into a pattern. But post for another day

I think that if Runaan coin stuff leaves Ezran and Rayla at odds for a time in S6, wanting to save a brainwashed Callum may be what brings them back together in terms of that initial rift. As much as I want some broyals angst & fluff next season, I do think ultimately Rayla will have the bigger role to play in the possession plot line, simply because it's been set up that way, for a few years:

Aaravos specifically taunts Rayla with being unable to kill in 4x04 only for that to be precisely what Callum asks Rayla to do in 4x07. That's a plot beat / choice and set up that has to be paid off eventually

Furthermore, Rayla is the one emphasized more in said scenario. She's the one catching Callum and stepping toward him at first in 4x04, she's the one interrupting Callum with the mirror in 4x02, and she's the one to explicitly tell him he has another path in 4x07. They also cut to a shot with her directly when Callum says "he'll [...] hurt people I care about" which - Yeah

S5 actually furthered this thread of Aaravos-Rayla tethering. Whereas twice in S4 people think Callum is going to talk about Rayla when he actually talks about Aaravos, S5 switches it up with Callum's research into Aaravos being derailed by his devotion to Rayla (5x01: "Your elf friend is in trouble" / 5x04: "But you can trust me to stay focused" whereas Callum immediately loses focus because of her). 5x08, in which Callum is willing to help someone murder an Archdragon and to do dark magic in order to save her, likewise has the Callum-Aaravos intro.

Callum and Rayla watching a literal falling star together in 5x02, all of Rayla's associations of being light, etc.

This all ties together, then, of Rayla likely being the one to save Callum from the brainwashing (even if she also is, come hell or high water, what leads to him being brainwashed again in the first place - kinda like how Viren's love for his family doomed him at first and then also brought him back from the brink again in S5). This has been foreshadowed in a few ways / would be payoff for a few different ways.

Rayla being associated with light and Callum's agency (even if the light isn't always good and agency isn't always that simple, which is already in line with the flashing white cube in 4x04 and 5x08 as Callum is Aaravos' pawn). Also these lines from the book one novelization, which drive me crazy every time: “So they might kill you or they might save you,��� Callum said. “Exactly.” Rayla smiled. “Just like me.” (—Book One: Novelization)

S5 puts Rayla's selflessness on full display, as she doesn't prioritize her parents once and instead Callum is the one who pushes forward on that front, even while acknowledging that "The world needs me. Callum and Ezran need me" still go basically hand-in-hand with her. While the "stronger together" is something she's learning (with practice) and is something that Callum may need to re-learn to a degree, Rayla's tendency to sacrifice hasn't been really dismantled yet. Her refusing to sacrifice something - in this case, a possessed Callum - by refusing to kill him (even if it puts the world at risk) would be a big, meaningful step forward for her, and is I think where they're headed.

On that note: S4 opened up an interesting character aspect for her with "we can't save everyone" regarding the drake in 4x05 that again, S5 has kind of left unaddressed for now, so Rayla and Callum both reconciling their identities - Callum, through reconciling the light and dark inside him and being brought out of possession (moon arcanum time?); and Rayla, being someone who can save people and depend on them without always having to sacrifice herself - could work really well if she's the one who breaks him free. Chains and keys and "That's your name right - Callum?" and "She's not the elf, she's Rayla" and "You're the destiny is a book you write yourself guy" and "That's what makes her a hero. That's what makes her Rayla" etc.

Finnegrin implies that Callum's love for Rayla makes him weak ( "All that talk about how love makes you stronger, but the second you see that elf girl in pain") and foolish. Impulsive, irrational. Opeli implies it to a much lesser degree, but that's still why she cautions Callum in 5x01. If "losing control" is synonymous with Rayla for Callum, it just means that Aaravos losing control of Callum probably will be as well.

Love is good and bad. Strength and weakness. The ocean and dark magic. Light and dark. Control and liberation.

I think we'll see all of that reflected in the possession plot line going ahead in S6.

[saberboi-2]

All this talk about the mormon church has got me remembering the movies people have made of religious experiences.

Romcoms mostly but also just like, someone living through a deeply traumatic experience and attributing their survival to god

My brain pulls up the Cokeville Miracle... is that what it was called, really? (Looking it up) yeah, yeah it was. Imagine living in Cokeville good lird

This post got long oops

Anyway basically this guy decided to bomb a school and the bomb didn't go off the way it was supposed to and blasted upward instead if outward so instead of killing all of the children in the room it just gave everyone some scrapes and bruises (or worse idk but basically everyone survived). Some of the people in the room said they saw angels making a circle around the blast, keeping it from going off the way it was supposed to or something? (if this description is wrong, sorry I was like... zoning out for most of my childhood... )

Anyway the film I'm talking about was released... maybe a year after one of my aunts died in a car crash and she was one of the kids who lived through that. My mom cried a lot during the credits of that movie where they added a little section of like, "where are they now?"

Anyway, just... thinking about how that's a tactic. Making people extremely emotional then telling them that god can give them comfort, or that they can feel better by the community they could get from the church or whatever.

Unless you're queer, or not white. They've been pulling some shenanigans with trying to be more inclusive recently, but I don't think POC were allowed to be in leadership positions of the church until like... (looking it up again) 1978... oh my god they weren't even allowed to get sealed to their families until then either Jesus Christ.

For any who don't know, being sealed to your family is like, one of the main benefits the church advertises. Basically there's 3 different "Kingdoms of Heaven" and the people who do all the good church things get to the highest tier. Sealing your family ensures that your family all gets to still be able to see each other in Heaven. I'm pretty sure that means you all get sent to the same kingdom, but don't quote me on that I don't remember if it's that or if it's like visitation hours from higher tiers or some shit.

So POC (or rather i guess anyone who couldn't pass themselves off as White Enough) weren't allowed that. Also there's a thing in one of their main books of scripture where it says black people exist because they were cursed to be that way for being evil.

... yeah

Also women's only purpose in the church is to birth and raise children. They don't get priesthood, only men can get that because (checks notes) god cursed every woman to not have priesthood and for childbirth to be extremely painful as punishment for Eve eating the fuckin fruit. So basically their whole purpose in life is get married have kids. Oh but it's a "holy gift from god" so it's okay hahahaha........

The church is also, of course, anti-abortion because "all of god's children need an opportunity to come to earth" even though god is also omnipotent and planned for all his children from the beginning of time so it really doesn't matter if every woman has children right? No? They still need to have as big of a family as they can? Hm. Odd.

Also they're incredibly money oriented. I'm tired, so I'll just direct you to the tags from two or so posts ago, but I'll add that when the pioneers first started colonizing Utah the church was leading them and the guy who was the prophet at the time planned their first city so that "a horse drawn cart could do a full turn in the street". If that isn't a sign of leadership focused more on commerce and money than people, I don't know what to tell you. I've had Sunday school teachers talk about how much of a blessing it is that they built the roads so wide that long ago, so that our car-centered infrastructure could fit in it today as a sign of "god's divine wisdom".

Also most of the first leaders were rich white men who gave their money to the people who founded teh church. Yeah I didn't even need to mention the money based infrastructure...

[blackvail22]

had the craziest dream last night (the night i wrote like the last two posts) and its the most insane one ive had in a rlly long time

i was at the gas station near my home and i was like looking around and then my enetire old group of friends were hanging out with my ex girlfriend (aka the girl that bullied b two school years ago that b is still friends with and makes things for when she literally contemplated suicide because of her)

anyways, we locked eyes and i started to get anxious. after that the gas station somehow transformed to a restaurant thing and then this fucking robot/internet scam thing as a human came in and i could tell was like... a scam robot or whatever but my mom didnt so when the robot wrote on the ticket my first and last name and then like scribbled at my name and then it locked eyes w me. terrifying. it was so--

ok anyway the robot thing wrote a like $1000 tip or whatever but since it was a scam... they came after me after my mom took the ticket LMAO

before the robots came after me, i remember i was in a car in a parking lot in my town, and i thought of something i really wanted to share with you (apple) and so i called u and we talked for a while. i dont remember what we talked about? i just remember you being confused because we didnt voice call a lot before then LMAO

And then these fucking missles start flying at me. like, shit was gta style i swear to god. so ny dad starts driving the car, nd he's swerving everywhere to dodge the missles and then eventually (i dont know how it got to this) but suddenly i was back at my gas station but it was more like ... there were brick buildings everywhere, like it wasnt my town anymore. and then these christian protesters are parading down streets with these fire guns(?) and are screaming, telling everyone to praise the christian god or whatever

then people start shooting these guns from high buildings (its like a ball of fire that comes out) and so its just raining molten balls at this point. panicked, i go to dodge the fire thats coming down. theres this person with a sign that was yelling people to stop firing the guns, but they didnt hear and they kept going. then one of the fireballs hits someones leg (its an old classmate of mine) and then he's screaming in pain and his leg is burnt off

thats the last thing i remember if im being honest

another important thing to note i guess is that the parade of ppl in my dream were all wearing white shirts. idk if thats significant, but it was odd. there was also portions of my dream that were in black and white, nd there were parts where i saw all black but i was imagining something happening ... like it was daydreaming

yeah i really wanted to share that w someoje because it was traumatizing ngl

[herbsandrootwork]

African American Folklore

So after being on a hunt for some Africans American folklore, I found myself not completely Identifying with them. I'm black right so I feel some type of way about not being so connected. The stories are all cool and everything and hearing them does bring a sense of empowerment but i also recognize the time period in which they were speaking too. I want to bring the art of story telling back to life. Let us hear stories that pull together the generations and SPEAK our triumph in the world we still are hoping to see. These days I have been noting down some topics that come to mind and I have been working on a few of them. I want to add them to my podcast. Oh yeah, I made a podcast & published a tralier a few days ago. The launch date isnt until May 31 2023. I'm still a litte nervous i guess about being more public about it and atp i definitely do not want to post on my personal stuff. lol But because I do not want to, I absolutely am! It was fun editing the trailer (which was my intro) and it sounds really good. It makes me want to redo a few episodes but I dont want to get into my perfectionist mode and never actually do it. This is my last week of all this free time so I want to make the most of it. I still have a lot to work on personally then I think I can manage to get by. What type of herbs can help bring focus and clarity? Is there some type of ritual that can help with this? I see A L O T of posts asking things like this, usually something for tests in school I'm guessing. I use to think: Just study, tf. But I can understand when you feel up against a challenge and you want the odds to go in your favor and YOU KNOW there are ways to get them to be in your favor, if its something you really want and have given it all your might, why not? Its not cheating. Some people might feel like it is. But when you are black in a white america going up against blond hair blue eyes becky and buckly if you didnt pray to whoever it is you pray to like "Please let me have this!" then you are 100% gulity of the crime. If you are one of the ones where its like "If this is right for me then let me have it" still guilty but you allow the natural course to work. I also understand a little bit about how timelines work so when I get the nudge to do something im going to try to incorporate the spiritual aspect to what it is as well as the physical and mental work. So let me get about 3 days to get some recordings going on what I have. Maybe I'll post here and on the podcast, just to get some feed back.

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

For anyone who (justifiably) did not bother clicking on the link above, I ended that post by saying I’ve knocked everything off my list of stuff to watch and listen to, so I’m going to engage further in my hobby (for the purposes of this post, I’m saying that in the Simon Quinlank voice) of collecting relics of the 00s British comedy scene, particularly chronicling the history of the Chocolate Milk Gang. By re-listening to some of the episodes of the Russell Howard and Jon Richardson radio show that were broadcast from Edinburgh 2007, because I have an audio diary of the 2007 Edinburgh Festival by a guy who was in the Chocolate Milk Gang, why have I not sated my hobby by going through that for references to it (yes I did listen to every episode of that show two years ago, but that was before I developed this hobby)?

Okay, okay, so here are some notes on the very essential things we learn about the storied history of comedy in Britain from the radio episode on August 5, 2007:

- Russell Howard called Andrew O’Neill and “absolute prick”. Jon Richardson agreed but said it should really only be said off air. What an important bit of gossip (I’m… I’m saying that sarcastically, but I actually have been sufficiently immersed in learning about 2007 comedy to find that slightly interesting gossip. Like that other 2007 episode when Russell Howard said he doesn’t like David Mitchell because “he bullied Paul Foot”, and I didn’t know what he was talking about, but then later, I heard an episode of Daniel Kitson’s radio show from 2006 in which he said he was mad about how everyone on FAQ U, a terrible panel show hosted by David Mitchell, treated Paul Foot badly when he was a guest on there for being odd, even though Paul Foot’s offbeat appearance was the only redeeming thing about that show. And then I realized that clearly, Daniel Kitson got mad about that and complained about it to his Chocolate Milk Gang friends and then Russell Howard was also mad about it. How do I justify spending my limited hours on Earth cataloguing these things? I don’t know, at least I’m not listening to Jordan Peterson, I guess. Why did you have to ruin it all, Russell? I liked you better when you were talking shit about probably perfectly harmless occultist comedians, and cribbing your other opinions, and some of your stand-up mannerisms, from Daniel Kitson.).

- When I was first listening to The Bugle (on the subject of my penchant for shows in which two white guys talk to each other in a studio), I made a number of posts in which I said this podcast is mostly for intelligent, tightly written topical material about important trans-Atlantic issues as well as stuff from across the globe, but also, we occasionally get comedian gossip. This gossip is almost always in the form of telling us 1) what songs various people from The Daily Show sing at karaoke, and 2) what goes on at the Tuesday comedian football games. And that’s just fine with me, because that second thing, the Tuesday football stories, is the type of comedian gossip in which I’m most interested. I could listen all day to Andy Zaltzman tell his story about the time when Dave Gorman was in goal and he scored on him and then shouted “What’s that done to the fucking graph?” Or the time John Oliver almost punched Alan Davies for, and I quote, “being rude”.

There were plenty of those stories in the Russell Howard and Jon Richardson radio show too. In the episode I've just re-listened to (not the whole thing, I skimmed it) from August 2007, we got a story that isn’t Edinburgh-based gossip, but is Tuesday football gossip, that’s almost as good.

Russell Howard: We’ve played football loads of times together, but you once kicked it in my face.

Jon Richardson: Yeah.

Russell Howard: I’ve never really forgiven you. And I was laid on the floor – I just felt horrific, smacked in my face, and I could hear that giggle…

Jon Richardson: I wasn’t laughing.

Russell Howard: You were.

Jon Richardson: Daniel Kitson was laughing. I wasn’t laughing.

Then there were some impressions of various people’s laughs, and Russell Howard doing an impression that I believe implied Jon was trying really hard to impress and/or copy Daniel Kitson, when again, given many of Russell Howard’s stand-up mannerisms and how similar they were to the way Kitson used to talk early in his career, I’m not sure Jon was the one doing that. Though I guess he could have been also doing it. It sort of seems like everyone was, at the time.

(This is from 2006, but close enough to 2007, video is supposed to start at 4:18 in case the timestamp doesn't work, as that's the bit that illustrates the above point - I'm pretty sure the thing Tim Minchin shouted there was something that Mark Watson made into a sort of catchphrase of his marathon show that he had various comedians shout with the idea that it was better to just get it out there rather than only thinking it internally. But also, timestamp aside, this entire video is one of my favourite historical records of 00s Edinburgh comedy.)

Incidentally, I cannot miss even a somewhat tenuous excuse to again post the Greatest Video on All of YouTube. Just in case anyone is having trouble picturing the events of this story, and wants to see what it would look like if Russell Howard falls on the ground while playing football. Unfortunately, Daniel Kitson and Jon Richardson are not featured.

- Richard Herring is a guest on this episode (they almost never did guests, they only two guests I remember them ever having were Richard here and Greg Davies showed up once, introduced as “Greg Davies from We Are Klang” because that was happening at the time, there may have been one or two more that I don’t remember), because he happened to be around as they were all in Edinburgh. So I’ve heard Richard Herring live on the radio from two Edinburgh Festivals – 1994 and 2007. Quite far apart from each other, but both more than fifteen years before now. That guy’s been around a long time.

Anyway, to continue chronicling the gossip, Richard showed up late, and Russell said he thought he might be doing it on purpose as payback because a year earlier, Russell was supposed to be on his show with Andrew Collins but didn’t turn up, and didn’t even call ahead to say so. Can you do that? I mean I’d get fired from my job if I did that. How come they can do that?

This was followed by Jon saying that if he doesn’t turn up he’ll be “in the same bed as [Russell]” (the best of people who ghost radio shows), to which Russell replied that any bed with Richard Herring would have a lot of women in it. Which also lines up with a joke Daniel Kitson made several times on his radio show from the same year, his shows from the 2007 Melbourne Festival featured a couple of comments about Richard Herring and his “hit rate”. Apparently in 2007, Richard Herring was sleeping with a lot of women and people were discussing it on the radio. And Russell Howard was getting most of his opinions from Daniel Kitson.

I mean, 2007 was also the year of publication for what remains, nearly a year and a half since I first found it, the weirdest fucking article I’ve ever read. An article that gives us the first definition I ever came across of the Chocolate Milk Gang, in a passage so nonsensical that… I mean, you can see why I dedicated a year and a half to trying to learn about this phenomenon. I’ve just been trying to make sense of this unhinged passage:

As anyone who’s heard Howard’s BBC6 show with if.comeddie best newcomer nominee Jon Richardson will appreciate, there’s a schoolboy snigger to his keen observational comedy. Part of a new breed of stand-up dubbed the Chocolate Milk Gang for rejecting a hard-living ethos, they include the likes of Daniel Kitson, Demetri Martin, John Oliver, David O’Doherty, Josie Long and Alun Cochrane, and can be characterised by their romantic sensibility, intelligence, geekiness, love of indie music and passive-aggressive, alpha male competitiveness. Boyishly good-looking, with a sizeable female stalkerbase, Howard has been identified by Kitson as the man whose role it is to ‘bring the pussy’ to the bearded Yorkshireman’s court. ‘That’s just him talking jive,’ Howard sighs. ‘He’s listed all his friends’ roles: Cochrane makes sandwiches, John has a philosophical lilt and my chief role is to write “big old titties” into his Google whenever he leaves the room. You write it, pretend you haven’t seen it, he returns from making a cup of tea, and you say “what’s this, Dan? You obsessed with big old titties?” That’s never not funny.’

