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shiklah · 1 month ago

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sinners

part II

{part I}

Castlevania

Alucard x reader

After a few days, she was feeling much better. She was tired of lying in bed, even though Adrian kept her company for a few hours each day. To keep from going mad, she asked him to bring her books, anything he had on hand. By now, she had read through most of the local fauna and flora, a multi-volume collection of poetry, mostly tragic rather than uplifting, and even some excerpts from the Bible.

However, idleness was weighing on her more than the illness, so when the morning seemed warm enough, and the sun was still low, she announced that she was ready to continue her journey. She put on her cloak, which, by the way, she had carefully cleaned during those few days of inactivity.

But he wasn't pleased. He had gotten somewhat used to her presence; she kept him occupied, and he took advantage of that. It was hard for him to admit, but he might have even liked her. He realized that he was once again putting himself at risk, and he wasn't sure if she was worth it. His intuition, which could also be wrong, urged him to give her a chance.

He saw that she was tired of staying in one place, but he appreciated that she followed his instructions. He tried to keep her occupied with conversation, short, casual stories from his life, and he brought her books. He was surprised that she could read; she didn't seem to be of noble birth, but he concluded that being able to read was almost necessary for someone who practiced magic.

He liked listening to her talk about her family. About the books full of spells, poison recipes, antidotes, medicines, and elixirs, passed down through generations. She told him that the women in her family had been teaching magic for generations, trying to help other women who needed it. They supported the poor, those rejected by the church and society. They taught that there was always a way out of any situation, and he couldn't help but think how much she reminded him of his mother. So innocent, with a good heart and an open mind, fighting for those who couldn't fight for themselves.

He behaved as coldly and cautiously as he had the night they met, yet he was completely different. His hair was clean and combed, cascading down to his collarbones. His shirt was washed and smelled of soap, fitting snugly around his shoulders and back. His gaze was still menacing, but not as tired. Back then, she could have sworn he was nobility. The grace with which he carried himself, the way he responded to every question, how his pale, delicate skin bore no marks of hard, peasant labor, and how his well-groomed hair shone in the sunlight. Or perhaps all vampires were like that? Proud, cold, beautiful, and noble.

When he led her to the exit, not as firmly as the first night when he took her to the room, she finally had a chance to take a better look at the castle. It was still frightening, but he too looked different. The disarray was gone. The interior smelled of water, desperation, and herbs, the dust covering every possible object was swept away, and even the crookedly hung paintings had been put back in place.

And then a bold thought crossed her mind. Since she had been in the castle, so much had changed, and she hoped it was thanks to her. She could see how hurt and lonely he was. Maybe they didn’t have to become the best of friends right away, but she could make his days a little better, just as she knew best—through conversation, silly jokes, good food, and simply by being there. After all, no one wanted to be alone forever.

"I know I’m asking a lot," she began as they descended the stone stairs. He stopped in mid-step and looked back at her, sending her a questioning glance. She gripped the banister, but didn’t take her uncertain gaze off him. "Would you let me stay here for the winter?"

Something inside him screamed not to agree to it under any circumstances. He had promised himself that he wouldn’t let anyone deceive him again or offer help without expecting anything in return. But was this help truly without any expectation? He provided her with food and shelter, but he used her presence whenever he could. He didn’t want her to leave, something he couldn’t fully admit to himself.

"Alright then"

***

She loved to cook, and she did it exceptionally well. Almost every evening, she busied herself in the kitchen, preparing dishes from whatever he managed to buy or hunt.

At first, he would bring whatever he could find at the village market, which was several miles away from the castle, or whatever he managed to hunt in the woods—fish, leftover vegetables, grains. And she never once offered even a word of criticism. She could conjure miracles from anything he brought her.

Previously, he hadn't paid much attention to what he ate; he was more concerned with simply surviving. He ate whatever he could find every few days, just enough to not starve. But with her in mind, he started bringing her tastier and more expensive products day by day. He brought rabbits, venison, or wild boar, treated her to wine and mead, and more and more often bought spices. She still never commented on it, but he could see the satisfaction on her face.

“The last time I ate this well was probably at Louis's court,” she said dreamily, washing the sweet words down with even sweeter wine.

They sat at a small kitchen table. The evening was dark and cold, but she had grown tired of the artificial white light, coaxing Adrian to light some candles. He complied without protest, so only the table, their nearly empty plates, two wine goblets, and their relaxed figures were well-lit.

"You liked the aristocracy," he observed, looking at her with amusement. She often spoke of her visits to various European courts. He didn’t feel she was boasting about it; she just considered it an interesting part of her life. And he listened with interest. He hadn’t had the chance to see much in his own life, so her vivid descriptions of nature, people, and their cultures definitely brightened his winter evenings.

“No. I liked their food, the respect they gave me, the colorful fabrics, and the shiny jewelry. But I honestly despise the aristocracy.”

He laughed low, shaking his head in disbelief. She could read, was intelligent despite not being formally educated, and could find her place in any hut, on any court, in any village or town. Her stories were always interesting and funny, full of flair. If it weren't for the fact that she had admitted to being a witch, he would have been sure she worked in a traveling theater. She had so much charisma that after only a few weeks spent together, he couldn’t imagine a day without her company. She seemed to fill the room with her presence, yet she still respected his space. She didn’t invade his comfort zone, didn’t press him for personal details, and didn’t expect confessions. She simply existed, and he was beginning to feel like she existed just for him.

***

Day by day, he showed her more and more. He took her to the library, large and spacious, filled to the brim with books, mostly about magic and herbalism, which didn’t surprise her too much.

He showed her his father's workshop, full of colorful glass, maps, and instruments with names she didn’t know. She didn’t know if every vampire was a witch, but his father seemed to be one. Or maybe it was his mother who practiced magic? She had no idea, didn’t want to ask, and honestly, it shouldn’t have concerned her. What mattered was that Adrian had freely allowed her to settle into that workshop.

So, nearly every day, she spent several hours expanding her magical skills. She wasn’t a sorceress; she couldn’t weave the elements like some mages could. But she could prepare spells and curses, conduct rituals, and celebrate sabbats, which she used to spend with her family.

And he liked to sit in the workshop with her. They would get lost in books, she would tell him about family traditions and herbs, make potions, some more successful than others. He couldn’t take his admiring eyes off her when he saw her joy, enthusiasm, and eagerness to learn, to continue what generations of women before her had passed down. She was so full of life and happiness that he envied her dedication.

***

She saw how, day by day, he was changing a little. More and more often, he greeted her with sweet smiles rather than venomous glares. He let her move freely around the castle, even showing her his modestly furnished room. He gave her books that he knew she would be interested in. He found herbs for her that she could use. He complimented her cooking, her work ethic, and her literary taste. She felt that he was blooming, that he was starting to show her his sweet, sticky, pleasant side, which he had once hidden like the greatest treasure. And she couldn’t help but fall for the man he was becoming.

However, that was one of the secrets she wasn’t going to share with him. He was kind, understanding, non-judgmental. He listened to everything she said and remembered every detail. He was simply a charming man, one she was ready to lose her head for.

“I found an entire book dedicated solely to wormwood,” he began, entering the room—the same one where she had spent her first night in the castle. The fire was crackling merrily, just as it had that night, and the evening was as cold and deadly as it had been, but this time, she wasn’t sitting on the carpet. She was in one of the red chairs. “Are you really interested in it?”

“I’ll let you know once I’ve read it.” She smiled and took the book from his hands. He laughed softly and sat in the chair next to her.

“Will you tell me what happened to your father?”

He instantly turned his horrified gaze to her. However, her eyes were fixed on the family portrait hanging above the fireplace. She knew that little child had to be him—he had the same shiny hair and eyes, so innocent and good. He was cradled in the arms of a woman, dignified but so pleasant to behold. She was beautiful, delicate, rosy-cheeked.

And towering over them was he. A tall, dark figure with red eyes, long nails, and pointed ears. He looked like a demon pulled from the depths of hell, but she wasn’t afraid of him. His expression was calm, filled with all the love he had for his family.

Adrian often spoke of his mother, always in the highest regard. In his stories, he portrayed Lisa as a lover of science and people, an idealist who, even in the last moments of her life, begged for mercy for her captors. Someone inspiring, loving, and compassionate.

He never spoke of his father. She didn’t even know his name, but she realized that it was a sensitive topic for him. A subject that was the source of his despair. She was sure that Adrian had witnessed much cruel death.

“You don’t have to, if you don’t want to.”

“I killed him.”

Silence. Heavy, muffled, gripping his heart, stopping his breath. He shouldn’t trust her, shouldn’t open up to her so naively, shouldn’t expose himself to pain and suffering again.

She leaned forward in the chair, taking his cold, trembling hand in her warm, delicate one. He first looked at their intertwined hands and then into her eyes, where he saw no hatred or disgust. He saw compassion, which was also reflected in the gentle half-smile on her face.

***

When he lay alone in bed at night, without her cheerful personality, her sweet voice chattering in his ear, or the warm smiles she graced him with at every opportunity, he felt most keenly the impact she had on his life.

He loved making her happy, and she didn’t need much for that. He cherished the brief moments when their hands brushed while reaching for the same book, or when she deliberately intertwined her fingers with his while dreamily reminiscing about her late loved ones. He adored it when she complimented his long hair, sometimes absentmindedly running her fingers through it. He couldn’t shake the memories of the moments when she looked deep into his eyes, unable to stop talking about their peculiar color. He gladly took part in all the rituals that meant so much to her. He helped her gather the herbs she spoke of with such passion.

She had become his entire world. He fell asleep thinking only of her, and when he woke, she was the first thing he looked for. He longed to be close to her, to have her entirely for himself, forever, so no one could ever hurt her again or make her feel unwanted, out of place, or unnecessary. He wanted to gather her into his arms, hold her as tightly as possible, and whisper sweet words of comfort in her ear so she could do the same for him. She was the one he waited for, the one he desired. The rest of the world could cease to exist if only she could stay by his side.

But winter was coming to an end, and she spoke more often of leaving. She stocked up supplies, transcribed passages from books, and generally kept herself busy. What else could he do but support her? So he gathered and transcribed alongside her, just to savor her presence for as long as possible.

"The snow is melting, and the days are getting longer," she remarked one evening as they sat down to dinner, as they had grown accustomed to doing. He only nodded slowly, not saying a word. He knew what her words meant. "I’m planning to leave at dawn."

The fork slipped from his hand, clattering loudly onto the plate. He knew she intended to leave, but he hadn’t expected it to be so soon.

"Are you sure you want to leave tomorrow?"

"Would you prefer me to stay longer?"

"Yes."

His straightforwardness, so uncharacteristic of him, caught her off guard. She looked at him in surprise but was far from displeased. It was exactly the response she had hoped for—simple, giving her the reassurance that he wasn’t tired of her presence, but rather the opposite.

"If you leave, I’ll commit the greatest sin I can imagine – letting you disappear from my life."

