#and I was reluctant to get into it because he has none of the context you need to understand it so I knew it’d be a long ass explanation
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timeofjuly · 6 months ago
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I was persuaded into explaining what the omegaverse is to my boyfriend a few weeks back, tell me why we were just doing a crossword with the clue ‘one might be slippery’ and his IMMEDIATE response was to blurt out “an omega!”, thank you nyt for your crossword clues
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meanbossart · 1 month ago
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ASK COMPILATION #385032: Shape-shifting genitals, mouth-mashing skillsets, who taps out first in the bedroom and the 17 different types of meat this guy eats.
I TRIED TO MAKE THIS A BIG ONE. Thank you everybody for your patience!
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The truth of the matter is that I need one dramatic light-source or I will perish. HOWEVER...
Yeah, they seem the type to leave it purposefully ajar for the thrill of it. As well as the excuse to bring hell down upon anyone caught trying to steal a peek.
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YES, actually! I've had the concept for a comic or two that's precisely about interactions they've had while younger. Comics take a lot of work, and there's a LOT of things I want to do, but that is definitely in the plans.
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Yes! Or rather, as a shapeshifter, I believe she doesn't bother with them 99% of the time, possibly never, even though she has the habitability to form them if she so wished. The Orin DU drow knew was always doll-like in appearance when nude, and he did not particularly mind it or fantasized about anything different.
I believe this is both a preference in Orin's part (and across many shapeshifters, if I recall correctly) as well as a strategic choice.
And thank you so much!
[MORE BELOW THE CUT]
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I don't know, kissing isn't that hard LOL I think they're pretty even-leveled in technique but Astarion is the tonguier one.
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ALL IN DUE TIME, MY FRIEND, ALL IN DUE TIME...
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Maybe 😊 ���though I'm not sure how useful his powers would be in that context.
That said, Indeed! The irony of this match isn't lost on anyone. I'm sure Astarion would have some thoughts about the convenience of it.
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I know this is more of a jokey message, but I don't think Astarion would be cool with that sort of thing, and DU drow most definitely wouldn't ask 😂
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Whatever works, as he would probably say!
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Astarion got drunk through DU drow on occasion while he still fed on him, yes LOL I don't care if that makes sense or not, It's a hysterical concept and definitely factual in my canon. To be fair as well, DU drow is a huge man and has to drink a LOT to get properly wasted - so Astarion wouldn't have to consume a whole lot from him to get on a similar level!
Post a few particular post-campaign events, Astarion gets drunk through strangers' blood that were either piss-drunk already or have been fed alcohol forcibly by the pair.
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He likes thick stews, braised pork, and meat-pies the most. Don't ask me when or why I've decided this but he likes octupi as a every-once-in-a-while treat - I think he mostly enjoys the experience of eating it more than the taste.
For drinks, he likes beer, red semi-dry wine, and mead the most. He also likes a GOOD whisky - none of the copper-coin garbage they serve at most Inns.
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Hi! Incredible question. DU drow can go indefinitely but when he stops he knocks out in record speed. There usually comes a point where Astarion flops over and lets him do all the work.
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You know how, shortly after you find out about it, if you tell Astarion that you're frightened of your origins you get that really heartfelt bit of dialogue about how yourself and him are so much alike, and how he feels similarly powerless before Cazador as you do toward your father? Well, I never got that, because DU drow was too busy squinting into the horizon and contemplating the logistics of his conception which prompts Astarion to, essentially, say something along the lines of "Okay, if all you want to do is discuss your dad's cum I'm out"
So, like that.
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They didn't smash in the graveyard! I'm hoping to either write a short thing about it, draw something inspired by how the scene went down in my head, or, ideally, both!
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That IS kind of a wild comparison but I'm guessing you know about my origins, LOL.
Not... Quite. I'm reluctant to say more because I would like for it to be a surprise that I bring you all through art (even if you can make a pretty accurate deduction based on what has been said so far) but suffice to say that this is the flipside to the Bhaalist DU drow AU.
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I don't think I could find the time 😭😭😭 but that's a hysterical idea and I would gladly mash together a bunch of clips if someone else was willing to highlight them!
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Hello and thank YOU for humoring me in my nerdy little forays!
I hadn't heard about Model/Actriz but I had a little sneak-peek and, indeed, this might just be right up my alley LOL
It's hard for me to remove these characters from their intended universe so I have a difficult time picturing what they would listen to if the options didn't all sound like string-y bardcore music. I'm sure there are more genres to speak of in DnD lore, I'm just ignorant of them!
That said I do have some thoughts about which of them even enjoy music at all.
REALLY enjoys music: DU drow, Jaheira, Misc, Karlach, Wyll.
Modestly enjoys music: Gale, Shadowheart, Minthara, Halsin.
Generally doesn't enjoy music: Astarion, Lae'zel.
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No notes just canonical character information being shared
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I forgot what this one was in reference to for a moment and I was so aghast.
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I really, really hope you weren't hoping for me to give you work-out advice because both, if you were, you've come to the wrong man.
But if you're just wondering about lore here, I think it's a solid 50/50. I think he's predisposed to a really well-built physique because Daddy Bhaal said so AND he's incredibly active and incidentally does a lot of manual labor. If he's had a few too many sedentary days in a row (which is rare) he pretty much has to tire himself through at-home routines or he goes a little cuckoo-bananas as well.
And thank you for being interested in my little freak!
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He's pretty thoroughly desensitized, and thinks far too little of Orcs and half-orcs to be intimidated by them, even when that lack of fear is downright stupid. He's not impervious to fear, however, despite how hard he tries to be - Myrkhul, Grym, the giant Steelwatch, the brain, and even Cazador AFTER he snatched Astarion away were all encounters that made his blood run cold to varying degrees. I think it takes an unfamiliar foe for his sweat to run a little cold.
(Ironically, Raphael had no such effect on him.)
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artsninspo · 6 days ago
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COUNTERFEIT - three
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⇽ part two
➨ rio's library - good girl nbc
「 ✦ full library & archive ✦ 」
🍒 authors note: the story is starting to heat up and give you a sneak peak of whats to come.
🍒 pairing: Rio (Good Girls) X Faith (Original Character) All my characters are black women.
🍒 word count: ~1.8K
🍒 summary: A day party, unexpected guest, damsel in distress, a lot of stress. Confrontation, unexpected chivalry, back stories & unfavourable truths. This one's messy 🌪️ .
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🍒 three - unnatural habitats
I try my best for courage as the city scenes change from outside my window. I can feel Char’s eyes on me. Our argument was conveniently well timed. Now, if I don't show up now to this PR activation of her’s i’ll be toast. The worst sister in the world, problem child extraordinaire. It’s not that I don't want to support Char, it's that Jasonwas invited. In order to secure the necessary funding to make things go off without a hitch she enlisted him knowing his firm's coffers are deep. Knowing Jason, he will be in attendance. It’s the root of my reluctance to attend, not some petty spat and a childish attempt to get even. Char and I didn't speak until last night when she placed the dress she wanted me to wear today on my bed. A pinterest board of context for how I needed to look followed via text along with a detailed itinerary. I reacted to the messages with thumbs up and sat in the make-up artists and hair stylists chairs when they arrived smiling, laughing and talking with them - conceding and playing the role everyone wished to be my permanent disposition.
“Where were you last night?” Char asks, drawing me from my thoughts.
I take a breath before looking over at her, “Out” 
Char rolls her eyes at me before smoothing out her dress - it’s rare vintage and gorgeous. “Out where?” she probes.
“Drinking” I respond being short with her and she sighs.
“Whatever, screw your life up. The rest of us are responsible enough to be your backup plans” she snaps but i’m not in the mood for a back and forth.
“I can act the fool during your event if that's what you want?” I threaten her knowing the social game of chess well. Char glares at me in response. She knows she doesn't have to beg me not to. She knows I'd never knowingly light a match to anything she loves.
“I don't want that - I want the best for you Faith and you're just. I don't know what you're doing!” she shouts.
“I’m 24 and you're 25 Char, what the hell! We’ve got our entire lives ahead of us.”
“How many weddings have we been to the past few summers? How many housewarmings and baby showers?” Char snaps like any one of these guys we grew up with is worth getting to claim her in any way.
“That’s where the party dies Char. How many of our friends are the same?” I ask her.
“Just because you resent Merrick-” Char starts.
“It’s not about Merrick” I snapped, tired of that narrative. “None of this shit is real Char, I don't mind playing pretend but the charade has to end at some point! If mom didn’t have Merrick we could still live the way we do. We have an uncle you know, our fathers brother.”
“Drug money” she whispers well indoctrinated. Char looks at me appalled by my suggestion.
“Because corporations are not just as exploitative and damaging to communities, and the environment?” I ask and she looks at me like I'm a mongrel. Daddy would roll in his grave. That’s the fundamental difference - our father was never self righteous. He never made his choice of employment out to be the right thing - it was just a means to take care of his family. Char was his princess and I was his shadow. 
“Our father killed people and destroyed families with the poison he pumped into the community. Merrick is nothing like that” She snaps as the car comes to a halt. I exit the car and skip photo opps heading straight into the venue I’ve had a hand in decorating - I’m not in the mood to schmooze or network. I head to the bar and get my first round as the music gets good. I throw a few shots back heading over to mingle and maintain my reputation as the ‘fun’ sister. Girls twerk around me but I spare my sisters the embarrassment of my participation. I’m on a cool down when I see Jason watching me with longing. I don’t remember the last time I enjoyed myself this much in his company. I want to run but I can’t because we’ve made eye contact. He looks like he’s been going through it and I can't imagine how much it hurts him to see me looking unaffected by our end.
“Hey” he shouts over the music, having cleared the distance between us.
“Hey” I responded.
“You look beautiful” He smiles with a hand on my hip. It should be familiar and refreshing but it just isn't. He pulls me in coming in for a kiss but I turn my head and step out of his hold before looking at him again.
“Thanks” I mutter, not nearly drunk enough to forget we're over.
“Babe, can we talk?” He asks, lips brushing against my ear.
“We spoke already,” I remind him.
“You haven’t been taking my calls,” he says.
“Because Jason I have nothing more to say!” I say louder my impatience growing.
“Then listen to me, I love you” he says and for a moment the declaration moves me. But then something about him reminds me of Rick and it all goes away.
“Then let me go,” I plead. Jason searches my eyes before anger flashes in his. He pulls me to him like this is a bid for attention, a game of cat and mouse - a way to spice up our relationship and not a breakup.
“You want more attention, I get it. I’m here. I'll work less hours and make more time for us Faith. I love you - stop being like this” he says confirming my suspicions. It's a testament to how well I’ve gotten to know him and how little he’s been paying attention. The whole thing makes me upset and I pull away but he grabs my arms.
“Hey!” A deep voice says in warning. I relax, relieved security is here but I turn to see D’s cousin Rio. His expression is displeased as he sizes Jason up. Jason releases my arms - caught in his below the board behaviour. He straightens and my head spins. Rio’s the last person I expected here or defending me. He gives me a reassured nod before glaring at Jason like Jason has lost his everloving mind. Jason goes to grab me again before Rio steps between us.
“She’s my girl, move�� Jason snaps.
“Doesn’t look like it” Rio responds unmoved.
“Why don’t you go and mind your business?” Jason snaps.
“Faith, is this your boyfriend?” Rio asks, casting a look over his shoulder at me, all the while still using his body as a shield.
“I know everyone she knows and I don’t know you” Jason snaps.
“You can do better than this, ma” Rio taunts with a smile that’s only purpose is to provoke Jason.
“Ma?! Faith, who the hell is this guy?’ Jason snaps ready to make a scene.
“Jason, call me when you aren’t drunk” I shout, needing to diffuse the situation for Char’s sake.
“Faith, don’t walk away from me” he shouts, stepping around Rio to grab at me again and it happens so fast I’m shocked. Jason is grabbed by security and his wallet is plucked from his pocket. Another guard snaps a picture of his license.
“Don’t worry, he won’t be allowed back” the guard says. I force a mortified nod as security makes quick work of throwing Jason out discreetly. A few eyes are on us, Char among them.
Fuck, I curse to myself.
“Thanks” I mumble and Rio turns to face me.
“Let me guess, finance?” He says.
My head is still spinning. “What?”
“He works in finance so he thinks people can be bought? And has shit to lose that's why he aint swing on me for talking to his ‘girl’” Rio says with a knowing, taunting light in his eyes. It kills all of the chivalry of his actions.
“Yes, finance” I admit and he looks me over again like I can do better. 
“Well D would’ve wanted me to look out,” he shrugs cooly.
“Thanks” I respond, feeling deflated.
“I’ll tell the staff you're a friend of the family, you need anything let us know” he comments glancing around the venue.
“Appreciate it” I mutter seeing Char’s wide eyes behind him as she makes her way over.
“No worries. But don’t ever come to the bar dressed like that you hear?” He winks walking away.
“Who was that? He’s hot!” Char asks as Rio disappears. 
“D’s cousin” I answer honestly.
“How do you know him? I don’t remember this cousin.” she asks.
“He was around when I saw D” I omit the full truth and she looks in his direction some more.
“He’s hot” she repeats and I smile.
“He’s not your type”
“What?” she asks.
“I'm pretty sure he doesn’t fit your criteria” I tell her.
“What does he do?” She asks.
“He looks like he does whatever he wants.” I tell her heading back to the bar. The bartender hands me a cherry margarita before I can order.
“From the boss” he smiles and I do too. My sister watches me with a hundred questions when I don’t pay and I know it’ll be a long interrogation. I wonder if Rio’s actions are genuine kindness or flirting - either way the man is attentive and clearly dangerous. I head home shortly after the incident, skipping out on the after parties. When I wake up I see a slew of emails from Jason and roll my eyes. I see a message from char saying she’s doing hot yoga and relax until my phone rings. I check the caller ID with one eye open and see Diego’s name. Relief washes over me and I answer.
“Hello”
“Char called”  Diego says on the other end of the video call.
“Yeah?” I ask and he nods.
“Asking if you were involved with my cousin” Diego says and I roll my eyes.
“Jason was sloshed and getting aggressive instead of my sister intervening your cousin did.” I explain.
“I know he told me, then asked me if guys like Jason are your type” Diego says with a knowing expression.
“We both know he isn’t” I admit. “How's the play off season going at the bar?” I ask.
“Good. You low on money?” he asks.
“No, I've been living off the tips and saving my salary. It’s nice.” I admit.
“Rio’s out of town next weekend so if you want to work let me know” he offers.
“I’m in” I tell him.
“Good”
“Did Char tell you she thinks Rio is hot?” I ask and his eyes bug out.
“Rio isn’t her type, he has a son and two girlfriends” D says, surprising even me.
“Two” I exclaim shocked and D nods. “And he’d pretend Char’s the only one,” I add, shaking my head.
“Good at it too,” D scoffs, making me laugh.
“Then he’s exactly her type, she still believes in playing pretend” I tell Jason who swallows.
“Both of you need to stay away from him.” D says before changing the subject to something lighter.
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group project - COUNTERFEIT (RIO)
authors note: checking in with readers. the first chapter did well but the second not so much. idk if you all are busy or tired with the state of the world, tired of rio or adjusting to the change in POV. Whatever the case I'm willing to pause updating this story for now and revisit updating it later.
This story is a slower burn than Forgiveless but I promise all the mess and spice you love and more is on the horizon.
Comment, Like & Reblog if you want more of this story.