Sorry, actually, I don't know why I was confused. Obviously, according to prolific comedy journalist Jay Richardson, the Chocolate Milk Gang is where Russell Howard brings pussy to Daniel Kitson while Daniel Kitson talks jive. Obviously.

Anyway, the point is that Russell Howard was getting some ideas from the court of chocolate milk-drinking nerds he was once part of, and it may not always be a coincidence that he makes the same points as Daniel Kitson (though in this case it probably is a coincidence, I get the impression that lots of people were making that joke about Richard Herring). Which brings me to my next point:

- Richard Herring did eventually show up, and when he did, Russell Howard told this story:

Look, a proper Chocolate Milk Gang reference! The nerds of the circuit who were hanging out in Edinburgh sober. That is where the CMG got its name (for anyone who managed to miss the far-too-many times I’ve needlessly explained this before) – it wasn’t a name they gave themselves, it wasn’t a name they got from the media, it was a name they got from other comedians for being sober nerds. Glenn Wool has been specifically credited as the person who coined the term, though Andrew Maxwell and Jason Byrne may have also been involved. Basically, other comedians, including but not limited to Glenn Wool and Andrew Maxwell and Jason Byrne, saw them not getting drunk at every late-night show in Edinburgh the way everyone else did, and called them the Chocolate Milk Gang because they went for milkshakes instead. According to this story, Richard Herring was also one of the comedians who got bored of those guys walking around wearing t-shirts and not being alcoholics.

- Still from a purely reporting the gossip perspective, they got a listener question asking Richard Herring if he still hangs out with Stewart Lee, to which the answer was yes, he went over to his place recently where Stewart’s got a whole family as he and his wife just had a baby. I have no idea if those two actually did stop getting along; I think I’ve read an equal number of stories of them falling out, as I have of stories of them both denying having fallen out and laughing at the gossip mongers who thought they had. Though Stewart’s taken some shots at Richard Herring in a couple of his recent shows that seem a bit harsh for “comedy banter between mates”, especially about a guy who’s not there to reply. “Roast-based banter” sounds a lot harsher if it’s said about someone who’s not in the room, than if it’s said on a panel show with a person there.

On the subject of Stewart Lee’s shots at other comedians:

- Russell Howard: How do you kick back [around Stewart Lee]? Because I always find him quite intimidating. Do you know what I mean? He’s got that kind of… but then, in Montreal he was lovely.

Richard Herring: Yeah. But Stu’s very much like – you know, he’s either lovely or he’s a little bit… you know, concentrating on something, let’s say. So he does vary, even for me. But I think it’s different for… I think, because he’s such a kind of icon of the stand-up circuit, I think a lot of the young stand-ups are pretty intimidated by him…

Russell Howard: Absolutely, we’re all terrified of him.

Richard Herring: But he is actually very nice. But I think he’s also – he’s quite a private person, so I guess if you kind of – if he doesn’t know who you are, he might not be sort of, massively polite to you.

I could have my timelines wrong, but I think this was about two years - maybe three years - before Stewart Lee started doing his Russell Howard murdering African children material. This conversation does put that in a certain light.

- Richard Herring then goes on a whole rant about how they pay too much money for rent in Edinburgh and then there are all these other costs and all the performers lose money on the festival but they  bring lots of money into the city so really the city should be more appreciative of that and should give them discounts in return. Which, it’s my understanding, is a much bigger issue in Edinburgh these days, and is being talked about as a problem that’s gotten much worse recently. I’m sure it has gotten much worse recently, so interesting to hear it talked about as already a problem by 2007.

- Here’s some much less harsh gossip: in Edinburgh 2007, Richard Herring shared a flat with Sarah Kendall, Lucy Porter, and Justin Edwards. A piece of information I relate entirely because it reminded me that Lucy Porter and Justin Edwards are married, which I think is nice. I learned that relatively recently, this person who was great on The Thick of It and various other Iannucci things and this person who’s great on Radio 4, it’s just a nice combination. Good for them. That’s some nice gossip. I hope they’re very happy.

This post, like many of my posts, got longer than I'd planned. But obviously someone has to chronicle what all the comedians in Britain were doing in 2007. You're welcome, everyone.

This is a post about my list of media to watch/hear in the past/future. I'll put a cut here for the many people who justifably do not care about my list of media.

Guess what, everyone? I have, for the first time in over a year, knocked everything off my “to watch” and “to listen to” lists. Obviously, not everything in the world that I ever want to do. But everything that I’d started. Because I’d keep downloading stuff and starting it and then getting into other stuff and putting it on hold and filling up my working folders with it. Well, I spent the last couple of weeks determinedly avoiding starting anything new, so I could go back and finish the “on hold” things.

I'll put a cut here, just for the sake of the many, many people who justifiably do not give a shit about my list of media.

It was mostly a bunch of episodes of the Comedian’s Comedian podcast, which I enjoyed finally hearing. This podcast episode my brother did nearly a year ago, where he talks for two hours about his experiences in comedy and how he believes no one can “make it” in comedy without succumbing to the pressure to cut all their stuff up into tiny chunks for Tik-Tok and shit. It was fucking bleak. But I also downloaded episodes of that same podcast by a few other local comedians I’ve met, include two by the guys who run the local comedy night where I've performed; I listened to those last week too, and they were less depressing. They’re people who like comedy – that’s all I want, really. People around here who perform comedy and sound like they don’t fucking hate comedy.

So there was that. I finished off a few bits of Stewart Lee bootlegs (many of which are on YouTube, I did not realize until recently how many Stewart Lee bootlegs are on YouTube, that’s obviously a fair thing for me to mention because if he had a problem with bootlegs being out there I’m sure Lee could get them taken off YouTube, I will say that I’ve come to appreciate several of his shows far more after hearing the bootlegged versions than I did from the DVD version). Finished all the Lee and Herring stuff. Watched Taskmaster NZ season 4 (I meant to post about it and then I got busy with work and I don’t even think I did that – cliff notes are I didn’t quite agree with the people I’ve seen say it’s as good as season 2, but I did greatly enjoy it). Lots of little things.

I said months ago that once I finally get caught up on things, I’m going to start a new long audio thing. I made a post at the time listing all the things I was considering. The main candidates were/are: John Robins and Ellis James radio/podcasts, Peacock and Gamble podcast, the Adam and Joe things, Do the Right Thing podcast (see, I’m not exclusively into listening to two white guys talk to each other in a studio), and Pappy’s podcasts (there’s the Flatshare thing, but then there are also other things – look into what these are, then listen). I have also had Three Bean Salad recommended to me pretty hard.

I still don’t know which way I want to go – I’m leaning toward Pappy’s or Peacock and Gamble at this point. But I’ve decided not to make that decision yet, because I do have a couple of new things, but shorter things, that I want to start first.

I have all three seasons of Alan Partridge: From the Oasthouse downloaded, so that’s next on the agenda. A few years ago, I watched/heard all the Alan Partridge TV/radio things in chronological order: On the Hour, The Day Today, Knowing Me Knowing You radio show, Knowing Me Knowing You TV show, I’m Alan Partridge, Alpha Papa, Mid-Morning Matters, This Time. I enjoyed them to varying degrees – my biggest comment is that Mid-Morning Matters surprised me because I thought it would be a weaker thing, just a little internet show, but it ended up being one of the best, I thought, and Tim Key was fucking brilliant in it.

Anyway, I’ve never heard any of the other Alan Partridge things. And I’ve recently been told by a reliable source that this latest one is very very good. The three seasons combined are about 15 hours, so that’ll give me some time to decide what I next want to commit hundreds of hours of my life to.

I’ve also had John Finnemore’s Cabin Fever recommended to me quite a bit, and I’ve downloaded that recently too so I think I’ll do that after Alan Partridge. It’s 13 hours, not too long. I know very little of what to expect from that, but enough people whose tastes otherwise overlap with mine have told me it’s very good to make me interested. Also, I’d love to be a comedy fan who rejects the Oxbridge ilk for very good class solidarity reasons, but actually an annoyingly large number of my favourite comedians have been Footlights members, so I’ll probably love John Finnemore.

Anyway, on the subject of my obsession with listening to two white guys talk to each other in a studio, a bunch of weeks ago now I made a post about hearing the Lee and Herring radio show episodes that were broadcast live from Edinburgh in 1994, and how that was cool, a preservation of a bit of Edinburgh Festival history. And then I said that’s not the first time I’ve heard a radio-based audio diary of Edinburgh, as Russell Howard and Jon Richardson did their radio show from Edinburgh in 2007. And I’m sure there were lots of references there that went over my head at the time but that I would now appreciate as a person with an inexplicable obsession with 00s-era Edinburgh comedy. An audio diary of the Chocolate Milk Gang-era Edinburgh Festival from someone who was, at the time, a CMG member (has definitely squandered his cred since then, but Russell Howard was a fully paid-up member for a time). How have I not already combed through that in my efforts to gather and preserve every bit of information I can about CMG history?

I said I should re-listen to some of those episodes to see what references are in them, and then I didn’t do that, because obviously going through old radio show episodes looking for gossip is a waste of time when I have actual comedy/comedy analysis to listen to. But as I’ve just said, at this moment, I don’t have actual comedy to listen to. I finished all the old stuff and I haven’t started the new stuff yet, and I think I’ll keep it that way for a couple of days. Give my brain a short break from keeping track of everything on my lists before jumping into something new. Going back over old stuff doesn’t require the same focus, as my brain doesn’t obsessively insist that I hear/watch every single bit of it in order and file it in all appropriate places and check it all off on a spreadsheet as I go.

I realize I’m making this hobby that I truly love sound like a chore, and it isn’t that, my brain is just compulsive about always focusing on what’s “on my list”, so it’s nice to occasionally have breaks in the list. You see why I so enjoyed hearing the senselessly compulsive thought patterns of 2007-era Jon Richardson. That was a man who understood a list.

So anyway, I think I’ll do that tonight. It’s a long weekend, which I barely noticed last year when I was working from home anyway but those sure seem like a bigger deal when I have to be out of the house for 9-10 hours on weekdays. I’ve got Thanksgiving dinner with family tonight, and then I think I’ll listen to some old things. I’ll let you all know if I discover anything exciting.

[writingwithcolor]

How to avoid orientalism when taking inspiration from a culture (specifically the early Ottaman Empire) for a fantasy civilization?

Hi guys! I’ve been following WritingWithColour for a while now, and I’ve learned a lot about the scope necessary to represent a culture in a way that isn’t just “reskinning” Protestant yt culture. I’m not sure how to apply those principles to a made up people in a fantasy setting, however.

The specific example I’m working with is an invented culture in a standard magic-and-dragons setting. I really love the textile arts, the food and the highly regimented system of government of the early Ottoman Empire (14-15th century); the various imperial methods of forcibly assimilating conquered peoples, while often cruel, add rich dynamics for storytelling.

My worries are that I will either go too shallow, and end up slapping sambars and fezes on the standard pseudo-European fantasy setting for the aesthetic; or that I will go too detailed, and end up with an unmanageable scope. I don’t want to rewrite the whole history of the Ottoman empire as it might occur in a fantasy world; I also want the freedom to tailor the world as needed, not just add dragons to an existing historical culture.

I apologize if this question is too general! Navigating the line between taking inspiration from a culture and just mining it for exotic details is hard. I really don’t want to be disrespectful or othering!

Thanks!

How to avoid orientalism when taking inspiration from a culture (specifically early Ottoman Empire) for a fantasy civilization

Before we begin: none of the below is excusing the genocides perpetrated by the Ottomans, up to and including the Armenian, Greek, and Assyrian genocides. This is a post about worldbuilding, researching, and examining bias. Bias against the Ottomans is a valid stance to have, especially considering how recent their worst genocides were. I absolutely condemn the Armenian, Greek, and Assyrian genocides and all other genocides perpetrated by the Ottomans, of which there are many. 

This post is, instead, about removing fixation from Asian colonialism and showing that colonialism and brutal mass slaughter are not exclusive to any one empire, in order to lower bias when representing an Asian culture and add bias towards European cultures.

That being said, here’s my advice:

Step 1

Spend 5-10-odd years learning about the society, engaging with people from the region on social media, find sources from peoples the group colonized, and look up at least two cultures they engaged with regularly to read those sources

Note: this doesn’t have to be continuous, taking up all your time, just a little bit here, a research book there

Step 2:

Learn about the biases in scholarship and political agendas driving this research both in modern times and historically and adjust your expectations of how accurate the sources are accordingly (this is why you want to find sources from the groups they colonized and cultures they interacted with. But you’ll also have to do this step for them, too)

Again, this doesn’t have to be continuous, taking up all your time, just a little bit here, a research book there

Step 3: 

Write and rewrite the story over that same 5-10 year span as you learn more, and use the writing to figure out what you need to learn.

No, the number of years it takes is not a typo.

Welcome to diversity on hard mode!

Research

This is why WWC in general recommends you start in fantasy Europe and diversify populations within the European context. In those cases, yeah you do have to worry about reskinning a bunch of people with white Christian ideals, but you’re also sticking diverse populations in situations where they would’ve been influenced by white Christian society in real life. Having (some) back and forth between the two societies because they actually interact is perfectly normal. You can also have converts, and/or non-European Christian kingdoms (who would have absolutely traded with Europe; see Ethiopia) so not all of your Christian-influenced people are white.

In these situations, you can spend more along the lines of 1 to 3 years because the documentation is there, often in a language you can understand, and it’s a lot easier to find modern scholars doing research on Europe without having to vet all modern scholarship in an unfamiliar country where you have to figure out both historical context and modern bias colouring those contexts.

Because at least in Europe, you can figure out a little easier when something is pushing a really white supremacist, right-wing agenda; most of the red flags in research we know to look for are based off Europe and/or America. (You’ll still need to do a bit of research for modern context in specifically that country, but they’re all in the same family of awful)

But if you’re looking in, say, Turkey, or Egypt, or Saudi Arabia, then you have to: figure out the modern political context driving scholarship, learn red flags you had no idea even existed, and learn the historical bias that clouded the judgements. All the while very few to none of the sources are even in the Roman alphabet so things can and will get garbled in translation, so read at least two to five translations per work. Not to mention you also have to evaluate any English reporting for bias against those countries because Western English media treats Asian countries very badly.

Yup.

It’s hard.

Recommended reading:

If you want to make diversity a little easier on yourself, I’d suggest reading this guide: Crafting a Fantasy Culture, or the fallacies of using culture in the singular

The Ottomans

The Ottomans absolutely interacted with Europe. If you really want to write about a group of Ottomans, then by all means have thriving trade networks between the Ottomans and Europeans (to mirror what existed irl). Make the Ottomans major characters. Don’t fall into the trap of making all the brown people be terrible and so much less complex than the Europeans. (especially since everyone had their own buckets of bigotry thrown in)

The number of European countries that traded with the Ottomans is very long. You can throw a dart at a map of Europe and find a place that traded with the Ottomans. They outlasted most of Europe’s empires. They outlasted a large chunk of Asia’s empires. They were the primary hub of the Silk Road. If you wanted anything from Asia, it was probably going through the Ottoman empire.

(And here’s an example of source bias that might be invisible unless you look: Europeans who wanted direct trade links to India and China would have a vested interest in saying how bad the Ottomans were, because the worse they painted the empire, the more they could justify funding long sailing expeditions “around the world” to try and bypass them; ever notice how so many modern stereotypes around Arab and West Asian trade brokers is “they charge such markups we should get it directly from the country of origin”? Yeah.)

And while you’re at it, find something like the Spanish Inquisition for the brutal colonizing people you are so interested in. Happened at the same time period. You can also begin to unlearn the Muslims-as-uniquely-terrible-invaders from the Spanish vs Moors. Which, should you decide you still want to write a secondary world Ottoman-based fantasy, will long-term help you to avoid a lot of the stereotypes you would have been taught in school. You can also do this by looking at various literature about the Crusades and how absolutely colonialist the English were in those processes.

The Spanish also perpetuated the first large-scale genocide in modern history with the colonization of the Americas, which is suspiciously absent from a lot of talk about empires that perpetuated genocide because those lists are so Old World, happened-within-our-borders heavy; if it happened across an ocean from the colonizers, or otherwise where they tried to “settle” or “trade with”, it gets a different list. This is another example of source bias that is often invisible: the slave trade and North American colonialism are missing from “lists of worst genocides ever.”

Because you are absolutely going to need to trace your logic for why you are attracted to Ottoman colonization instead of, say, English, Portuguese, Dutch, French, or Spanish. Why is non-European colonization the most interesting to you? Why are their methods of colonialism what you grabbed onto? The Ottomans were brutal, yes, but so were the Spanish and Dutch and English, especially at this time period. 

This stomping out of diversity existed globally, which meant it absolutely happened in Europe. Do people focus on West/South Asian colonialism it because a few centuries of Christian bias against Muslims has made it that Christian colonialism is discussed in a positive light, but Muslim colonialism is discussed in a negative light? 

I don’t know. I’m not saying it’s particularly bad to start from here. It’s where most Christians in the West start from. I am simply pointing out the structure that makes those thoughts, so you can look at the logic and stop seeing Muslim empires as unilaterally so much worse.

Again: the Ottomans were bad. They perpetuated some of the largest-scale genocides in the past 200 years. They perpetuated countless others across their very long history. Ignoring the colonialism that the Ottomans did is revisionist at best and actively destructive at worst.

But European colonial powers were also bad. And the double standards between how European colonialism is treated in fantasy and Asian colonialism is treated in fantasy is what I am speaking to here. Assuming the Ottomans are unique in their genocide and their methods is orientalism.

For an example: the Ottoman empire was a refuge for Jewish people cast out of Europe (especially Spain, during the Inquisition) and tolerated them for a large portion of their history. Yes, they were second class citizens, but being a Jewish second class citizen, religion allowed, was really hard to find at the time. I haven’t looked into it beyond a wikipedia search, but it did happen, and I’d suggest starting any sort of research with this article and its sources: History of the Jews in the Ottoman Empire

Orientalism happens when you start treating Asian cultures as something particularly unique and exotic and strange. As evident by the above, the Ottomans were not particularly unique when it came to how much they colonized. I’m sure if you did more detailed comparisons to who was killing the most for what reason in the same time frame, you’d find some surprises.