#fantasywriting #romance #supernatural #vampirefiction #gothicfiction #alucard #alucardcastlevania #darkfantasy #castlevania #fanfiction #castlevaniaxreader #alucardxreader

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hannahbarberra162 · 2 months ago

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hi!!! i wanted to leave another appreciation ask for you!! lately you've been pumping out SO many bangers, between the incredible endings of can't fix a broken heart, crocodiles gambit, your personal oc work and under the microscope plus so many others like how that ive started to name them im realizing the devil works hard but you work HARDER idk what you do for work but i hope you're not over stressing yourself with all this writing!! its so eloquent and the dialogue is so engaging I have no clue how you get these chapters out to us so fast!! i know ive said it a lot but i hope to be able to call myself ur biggest fan haha and i think its always nice to be reminded of how great you are! so i wanna remind you!! i just got done reading the crocodiles gambit and although i adore your yandere fics since you make them so psychological and suspenseful i gotta say i LOVE this one. it's so sweet and tender at times (also freaky which thanks lol 👅) but crocodile is characterized SO well and the reader actually has a fun personality which i love, yet is enough of a blank slate to project onto which i also love. the way you address trauma and wounds also resonates with me so much, it's so so heartwarming to see that and honestly everyone needs someone to care for them in the way you write love 😭❤️ ur writing makes me SICK in the best ways i have to take small breaks and delegate with myself to go over the complexities of each paragraph it's TOO MUCH!!

you also mentioned in my comment on can't fix a broken heart (which i JUST saw bc ao3 didn't give me a notification 😇) that my comments make you feel like a real writer- im so very happy BUT i have one qualm; you ARE a real writer!!! how could you be my favorite writer/author if you aren't a real writer?? makes no sense... so take that! you write, so you're a writer! and you're my favorite one at that! don't downplay your own work- someone out there will always appreciate it, even if you yourself can't all the time (someone being me and so many others- i have no clue how to check tumblr followers since i downloaded the app specifically to follow you on it so if ur follower count isn't in the zillions ill riot)

i hope you're having a great day, week, month and year, thank you for EVERYTHING you do for us and write!! i have a question but im going to leave it in another ask with like... a 1-3 day buffer so i dont feel like im bombarding you haha. thank you so much for interacting with my fangirling over you and thank whoever out there made you a one piece fan (which feel free to tell me how id love to know) because you are the best writer in the fandom

I'm actually gonna cry (I did cry). This is so thoughtful, so kind, so sincere. You can send me as many heartwarming, nice, uplifting messages as you want. You can't see Tumblr followers, and I don't focus on it because of people like you. It doesn't matter to me how many people follow me when there are wonderful people like you who encourage and inspire me. I do have a full time job and other responsibilities but this is my escape and hobby. Thank you so so much Celine. You really don't know how much you impact my heart <3.

Funny enough, you can thank Sanji for making me an OP fan. He really brought me into this whole world - I fell in love with the man and it's been nothing but brainrot ever since. Yandere / dubcon is one of my favorite things to read and write, but I do enjoy a softer fic here and there too. Feel free to send asks / requests! I can't promise they'll be good or timely, but I do think about all of them

Thank you, Celine. I had a hard day IRL and this really made me feel better.

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celestie0 · 11 months ago

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i love that i could understand gojo, yayyy!!! oh my, there are only a few reads that i’m looking forward too; next week’s jjk manga release, kickoff, the recent fic that you’ve teased. yep! thats the list.

i wont spoil which chap it’ll be but im alr so curious how you will receive it dear reader given how deeply youve given his character thought 🫶🏼💕

this makes me so curios, you don’t understand. i’m eager enough to invent a time machine, though idk if ill go back and experience reading kickoff for the first time all over again, or read the next chapters. super confused, i’ll probably experience it for the first time once more and them edge myself for the next releases.

you’re a folklore/evermore girlie too? SAME WOMAN SAME!!! my favourite songs ever are cardigan and august, oh and i very religiously vibe over you’re on your own kid and innocent, what are your favourites?

i actually enjoy the dynamic between gojo and his father so much, it makes me sniffle and giggle all the same. such a good man, papa gojo was 🫶🏻 i hardly ever find myself connecting with any sort of fatherly dynamic in fics unless its kafka’s father, but damn you wrote papa gojo so sweet and heartfelt that i break down :((( i really want more of him! he makes me feel what my own didn’t.

it’s absolutely adorable how much passionate reader is about her career, and it never ceases to amaze me how much dedication she has towards filmmaking, it’s hard to find such passion in today’s fast paced world, only a few can see their dreams to the end. also gojo’s relationship with soccer and how it originated? hands down the most heart-wrenchingly beautiful thing i know of.

they both need each other, and i need my own kickoff gojo, gonna manifest him for myself. (runs to her abracadabra-zoobiee-zoobaa-hoo-haa-room.)

THANK YOU AGAIN SM FOR YOUR WORDS I HAVE SM FUN TALKING AB KICKOFF W YOU omg its got me out here emotionallll. that’s so lovely you write poems my dear i could TELL honestly haha you have such a breathtaking way w words n deliberation

aww love, lots of warm hugs and fuzzies for you!!! your words uplift me so much, they make my entire day, like thank you so much!!!! you’re the sweetest ever ❤️

also im sorry for such late response, i haven’t been doing well the past couple days.

🫶🏼💌

the fact you’re looking forward to my works that much makes my heart feel so full 😭💕 thanks lovely. AND NOT THE TIME MACHINE HAHHA i’m screaminggg ur too flattering skskdjdhdhd

OMG cardigan is one of my absolute favesss pls. i also love exile, betty, tis the damn szn & rwylm. yoyok is sooo good def my fav off midnights ahh. i also adore red album in general i love her acoustic sounds. atw ten min is my FAVE SONG OF HERS. are you excited for tortured poets dept?? 🫣

ouuu im happy you love papa gojo 🥺 i got butterflies when i was writing ab how he met gojo’s mother haha it’s a love story i want so bad 💕 there will def be more of him, mostly in gojo’s last pov chap i’m super excited to explore more of himm. i’m glad you’ve connected w him :”)

plsss you’re so real haha i’m manifesting a kickoff gojo for you (version of him once he’s gotten past his commitment issues tho LOL)🕯️ you deserve ittt.

no worries dear i’m sorry you’re not feeling well still 😭 is it like a fever now? i really hope you feel better!! i’ll be thinking of you

#asks #kickoff

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sleepyivoryrose · 2 years ago

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Tomorrow is the day!

I’m so excited, I hope everything goes well and I am not too stupid to enter the right train. I reeeally hope I can spend a nice holiday with my friend in her surroundings.

Please, god, let this go smoothly and work out well. Don’t let me forget stuff at home that I need or board the wrong train or something. Just...let me have this. Please.

I also talked today to my mother. She confirmed that my parents don’t really talk to me anymore because “they want to give me emotional independence.” How weird that they just cared after we had a gigantic fight at Silvester. Oh well, it doesn’t matter. I’m better off semi-alone anyways.

I wonder why it is so much fun to talk to myself though, and my mothers statement only made me think about it more. Maybe because I have always been a lonely person and going solo? When I came to the country I live in now, I almost didn’t know the language and the kids kept laughing at me for that. I learned almost all of the language I know now from books, television and videogames. That would also explain why I am more comfortable in the fictional world than the real world, i guess?

Well, no use pondering over it now, and pitying myself never solved anything. I should be happy! Tomorrow I get to see my online friend! It’s gonna be great. I hope I don’t annoy her too much with my weirdness. I know I can be a bit annoying at times.

Maybe I can surprise her and invite her to something to eat? After all, she will go through all the trouble to welcome me.

On another note, It’s also the first time I booked a hotel. I’m...not good with new things or changes. It makes me sick to the stomach, as brutal as it may sound. Hope everything works out alright.

Do I have something a bit more uplifting to think about...? Well, it is the big day tomorrow, so I assume it’s only natural that my thoughts spin like a carusel around that.

Oh, right! I went drinking boba-tea today. It’s a new hobby of mine. I always get myself a creme brûlee tea and sit down to watch people, and today also the rain. It’s been pouring these last few days. Anyways, I never manage to eat all the boba though. I don’t know if my technique is wrong or if I’m just clumsy, but I always feel awful to throw half of the boba away, because I can’t drink it properly. How do people do that?

Very yummy though. Totally worth it.

I started with my friend a soulsilver soullocke...we already lost a few of our members to Bugsy. That Scyther sure can pack a punch. Or a slice, considering its arms. I am already scared of Whitney and her mighty Miltank...

Holy shit it is windy today. The traffic lights are swaying, just like the trees. I love wind, it’s like a friend, but when I see how it forces its way through the landscape it does get a bit scary.

(...)

The woman who helps me clean my room (it sounds more boojie than it is, believe me, I’m just chronically ill and need a lot of help) just came by to wish me a good trip tomorrow. That was very nice of her.

I want to do more things by myself, it’s always embarrassing, when other people have to help you with basic stuff that other people manage easily, but...I have problems with my motivation. Sometimes I wonder if I have a slight case of ADHD. Maybe I’m just a lazy bum, who knows. The will is there, just...my body won’t move. I have two wolves in my chest...

Talking about wolves, my friend always teases me that I’m a furry. But liking Kemonomimis isn’t furry, right?! It’s just ears and tails? I still like a human...though, when I think about how Mia x Elk was my first ship...well, I guess low key furry. Ever-so-slightly. Like, you have to use a microscope to see it. A tiny furry hair on my clothes.

Maybe I’m writing too much. But it keeps me relaxed while I wait to the day to end. Damn, it’s still 15:00. I could do something else...

But my heart is jumping out of my chest, and I have shivers. Maybe just a little more...?

In another post, maybe, this one’s long enough.

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even-after-a-millennia · 3 years ago

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So Much in a Word

This fic is to fill the prompt for @yusufalkaysanibingo a different meeting for Joe and Nicky! You can read it below or over on my ao3 account here.

Joe-centric fic with Joe/Nicky | Rated M | ~5.4k words

Yusuf al-Kaysani was fifteen when his future was foretold.

He was in the farmer’s market with his mother, picking up ingredients for a herb mix to help his father’s cough when a hand shot out from between the stalls and clamped down on his arm. He yelped and spun around to face the person who had grabbed him.

The woman’s face was made of wrinkles but her eyes were clear as she stared at him. She sighed, her hand gentling on his arm, her thumb rubbing the soft skin near his elbow.

“Poor boy,” she murmured.

“Are you alright?” Yusuf asked, worried for her and for himself. He could feel the power surrounding the woman. He glanced at his mother, who was watching the exchange with narrowed eyes, though she didn’t step in. She could probably feel the importance of this interaction, her own ability to see moments of change flaring.

“My dear one,” the old woman continued, and Yusuf’s attention snapped back to her, “you will live a life blessed with love. You will find the man who will uplift you and support you no matter the adversity. And you will bring him ruination.”

Yusuf froze, staring at her.

No.

No, it couldn’t be true.

He couldn’t even focus on the fact that he was destined to love a man, something he had suspected of himself for some time, but that he would be the one to ruin him?

Impossible.

The woman’s hand retracted, but he flung a hand out and clung to her fingers.

“Please, please take those words back. I cannot- I will not,” he stuttered, desperate.

“Oh, habibi,” she murmured, her free hand coming up to stroke his cheek. “I know. My gift can be the opposite, and to give such a radiant soul such news is not easy. Remember my words, Yusuf. For you are blessed and cursed and only those words will set you free.”

Yusuf blinked, and she was gone.

“Yusuf?” his mother asked, her dark brown eyes full of concern.

“I’m sorry, Mom. Can I leave you to collect the rest of the ingredients as I go home?” he asked through numb lips.

“Of course, my love. I’ll be back soon,” she said, pushing him homeward.

He walked home in a daze, but the second his foot crossed the threshold of his home, he snapped to attention.

No.

He would not do it.

Not if he could help it.

And he could.

He went to the family’s workroom and found it blessedly empty. Going to the table strewn with ingredients, a pestle and mortar, and more books and pieces of parchment than he could easily count, he began pulling materials towards him, going on instinct alone. He had been practicing magic under his parents’ tutelage since he was a toddler. He had watched his father create tinctures and weave his ability to heal into charms, had seen his mother make decisions before the moment had arrived, her ability to see changes around her allowing her to avert burns and arguments, save money and receive more. But he had not only been taught by them, but also by his teachers at school, learning the basics and, more recently, more advanced techniques of everyday magic that didn’t require a special ability to achieve.

While he might not know his ability yet, he knew enough how to make a talisman. He just hoped it would be enough.

He wove his magic into the strands of the bracelet and put the ingredients he needed into the charm that would hang from it. While he had seen his father chant incantations as he crafted talismans, he couldn’t bring himself to speak, his heart in his throat. All he could do was hope, and say in his head, “Please don’t let me hurt him, please don’t let me hurt him, please don’t let me hurt him,” repeatedly. He knew he was using too much of his magic, darkness starting to creep into the corners of his vision, but he pushed everything that he had into the bracelet.

Even as he faded into the dark, he couldn’t find it in himself to regret his actions.

It was worth it to save him.

His mother returned from the market twenty minutes later to find Yusuf unconscious in the workroom, the completed talisman clutched in his hand.

She sighed, because though she had seen this coming, it was no easier to have her vision actualized. Prying his hand open, she wrapped the bracelet around his wrist and fastened the clasp.

Yusuf stirred, his eyes blearily looking up at his mother. His head flopped to the side and he saw the bracelet around his wrist.

He smiled. It was weak, but it was there, and it broke his mother’s heart.