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eternallyseverus · 2 years ago
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!YOUNG Severus Snape x y/n | Drunk People do not lie
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COFFEE | On AO3 here - 1595 words
Summary: Severus and you became best friends and feelings start to develop but none of you dares to say anything, not sure about your own feelings but everything is cleared out once the two of you end drunk in a Slytherin party.
A/N: I am not a native English speaker so I am sorry for any spelling mistake and if my first smut scene is too bad :D. I tried my best! Also I am not 100% happy with this one. It is intended to be a two chapters story but I am not sure if you guys will like it. :] Maybe the beginning is a bit slow because I ALWAYS HAVE THE NEED TO GIVE A CONTEXT AND A DEVELOPMENT.
Triggers/Warnings: Y/N is a she probably using female pronouns. Both are of age. Mentions of bully. Alcohol involved and hint of sex / intimacy. I think I am not forgetting anything else. :] ---------------------------------------------------- Severus and you have been inseparable since at the beginning of the seventh year he was paired with you in a potion project but it was hard, extremely hard for you to get closer to him and to be able to call each other best friends.
It was obvious why he was reluctant to let you in. People would mock him, bully him and life taught him nothing but to be defensive towards everyone and every moment in his life so the moment you started to show him kindness (since the very first minute you were paired with him for that project) he taught that it was because you needed to get a good grade so it was convenient for you to treat him like that.
But it wasn’t like that.
You heard a couple of rumors about him which you dismissed because luckily you grew up with the mindset of judging the people yourself with their actions not with the words other random people had about them.
You only found him a bit cold and grumpy but you thought that it was something normal because people are different so it might not be in his nature to be a warm person. But you were wrong about that.
The day you found him being teased in the Great Hall by the marauders, the way others laughed and didn’t do anything made your blood boil and you quickly got in the middle of their actions, threatening the entire group and not hesitating to take out your wand to duel them if needed. All of those weeks made you grow fond of Severus, of how intelligent, quiet, respectful he was. How hardworking as well and every time he looked at you, you were starting to see a hint of his kindness and some softness that was covered by layers of… something that you couldn’t quite decipher until that precise moment.
During that night the two of you went to the Astronomy Tower and he thanked you for your kindness and he broke in front of you, crying in your arms and telling you everything that he has been going through.
And you listened without interrupting him, only offering your warmth, your gentle strokes to his long hair and your shoulder so he could cry on.
Severus knew that you perhaps were different, not judging him and not treating him differently after talking about his life, about his pain, about his trauma.
Through the following weeks the cold and short answers became longer and warmer ones, gaze exchanged through the library and you dropped your circle of friends to spend more time with him.
He became even more gentle in everything: with his words, with his actions and with his small touches in your arms and hands whenever the two of you talked, worked or studied together.
It was due to that that you started to feel uneasy because Severus started to be, sometimes, unexpected with his words towards you.
“You look pretty today” or some “I just saw this flower and it reminded me of you when you smile” or even a daily “I missed you” every time the two of you met.
You reciprocated his words each time with a timid blush in your cheeks that (you didn’t know) he extremely loved and you started to feel some tingling around your body.
—----------------------------------------------------------------------
Before Christmas Holidays arrived the Slytherin House decided to do an illegal party in a hidden part of the castle to celebrate the end of the year so obviously you had to go.
You begged him and with pouty lips and some kind words Severus had accepted to go with you knowing that no one would dare to say something to him if you were around.
So there you were with him. Surrounded by sweaty and drunk colleagues, alcohol floating around and loud music.
—------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Stop telling me these things” you said breathlessly, the loud music making it hard for Severus to understand you.
“Tell you what?!” he said a little bit too loud due to the extra cups of butterbeer, firewhiskey and wine plus the loud music was making it difficult to understand you.
“Stop telling me these things Sev” you said again sounding a little bit annoyed. Severus didn’t hear your tone but he completely knew when you would be annoyed due to the change in your body expression.
His hand went to cup your cheek and your body temperature rose way too fast for your liking. Severus was almost in auto pilot, his desires and feelings conducting his actions and all was thanks to the alcohol.
“Telling you what? That I enjoy being around you? That you look pretty today?” he repeated some of the things he has been telling you tonight and you just nodded slowly.
“Yes, all of that Sev” you confirmed to him, getting closer and both bodies extremely closer. It was needed so your mouth could go closer to his ear so he could hear you better.
“And why would I need to stop?” He replied back to you, his mouth also closer to your ear.
You didn’t realize but he had wrapped his left arm around your hip so both of you could be positioned better but the truth was that he desired for your warmth.
“Because you make me feel things, Sev” you replied a little bit too honestly, praying that you would not make him feel uncomfortable.
Severus blinked twice and looked at you and he placed his glass of firewhiskey on a table that was on his right side.
“What… things?” he ventured to ask. 
You gulped and started to speak again, slowly, trying to carefully pick your words and your hot breath tickling his neck and earlobe making him lose the left control he had in himself.
“You make me feel things, Sev. When you talk to me like this, When you hold my hand. When you look at me. I feel butterflies inside of me” you pointed at your stomach feeling silly “And make me yearn for your touch, and look good only for you” He was looking at your lips hearing everything you had to tell him. He only was able to say the last sentence
“Good only for me” 
“Yes, for you” you replied back, your mouth moving slowly towards him.
“And… only me” he moved his mouth as well, this time his lips brushing softly against yours. “What you are feeling, y/n, is love” he ventured to say in a bold move. Once again, thanks to the alcohol.
“Do you think so?” you replied back mimicking the soft brushes of his lips. 
“I do, because I do feel the same” and after that sentence he closed the gap and he gave you a clumsy kiss. Thin lips warm that tasted like a weird mix of alcohol but that made you have your eyes widened processing his confession and his kiss.
The music was loud and your heart was pounding, your thoughts racing trying to understand that he had the same symptoms as you do: love, desire, yearning to be touched.
Your hands wrapped around his waist and you kissed him feverishly, biting from time to time his bottom lip earning a soft moan from him.
People were glancing at the two of you, Severus kissing a girl and you kissing him. No one said anything, but it was obvious what they were thinking.
Your hand moved from his waist to unbutton his shirt and he grabbed your hand softly to stop you and then he shook his head.
“Not here, not now” he said breathlessly and pressed his forehead against you.
Your shoulders slumped thinking that maybe, just maybe, your advances were making him uncomfortable and that he didn’t like you more than to share some kisses.
“O okay Sev, I am s sorry” you stuttered, feeling shy. Maybe he was right, it was in the middle of a party but the two of you could move to the bathroom or an empty chamber?
“I am not rejecting you. I said not now and now here” he said a bit shyly and he intertwined his fingers with yours.
“You don’t deserve your first time with a drunk man, in a nasty bathroom or bedroom. You deserve it in a nice place where I can give you time and the sober kisses you deserve”
Severus didn’t know that these words and feelings existed inside of him. And he never thought that he had a chance to share this time of actions with someone else and more with someone who really liked that much. 
But it was the truth.
He didn’t want to give her drunk kisses, quick encounters in a nasty place in the middle of parties. Not, at least, in her first time. Even if it was his first as well he only priority was her and only her.
You nodded slowly and gave him a smile. Severus stood silently looking at you and you stood looking at him.
“Wanna go on a date with me?!”
“Perhaps we can have a… date?!”
The two of you laughed after asking each other at the same time for a date. Even in your drunken state you found him the most handsome man in the entire world.
No need to confirm that indeed the two of you would be accepting each other’s date but you simply kissed him once again enjoying the rest of the night and a couple of butterbeers more that earned a huge hangover the following day.
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for-hunger · 3 months ago
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For me, the most interesting difference between IWTV the book and IWTV the show is that Anne Rice's vampires don’t have sex.
Anne Rice's vampire world is actually a lot bleaker and less human than AMC's because of this.
For book vampires, killing replaces all pleasures - food, love, companionship - but primarily the 1:1 exchange is sex. Louis famously makes this connection when Claudia asks him what sex was like and he calls it "the pale shadow of killing"- even if vampires could have sex, it wouldn't compare to the pleasure of the kill. The detailed descriptions of vampire feeding are directly sexual. For example, take Lestat feeding on a young boy:
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The language that Rice uses to describe the vampires' hunting behaviors also recalls sexual patterns. Claudia and Lestat are described as "seducers" of mortals who enjoy affairs- wining and dining their prey, enjoying both their talents and their suffering. Louis seeks something more like a series of self-hating lapsed-Catholic one-night stands:
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This difference is most interesting when it comes to Louis's existential crisis. In the show, Louis deals with his evil through "vegetarianism," i.e. abstaining from killing humans. For AMC's vampires, killing is a (highly enjoyable, sensual, occasionally sexual) means to an end- the end being blood and therefore survival. Louis may be deeply uncomfortable, psychically and physically, but there are other things he's living for: his business, his family, his daughter, sex and romance with Lestat.
But in the book, vegetarianism is impossible in the long term.
Just before Claudia's turning, book Louis has been vegetarian for 4 years, and his existential crisis is at its peak. Lestat tries to get through to him about his reluctance to kill:
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Lestat seduces him in a romantic and striking speech about how "evil is a point of view" and they are "dark angels"; "no creatures under God are as we are, none so like Him as ourselves." And unlike in the show, Book Louis listens to him, because his life has become unlivable. He realizes that killing is "everything," because "there is nothing else"- no sex, no food, no companionship - or at least, nothing that at all compares in meaning. Other pleasures are only "the pale shadow of killing," as Louis says.
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Killing for Louis (and the rest of Anne Rice's vampires) not only sates physical hunger. It is the (only) cure for existential despair. In stark contrast to Show Louis, Book Louis gives up vegetarianism after Lestat's speech, adopting a more vampiric attitude, and never returns to it:
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The show engages with the larger themes and dynamics surrounding Louis's reluctance to kill that the book pointedly ignores - mainly the active evils of racism and homophobia. It masterfully weaves Louis's internalized homophobia in with his disgust for his own evil. It shows the limits of the vampires' power over the world in that no one can kill their way out of Jim Crow.
The choice to deemphasize the sexualized pleasure of killing makes sense in this context. I don't think either of these themes would make as much of an impact if Louis couldn't have meaningful gay sex and interracial romances the way he does. But it certainly makes for a different world. Anne Rice's vampires are isolated existentially, cut off from any of the satisfactions of the human world, and this makes them selfish and remote, even from each other. Sadism in all forms becomes the prevailing pleasure, the prevailing dynamic of interaction- when Claudia seeks to hurt Louis, she compares their arguments to sex, saying "hurting you as I do now... that is also the pale shadow of killing." (207) I'm curious to see how and if this plays out in the rest of the books.
(Disclaimer that I haven't read any of the books except Interview with the Vampire)
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sunbloomdew · 2 years ago
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Love Confessions in the Baxter DLC
The sequel! Monochrome obsession continues. Part 2/3
Part 1 "The Wedding Confession"
Welcome, or hello again! I played the Baxter DLC a couple of times and I like it a lot, so I wanted to ramble about some of my favourite parts. Specifically about love confessions in Baxter’s version of Step 4, because they are all very well written and make me feel good :3
Reading the first part of this "series" isn't necessary, the introduction is just a bit more thorough in the first post. Furthermore if you've read the first part it might seem like i'm repeating myself with certain points, since those moments share some similarities and i like to be meticulous.
It is time for the second confession and the last one that can be initiated by the player. If you don’t confess here and pick an option in which MC expresses hope of Baxter returning their feelings, you will later reach the moment where Baxter asks MC out himself. This confession is my personal favourite, so prepare for me losing my mind over every single detail.
Spoilers for Baxter DLC!
The confessions all happen after the wedding ceremony, so if you hadn't played to this point yet, i recommend skipping this post (and maybe coming back later, if you wanna chat about them with me)! I may not bring up every single line, but i think this post still covers a good part of what happens.
I call this confession, The Morning Confession, because it takes place on the morning after the wedding! Simple name but it does the job.
There is also another reason for this name, but i'll get to it later.
The wedding is over and most stuff had been cleaned up. MC returns with Baxter to his apartment, after accepting his invitation to stay with him until they have to come back to their home. The two have finally reunited and they aren’t ready to part ways yet.
During that evening, MC and Baxter share a moment by the fireplace in the lobby of the building. I wanted to dedicate some time to this moment, because I think it’s a valuable context to the confession. And aside from providing insight into the mind of Baxter Ward, I love the way it’s written. So sue me, i wanna talk about it.
Despite the fact that they have reconciled, Baxter’s reasoning behind his actions still isn’t fully clear to MC. While being in the company of other people made the lingering unease between them bearable, it still remains. They can't act casually, as if nothing had happened, as if the years hadn’t been lost. So Baxter offers to clarify his point of view. “As sorry as I am, I don’t think I’ve been as open as I could have been” he says and well, that is the truth.
If the player chose to confess to Baxter before this conversation, this moment provides a deeper understanding of the character and explains his reluctance to accept the confession.
It is here by a fireplace – a fitting spot for another personal conversation, considering the duo's shared history – that Baxter reveals his innermost thoughts and fears. At his core, he believes he doesn’t contribute anything to any relationship, because he can't see his own value. And to him, if he doesn’t add anything, then he has no right to form and be in deep, mutually supportive relationships.
Baxter convinced himself that he doesn’t matter. That his only worth is in the entertainment he can provide or the help he can give. In his own words, he doesn’t know what it means to be significant to a person, just by being yourself. Which is why he doesn’t let people get close to him. He assumes that upon finding out that there is nothing more to him, they will leave. So it’s better to not let anybody get to know him, that way no one can be disappointed by his “true” self. He is unable to see that none of that is true because deep down, he thinks he is worthless as a person.
Those feelings about himself are something that have influenced Baxter’s decisions about relationships with other people, for example with Xavier. As the baker reveals later, they always felt that if Baxter had no reason to contact them again, he wouldn't. He kept himself away from others and believed that every connection he makes isn’t meant to last.
Still, Baxter wanted to create bonds with other people. And it terrified him.
He wanted to have that with MC, but he was too afraid to take that chance five years ago. It couldn't have worked out back then. Baxter had his assumptions about himself and others, and he held onto them strongly. It’s sad, but there was no way to make him change his ways back then. He was set on leaving no matter what would have happened.
This Baxter is different from the 19 year old who put his comfort above all else. During that conversation by the fireplace he is being vulnerable in ways he never allowed himself to be before. He tells MC that he missed them over those five years. That they made him feel wanted that summer, and as incredible as it felt, he couldn’t believe it would last. He makes it clear that it wasn’t any of MC’s actions that made him feel that way - he applied this mindset to every connection he made at that time.
It’s incredibly sad to witness his thoughts out in the open like that. I think Baxter’s struggles are something most of us can relate to in some way. Low self-esteem can make people withdraw from social situations and spiral into self-hatered. It’s terrible, to be so wrapped up in disliking yourself that you assume that nobody could ever like you. That you have no good qualities as a person, so you have to make up for them somehow. It can feel like it'll stay this way forever, and so there is no point in trying to connect with others.
However that is not true. In the end, Baxter came to understand this as well. He is worthy of love and friendship. He grew and learned from his past mistakes, and so can we.
He apologises to MC once again, and expresses deep regret over not staying in contact with them. And at last, MC can say that they actually know Baxter Alexander Ward.
I think this moment is really beautiful. It’s an apology without excuses, that provides an explanation. Baxter never had malicious intentions, but even so, his actions had hurt people who cared for him (and who he cared about), so he owns up to his mistakes and does his best to correct them.
Aside from being a really good moment of taking accountablity and being vulnerable with another person this conversation also sets the mood for the morning confession. The air is finally cleared. These two characters can finally show how much they value each other because there is mutual understanding and trust between them again. It will take some time to get to know each other after so long, but they are willing to try, and they know they can be honest.