I really do strongly suggest, if you want a time period and empire that will be easier to dodge orientalism, the Spanish were doing the same sort of thing at the same time period. The Inquisition was running, they had mass witch-hunts in the rural areas, they were casting out their Jewish and Muslim populations, they were orchestrating genocides in the Americas and mass-enslaving the Indigenous populations in silver mines, and they’re given far too much benefit of the doubt so you won’t be approaching them from a perspective of “oh, look at this brutal place Over There”; you’ll have been taught their justification already.

How this translates to fantasy that isn’t trauma exploitation I am not sure, but feel free to browse the trauma exploitation tag to find out. This is where “sketchy history” (detailed below) will probably be your best friend.

Also, how this translates into not apologizing for the Spanish’s atrocities is something you’re going to have to figure out. It’s the flipside to the fetishization coin: as soon as you’re given a more familiar place that you’re taught one narrative about, you want to justify it. You want to say of course it was only certain extremists, not everyone was that bad. But everyone benefited, didn’t they? 

If you want to give more grace to the Spanish than the Ottomans, then sit with that. Examine it. Break it down. Because avoiding orientalism means seeing how much the same different groups are. This goes double if you’re starting to research a culture based off their assumed deadliness. 

As I say in the guide, no large area was ever completely homogeneous. As I’ve said in other worldbuilding posts, it was very hard to get rid of groups of people unless you had enough population to replace them, because if you killed and/or cast out a group, you had to provide the extra manpower to fill those positions so society would run. Some degree of multiculturalism is more normal—especially in trade hubs like the Ottoman empire—than homogeneity and subjugation.

(Spain actually did undermine its empire a lot by casting out Muslim and Jewish people; they valued ideological purity over a functional kingdom and suffered for it long-term)

Sketchy History

I would like to point out the all-or-nothing mindset in the reply: you don’t need to rewrite a whole history. You just need to know enough to be able to paint broad strokes historical context.

Does European fantasy rewrite all of Europe’s history to account for magic and dragons? Not usually. It just plops a very well known time period down, says “this is how it is like”, and readers nod along because yeah sure of course this period looks like this.

The goal is to get yourself to the point you can feel comfortable broad-strokes painting whatever period you’ve looked at most heavily, have some sense of what major pieces made that period look the way it does, and then write with all the dragons and magic and other stuff with really sketchy handwriting.

It’s fantasy! It doesn’t need to have a few thousand years of history built into the plot. You can absolutely just sketch it in the fantasy context.

But you as an author need to broadly know, okay, the Ottomans came from the fringes of the (Christian) Byzantine empire, and built off a lot of Roman/Byzantine scholarship; they fostered some of the Islamic Golden Age so they would’ve been on the cutting edge of science and medicine for a decent chunk of their early history; they were a major trade hub and would have been extremely cosmopolitan; they had Mughals and various Khanates (Golden Hoard and/or the Chagatai Khanate, I think, for the time period) and the Holy Roman Empire as neighbours. They sat on a critical portion of the Silk Road and would have absolutely controlled trade between Europe and Asia.

Even if you never deep-dive into any of these avenues, you still need to have some idea about them. What does it mean that they were sitting on the Silk Road? It meant everyone and anyone trading across Eurasia would have gone through them, so they’d be pretty wealthy and used to travellers. What did it mean that they had Byzantine territory? It meant they were building off centuries of scholarship starting from Greece and had one of the best libraries in the world in their empire. What did it mean they had the Mughals and various Khanates right there? First gunpowder using empires and they would absolutely take notes.

You get the gist.

But in order to really get a solid deep dive to work beyond your biases and learn enough about others’ biases in your research, it’s definitely going to take years. You are, after all, starting from the negative because you’d been taught the Ottomans were terrible bad people who took over everything and kept threatening Good Christian Europe. You probably weren’t taught about their scholarship, or trade, or the fact they took in Jewish refugees, or any nuance between rules where some were more tolerant and others were more brutal.

You’re going to need to learn a lot of that.

Non-Orientalist secondary world fantasy is a marathon, not a sprint. If you want to just write the story with dragons and colonizers and play with that, the Holy Roman Empire, Spain, France, and England are right there. Look up the non-European populations that lived there, look up how they survived when Christianity was pressing in from all sides, look at what made them tolerated or even celebrated.

You can unlearn orientalism in baby steps. Nothing wrong with that.

And if you really want to write that Ottoman secondary world fantasy? Invest the time to get it right.

~ Mod Lesya

P.S.- I’d suggest looking at resources like Rulers Who Were Actually Good by Overly Sarcastic Productions. It’s a video that breaks down how:

1- rulers in general are people who have a whole lot of bloodshed on their hands because they ordered it, so none of the rulers in history are actually that good when it comes to what they do

2- how the Europe/Asia divide can demonize rulers in Western literature because of political bias and how our English sources get constructed

[thatguy-thisguy-yourguy]

i will literally be ur biggest fan if u write anything remotely brodie mallrats/reader. headcanons fics idc just pLEASE 🙏🙏

I was just thinking about brodie headcanons...you must be one of the alternate reality mes that spawn when I'm sleeping.

Brodie Bruce ~ 

Honestly if you two are out, he’ll probably ask you something like, “Did you see that chic, she was smokin’!” He doesn’t mean anything serious by this, just cannot keep his mouth shut. If you get jealous over this or ny negative feelings, his reassurance is more or less, “Yeah, but I like you” or perhaps he’ll say he loves you depending on how long you’ve been dating. These comments are mostly for small talk. Don’t ask.

If you comment on someone’s looks, he’ll absolutely crack a joke that will either give you the Ick about the person or laugh enough to not focus on that. Listen people, acknowledging that other people are hot is not terrible. Brodie is insecure however and all of these jokes he makes about the person are reflecting that.

If you take him clothes shopping, he will probably suggest things that, let’s just say, would not get you through a cool breeze. Likes whatever you wear though, he couldn’t really care less. Unless you cosplayed him, cause that would be odd.

On that note, you’re going comic shopping. Does not matter if you know anything about them or not because you WILL. You know that one post that’s like “I need 8 pounds of cocaine and 7 male strippers. None of them can be white. I can’t see the coke on them if they are” yeah it’s like that but comics. Honestly the excitement of finding one to add beats the drag of the activity if you’re not into it.

If you listen all the way through his rambles, you’re getting married. Take your pants off. Put this ring on. Kiss him on his musty face cause you’re doing it all right now. Do you know how hard it is to find someone that listens to all that?

Easily jealous, and no, not if you’re looking at someone. There’s a multitude of reasons to look at someone and we’ve already established how looking at people goes. BUT if you’re hanging with whatever gender you’re attracted to and  you’re giggling and “hehe”ing and “haw haw”ing, he’s gonna make himself known-puts an arm around you, kiss on the cheek, things like “I see you’ve met my s/o”. Things like that. He’s a little insecure with that stuff because his personality can be like a weird little sewer rat sometimes and not everyone is into that. He hopes you remain to be

also, here's my work-in-progress brodie bruce playlist

[sound-under-the-sea]

Hey dude, I enjoy your relationships between palisman headcanons greatly, do you have any more? Have a lovely week :]

Hello! Thank you for the ask. I do enjoy thinking about the Palismans and their bonds with each other and their respective witches.

I think it first started with the Clawthorne family and their Palismans. I just liked thinking of how Owlbert and Lilith’s Palisman were opposites in as Owlbert is the straight forward calm one while Lilith’s Palisman is a clever little jokester. It’s more essentially the opposite of Eda and Lilith’s sibling bond. I learned that Ravens were clever tricksters, and Lilith’s Palisman’ design really brought the forefront of incorporating this into their personality. It just really got me thinking of how Owlbert would watch as they tricked people with their dorky expression.

As for with the parent Palismans, Owlbert was fairly close with Dell’s Palisman as they thought they were so cool and dedicated to Dell. After what happens to Dell’s eye, they watched as how his Palisman tried their best to be a good seeing eye Palisman. They may haven’t seen each other in thirty years, as Owlbert had to go be with Eda and comfort her, watching the yellow Cardinal be dedicated to their witch greatly inspired them to be caring and loyal to Edalyn. No matter what.

Oppositely, Lilith’s Palisman and Hawksly not initially close, as the elder Palisman finds Raven penchant to bother his witch to be grating due to her obliviousness towards Lilith, to which Hawksly can agree as they find her personality endearing but oblivious. Hawks, like Ravens, are prominent in Aboriginal and Indigenous culture. Like the White Raven, they represent intelligence and clear vision—in terms of Celtic mythology, but Hawks also represent freedom, creativity and messengers. Which is interesting because by proxy Hawksly and Lilith’s Palisman should get along, but because of Gwendolyn’s obliviousness which puts Hawksly at a difficult position because they think, by the belief that Hawks belief of not changing someone, doesn’t agree with her pushing to cure Eda. They are going to get his own post to discuss how they are just the mostly morally troubled Palisman ever.

On a more lighter note, I think before the family grew apart, the Palismans, like their witches used to do, practice nesting and prefer to be close with each other. They would have a large nest to stay in if they weren’t perched above the head board of their witches’ beds, overlooking them protectively. Hawksly would be enough for Dell and Gwendolyn if Dell’s Palisman wanted to keep the younger ones company. Though after the children left, and Hawksly had to be loyal to Gwendolyn and help her on her “quest” to cure Eda, Dell’s Palisman remained with him. Alone in the house or on work business. They all barely remember the last time they were actually a family together.

I think like their respective witches, they deserved a close bond because they were used to being around each other and also having small squabbles like with their competition of who has the best pile. After both Eda and Raine both got Palisman, Owlbert probably spent time with Raine’s Palisman. Now that I am thinking about it…it’s odd that even before Raine decided to join a Coven, we never see their Palisman. Now I am just thinking of how Owlbert and Raine’s Palisman would glance exasperatedly at each other at these lover birds.

Eda, after flirting with Raine: I totally nailed it, Owlbert. I was cool as ice.

Owlbert, after watching Eda being a blushing fool for an hour: Yeah…Cool as can be…

*Elsewhere.*

Raine: I completely screwed it up, didn’t I? I am such a bumbling fool.

Raine’s Palisman: You’re an adorable fool and you did amazing! I’m pretty sure I saw her be a blushing mess too, if it helps.

Raine, chuckling: Thank you.

Outside of the Clawthornes, I think it’s interesting how Flapjack inherited Caleb’s protective qualities because when you are introduced to them, they are with the other abandoned Palismans. Do tou think they’re protective of Clover, Emmiline Bailey Marcostimo and Ghost before they found their witches and reconnected after Hunter joined the current Hexside gang? They are probably one of the oldest of the group and were trying to live up to Caleb’s values. Even if they couldn’t save him. They would always look out for the younger Palismans with a passion, making sure they are ok, bringing lost ones to the Bat Queen. After being apart of the current Hexside Gang with Hunter, they took initiative role of looking after their fellow Palisman friends as Hunter became more protective of his friends. They both probably took a long time to warm up to others because Flapjack was alone for a long time and still upset of their failure to protect their witch. Hunter because no one ever trusted him or berated him. They both found new families amongst their friends.

Also was Clover abandoned by their previous witch? Did they not seem like what they wanted? Or did their previous witch die and they were all alone? Is Emmiline Bailey Marcostimo shy? Do they tend to hide when they feel as though their disappointed their witch? Are they a people pleaser?

I just think Palismans are cool and it’s interesting how much symbolism as well as animal traits you can play with. I also wonder if you can do Palisman angst because exploring what they think they are supposed to be or their beliefs being tested as the Boiling Isles tests their witches fascinating to me. There’s just so much you can explore.

Thank you for sending in the ask. I hope you have a nice day/evening.

[shotorozu]

hellolololo!¡! so i recently saw this video where their

s/o goes on to omegle and the other person from omegle like goes “hi ur cute” or “u have snap?” and then their boyfriend just enters the frame,, can u do that to todobakudeku separately :3

if u dont understand u can check this out 😭 https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSJdEqc7V/ tyy ❤️❤️

“ur kinda cute” on omegle

(tiktok prank)

character(s) : todoroki shouto, bakugou katsuki, midoriya izuku (bnha)

part two — part three

legend : [Y/N = your name] they/them pronouns used, quirk not mentioned

headcanon type : fluff, crack — ‘x reader’

note(s) : i love these types of requests 🤩 so i plan on making 3 parts with this (oh and don’t worry, i’ll finish the other tiktok prank series i have going on at the moment)

also, there’s no proofread on this so if there’s any typos or mistakes, sorry! i’ll be editing them in the morning

┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

todoroki shouto

okay so, the entire tiktok idea was planned— but the part where shouto came in surely wasn’t staged

so, being a curious young person— you wanted to make a tiktok, where you went on omegle just to speak to people for fun

and inside of your head, you’re kinda thinking that “this is dumb, omg im going to get flashed on there.” also while you were setting up your laptop

but you just used the appropriate tags and !! you were set off for an adventure

you set your phone aside, and you filmed most of the experience— cutting out the not so interesting encounters out of your tiktok

and then came on a dude, who had a,, unique reaction. he didn’t seem all that fishy— until he asked you for your snap (your social medias, essentially)

“you’re kinda cute, y’know. how did i not see you before?”

you shake your head, “oh no no! i appreciate your compliment, but i’m very much taken!” your mind immediately flashing back to the image of your icyhot boyfriend

“nahh you’re lying! i don’t see any dude back there”

oh,, and that was because shouto was out getting snacks 🧎 “no really dude, i appreciate it! i’m very much taken and being disloyal is out of the question!”

this dude just kept insisting and insisting, and due to the struggle— you weren’t able to hear the door knob jiggle

it seemed to be that his advances came to an end, and your lover made an entrance— a mop of red and white peaked out from the door frame

and the dude literally got scared and ended the conversation 💀 because you really weren’t lying!

you also figured that it was time to end your omegle shenanigans, and finish the tiktok— because your boyfriend was already there “hi love, who were you talking to?”

you closed your laptop, and offered him a smile “i was on omegle for a tiktok! i’m glad you’re back.” you discard your phone, wrapping your arms around his torso (and also making sure you don’t delete the draft)

shouto doesn’t say a lot, but he immediately accepts your touch, setting the groceries aside.

he doesn’t question the fact that you were on omegle because well,, he had to get used to your shenanigans on tiktok SOMEHOW

a few hours later, you posted the tiktok— and almost immediately, the tiktok gains a lot of attention

“i love how your boyfriend drove the last dude away 💀💀” “man the last dude didn’t take the hint 🗿” “your boyfriend indirectly protected you! we need more guys like him.”

you snicker at the comments, which ultimately gathered shouto’s attention “what’s up, love?”

you show him the tiktok, “the tiktok did well.” he’ll comment calmly, but shouto’s lowkey MAD ?? that a dude had the audacity. but he’s just glad that you’re happy just maybe,, don’t go on omegle anymore 💀

“love— next time, let me in on your tiktoks.” he says, running a thumb along your cheek lightly. because he was actually quite entertained, putting everything aside

bakugou katsuki

as if bakugou katsuki would let you go on OMEGLE, a place that’s known for having the sketchiest people to ever exist— but make it virtual

but being with you made him realize that well,, if you want to do something, you’ll go through lengths just to do it.

even the great bakugou katsuki can’t really stop you. whatever makes you happy— but oh, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t highly discourage it

which lead you to go on omegle for a tiktok in the other room, while bakugou exercised in the very next room.

when you told him that you wanted to film a tiktok, bakugou only shrugged— “don’t do overly dumb shit.” was what he only told you and he left the door open too

you then set up your phone and laptop, applied the appropriate tags— and went off to make your tiktok

you only filmed the interesting encounters, and the people you met on there were very diverse in personality and just,, in general.

after the 4th encounter, then came a rather interesting dude. he didn’t seem all that ordinary but he wasn’t spectacular. he was just nice

and the conversation was rather normal— until he started asking for your socials “putting everything aside, do you have social media? you’re really cute.”

you reject immediately, “oh no, i appreciate your words but— i already have a boyfriend.”

you just have to hope that he noticed bakugou walking back and forth with equipment, but with his next words— that doesn’t seem to be the case

“i didn’t see anyone back there, a simple no would’ve been sufficient instead.” uh oh

“no really, i—” and before things escalated, katsuki’s head peaked through the door frame, freshly out of the shower “are you almost done, idiot?”

the dude literally looked behind you, and thought “oh shit, their boyfriend is bakugou fucking katsuki.” because bakugou is famous for,, multiple different reasons

the dude’s camera shakes in terror, “oh uhm,, it was nice meeting you!” not long before he dips from of the conversation, never to be seen again.

closing your laptop— you end the tiktok while bursting into laughter, and this action just confused katsuki ever further. he heard you speaking to someone, and when he looked, the person was nowhere to be seen

“what are you laughing at??”