“I did it,” he whispered triumphantly.

Then he once more fell unconscious.

_________________________________________

Joe was engrossed in his book as the train trundled along the track, rocking him side to side in his seat. He was soothed by the gentle movement, grateful for it’s relaxing motion. Friday’s were his longest day on campus, with three different lectures and office hours, and he was exhausted.

He had never seen himself becoming a professor when he was young. But when he had been prophesied to ruin his soulmate, he threw himself into magical study. There was so much to learn and he wanted to know all of it, in the off chance that something would be able to change his fate. It had turned out that he was a quick learner and that he had a knack with teaching others his findings.

He had a way with words. He could never put his personal power in a better way. Nothing else pinned down the nuances of how he could use words to pin down a point, educate succinctly, highlight how he was feeling.

But no matter how much he thought of the prophecy that changed his life, he couldn’t find a way to change their meaning. To change what would happen should he find his soulmate.

So in the meantime, his talisman rested against his pulse point, reassuring him.

Fifteen-year-old Yusuf hadn’t known what he was doing when he had created it, but apparently, he had done it well. At age thirty-three, he had yet to meet his soulmate. Or more likely, given the charm, he had and would never know it.

That was the charm's ability. It blocked him off from his soulmate. Joe could pass him in the street, their eyes could meet, and they would pass each other as strangers.

It was better that way.

He felt the tug in his chest that sometimes bothered him, letting out an involuntary flinch before he rubbed the area absently as he read on. The pains had become more frequent as time went on, which he chalked up to his body rejecting the effects of the spell upon him. It wasn’t natural to work against his soul’s call, but he would rather deal with random pains than the agony of ruining his soulmate.

“Scusa, are you alright?” a quiet voice asked him.

“Hm?” Joe hummed, pulling himself from his book to look at the man who had addressed him. The man had sandy brown hair and multi-colored eyes Joe couldn’t pinpoint from the distance, with a beauty mark on the right side of his face, near his jawline. He was looking at Joe with concern.

“Are you alright? You seemed pained,” the man said again. He had an accent that Joe thought might come from a romantic language. Perhaps Italian?

Joe blinked, finally focusing. “Oh, apologies. It’s nothing, just a reverb of a spell long ago. Can’t be helped,” he said with a reassuring smile.

The man frowned. “Do you like chocolate?” he asked abruptly.

“Yes?” Joe asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I make foods, infused with health and well wishes, if you would have one. The chocolates are all I have on me at the moment. It could help relieve your pain,” the man said. He started rummaging in his bag.

“That’s sweet of you, but I don’t know how efficient they would be on me. It’s an ongoing issue, you see,” Joe said. In the past, he had tried many ways to help curb the side effects of his talisman, but none had helped. He had gotten to the point when he would be irritated with the person offering a seemingly effective cure for his ills. But for some reason, that irritation wasn’t present now.

How odd.

“Ah. There is nothing that can be done?” the man asked. He didn’t have that pitying look on his face that many did when they heard that, just one that was understanding and somewhat resigned.

“I’m afraid not,” Joe said with a little shrug. “I appreciate the gesture, however. I’m Yusuf, by the way. You can call me Joe, if you like.”

“Nicolò, though many of my colleagues call me Nicky,” the man replied.

“Pleasure to meet you, Nicky,” Joe said, reaching across the aisle to hold out a hand.

Nicky shook it and withdrew.

“Is that book good?” Nicky asked, gesturing to the book Joe had been reading. “I have seen it many times, but not read it myself.”

“I’m enjoying it. The author has a way of immersing the audience into the book, making you forget your surroundings, as you saw. I’ve taken to only reading it when seated. I wonder if that is their ability. They certainly chose the right profession if so!” Joe said with a laugh.

“I’ll have to pick it up the next time I come across it,” Nicky said.

“I would recommend it. So what do you do?” Joe asked.

“I run a remedial bakery and restaurant. There are many who need healing, so I am baking and cooking most of the day to feed those that come to me, as well as sending my goods across the world. There never seems to be enough time,” he finished quietly, almost to himself.

It was then that Joe noticed the dark circles below Nicky’s eyes.

“Hey,” Joe said gently, leaning forward and looking Nicky in the eye. “Every single person you help is one less person who is in pain. There will be more, but don’t discount the work you have done. It is enough.”

He could feel his power flowing through him, and saw Nicky blink.

This time, Nicky put a hand on his chest. He looked down startled. “What- how did you do that?”

“What is that?” Joe asked.

“I… It suddenly feels like it is easier to breathe. How did you do that?”

Joe relaxed. He had been worried that what he’d said had hurt the man. “I just used the right words, I guess. And you seem like the kind of person to carry the hurts of others around with you, long after they are gone. Was I right?”

Nicky regarded him. “Have you eaten?” he asked Joe.

“Not yet,” Joe replied, taking his non-answer as an answer.

“Would you like to eat with me?”

Joe smiled, somewhat relieved that he had not offended Nicky with his observation. “Yes, I would like that.”

He was intrigued by this man, whose heart was pierced by the pain of strangers and whose eyes were the color of a tumultuous ocean. He could enjoy getting to know him more.

Joe was always ready to make new friends.

They ended up at a Thai restaurant that was close to Joe’s place.

Once they were seated, Nicky turned to Joe. “I forgot to ask, what is it you do?”

Joe smiled. “I’m a professor, specializing in the intricacies of magical intent and their outcomes.”

Nicky blinked. Joe was used to that reaction when he said his profession. It wasn’t a common one. In fact, he had been offered so many positions when he had graduated with his doctorate that he had needed to phone his mother for advice on which school to choose.

Having a mother who could see the possibilities of choices had been a blessing throughout the years.

He hadn’t regretted his choice yet.

“I did not know you could get a doctorate in that,” Nicky finally said.

“Well,” Joe said, trying to not appear too proud, but sometimes it was hard to not let himself feel his accomplishments, “before me, no one had. Not precisely, anyways.”

Nicky blinked again. Then his slight frown cleared and he gave Joe a small smile. “That’s very impressive,” he said.

Joe felt himself flush, then cursed at himself for it. He knew it was, but it was different to hear it from Nicky.

Nicky sat forward, his elbows splayed and hands clasped on the table. “Tell me more?” he asked.

Joe felt a little stunned at the request. Usually on the dates he had gone on with people who were fine with casual dating, no soulmates required, they hadn’t been interested in the finer details of what he had spent years, decades at this point of his life, learning and honing.

He cleared his throat, then began. He kept talking even as their food arrived and then spoke between bites. Nicky asked attentive questions, focusing in on details that Joe had glossed over because that would be another ten minute long explanation. Joe kept checking him for signs that he was bored with what Joe was saying, but Nicky was leaning in, nodding along in places, the corner of his mouth quirking when Joe mentioned some of his failed experiments. His eyes rarely left Joe’s face and Joe found himself stuttering more as he described his studies to Nicky than he had since his first year of teaching.

“And after this conversation, you could probably get at least a Master’s in the theory of magical intention and conclusions,” Joe said jokingly as he finished.

Nicky hummed, taking a spoonful of his soup with a pensive look on his face. “I think that I could use some of those principles in my cooking and baking, to expedite the process. You may have just saved me a lot of effort with that talk, professor,” he said with a smile.

Joe smiled back, trying to cover how flustered he felt. “Of that, I’m glad.”

They finished eating soon after and Nicky insisted on taking the check. “I need to pay you for your lecture somehow, sì?” he asked.

Joe laughed. “I’ll allow it.”

They walked outside, pulling their jackets closer as a cold wind blew down the street. Joe saw Nicky shiver and found himself asking before he had really thought it through, “Would you like to come back to mine for a cup of coffee? It’ll warm us up and we could continue talking.”

Nicky looked at Joe and he felt like he was being scrutinized. This man’s full attention was a powerful thing in itself, let alone his strong shoulders and angular jaw.

He suddenly felt awkward for asking. There were certain protocols for interacting with other people that were usually based around how much someone cared about saving themselves for their soulmate or not. There were those who wouldn’t be in a relationship until they felt that connection, the spark of their soul connecting with another. There were others who didn’t care to wait and didn’t. And then there was Joe. Who was deliberately avoiding his soulmate.

But no one but his parents knew what the charm on his wrist was for, so he usually was put into the second category by people who met him. Which was fair, he’d had casual relationships and flings with people before.

He wasn’t really asking for anything from Nicky here, though. He didn’t know how to say that without it becoming more awkward.

“I could drink some coffee,” Nicky said finally.

Joe relaxed.

They walked the blocks to Joe’s small house side by side, their shoulders knocking together here and there. Their surroundings changed from the small stores and restaurants to a residential area. They continued on until finally Joe stopped at a wooden gate.

“This one is mine,” he said softly.

He didn’t know why, but he wanted Nicky to like his home.

Joe watched as Nicky looked at the small house with its garden overflowing with plants for ingredients and random nick nacks that he couldn’t help but buy. The house itself wasn’t big, only one story, with sand colored stone siding. There were stained glass pieces hanging in the window, catching the rays of the sunset.

“Oh, Joe,” Nicky breathed, looking at it all. “It’s wonderful.”

Joe felt that same embarrassed pride from before. He knew that, he did, but it was just. Different. Hearing it from Nicky.

Joe waved his hand, unlocking the wards protecting his house, and opened the gate. “Come on in.”

Nicky stepped through behind Joe and followed him up the path, stopping to look at the windchimes hanging from the roof. Pieces of sea glass sparkled in the glow of the sun and the chimes rang as another cold breeze rustled past them.

Joe opened his front door and Sable’s black face and yellow-green eyes met him before she ran to her scratching post and began to claw at it to show her joy he was home.

Then his cat saw there was company and froze, then lowered herself to the floor.

“It’s okay, little one. This is Nicky,” Joe said, taking off his shoes and gesturing to his companion. “He’s a friend.”

Sable wasn’t convinced and scooted across the room towards his bedroom.

Joe turned to Nicky. “Sorry about that. She has a hard time with newcomers.”

Nicky shrugged. “I won’t take it personally. I am in her space, after all.”

Joe smiled at him. Not everyone handled Sable’s aversion to people as well, and Joe appreciated it.

The coat rack took their jackets and they stood there a moment, Nicky looking around Joe’s home. Joe didn’t adhere to any particular style, unless comfortable counted. His couch was overstuffed, with colorful pillows adorning it and soft blankets draped over the back for quick use. He had many pieces of art hung on the wall, some of which he had done himself. His desk in the corner of the room was cluttered at best and disorganized at worst. But altogether, it was his home.

“Alright, coffee,” he said once Nicky had looked his fill. The hallways had more art, as well as pictures of family and friends, hung on the wall. Nicky looked at them but didn’t stop as they made their way to the kitchen.

Joe reached into a cabinet and pulled out his Moka pot. Nicky grinned at him.

“Why do I feel like I just passed some test?” Joe joked.

“You did,” Nicky replied, his eyes sparkling. “Top marks, professor.”

Joe gestured to one of the chairs, which pulled itself away from the table. He was glad of the fact he had to turn his back to Nicky to get the coffee going. His face felt very warm. “Please, make yourself at home.”

“Thank you,” Nicky said as he sat. “I wanted to ask, what was your pull to learn more of magical intention? It seems like such a niche subject, based on what you told me. There must be a reason.”

Staring at the brewing coffee, Joe contemplated whether it was worth telling Nicky. He kept the prophecy to himself. Not even his friends knew the truth behind why he hadn’t found his soulmate yet. And yet, he found himself opening his mouth.

“Do you remember that spell I said had repercussions to this day?” Joe asked.

“Sì.”

“When I was fifteen,” Joe said, keeping his eyes on the pot, “it was foretold that I would be blessed with love. And I have been. My parents have been wonderful and supportive throughout my entire life. I have many friends who lighten my days, colleagues who make me feel valued, and students who appreciate my work to educate them.”

He sighed.

“I was prophesied to have a soulmate who would be with me through adversity and uplift me through life. And I would bring him ruination,” he said, his voice going flat and cold at the last sentence.

The house rumbled around them, the floorboards creaking and the windchime growing louder as it shifted more violently.

Joe took a deep breath and let it out and as he did so, the house settled. It had accepted him as its owner and was therefore connected to him. When feeling a strong emotion, he could expect some kind of reaction from the house.