After a day full of emotional revelations, Baxter and MC finally head to bed. Not only the characters, but the players can take a breath and prepare for what’s to come. And boy are we in for a treat.
The next day arrives and the players are given an option to sleep in as much as they want. What time MC wakes up will have an effect on dialogues and is one of the many examples of how the game lets us customize the protagonist however we want, even in the silliest ways. It is something i deeply appreciate about the Our Life series. The comfort level also changes the lines, for example MC's response to Baxter greeting them in the morning.
Eventually the sleeping beauty wakes up and the pair moves to the living room. Despite sleeping in for a while Baxter is still out of it and it’s so adorable (he's just like me fr).
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I think the tone set for the confession is lovely. The atmosphere in the morning is relaxing and light and to me it feels like this is exactly what those characters needed. A new day has arrived, not only literally but figuratively for their relationship. There is no negative tension in the air, just the feeling of peace. They are clearly enjoying each other's company and it's great to finally have that again.
This is only my opinion, but the way this moment feels is exactly why i like it more than the wedding confession. The previous confession is meant to feel rushed, high on emotions and full of determination to declare the feelings right away. MC feels like they have to be upfront about their feelings in that moment so they confess. I do enjoy this type of tension, but i simply prefer this kind of setting. As much as i love convincing Baxter to truly express his feelings by shooting down the reasons not to date him (it's so intense and dramatic! absolutely amazing) i find that i like this quiet admission of feelings more.
While it might not be that intense as the moment right after the wedding, there is still this nagging feeling that urges MC not to wait any longer. They love that they are included in this private corner of Baxter's life and they wish they could have been before. It's this feeling of not wanting to lose any more time, that makes them think about confessing then and there.
And so, the player is presented with a choice:
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It is time to confess! Hallelujah.
Just like in the wedding confession we can pick the way we want to confess - with words or with a gesture. If we pick the third option you lose the chance to confess yourself. Instead Baxter will do this when the time comes.
Upon choosing one of the ways to confess, MC has the same internal monologue they do in the wedding confession. I've already shared my thoughts about it in the previous post, but i'll just say here that it's a very nice scene. They reminisce about their relationship with Baxter as a whole, eventually coming to the conclusion, that they can hold on to him.
After the monologue ends, the player has a chance to reaffirm their decision, as they did in the previous confession.
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If you back out, MC thinks that they can be together just not in the way they'd want to. They are afraid of confessing, in case they ruin what they just got back and make Baxter run away.
But, if you reaffirm your decision, you get my personal favourite confession scene. Let's get right into it!
I mentioned in Part 1 that Baxter reacts to MC's silence, as they reminisce about their relationship. I find it a little funny when i imagine them just sitting in silence and staring intensely for a while. Kinda like when magical girls have their transformations and the bad guys don't do anything to interrupt them. MC monologuing definitely gives off the same energy. Writing inner monologues is tricky like that.
During the wedding confession Baxter is anxious and worried, waiting to receive MC's verdict. Do they welcome him back to their life? Or do they reject him (even though there is no such option in the game)?. It's stressful and the prolonged silence makes Baxter slowly come back to his usual behaviour to protect himself, in case his vulnerability was the wrong move.
This isn't the case here. His reaction is wildly different. There is no tension or stress, just curiosity and anticipation. Instead of being nervous he is very smug, clearly knowing or at least suspecting what MC is thinking about. I gotta say, when i first picked this option i was stunned. I did NOT expect him to act in this way, but it was a pleasant surprise. Mr. Ward is very perceptive and i love this confident attitude of his.
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MC asks him what is on his mind, and he comes back to reality. Baxter encourages them to continue, but they insist he tells them what's going on. And that's what he does. He says that he was remembering a "funny story". Then he asks MC if they want to know something absolutely embarrassing. With that kind of an opening, how could they refuse?
Baxter tells them that Jude and Scott attempted to speak to him about his and MC's... situation. He was surprised that they noticed he was sad and wanted to help him, when he was supposed to be doing that with their relationship. I think it was his feelings of inferiority that made him feel that way.
Moving on, the reason he brought that up wasn't to draw attention to how his poor relationship management skills made others concerned for him. But rather to point out, that the men knew, that MC is important to Baxter. Baxter states that he was grateful they met and despite ending their relationship five years ago, he was never sorry he knew MC. He is kinda chaotic with his admission, one second bringing up the chat with the grooms and the other expressing his affection for MC.
Understandably, it makes MC confused. They thought they were the one leading the dance - or the conversation in this case - but clearly now it's Baxter doing that (i mean he is a professional). Even so, he isn't as good with his words as usual and doesn't quite manage to convey what he wants to MC.
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He thanks MC for letting him "ramble" for so long and stands up. Shit's getting real. We're about to enter the boss fight.
He moves to sit on the edge of the coffee table, which puts him at the eye level with MC, only closer than before. And then this silly man leans closer acting all calm and confident. Dude. Please. Everytime i play this moment i lose my precious ability to formulate thoughts, not to mention actual sentences. Because. Oh my god.
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And then he hits you with THAT. He absolutely knew what MC was thinking about and he is having a lot of fun with teasing them. They realize that he caught on to what was going on and figure that at least it makes it easier to confess. The dialogue varies in this place because of the comfort level - these are their thoughts on the Direct setting. They also think about how hard would it be to tell him they liked him before he opened up to them. I find it pretty funny, because it’s clearly a tiny poke, towards players who did confess right after the wedding and faced this struggle. When you’re replaying those moments it does make you chuckle.
Now we can finally confess our feelings! When doing that verbally there are a couple of options to choose from, as in the case of the wedding confession. One of the options is: "Could I consider all the time we spent together a date?" and you already know i love this one. It's playful, it's a reference to when Baxter asked MC out five years ago, it's perfect. There is no contender, i always choose it.
...Is what i would say, but i actually always choose the option to confess with a kiss during this feelings reveal.
Confessing with a kiss looks a bit different from the first confession. This time there aren't multiple options to choose where we want to kiss him, MC goes straight (or is it?) for the lips. And the way that kiss is described is everything to me. I'm an absolute sucker for kissing scenes and this one is just so, so, so good! I cannot find fitting words in english (and neither can i in polish) so i'll just drop one screenshot from it and move along before i combust.
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It's so tender and sweet and adorable please-
While Baxter was acting super confident and cocky, the second MC declares their love for him/moves to kiss him he turns into a shy, blushing mess. Despite knowing or at least suspecting what MC was about to do he is still caught of guard. I think that his reaction is absolutely adorable. Baxter doesn't blush a lot, so it's always a treat when he does.
We can choose to tell Baxter, that MC wanted to be with him even five years ago and this stuns him again.
Now that MC have confessed their love they're waiting for Baxter to respond. But GOD, is he struggling. It's the first time Baxter is so flustered and it makes me so giddy. He allows himself to show how much MC means to him and holy shit, this man cannot look at them for too long because he will just blush even harder.
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From the way he is acting it's already clear that he reciprocates MC's feelings. But the fact that he gets so shy? Stole my heart, sir how dare you be so cute.
Of course, Baxter Ward cannot stay flustered for long and he eventually recovers. Damn it.
His response to the confession is so sweet. He basically says "my turn" and tells MC all the things he loves about being with them, how they made him feel and how much he appreciates them. There is still a moment of self-loathing, when Baxter regrets trying to keep MC out of his life- twice. He is surprised that MC still has feelings for him, still wants to be with him despite all the pain he caused them.
He still brings up all the potential reasons why this could be a bad idea. Limited connections, his current financial situation and his past ways of managing relationships. But unlike in the Wedding Confession, here those aren't statements for MC to refute. I'd say they are less of a warning for MC and more of an expose of himself, to be sure that he revealed everything he considers a flaw before accepting their confession. "By all accounts, I shouldn't be doing this. But I am." - those are his words. Even if he still has his doubts, he isn't going to turn MC down anymore. If he let them go now, in fear of potentially not being enough in this relationship, he would regret it.
And so that is his response: "If you'll have me you will have me." Don't mind if i do- yoink.
While he calmed down a bit for this admission, he gets flustered yet again. It's so adorable to see him be so affected by MC and this situation.
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Baxter says that it was easier asking MC out himself all those years ago. He is still so out of it that he voices out loud that he has no idea what to do now. His usual grace and poise are still on leave it seems. He follows it up with that it would be the best if he switched from sitting on the coffee table to somewhere with a backrest, just in case. Dude. Baxter is so strongly impacted by this confession that he is fully aware that there is a possiblity that he will just topple down. I'm melting, it's so cute!
He moves to the couch and MC joins him over there. Once Baxter calms down a bit, he says he is starting to "remember some possiblities" and the two kiss again. I can't even begin describe how much i love the way the kissing moments are written. They're amazing and i'm losing my mind.
The last question Baxter has is if his feelings were obvious to MC. He recounts when Jude asked him point-blank if he was still 'into' MC - we get a couple of dialogue answers to pick, either reacting to Jude even asking about it or answering Baxter's question.
And that is the end of this confession! Baxter overcomes his sheepishness at last, no longer blushing intensely. Quite a shame, but i think we all love his usual charming self as well.
There are no more reservations about showing his true feelings. The pair has been reunited after five years and are finally ready to start a long-term relationship. Good for them <3
Baxter shares one last thought at the end of this long conversation:
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And yes, this is the other reason why i call this confession the Morning Confession specifically! It's entirely because of Baxter pointing it out. And because he is so surprised about this turn of events.
The second part is finally over! I worked on it during those two weeks (holy fuck, why) it took me to post it. I'm a bit bummed it took me this long to finish it, but i did my best <3
This part is definitely longer than the first, the brainrot got to me. I haven't started the third part yet but i already replayed the last confession scene and honestly? I forgot how good it was compared to the other two! Shame on me, truly.
See you in the third part! Peace out~
Part 1
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iswerebyit · 2 months ago
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🖤 Nat
Profile
Full Name: Natash Iswere
Aliases: Nat, Natty, Iswere, gNat
Sex: Female
Pronouns: She/Her
Physical Age: 23 ᶠⁱˣᵉᵈ
Actual Age: 50+
Species: Human
Attributes: Pact (Familiar)
Height: 5'7"
Weight: 142lbs
Skin Tone: Ivory
Eye Color: Dark blue-gray
Hair Color: Ash brown with black shadow/underside
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Overview
Capricious, Impish, Audacious —⠀Personality In Three Words
It could be said that Natash, a.k.a Nat, is an incarnation of chaos, often serving as more of a wildcard sort in any given context. One may consider her a living, breathing meme. While her loyalties may come off as questionable at times, Nat does honestly mean well. Some may see her as the "crazy aunt" or "goblin" friend in a group.
Nat is brazen, adventurous and a shameless flirt towards almost any legally available individual who may make eye contact with her. Despite her capacity to be a "gremlin," she can actually be quite provocative. Though, she can be quite provocative in every sense of the word. She has an air of mischief about her that can lead to some splendid, albeit dangerous outings. Even for those unwilling to participate!
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Brief History
It is not hard to imagine Nat was just as rambunctious as a child as she is today! She was raised by a single parent; her biological father, Allen, (affectionately referred to as "Al," by most.) Though Nat was nothing short of trouble, her father was a kind and hard-working man who cared for her unconditionally. Nat's mother, on the other hand, was an absent parent. Her mother, Bretta, was involved in what some may consider the "dark arts," taboo constructs and witchcraft regarded as heresy by the more prominent religious groups of the region.
In Nat's early twenties, her mother was killed, leaving nothing in her name other than a Familiar named Sven. This demon was a long time companion of her mother's, who was willed to take to Nat's side should she ever die. Despite a shared interest and open-minded view of the "dark arts" that her mother had, Nat was initially reluctant to accept Sven as a pact partner. However, in knowing he was all that remained of her mother and curious about the stories he and Bretta shared together, Nat accepted him. Thus, a pact was formed and Nat was immortally bound to Sven, in life and in death from that day forward.
Mingling with the taboo and wilder sides of life didn't stop there either. One evening, Nat happened to cross paths with an unfortunate vampire, Leo, who she helped to get back on his feet and keep safe from the public eye. Being a man of many troubles as well, Leo and Nat (and Sven) inevitably came to form what may be regarded as a somewhat unethical, but rather close relationship over the years. Though they lived more separate lives, they would soon come to take on a rather wild and adventurous future (even for them) as a team.
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Extras
Birthday: October 7th ᴱᵃʳᵗʰᵉⁿ ᶜᵃˡᵉⁿᵈᵃʳ
Orientation: Pansexual
Occupation: "Iswere By It" Engineering
Past Occupations: None
Skills: Can design and modify custom gear and is proficient in combat
Hobbies: Traditional art, gaming, partying and generally being a menace
Favorite Colors: Blacks and darker shades of red
Favorite Consumables: Pepperoni pizza, cinnamon rolls and all forms of coffee and chocolate
Fears: Commitment, losing loved ones
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Trivia
Nat was created initially as a joke as well as a self-insert character; given this, her full name is a pun. "Natash Iswere" is a play on the phrase "not Ashe, I swear!"
The business Nat works for on the regular is a family owned business, run by the generations on her father's side. Being that most of Nat's creation revolved around being a joke, the name of their shop is also a pun. "Iswere By It"obviously being a play on "I swear by it."
Sven, though largely carnivorous, thoroughly enjoys brownies and has the capacity to devour an entire tray of them! Because of this, Nat often makes brownies and offers them as treats to Sven.
Despite having little to no musical talent whatsoever, Nat is often interpreted as a drummer in musical AUs (alternate universes.)
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References
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cheswirls · 8 months ago
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there's not anything from the beginning of the cyberpunk au that is ready to share (too many holes and fill-ins and such that i don't feel like correcting rn) so instead here's three takes of a particular breakdown scene from the second act that is. uh. hopefully far, far enough away from being published that this part fades from everyone's minds by then :) but if not, no context is a killer
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Ace moves back into the room he and Sabo had formerly occupied alone. He’s not sure how to take that at first, and seeing the lack of Sabo’s belongings spread around the shared space hits like a punch to the gut. But after a spell, he resolves to give Sabo some space. He’ll come around when he’s ready, Ace tells himself. All Ace has to do is be patient.
It quickly becomes painfully obvious that things are not that simple.
Sabo starts avoiding him, little by little. At first it’s almost unnoticeable. He’ll stiffen in Ace’s hold, then shy away from Ace’s touch, then casually move to avoid it altogether. They’ll be in the same room, in the same space, and yet it suddenly feels like Sabo is worlds away. 
It’s such a sharp contrast compared to how they were when Ace was first recovered. Where Sabo would cling to him with pain in his eyes, unwilling to let Ace out of sight for any reason. Now he’s so reluctant to initiate any sort of contact at all, and when it’s just the two of them, no matter the situation, Sabo finds an excuse to be somewhere else.
Ace thought, given time, Sabo would move back in with him. That the room he was staying in now would be temporary the longer he adjusted to Ace being back. But it turns out to be the opposite. The more time goes on, the less he sees of Sabo in general. 
With help, Ace manages to confront Sabo before he’s confined himself in his office for the day. It’s tense and awkward where it doesn’t need to be, should never need to be. Sabo doesn’t have any reasons for his recent behavior that he’s willing to give to Ace. So Ace starts offering his own, wanting to finally get to the bottom of this.
He hits rock bottom with his final guess, convincing himself that no matter how Sabo answers, he’ll accept it. But Sabo surprises him again, head shooting up to look at Ace with wide, scared eyes, one hand outstretched in Ace’s direction.