“nothing katsuki, i was laughing at the tiktok i just made.”

then— you figured that it would be best to tell katsuki now that you were on omegle (long story short, he wasn’t pleased)

he scolded you that you shouldn’t be on omegle, but let’s be honest, he couldn’t stay mad at you— so he just cuddles the frustration away

when you upload the tiktok the following hours, it blows up pretty quickly—with comments like “LOL IS THAT BAKUGOU KATSUKI??” “he had guts until he saw bakugou katsuki 💀” “tbh i’d be scared too”

and when you report the news the katsuki, he smirks— “as he should be.”

midoriya izuku

at this point, izuku is very much used to your shenanigans on tiktok. he’s very supportive of whatever you do all in all

but, about omegle,,, yeah,, as much as he trusts you— he does not trust omegle. he’s aware that it’s a shady place, and he doesn’t advise that you do go on that website bc he cares

so when you brought up the tiktok idea, he proposed that he’d be there, right beside you just to monitor if anyone’s being weird :)

and that’s great! because you also wanted to ask if he wanted to be a reoccuring guest in your tiktok— and of course, what kind of boyfriend would he be if he opposed?

he helps you set up your laptop and phone— all of that sort of stuff, and then you guys were off to make an interesting tiktok

oh, but izuku did apply the appropriate tags because he didn’t want you to see odd things he was secretly nervous but,, you were very ethusiastic, so he was too.

the first several people were interesting in their own way— especially with their reactions to your boyfriend appearing on screen

usually, they’d back off with, and comment on how cute your boyfriend is— wishing the both of you well before calmly leaving to meet new people,

that was how it was, until you met this person in particular.

he sounded very,, egotistical— i wouldn’t say that because you’ve just met the dude, but he acted like everyone wanted him or it sounded like that

then he says, “you definitely have a phone number, right? you’re cute, just my type.” wkdksmd this is awkward since izuku’s right beside you, but he’s just outside of the frame

then, izuku pops out of the frame— in all his cute ass glory, he gives a small wave to the not so pleased stranger

“please, that’s your boyfriend?” he scoffs, “with those arms, he looks like he could be your little brother! now let me ask again—”

it’s really weird?? because have you seen izuku’s gainz?? and this dude’s audacity is extraordinary.

but little did this guy know, he’s looking at midoriya izuku— and,, you’ve seen his performance in the sports festival.

the dude takes another glance at your boyfriend, who’s sitting there right beside you— and he realizes who he was talking to

“oh shit, you’re—” and before the both of you could realize it, he nopes out of the conversation.

after that encounter, you burst into a fit of laughter— the look on izuku’s face being priceless. “you should’ve seen your reaction!”

“haha, i guess he knew who i was,” he says bashfully, cheeks warming up. because it registered in his mind that people actually knew who he was. “can you,, upload the tiktok later? i want to hug you— i mean! if that’s fine.”

of course it’s fine! you oblige, and give him all the hugs he could ever need

after cuddling with izuku, you do upload the tiktok— and an hour later, your tiktok notifications blow up

the tiktok all in all gathered 1M views, 780K likes, and over 1,500 comments— most of them saying stuff like

“your boyfriend’s reaction was so cute?? i know he looked like he was going to punch him through the screen but 👀” “last dude was just not it.” “LMAO HE REALLY TRIED IT” “is your boyfriend IZUKU MIDORIYA??”

when you excitingly showed him the tiktok’s results, he was certainly pleased— because most of the comments were positive, and also because the tiktok’s results made you happy

“i’m glad that it did well!” he’ll sigh in relief, pressing a kiss against your temple, let’s just not go on there ever again

┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

likes and reblogs are appreciated, thanks for reading!

i do not own bnha/mha and it’s characters. boku no hero academia/my hero academia belongs to horikoshi kohei, i only own the writing and i do not profit off of my hobby

do not plagiarize, reupload, translate, or use my works for audio readings without permission

[attex]

Do you have any tips for shading? your shady is very pretty and i want to do something similar!

ok im gonna be honest im incompetent as fuck so be patient .

my ultimate rule is that you need to do everything and constantly fuck around and keep moving like youre a shark because if you stop any time you will literally die .

step 1: boot up etterna

step 2: play a song just a tiny bit too much out of your skill range, fail

step 3: remember you were supposed to be drawing

step 4: quit the game

step 5: open drawing software

so this is gonna be odd to explain,

what i usually do is have the biggest color (aka the primary color of the thing im painting in) depending on the way i want to make the shading i obviously use a darker color of sorts . it depends on how i want to make the lighting look anyways .

important to mention here is that i try to choose colors that aren't exactly the color that's there (i always do this for colors like white)

look at this that shit is just straight up dusty pink

whats most important is that i just do whatever the fuck i want and sometimes choose colors that would be considered odd or something because otherwise its boring as balls . fuck around and find out

the darker color is usually hue shifted as well, i would never ever try to use the same color hue but darker for the shading directly, idc about shit it is not satisfying when i do that .

step 6: i forgot the steps they existed for the intro of this post only

okay . also note that i used a very similar color to the main color,

i hue shifted it ever so slightly, you can do this with more of a hue shift but MAKE SURE ITS CONTRAST IS LOW

blending in areas that need them aka the shadow isnt sharp . also dont blend everything you will regret your whole life choices if you dont keep a good amount of shadows sharp than not (this is obvious but its necessary to state for some people)

so this looks bland af right . yeah it does so i obviously need to do something aka slap more shit on it .

take the shading color or something

hue shift and move across to make the contrast less clear (if i didnt move it from the spot the original one was in it would make it be a darker color which i didnt want)

now it looks weird as fuck which is what i want . its an extra amount of color that might seem unnecessary but thru doing this i feel my soul thrive personally so i put on more and more colors with minimal contrasting as much as i like

^ this is how it wouldve looked if i didnt adjust the brightness/etc. when shifting the hue, it doesnt look as satisfying unless im gonna do another layer of darkening on that shadow (which i wasnt gonna do, this was just to add extra colors)

this is how it usually ends up looking in a mass scale, notice the bunch of similar colors (aside from the shading color or whatever) that are shifted in hues, the only reason its not jarring is bcz they Nearly have no contrast with one another it just looks trippy.

this Adding low contrast differently hued colors is just how i do anything really, i also often reuse the colors from one spot and put it in another even if they are barely related

see here i mushed very greyed greens with purples and slight pink tinges which look much more vibrant when next to one another (its good to have it be contrasting sometimes but do it with some control)

you have to keep a balance of hues and contrasting and lack of contrasting when painting, a balance of sharp and smooth blending and the like, a balance of light and dark

but most importantly you cant just keep doing the same shit over and over without any variation, you cant keep the balance being just black and white, sometimes you gotta fuck around and go against "rules" and especially go against everything i just said

not all colors interact the same way with one another thus need attention all on their own and if you dont change anything by experimenting its not gonna work

pro tip (???): i always say i slap colors onto things randomly and thats kinda true because i genuinely mess around by putting on more and more colors to stimulate my brain (whom is starving)

its up to you how much you do this.

i didnt necessarily explain how i shade exactly but i did *try* to explain how i ""pick"" the colors and such for it hope you enjoyed my ted talk . sorry if i repeated shit bcz im not proofreading this bye

[oh-hush-its-perfect]

Alex Fierro's Introduction Full Breakdown

Okokok so. This is going to go full English-professor mode, where I'm drawing conclusions that are gonna seem a little far-fetched. That's what's fun about media analysis! I can say something is a symbol, and even if I don't have enough faith in RR's competency to know if he meant for it to be a symbol, it's still true! That being said, a lot of these choices I'm sure are intentional, either at a literal or subliminal level. Page numbers are going to be used not to assert a kind of authority or whatever— this is a Tumblr post, not an essay— but to help readers find the pages I'm referencing in case they'd like to do some digging of their own. Also, this is going to be really long. Really sorry to anyone with ADHD; I might make an audiofile of this so you can get the information without having to read the whole thing. With all that, let's get into it!

To kick off, let's talk about Alex being in the form of a cheetah when she first meets Magnus. Of course, there's the obvious impact of him seeing her but only so breifly, as well as introducing the conflict between her and the rest of Hall 19. But that could have easily been accomplished by almost any animal. The choice of a cheetah being implicated implies two qualities of Alex that will be recurrent throughout the two books she's in: 1. She has a tendency to run away, as we'll later learn when she describes how she became homeless, and 2. To Magnus, she's elusive. She can't be caught or held down. The event that shows this so transparently is how Alex refuses to define their relationship at the end of the series, despite it clearly surpassing the normal bounds of friendship.

But the cheetah isn't the animal Alex is in the form of when Magnus first gets a good look at her; she's a weasel. Weasel's bring up all kinds of connotations: ferocity, slickness, a lack of charm. When we want to describe someone as an untrustworthy person, we call them a weasel. RR had Alex take this form to play up her comrades' feeling of distrust towards her. She could be a double-crosser. But paradoxically, the up-front and vicious mannerisms of a weasel also have a transperency. She does not try appealing to her Hallmate's sense of goodwill because she doesn't have anything to gain from it. So even though there is the implication that she might be an antagonist, there's also evidence from her actions and mannerisms that she isn't. The weasel's long and skinny frame also allow for a smooth transition into Alex's actual body, which is convenient.

As Alex transforms into her usual human form, Magnus describes her as "a regular human teen, long and lanky, with a swirl of dyed green hair, black at the roots, like a plug of weeds pulled out of a lawn" (pg. 50). That simile at the end is of particular interest. Let's compare it to another time Magnus describes Alex's hair, in Ship of the Dead: "Her hair had started to grow out, the black roots making her look even more imposing, like a lion with a healthy mane" (pg. 136). By contrasting these two different examples, we can see the development of Magnus and Alex's relationship. The first time he sees her, he thinks of her hair as something nasty— note the word choice "weeds." Later on, though, he becomes more affectionate towards her, more complentary. The immedient negative reaction is less his actual impression, though, and more the reaction he expected to have based on everyone else's reaction to Alex.

Her clothes are equally as interesting; as Magnus describes it, Alex wears "battered rose high-tops, skinny lime green corduroy pants, a pink-and-green argyle sweater-vest over a white tee, and another pink cashmere sweather wrapped around the waist like a kilt" (pg. 50). Aside from the obvious fact that this outfit is a) bizzare, b) fire, and c) Alex's signature colors, which add a layer of style to what can otherwise be a somewhat boring series fashion-wise (excuse me, Blitz), the outfit reveals a crucial facet of Alex's backstory in a kind of subtle way. These are expensive clothes, like the Stella McCartney dress in Alex's room. Note the mention of fabrics (corduroy, cashmere) and patterns (argyle). These indicate wealth and status. Even the high-tops; shoes like that don't come cheap. But I'd like to return to the very first word of the section: "battered." Alex's wardrobe show-cases a proximity to wealth, but also shows that that proximity has been strained and lengthened, maybe for an extended period of time. Alex dresses like a rich person, but she isn't one. Least, not anymore.

The last word of that outfit-introduction is also of interest: "kilt." At the current moment, Magnus thinks that Alex is male. No one has indicated otherwise to him. Everyone has been referring to Alex with he/him pronouns. Samirah called Alex her "brother" (pg. 29). His first thought in seeing what he at first perceives as a guy with a jacket wrapped around the waist is That looks like a kilt. This thought tells us about Magnus: despite being open and accepting, he still has some lingering notions of gender conformity from his years in wider American society.

Magnus also indicates that the outfit "reminded me of a jester's motley, or the coloration of a venomous animal warning the whole world" (pg. 50). This is rather self-explanatory, but it's still worth noting that Magnus sees the outfit as something bizzare, strange, and even perhaps comical. This places Alex at odds with the other people Magnus has met. It also reveals that Magnus has zero fashion sense. But we already knew that.

After finishing up staring at the ensemble, Magnus finally gets around to actually looking Alex in the face. First Magnus says that he "forgot how to breathe" (pg. 50), which, yeah, relatable. This is justifed by saying that Alex has the same face as Loki, but the very same sentence that asserts that that's the case also suggests an alternative reason: Alex has "the same unearthly beauty" as her father. Here we can see the beginnings of Magnus's attraction to Alex, though at this point, he still has a lot of internalized homophobia. Though there's certainly some truth in that Magnus was unnerved by Alex's resemblance to Loki, the idea that Magnus pointed out that Alex was pretty without elaborating on that thought until about a chapter later— after he was informed that Alex was presently a girl— can tell us a lot about how Magnus perceives sex and beauty.

Of course, Alex's eyes are given special attention. She has cool eyes; what can I say? But I'd like to focus in on how Magnus here depicts Alex's heterochromia as "completely unnerving" (pg. 50). Again, let's contrast this with how he describes them after getting to know Alex a little better in Ship of the Dead. In Chapter 3, Magnus describes "[Alex's] dark brown eye and his amber eye like mismatched moons cresting the horizon" (pg. 25). Once again, this shows the development of their relationship— but this time, it's in a much more personal way. Eyes are the windows to the soul; they are culturally important and biologically important in inter-personal connections. In you look into someone's eyes, you're giving them your full attention, and you're implying a kind of closeness. The way that Magnus describes Alex's eyes in the second passage is downright intimate. At this point, he is in love with Alex, and it is clear when contrasting the two descriptions.

As my last point, I'd like to discuss Alex's first words on page: "'Point that rifle somewhere else, or I will wrap it around your neck like a bow tie'" (pg. 51). First of all, Alex saying this with a "perfect white smile" (pg. 51) on his face implies that she is used to being threatened. She is not afraid of being shot; she counters the promise of an attack with a promise of her own. This pleads the question: why is Alex accustomed to violence? What events of her past or qualities of her life have brought her to this point? The threat itself reveals Alex's trauma from being genderfluid in a society with rigid gender norms, as well as her antagonistic relationship with her father. Magnus makes a comment that Alex "might actually know how to tie a bow tie, which was kind scary arcane knowledge" (pg. 51). Like Alex's wardrobe, the idea that she may have experience in high-class fashion also implies her former status as a rich kid.

I could go on. I could break apart Alex saying "'Pleased to meet you all, I guess'" (pg. 51). There is a wealth of information in this short page span that tells us things about Alex Fierro in the present moment, quietly demonstrates things about her past, and characterizes the narrator Magnus Chase. This passage is also effective in hindsight in marking the progress of Magnus and Alex's relationship.

But I'd like to take a step back and look at not the pieces, but the whole picture. Alex Fierro gets a full page of pure description— her outfit, her face— and about a chapter of introduction. This comes after several chapters of build-up. Alex Fierro is an important character you need to keep your eyes on. Alex Fierro is emotionally significant to the main character, Magnus Chase. Alex Fierro is one of the most developed and well-rounded characters that Rick Riordan has ever written— heck, she's one of the best characters in middle-grade books period. The extended emphasis on her and her alone tells us exactly what role she's going to play in this story: she's the star.

[that-one-weeb-but-starwars]

A ball| Tup

Note: they did not need to make him that Pretty

Warnings: no not really, just Tup and Y/n fallin in love and steamy scene at the very end but kinda not really, also this is really long

Reader: female

Part 1 | 2 (in the works)

"Checkmate," Satine spoke.

"Damn it..." Y/n muttered, hand on her chin as Satine had one yet again another game.

Satine smiled at her, as Y/n tried reading the board seeing how it had exactly happened.

"Duchess, excuse me." A guard interrupted their leisurely game outside in the guards of the castle.

"It's no problem, what seems to be the problem?" Satine questioned.

"The preparations for the ball are underway, the royal seamstress says your outfits are done and asks if you both can approve of them."

"Yes of course," Satine spoke, two more guards walking up with boxes.

"Oh. no, I'm quite okay," Y/n responded, resetting the black and clear glass pieces.

"Y/n, you are turning 19, my dear, you'll need to look presentable," Satine spoke.

"Dutchess I believe I look presentable, I'm quite comfortable like this as well," Y/n told.

"I know my sweet child, you've always been comfortable with the bare minimum, but please, let me spoil you for one day," Satine responded.

Y/n was quiet as she set the final piece down, "very well..."

Satine smiled as she stood up to look inside the box and approve the dress, Y/n sat in thought, Satine wasn't her mother, no they looked drastically different after all, Y/n had been left in a bush in the palace gardens, Satine finding the child alone and in silence, busying herself with one of the flowers. Satine had gladly kept the child inside the palace walls until a parent came along, but no one ever came and Satine was suddenly a mother.

"Mistress." The guard spoke snapping her out of thought.

"Oh uh, yes." Y/n spoke standing up from her seat, and looking at the creme outfit with barely a glance, "Yes, it's beautiful, tell the Seamstress 100 thanks."

The guard nodded covering the box as they all bowed and left, Satine frowned, "Come walk. Let's talk my daughter."

"General Skywalker, do, do we really have to go as well?" Tup questioned, droids handing them all dark blue suits almost black in color, and matte.

"Yes, Obi-Wan was double security at this event for the Dutchess, and I agree with him," Anakin spoke, "Separatist parties will be there, Duchess Satine has a knack for being able to convince people, and with Padame they're practically an unstoppable team."

"But," Tup spoke, "Sir a, a party?"

"Diplomatic party, you'll be fine Tup."

Anakin then walked away to let his boys get ready and go get himself ready.

"I look good," Fives spoke checking himself out in the mirror.

"It's nice to wear something besides armor." Hardcase commented, "Makes me feel like a civie."

"A civie that just has thousands of replicas." Dogma argued.

"Oh get the stick out your ass," Jesse argued, "We can have fun for the one time in our life on the job,"

"Hey," Kix placed a hand on Tup's shoulder, "You okay?"

"Huh? Yeah," Tup spoke, "Crowds, uh aren't my thing."

"I'll make sure Rex posts you on the patio outside, you won't be around too many people then," Kix told.

"No, It's fine, I'm on the job- I'll, uh...just focus on that," Tup responded.

"Are you sure?"

Tup nodded as Kix returned the nod in understanding, going back to dressing himself, Tup went over to his bunk to dress, he'd admit, even though he was the same as everyone else in that room, he still felt shy, being a bit leaner than the others he started pulling his armor off to dress in the new outfit, simply putting the outfit over his blacks.

"What- No! Hey I want a titty window!" Fives argued.

"No," Echo demand, buttoning up his brother's shirt fixing Fives vest as well.

Tup stayed silent as he buttoned up the shirt, tucking it into the slacks and putting on the matching vest.

"OH Ho HO!" Fives whistled, "Look at Tup!"

"Yeah, thanks," Tup spoke, fixing the collar of his shirt, and pushing up the sleeves.

"Come on! Let your hair down! We're going somewhere fancy!"

"I'm good." Tup spoke

"He's way to excited for this." Dogma protested causing Tup to chuckle.

"You look nice." Tup commented.

"Uh. Yeah I guess." Dogma spoke.

The two had gotten close due to one another due to being not only regular troopers with no rank, but due to there quietness.

"OH HO HO! LOOK WHO JUST CAME IN! GENERAL TANO!"

The boys turned there head whistling playfully.

"Bad bitch is the house."

She wore a pinstrip pant suit, the lines orange on white fabric and a pair of heels. She laughed.

"We're almost there." She spoke, "Skyguy wants us on the transports now."