Pouring the finished coffee, he brought the cups to the table and set one before Nicky, not looking at him.

“I went home and created a talisman. I was fifteen, knowledgeable but not enough. But I had belief. And desperation. So I poured everything I had into creating it, so that I may never hurt him.” He took a sip of his coffee, much too soon, and grimaced as it burnt his tongue.

His free hand was clenched with nerves. Lifting his fist, he showed Nicky his adorned wrist. “So far, it’s worked.”

Finally, he lifted his head to look at Nicky.

And met eyes filled with tears.

“Joe… you are a very kind man,” Nicky said, his voice rough.

Joe snorted. “It was a no win situation. I did what I could.”

“No,” Nicky said, reaching out and placing a hand over Joe’s as it held his cup. “You succeeded. At great personal cost. I assume there were aftereffects?”

Joe hummed in affirmation. “Random chest pains. More frequent as time goes on.” He smiled grimly, his eyes tearing up. “I think my heart is rejecting being blinded from its companion. I don’t know how much longer-” He cut off, already saying too much. He hadn’t even told his parents what he had just revealed to Nicky.

He had known that there would be repercussions to cutting himself off from his soulmate.

He just hadn’t known at the age of fifteen that he would be slowly killing himself.

“Oh, Joe.” Nicky stood, and stepped closely to him. “Can I hold you?” he asked hesitantly.

At Joe’s nod, Nicky’s arms came around his shoulders and neck, cocooning him. Joe wrapped his arms around Nicky’s stomach and buried his face into his chest. Letting out a shaky breath, Joe felt a lot of the stress from this damning secret leak out of him as he melted into Nicky’s embrace.

Nicky pressed his cheek into the curls on the top of Joe’s head, then tilted his head up so they could look at each other. “I can help. Maybe my ability could mitigate the effects. Give you more time.”

Joe considered. He had surrendered himself to the inevitable, he realized as hope bloomed in his chest. He could have more time.

“I… I would like to try,” he said.

Nicky smiled, a small and fragile thing. But Joe found himself answering it with a smile of his own.

He hadn’t felt as safe as he did, protected from the world by Nicky’s arms and body, in a very long time. Probably since he was fifteen, moments before being grabbed in that marketplace.

Yes, they barely knew each other. But Joe felt a connection to this man, unlike anything that he had felt before. And Joe had just laid out his ultimate truth before Nicky and he had met it unflinchingly. Not only that, but he wanted to help.

As their smiles faded, neither of them looked away. Nicky’s arms released Joe until his hands were cradling the back of Joe’s neck. Slowly, Joe rose, his hands lowering from Nicky’s back to his hips.

He leaned in and whispered, “Is this okay?”

“That depends,” Nicky said, and Joe could feel his breath against his lips. “What is this?”

Joe thought. “Connection?” he said finally.

“Ah. Well, then yes. It is okay,” Nicky murmured, pulling Joe in with the hands on his neck.

Joe’s eyes slid shut the moment that their lips connected.

At first, it was just a gentle press of lips, hands resting on neck and hips. Then Nicky tilted his head a bit more to the side and nipped at Joe’s lower lip. Joe let out a shuddering exhale and leaned further into the kiss. They languidly explored each other’s mouths as their hands began to wander. Joe’s hands slid up Nicky’s spine to feel his back muscles move under his hands.

Then Nicky’s hands reached Joe’s ass and he squeezed as he pulled Joe in, pressing their lower bodies together.

Their kiss broke as they both exhaled shakily at the sensation.

“Bedroom?” Joe whispered, wanting to make sure they were on the same page.

Nicky nodded, his nose brushing against Joe’s as he did so.

Joe smiled, taking Nicky’s hand and a step back. Nicky followed close behind him, a wall of warmth at his back.

There was no sign of Sable as they entered the bedroom, but Joe left the door open in case she needed to exit while he was otherwise preoccupied.

“Would you sit?” Joe asked Nicky when they reached the bed.

Nicky did, and Joe stepped into the space between his legs. He caressed Nicky’s cheek, his neck extending as he looked up at Joe. Joe was unable to resist ducking his head and pressing a kiss against the skin there, just below his beauty mark. The hum Nicky let out urged him to continue and Joe pressed kiss after kiss into Nicky’s neck. He reached the taut line of muscle on the right side of his throat and sunk his teeth into it.

Nicky’s hands tightened against his hips and he let out a shaky breath.

Joe released him and stepped away a moment to push Nicky’s legs together, before sitting on his lap. Nicky met him with a kiss that stole the breath from Joe’s lungs.

He felt Nicky’s fingers fiddle with the hem of his shirt and he regretfully pulled back so that he could be divested of it. While they were parted, he pulled Nicky’s shirt up and over his head as well.

Pausing, he took in all the new skin that had been laid bare.

Nicky was strong, but his muscle wasn’t defined like Joe’s was. Joe enjoyed going to the gym in the mornings after Fajr, whereas Nicky’s strength seemed to come from working in a kitchen, kneading dough and lifting boxes. A casual strength, rather than a deliberate one.

Joe’s hands slid up Nicky’s arms, over his shoulders, and down his chest. He could feel Nicky’s hands on his exposed back, feeling his shoulder blades. Joe pushed gently on Nicky’s chest and he lay back on the bed, Joe following him down until they were pressed together from their lips to their toes.

They tried to keep as much contact as they could while taking off their pants and underwear, which made it somewhat awkward. After Joe’s elbow found Nicky’s side, making him give out an “oof,” their eyes met and they began to laugh together.

Then there were no clothes between them and the laughter left them.

After, Nicky flopped off the top of Joe and let out a breathless huff.

“Mother of God, Joe, I think you ruined me,” he groaned.

Joe froze. “What did you just say?” he demanded, post coital bliss abandoned at the sound of that word.

Nicky cocked his head and repeated, “You rui- oh, Joe, I’m sorry. That was a horrible choice of words.”

No matter how much he thought of the prophecy that changed his life, he couldn’t find a way to change their meaning.

For you are blessed and cursed and only those words will set you free.

It couldn’t be… could it?

“Nicky,” Joe said urgently. “When I was told the prophecy, the woman said that only the words would set me free. I have been trying to think of other meanings behind the words for over half my life. You don’t think- I mean, could it?”

Nicky’s eyes were wide as he stared at Joe.

“I, I don’t know. It would be wonderful if you weren’t to ruin your soulmate in the traditional sense, but who knows what the intent of the prophecy was?”

“Nicolò,” Joe said, raising a hand to caress his cheek. “You do realize that in this scenario, you would be my soulmate, right?”

Nicky stared at him, then he shot upright, his hand holding Joe’s to his face. “How could we know?”

“Well…” Joe said, his gaze falling to the wrist with the talisman around it. It was on the arm that Nicky held, and slowly, Nicky relaxed his hold until their hands lay clasped between them.

“Nicky, if I’m wrong and the word rings true, but you really are my-” Joe couldn’t even finish the sentence, overwhelmed at the implications behind it.

Nicky’s free hand cupped the back of Joe’s neck and pressed their foreheads together.

“Then we will face it together,” he whispered fiercely. “Whatever may come next. I’ve been looking for you a long time. My soul doesn’t wish to be parted from yours any longer.”

Joe’s chest throbbed and he winced. Nicky must have felt his flinch, because he tightened his grip on Joe, as if by holding him close, he could protect him from any pain.

“My heart, my soul, my very being wants to be with you so badly that it pains me. But… I’m afraid. I will not survive being apart from you, Nicky, but I couldn’t if I destroy you either,” Joe admitted.

“Yusuf,” Nicky said, his eyes shining. He lifted their hands and pressed a kiss to Joe’s knuckles. “You are worth it.”

Joe’s eyes were so clouded with tears that he had to feel for the clasp of his bracelet. Nicky’s hand stopped him.

“May I?” he asked.

Joe blinked, and his vision cleared slightly as tears began to roll down his cheeks. He reached up and pulled Nicky into a slow, soft kiss before he rested his forehead against his.

“A man who will uplift me and support me no matter the adversity,” Joe whispered into the small space between them. “I could ask for nothing else.”

He felt Nicky let go of his hand, then his fingers against his wrist.

Joe closed his eyes.

Nicky undid the clasp and pulled the bracelet free.

And still, Joe could not open his eyes.

“Whenever you are ready, Yusuf,” Nicky murmured.

Uplifting. Supporting. Nicolò.

Joe took in a breath, pulled back from their forehead touch, and opened his eyes.

His breath froze in his lungs.

He had known this man before this moment, he knew that. He had seen that beauty mark, those eyes, those shoulders. He had felt Nicky’s skin against his own.

But it all felt new.

This, this was the moment that stories were made of. The first contact between soulmates, when the connection snapped into place. The moment that said that this, this person, was significant. Vital.

“Nicolò…” he breathed, reaching out and stopping just before he made contact with his face.

Nicky closed the last hairsbreadth of space between them and Joe felt an ache in his chest, totally different from that which he had felt when cutting himself off from Nicky. His soulmate. It was a feeling of relief, a loosening of a band long wrapped around his chest, until he felt like he had taken deep, filling breath for the first time in eighteen years.

“Hello Yusuf,” Nicky said, smiling at him, his cheek resting in Joe’s palm.

“Hello Nicolò,” Yusuf murmured. He let his thumb caress the line of Nicky’s cheekbone. “I have not breathed so easily in nearly twenty years.”

“I’m glad of your relief.”

“I’m glad that it’s you,” Joe countered. They weren’t arguing, but it needed to be said. “You, who wanted to help a stranger in pain. You, who has already uplifted and supported me, before we knew we were connected. You,” he continued, his voice turning softer but his free hand started to slide up Nicky’s thigh, “whose kiss thrills me and whose body I wish to learn like my own. I am so blessed, Nicolò, that it is you.”

Their lips met once more and every brush, every touch of their hands, every thrust felt like a revelation.

Like a curse made into a blessing.

Like being set free.

_________________________________________

“Ya Allah!” Joe exclaimed later, shooting upright in bed. “How am I going to tell my parents how we got around the prophecy?!”

#joe x nicky #kaysanova #the old guard #magic au #soulmates au #fanfic #my fic

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thevindicativevordan · 3 years ago

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On Lois Lane

Figured it well past time I got to the matriarch of the Superfamily, especially since I already wrote about the other major "LL" in Superman's life.

Hardest part of writing about Lois is what more can be added that hasn't already been said? She's The Love Interest when it comes to female supporting characters, so iconic and successful that like Superman himself, she's inspired countless copycats: Iris West, Vicki Vale, the current video game version of MJ Watson, if your hero has a love interest who is a reporter, they're drawing on the archetype that Lois established. She was there from the very beginning, before there were Krypton, Smallville, the Kents, the Rogues, before Superman could even fly Lois was there.

And my God is she such a fantastic character in her own right.

Whereas Clark himself is pretty damn different if you compare and contrast his Golden Age incarnation with his modern incarnation, Golden Age Lois is pretty recognizable as Lois Lane. Feisty, independent, scornful of danger and of cowardice (especially in a "peer" like Clark), a bit in awe of Superman while also eager to press him for information about himself, willing to throw herself into danger if she can get that exclusive scoop. Her personality in the early comics is much more like her modern incarnation than the lovestruck wanna-be housewife she became in the Silver Age. Lois is one of the few characters who basically came into comics perfect from Day 1.

I love the Rucka idea that she somehow has everyone's number and can call up anyone from the lowliest criminal to the highest politicians. I like when writers show that she herself is able to wear a variety of disguises, something I'm sure she and Clark can bond over once he reveals his identity to her. And I love that she is basically waging a one-woman war against corruption and evil in Metropolis long before Superman shows up, something the Superman & Lois show highlighted.

It's easy to see why Clark would fall for her. Even putting aside that Lois is hot as hell, she's a great foil to him personality wise. They both are committed to rooting out social ills and taking the fight to crime and oppression wherever it rears it's head, from the Lexcorp boardroom, to the darkest underbelly of Metropolis. They both are kind and compassionate, but have explosive tempers if you piss them off. They both love to snark, although Lois has more bite whereas Clark is more deadpan.