“Of course I–” Sabo stops, his voice failing him, and turns his head sharply to choke on the sob stuck in his throat. Ace steps forward, dropping to his knees to kneel at Sabo’s side, and risks grabbing Sabo by the shoulders so he’ll finally look at Ace.
Sabo’s teeth are gritted tight. There are tears in the corners of his eyes, and after a moment, he blinks harsh and two wet trails run down his cheeks. “Maybe that’s the problem,” he whispers, and Ace’s heart stops thudding in his chest.
Sabo continues, oblivious to Ace’s condition. “If I didn’t love you anymore, maybe this would be easier. Maybe it would stop hurting all the time.” He glances over and ends up holding Ace’s gaze, sincerity blooming in his own eyes in a way that physically pains Ace, when coupled with the words he says. “It’s so empty,” Sabo confesses, reaching up to grab at his heart. “It has been ever since you d–” He shakes his head. “And now that you’re back, I can’t even feel happy about it. It aches, Ace. It’s indescribable, and you don’t even feel it!”
Sabo leans back, out of his hold, almost toppling from the chair. “You left me!
[Take 2.]
It’s hard not to notice all the changes, but at first, especially in the beginning, it’s easy to ignore them.
Sabo clings to Ace in such an unnatural way. He has a new room now, because none of his belongings remain in the room he and Ace had shared. But it would be hard to tell otherwise, because Ace is there, and Sabo occupies the space as if he had never left. 
It’s different from before, like when Sabo had first moved in with him. Ace still remembers it well. Sabo being in here all the time, even when Ace was not. Sleeping in the same bed more days out of the week than in his own room, and then casually borrowing items from Ace until he began to leave space for his own. At first it was clothes for the next day in an empty drawer Ace never had the need to fill. Then various hygiene products taking up space in the en-suite bathroom one by one. Sabo brings a bag filled with various things that never end up leaving, and by the end of a particularly draining week, when they’re both back here, too exhausted to even make it to the bed, Sabo softly admits that there was nothing he needed to grab from his own room to make it through the next day.
And Ace just. Follows that. Really easily, the ‘why don’t you just move in?’ spills from his lips, because it seems like the correct response to have. It would keep Sabo from worrying about missing something, because everything will be in one place once more. He and Sabo will be in one place, really, wholeheartedly.
There’s not even much left, but the next day, Ace helps Sabo carry the remaining items over. And that was it. Simple. Easy. Natural, even.
Not like this.
Something is wrong. Something is terribly wrong, but Ace is too afraid to ask. He can’t quite put his finger on it, either, and yet he knows. 
It wouldn’t be too far off to say Sabo is scared, but of what Ace isn’t certain. Losing him again? That would explain a lot, but it would only explain the things he could outright see. Sabo clinging to him tightly, unable to let go. Unwilling to be apart, and yet.
All of his belongings remain in his other room. Completely separated. 
Ace has never even seen it, but he knows it has to exist. Sabo is so frantic, so on edge, and Ace thinks, at first, that Sabo is bracing himself. Not willing to give himself the chance to get attached, in case something else happens.
It’s a good theory, but Ace knows, instinctively, that it’s incorrect. There’s another reason, has to be, and he just hasn’t stumbled upon the right pieces to put it together yet.
It’s colder, too. 
Ace can feel it at night, gripping Sabo’s frozen fingers and wishing he had the power to warm them up. His body heat isn’t unnaturally high, though, and that’s all he has. All he can do is cup Sabo’s hands in his own and hope the chill doesn’t spread to him as well. 
And that’s not the only thing that’s missing.
For all the trouble it was worth, Ace can’t help but feel a tinge of regret that their soul bond was no longer. It’s definitely an adjustment. Ace will do something too hard, too rough, and then instinctively look over his shoulder to apologize only to find Sabo hasn’t felt a thing.
But he notices. How Sabo tenses, like he should be feeling a reaction and is lost when he doesn’t. It’s subtle, but Ace starts watching closer so he can see when Sabo acts out of turn. An action that’s too forceful, or a misstep, or something he can get away with while in Ace’s line of sight that should send a twinge of pain coursing through him.
It never does. Sabo always looks so unhappy about it. Like he’s testing their bond, like he wants Ace to have a reaction, to feel what he’s feeling.
Ace doesn’t understand why it matters so much until Sabo starts pulling away. Subtly, at first. Little things Ace shouldn’t notice, but he does. 
[Take 3??]
“You don’t have a soul bond anymore,” Sabo mutters, so distraught and defeated, head drooped low. Ace’s lips open, a counter on his tongue, a reassurance, a promise. Sabo doesn’t give him the chance, continuing, words dripping from his lips like acid. “But I do. It’s still there. It hasn’t gone away. You came back, and still, nothing has changed.” 
He stops to breathe, ragged, in and out. Then his teeth clench and he lifts his head just to the point where he can gaze up at Ace through his bangs. “It’s still broken. It won’t go away. I–” He’s cut off by a sob tearing through his throat, and when he blinks, tears leave his eyes. 
Ace, panicked, crouches down to eye-level. He reaches out, slowly, both hands up, but it doesn’t even matter. Sabo still flinches back violently, eyeing him warily. He realizes his actions right after they happen, biting down on his lip, eyes blown wide. 
A second later, Sabo is out of his chair, collapsed fully in Ace’s outstretched arms, clinging to his form. Ace’s knees drop so he doesn’t overbalance, and he grips tight, drawing Sabo in. 
“It feels so empty,” Sabo confesses, voice warbled from tears that drip down the back of Ace’s neck. “So lonely. You’re right here and yet my heart doesn’t know. It can’t find you, Ace. This doesn’t even feel real right now. 
"And I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to stop feeling like this. And I’m sorry, sorry that I keep pushing you away, but! It’s so much easier than having you in my arms with my soul telling me that you died, that you left and took half of me with you, and the other half is so inconsolable about it. It doesn’t understand, it keeps telling me to find you, to join you again, but I have so much work left to do here. I can’t leave. Not with Dragon dead. Not with you alive, still, because if I die and my soul can’t find you even in the afterlife? It will kill me, Ace, for good. It’s killing me now. And you don’t–”
He chokes and stops, working through a set of shaky, shallow breaths that Ace coaxes him through, running a comforting hand down his back and up again, over and over. 
Ace sits and tugs Sabo down onto his lap, bringing them both into a more comfortable position. 
“I don’t even feel it,” Ace finishes, voice quiet, barely there. “Right? The remains of our soul bond are tearing you apart, and here I am, free from it in death.” That would explain all of Sabo’s peculiarities as of late. He’s been trying to get Ace to feel, like before. Working himself up over it and then falling apart when Ace doesn’t react. He wants their bond back so bad that he’s been so reckless, and Ace didn’t even notice.
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sirendeepity · 1 year ago
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For the fanfic writer ask game:
♥️👻📗
Nikiiiii, my love, it's so good to see you here! <333
❤️ What is your favorite line that you’ve written in a fic?
So, this one's tough. Not because I have the hands of Midas, but because I simply... Have no idea? I did skim through metanoia, though, because if that's where the good stuff is, and I found a few because I'm physically unable to choose just one I really liked, two of which are quote quotes
“I gave him the power he thinks he has now, and by not agreeing on meeting with him we’re just proving his point: that he has something, that he’s worth something. I’d rather die than give him the satisfaction.”
That night was not for deep, belly laughs. That night was for healing what others had broken. To build anew.
while the third is more of a context quote
What caught her attention the most, tho, had been the fact that Rhysand had been ready to put so much of himself, of what he’d been through, at stake. For her. Nesta shifted in her seat, not stomaching the starlight violet any longer. She felt Night caressing her mental shields, purring, asking to get in. She let it. You’re worth the risks. She turned, the bones in her neck cracking with the fast motion, and stared speechless at Rhysand. She’d let him in her mind, yet the voice wasn’t there. He’d said those words out loud, had made sure the stars heard them too.
👻 What is your wildest headcanon?
I answered this one here, bUT I'll give you another one, which is also a spoiler for a possible future multi-chapter fanfic I've been thinking about for a while and recently I'm entertaining the idea of actually try to write it? We'll see. Anyway I have this idea that the Valkyries (well, Nesta, at least, since she's the one who's part of the Inner Circle) will "give up" their citizenship? And they're not members of the Night Court anymore? Or they're just a private citizen like any other? I still have to think this trough, but they're going to do all that because they are going to tour around Prythian to recruit and train more females and officially revive The Valkyries, and make them an army for the people: basically, there will be a base in every Court and legions/battalions for each, but overall they don't belong to a single Court but rather all of them, but really, if you think about it, none at all. They're like an independent army, the "neutral party" which will not stay so neutral if things get dirty. They'll stand for equality and freedom, they'll protect the innocents, and by not "legally" belonging to any Court they won't have a High Lord or High Lady that can order them around and such, so they'll be like an Eight Court of sorts without really being a Court at all. Does this make sense?
📗 Do you want to write something outside of fanfiction? If so, what about?
Oh bestie I'm so happy you asked this because y e s. Yes. Yes, I do. And I am completely cool about it. Not acting weird at all.
I'm almost done with the first draft of this personal project of mine that I've been working on and off for the past ..year..s? But I keep procrastinating so I've been "-10 chapters!!" for the past week, but still. To keep things sweet and short, I'll make you a list, because we love lists on this blog:
Crown of Thorns (4): (high?) fantasy; reluctant found family where each and every one of them is "in it" for their own personal gaining, but what started as a shallow "they took my crown from me so now I'll take it back because I can? and because I'm petty and hold grudges" will turn into "I have to stop the Lord of Darkness from coming back from the dead and destroy the world as we know it, and maybe start a revolution while I'm at it". It's messy, and sometimes I think I won't be able to pull this off the way I intended to (good intentions, bad delivery, you know?) so don't ask me to tell you more than this because I really don't know how without spoiling the entire thing;
Cursed Goddes/Blessed God (2): CoT spin-off that is actually a prequel and kind of explains/shows the events that led society to become the way it is in CoT and yes, I really did dig my own grave with this whole series, but now I'm in too deep to stop so down we go;
Kill Your Darlings (1): dark academia-ish, paranormal vibes and a hint of mystery, too? Think House of Anubis, but everyone is gay and mentally ill. That's it, that's the plot.
The Haven Island series (3): contemporary romance, interconnected standalones following a group of friends navigating life in their 20s, where every story is meant to represent a different aspect of girlhood/womanhood (aka toxic/abusive relationships, motherhood, sexism and mysoginy, etc.)
I'd also like to write something in the dystopian sub-genre, because who doesn't love that feeling of impending and unavoidable doom? But I have absolutely nothing in my hands if not some sort of relationship dynamics that for the sake of logic and coherency I had to cut out from the CoT plot, so, yeah, we're really basing it all on vibes at this point
Ask me a question!
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dwsavideos · 2 years ago
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have u seen the sing street movie? i loved it and i was reluctant about the musical bc there’s some stuff about the movie that i love that ik wouldn’t translate to stage so im wondering how they compare👀
Just to warn you, I’m answering this in a very long and specific way because I can talk about Sing Street forever (could probably write a thesis on it tbh) so I hope you don’t mind the long answer. It’s a really great question! I have seen the Sing Street movie several times and I love it. Also having seen the stage version in Boston, I can confidently say that though most of the movie translates to the stage version, they are pretty different in a lot of ways, and not just the staging. Here’s my observations:
When you say “stuff about the movie that you love but know wouldn’t translate to the stage” I don’t know if you mean that in a staging way or if you mean specific characteristics or scenes. (I think I know what you’re talking about but that’s a spoiler lol) BUT without spoiling any of the major plot, I can say that in the movie, there’s characters swimming, characters on boats, characters driving/sitting in a car, riding bikes, a motorcycle at one point and none of that is in the stage version obviously because those are very hard things to stage in any musical or play.
That being said, the stage version deviates from the movie at times but the whole storyline and main character arcs are the same. The only thing that’s a bit different is a few scenes, some of the band characters, and songs that are new like Dream For You, Faith of Our Fathers, Up Reprise, and a few 80s songs that aren’t in the movie. The biggest difference (that’s not a spoiler) is that there is no school dance at the end. With a cast of 15 people, 4 of those people being the adult characters, a school dance scene would’ve been tricky to try to stage.
Also I have to say the musical touches on a lot of darker themes while the movie definitely has it’s sad moments, but is overall lighthearted. The stage version is very funny but gets heavy, and that content is treated and performed with lots of respect. Also there was a trigger warning insert in the playbill and on the website when you buy tickets. Adding those heavy scenarios can be hit or miss depending on how the characters cope or how it relates to the plot. (i.e: Do the scenarios help develop character/drive the story forward/give the audience context?) Adding those heavy themes just for the hell of it is bad writing and an unhealthy habit for writers to have. But these themes definitely relate to the plot and characters and drive the story forward along with helping character development. (Some of these themes were hinted at in the movie but never shown/barely mentioned).
The ending of the movie is something that the creator (John Carney) wished he could change, and I think he made the perfect tweaks to it in the stage version. If you’ve watched the movie, you know that the ending has no closure at all. The musical fixes that and it’s a bit more satisfying as an audience member to have closure at the end, especially when the show has as many depressing moments as this one.
Overall, there’s definitely no drastic deviations from the movie, but the stage version is definitely not a carbon copy of the film. For lack of better wording, I’d say the stage version is just more “theatrical.” It’s beautiful just like the movie and I’d recommend it to anyone as soon as it’s staged again, whether it be in Boston, on Broadway, Tour, or West End. I don’t blame you for your reluctance though, there’s always a bit of fear when a favorite movie gets a stage adaptation.
EDIT: I know Sing Street (musical) isn’t being staged anywhere atm but if you’re reading this and wanna learn more about it, listen to the OBCR, watch videos of the precious and talented OBC on YouTube, read reviews from NYTW, join the fandom and get to know the show because it’s amazing and deserves all the love!!
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amplifyme · 1 year ago
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Episode time!
A Gentle Rain-- I liked this episode, too; and it's interesting that I didn't want (forgot his name) to not be turned in (at first) while ALSO wanting him to accept responsibility and pay his dues. His self-inflicted "punishment" was really the voice of "conscience", and his The Scarlet Letter routine (though it was perfectly understandable to a degree) got staler and staler the more he retreated into cowardice. His wife's decisions and rationalizations were a great touch. I admired the line Cathy walked this episode, because it would be so easy to let the case grow cold or be closed off to the mother's avenging attitude simply because she valued her family Below. The "I'm sorry" scene was excellent, as was Vincent's speech that broke through (forgot his name)'s denial.
The Outside-- Stressed, stressed, stressed. Long time since an episode has brought that out in me. (As an aside, the man who sent down the wheelbarrow of flowers reminded me glaringly of Mr. Chuckle Teeth from the Revival, though I've only seen the character through screenshots floating around here. Love him regardless.) The children playing heavily into the plot (not subtle for Vincent/Cathy, getting cut, almost getting killed, getting traumatized from seeing Randal's body, etc.) was an excellent, excellent idea. Mary getting more screentime, her and Father's rash and unwise (though heartfelt) decision almost got them killed (by a group that loves to play games through terror even more than killing in cold blood) her reluctance to leave, and her plan of action juxtaposed brilliantly to William's pragmatic boldness, willingness to stamp out evil even if it involved violence, and continual push of her and Father's more safety-oriented perspective. Vincent throughout this entire episode... wow. And even Cathy-- it wasn't really her fault this time around so much as Father's for forgetting about her (because of everything on his mind but also his other, more urgent priorities-- interesting dynamic); and though it went against Vincent's wishes, there was nothing else for her to do, really. Being chased down the hallway, shooting, getting caught and threatened, calling Vincent back, and trying to stop the child with her gun (a fitting parallel-- another part of her that contributed to his "downfall") was magnificent. The Outside left me with so many unclear thoughts and even more material for rumination. But here's one: they were all wrong and right-- Father and Mary heart to help was right but wrong for their community's rules (and neither response is wrong, only the context); William was right in his protective instinct but wrong to expect Vincent to be their weapon (though he hadn't meant to strip his friend of humanity); Cathy was wrong to push Vincent's mandate not to get involved but right to help when Father directly asked for her participation (BEHIND Vincent's back-- another fascinating touch); Vincent is right that bloodthirst is a part of him but wrong to assume it taints the whole of himself; etc. etc. Love any and all thoughts I might have missed (what was discussed when this aired, or after; what a lot of Classics miss in this ep.; what I might have missed, etc.) All of the scenes were brilliant, and everything haunting.