Tup followed suit of everyone else. Everyone doing as asked, it was odd, seeing everyone dressed up all fancy and nice.

Y/n sighed.

"Look up madame. They'll be plenty fine gentlemen there." A maid tried to pursuade, "or a woman if you'd prefer."

"Yes. I know." Y/n responded mindlessly, nose stuck in the book about game tactics, her goal to be her mother, "mhm. I've never tried that before."

The maid sighed finishing y/n's hair in the crowned braid.

"Look look beautiful."

"Mhm."

The maid frowned, and there was a knock on the door. It opened as Satine came in, the maid bowing and leaving quickly.

"You're nose still stuck in a book. You remind me much of Obi-wan."

"Is the party over yet?" Y/n questioned flipping the page.

"It hasnt even began my dear." Satine spoke, expecting a comment back Y/n kept silent sitting infront of her simple vanity it black in color and matched the bench she sat on.

Satine walked over, taking the open spot next to Y/n.

"What is wrong me dear?" Satine inquired, "You don't avidly read strategic books unless something is wrong."

Y/n sighed, marking the book with a string and setting it down.

"I. I just don't wish to go." Y/n responded.

"It is much bigger than that isn't it?" Satine refered, catching Y/n in her lie.

"I." Y/n sighed, "I am nervous."

"For what my darling?"

"People." Y/n responded, "I. This. People...it's...I dont have the skills."

"Well of course you do,"

"I've never been out the palace walls, I've never fallen in love, I've never been taken advantage of- I just- Don't know anything about people," y/n defended "I've never even seen another sential species besides the holograms and images in my books that use words. I know every launage out there but have never met there people- I-"

"Calm down, take a deep breathe." Satine soothed, "everything will be fine. I will be at your side. The whole time, and you know me. Don't you?"

Y/n nodded as Satine smiled, "You're turning 19 my dear, becoming a young woman. You can do this, and I will guide you through whatever you ask."

Y/n only nodded once more, "now. Lets put our. Pain killing heels on and make haste shall we? Guest are arriving and I'd like to introduce you to your very first group of friends, but first."

Y/n watched as Satine pulled out a box, "I had something much. Much more elaborate my birthday, but you I know. Like to keep things as simple as possible."

Y/n took the small box in hand. Opening the golden box there was a small golden crown, it reminded her of a laurel wreath, yet without as many leaves, a few littered around the gold band with a stone that was ment to set on her forehead.

"For you're love of nature a green stone." Satine spoke.

"Its beatiful, thank you." Y/n spoke softly pulling it out of its box.

"Allow me." Satine spoke, y/n handing it over and bowing her head, Satine with a smile set the item on her head.

Y/n raised her head back up, "quiet beatiful you have become."

Y/n smiled smallly, "now. Shall we make haste? To make new friends?"

Y/n nodded smally as Satine smiled.

With that they were off, y/n following Satine dressed up nice, and thanked maker for the soleless sandles given to her instead of heels.

Y/n wouldn't lie, when General Kenobi arrived as they walked out onto the royal landing pad she found no interest in him, bowing her head respectfully, she did the same with Anakin. A bit more intrigued with Ashoka, but nothing pictures hadn't depicted. A man stood next to Anakin, who was soon introduced as Captain Rex. Y/n welcomed and thanked him for coming, but besides that, she was silent during the conversation.

"Sir, apologies for interrupting."

"It's fine, Jesse go ahead," Anakin spoke, Y/n watching the man with a large tattoo on his face gave a brief report to his general as the two joined the tight group of talkers.

Y/n was intrigued with the man next to him, hair tied back in a bun as his brother in arms talked. He too seemed the silent type, staying behind Jesse's shoulder rather than next to him, it was a slight difference Y/n realized.

"Lady Y/n, these are two are some of my finest men, Jesse and Tup."

"Lady Y/n" Jesse spoke bowing his head.

"Nice to meet you," Tup spoke nervously, his hand outreached for a handshake, Jesse quickly pulling his brother's hand down who was already a nervous wreck.

"Apologies for my brother! He doesn't know how to act!" Jesse scolded elbowing Tup slightly who was already shaming himself mentally and Y/n could sense it, but Jesse was already dragging him away with an insane amount of apologies as he left. 

Y/n watched as they got far enough away to where Jesse had started to drag Tup by the collar of his shirt.

"Lively bunch aren't they?" Satine questioned Y/n who nodded.

"My apologies Duchess, Lady Y/n. The 501st is not very big on tradition, and neither is there general."  Obi-Wan scolded as Anakin shrugged.

"It's okay." Y/n finally spoke up, causing heads to turn, "I, um, apologizes. Duchess if I may."

"Yes, you can go ahead," Satine spoke worried for the girl as she rushed off quickly. 

"Will she be okay?" Ashoka questioned.

"She has no social skills, and on top that, no friends her age," Satine spoke solemnly, "I wish to help her but she's a closed book." 

"Have I got the perfect trooper for her to make friends with," Anakin responded

"You're not sending Fives or Hardcase over to her, if anyone to watch her it'll be Cody, at least he can stay on task," Obi-wan argued.

"I think me and my master have the same idea," Ashoka smirked.

"I- I'm sorry general- Me?" Tup questioned.

"Yes I need a clone with Lady Y/n at all times, and since she seems to like you after a slip up that could have cost us a whole war," Anakin spoke, "You're watching her,"

"General! I. I can't watch her! I. I. I. I have patrol!" Tup tried to argue.

"Kix is on patrol now, she's supposedly back in her room," Anakin spoke.

"Her- what!?" Tup argued.

"one of the guards will escort you thanks again."

"Wait! General!" Tup argued but he was walking away and waving to Tup happily. 

"Are you the clone trooper known as Tup?" A guard asked walking up to him.

"yes, but wait a minute!-"

"This way." 

Tup had no option but to follow a guard at his back and his front as they escorted him to the room. Anxiety racked his body, his hands clammy and squeezing each other as he gulped, the guards stopping and knocking.

"Mistress your escort is here."

"Oh, yes," Y/n spoke quietly, "He may come in alone."

The guards posted outside her room as Tup pushed one of the doors opened, he walked in silently and closed the door behind him carefully.

Looking straight on the large french doors were opened to a patio. Walking towards the open doors he found Y/n sitting on the floor a stack of books beside her with a chessboard by her side, her knees raised to her chest as her dress was laid out around her.

"I'm uh, your guard for the dance," Tup spoke, his thumb pressing into his palm.

"You can go back, I'm not going," Y/n told him, her mouth and jaw covered by her arms propped on her knees.

"oh, uh..." Tup spoke, not knowing what to do.

Y/n looked beside her, "You can sit, maybe you'll get in less trouble that way?"

He nodded in agreement, taking a seat on one side of the chess board. They sat in silence against the wall. Tup looking down at the pieces of the board set up on their respective sides, his clammy hands couldn't help but move a piece. Y/n looked overhearing the crystal click on the board. Looking down she picked up a piece and moved it, Tup moving his next piece without a word. Y/n looked down at the board, her legs falling from her chest and onto the ground flat as she looked over in thought. Picking up her next piece she took his pawn, setting it down on the side.  As they played they could hear the talk of guests starting to come to the palace. Due to where Y/n's room was it wasn't much to hear, just the occasional burst of loud laughter. 

"Ah yes! Yes!" One laughed spoke loudly, "I love the stars!"

Y/n suddenly came with an outburst the came with the man's hearty laugh, "I have loved the stars to foundly-"

"-to be fearful of the night." Tup finished moving his next piece.

Y/n's moved her gaze up softly then chuckled, "Mythology lover?"

"When I have the time, I mostly learn through tell and hear," Tup responded watching Y/n capture another piece.

It was silent again as Tup captured yet another piece, his eyes drifting over to her stack of books. Eyes glancing over the titles.

"H.P Lovecraft?" Tup questioned Y/n nodding.

"I find his stories interesting, I enjoy the horror genere as a whole." Y/n smiled moving her next peice, "do you like horror?"

Tup nodded, "I do occasionally, again hear and tell mostly."

Y/n nodded, "come with me."

Y/n stood up, walking into her room, Tup watching her.

"Come on." Y/n gestured holding out a hand for him.

He took it gently and was pulled up from his spot on the floor. Y/n led him by the hand into her room and towards a wall pushing on a certain spot a small door opened. Y/n leaned down walking through the door as Tup followed, Y/n closed the door behind them.

"Woah."

Y/n smiled, "the palace library."

"I am the only one who's ever in here." Y/n contuined.

The two walked side by side, out from the side of the room and into the center of the room. Tup turned around to speak, but he watched her pass a dusty window, the sun set passing in through cobwebs and dusty, shining on her think crown, her dress flowly and made up of multiple thin layers of fabric.

He gulped as she turned her head, stopping in her spot.

"What's wrong?"

"I," he started but stopped for a momment, "My name, its. It's Tup. I don't know if you-"

"Remember you?" Y/n questioned, "I do."

She walked up to him a hand extended, "Y/n."

He smiled as they shook hands.

"Tup." He introduced himself once again as they chuckled lightly.

They pulled away, Y/n's hands clasped infront of her.

"Well Tup its very nice to meet you again."

"Its nice to meet you too Lady Y/n."

"Lady Y/n!"

She took a quick step back from her closeness with Tup, clearing her throat.

"Oh thank maker..." the gaurd spoke under his breathe, "the duchess wishes for you to greet your guest."

Y/n nodded softly, "Well. Let's go?"

Tup nodded, the two leaving side by side in silence. They two making there way down to the main set of doors which led to the throne room.

"Lady Y/n." Obi-wan spoke, "The Duchess ask I escort you in while introduced."

"Oh." Y/n spoke looking at Tup he gave her an akwards thumb up, she chuckled and smiled at him with a nod.

Y/n smiled Obi wan extending an arm, Y/n linking arms with the Jedi General. The doors opened as they walked forward.

"Introducing Lady Y/n! Daughter of Dutchess Satine! Next in line for the throne!"

Y/n and Obi-wan walked forward people clearing a straight shot to her mother. Her and Obi-wan walked forward, feeling the stares on her she kept silent. It soon because uncomfortable, feeling the gaze more than just simple admiration or awe. She tensed as they walked making her to the steps to Satines throne. She pulled away from Obi-wan, bowing her head to her mother as she walked up, a smaller throne simplistic like how Y/n liked it and took a simple seat, she watched Tup sneak into the room carefully standing next to a man who had a medical band on his arm with his suit, before everyone started to fill the room again.

Satine stood up, she was making a speech Y/n zoned out, it was a greeting, thanking everyone personally for coming to celebrate Y/n's transition into womenhood.

"That's why I am glad to speak, Y/n's hand is extended for potential marraige candidates!"

Y/n sat up shocked, and Satine thanked everyone once again and took a seat. Everyone going back to chatting.

"Excuse me!? Marraige?" Y/n argued.

"It is a formality you do not have to marry anyone."

"Im not taking anyone into consideration," Y/n defended, crossing her arms and leaning back in her seat.

"Lady Y/n-"

"No." Y/n spoke, she was beyond annoyed.

"Thank you for your time..." he spoke bowing his head and walking away heart broken.

Y/n rejected any man that came up to try and give there hand to her.

Tup watched from afar, Kix and Dogma by his side. Men contuined to go up to her and as more and more did she seemed more and more irratated. He quickly walked away from his brothers would watched him out of confusion.

Watching him walk up to the thrown he started walking up the steps.

"Y/n," Tup spoke, holding a hand out for her, "I'd like to spend time with you, perhaps a dance?"

"Hey! Buddy wait in line!" A man argued but Y/n looked at Tup thanks in her eyes.

The lighting on him seemed perfect, he back lit perfectly, his eyes holding a smile along with his lips. Y/n grabbed his hand lightly as Tup helped her up, the two walking down the stairs hand in hand.

"Thank you." Y/n spoke they now in the crowd of people.

"Seems you needed it," Tup answered as Y/n chuckled.

"To the libary?"

"Actually," Tup spoke quietly, "I'd...like to have a dance with you."

Y/n flushed, "t-that sounds good. Yeah."

It was almost on cue did everyone backed up circling people who wanted to dance, Y/n and Tup in the center of it.

"Um. Tup." Y/n spoke.

"Hm?"

"Do you know how to dance?"

"Oh. Uh." Tup spoke, "no actually, do. Do you?"

Y/n shook her head no. The two laughing together as the music started.

"Suppose we should act like we're doing and maybe we'll fall in?" Y/n laughed.

Tup smiled in return, "I suppose."

The music started as they watched other, a simple waltz. Y/n and Tup luckily able to copy others, hands which once were placed in hand on on him, soon became more intimate, fingers intertwining. Tup's hand moving from her hip to the small of her back, she leaning into his touch just a bit more.

"Not bad." Y/n spoke softly, "we're doing decent."

Tup chuckled softly in return, "I suppose us clones learn quick."

"Clone?" Y/n questioned, "you're a clone?"

Tup looked at her confused, "You. You don't know that?" He questioned confused.

"I." Y/n spoke, "I don't mean to sound, uh, Rude."

Tup frowned, maybe she was an avid clone hater?

"I um. Havent payed much attention, to your face, my apologies." Y/n spoke, a flush coming to her cheeks.

"Am I offensive?" Tup questioned.

"No. No. Not at all." Y/n spoke, "On the contrary actually. I. Find you most appealing, your. Voice and presence is quiet soothing. You're a good man."

It was Tup's turn to flush, spinning her around softly as everyone else did. Her dress picking up just the slightest at the ends. Pulling her back into his grasp, it was sudden for both of them, there chest pressed up against one another, faces close, Tup's hand now across the small of her back grabbing her other hip as he lowered her into a dip, Y/n's arm around his neck as he did.

The claps of everyone was muffled in there ears.

Tup's nose brushing against hers as he tilted his head softly, Y/n stopping him with a hand on hie jaw , and she was raised up again in a flash.

"I. Im sorry" Tup apologized, everyone still clapping as Y/n bowed to him red faced.

"I...must go." Y/n spoke quickly rushing away and into the crowd.

"Wait!" Tup called rushing after her, she rushing out the throne room.

"My lady-"

"Im quiet fine a game of tag is all." Y/n defended rushing off, the urge of wanting Tup so bad fueling her feet as she ran from him.

Tup rushed looking both ways, "Which way did she go?"

"Left sir-"

Tup rushed after her, his shoes clicking against the marble floors of the palace as he ran. Seeing her take a turn up ahead he called her name once more, following her quick steps, she rushed into her ungaurded room and closing the door behind her.

Making it to the doors he panted for a moment, soon calming his breath he knocked on the door.

"Please! Y/n I did not mean to upset you!" He begged, "I. I should have asked asked you! I should have never just jumped into it!"

Y/n quiet as she leaned against the door, her body pressed up against it to keep it closed, he seemed genuinely angered with himself, and worried for her.

"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." Tup spoke softly, "I...just..."

Y/n stayed silent listening.

"I. Seen you for the first time walking up with my brother to report to General Skywalker..." he informed, "I had no idea someone could look so beautiful until I seen you, then. Well then we started that chess game."

Y/n's cheeks grew red as she listened, her heart starting to drop its quickly put up walls.

"You just spoke and It was beautiful. I. I'm not good with words either. I." He sighed, "I didn't realize someone like me could have so much in common with you... half the time my brothers don't like any same things as me. And we're all copies of each other."

The knot in her stomach grew as she gulped, "I. Tup. Its not that I'm mad at you."

Tup was surprised to hear an answer, "I. I think you're quiet beatiful, I. I just...I've never..."

"Y/n you do not need to explain yourself to me." Tup told her.

"Just. Let me finish." Y/n spoke calmly, "I've, well. Tup. I. I. I've never kissed anyone."

Y/n stopped waiting for a laugh, or even a 'yeah right', but she got a sincere chuckle trying to break the ice, "neither have I."

It was a surpise to Tup when the door opened softly, Y/n's flushed face being seen due to the light of the hall.

"Are you okay?" Tup questioned Y/n nodding her gaze to the floor.

"We're you being..serious?" Y/n questioned softly.

Tup nodded, growing nervous himself.

"Would you..umm. like too?" Y/n questioned, "kiss me?"

"I..um." tup spoke his face full red, "yes.."

Y/n opened up the door a bit more so he could come in, taking the hint he walked in the room dark. His eyes not having to adjust as the French doors which were uncovered let in moonlight.

Y/n closed the door quietly, locking it behind her so they'd be uninterrupted. He turned his head watching her walk towards him.

Oh maker.

They stood infront of each other nervously, refusing to make eye contact. Y/n with a shaking hand reached out her hand, her fingers dancing along his shoulder as he looked down.

"Tup. I." Y/n spoke, her other arm following her first one on the other side of his head his hands slipping onto her hips.

Nerves in a bundle they tensed in one anothers arms, faces leaning in slowly, noses brushed up against one another. A few of Tup's fingers tapped and tilted her face to the side as he tilted his own face the other way.

"Tup...Im nervous." Y/n whispered against his lips, "what happens if...if i like it too much?"

"I'll do anything you ask me..." he mummbled her hot breathe hitting his lips.

It was silent for another momment, Y/n's eyes slolwy closing as Tup's followed. They leaning in the small space as there lips pressrd against each others. The bundle of nerves melting away and falling into ribbions that slowly started to knot.

The kiss was, cute, nothing more than pressing there lips against one another and then pulled away little space between there lips, a new found hunger filled the both of them, Tup pressing forward in a much more passionate kiss, y/n kissed back, lips dancing against one another. Y/n pushed into Tup. Breathe heavy through the armature kisses. Tup mindlessly picked Y/m up, her legs wrapping around his waist as they contuined to kiss. Walking over to her bed he placed her down carefully, climbing over her body.

Kiss only breaking for air, "Do. Do you want this?" Tup questioned, things had moved awfully fast and turned into a one night stand, love filled relationship neither could explain.

Y/n nodded, "Only from you"

"Are you sure? I don't want you unsatisfied." Tup spoke honestly.

"If its you I'll never be unsatisfied." Y/n told him, the two kissing again, Tup holding his like a peice of glass under him.

"I love you." Tup whispered against her lips.

"I love you too Tup." She spoke back. Tup kissing her once more.