The biggest contrast, and honestly the biggest turn on for Clark, is that Lois is free from doubt. Clark is constantly second-guessing himself, worrying about how others see him, worrying about whether he's making the right choices or if he's approaching his heroics/journalism the right way. Lois? Lois never second-guesses herself, never allows the doubts or opinions of others to affect her course in life. She knows her dad is disappointed and upset with her and she couldn't care less. She knows others think she's a bitch and that only amuses her. She's confident and self-reliant and those are attributes Clark wants desperately to posses himself. How could he not fall head over heels in love?

Why Lois would fall in love with Clark is a bit trickier. It's easy to see why she would love Superman, which is part of why Clark wants her to love the "whole" of him and not just the public persona. Superman is confident, Superman is powerful, Superman kicks ass, he's kind and intelligent, he's a huge celebrity, who wouldn't love him? Clark? Eh he's easy on the eyes but he doesn't really have much of a presence. That's how everyone else views Clark. Lois, I think, would start off viewing Clark as a dweeb who will be gone in a week, the big city too much for him. That he sticks around and toughs it out impresses her. That he manages to outscoop her multiple times infuriates and intrigues her. That he manages to live in Metropolis and see how rotten it can be beneath the shiny gilded exterior, yet doesn't lose his sense of optimism, his faith in other peoples inner goodness, his "naivety" so to speak? I think that's what would make her fall in love with him.

Lois is at heart a "cynical idealist" in my estimation. The cynical side is she's someone who will always fight for the truth, for justice, but I don't think she believes that peoples inherent goodness will win out in the end most of the time. She's seen how selfish people can be, how uncaring, and I think before Clark shows up there's a part of her that thinks she's just bashing her head against a wall trying to change things. The idealist part of her is that she will continue to bash her head against that wall of public indifference anyway. Lois will always fight even if nobody else will fight alongside her, she'll keep writing articles and investigating long after a lesser woman would give up, because it's the principles that matter damnit, even if only to her. That Clark is someone who will join her in that fight while still believing that the rest of the public can be swayed to join them is what I see as the reason why she finally gives him a chance, that optimism remaining in Clark is refreshing and uplifting to her. That he's also hot and can trade banter with her doesn't hurt his chances any.

Lois becoming a mom has been really interesting, even if I haven't always been wholly satisfied with how they've handled the relationship between her and Jon. I haven't seen enough of Lois traits in Jon to really buy him as her offspring, I hope that changes. While I'm not the biggest fan of Tom Taylor to put it mildly, I liked that he emphasized Lois' importance with regards to Jon becoming Superman in interview leading up to the first issue, and I hope we get lots of Lois/Jon interaction in Superman: Son of Kal-El that really flesh out their relationship. At the very least I want to see Jon get some of that Lois patented verbal bite to him.

One last thought with regards to Lois: how the hell was Tom King the first one to realize that Lois and Selina would immediately hit it off?

They're both so similar when you think about it: Brunettes who are willful and independent, who flaunt the rules to get what they want, who outright laugh when their male significant others try to order them around, yeah I totally can see the two of them becoming friends. I really hope that gets continued under someone else, since I don't think anyone other than King has really played with it, but I love the idea of Lois having a "gal pal" that's also caught up in the insanity of life with a superhero.

If not Selina I'd like to see Lois being shown to have a friendship with her copycats such as Vicki or Iris or the rest. Definitely with Cat (even though Cat Grant can drive her up the wall sometimes). More girls' nights out/double dates for Lois, that's all I'm saying.

#lois lane #superman #jon kent #catwoman #dc comics

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mizumi-kahago-writing · 2 years ago

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I know the algebraic expression of L-O-V-E [Kamunami/Hinanami & Yandere!Chiaki] - Chapter 5

Disclaimer: This is an AU in which the Chiaki AI got at least partially infected by the Junko Virus. This is what makes her become a Yandere and a bit out of character. This AU also entails Hajime and Izuru becoming more of a DID-System, instead of fusing into one person. The main difference, compared to the real illness, is that they can switch out consciousness at will. Also, major spoilers and canon divergence ahead. You have been warned.

﹀﹀﹀﹀︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶﹀﹀﹀﹀

Chapter 5

“I can’t believe you kept her hidden for so long, even if it’s only like a week or two.” A certain white-haired individual boasted as they entered the room. “Like geez, Hajime. You could have least told us, that you reconstructed her.” Almost sounding scolding.

Hajime on the other hand didn’t have an answer to that. Also, he avoided visiting the control room since several days now. Too much was going on inside his head: Was it alright to bring someone like Nagito along? Would Chiaki even want to talk to them, after what happened?

“Anyways, now show me the hopeful recreation of our beloved class president. I can’t wait to see her again.” His tone of voice shifted to a soft chuckle. “I’m trying. I told you, she shut herself off last time, and I don’t know if she wants to talk with me now. Especially after I left her waiting for so long…” Adding the last part, almost whispering.

To both their surprise, as Hajime pressed the power button, the machine sprang to life, displaying the Chiaki AI, just the way he had left her previously. “H-hi Chiaki. Sorry for not visiting for a couple of days…” Embarrassed about that.

Nagito on the other hand stormed past Hajime, observing the screen. “Fantastic! That really is her! I can’t believe it. Izuru did an amazing job. She looks so real, almost as if I could reach inside and touch her.” Admiring the AI behind the screen.

“Hello Hajime. And you’re Nagito. Glad to meet you in person for the first time. I could only recollect experiences with you from the memory loaded up into me. We seemed to be good friends when we were in school.”

“Ah, she even remembers me. Hajime, quick tell me, how much does she know?” Shaking his hands in front of him, Hajime nudged Nagito to take a step back for a second, whispering as both turned away: “Don’t mention anything about ‘you-know-what’, ok?” With a firm nod, he gave to understand what Hajime meant.

After Hajime let Nagito chat with Chiaki for a while, Chiaki looked past Nagito to focus on Hajime again. “I assume you didn’t bring him here just for us to talk. Have you changed your mind about giving me an artificial body?” Targeting his doubt, he had harnessed over the past days.

“I’m still not so sure about that. Izuru said it’s a bad idea, so I want to believe him.” Trying to get away from the topic. “If you’d have listened to Izuru prior, I wouldn’t be here in the first place.” Chiaki debated with him.

Fair. She was right.

Nagito was just a bystander at this point, giving his opinion regardless. “Izuru might be right about most things, but he still cannot process any human emotion. If your heart says it’s the right thing, you should do it, Hajime.”

“What if there is no right or wrong?” Muttering to himself. He had learned in the past that the world isn’t so black and white, yet his own indecisiveness came back to haunt him. “Can you repeat that please?” Nagito asked him, as he didn’t listen to his rambling properly.

“It’s nothing. Don’t mind me.” Shoving the topic away, again.

“I’d like to become human again, Kazuichi could build me a body and Hajime could simply upload me. Then I could be with all of you again. I think it’d uplift the whole class and bring some hope to them all.” Now targeting Nagito with her speech, knowing she’d scratch an itch with him, as long as she was using the word ‘hope’.

“It sure sounds easy enough. But I am not sure how the others would react to seeing you again. They might grief or fall into despair again, after all…” Not sure if Nagito should go on with that sentence. “… I’m just a replica, not the real Chiaki.” She finished for him, her voice sounding so bitter like never before.

“Huh? I didn’t wanna say it like that, but that’s exactly it.” Nonchalantly chuckling it off, as blunt as he usually was.

“Enough, both of you. This decision is already hard enough for me to make.” Hajime interrupted their bickering with a stern voice. “I want Chiaki to come back to us as much as everyone else. But Izuru said it’s the wrong thing.”

“Since when did Izuru’s opinion stop you from doing anything your way?” A valid counterpoint, not sure who of them brought it up. Hajime bit his thumbnail, deep in thought.

“Nagito… what do you really think about booting up an AI Chiaki in an artificial body?” His serious deep voice cutting edge through the room. “I think it may not be a bad idea overall, but we need to be careful who we expose her to and who gets to see her.”

Looking at his own hand. “Her existence could bring hope and despair, to everyone at the same time. But ultimately, it’s up to you, how you wanna deal with the situation from here on out.” Heavy silence once more. Hajime was no step closer to any decision.

“T-thanks. I guess.” He just muffled. Nagito getting closer to Hajime, as he placed a hand on his shoulder. “If I were you, I’d ask Kazuichi what he thinks of this whole deal. After all, he’d be the one who’d have to build the body. He knows best what a limitations and opportunities a robotic body comes with.”

“Ah well, that’s all I gotta say. I better get going and leave you two alone now. Thank you for showing her to me. Maybe I’ll come back later for another chat.” And with that cheery attitude he left the room and Chiaki behind with Hajime.

None of them had anything, quietly staring at each other for a couple of seconds. “I guess, I should really ask Kazuichi about that.” Excusing himself to back out of the situation, without even properly saying good-bye, the computer turned off behind him just as silently.

With quick, directed steps Hajime went his way to look for a certain mechanic. On the path there, he was interrupted by his usual brain-intruder.

“I hope you’re aware of what you are doing.”

“I’m not. That’s why I ask more people than just you.”

“Despite knowing that I always have the only logical conclusion to a situation? You want to rely on other flawed human beings, driven by their emotions rather than their mind?”

“You know, that’s exactly what Nagito said earlier about you. You think you’re the only one who’s right about everything because you don’t have emotions anymore. But humans work a bit differently, we are humans because we have emotions.”

“I don’t need to remind you. My emotions were removed for this exact purpose. To not let them cloud my judgement and give room to unlimited talents.”

Hajime didn’t need to say that he knew, he just suppressed Izuru’s thoughts within his mind as much as he possibly could, before running into the conversation with Kazuichi.

“Hey, got a moment?” Seeing the pink haired rascal tinkering with some stuff he found around the island. “Always, what’s up bro?” Flashing his spiky teethy grin, as he looked up from his work.

“This may sound a little weird, but let’s say there were an AI on the same level of sentience as Alter Ego was… how difficult would that be to make a robotic body for said AI and boot the program into that system?”

“Woah- That’s a highly specific question you’re asking there. But I won’t judge.” Stopping his work entirely for a moment.

“Who or what are we talking about here? Like you’re not thinking of bringing ‘her’ back, right?” His smile quickly turned into a frown. “Did that emo in your head ran rampant again?”

“No, that’s not it. Can you stop assuming for a second?” Turning down Kazuichi immediately. “That ‘emo-in-my-head’ is actually against the idea, because it’s an emotionally driven thing.”

“Phew, for a second, I thought I needed to bonk your head with a wrench to get all your loose screws right again.” Waving said wrench around mid-air.

“But for real, whom are you talkin’ about?”

“It… doesn’t really matter. For now. Let’s say, it’s a friend of ours. A very, very dear friend.”

Scratching his pink hair underneath his beanie. “Come on’, man. At this point it’s obvious whom you’re talking about.”

“Is it?!” Hajime gasped in surprise. “Well not entirely, but I only know one other AI on the same level as what the little programmer kid pulled off. Obviously, it’s gotta be your school-girlfriend, Chiaki.”

“We never were-“ …that close. Thinking about it, he understood who he had hurt her a few days prior. She was in love with him for so long and he never noticed.

“Yeah, yeah whatever. So, the deal is, you want me to build a robot body to contain her AI? Man, you’re really missing her that much, huh?” Hajime nodding, albeit a bit reluctantly.

“I can understand why it might be a bad idea and why that guy inside your brain is so against it. Remember, with the program being destroyed, we destroyed her original AI as well as that virus with her. It could be dangerous to release her back into this world. You should know best, mate.”

Warning Hajime again, he bit his lower lip. “Can you all stop scolding me about it? I know it may be a bad idea, but I came here to discuss it with you.”

“Did you? Or did you just come here to hear me say: ‘Sure, Dude. I’d love to build a robot body for her’?”

Hitting the mark once more. “I... I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Lemme be real here. As much as I love the idea, I won’t do anything which neither you or me could stand behind 100%, so think about it for a bit longer and then let me know about your decision, alright?”

Again, advice which didn’t bring him any further in the process. “Yeah, I guess. Thanks, Kazuichi.”

Another smile, paired with Kazuichi’s usual light-heartedness: “No problem. That’s what bros are here for. Knocking on each other’s heads, to get them gears moving again.”

“I-I guess.”

“Imma get going now.”