Another meaty one to sink my teeth into. See below...
Oh, I'm glad you liked A Gentle Rain! I wish we'd gotten to see more of Kanin and Livvy in later episodes. Livvy does show up again a few times, but Kanin continues on only in fanfic. I remember reading an interview with Shelly Moore and Linda Campanelli (the writers) where they spoke about how tough it was to sell this story in the writer's room. Apparently none of the male writers found it believable that a mother might still be so deeply affected by her child's death 16 years later. 😲 I'm very glad they were able to persuade the rest of the room to give this one a shot.
On to darker things...
I had to laugh at your comparison of Long, the grocer, to Mr. Chuckle Teeth. Now I'll never watch that scene again without thinking that!
Nothing much to add to the first part of your musings on The Outsiders. As an aside, Paramount Plus screwed up with the incomplete title on this one. That's important because the title doesn't refer just to the outsiders who invade the tunnel community but also to the one member of that community who is also in many ways an outsider.
And even Cathy-- it wasn't really her fault this time around so much as Father's for forgetting about her (because of everything on his mind but also his other, more urgent priorities-- interesting dynamic); and though it went against Vincent's wishes, there was nothing else for her to do, really.
A couple things here. Father doesn't forget about Cathy. If you'll remember, he asked Cathy to meet Pascal and a group of children to escort the kids to a helper uptop. Pascal never makes it to the meeting because his group is ambushed on the way there. That's when Matthew and Simon are killed by the outsiders and Vincent kills the small group who attacked them (marking the first time we see him kill a woman, by the way).
And I strongly disagree with you about Cathy's decision to venture below. There was absolutely something else she could have done instead. She could have done as Vincent asked and stayed away. These lines are so, so important to the arc of Vincent's storyline going forward. It's not always brought up in future episodes, but the seed of his downward spiral starts here, I think. From the scene on Cathy's balcony:
C: Well then, let me try to help. V: No! You must stay away from it. C: That world, those tunnels, are part of my life too. And so are you! V: And if the worst should happen, you must not be anywhere near. C: If the worst happens, I want to be by your side. With you. V: No. Not like that. Not ever again.
Three times he tells her to stay away, because he already knows how this is going to end. He knows he'll end up killing at least some of the outsiders and he doesn't want her there when it happens.
Not like that, he says to her. Not ever again. Translation: I don't want you there when I kill. I don't want you to witness that. I can't continue to be burdened by the visceral emotions I always feel in you when I've killed in your protection, and with you so close. With you invariably throwing yourself at me in the immediate aftermath of my killings, when everything within me is nothing but beast and everything within you is exaltation at my protection of you, and your love for me at its strongest and most primal. I don't want to be that for you anymore. I don't want to feel that in you anymore - not from my killings. To steal another of Vincent's lines from A Happy Life that fits here as well: "It mocks our dream."
It's important to remember that Vincent draws a very distinct line in his own mind about what is acceptable when it comes to protection of the tunnel community and their world as opposed to the killing he's forced to do Above, in Catherine's world. His posture and the way he holds himself, even the way he kills, is vastly different from when he dispatches the first group of outsiders without Cathy there, to when she is the one in danger and right there with him. And Cathy seems to finally understand why he didn't want her there when she watches him go absolutely ape-shit on the group at the end. She tells him, "No, stop!" Too little, too late, Cathy.
Vincent is right that bloodthirst is a part of him but wrong to assume it taints the whole of himself; etc. etc.
I'm not so sure I agree with that. I think his assumption is correct. What he does when he loses himself in protection of Cathy does taint him.
V: How can you even look at me? C: Because I know you… I know who you are. V: You don't know me. C: Vincent… There are dark places in all of us. V: But part of me feeds in that darkness and I am lost in it.
He's right. He's not exaggerating. He can very pragmatically dispose of any threat to his world and his family, but when it's for Cathy, it's a whole different set of emotions and needs. And Vincent knows as long as that's true, he can never have the kind of life, be the kind of man, he wants to be with her.
As far as reactions... Vincent fans tended to view this ep as a deeper look at him and his dichotomies, while fans of the romance part of the story didn't like it because of the level of violence, and didn't seem to understand the ramifications.
Okay, that exhausted me. I need a nap now. Enjoy Orphans, it's a well-needed respite. It's also deeply sad though, too, for both Vincent and Cathy.
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organist-der-traumorgel · 30 days ago
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None of this is helped by Bruce's reluctance to use words, because that is how they all learned batspeak. After the death of his parents Bruce had a long non-verbal phase where he communicated solely through body language. Alfred, with his background in the military and in theater, learns to understand Bruce and starts mirroring him to ease communication. While B restarted using words a few years later, he and Alfred still mostly default to a complicated collection of grunts, head tilts, micro expressions and posture to talk to each other.
When Dick came into the family, he already had lots of experience talking to people with whom he doesn't share a language through gesturing and adapts before Bruce and Alfred can meaningfully change their behaviour. Jason learned to quickly read people for signs of both compassion and aggression and is quickly able to extrapolate. Tim spend many hours analysing the non-verbal communication of the bats, long before he became part of the bat family. Damian was taught to read and analyse people in the LOA. Cass is incredibly glad thatv her new family is able to conciously speak her native language. Babs and Steph figure most of it out on their own and get told/taucht the rest by those who are part of the household.
Everyone has their own dialect of batspeak, and everyone has learned to mirror everybody elses dialects. This way they are in constant communication, even the verbose supplement every conversation, argument and fight with 5 additional layers of meaning through their body language, facial expressions, tone and pitch.
During an argument during the process of reintegrating Jason, that stays strictly idealogical verbally:
Jason: declares he is too disconnected from the family to ever return, that bond is irrevocably broken by switching to full Gotham Alley slang with a pronounced arabic accent (specifically the dialect spoken in Nanda Parbat), drawling a word the exact way Jon Chill did, tilting his head 41° degrees with is bat for "my patience with you is running out and I will get violent if you push me on this" (normally used to coordinate monolugue interruptions among each other) and shifting his stance to draw attention to his guns
Dick: adjusts his shoulders to the way Bruce typically carries himself, that Jason has taken to mirroring ever since he bulked up enough to share B's physique, back when none of them even knew he was back alive, talks in the weird mix of bristol and alley Gotham Bruce still talks in ever since his kids started influincing his speech patterns, shifts his stance to the side in a way that leaves him open from the side unless he has a trusted fighting partner protecting his flank (simultaneously daring Jason to use this opportunity to attack and invinting him back in), fixes his face into the expression of brotherly affection Damian expresses when he talks about his big brother from the league and changes his arms into a guard that Jason taught Tim. - *that's bullshit and you know it*
This entire exchange was mutually understood and took a total of 4 seconds.
Combine this with the the amount insider knowledge they reference when talking to each other, the many languages all of them speak, mix and switch between, and the assumtion of stalking providing never given context and background knowledge, and any inter-bat conversation is neigh incomprehensible to an outsider.
And because Bruce shows the majority of his feelings when raising them in batspeak, the kids too have an easier time talking about their emotions in bat. This means that they only say their anger, because fear, worry, pride, approval, gratefulness, love, apologies, regret, etc. are expressed in bat.
Another weird love language: non-lethal assasination attempts. Foods and drinks spiked with sleeping drugs and mild poisons. Glitter and gas bombs smuggled into one another's possesion. Random attacks and ambushes everywhere. Sabotaged training equiptment.
All of this combined makes their relationships seem extremely unhealthy from an outside perspective.
Any other Gothamite will recognise this as an expression of worry and training: "I care about you, so will help you keep your survival skills sharp. I will make sure you are prepared for any danger you might encounter. I love you." Gotham parents start this with their children as soon as possible. Everyone was so proud of Damian when he understood this, dialed back the attempts on Tim's life and started attacking everyone.
Other Heros have yet to notice the difference and are very worried about how murderous, invasive and emotionally unavailable their teammate's family is and how quick to forgive their bat friends are.
Meanwhile the bats are dealing with a strong sense of isolation, since their teams only understand 10% of what they are communicating (even when they try to speak Outsider) and their signs of care are always misinterpreted.
Love the idea of the batfam all being equally unhinged like Tim calls dick every two days with “why’d you take the cameras I use to stalk you down :(“ Dick is always placing trackers on everyone, Bruce just fucking shows up and watches his kids go about their daily lives, Jason’s got eyes all over the city to ping him if someone matching his families description pops up, Barbra is always listening and watching like love that shit
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frazzledsoul · 27 days ago
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Finished Shameless season 6 last night and here again are my unsolicited thoughts, broken down by character:
Fiona: I was aware of some of the things she did this season because of various clips passed around the Internet, but I thought her behavior might be better in context. Nope. Honestly, I think she's kind of fucked off ever since the Liam incident in season 4 when Lip removed him from her care for an extended period of time and took over her responsibilities. She'll play the "head of the household" card from time to time and issue edicts, but she doesn't follow up on the consequences or try to parent her siblings in any consistent way like she used to. Her behavior towards Debbie was completely out of line: it doesn't matter if she disapproved of Debbie's decisions, she signed up to be her guardian and care for her and that agreement does not have a pregnancy "out" (it also doesn't have a "I want to shack up with a hot guy" out, but she doesn't care, I guess). She should have made Debbie aware how hard this was going to be for her and once it was made clear Debbie was going to keep the baby, make it clear that this baby is HER responsibility and she needs to care and help provide for it and prepare her for what was going to happen. Instead, she screamed at her, tried to physically force her to do what she wants, throws her out of the house, fucks off for the next six months, completely moves out of the house herself, gets aghast that Debbie is dropping out of school and leaving (you literally told her to do that, Fiona: also, you couldn't work, go to school, and take care of kids at 15, how is she going to be able to do it?), and then when Debbie actually had the baby, is upset that Debbie won't trust her or let her help out and is reluctant to attend her wedding. All this shit would have gone a lot easier if Fiona had just accepted what was going to happen a few months in (and made Debbie get a job) and actually guided her through this like she was supposed to. I don't think she understood that Debbie bonded with this baby because she obviously didn't feel the same way about hers, but that's kind of your problem, Fiona, not hers. As far as her own pregnancy goes, I won't comment on that except that she seems to try to bait and taunt Sean about it a certain point to try to get him to judge her and seems borderline proud that she fucked three different guys back to back and got pregnant with a baby of dubious paternity. Girl, you got nothing to brag about here. She's also a terrible girlfriend to Sean and seems to care little about the risks she puts him in with his own kid or that he prioritizes his son above everything else. Everything is about Fiona and her problems, even when she's ignoring most of them. I do think she came around on the Debbie stuff at the end and I felt bad for her that her wedding got ruined, but in general she is not a good partner and should never have agreed to get married again in the first place.
Lip: Lip has mommy issues galore with Helene: he always falls hard for the blonde girls who treat him as disposable, while the brunettes named Mandy who would do literally anything for him he rejects as soon as they want any kind of reciprocation. I've seen people blame various women in his life for why he got kicked out of college: Mandy for getting him into college in the first place, Helene for sleeping with him and not backing away once he had gotten attached, Amanda for getting jealous and exposing them. None of them are responsible here. He didn't really suffer permanently from the Helene incident, but instead was given a new job and plenty of opportunities to move on with girls his own age and he abuses that by drinking excessively and self-destructing. He lashed out and berates Youens not once, not twice, but THREE times and Youens still shows up for him and takes him to rehab. He still thinks he'll scrape by like he grew up doing and becomes a complete asshole when it turns out he can't. I don't feel entirely sorry for him here. He made his own bed.
Ian: I found Ian kind of boring without Mickey and Mandy around as supporting players. I don't find the EMT or Caleb storylines that interesting. I do feel that the way Mickey was more or less rejected by Ian at the beginning of the storyline and talked about afterwards kind of distasteful given how devoted he was to Ian by the end: that doesn't really resolve itself until Mandy shows back up and Ian admits he misses them. I feel it's going to be a long three more seasons until he comes back full time.
Debbie: The fandom more or less believes Debbie is evil for wanting and loving her kid, but I just felt bad for her. Yes, getting pregnant on purpose was a shitty idea, but I don't think Debbie is entitled to zero sympathy or compassion because of the circumstances in which she got pregnant. She's literally abandoned by everyone in her life. Derek and his family desert her. Fiona completely gives up on her when she needs her. I think Lip has the right approach with her (telling her he just cares about her and intervening when Fiona crosses the line) and Ian mostly stays neutral, but they don't help out in any significant way (and honestly, I don't blame them because they didn't sign up to raise her, Fiona did). She has no friends, no baby daddy, no support from her family, and is at one point wandering around the baby store wishing somebody cared about her enough to throw her a baby shower. Yeah, I feel sorry for her because she did not know what she was getting into and no one really tried to help her.
Carl: The evolution of White Boy Carl is a wonder. I think in earlier seasons you see beneath all the sociopathic swagger that Carl really is just a naive little kid who wants to believe in something, and I honestly think the reason he finds a way to become a productive member of society and Lip struggles is because he does have ambition (which Lip doesn't) and when he wants something to happen for himself, he will go after it and apply himself even if he struggles at first.
Kevin/Veronica: At this point, they're pretty much in their own plot thread and not really connected to the Gallaghers, which really doesn't kick off until the end of the season when their throuple era begins. I should be mad that Veronica went and married Svetlana and then cheated, but Kevin gets on board with this so quickly and Veronica doesn't have any real desire to deceive him that I'm not that mad about it. Plus, Svetlana is sexy as hell and I support the three of them being even hotter together
Mandy: I wish I could feel better about this last appearance, but there's something about how emotionally fragile she seems that I can't quite endorse the way she chose to move herself up in the world. I think there's part of her that can't really shed the way in which she grew up and even though she's in an environment where things are mostly better for her, she still resorts to her old way of problem solving. I'm glad she's on her own and has gotten rid of that awful boyfriend and that she's proud that she's moved beyond the neighborhood, and I'd like to imagine that she saves up a decent amount of money from sex work and moves far away and has a nice life for herself not dependent on any shitty man's approval. There's a point where she's leaving the house in her nice clothes and Lip sees her walking out that just seems to tie in with her getting out of the neighborhood while he's sucked back in. As problematic as she could be, she was one of my favorites.
Sean: As I've mentioned before, Fiona was not a great girlfriend. Seems to taunt him about the pregnancy, never seems to really understand that his child is the person he loves more than anyone else, treats his problems as insignificant compared to hers. I feel she was similarly dismissive of Steve in this way towards the end, and Steve was really in the thick of it with taking care of her family. Sean never quite gels with them and it's not clear whether it's because he's a bad match for this situation or he's internally unraveling because he's using drugs. Probably a combination of both and I think he proposed to Fiona as a desperate move to salvage the situation (and resolve her divorce by getting Gus his ring back, which Gus deserved) but ...it was not a good idea for them to get married. Honestly, his instincts were right in the beginning about inviting more chaos into his life and the feud with Frank just proves he was already out of control.