[pterodactylterrace]

Guys Like You ~ENDING~

Title: Guys Like You

Chapter: 20

Chapter Summary: My ill fated attempt to tie everything up nice and pretty and end on a positive note. In my head, this went a different way, but I decided to go the happy route for everyone

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Mentions of blood and childbirth 

“I feel like a blimp.” Faye groaned, giving up on trying to fasten her sandals herself and plopping down on the bed instead.

“I think you’re gorgeous.” Henry soothed, straightening out his tie in the mirror and crouching down to help her with her shoes.

“I can’t see my feet.”

“They’re still here.” Henry chuckled, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to her swollen belly.

“What about my vagina?” Faye grouched, smoothing a hand along her bump.

“I plan on thoroughly investigating that later.” Henry purred, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“Why not now?”

“Because we’ll be late if we do. Now come along, darling. We both know everyone is dying to see the bump.” Henry encouraged, standing and gently helping her to her feet. They had posted earlier that week to his Instagram about their newest addition. Just a picture of a Superman onesie, captioned “Baby Boy Cavill, coming early next spring.” To say it had blown up would be an understatement. This was going to be their first public outing since they had announced the pregnancy. Faye had gone back and forth several times on whether or not she had wanted to actually accompany him, ultimately deciding to spend the evening out with her fiancé.

“Carry me?” Faye whined, giving him a pouty look.

“I’ll carry you around all you like after the premiere. If we show up in wrinkled clothing, people may get the wrong idea.”

“Henry, I’m pretty sure they know we’ve been having sex.” Faye pointed out, gesturing vaguely toward her belly. “Plus, you’ve done a wonderful job of making sure I’m satisfied at all times.”

“The pleasure is all mine.” Henry chuckled, placing a hand on her lower back to urge her to the door and quickly readjusting himself in his suddenly too tight trousers. This woman was going to be the death of him. All she had to do was allude to sex, and all the blood would rush straight to his groin. He was fairly certain she had trained his dick to get hard with just a look, not that he was complaining. He’d heard several men grumbling about how their partners didn’t want anything when they were expecting. He seemed to get lucky with the opposite. She’d been much friskier during her first trimester, but after she hit the halfway point, she was damn near insatiable.

“Now make sure you behave. Hands to yourself.” Henry murmured in her ear, the couple stopping just long enough to remind the babysitter that Briar had to be in bed by eight and to tell the little girl goodbye.

“You were joking about the hands to myself thing, right?” Faye questioned almost as soon as the driver had rolled up the partition.

“It’s been less than two hours.” Henry half laughed, tangling his fingers with her wandering digits.

“So? Are you really going to turn down getting busy?”

“Darling, we’ll make a mess right before we end up in front of a ton of cameras.” Henry pointed out, kissing the back of her hand lovingly. “Just try to contain yourself for a few more hours, then I’ll be yours all night.”

“All night?”

“All night.” Henry confirmed, kissing her temple adoringly and gently placing a hand on her swollen stomach. “You look beautiful.” Henry whispered, shamelessly staring at her cleavage.

“Don’t be a tease.” Faye pouted.

“My apologies, darling.” Henry chuckled, resting his cheek against her head.

~*~

“I’m not leaving this house again until this baby is born.” Faye declared dramatically as she flopped down on the couch.

“Does that mean you’ve decided on a home birth?” Henry asked, glancing up from the puzzle Briar was trying to put together.

“Yes.” Faye growled, glaring down at her extended belly. “Tell me, Mr. Cavill. Is there a particular reason you decided to put a gigantic baby in me? Hmm? Is this some sort of payback for something?”

“Darling, the doctor said he’s only slightly larger than average.”

“Baby brother is BIG!” Briar giggled.

“Yes, he is.” Faye agreed, pushing herself up from her slouched position. “He also likes to kick Mommy in the ribs.”

“I’m sorry, darling.” Henry cooed, pushing himself up from the floor to sit next to her on the couch.

“You should totally carry the next kid.” Faye grumbled, leaning against him.

“I would if I could, darling.” Henry assured, wrapping his arm around her and kissing the top of her head.

“My feet are swollen, my belly is huge, I’m pretty sure I just peed a little and all I can think about is oranges.” Faye grumpily listed off, wiggling her way to the edge of the couch and rocking herself to her feet.

“Oh…” Henry mumbled, his eyebrows pulling together as he watched the wet darkness rapidly spread across the back of her sweats and down her legs.

“Oh shit.” Faye gasped, staring in horror at the wetness soaking into her pants. “Oh fuck… Henry!” She yelled, trying to peer over her stomach to see her legs.

“Yes?” Henry asked unsurely as he stood himself up, intent on cleaning the mess before it soaked in anymore.

“I don’t think that was pee.”

“What?”

“That. Wasn’t. Piss.” Faye ground out, snapping her head around to look at him.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to get me to understand, darling.” Henry admitted, his brows pulling together as he studied her face. “Wait… you don’t mean?” Henry whispered, realization washing over his face. “But he’s not due for another couple of weeks!”

“Well, it looks like he was just as tired of waiting as I was!” Faye grumbled.

“Mommy, you had an accident.” Briar pointed out as she put the last piece in her puzzle, hopping to her feet and scampering off down the hall, assuring her mother she would find her something else to wear as she ran off.

“Ok… I’m not going to panic.” Henry promised, more to himself rather than to his fiancé. “I’m going to call the doula and the nanny. Do you need me to help you to the bathroom?”

“I’m not contracting, I can walk.” Faye pointed out.

“Just in case it starts, then.” Henry suggested, resting one hand on her lower back and taking her hand with the other, keeping pace beside his fiancé as she did an odd combination of a shuffle and a waddle to the bathroom.

“FUCK!” Henry shouted as soon as the door was closed, his heavy footsteps falling down the hallway as he ran back to the living room, frantically trying to locate his phone. “KAL!” Henry called, his wild eyes darting around the room. “Kal where’s my phone?!”

“KITCHEN!” Faye yelled from the bathroom, rolling her eyes to herself. “So much for not panicking.”

“Thank you, Kal!” Henry called back, his rapid steps sounding again as he crossed the house, snatching his phone from where it was peacefully charging on the counter, hitting the contact number for the doula and impatiently listening to it ring.

“He does know the dog can’t talk; I promise.” Faye sighed, shoving her wet clothes down and sitting on the toilet to kick herself free. “Papa’s just a little excited right now. He’s going crazy waiting to meet you.” She assured her swollen stomach.

“Faye?” Henry called softly from the other side of the door, slowly cracking it open and giving her an apologetic smile. “She’s asking questions I don’t know the answer to.”

“What does she want to know?” Faye asked, watching as he slowly slid his giant frame into the bathroom with her.

~*~

“You’re doing so good, darling.” Henry whispered, gently running his hands up and down his fiancé’s back. “Another one’s coming up, deep breath.” He instructed, his eyes flicking to his watch back to Faye. He gripped her hips firmly and dug his thumbs in right where she’d shown him so many contractions ago, rubbing in slow small circles to ease the pain in her back.

“I wanna get in the tub.” Faye groaned as the tightness in her belly began to ease.

“Alright, darling. I’m going to need you to stand up with me.” Strong arms wrapped around her and slowly helped to her feet; an adoring kiss being planted to the crown of her head. “Now I need you to walk with me, can you do that?”

“Yeah. It’s not bad between the contractions.”

“I’ll be right here if you need me.” Henry assured, taking her small delicate hand into his calloused paw, slowly leading her to the bathroom. He let her rest against the sink as he fiddled with the taps, plugging the drain once the water had warmed.

“Fuck… Hen…” Faye hissed, her jaw clenching along with her distended abdomen.

“I’m right here, I’m right here.” Henry quickly took her back in his arms, letting her lean against him as he tried to find the spot on her back from the new angle.

“For fucks’ sake, how long has it been?” Faye groaned, helping Henry pull her shirt off and toss it onto the growing pile of laundry she was creating during her labor.

“Just over three hours.” Henry informed, biting his lip at his fiancé’s hopeless groan.

“That’s it?!”

“You’re doing so good.” Henry repeated, expertly unclasping her bra with one hand and casting it aside to help her step into the warm waiting water. He settled in next to the tub, holding his phone up where she could see it and pulling up one of her favorite shows, hoping to distract her.

~*~

“I wanna push.” Faye gasped, her knuckles going white as she squeezed the side of the tub, her entire body tense with a contraction.

“That’s great, that’s your body telling you you’re ready to have your baby.” The midwife assured, gently wiping her face with a wash rag. “You’re in charge here, how do you want to do this? Do you want to stay in the tub, or do you want to move somewhere else?”

“I’m staying.” Faye groaned, maneuvering herself to her knees with Henry’s help.

“You’re so close, darling.” Henry whispered, kissing her forehead adoringly, wincing slightly when her next contraction came, and her nails dug into his arm. “You’re doing so good.”

“Henry, I need you.” Faye hissed, desperate hands attempting to drag him into the tub with her. “Come here, please.” She pleaded, throwing her arms around his shoulders when he carefully lowered himself into the tub with her.

“I’m right here, darling. I’m right here.” Henry assured, rubbing her back softly, letting her lean into him as much as she wished. He paid no attention to the blood tinging the water or her nails digging into his shoulders. Instinct took over when Faye said she could feel the head coming. He reached between himself and his fiancé, gently cradling his son as he was pushed into the world.

“He’s here. He’s here.” Henry gasped after a final push, bringing the baby to his chest, quickly wrapping an arm around Faye’s shoulders to ease her back against the side of the tub.

“He’s here.” Faye breathed, a tired smile spreading across her face as Henry gently laid their son on her chest, peppering her forehead with adoring kisses and pushing her wet hair from her face.

“You did it, Faye.” Henry whispered, smiling down at the baby in her arms, his heart swelling with pride. She did that. His fiancé just brought a new life into the world. In that moment, he was simply blown away at just how strong she could be. It took almost all the mental focus he had remaining not to propose to her again, still crouching in the blood and goo filled water with her.

Reluctantly, Henry removed himself from the tub, taking a second to appreciate Faye’s demand of the oversized bathtub when they had renovated the bathroom. He was quick to rinse himself off in the other shower, throwing on dry sweats and returning to the bathroom where Faye was still gushing over their newest addition. The baby was handed to him while the midwife attended to his fiancé, draining the tub and gently rinsing away the sweat and mess clinging to her skin with a cool stream.

“He’s so tiny.” Henry whispered in awe, staring down at his minutes-old son.

“The hell he is!” Faye groaned, shooting him a look fit to kill.

“I think he agrees with you.” Henry grunted, his son’s chubby fist finding his chest hair and gripping it tightly, squirming his newly freed limbs the best he could in his tight swaddle.

“He’s only small compared to you.” The midwife compromised, Henry helping Faye step out of the tub with one arm, the other tightly cradling their son to his chest, hovering close as the midwife helped her to redress. “You have another child already, right? So, you know the bleeding is going to continue for a few weeks. Make sure you rest as much as you can. Now isn’t the time to be a hero. You’ve just gone through a lot; you need time to heal.”

“Can I have our son back now?” Faye asked, raising an amused brow at her already doting fiancé, who reluctantly handed the infant back to his mother.

“Rest, darling.” Henry reminded her, securing one arm around her rapidly deflated waist and holding her tight to his side, walking her back to their waiting bed, their son’s bassinet already pulled up close to her side.

“I wanna hold him a little more.” Faye pouted when Henry took the baby back, holding her hand to help her into bed the best he could.

“Lay down first. You’re getting shaky.”

“Then can I hold him?”

“I suppose, since you did just birth him an all.” Henry playfully sighed, handing off their son again and seating himself on the edge of the bed, content to just watch mother and child for the time being.

~*~

“Papa?” Briar yawned, shuffling into their room with her stuffed bunny in tow.

“Yes, princess?” Henry mumbled, already half asleep after changing his son and passing him back to his mother for a midnight feeding.

“He too noisy. Can you tell baby brother to be quiet? I can’t sleep.”

“You heard her, Liam. No more screaming in the middle of the night. You need to use your inside crying after 9pm.” Henry informed his young son, the only reply being his son’s usual cooing grunt as he continued to nurse.

“Sorry, Briar. He’s still little, he needs a lot of attention right now.”

“I like attention too.” Briar pouted, stubbornly climbing into their bed and perching herself on Henry’s stomach as she watched her mother.

“I know, baby. I’m sorry.” Faye sighed, fighting the tears welling in her eyes.

“How about Mummy takes you to the park for a little bit tomorrow?” Henry suggested

“Liam is too little to be bringing out to a playground, Hen.” Faye pointed out, relatching the child when he stopped to stare at her nursing bra in confusion.

“So feed him right before you go, and again when you get home. You need a break from baby duty, babe.” Henry suggested, shifting Briar off his stomach to sit next to him instead.

“I wanna go, Mommy!” Briar whined, looking up at her mother hopefully.

“What if he gets hungry while I’m gone?”

“I know damn well you have extra in the fridge. It’s a bit of a surprise when you add some of that into your coffee in the morning by mistake, by the way.”

“So that’s why I was missing some.”

“I thought it was that ‘fancy’ cream you get from the farmer’s market. I was wrong.”

“It was in the same bottle, though.”

“You little…” Henry grumbled, pushing himself up on his elbows to glare at her properly. “Why would you refill a container with milk that looks startlingly similar to what was in it in the first place? You set me up for failure!”

“Mommy, I sleep with you tonight?” Briar asked hopefully, blissfully ignorant to her parent’s playful discussion.

“No, baby. You’re not going to get any sleep in here with us. Baby brother wakes up too much at night.” Faye explained, glancing hopefully at Henry. Understanding what she was trying to tell him, Henry snatched the little girl up and rolled out of bed, smiling at her excited squealing as he carried her down the hall under his arm surfboard style.

“Do you want me to turn on your Baby Shark music?” Henry asked once she had been replaced in bed, Kal lazily licking at her ear when she rejoined him. He didn’t bother even waiting for an answer before flipping through her tablet, pulling up the hour long loop they usually played for her at bedtime.

“Kal wants ice cream.” Briar informed him, batting her lashes up at her father figure hopefully.

“Kal knows he can’t have ice cream. It’s too hard on his stomach.” Henry yawned, looking suspiciously at the canine.

“No, he wants it for me, silly.” Briar giggled.

“You know the rules, princess.” Henry sighed, brushing her hair from her face softly. “Now get some rest. We all love you.”

~*~

“Did we wait long enough? Do I still look like a slob?” Faye fretted, turning this way and that, her eyes fixed on her lower stomach, trying to see if it still protruded further than she wanted.

“Faye, relax. You look amazing.” Her sister assured, turning her away from the mirror. Briar was happily running in circles with her little flower basket, all too excited to be involved in the affair. Her twin sister was in a beautiful, blue floor length bridesmaid dress, her younger sister in a matching shorter dress and her brother struggling with the matching tie.

“Are you ready to marry?” Her mother asked her giddily, squeezing her daughter’s hand softly.

“I am. I really hope he is too.” Faye replied, stealing a glance at the closed door.

“Oh please, he was ready to marry you the first time he saw you.” Her brother scoffed, finally taming his tie into something passable. “You’ve been killing the poor guy making him wait this long.”

“I didn’t want to get married while I was pregnant.”

“I really don’t think he would have cared.” Her youngest sister pointed out. “He seems pretty convinced the sun shines out of your ass.”

“Hear that, Delilah?” Her brother jumped in, setting his teasing eyes on his sister. “Get you a man that looks at you the way Henry looks at her.”

“It’s the same way you look at pizza.” Their sister added.

“I’ll find someone when I want to.” Delilah grumbled, shooting her younger siblings a glare out of the corner of her eye.

It took the effort of three people to hold Briar back once the music started, all desperately explaining that she was going to be almost last to go. Once the time came, she threw all her flower petals on the ground at the start of the runner and then sprinted down to the other end while laughing wildly. It was deemed that was close enough and it was finally Faye’s turn to walk the aisle.

Her father’s arm was a steady, comforting constant, something she desperately needed in that moment. She could swear she saw a small tear forming in the corner of her husband-to-be’s eye, but mostly his face was one of proud surprise.

Niki was elected to hold the ‘ring bearer’ the baby happily drooling all over the ring box he was allegedly in charge of. The photographer went nuts with pictures when Henry gently pried the box from his son’s chubby fist, removing the ring from inside and handing him the box back to chew on.

The couple stared into each other’s eyes, everything else melting away in that moment as they both closed a chapter in their lives, only to begin a brand new one they hoped would be filled with adventure with two simple words.

“I do.”

Tags:  @weallhaveadestiny @lunedelorient @summersong69 @mis-lil-red @lharrietg @amberangel112 @mansaaay @packerfan43

[ur-riddikulus]

You’re Worth It (Bucky Barnes)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You are the resident therapist for the Avengers and Steve asks you for a favor. He wants you to have a therapy session with Bucky. Then you find out that Bucky wasn’t exactly aware of this plan.

Warnings: some cursing, Bucky’s angsty past, a couple small sexual innuendo. Also like a ton of angst but I promise that it does get better lol.

A/N: This is my first fanfic on here. I posted some Harry Potter ones before this, but I reread them and thought I could do better. So, here we are! Thank you for reading and if you want this to turn into more parts, I can totally do that. <3

You had been in your office preparing for your next patient when Steve walked in.

“Hey, Dr. Y/L/N, can I ask you for a favor?” He asked, putting his hands in a praying motion.

“Yeah, absolutely! I do have a patient soon, though.” You replied. You were glad to help, Steve is a great patient and has been improving impressively. So well, in fact, you didn’t know if he would even need to see you much longer.

“Do you know Bucky Barnes? He’s an old pal of mine. He has been against going to therapy for a long time, but you’ve helped me so much and Bucky needs some help too I think. Plus, he saw you around the tower and thought you were cute.” Steve says.

You blushed at that last part, silently wishing you didn’t. You had a rule against dating any patient or anyone in the tower, since it would just be awkward when you inevitably break up. Every relationship you’ve ever been in hasn’t lasted long, considering you’ve never been able to find someone you truly liked.