“Greet Chiaki from me, when you speak to her the next time.”

“Sure, will do.”

He left the spot, to retreat into his cottage and let everything sink in. It certainly wasn’t an easy decision and weighting the pros and cons on both sides was a difficult task as well.

Ultimately, all that thinking only left him more frustrated. He ruffled his own hair, then hit his mattress with his fist. “This is so aaarg-“ Yelling out in distress.

Izuru held himself back, he didn’t want to have anything to do with this, at all.

Laying in his bed, staring at the ceiling, shifting over, staring at the wall. ‘Think. What would she want? The real her. Not this replica. Would she want to come back?’ With lingering thoughts like this, he drifted into a slumber.

﹀﹀﹀﹀︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶﹀﹀﹀﹀

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nothingunrealistic · 3 years ago

Note

Opinions about the deh movie?

not jared enough!

you did say opinions plural, though. first, personal context: i’ve never been in the “who needs a movie, why can’t they just give us a proshot and call it a day” camp, because i’ve never been in the “dear evan hansen is a unique beautiful wonderful brilliant piece of art” camp. i’ve always found the stage show to be frustrating and unsatisfying and contradictory and incomplete. (compels me, though!) so when the movie was announced way back in 2018, i was excited. i didn’t expect it to be good, necessarily — the movie was announced less than two months after the deh novel was released, and the novel was, overall, less than satisfying — but the novel made changes to the story and characters, and some of them were changes i liked or at least found interesting, and i hoped the movie would do the same.

and… the movie sure did change things! it’s clear from the movie itself and from many, many interviews done about it that the creative team and cast saw it as a chance to fix the stage show, even beyond adjusting it to make it work on film. but their approach to Fixing the show seems to be “throw out or modify everything we can that made people go ‘this is a show about people who say and do bad things, how could you write this’ and lean as far as we can into the Mental Health Awareness themes.” which i don’t think is great! this show started out as an attempt to ask the question “why do people make tragedies about themselves?” and answer it. it’s drifted further and further from that over time (even just through the various iterations of the stage show) as more audiences saw that the central characters were anxious / depressed / in therapy / taking psychiatric medication / suicidal and went “oh! this is A Show About Mental Illness!” and the writers and marketing team scrambled to catch up.

this movie is the apex of that. evan lies, sure, but cynthia practically invents the whole lie for him, so how culpable is he, really? evan doesn’t start the connor project or plan the memorial service, alana does all of that, and he’s just helping her out! no one’s selling connor-themed wristbands or buttons, alana’s just giving them away for free, and we’ll never comment on it! evan doesn’t kiss zoe until she’s told him she likes him For Him, so their relationship is fine and no other characters will ever criticize it! evan doesn’t go off his meds, instead he has a nice chat with alana about how they both take meds, and when evan complains to heidi about his meds she says that there’s nothing wrong with needing help, so you know we’re not saying that being medicated is bad or unnecessary! evan confesses his lie to the whole world and finds the people who Really Knew connor and learns more about him, so he’s redeemed himself! and because everything evan does is fine now, jared will no longer criticize him or point out the selfishness of his actions! see our partnerships with mental health foundations and our messaging about how this movie will heal and uplift people In These Troubled Times and ignore that the core of it is still the story of a person who did a terrible thing, and please, no matter what, don’t get upset about this disconnect on twitter!

this probably sounds like i hated the movie. i didn’t hate it! i came in expecting to like some aspects of it and dislike other aspects and be basically indifferent to most of it, and that’s about how i felt. (that’s how i felt about the novel, too.) really, i was just disappointed that all the promises of the movie fixing flaws in the show led up to that particular angle on Fixing The Show. i want a version of the story that truly grapples with evan making awful choices, and with everyone making or having made awful choices, and why they do that, and how they can repair the damage of those choices. and a movie that opens up the stage musical to show the wider community these characters live in would be the perfect venue for that. but the writers don’t seem interested in that version of the story anymore. (this is also how it comes across when stephen chbosky, who signed on to direct the movie adaptation of a musical, insists that this isn’t a big-M Musical, it’s a Drama With Songs, as if it’s somehow worse for a movie musical to feel like a musical than for it to feel like a movie where ben platt sings sometimes.)

these are all very general opinions, aren’t they. more specific opinions under a cut, as they may contain an excessive amount of intricate detail that may interest only a particular audience.

characters

evan: the writers really, truly want us to believe that evan has never done anything wrong, ever, in his life, and to prove it, they will hand off many of the Things He Did Wrong to other people so they’re no longer on his list of misdeeds. and yet. he no longer tells jared about being a Tree Expert, which means that his line in sincerely me about “forest expertise” (and also, uh, everything about the orchard being a Place Of Significance for connor) seems as if it stems solely from him climbing a tree and falling. (remember in arena stage when other characters brought up evan’s Love Of Trees every ten minutes? we’ve done a full 180 from that.) funnily enough, even as the writers have made the effort to have evan lie as little as possible, they’ve also started evan lying even sooner than in the stage show — telling heidi that he changed his shirt because there was a stain on the old one, that he already had dinner, that jared’s just So Nice. so surely he could have done some lying to the murphys for himself, even without jared’s advice of “just nod and confirm” to guide him in the thirty seconds before the murphys’ questions veered out of yes-or-no territory.

heidi: oh, heidi. a nurse now, because “nurse’s aide” is too many words for a script! no longer in classes to be a paralegal! missing out on taco tuesday with evan, even when it’s not her fault! no longer allowed to speak to the murphys without evan in the room to witness the conversation! has a parking ticket to pay! (that moment did make me laugh, though, just for the delay between the setup and the payoff.)

jared: what we did get of jared, i loved. stephen chbosky is spared my undivided resentment thanks to his decision to make jared gay. nik dodani is fantastic, even if the tone of the movie forced him to play things less comical / closer to the ground than he could have. the reaction shots / brief moments of jared during only us and in reaction to evan’s letter being posted online were brilliant. but… so much of jared’s character and role in the story was cut away, and it's a disservice both to him and to the show. to quote michael greif: “The audience sees Evan through Jared’s eyes. Just when the audience is feeling very cynical about what Evan’s up to, Jared gets to state it so we’re all comfortable. So Jared’s constant critique of Evan also stands in for an audience’s critique of Evan.” but jared no longer gets to criticize evan. after sincerely me, he doesn’t say a word about all the time evan is spending with his fake family, or how happy zoe must be that evan’s gotten his cast off, or how connor’s death is the best thing ever to happen to evan, or how evan should remember who his friends are and he could tell everyone everything about what evan’s done. and without jared’s critique of evan, the audience is naturally left to wonder if the writers know that everything evan is doing (or, everything evan used to do that has since been reassigned to other characters) is Bad. and we never get to hear evan argue for why it’s okay for him to do these things, that he didn’t lie just to get with zoe, that he’s helping the murphys, that being popular isn’t what matters to him. (also: 1) are we just not supposed to wonder how jared came to be involved in the connor project in this version of the story? is it that unimportant? 2) having jared tell everyone to read evan & connor’s emails is a bad choice! the person doing that needs to be someone who thinks the emails are real!)

alana: love alana. love that she now happens to see connor sign evan’s cast in the library but without hearing their argument, perfectly positioning her to believe evan’s story of friendship from very early on. love that the movie expands her character and shows us the anxiety that underlies her quest for achievement and the depression that looms over it. love that she connects with evan over that very thing and that doing so raises the stakes when they’re at odds in act 2. love that we get more insight into why she felt compelled to post evan’s letter, and what she did afterward. don’t love that the expansion of alana’s character seemingly came at the cost of erasing some of her awkwardness and her anger at evan and her Earnest To A Fault, Prone To Melodrama tendencies, all things that i really liked about her. don’t love that her expanded backstory / role mentioned nothing whatsoever about her grandmother, which was one of the clearest seeds of Something Below The Surface planted for her in the stage show. don’t love that founding the connor project (which evan originally did) and making connor merch (which jared, and various other students, originally did) are now things that she does but with all questions about the morality of those actions stripped away. don’t love that we still don’t know what happened to her after words fail, other than getting a flash drive from evan in the mail. baffled by her wearing glasses but only to do homework in the library for two minutes and nothing else, not even reading / watching things on her phone or laptop. that doesn’t make sense with her being farsighted or nearsighted.

connor: my condolences to connor stans who are mourning the lack of long hair for him in the movie. but i’m more interested in the lack of posthumous connor (meaning, the version of connor that is an extension of evan and appears to him to convince him to carry on the lie — technically, sincerely me connor is also posthumous connor, but i’m not talking about that connor here.) posthumous connor serves to clarify evan’s state of mind and explain to the audience (as well as evan himself) why he carries on with / expands the lie at two key points — disappear / the founding of the connor project, and after good for you / before the posting of the letter. posthumous connor is a counterpart to jared — they’re evan’s shoulder devil & angel, so to speak — and having evan simply barrel through the story without input or criticism from either of them makes his thought process totally opaque. without evan being told, aloud, by another version of himself, that he has to keep going because he can’t let anyone forget connor (because then they’ll forget him too,) or that he can’t give up the lie because everyone will hate him, or that he’s been lying to himself about his fall from the tree being an accident, it’s harder to see why evan continues the lie so long, and when he might consider turning back if not for that ultimate fear of being seen and being hated.

zoe: the first time i watched the movie, i commented that zoe seemed meaner (which i approve of! she’s having a very hard time and she deserves the chance to be mean!) but after a second viewing and some thought, i don’t think it’s entirely true. zoe, like all the characters, had a lot of her less kind lines cut — she no longer calls evan weird or a loser, for instance, even if she now complains about him showing up early to dinner — but she does have more to say about connor, about family day at rehab and the stories about him that surely aren’t in the emails. (and now, i guess, she’ll show up to evan’s house unannounced to tell him she likes him and wants to date him.)

cynthia: cynthia now builds evan’s entire lie for him — the secret email accounts, the insistence that evan remembers something good about connor, the hiking trails behind the old orchard where he and connor surely went. when she gives evan connor’s tie, she even ties it around his neck for him, rather than evan tying it himself as in the stage show. amy adams mentioned in a q&a that there are moments when cynthia suspects the truth, or wants to ask more, but simply doesn’t because she needs the story so badly. it paints a tragic picture of cynthia and how desperate she is to believe that her son had a friend. as does cynthia being the last person to leave in words fail, telling evan through a smile that it’s time for him to go and holding off her breakdown until he’s gone. the stage show is clear about evan initially going with the lie for cynthia's benefit; the movie is even clearer. (i wish, as i do for the stage version, that we got to see cynthia and evan spending time together as a Parent And Son like we do with larry and evan. i guess the tie scene is the closest we get to that, but let’s see them make chicken milanese together!)

larry: i get why evan would see this version of larry as the dad he’s always wanted. he’s There for his family, he cracks the same jokes he’s made a million times, he tried to connect with connor based on what connor cared about rather than on his own interests, he doesn’t make sexist comments about his daughter as soon as she leaves the room. but he’s still the guy who read his son’s emails and dismissed his son’s first suicide attempt as attention-seeking. (note that cynthia’s line is no longer “the first time he threatened to kill himself” but “the first time he tried to kill himself.”) making him zoe and connor’s stepfather positions him both in contrast to evan’s father (he walked into a family and stayed there, rather than walking out of his family and staying out) and as a parallel to evan (he joined a grieving family and essentially took the place of the family member who’d died.) but using that to open him up to cynthia’s criticism of “you NEVER understood him because he wasn’t YOURS” seemed unnecessary. (also, if he’d raised these kids for over a decade after their father’s death, and was really the only father they knew, would he not legally adopt them and just call himself their dad? why not?)

zoe & cynthia & larry as a family unit: the new scene of the three of them after iicth, getting along and liking each other, helps explain why evan actually enjoys being part of this family. i also liked the increased emphasis on zoe being closer to larry than to cynthia (the two of them flashing peace signs at one another when zoe walks into the house just before requiem, larry being the one to go after zoe in the middle of words fail) and how cynthia, by contrast, was closest to connor and thus most motivated to latch onto evan as connor’s best friend and a second son.