Queenie: The most I've enjoyed Sherilyn Fenn in anything, although I feel I know far more about her than I need to, if you know what I mean. It's so weird to me that AU Sasha/Anna Nardini is Francie's mom in this universe.
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p3chris · 2 years ago
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Mission 35 comes out in anime soon!
*manga spoilers ahead*
If we look from the perspective of Twilight getting worried about the safety of his cover, he does actually have a somewhat logical reason to want to seduce Yor.
[I say somewhat because if Twilight truly wanted to be safe, perhaps the safest option would be to swap out Yor and avoid contact with Yuri completely. But throughout the entire spectacle, Twilight never considers simply changing wives. That says something in itself.]
The ostensible benefit Yor gets from their marriage is camouflage from the SSS. But if Yuri reveals his status, Yor will find that the marriage cover is unnecessary after all - under Yuri's SSS protection, she won't get into trouble for being single.
With that knowledge, Yor can safely quit the marriage and leave Twilight (and his mission) in the lurch.
Of course, we readers know this is still unlikely to occur. Yuri has no intention of outing himself because he is terrified of Yor's potential disapproval, and what Yor truly fears is not actually getting caught by the SSS but her actual profession coming to light. Yor is also becoming reluctant to leave because of Anya and him. But Twilight doesn’t know that. For him, it is clear this arrangement is not secure.
But if Yor was genuinely attached to and happily in love with Loid, she would not go raising any alarms to Yuri. Their romantic involvement would add a layer of protection should the original terms of their marriage agreement fall through.
In this context, the honey trap makes sense.
Except... When Twilight jumps at the chance to honey trap his wife, there is none of the above thought processes shown.
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Despite the manga telling us Twilight mode is engaged, his thoughts are certainly not Twilight thoughts: there is none of his cautious overthinking and risk-benefit assessment, he makes this inexplicable leap from nowhere to the conclusion that he has to perform a honey trap, and he plain forgets what a violent drunk Yor can be.
Which means he is not thinking straight. He does not know what he is doing.
That makes the Twiyor fan in me very happy.
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emberwood-if · 2 years ago
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Ooof I dunno which RO to go for 😩 Who would you recommend? I'll go for whoever you pick
I love that I made the decision difficult for you. I saw this ask right when I was writing with Perry so I choose Perry!
For context (and for any new players/followers):
Want to reiterate that Emberwood can be a romance (if you choose) but I've settled with calling the romance routes more drama, or 'angstmance' because none of these relationships are 100% healthy or pure aha...
Perry: if you like friendly, warm, nice, very 'easy' route in terms of emotion. It's by no means smooth sailing, but Perry is a very open and willing person, and emotionally in-tune with himself.
Route: friends to lovers // daddy issues //personality switch// 'love at first sight' (if you pursue him romantically thats what it he would claim it is) // mentor/mentee relationship (which will make Perry more hesitant) // possible age gap // possible unhealthy attachment
E: I always say E is the most mature route of all of them, mostly because the main obstacle of their route is having to deal with them choosing their job >>> over anything and anyone else. They've also had been very badly burned by love in the past, so they're not eager to be in a relationship.
Route: brokenhearted by ex // lying to them // work over personal life // another mentor/mentee relationship (which is based solely on whether you choose that) // possible age gap
Alex: Alex is emotionally empty, very indifferent and does not see themself ever getting vulnerable. I think they're best for players who like the 'emotional chase.' Most of the route is trying to break down Alex's walls. They are very guarded, so it won't be easy to get them to open up.
Route: indifference to attachment // distrust // has not faced their past and doesn't want to lol // will purposely push MC away by any means necessary
Dani: Angry. Angry. Angry. Dani is very hard to please, rude, brash, abrasive but they have a heart...deep down. They care about others in their own way, and they can be surprisingly witty when they want to be.
Tropes//Themes: rivals to lovers // 'Stay away from me, I will hurt you in the end' vibes // unhealthy emotional...regulation? // morally grey //
F: F is very bright and very easy to talk to, cheerful, fun. Very sweet, I think F is very easy to love, both from a friendship and a romantic stand point. Of course, loving them actually wont be easy
Route: has never experienced love // insecure with themselves // for MC's that are on the older side, this will prove to be another obstacle due to the nature of F's past //
N: N is a hermit, quiet, doesn't speak much and has a lot of anger inside them. You won't talk to them much unless you're on their platonic and/or romantic route lol unfortunately or if you go out of your way to choose choices that are directly interacting with N.
Route: reluctant friend to lovers // never sure whether N will be gone or not // inexperienced with romance // familial issues //
K: While intelligent and very serious, K is like F in the romance aspect. While their route is heavy, it's not as heavy as say, Alex or Dani, but it's up there. But the romance is a lot more straight forward, mostly because K is straight forward.
Route: familial issues // powerful parents // has not faced their past // difficult to open up
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angeli-marco-writes · 4 years ago
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∘◦ ♪ ◦∘ Timothée Chalamet - Concerto ∘◦ ♪ ◦∘
A/N - I wrote and posted this almost a year ago on my Wattpad. My writing has evolved a lot since then, but I’m still proud of this piece, and hope you enjoy it. I do not know Tim, nor do I claim to in any way. This is a work of fiction and entirely my own. 
Warnings - smut. Detailed (but protected and consensual) sex, slight BDSM, overstimulation. Cursing. Legal alcohol consumption and smoking. Also 10k words of sickening fluff though, even the smut is fluffy.
Summary - At a classical music concert, the last person you expect to meet is a young man as charming and suave as Timothée. And the last thing you expected is for him to invite you back to his flat. Turns out music really is food for the soul, and other things...
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IT’S A FRIDAY EVENING IN NEW YORK CITY. The sun is setting behind the towering silhouettes of undulating buildings all across the city, the moon casting shadows all around au contraire to the luminescence of building lights, beaming all around as well as the street lamps, bringing colour and light to people’s faces in the dark.
You’re standing on the pavement outside Symphony Space Concert Hall on the Upper West Side, people watching. Nothing more or less conspicuous, just observing everyone flooding into the hall, though none of them seem to be under 50 years of age. After checking the time, you take your phone out of the pocket attached to your delicate silk jumpsuit you’re wearing for the night, the one reserved for classy parties and sophisticated concerts only (though very handy). You open the email holding your ticket for the evening, a Poulenc appreciation concert, and you show it to the bouncer who grants you entry to the auditorium.
The room looks incredible. Photos of Francis Poulenc, as well as some old parchment sheets of his music spread out delicately over the usually bare walls. The lights create a perfect ambience in the hall for what's sure to be an incredible evening. The red velvet seats are half full, dotted with people at least twice your age, except from one seat near the front where you can see merely a defined jaw and brown curls. On the stage stands two glossy black grand pianos, slotted beside one another with plush velvet stools and their lids propped up, allowing one to see the inner workings of such wonderful instruments. Behind the pianos are seats enough for an entire orchestra, creating a crescent moon shape. A couple of the seats already have instruments atop them, aching for their owners to play beautiful melodies with them. You make your way down to where your seat is, familiar with the layout of the auditorium. You’re on the right hand side of the centre stalls, third row back, but as you arrive, there’s a boy you saw earlier, not much older than yourself.
“Hi, do you mind if I squeeze past?” You ask him, watching his head jolt up from the programme to reveal a mop of beautiful dark brown curls framing his chiselled face, piercing green eyes with flecks of hazel when the light changed direction. You recognise him, an actor, you simply can’t place him.
His look of incredulity melts into a smile. “Sure.” He says, moving his legs so that you can squeeze past and take your reserved seat on his left. He turns to face you, smiling. He’s wearing a crisp navy suit with a pale blue shirt and a matching tie. He looks well presented, and by his nervous and lopsided smile, you guess that he’s rather nervous to be at the concert alone too. “Timothée.” He tells you, holding his hand out.
You return his gesture, smiling right back at him, and tell him your name. “You here alone?” You ask him, turning in your seat to get a better view. He nods.
“Thought I’d be the only under fifty here.” He laughs, “I’m 24 by the way, but I shan’t ask your name since you're a lady.” You can't help but laugh at this, just a little giggle at how sweet he is, but your interaction is cut short as the lights turn down in the auditorium but shine brighter on the stage, and a full orchestra enters the stage, accompanied by their instruments, two pianists and a conductor. Murmurs in the hall settle down to a faint hum while the musicians tune to the sound of the oboe, and then begin to play.
The music is mesmerising, starting with orchestral pieces with faint piano accompaniment, then just a nocturne for piano, split between the two lead pianists. You could listen to it all night, but an interval has to come. As the lights slowly turn back up, you see an infantile smile on Timothée’s face, as though he’s just watched the most excellent thing in the world.
“Come on,” you say to him, smiling sadly while you tap his knee, “let’s get a drink.”
He reluctantly stands up to follow you out of the auditorium and to the small bar area. You order two margarita’s without consulting him, but he seems grateful as you sit beside each other on a high table, people watching once again.
“What's your job then?” He asks you, making small talk.
“I’m a piano major at Juilliard, teaching piano on the side though.” You respond, and he seems really taken aback. His jaw falls a little slack while his eyes bulge a tad.
“Wow, you must be excellent!” You blush a little at his words, elegantly taking a sip from your drink while he eyes you carefully. You feel awkward under his gaze, though flattered nonetheless. He’s gorgeous, and he’s complimenting you and accepting drinks from you, what a night.
“What about you?” You inquire. He's an actor, you know that, but asking means that you may be able to get some more context and maybe it’ll click where you’ve seen him before. He clears his throat, and you can see some older people walking by who pull faces, judging the pair of you, but you brush them off.
“I’m an actor, mainly small films though.” He says, remaining vague. You don’t push much more, realising that he probably likes not being fawned all over for once, so you simply ask of the favourite names he’s had the honour of working alongside, which must be an uncommonly asked question because a light flickers behind his eyes.
“Selena Gomez, Steve Carell, Armie Hammer, Saoirse Ronan, Emma Watson, Robert Pattinson, Maia Mitchell…” He begins to list, but only when he mentions Maia does it click. You aren't huge into films, but you have seen him in a film with Maia Mitchell and Maika Monroe a few years ago.
“Hot summer nights, right? You were in that?” His cheeks turn a magnificent crimson and he bows his head as though embarrassed. He mumbles something along the lines of ‘not my best performance’, but you disagree. “I think you were wonderful, and did you mention Armie Hammer?” He nods again, seeming a little brighter. You take another sip from your drink, and he follows suit, watching your poised movements.
“Call Me By Your Name.” You nod in recognition, you remember watching the film when it first came out and loving the music from it.
“You’re excellent you know, at piano I mean, and the intimate scenes aren’t half bad either, you make them better.” You say with a teasing smirk on your painted lips, making Timothée’s eyes widen again. You chuckle and grasp his hand, dragging him into the auditorium for the second half.
The second half is a whole concerto, Poulenc’s Concerto For Two Pianos And Orchestra. Ten minutes in, Timothée’s hand finds your thigh and seems very comfortable, so comfortable in fact that you don't dare move it. As the concerto flows further on, his hand slides further up your clothed leg and squeezes your upper thigh a little You tense under his touch, infatuation and lust filling every cell and exiting through your pores, just waiting for more passion to fill your body and make you drunk on the feeling.
When finally the concert ends, both of you stand to applaud the musicians for a solid few minutes, and you could swear you see a tear leaving Timothée’s mysterious eyes and rolling down his heavenly made, painfully defined cheekbones. While you clap, you surreptitiously edge closer together, millimetre by millimetre until you’re hip to hip with elbows nudging. Your head comes up to his chin, making you feel a little small, but you’ll feel even smaller once your heels come off. Once the majority of the audience have filed out, you grasp his hand and pull him through the crowds where you stand on the corner of the pavement, only metres from the venue. You’re reluctant to loosen your grip on his slim hand, as he is with yours.
“Cigarette?” He offers, holding a half full box out to you. You half smile and shake your head in refusal.
“I don’t mind if you do though.” You say, meeting his gaze. “I love the taste of smoke when I kiss someone.” You add in a whisper, leaning up on your tiptoes to whisper in his ear. He goes rigid, making you smirk to yourself. This is going to be a good night.
He lights his cigarette and takes slow drag, only looking away to blow the smoke in an opposite direction to you. How respectful, you think, as your stomach fills with butterflies and bubbles with anticipation. He puts it out on top of a bin and throws it away without littering, and just that small and helpful gesture makes you crave his touch, having his fingers trace your sweaty skin and making your body tingle, your back arch with desire and pleasure.
“Wanna get a drink?” You ask, pointing to a nice bar across the road. You’re desperate to sleep with him, but not without pleasantries first. He, however, shakes his head and intricately entwines his fingers with yours.
“I’ll do you one better than a drink.” His smirk sets off a different kind of longing in you, forcing your body to follow him wherever he takes you.
As you walk, he starts conversation, but you’re so breathless from the desperation speed walking that your answers are brief. He asks you why you attended the concert, only to remember that you’re a music student and piano teacher; so in turn, you ask him the same question.
“When I was doing Call Me By Your Name, I had to learn the piano, and while I was learning classical pieces, I kind of just fell in love with classical piano music, I don’t know.”
His nervousness is sweet, making him appear far more humble than anyone of his stature would usually be.
You get to his building after a twenty minute dash in heels, and he pulls you flush against him while entering through the revolving doors, allowing you to lay your weight on him for a moment while you gather your breath. You feel his heartbeat thudding and racing against his ribs, reverberating against your own chest. You turn around to face him and place your hand on his chest.
“Breathe.” You say to him, allowing him to release a long held breathy chuckle. You leave the doors, both laughing, and fervently press the buttons to wait upon a lift. “So,” You then continue, breaking the silence where only your breaths were heard. “Favourite piano piece from the Call Me By Your Name soundtrack?”
“Hallelujah Junction!” You both answer at the same time, just as the lift doors open. You fall into the lift in a fit of giggles, clinging onto each other. You find yourself with your back pressed against the cold metal handle bar in the elevator with Timothée’s face inches away from your own. Your breath mingles together. As soon as he presses the button to his floor, he nudges his nose with your own.
“God, you're so beautiful.” he says seconds before his mouth is pressed hotly against your own, kissing you with an unrivalled passion. Your lips mould and move together like it’s second nature. His one hand holds your waist while both of yours grip his face, feeling a slight stubble.
The lift dings and he drags you out, unlocking his apartment door and leading you inside.
“Welcome to Casa del Timmy.” he says while hugging you from behind, allowing you to get a full view.
His apartment is stunning. Sleek, yet also vintage. Your eyes follow across the perimeter through a door to the left, where he has an office area containing a sleek white desk with a mac and a stack of papers and pens, next to it is a vintage white bookcase stacked as high as possible with novels of all shapes and sizes, and even an indie style rug underneath a colourful modern dining set..
The door next to the office is a kitchen, white countertops with wooden cupboards and a beautiful view of the city out of the window. To the right is a set of glass doors that open onto a small balcony where you can see the whole city, even Manhattan and Brooklyn depending which way you look and how the moon beams down. There’s a closed door right in front of you and through the entry hall and living room which you assume is his bedroom held behind a golden doorknob.