“Yeah, of course I know Bucky. You don’t shut up about him during your therapy sessions and I’ve seen him sulking around the tower myself. I would love to help him, but like I said, I have another patient soon. I will only have therapy with him if it’s his choice though. And I think he’s absolutely gorgeous but I have a rule against dating anyone who lives or works in the Tower.” You explained.

You looked at the time, Tony Stark, your next patient, would be here any minute. You were the sole therapist for Avengers Tower. There maybe should have been another one, but Tony had one session with you and said that you were the best he’s ever had and no one would ever dare be a therapist and step into his tower again. He even gave you the title of ‘Chief of Mental Health’ despite being literally the only person in that department.

Steve must have noticed you checking your watch, because he said ,”Oh, and I bribed Tony to change his appointment and give it to Bucky, so you kind of have no choice.” 

You looked up, “What? Who knew that Mr. Captain America himself was a cunning little bitch.” You joked, shaking your head. You and Steve, hell, you and everyone in the tower had that kind of relationship. And, he knew you swore like a sailor, so he even ignored it sometimes.

At that moment, Bucky walked in. He looked so handsome with his shoulder-length hair and baby blue eyes. He even looked a little nervous. Well, that’s not surprising, you thought. Everyone, even you, was a tad nervous on the first session.

Steve put up one finger and said, “Let me talk to Buck alone for one moment.” You nodded and he walked Bucky out to the hallway and shut your door. You heard whispers being exchanged and was a little confused but whatever, you thought. You were sure he’s just giving Bucky encouragement. 

You went over and sat down on your grey seat and picked up your chamomile tea. That was probably your favorite part of being a therapist, getting to sit down in comfy chairs all day with your tea. Besides helping people of course.

The door opened once again, with Bucky and Steve reappearing. “Thanks for doing this again, Dr. Y/L/N! Bucky will love you.” Steve said, patting Bucky on the back. You smiled and he exited, leaving only a nervous-looking Bucky standing there.

“Why don’t you come over and sit on the comfortable couch across from me, Bucky?” You motion, pointing over to the couch across from your current chair. He nods and goes to the couch. Well, at least he looks a bit more comfortable, you think to yourself.

“So, what do you want to talk about? Anything is on the table.” You say. You’ve found that not going straight to the tough topics help patients build their trust with you more.

“Well, doll, how about you tell me about yourself first.” He says, getting a bit more confident now. Doll? That’s an odd name to call your therapist. But whatever, you’re sure they used it a lot in the old days. Letting it slide, you try to answer his question.

“Well, I was born and raised here in New York City. I got my PhD. in psychology from NYU and I have an apartment in Brooklyn. I got this job after only one session with Tony Stark and now I am the therapist for the Avengers.” Sure, it was a lot of work, but you absolutely loved your job. Helping the heroes who risk their life to save yours and everyone else’s was the least you could do, you thought.

Bucky nodded and said, “I’m from Brooklyn. Looks much different now than it did when I lived there though. A PhD.? Damn doll, you must be super smart.”

You smiled at his compliment. “Thank you. It wasn’t easy, but it was definitely worth all the late nights studying.”

“So, anything else you want to know about me before we get started?” You asked, getting your notebook to prepare to write notes about Bucky and how to best help him. 

“Get started? Damn, doll. I was thinking we could grab a coffee before we ‘get started.’ But it’s good with me, I guess the girls roll a little different in this time than the 40′s.” Bucky says, chuckling to himself.

You were in the middle of getting to the correct page in the notebook but paused when you heard what he said. What did he think you meant when you said ‘get started’? It sounded very different from your meaning. And getting coffee? It almost sounded like he thought this was a date? You shook your head at that thought. No way could he possibly be that confused. And Steve said he thought you were cute, but you seriously doubted that the Bucky Barnes would even consider going on a date with you. So no, it definitely couldn’t be that. But whatever he thought this was, there was obviously a miscommunication that you had to clear up.

“Uh, Bucky? I think you must be confused. Steve told me that he convinced you to have a therapy session with me this afternoon. What did you think this was?” You ask, a little scared of the answer. 

At hearing this, Bucky seemed very confused. “What do you mean, Steve told me that we were meeting here before going out on our date?”

Now it’s your turn to be confused. What does he mean by ‘our date’? 

“Uh, Steve never said to me that we were going on a date. He told me that he convinced you to have a therapy session with me...” You said, shaking your head in confusion. This made no sense, what was going on?

Apparently that was the conclusion Bucky just got to as well,  because he looked up, a little embarrassed and said, “I’m so sorry. Steve told me that you wanted to go on a date with me and that we were going to meet in your office before going out. I never would have agreed to this if I knew what he was really doing. I’m just going to leave, I’m so sorry for wasting your time.” Bucky raced his hand through his long hair and stood up, walking to the door.

At first, you were a little stunned. The Steve you knew, the world knew, would never pull a trick on anyone, especially his best friend. You knew him enough through your sessions to know that he would only do this if he absolutely had to. Which means he must be desperate for his friend to get the mental help he needed. Also, Bucky was just so damn cute and you have had the biggest crush on him ever since you went to the Captain America exhibit in the local museum for a school trip. You always saw him in the pictures with Steve, his heart-stopping smile still doing wonders on you despite the worn black and white photo.

So, you jumped up right when his hand touched the door handle to leave and probably never see you again. “W-Wait!” You said, hating your stutter but just cringed and kept going when you saw him turn around curiously. “While you’re here you might as well just talk to me. If you hate it, you never have to see me again and can just ignore me in the halls. But, if this session does help you, maybe we can schedule a bit more and see where it goes. I really think I can help you, Bucky.” After you finish your awkward speech, you just smiled and waited for his definite and irreversible no. Well, at least you got the chance to help him, you thought. 

He just sighed and shrugged saying, “Well, I’m already here I guess. But are you sure this could end at any time and that you even want to help me after my dumb friend tricked me into embarrassing myself?” 

You smiled and that last part and smiled, just grateful for the opportunity to help someone so burdened and has done so much for the world. 

Bucky walked back over the his chair and said, “So, Doc, how do we start this?”

You grabbed your notebook again and turned to the right page again. “This is your session, it can start with however you want. But it might help to start from the beginning. How did you feel when you got drafted into a World War when you were only 18?”

He looked deep in thought and said, “Wow, no one ever asked me that.” He sighed before adding, “Of course it was my duty to fight and all that, but I was angry at the world for forcing kids who just barely turned adults to fight their wars for them. I knew it was going to be an adventure, but honestly I was scared shitless, doll.”

You nod, your empathy for him skyrocketing even though you guys just started.

And that’s how your bi-weekly sessions with Bucky would usually go. You guys talked about a whole manner of things, like his past in the 1940′s, his brainwashing with HYDRA, Steve saving him, and his nightmares from everything included. You two were closer than you normally let yourself get to patients. You didn’t know if it was because of everything he had gone through, or maybe even that you finally got to talk and help the Avenger who needed you most, but you honestly didn’t care. Your sessions with him really seemed to help him and now he hasn’t had a nightmare in over 2 months. Bucky seemed a lot happier and waved and talked to you in the halls. Steve even said that he hasn’t seen Bucky like this since the 40′s. You thought that with all things considered, he had a ton of improvement. You two had only been meeting for about 6 months and his progress was truly great;

You tried to forget that in your first meeting he thought you were going on a date and even apparently called you pretty. You knew that nothing romantic should ever come out of your patient and therapist relationship since it was obviously wrong. Every therapist knew that under no circumstances should you date your patient. It would always hurt the patient’s mental health even more and that was the opposite of your job. You suppose it could technically happen if you stopped being his personal therapist but it wouldn’t be worth it. All of his hard work would have been for nothing. 

But you couldn’t help but think what if? What if it ended up working out? What if he got another therapist and you could date him? What if he was the one? But no, you were getting ahead of yourself, you thought. Bucky was great and handsome and so, so perfect. He was honestly everything you wanted in a partner. And still, you couldn’t take the leap. If it didn’t work out and you were possibly the reason his mental health got worse you could never forgive yourself. So every appointment with him you just smiled and tried to ignore that pressing need, even though you were beating yourself up for either being a coward or for being so selfish that you wanted to take that chance.

One day you were in the middle of researching new ways to help a client’s recent mental health issue and trying to (and failing) ignore a certain issue when Bucky walked in with a bouquet of your favorite flowers and a nervous look on his face. You stood up, very confused but nonetheless making yourself known. 

“Uh, Y/N? Could I maybe talk to you for a minute?” He asked. You’ve never seen him dressed so well. Normally he just wore either workout clothes or sweatpants. You two even often joked together that he owned no normal clothes. 

“Yeah of course. I’m sorry I didn’t know we had a session today.” You said, cursing yourself for making such a mistake. Usually you were pretty good with schedules, even though working with the entire compound was a bit much to remember. 

“Oh, we don’t. I just wanted to ask you a question.” Bucky said, biting his lip. A nervous tick that you soon discovered in one of your early sessions together.

“Sure, ask away.” You replied. You were getting a little worried. Surely he didn’t want to end your appointments together, right? Did you do something wrong?

“First of all, these are for you.” He said nervously as he handed you the flowers. You smiled, surprised that he remembered you telling him your that your favorite was y/f/f while complaining that the local florist didn’t have them during one of your bi-weekly meetings. “Thank you, these are absolutely beautiful. I love them.” You smiled and walked over to a window ledge with a vase on it and put them in, admiring how they looked in the sunlight.

When you were finished admiring them you walked back over to Bucky. “Thank you again, they really are beautiful. I don’t even remember the last time someone was so nice and got flowers for me.” You said and hugged him. You knew he wasn’t that great with personal touch but surprised you when he hugged you back pretty quickly. For a moment you just focused on being in his arms but then soon thought of how inappropriate it would look to an outsider and reluctantly pulled away. 

“So, what did you want to ask? Is everything okay?” You ask, quickly remembering that something could be wrong with him.

“Yeah, of course everything is fine. You truly are a great therapist, Y/N. You’ve got a gift.” Bucky said. You blushed at his words and hated that your color would give away your inappropriate feelings possibly. His words did calm you down though. But if it wasn’t about therapy, then what else could it be about?

Feeling your blush go down finally, you nodded and urged him to go on, now too curious to wait it felt like.

He sighed and nervously ran his hand through his hair. “You have to promise me that if this goes wrong, our relationship won’t be ruined. It’s too important for me to ruin by being an idiot.” You immediately promised. Normally you would be cautious about such a thing but you have never trusted anyone this quickly and this much with Bucky.

After he saw your quick agreement, he went on. “So, these past couple weeks, well since we’ve started meeting actually, I was interested in you. I was never going to act on it in a million years but you’ve helped me so much and I think we could really be great together. And Steve might have noticed me staring at you and telling me I should do something about it.” He chuckled. “So, want to go on a real date? I would go the whole 9 yards, nice restaurant and everything. But I don’t want to pressure you into anything you don’t want to do and know that our relationship isn’t necessarily the easiest to become romantic. I just think you're worth it, doll. You're worth all of it.” He stopped and bit his lip again, waiting for your response.

Your heart soared when you heard his speech. No one had every made you feel this way. You were about to say yes, so close in fact, but then you remembered the real truth. You are his therapist, his doctor, his advocate. That was special and meant something to you. You knew he wanted this but it was your responsibility to make the hard choice, to do what you honestly hated to do but thought was right.

“No, Buck. I’m sorry but I can’t. I just think it could ruin all your hard work and that’s the last thing that I want to do. It just shouldn’t be risked.” You said. Telling him that felt like vomit was coming up and you felt even worse when you saw him look dejected and lose his smile so quickly because of you.

You moved your arm to touch his and try to support him the best you could within your boundaries but he saw you trying to do it and moved before you could touch him. And that really hurt. 

You opened your mouth to try and say that you wanted to say yes, that it wasn’t him and just your job but he put up his hand to stop you and said,”No, I shouldn't have asked, I’m sorry.” before walking out.

After the door shut you just closed your mouth in surprise of how this could all go so wrong before falling on the ground and just sobbing. You were hyperventilating soon and snot was going everywhere but you just didn’t care. You were the therapist, the one who knew all the mental health tips and tricks but you were too broken to think logically and it felt good to just let yourself cry.

This stayed the same for two straight weeks. Bucky rescheduled every meeting and put himself into more missions, especially the more dangerous ones. You would cry yourself to sleep nearly every night and by the morning, your eyes were really puffy and swollen from the night before. Everyone in the tower knew something was going wrong and you could feel their stares of sympathy and worry. You felt terrible but what felt even worse was that you weren’t even speaking with Bucky anymore. And as bad as you felt, you couldn’t help but be even more worried for him. You were prepared to just wallow in your own self-pity and cry for the nth time when Steve knocked on the door and walked in when you were in your office, just drinking chamomile tea and looking at the flowers Bucky got you.

“Hey Doc, how’s it going?” He asked, sitting down and looking worried. You just looked up at him and decided to finally cut the shit and get right to what you were worried about. “Steve, how’s Bucky? And tell me the truth, I’ll find out eventually.” Steve sighed and said, “Honestly he’s not doing great. He looks like crap and is throws himself into missions. Bucky also keeps taking stupid risks that could leave him wounded or even worse. We’ve all spoken with him and he just ignores it. I think the only thing that would really fix him is talking with you. he’s never been like this before, I just don’t know what to do.”

You knew that he would probably tell you the last part, that he feels out of control. Control issues was what you most talked about with Steve during your sessions. Not that you could blame him, you would definitely have them too after everything he has gone through. But that could be discussed in your future sessions with him. Right now, you just wished everything was back to normal.

You nodded sadly, even more worried for him now. But Steve talking to you changed something. You needed to talk to Bucky. And right now. Your fear of rejection was high and you knew there was a fairly high chance that he was too hurt to trust you and that he would probably say no but you didn’t care. Even if he rejected you, you didn’t care. As long as he would be better and your relationship went back to normal, you could live with it. Even if it would take a long time to get better after this, he would be worth it.

So you just looked up, your mind set on what you had to do. “Where is he? I need to find him right now.”

Steve looked up surprised and said, “Uh, in his room I think. He just signed up for another hard mission and we asked him not to but he insisted. He’s probably getting ready since he will have to leave soon.”

After hearing this, you jumped up frantically while yelling “Thank you so much Steve!” as you ran out, not even caring to stop the door from slamming. 

Now, even though you worked in a tower full of superheroes, you were only the therapist and still haven’t ran in a while. So you ran and ignored all the stares of the workers and Avengers. When you finally got there, you were out of breath and breathing hard. But still, you worked through your mini heart attack and knock on the door, still frantic.

You heard some rustling behind the door and a few mumbled curse words when he began saying loudly, “Steve, I’m fine. I’m going on that mission whether you think I should or no-” Bucky opened the door and once he saw you, a probably sweaty, red, and gross you, finished with a confused “-not?”

You put up one finger to signal for him to give you a moment to catch your breath. After that, you joked, “Guess I need to workout more.”

“No, I think you look great. Uh, n-not that my opinion matters or anything. If you think you need to work out then that’s what you should do.” He said, nervously stuttering but nodding at his final sentence like by catching it he saved himself from saying something wrong.

He cleared his throat before continuing. “So, how can I help you? I do have to leave on a mission soon though.”

It broke your heart how formally he was speaking, almost like you were complete strangers.

Maybe you should go, you thought. But no, you had to. Bucky was worth the embarrassment you could possibly face, whether you two were going to date or not. Forcing yourself to remember that, you steeled yourself and said, “I’m sorry Bucky, about everything I said. That date sounded amazing, it really did. I wanted to go and I still do. I was just worried about how inappropriate it would be for a therapist to date their patient. I didn’t want your mental health to backtrack and I honestly thought that I was doing the right thing. But I miss you, Buck. I miss you terribly. And you're worth all of the risks to me, you outweigh them all. So please don’t go on that mission, let someone else take the dumb risks. From what I’ve heard you have taken enough for a while. Please, just stay with me and we can talk?” You looked up at him pleadingly and saw him pull out his phone before shutting the door in your face.

That shut door hurt you, but you were prepared for it and sighed. It was too good to be true, you guessed. The fairytale ending, the white picket fence, the handsome husband. You turned around, prepared to walk away with the  thought of going back to your apartment and drowning your sorrows in chamomile tea and tissues when you heard the door open behind you and felt a hand grab yours to turn you around.

And there was Bucky, smiling like an absolute idiot. And at first you thought that he was making fun of you, but even then you still thought he looked handsome with that smile. “Sam’s in. He’ll take the mission for me.” He said.

“What?” was all you could muster. You had no idea what he was talking about it sounded almost like... That’s when you heard Sam on speaker phone, “Yep, that’s right sweetheart. I’m gonna do the dumb mission. Kiss Bucky real good for me, sucks I can’t be there to do it myself.” Then you heard Sam make a bunch of kissy noises and that’s when Bucky said, “Enough of him.” And ended the call. Then he grabbed your hand once more and shut the door behind you. He backed you against his door with him so close to you that your chest was touching his. 

You were still in shock of your luck when Bucky leaned in and kissed you. You were a little shocked but soon kissed him back, and hard. It was like you were underwater and he was the oxygen. The kiss soon turned rougher and you did not mind at all.

A couple hours later you were both laying on the bed, snuggling and watching a dumb movie that both of you weren’t even paying attention to. You were both just too wrapped up in each other’s presence. “Hey, I think you got some of that exercise you mentioned needing. Maybe we could even do some more if you want.” Bucky said, looking down at you and laughing. 

You hit him lightly but couldn’t help from laughing hard as well. Only hours ago you thought that you wouldn’t get anything with Bucky. No happy ending, white picket fence, and with Bucky, the whole package. But no, you got much more than that. So much more.

[qianinterprises]

Among the Horses {Part One}

Pairing: farm boy!Jaehyun x female!Reader

Other Characters: OC's, Haechan (sorta, kinda, not really), Renjun (sorta, kinda, not really)

Genre: fluff, angst, country au, farmboys and lady's au, falling in love, slow burn, friends to lovers

Warnings: verbally abusive aunt, yelling, degrading (not the fun kind)

Word Count: 3.8k

Overall Synopsis: Being sent to live with your aunt isn't exactly something wonderful, especially because she's verbally abusive and downright determined to turn you into a "proper lady" who a wealthy man will want to marry. However, perhaps living there won't be so bad. After all, you've got a handsome farm boy teaching you to ride horses.