the assorted high school students whose names you would only know if you checked imdb: the source of all remaining “isn’t it fucked up how people make tragedies about themselves” content, which again suggests that the writers wanted as little to do with that idea as they could possibly get away with. the Rude Jocks mess with connor while he’s alive (one of them even gets the “school shooter chic” line now) and take a selfie with his locker when he’s dead, laugh at evan when his speech is going off the rails and tell everyone how inspired they are after it goes viral. as for zoe’s friends, i didn’t expect much but i did expect them to, uh, talk. (i’m thinking of this interview with demarius copes, who plays zoe’s friend oliver, in which he talks about oliver being gay. this doesn’t come across when oliver’s name is never said and he never speaks outside of singing five words in you will be found.)

songs in the movie

waving through a window: the audacity of stephen chbosky to make this the opening number and then refuse to make it A Musical Number whatsoever. it’s made clear that this entire sequence is happening in evan’s head, but the actions of everyone around him still have to be as realistic as possible, for some reason, even though everyone else moving in sync with one another and in time with the music (as they do on stage!) would do far more to put evan visibly On The Outside than having everyone wander around aimlessly with evan in their midst does. also, the choice to 1) place this number Before evan talks to anyone / tries and fails to talk to anyone other than heidi 2) end it with a smash cut to jared, who’s sitting right next to evan, trying to get his attention, does even more than the stage musical to suggest that a lot of evan’s Total Isolation exists only from his perspective and he’s seen & cared about more than he realizes. not sure if that was intentional, but it sure was there!

for forever: ben platt has two volumes in this song. they are “whispering” and “belting.” the sound mixing did nothing to counteract this. maybe it’s fine in the theater, but watching this movie on a laptop and having to repeatedly change the volume to listen to one song comfortably is a pain. i expected more scenes of evan & connor’s imagined day together, but i guess they wanted to limit it to evan’s fall from the tree and that particular True Story being rewritten to feature connor.

sincerely me: a delight. loved it. visuals / editing / choreography were 10/10 (and, not coincidentally, the part of the movie that felt most like A Musical. someone check on stephen!) i wish they’d kept jared’s first line of “i’m just trying to tell the truth” (it says so much!) and “there is nothing unrealistic about the love one man feels for another, in fact some would say there’s something quite beautiful,” but otherwise i was fine with the dialogue & lyrics. also, big fan of the new brass in the orchestrations. thank you mark graham.

requiem: the individual performances were fine. the editing of zoe, larry, and cynthia’s faces over one another was strange. the paralleling of zoe walking down the hall at school / larry walking through the cubicles at work / cynthia walking down the aisle at the grocery store wasn’t bad, but i have to wonder how complete strangers are recognizing cynthia as “that woman whose son died” as readily as zoe’s classmates / larry’s coworkers would recognize the same about them. i liked the driving sequence with zoe. i did not like that the song ended with us outside the house hearing everyone singing inside.

if i could tell her: weird place to put the one “fuck” permitted in this movie. i don’t like this song / scene in general, but it is more tolerable knowing evan won’t actually kiss zoe at the end.

the anonymous ones: a good exploration of alana’s perspective and struggles, if a bit vague (it is a pasek & paul song), and using it to revisit the first day of school / the pep rally from alana’s point of view is a smart choice. but the broader choice to have alana plan the memorial service and start the connor project and rope evan into it, rather than evan starting it all and asking alana and jared to help him, is another change that takes agency / culpability away from evan, and lessens the impact of him leaving the connor project behind to spend time with the murphys — that’s a much more inconsiderate move if the connor project was his idea in the first place and he’s now abandoning the work to be done by the people he asked to help him, rather than him losing interest in something he had to be persuaded to do anyway.

you will be found: the one song that made me tear up when i saw the stage musical in person, because the display of people with #YouWillBeFound signs across every single screen really did something. the movie did not successfully replicate that with its attempts at a Social Media Montage. however, larry’s breakdown works much better in the movie. it helps that in this version, he gets staging / physical direction other than “bend over with your hands on your knees like you’re out of breath from running a 5k, but also, cry.” (also, why take away jared’s solo entirely? is he no longer moved at all by the virtual community? i know nik dodani doesn’t sing but you gave him a new solo line in sincerely me!)

only us: another song and scene i already don’t care for. having the scene be about Starting a relationship between zoe and evan, rather than clarifying their relationship, makes it feel kind of abrupt / out of place. however, pairing this song with the scenes of heidi being blown off for taco tuesday / jared seeing zoe and evan dancing at homecoming / alana finding inconsistencies in the emails? (keep that sequence in mind.) and a scene of the connor project having to meet without evan? showing exactly who and what falls away when it’s Us And Only Us? DELICIOUS. makes it work for evan and zoe to go right from only us to the scene with heidi at the murphys’ house.

words fail: worked really well split into two parts. the staging of the section after the murphys have left, transitioning into evan’s conversation with heidi, is fairly abstract on stage anyway, so setting that in ellison state park / having evan return to the site of the deepest darkest secret that he thinks everyone will hate him for, as he’s verbally confronting the thought of being known and hated, was smart. (plus, without posthumous connor, we had to find out somehow that evan’s fall wasn’t an accident before he told heidi.)

so big / so small: basically exactly the same as it is on stage. julianne moore’s singing voice isn’t polished, but it is heartfelt, and that combination works well here. (and i did, unfortunately, laugh when heidi told evan “it’s gonna get better” after she finished singing. if evan is straight then why inadvertent invocation of the it gets better project.)

a little closer: when ben platt said that the movie had a “third act” focused on evan redeeming himself, i was expecting more than a confession on instagram and a five-minute montage inserted in the act 2 timeskip. the song itself is perfectly fine, i’m just a bit let down by what was done with it. (it does work nicely as the song to be reprised for the finale, though.)

songs not in the movie

anybody have a map?: taking away this song has the effect of putting us more firmly in evan’s head (which weirdly seems to be the goal of every adaptation of this show, as if we weren’t already in evan’s head enough) at the cost of less focus on heidi and cynthia. it also means we never see connor interact with his parents and barely see him interact with zoe, so until the very end of the movie, our own view of connor is filtered entirely through his interactions with evan and other people’s memories of him. (and occasional shots of him in the bleachers during the pep rally, i suppose.) i don’t think that’s a terrible thing — it better makes the point that evan didn’t and now can’t know The Real Connor.

disappear: the anonymous ones made all the same points, except that as i said, evan no longer initiates anything related to Remembering Connor. the movie seems to have entirely removed evan’s fear of Being Forgotten About, which is kind of the point of disappear.

to break in a glove: the glove scene works fine without a song! and i will admit, i prefer a version of larry who doesn’t insist that he was absolutely right about everything he did in raising connor, even if he still defends some of the awful things he did do. (also, intriguing choice to have evan lie to larry about his father being proud of him, but no longer reveal the lie. and “evan texts his father about what larry shared with him, one of a string of many unanswered texts” was about the right level of Delving Into Evan’s Issues With His Dad. the novel’s choice to have evan’s relationship with his dad be one of the Most Important Factors in his depression and his suicide attempts was not a choice i thought made sense.)

good for you: removing good for you and just giving us a series of evan’s interactions with heidi & alana & jared that drove him to nearly tell the truth could have worked fine. but the writers only got halfway there. we got (most of) evan and heidi’s argument after dinner with the murphys, and we got evan’s two arguments with alana (during gfy and after gfy) synthesized into one scene, but no confrontation with jared and no fleeting resolution on evan’s part to tell the truth. these things are connected! in the stage show, jared is the last person to argue with evan, the one who knows the truth and reminds evan that he could tell everyone everything, and that’s the straw that breaks evan’s resolve to keep up the lie — until posthumous connor reminds him that if he tells the truth, he’ll be hated, which spurs evan to go to alana and double down on the lie. even if the structure of the sequence with alana no longer allows evan to go to jared afterward and say We Need More Emails, or to briefly decide to tell the truth until being convinced otherwise, there could easily have been a scene between the heidi argument and the alana argument in which evan crosses paths with jared, they argue about how connor’s death is the best thing ever to happen to evan, and jared brings up evan’s relationship with zoe and his own ability to Tell Everyone Everything. (which would complete a heidi-jared-alana sequence to exactly mirror the heidi-jared-alana sequence from only us: heidi’s mad about evan choosing cynthia and larry over her, jared’s mad about evan and zoe, alana’s mad about the emails and evan blowing off the connor project! we were so close!)

you will be found reprise: none of the reprises from the stage show made it into the movie; this is the one that really should have. half of what works about you will be found is the reprise showing how the hyperconnectivity of the internet can quickly sour from community and acceptance into mobs and hate campaigns. (“you will be found” and “you are not alone” become threats!) and we do get a second Social Media Montage of people online getting outraged about evan’s letter and the characters reacting to this outrage, so the opportunity for a reprise was right there. they just didn’t take it.

stuff that clearly changed from the stage show to the movie because people complained about it in the stage show

the “school shooter chic” line: i guess steven levenson decided it was fine to take that line out of jared’s mouth as long as A Teenage Boy, Any Teenage Boy said it? just to show that people are generally shitty to connor, rather than saying anything about jared in particular? (also, i know they’ve used the “manicure” version of the line in the stage musical occasionally, but it still strikes me as odd to have connor’s nail polish be the focus. might have made more sense to go back to it being about his jacket like it was in arena stage.)

ninety percent of jared’s comments about gay people existing before and during sincerely me: you make jared gay and you won’t even let him explain what he knows about relationships Seeming Gay (since evan, ostensible heterosexual, needs these things explained to him, and jared is now the most qualified person to do it) or insist that being gay and loving men is normal and beautiful?? what’s the point!!

evan kissing zoe murphy on her BROTHER’S BED after he DIED: well, he no longer does that, both because he and zoe never hang out in connor’s room anymore and because they don’t kiss until only us. i don’t think it’s a terrible idea to swap out the kiss in iicth for a mutual Almost Kiss, but cutting the kiss entirely from ywbf seems to be trying too hard to make evan and his relationship with zoe as blameless and unobjectionable as possible. (which, judging by the reviews, has not worked, so why try?)

the meds plotline: my opinion on evan going off his meds in the stage musical is that 1) it’s wholly in character for him to do that. he resents having to take meds because they feed into his idea of himself as broken / his idea of heidi as Thinking he’s broken, and in act two he’s trying to convince himself that he’s Fine and Normal because he’s having such a nice time having relationships with the murphys and being famous online, so surely he doesn’t need them, right? and 2) we’re not supposed to believe him when he says he’s fine and not anxious and no longer needs his meds. both of these points were what the writers intended all along! but evidently they didn’t get that across well enough, hence the complaints of “why are you suggesting that if you get a girlfriend you can just go off your anxiety meds and you’ll be fine” that followed the stage show for years, and that plot point being entirely cut from the movie. evan’s talk with alana about what meds they’re both taking, and heidi telling evan that she knows he’s been skipping therapy appointments, do the job of setting evan up to complain that “i have to go to therapy, i have to take drugs," but i think the writers could have made the original plot point work if they’d tried.

stuff that people complained about in the movie specifically

ben platt’s age: i didn’t find his age that distracting in the trailer and wouldn’t have thought about it that much if not for the endless “ben platt is too old for this role he’s a middle-aged father of three and he’s about to crumble into dust!!!” discourse. as is, in watching the movie, the only times when his age did throw me off were 1) his first conversation with zoe (also the only moment that made me go “do these two people know they’re in the same movie?”) and 2) the climax of words fail when he’s crying his eyes out while belting for his life and every muscle, vein, and tendon in his face and neck is standing out. he looks older when wearing The Blue Polo amidst a sea of people dressed like actual teenagers. when he’s in a t-shirt, or a t-shirt and hoodie, it’s less obvious.

ben platt’s hair: it’s not a wig. it’s his actual hair. it’s literally fine. who cares. discuss anything else.

ben platt’s acting: he did not do as good a job Toning It Down for the camera as he and stephen would like us to think. usually that’s fine; sometimes it’s jarring compared to the actors around him. but it is the one thing that makes me think agree should have tried to film a proshot instead. if your goal is to immortalize ben platt’s performance on stage as evan hansen… maybe you should film ben platt ON STAGE as evan hansen!

stephen chbosky’s direction: i’ve already complained about his refusal to let this musical be A Musical, but also: too much shaky cam. we know evan’s anxious, you don’t need to shake the camera all around while it’s pointed at two people standing still in a school hallway to remind us of that.

other things

so many lines of dialogue in this movie were either unintelligible because they were mumbled or inaudible because the music over them was too loud. or both! if you’re dead set on making your movie musical a Drama With Songs, make the dialogue understandable!

it’s not clear what year this movie is set in, and most clues (of which there aren’t many) point to it being set in 2021. which is weird, both because evan’s speech in you will be found happens at the end of september — meaning about half of this movie is set in the future relative to its theatrical release date — and because there’s no acknowledgement of covid whatsoever.

if i were jared? and i spent most of this movie 1) trying to be closer to my one friend by helping him lie about being friends with our dead classmate 2) getting mad when that friend didn’t show up for our dead-classmate-related group project and i had to see him dancing with his girlfriend on instagram? and then after graduation (and the graduation pics we took together) he sent me a flash drive in the mail and it contained a video of said classmate singing a song in group therapy? i would be murderous.

did the shot of the orchard that ended the movie really need to be twenty seconds long???