His living room, where you remain standing, holds an array of house plants with a couple of very comfortable looking plush sofas, his TV stand as well as his coffee table look like polished vintage items, refurbished from a flea market maybe, while his book shelf and rug are grand and modern. The best part of all though is a grand piano in an oak wood, matching the wood from his television table, and you become instantly entranced by the instrument that you don’t even notice the velvet stool or the perfectly organised cabinet of music, with a guitar propped up against it.
“Wow.” You breathe. Timothée grips you tighter, trailing kisses across your shoulder and up the side of your neck, inhaling every few seconds to treasure the scent of your perfume. Gardenia, rose champagne, grapefruit, davana; heavenly. You grip his hands with your own, holding them tightly where they’re settled on your tummy. You roll your head against his shoulder to give him better access to kiss you, but he stops abruptly and leads you to the piano stool. He opens the cabinet and pulls out a well loved piece of music.
“I know it’s for two pianos, but let's have some fun.” He says, grinning at you, an infectious smile that you can’t help but return. Hallelujah Junction, first movement. He puts the music out on the piano and takes a seat beside you, your thighs touching and hands overlapping as they begin to glide over the keys.
Playing this piece is second nature to you, allowing you to find your way easily, slipping your fingers between Timothée’s, and the white and black keys. You begin a harmonious melody spanning the whole of the piano, but after only a couple of pages, you realise that its not working as your notes cross over, making it very difficult to play on just one piano. You laugh together, but only for a moment before he is trailing his tongue up your neck, then your lips, and delving inside your mouth. You gasp, moaning into the passionate kiss that he’s giving you, and within seconds you find yourself straddling his lap on the piano stool. You trap his thighs between yours, moving and grinding your hips a little against his to receive more friction where you can feel how needy he is.
Within seconds, he has your legs wrapped around his waist and his teeth on your clavicle. The pleasure makes sounds escape your lips that you didn’t even realise were possible. You knot your ankles as he stands up with one hand around your waist and the other feeling his way around his apartment. After a few funny missteps and close calls of him dropping you while only walking the expanse of his living room, he pins you against his bedroom door, finding your lips again
He gently pokes at your dusty pink bottom lip with his tongue, slipping his tongue back into your mouth, exploring avidly and devouring every taste of you that he can muster. You do the same, but become too infatuated by his taste to put much more passion into it: gin, mint, bergamot and smoke. Smoke, sugar and sin, the most deadly combination of them all, and that's all you can smell on him, making you moan even louder. An erotic moan that makes Timothée twist open the handle to his bedroom door as quickly as is humanly possible.
He as good as throws you onto the bed, but undeniably, it turns you on a lot to see his dominant side this early on into the evening. He doesn't seem like the type to pin you down and boss you around, but as he shuts his bedroom door and delicately takes off his probably very expensive shoes, you can see a glint in his eye, almost as if he’s planning on doing unspeakably pleasurable things to you. Just the thought makes you wetter than before.
As he locks the door and shuts his shoes away, you take a quick look around the room. His bed is nice, comfortable and exquisitely large, like other things you hope. He has a nice colourful throw, vintage looking pillows to match his nightstand, holding only a pillbox, a glass of water, hand sanitiser, and a box of tissues. The simplicity makes you want to laugh, but you restrain yourself. He has a big dresser to match his bedside table with the drawers a little skewwhiff and clothes poking out. His wardrobe is fitted to the wall and by the looks of it, surprisingly neat too. That much cannot be said for his sofa though. A plush, light grey sofa sits on one side of his room just away from the window, and it's covered with clothes. At least he made the bed though, that's more than you can say for most 20-odd year old mans rooms that you’ve been into.
He sheds his blazer and crawls up to where he left you on the bed, needy and craving more. He looks down at you with desperation in his eyes, and you can’t help but to attack his lips, threading one hand in his beautiful dark curls while the other nimbly pulls open his tie and undoes his shirt. You shrug it off his shoulders and run your nails up and down his spine. You feel him shiver beneath his touch while your hands travel all over his body. His shoulders, his biceps, his toned stomach; he’s skinny, but has enough substance to him to be strong and sexy as hell.
“You’ll kill me if you stop.” He whispers, followed by a string of breathy curses. His eyes roll into the back of his head, giving you ample opportunity to grasp his shoulders and slip the pair of you over, pinning him beneath you. His eyes flit all over your face before kissing you again.
“You are so freaking beautiful.” He mumbles between kisses. He slips his hands up to find the zip of your jumpsuit which he slides down crazily fast, only breaking the kiss to shrug it off your shoulders. He just lies in awe, noticing that you don’t have a bra on beneath it. His tongue darts out from between his lips as he examines every undulation of your body, following the swell of your breasts right down to your hips. Your nerves return under his scrutiny, making you want to hide your face, but instead he holds your wrists behind you.
“You never have to cover up,” he says, nothing more or less than genuine love in his eyes, “not for me.”
Despite only meeting him hours ago, you know that you can trust him, so you ungracefully clamber off his lap and lie on your back to shimmy off your burden of a jumpsuit. He practically leaps at the opportunity to worship your body, before him in only your panties. He starts at your ankle, placing feather light kisses all the way from your ankle, up your leg, not minding the slight harshness of your legs, and only stops at your knee joint to switch his lips to his tongue, licking a straight line all the way up your inner thigh, stopping centimetres from where you need him the most. Not through any of this ritual does he break eye contact though. He skips over your panties and only pulls them down a little to trail kisses from your pelvic bone, up past your navel, through the valley of your breasts, and finally back to your lips. He makes you feel things that you could only dream of before meeting him.
“Timothée…” you breathe, hearing his breath hitch in his throat at the way your tongue curls around his name.
You reach between the two of you to his trousers. You undo the belt buckle with ease and push his trousers off his hips and down his thin legs, allowing him to kick them off at the bottom. He seems embarrassed, wearing Y-fronts that make more visible just how much he wants you.
“How about we strip together?” You offer, and Timothée reluctantly nods. He pushes himself off of you and stands up, giving you a hand to stand up as well. He still hasn’t taken his eyes off you since the moment you left the concert hall. “3, 2, 1…”
You both remove your underwear, pushing them down your legs and stepping out of them, only to step closer together so that your chests are flush against one another. He moves his hand up to cup your face, brushing your hair away from your face while tilting your chin up, capturing your lips in a lustful yet also sensual kiss.
He nudges you and your legs hit the bed, making you topple over and break the kiss from a giggle, but he doesn’t seem to mind and only laughs with you, moving your body further onto the mattress. He doesn't go to you again, he just lies beside you and dances his fingers absently down your pubic bone, ghosting circles around your clit.
“Jesus Christ.” You exclaim at the sudden feeling. Timothée kisses your jawline, but adds in between kisses, “Less of that, darling, I’m Jewish.”
You can’t help but laugh at him. You know he’s joking, just trying to mess with you, but as a punishment for laughing, he thrusts two fingers inside you with no warning, making you cry out in a mixture of both pain and overwhelming pleasure.
He pumps his fingers in and out of you, never going deeper than the second knuckle even when you cry out for more. Only when your moans turn to gasps for breath and you’re writhing beneath him does he delve in further and add his thumb to your clit, giving you a more intense orgasm than you’ve ever had before.
You immediately feel blood rushing back to your cheeks, colouring them from embarrassment, but Timothée doesn’t mind. He removes his hand from your core, and makes sure your eyes are fixated on his every movement as he licks his hand clean of all your cum. You’re so turned on that you even reach for his own hand, interlacing all your fingers except for his index one, of which he takes the hint and slips it into your open mouth, allowing your tongue to curl around it, making him groan.
He slips further down the bed and locks his eyes onto yours, you can see different shades of green and hazel in them and a whole world locked behind those beautiful eyes. Slowly, he delves into your heat, licking up everything that his hands missed. His mouth works wonders, sending your mind into a state of mild euphoria. The tip of his nose nudges your clit and you can feel yourself involuntarily gasp, so when Timothée finishes savouring every taste of you that he can get, he harshly bites your sensitive clit for just a moment, stimulating parts of your mind and body that you didn’t know could feel pleasure, let alone pleasure that intense.
He comes back up and kisses your lips, planting his hands in your hair as you kiss him back and get lost in the moment, your tongues dance together in an exploration, an experimentation of passion.
You pull away after a minute or so, gasping for air. Timothée examines your face for a moment, and you find yourself once again losing your thoughts and sanity in his eyes, until you feel the tip of his throbbing cock brush against your bare thigh. You feel bad for how much he’s been neglecting his own levels of desire in order to pleasure you, so you wrap your fingers around the base of his cock. He takes a sharp intake of breath and flutters his eyes closed, his long dark eyelashes twitching alongside his eyelids whenever you grasp harder or pump him.
He’s surprisingly big, causing you to take longer while rubbing your hand up and down his member. Half way down one thrust, you squeeze his cock a little, hearing him whimper a little. The mere sound of him drowns your core in want. You edge your way down the bed and swallow as much of his dick as you can take until his tip hits the back of your throat. He lets out the most sensual guttural groan that you’ve ever heard, his eyes still closed while placing his hand on the back of your head to keep you steady. You bring your head back up to look at him while your tongue swirls his tip, his mouth is parted a little with breathy moans of your name escaping every once in a while, his eyelids switching from being lazily half open to squeezed so tightly shut that they wrinkle a little.
You go back down slowly, inch by inch, hollowing your cheeks. You work your hand in the part of him that won’t fit in your mouth and continue to bob your head up and down. You lick a strip up a vein on the underside of his dick, making him near enough scream your name. With one final bob of your head where you deep throat him, you pull away with plump lips, climbing up his body to straddle his waist. He looks up at you with wide and loving eyes, pulling you down for a sensual kiss.
“Are you clean?” He asks breathlessly, kissing down the hickeys that he’s already littered your skin with.
“Yeah, i got tested after my last break up a few months ago, and I haven’t been with anyone since. Is that because I just…” He nods and you laugh a little, the vibrations from his chuckle rumble throughout your body.
“I did the same, but I’ll still…” You get what he’s saying and climb off him. He flings open the top drawer of his bedside table and after a minute or so of rooting through it he pulls out a condom packet and places it next to his glass of water. You give him a questioning look with your brows knitted together, but Timothée just smiles at you. He slips one slim arm beneath your back and the other under your knee joint before scooping you up and holding you close to his chest.
“Well hey there Timothée.” You say with a chuckle, secretly astonished at how strong he is, because with one arm still holding you, he throws away the decorative pillows and pulls the duvet back, throwing you onto the mattress and leaping on top of you. You smile into his kiss, savouring every second of the feel of his lips pressed hotly against your own, the taste of smoke driving you crazy.
He pulls away and sits up, tearing open the condom packet and grasping his hand sanitiser. He flicks the lid open and squeezes it liberally onto his hands before applying it and rubbing it into yours. “Are you sure?” He asks you, and your urgent kiss to his jawline is followed by a string of fervent reassurances that you are desperate to have him inside you, though you respect that he wants consent and that he wants to be clean. He slips the condom on, his eyes trained on your lips and the way they part from wanting every few seconds. He’s enjoying torturing you and making you wait, the same way that you edged him but denied him orgasm.
He slips the condom on and slowly enters in one smooth stroke. You gasp at the contact, especially how deep he goes with the first thrust, so deep that his pubic bone hits your own. He reaches for the duvet and he pulls it up over his shoulders, covering the pair of you since he can see that you’re shivering a little in the open. He looks for reassurance, but then begins to thrust inside you, holding his weight above you. You can see his biceps tensing while trying to hold his weight up and keep a steady rhythm.
“How about we spice this up?” He suggests, a sly smirk playing on his lips. He cocks an eyebrow, and the sun hits his face at an angelic angle, only making him more beautiful. You nod eagerly to him, only making his smirk grow wider.
“Yes Mr Timothée,” you say, triggering a dominant smirk to relight behind those stunning eyes.
“That's Mr Chalamet to you tonight, Miss.” Words cannot even explain how wet he makes you by saying that, already making your mind want to submit to his every want. You let out a whimper and remove your hands from his hips to lay above your head on the pillows. He joins his fingers around your wrist and proceeds to lay his slender hand flat against your wrists, preventing you from moving.
“Is this okay?” He asks, his movements coming to a halt. You nod and kiss him again. “I’m sorry, what was that?”
He must really enjoy what he’s doing to you. “Yes Mr Chalamet.” You reply, making your eyes as doe like and innocent as possible.
Timothée’s thrusts restart, faster this time. You moan louder, ecstasy filling every inch of your spent body before you’ve even properly begun. His moans are lower, more like groans, all of your name. It sounds heavenly coming from his lips, the way his mouth moves when he says your name just makes it better. His hips hit yours with vigour, adjusting to get a better position where he hits the best spot inside of you.
“There Timothée!” You scream desperately, your back arching on the mattress while your hands fight to break free. Submitting isn’t as easy as you hoped.
“I’m close.” He warns you and frees your wrists, but he doesn’t let your hand go too far. He interlocks his fingers with yours, using one elbow to prop himself up. His thrusts turn sloppy, more fervent, and just as he’s finishing, he digs his thumb into your clit.
Your entire body turns limp, screaming his name in a state of complete euphoria like you’ve never felt before. It travels from your brain to the tips of your fingers, setting a fire in your belly and making your toes curl. Your back arches so far off the bed that your chest becomes pressed against Timothée’s, your breasts moving in time with his breathing. You feel him come to his own climax, silencing his screams by kissing you with more passion than he has before.
You ride out your highs, but the level of pleasure illuminating every nerve ending in your body means that you don’t notice Timothée pulling out and disposing of the condom, you only notice when he flops down beside you on the bed and pulls you closer to his slightly sweaty body. You rest your head on his chest that seems to be glowing in the moonlight from the sheen of sweat. He absently plaits your hair, staring off into the distance. The faint thudding of his heart within his ribs comforts you, it's a little faster than would be normal, making you smile a little.
“How was that?” His hand grips around your shoulder even tighter, pulling you closer to his body. He seems content in simply holding you, maybe he just enjoys cuddling. “Wait, don’t answer that.” He corrects himself, his pupils dilating and his excellent, angelic body going rigid. You chuckle to yourself, drawing circles on his chest with the pad of your forefinger,
“Excellent, Mr Chalamet.” You tease him.
“I wasn’t too rough, was I?” He looks fearful, fretting, it's evident in the sudden sulk of his face, pulling his cheeks and forehead down. You shake your head again, slowly but surely moving your leg to lie over his. Ye inclines his neck to place a gentle kiss to our hairline, and you can feel him smile into it.
“Timothée?”
“Yes beautiful?” Just his simple words make you giggle and blush, such a sweet sentiment from a gorgeous and well meaning man.
“I’m hungry.” You say, feeling slightly embarrassed. He laughs, you feel his body move from it, and he proceeds to pepper your face with the softest and sweetest kisses possible.
“I’ll make us some food, grab any shirt you want and meet me in the kitchen.”
You watch him pull on a pair of grey sweat pants and walk out. His pale hips sway just a little as he walks, and he looks so lanky from where you’re laying on his bed, the covers pulled up around your chest. He kissed your forehead before heading to the kitchen, what kind of a man does that on the first night? He’s a famous actor and the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen, let alone a couple of years above yourself. He really knows how to please a girl, your skin rises in tiny goosebumps of pleasure while a shiver shoots down your spine and leaps across your synapses just at the mere thought of what he did to you, by far the best climax you’ve ever had.
You slowly slide out from under his warm, plush covers that smell just like him, only leaving with severe reluctance that melts away as soon as you shrug on the pale blue button down that he wore for the concert. Only a few hours ago you’d met at a concert for old people, already having a common interest that few your age have, yet he’s so eager about classical piano which is so special to you. You fiddle with the buttons, leaving the top few open in hopes of another round - he is making you an almost-midnight feast after all.