Part One Synopsis: Arriving at your aunts is very challenging and trying. After being put through the ringer with your attire, you finally get a chance to explore the green world, and spend more time with the farm boy who'd picked you up from the airport.

Author's Notes: So I started this a while ago and didn't really do anything with it, but I love it and I really wanna write more so yeah... Also, I've posted this on a03 as well.

Tagging: @treasuretaeil @hachanbaecon @hwangful

A white, dirty pick-up truck pulled off the main road and onto a long, winding dirt road, leading them closer to a grand house that you had only been to a few times in your life. The place you’d be living for the next year or two.

The truck bumped along the loose gravel, crashing over potholes, sending you bouncing on the very worn cloth of the cab, your eyes glancing worriedly to the male beside you, one of his hands planted firmly on the hard steering wheel, the other loosely placed on the stick shifter in the center of the bench.

“Are you sure the tires won’t… fall off?” your voice was thick and laiden with worry.

He glanced over at you, warm brown eyes gazing intently into yours, the opticals flecked with curiosity and amusement. Embarrassment crept under your skin.

“You haven’t been out here in awhile? Have you miss?” he asked, tone filled with friendly amusement.

You awkwardly scratched at your nose, a bit of a nervous habit she’d picked up over the years.

“No. My parents never had the money to travel.”

Your voice was small, etched in nervousness and anxiety.

He cast you a gentle smile as he pulled the truck around a sharp curve in the road, and there it was.

The house was huge, at least three stories high and stretched across the land it was perched upon. The foundation red brick that looked freshly cleaned (it probably had been), a contrast to the pearly white of the rest of the structure. The curves and contours of the slightly oddly shaped house made it more enchanting and nerve-wracking, especially as you grew closer, tires hitting the smooth cement before your driver moved the shifter and parked the truck.

“Head on in, miss, I’ll get your bags.”

His accent was a combination of Asian mixed with southern, an odd mix that somehow seemed so delicately smooth and perfect, especially the way he drawled over the “r’s”

“Miss?”

You’d been stuck in your thoughts, eyes wide as you surveyed the prospects of your new home.

“Right, yes, thank you,” you said softly, moving to get out, the door creaking as it was opened.

Your black, falling apart sneakers hit the tan pavement of the driveway, the hooks of your overalls rattling loosely against your torso as they accommodated your movements; the loose denim legs falling just above your knees as you pushed the dingy door closed.

The male you’d ridden with, Jaehyun, he said his name was, pulled the latch of the truck bed and reached up to grab your mismatched luggage, his sturdy frame pressing into the hot metal of the truck.

“Do you need some help?”

Your voice was small, mixed with worry and hesitation.

You’d do just about anything to prolong the inevitable.

“That’s quite alright, miss,” he began. “You should head on inside. The heat is a harsh place for a lady,” he answered.

You looked down, playing with your fingers, but you didn’t reply. Instead, slowly moving toward the brick steps that would lead to the entrance of the beautiful home.

~

Anina Lee was a strict lady. She liked things just a certain way and she got them how she wanted. She didn’t tolerate bad behavior or disobedience. And she had a strong dislike for people that got in her way. Thus, she had never been married.

She lived alone, if you count having two live-in maids, a chef, and a stable hand that slept in the barn as living alone.

Alina was your aunt. Your mother’s elder sister who had alienated your mother when she’d married a man of lower class. That same man later had a wife who blessed him with three kids to care for, spending his days fixing the cars of those more fortunate than him, hoping to make a buck for his family.

That’s why you were here. A young girl, coming of age to be married off and starting a family of your very own. Your family couldn’t support you any longer, and as you prepared to move away in hopes of finding some sort of job or a life, your aunt had hastlessly offered to take you in. Your mother had all too happily obliged, hoping her only and eldest daughter would learn a thing or two from the elder woman, maybe turn you into the lady your mother and father had tried for years to make you.

The stainless white door slowly opened and an older woman stood in the frame. She was clearly in her 50s, stress lines drawn thickly in her forehead, wrinkles in the corners of her dull gray eyes, deep lines around her nose and mouth, her neck sagging just a little beneath her sharp jaw. She was a small lady. On first glance one may have a hard time understanding what makes her so fierce. She was small in stature, small in size and in frame, but she had the tongue of a snake, the heart of a lioness, and the skill of a chimp.

“(Y/N)! You’re finally here!”

You stood a good few inches taller than the woman, but that made you more nervous if anything. You made her way up the steps and, as you reached the woman in the door, you were promptly pulled into a proper hug that severely lacked warmth.

“I can’t believe you got on a plane and sat amongst all those people in that ghastly attire. You must change at once!”

The woman’s voice was so shrill it could pierce glass, but you held back the flinch.

“Martha!” the same voice called into the house as she pulled you in, shutting the door and encompassing them in the cool air conditioning.

A larger lady appeared, dressed in stained blue jeans and an ugly yellow shirt.

“Please show my niece to her room and help her change into something more… feminine and lady-like,” her aunt’s voice commanded.

“When you’re finished dear, have Martha show you to my study.”

There was no endearing term in the word “dear.” Simply an icy addition to a perfectly manicured sentence.

You watched your aunts receding form, pencil skirt tight on her legs, black heels sharply hitting the hardwood intimidatingly.

“Come with me, dear. Let’s get you changed,” the larger lady spoke softly.

She was older, maybe 60 or so, her skin dark tan, although you couldn’t tell if it was the sun or her natural skin pigmentation. Her voice was grainy, but soft and endearing. Motherly she’d dare say. And you thought that this woman may actually make living here bearable.

You followed the lady up the grand staircase, up two flights of stairs and down a long hallway until you reached the end. The lady pushed open the thick white door and stepped inside, you following her closely.

Inside, the room was surprisingly rustic. A simple, full-sized bed with an obviously homemade comforter thrown across it. A light gray plush rug beside the bed. The hardwood floors were surprisingly and delightfully bare. One large section of the wall was home to a large bay window that stretched from the ceiling to the plush gray cushion of the bench. There were a few flower paintings and other pointless nicknacks scattered on obsolete surfaces around the room, but you paid no mind to them as your attention was drawn to the lady opening the large mahogany grand dresser and plucking out two cloths.

She unfolded both neatly, placing them on the bed and you sighed. The skirt was long and pleated, patterns of red and white stretched in an annoying kaleidoscope arrangement across the nearly pointless garment and the white shirt appeared to be partly transparent.

“Go ahead and get changed dear, I’ll help you when you finish,” she said kindly and turned her back.

You waited for her to leave the room but it was apparent she had no intention to. Awkwardly, you began unhooking the straps of your overalls, letting the fabric clang to the floor. Your skin heated up, feeling all too exposed before sliding into the skirt, the itchy elastic clinging to your hips uncomfortably. You pulled your stained blue t-shirt off, swapping it for the crisp white one that you feared you’d stain in the next few moments.

The lady turned around, her wide hips bumping into the dresser slightly. The dresser was sturdy enough not to jostle, but it was obvious the corner was sharp and painful. You almost felt bad at the way the lady’s face winced, but it was quickly pushed away as calloused hands began gripping the delicate skin of your arms, squeezing along the skin up your arms.

She tsked and turned around, rummaging through the dresser once again, only to turn around with a black, light cardigan.

You gawked. Why on earth would you wear that atrocious thing in this weather? It was the middle of August! Not December!

“I know. But if your aunt were to see your arms, she’d have a fit. She probably still will,” she said.

You sighed. Your aunt hadn’t changed one bit. Your skin was fragile. The tops of your forearms lightly tanned, a pigment passed on from your father. The rest of your arms and body entirely was light. Lady’s should be gorgeously sunkissed to be beautiful and to be taken seriously.

With a huff, you put on the long black sleeves, the intricately designed cotton draping over your shoulders perfectly. But that didn’t mean it was any more comfortable. You could already feel the added heat seeping onto your skin. You’d be sweaty and uncomfortable soon.

“Now let’s do something about your feet.”

You looked down; your worn socks had holes all through them, mud permanently stained to the sweaty fabric.

Bustling from the room, you were left stunned in the wake of the surprisingly fast woman, watching her round the corner and disappear down the hall to fetch something to apparently “fix your feet.”

You thought you’d do something to speed along the process. The more time spent getting you dressed in these ridiculous clothes, the less time you had to explore the outside world. You made your way to the bay window, taking a seat on the plush cushion that accommodated you nicely. You pressed your back against the edge of the wall and turned your gaze to the picturesque green world filled with surprisingly lush looking grass, dips and hills along the valley, and the tops of trees further off in the distance. All this land was yours for the roaming. You couldn’t wait to get out those doors and go exploring.

The sound of water sloshing in a pot brought your attention back from the window, glancing curiously as the large lady placed the pot down in front of the window.

“Put your feet in.”

You didn’t argue. You were hesitant, but thought better than to argue and have your aunt boil you alive in this pot.

As soon as your dingy, dirty, mud pasted feet hit the water, you hissed. The temperature felt that it could boil the skin right off.

“I’m sorry, I know it’s hot, but your aunt is expecting you down soon and I have to do this as quickly as possible,” the lady said.

Grabbing your left foot, she picked the appendage up from the water along with a suds coated dish sponge and began mercilessly scrubbing away at the tender flesh. You whined and howled, tears pricking to your eyes as your skin was scrubbed and abused by the harsh bristles of the brush. You attempted to yank your foot away, but the tight grip on your ankle prevented much movement. You were stuck suffering as the skin became reddened from the irritation.

~

As soon as the painful experience came to a close, your now pink feet were dried with a towel before being slid into a pair of eccentrically beaded, golden strapped sandals that accentuated the rest of the over-the-top outfit nicely.

“You seem presentable enough now, although I’m sure the mistress of the house would have a few unkind things to say about your wild mane.”

You tried not to take offense. You liked your hair. It was an untamed mop that curved wildly carefree, blowing in the breeze that picked up the thick tufts.

“Thank you for your help ma’am.”

She bowed at the waist, a kind smile on her lips.

“No need for the ma’am dear. Call me Martha, or Mrs. Rivera if you must.”

And with no more haste, Martha Rivera led you back down the grand staircase to the bottom floor, the tight flats biting at your heels and ankles with every step you took, fighting off the winces that followed. You rounded a few sharp corners, venturing into a large sitting room with an extravagant flat screen high on the wall and couches that looked brand new. Through a dining room, table decorated with a sequined bronze cloth and the finest China you’d ever seen, although that wasn’t really a stretch. Finally, they made it to a large oak door, cracked just enough that you could see your aunt’s silhouette sitting behind an elegant red desk, glasses perched on her nose, pen in hand, eyes married to the computer screen. Mrs. Rivera left you by the door, and you almost spun on your heel and walked away. But of course, that would be too easy.

“Come in child. Stop standing in the doorway.”

Your blood froze in your veins. You pushed the door open and stolled in, tripping over the lion skin rug, stumbling a bit before catching your balance. Harsh wisps of breath rushed past your aunt's lips and the chair creaked as the weight lifted from it.

You straightened your back, staring fearfully into the cold gray eyes that trailed over your face and down your clothes.

The woman began moving slowly around you, manicured nails and boney fingers tracing over the outline of your clothes and jaw, running through your wild mane and down your hands, inspecting the bitten off nails. As she walked, she muttered things like “hair won’t do” and “horrible posture” before she stood back in front of you.

“You simply won’t do,” she said sternly.

The words hit hard. You may have been expecting something like this, but it didn’t make the words hurt any less.

“You look like you’ve been sleeping with the horses. Your nails are pitiful. Your skin is far too light.”

She gripped your jaw, tilting your head up harshly to expose your still slightly chubby neck.

“Can you ride a horse?”

The question was sudden and it caught you off guard, but you answered as quickly as your brain would allow.

“N-no. I’ve never ridden before.”

The woman sighed loudly, hot puffs of air pouring out of her flared nostrils.

“That’ll have to change. Starting tomorrow, you will be taking riding lessons from the stable boy. Every lady should have the basic skills of riding,” her tone was cold and brisk as she looked away and perched back at her desk.

“You’re dismissed. Dinner is at 6. Don’t be late. You may roam the grounds.”

With a wave of her hand, she dismissed her niece and immediately went back to work, not bating another eyelash as you fled hastlessly from the room, your eyes welling with tears as stress and fear washed over you, although more relieved that it was over and you could finally do something for yourself. You’d start by ditching these God forsaken shoes.

You made your way around the back door of the house, more by pure necessity than memory, simply logically thinking the best way around in the expansive flooring. When you made it, a smile broke across your face as you unfastened the painful shoes, kicking them off in a sloppy jumble by the door before opening the heavy door, the heat of the afternoon hitting your face, not that you minded.

As you stepped out, bare feeting meeting hot cement, you stripped the cardigan from your shoulders, draping it over a random, sun baked chair. You tore off through the grass, laughing giddily, breeze blowing wisps of your hair, skirt fluttering delicately over your skin. It would be difficult to do anything in the blasted thing, but you wouldn’t give yourself enough time to strip down into something better, opting to enjoy the last of the day while you could. And you’d start in the bright red barn your eyes immediately fell on.

~

Making your way through the soft grass that squished under the weight of your feet, you strolled into the half open barn, the soft snorts of animals bringing a smile to your lips. Just because you couldn’t ride, doesn’t mean you didn’t love the animals. You loved horses especially. They were such beautiful and majestic creatures. You’d always wanted a horse, but your family had never been able to afford one. You’d always wanted to ride, and now you could, although you didn’t understand why it was so important to your aunt.

The cool concrete felt rough beneath your feet, stray straws of hay littering the floor. It could have been a picture straight out of one of the Country Living magazines you’d kept hidden away at your parents home.

The first horse you came upon was a tall brown animal, head hung over the stall door, ears perked to attention, eyes trained on the new invader inside the barnhouse. He snorted at you and his hoof hit the barn door lightly in an attempt at getting closer. You stepped closer, slowly offering your hand out, letting the animal sniff searchingly.

“He’s looking for some sugar cubes.”

The voice came out of nowhere, interrupting your serenity, a yelp leaving your lips as your whole body jolted in the sudden fright.

You turned your head to the barn door where your driver was standing, taunt arms crossed over a broad chest, veiled from prying eyes by a lightweight flannel shirt, the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. His long legs were clad in dusty denim, mud and hay from his knees to the tops of the worn work boots.

“I’m sorry. I just like horses-”

“And you thought you’d come visit them?” he finished your sentence.

You immediately began shuffling your feet, eyes turning back to study the fading paint on the stall to keep from facing him.

Heavy footsteps hit the floor as the male moved closer until he was close enough to touch. His large, rough hand gripped your wrist lightly, bringing it up toward him. You let out a little yelp, riddled with confusion and curiosity until three small blocks were placed in your palm.

“Hold your palm out to him and don’t jerk away,” he spoke calmly, slowly urging you.

You nodded, having some sort of unkempt trust in his words as you turned back to the animal and extended your arm, palm flat, cubed sugar offered to the horse, who greedily munched them right out of your hands.

“His name’s Haechan. He’s a bit of a character.”

You nodded, drawing your now horse-slobbered hand away, opting to stroke the animal's fur from his nose to between his eyes.

“That’s an interesting name,” you said.

He hummed behind you and you heard his boots hitting the concrete as he moved away.

“Do you like animals?” he asked.

You spun around, eyes wide and shining.

“Yes! I love them! Sometimes I prefer animals over humans!”

His smile was gentle as he surveyed your physique, a dusty pink tinting his cheeks, although you thought nothing of it.

“Come on, I want to show you something,”he said, walking past you to the opposite exit of the barn.

You followed close behind, curious as to where he was taking her. Your feet fell back onto the grass, the long blades sliding between your toes as you followed in his wake. As they walked, a white picket fence came into view, not far from the barn, but oddly well hidden beneath the crest of a hill rolling through the land. Once you reached the fence, his hands curled around the boards, hoisting himself up, foot balanced on the bottom board as he climbed up, throwing a leg over one side, then the other, and jumping down. You stared at him in awestruck confusion.

“Climb over, I’ll catch you on this side.”

You didn’t know why you blindly trusted him. You didn’t know him from a random stranger in the town, but you complied, placing your foot onto the same board he had, pulling yourself up and swinging a leg over, then another. The skirt snagged in the boards a few times, one of your feet nearly slipping off the boards as you attempted to keep it pushed down. This proved to be more of a challenge as you balanced on your heels, hands clutching the top piece of wood as you contemplated how to get down now. That is, until his arms outstretched, slightly bent at the elbow, fingers parted, palms facing one another, and you knew what he wanted you to do. Taking a deep breath, you pushed off with your left foot, hands releasing your grip on the fence, letting yourself drop, eyes squeezing in slight fear that you’d soon flop hard against the green earth. But when strong hands caught your waist, arms drawing you in, broad chest breaking your fall, you braced herself against him, feet carefully being lowered until they pressed back into the earth.

“See, that wasn’t so bad.”

His teasing tone had you pulling away, glaring playfully at him before turning and pretending to walk away, leaving him in your path.

At least, until you heard a rustling in the long grass inside the fence.

You squeaked as it grew closer taking a step back as your harsh gaze followed the rustling of the grass, positive a snake would wrap itself around your leg as it dug its venomous fangs into your soft flesh.

Needless to say, you were in for quite a shock when the small head of a brown and white calf popped up from the grass.

And you were sinking to your knees.

The calf moved toward your lowered body, sniffing at your arms until you reached out to run a hand down it’s small head and back, cooing quietly, eyes brimming with unfiltered delight as you wrapped your arms around the baby, stroking the fur of its back lovingly.

“This is Renjun. He’s my little cousin's calf.”

You didn’t say anything. You didn’t have to. Your cooes of joy were enough to show every emotion you were currently feeling.

Horrible aunt or not. You could certainly find worse places to be trapped. At least here you had rolling hills of green, beautiful animals to fawn over, and Jaehyun, handsome stableboy who you couldn’t wait to get to know.