You walk out of his room and pad barefoot across his living room floor, only to have a little grey cat come and rub at your feet. You lean down to tickle behind its ears, hearing it meow, and you continue your way too where Timothée has left the kitchen door open for you. He’s standing over the stove with some ingredients laid out on the spotlessly clean countertops. You smile in spite of yourself, running a hand through your messy hair before wrapping your arms around his torso from behind. You place a couple of kisses to his shoulder blades until he turns around and picks you up in one swift movement, sitting you on the counter so that you meet his height.
“It looks better on you.” He whispers, pulling you closer by your bare thighs to plant a kiss on your lips. He’s making you feel things you’ve never experienced before, you can’t wipe the smile off your face for the first time in a while, and he's making you food in the middle of the night after cuddling you.
Dreamboat.
After watching him cook for a while, you slip out of his kitchen and take a seat at his piano. You run your fingers over the smooth wood, it’s well loved but well kept. Then you take a seat on the stool. You can feel where Timothée sits to play, your smile turning a little sad. There’s so much to him that people won’t see because he’s getting famous, but he’s still a person and that’s something that you’re able to experience first-hand.
Eyes closed, you feel for F and Ab with both of your hands. You press the keys down gently, creating the soft blend of notes that is Clair De Lune. You fall lost in the music in a new way, a new feeling washing you with all of tonight's new sensations and sitting at a piano that is neither your own nor at school, it feels somewhat ethereal.
Your fingers glide all across the keys, black to white, flats to sharps, switching between octaves like its second nature. Your mind dances along with the rhythm, your whole mind, soul and being becoming lost in the symphony that you’re creating, one that you haven’t been able to create for a while, and it’s only thanks to Timothée.
You become so absorbed in playing that you don’t notice him leaving the kitchen to listen. He just stands in the doorway, leaning against it with his head lolled a little to the side, completely mesmerised by your movements, your music, and just everything you are. Only when you play the final notes are you alerted of his presence from the creaking of the floorboards beneath his feet. He walks over to you with purpose, a slight grimace on his perfect lips, but he just hugs you. Timothée just holds you close to his chest, allowing you to entwine your arms around his neck and nuzzle your face in his bare chest.
“Stay the night?” He asks, such a simple request but he truly does seem anxious. You want to be genuine, kind, but it’ll be best to relieve the tension.
“You’re making me a late night post-sex feast and giving me your shirt, of course I’m staying the night.” After a moment of silence, he exhales a laugh and node, brushing a curl or two into his face. “Anyway, your cat likes me too, so it’d be a shame to disappoint the little cutie.”
After only a few minutes, you find yourself back in bed with Timothée. He’s carrying a tray full of food that looks and smells gorgeous, followed by his cat who decides to dance between his legs. He serves you a strangely shaped piece of an odd looking pizza, though it still looks excellent, and it has some perfectly cooked and seasoned vegetables next to it on a white plate.
“What is this?” You ask him as kindly as possible.
“Flammekueche with some vegetables. It’s a French pizza with crème fraiche and bacon. My dad makes it all the time and always gives me some that I just freeze and reheat. I can only make microwave meals and vegetables, so this isn’t bad for me.” The way he explains it makes him so endearing, and even makes the food seem more than enticing. “You’re not allergic to anything are you? Or vegetarian?” You shake your head with a smile, kissing him and thanking him for the meal even though he won’t let you touch it before you sanitise your hands.
You talk the whole while that you eat, learning little things about his favourite books and his family. His favourite book just happens to be Tender is the Night by F. Scott Fitzgerald, a book you both know and love, and Timothee has a Jewish mother, a French father, an older sister, and he grew up in the city. You however are from out of the city with an exceptionally normal family, and your favourite book is Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte. He seems to be growing fond of you, wiping the pizza sauce from your lip, followed by a kiss each time.
He places your plates on the floor as soon as you finish, snatching at the speed of light for some hand sanitiser, lube and another condom. You more than happily oblige with all of his steps and strip off his shirt, kissing the living daylights out of him before he’s even slotted the condom on. He kisses you back with equal fervour nonetheless, exploring your whole mouth with the tip of his tongue. He cautiously adds some lube to the sides of the condom and slips into you while you’re still atop him. You moan at the penetration, arching your body forwards and hereby giving Timothée a full view of your breasts and the way they bounce with his every thrust inside you.
You moan pornographically at his slow and passionate movements upwards and deep inside you, finding your special spot within moments. He settles his hands upon your hips, squeezing them and guiding your every movement. You ride him just the way he wants you to, you can see it in his eyes. He looks at you like a teenage boy would at a naked supermodel, of which you are only naked and most definitely not a supermodel, despite him treating you like one, and Timothée is thankfully older than a teenage boy yearning for sex.
“You look so fucking brilliant.” He tells you, admiring the way that your face contorts with pleasure while taking every inch of him.
You rhythmically grind your hips against him, swirling them occasionally just to hear him cry out. Nothing is a hinderance from you going faster, but this sex isn’t needing to be urgent to be satisfying. He squeezes your hips harder and you decides to move up a little further, bouncing back down on him as he becomes buried to the hilt in your desperate core. You do it again, engulfing him anew and moaning his name continually from the mix of friction and pleasure that’s sending you into another euphoria, but not enough to release again just yet.
Timothée still hasn’t taken his eyes off you, namely your breasts where he’s currently focussed, eyes trained on your hardened nipples - partly from not wearing a shirt and partly from Timothée’s ministrations. He leans up and captures your left nipple in his mouth, sucking and kissing and swirling his tongue around you in the most divine way possible. He moves his hands away from your hips too, allowing you to grind your hips on his in any way that you like. His one hand moves to your other breast, tweaking and pulling at your right peak and sending sensations through your body that you’d never realised could be real before; while his other slips to the rounds of your ass, squeezing delectably.
“Mr Chalamet, p-please,” you find yourself begging, leaning down while still riding him, his torture on your breasts never ceasing, not even when he thrusts his hips up one final time, allowing your core to devour him whole and sending you into your third otherworldly climax of the night.
“Timothée!” You scream, your climax pouring out of you. You feel him come too, and you hear him cry out your name like a blessing.
He doesn’t pressure you, he just waits until you’re able to clamber off him with as minimal pain and exhaustion as possible, though you do whine at the loss of contact as you lie beside him, his arms securely around you and holding you as close to him as possible. It doesn’t matter that you’re both sweaty or spent, it just feels special.
“Look at that, done before 1am.” He chides, cuddling into you. You laugh a little at him, especially his humour, but it is rather remarkable.
“Two rounds, a meal, and a concert. Can’t speak for you, but I’m knackered.” He smiles at you sleepily, passing you the shirt that you wore earlier. You shrug it on and do it up while Timothée puts his joggers back on and draws the curtains, leaving the two of you in dark for the most part. You lie further down, still close to his thin chest, you hear his breathing rattle a little, but it's soothing.
“Night beautiful.” Is the last thing you hear before falling asleep in his arms.
⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰
The only issue about sleeping with Timothée is that you forget it's a Saturday morning, and on Saturdays, you have to work. Your phone alarm starts to go off at 7.15 precisely, which when you’re home, gives you enough chance to get ready for teaching in a calm manner so that you aren’t already angry before teaching little children how to play Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. Today however, that is not the case.
Timothée sleeps through it somehow, but your eyes are shocked wide awake, causing you to leap from the comfort and warmth of his bed and cuddles just to crawl on the floor in search of your phone and where it fell last night. You find it next to his door somehow, and switch the alarm off immediately, propping yourself up against the door to release a long held breath and to watch the sun rise through his windows. He looks so beautiful asleep, his lips parted slightly, soft snores escaping every so often, dark eyebrows furrowed and his mop of curls haphazardly lying around him like a halo. The morning glow makes his cheekbones appear even more defined.
You want to gather your belongings without waking him, get dressed and catch a cab back to your flat, but just as you go to open his door, he stirs.
“Where do you think you’re going beautiful? Come back to bed, I’m keeping you here with me forever.” You know he’s joking, and his words melt your heart and inhibitions a little, but you can’t justify staying
“I have to work, my first student is at 9.30.” You say, walking across to stand beside his bed and brush some hair off his forehead, kissing him and your lips lingering on his sweaty skin a little longer than they probably should have.
“And? I’ll drive you home in time, if you live near Juilliard then I know a shortcut. Just come back.” He's virtually pleading, puppy eyes and quivering lip just to add to the effect, and you simply can’t say no when he looks so perfect. You place your things on the floor by the bed and slip beside him, allowing your eyes to flutter shut just a moment longer.
His finger traces your naked body beneath the shirt, focussing on the bruises he left on your hips and the marks on your neck. Just his touch is enough to take control of your body, to give you goosebumps, to electrify every feeling of love and lust held within.
“Can I use your shower please?” You ask him, and he nods, placing his chin atop your head.
“I’ll take you to my bathroom and then I’ll make you breakfast. Grab whatever clothing you want from my room, but you can’t leave this bed until you agree to dinner with me tonight.”
Your heart rate increases tenfold at his gesture, and you want to take a leap of faith and say yes straight away, but that would be playing your cards too quickly. “We’ll see.” You respond sultrily, making your way to leave, but his strong grip pulls you flush against him with no space to move. You can hear him laughing in your ear.
“Say yes to dinner and then you can leave.” He slips his hands further down your front without losing his grip and decides to toy with your clit as though it’ll get you to talk.
“Y-yes! God, Timothée, of course I’ll go to dinner with you, just don’t stop!” You find it impossible to understand the shockwaves of pleasure pulsating and electrifying your every sense from an action as simple as the pads of his fore and middle fingers twisting and pressing your sensitive clit. It’s so incredible that after the previous night, it feels like overstimulation, and you can’t get enough.
“I’ll never stop.” He murmurs gruffly into your ear, you can hear the hoarseness that smoking causes but god it sounds and tastes so good.
He pulls your body closer and rolls you over. “Hey baby.” You say as calmly as you can, but within seconds you find yourself sitting on his face, half of his stunning bone structure lost beneath you. He delves his tongue into your already dripping heat, licking as far as he can get and only pulling away to kiss and suckle at your clit.
“Let me come Mr Chalamet!” You cry out, and with one final swipe of his tongue around your core and a squeeze of your ass, you let go. Timothée licks you clean while you still chant his name, and he proceeds to pick you up in order to carry you to the bathroom. You settle your heels at the base of his spine, digging in a little, and his arms tense beneath your ass from the manner he carries you. You like being above him, able to trace every line and bit of stubble on his face with your focussed eyes that he stares so deeply into at any given chance.
“Don’t be too long or I’ll be tempted to join you.”
You slowly cross the threshold of the bathroom, winking at him as you close the door. He inaudibly groans, but you can tell from his facial expression and the tension in his joggers that make him look utterly sexy. You slowly unbutton his shirt, reluctant to take it off, but when you step under the warm jet of his shower, that reluctance washes away along with any inhibitions you may have had about Timothée. He’s an angel: clean, respectful, enjoys classical music, has a cat, isn’t a cocky dickhead, and he’s literally the most gorgeous human being that you’ve ever laid eyes on.
You run your fingers through your hair, standing directly beneath his showerhead. The steam clouds your vision, but you can hear Timothée singing while he cooks, Mystery of Love. What a dork, you think, chuckling to yourself while you rinse Tim’s shower gel from your body, and you just know that after this you’ll smell like him, but he smells delectable. As the water hits the most sensitive parts of your body, you remember the previous night. Just the thought of what he did to you makes you crave his touch again.
Through the bathroom window, you can make out the New York traffic that builds every morning, accompanied by the screeching of tires and sirens and car horns. Despite it being a ruckus, it's soothing as you step out the shower and wrap yourself in one of Timothée’s fluffy towels.
“How do you look so sexy when you’re getting out of the shower? God, I can't stress it enough, you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve seen in my life, even without any makeup and with your hair un-styled, just wrapped in my Goddamn towel. You’re gonna be mine, mark my words.” You feel tears come to your eyes at his kind words, watching him purposefully walk from the kitchen and all the way across his apartment just to place his hands on your waist and tell you how beautiful you are. Those words are better than a concerto to you.
Once you’ve finished getting dry in his bedroom, you ferret through his drawers until you pull out a white top with various tie dye patterns across it. It’s cute, very Timothée. You pull it on and it reaches your mid thighs, making it clock in your head just how much of a lanky lad he is. You bundle together your stuff and head out of his room, closing the door behind you and greeting him with a kiss. He sits you at the breakfast bar and serves you a proper cooked breakfast: bacon, scrambled eggs, and pancakes.
“There's ketchup and syrup in the cupboard if you’d like.” He offers, sidling up on the seat beside you, nudging the tip of your nose with his thumb. The smile hasn’t left your face since you met him.
“This is good, you’re an excellent cook.” You tell him, resting your hand on his. His cheeks glow an even brighter red in the cascading morning sunlight, dappled by his blinds, but he looks magnificent despite his embarrassment.
You take out your phone, just to take a picture of the breakfast while it’s still untouched, and of your hand held by Timothée’s, already wearing rings. You notice that he’s already wearing a silver chain too, and a couple of bracelets on the wrist away from your own, which you find unusually attractive.
“I wish you could stay all day.” he whispers, placing his forehead on yours.
“Me too.” you say softly, smiling sadly and caressing his cheek.
You finish your breakfast and make your way to the living room in a strange kind of waltz orchestrated by Timothée. He insists on holding your waist and turning around a little, moving your feet in sync until you yank him down onto the sofa, catching his lips mid sigh which leads to a much more passionate make out session than you anticipated. Once that’s over, he plaits your hair beautifully, explaining how it used to calm his sister down before an audition. By the time he’s finished a very good pair of plaits, you check the time and it’s already 9, time for you to leave with NYC traffic, but Tim won’t let you go.
“Not without a photo.” He insists, but you question his reasons. Who would want a photo of you with wet hair in plaits, an oversized tee-shirt and a bare face? But his answer is too sweet to refuse. “I like taking pictures of beautiful things, and of which, you are the most beautiful.” Your cheeks flush a raging scarlet, and Timothée takes your few moments of silence as the perfect opportunity to take a picture of you, sunlight hitting your face in all the right places, and he takes another for good measure, his hand on your cheek and his lips on yours, a kiss that shuts you up for good.
He takes you down the stairs right to the garage where he keeps his car, and surprisingly, it’s an understated car, not crazily extortionate nor flashy, something which you respect highly. He sits you in the passenger side, making sure to kiss you before closing the door, and he gets in the driver's side. After starting the engine and leaving the parking lot, he lays his palm flat against your thigh and keeps it there the whole drive while you change gears for him. You tell him all about your childhood, your high school, your time in uni while he tells you his life at a performing arts high school and then his life as an actor, he truly fascinates you.
Once he pulls up outside your building, he tries to convince you to let him come in, or at least walk you to your door, but on the grounds of not scaring the life out of your neighbours and students, you say no with a promise to see him later.
“I’m gonna fuck you so hard tonight that you won’t be able to walk.” He says, pulling you in for a final passionate kiss before you step out of the car. He made you wet just before you have to work, you’ll get him back later, but the revenge melts as soon as he leans out the window to blow you a kiss and tell you how stunning you are.
You’re so lost in your trance of Timothée that you don’t notice your first student tapping you on the shoulder and excitedly saying “Was that the Timothée Chalamet?”
You chuckle to yourself, watching him drive off into traffic, all for you. “Yes it was love, yes it was.”
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