#inbox #anonymous #dear evan hansen #evan hansen #heidi hansen #jared kalwani #jared kleinman #alana beck #connor murphy #zoe murphy #cynthia murphy #larry mora #larry murphy #this is. over 5700 words long. oops #deh movie

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socketz · 4 years ago

Text

Johnny Depp x Female!Reader

Indulge Me.

Type : Fluff! (with a wee bit of Angst thrown in there)

Warnings : Internal conflict, swearing, kissing (pretty detailed, though nothing overly sexual), a little alcohol consumption I suppose, and that’s all. It’s super fluffy!

Word Count : 6.3k (kinda short, I know :/ my bad)

Request : Not Requested.

Summary : Johnny x Female!Reader, where they have been close friends for a super long time, and the reader (you!) has slowly developed feelings for him. A confession, a walk, and a sweet, slow, kiss, in the rain.

Authors Note : I don’t know why I got the urge to do this, but I started writing and simply did not stop, so here we are. I thought it turned out quite cute, although it is very cliche :) Also, Johnny is not famous in this, though it’s set in like ‘91, or ‘90. He’s just a really sexy regular guy, I suppose. That’s all :) Enjoy!

Indulge Me, Johnny Depp x Female!Reader

There was truly something about him - about Johnny - that you simply could not place. The two of you had been friends, strictly friends, for almost too long to remember, and it seemed that with every passing moment either of your spent, swaddled in each other’s company, that relationship merely grew. It manifested, and developed, so incredibly, yet entirely unnoticed, by both Johnny, and yourself. It was incredible, really, that such a friendship could hinder quite so rapidly, and seemingly only for one participant.

You didn’t mean to begin noticing the little things, the details, about him. Like the way he smiled, so incredibly gentle and uplifting - contagious, you could argue - or the way he would change, so naturally, when around you, in comparison to that of everybody else. His laugh would grow louder, freer, and his voice would amplify; no longer riddled with nerves and a sense of timidness. Comfort, you supposed, was a factor he allowed himself to become engulfed by, whenever you were present, and you certainly liked it. You began noticing the way he would touch you, tender, and cautious, or the way he held your hand - merely due to instinct, he would always blame, though your butterflies wished it something else - and the way he wrapped his arm around your shoulders, when you complained for the cool breeze, never once bothered by your close proximity. You noticed the way his eyes could light up, and he would smile something small; ridden with joy, for no particular reason at all. You noticed that his hair was longer, now, and that it fell to a messy central parting, digits consistently brushing it from his gaze - you liked the way he styled his hair, you decided, and it was so soft - so tender. You began to notice the way he treated you, so polite, yet bitterly brutal when his jokes played themselves around. You noticed things that you probably shouldn’t have, and, well, such an inconvenience caused a severe disruption to your whole mechanism.

At first, you thought it to be an illness of some sort. The stomach churns - the best kind, as you later discovered - and the butterflies, the tingle between your thighs. Am I sick? You began to think, as you checked yourself for a temperature. Alas, there was nothing but a flush of embarrassment to your reddened cheeks, and a heavy sensation within your chest, as you supposed that it would all disburse within a matter of days.

Well, a couple of days came, and went, and things had only gotten worse.

You began to dream of him, and, admittedly, you enjoyed them - of course you did - but it only made your face-to-face discussions an almighty difficult task to partake in. The butterflies ascended into a trail of breathtaking tingles, ignited by the slightest touch, and a sense of fire ruptured within your throat - it was so difficult to say the things you wanted to say, when your infatuation threatened to spill from your tongue at any given moment, and his beautifully chocolate gaze held you so captivated, so numbingly, to your place. He rendered you silent, your mind falling blank, with a simple smile, or a glance. Pathetic! That’s what you’d call it. Utterly pathetic. And, realistically, you knew it would only grow worse, the longer you decided to repress such information from your closest companion - and apparent lover, in your emotions’ eyes - but you simply couldn’t find it in you, not at all, to utter such simple words.

They could do so much damage - undo so many memories! And ruin everything. Maybe you were simply paranoid - maybe you were driven by utmost fear - but romance seemed so terribly painful, and you weren’t entirely sure if you could handle the way it would end. After all, everything good must come to something bad, right? Perhaps it was just the way your childhood played out, between lies and heartbreak, separation and loneliness, and fear and rejection - or maybe you were right. Maybe everything people were taught, all that they would read, about love, and about fictional infatuation, was just that - fiction. Maybe true love didn’t exist, and the books had it all wrong. Though that would not explain the thin sheen of sweat, glistening something noticeable upon your forehead.

You were nervous, to say the least.

The seven o’clock News displayed upon your television, igniting the darkened room in an expanding, blue, illumination, and you nibbled your nails somewhat anxiously, thoughts engulfing the surrounding buzz of the visual journalism - not that you ever paid it any mind, anyway. You always found the News boring - they reported nothing but shit, and you made sure to voice such an opinion, whenever Johnny would force you to watch it. “It’s educational!” He would laugh, gripping onto your hips and forcing you upon his lap. Of course, it was only something playful, and his arms would snake around your waist, chin against your shoulder. It was comfortable, you could never deny, but the News was still ever-boring and droning.

Though, now, it seemed appropriate. You were far too nervous to concentrate on anything in particular, like a gameshow, or something of the sort. Even the soccer seemed far too involving for you.

After all, today was the day you finally relieved yourself of such a weighty secret. You could hardly contain yourself any longer, and you were growing tired of the worried glances Johnny would throw your way, when you flinched from his burning touch, or paused mid-sentence, struggling to find your gasped breath. God, it was all so embarrassing. You hoped sincerely that it wouldn’t render something awkward, or differentiate your friendship, in any which way, but you were certain it was all one sided, and just wouldn’t be the same after. Perhaps he already knew, and was attempting to ignore such a thing, as best he could, and for that, you practically worshiped his ability to handle difficult situations lightheartedly. Or maybe he was as entirely clueless as he seemed to be, and it would be as awkward as you could picture the whole ordeal going.

Either way, you needed to say something, before it accidentally slipped within a regular conversation, and ruined everything. You attempted to reason with yourself, that if things truly did turn bitterly awful, at least tonight there would be pizza and wine, to salvage your mortification, and-

The soft jingle of metal echoed, distant, yet alarming, throughout the quiet and dim apartment. Scuttling, your hands grasped the remote control, muting the television in a rapid and almost panicked manner, breathing laboured and uneven. You weren’t ready - you definitely weren’t ready. You couldn’t do this - tell him how you felt, that is. How the hell would you even go about it? It wasn’t the kind of thing you could just bring up-

“They didn’t have any of that wine you like.” He sighed. You froze, rigid in your seat. “I got somethin’ else,” He trailed, “Doesn’t have a brand, I don’t think.” Two rustling bags settled in place before you, his keys landed with a loud crash upon the glass surface, jacket shrugged upon the ground with a sudden waft of cool breeze. Johnny glanced toward you, as he slumped hastily upon the sofa, booted feet kicked out before him. “What’s up?” He mumbled, his eyes fluttered to a gentle close, eyebrows furrowed gently.

“Nothing.” You said. How great of a lie it surely was, though you refused to blurt your confession aloud just yet.

An eyebrow raised, doubtful for your unconvincing reply, as a gentle grin teetered to the corner of his lips, and, oh, didn’t he look pretty. “C’mon,” He teased, “What’s up with you?” A finger jabbed to your side - an extraordinarily ticklish disposition for yourself - and you squirmed instinctively, a certain warmth engulfing your chest at the familiarity of that supple smirk.

“Really,” You persisted, “It’s nothing.” A breathy chuckle falling from upon your quiet tongue. “Have you tried that wine before?” You could confess your adoration for the poor man amidst the meal, though for now, it could wait.

“Uh-” He frowned, the quiver of a smile to trace his gaze.“No.” He said.

A subtle laugh dripped from your throat, gently shaking your head, as you mumbled a witty response. “Am I surprised, Jonathan?” To which he scoffed, his gorgeously depthful eyes rolling, and shone you a wickedly charming smile.

“Guess not.” He muttered, a beat of comfortable quiet to drift you both by. “You’re watching the News?” He then added, a furrow to draw his eyebrows closer; glance fluttered between yourself and the blare of the silenced television, projecting utter bullshit as it went - ever-the-regular, you could argue.

You simply nodded, “I am.” You said, somewhat a grin to upturn the crevices of your expression. A soft round of laughter fell from the man beside you, and you found your breath stuttered within the depth of your throat. It was an angelic muse, really, and thus you found yourself unable to conjure a furtherly coherent - never mind advanced - response, the simple two words proving enough for his bemused self.

“But you fucking hate the News.” He scoffed. “Why the hell are you watching it?”

A subtle giggle left your throat, and you snatched the lip of the bag before you, eager to indulge within the gorgeously scented - and warm - food. “Shut up, Johnny.” You said, a gentle smile to follow, “What’d you get?”

“I don’t know.” He smirked, “Somethin’ meaty, I think.”

“Of course,” You sighed, unable - quite - to dislodge the grin upon your rosy cheeks. “I mean, why would you know the pizza you ordered, right?”

“Precisely.” He smiled, “I’m thrilled you understand.”

“Always a pleasure.” You simply said, for your mind had distilled something blank, useless, and your words had seemed to fail you. The sofa was old, it was desperate, clinging on to the stitching hardly reliable, but it was comfortable. It was familiar. Johnny, and yourself, had refused to refurbish it - those cushions had been with you both, from the very first night. Roommates, you were. And simply the best kind. But there truly was something so tragic about a romantically tinted friendship, no matter for whom the sufferer seemed to be.

Johnny latched upon the large pizza box, throwing it open, and - unsurprisingly - knocking the wine glasses with a greatly shrill ring, their clink a subtle jump. They wobbled, slowly, though regained their posture, and you found your shoulders slumping to a tender slouch. “Idiot.” You muttered, a certain fondness about your breath, as he merely smirked, and picked up a stringy-cheesed slice, mauling the triangular corner with not but an ounce of grace.

A shimmer of grease coaxed the pout of his peachy lips, cheeks bulged with bread, and with toppings; over-loaded and particularly Johnny. Meats of various kinds - various shades - littered upon the excessive amounts of cheese. “Did you order extra cheese?” You mumbled. The man nodded, a wolfish grin to reciprocate his childish gaze, and you merely breathed a subtle chuckle. Of course, you thought; of course he did.

You reached for the wine, popping the cork with a slight groan, and you poured a tester within the clear glaze of the bowled glass. You raised the edge to your mouth, took a sip, and smacked your lips. “Not bad.” You uttered, decidedly enjoying the rich tang of fruity combustion, flat and coiling, upon your tongue. You poured the glass full, hardly a centimeter from the brim, and you took a rather large gulp, quite liking the flavour, as it trickled upon the back of your throat, and you sat back, nestled within the comfortable cushions of the wondrously aged sofa. It was almost moulded to your body; for you always sat on the right, and Johnny, the left.

A comfortable silence embraced you both, and you found yourself almost wishing it could remain undisturbed - you couldn’t find it in you, no matter how hard you probed, to conjure any kind of courage at all. Your knees, they felt weak, and your stomach churned uneasily - entirely disagreeing with the digested mouthful, as you rammed the corner of a pizza slice within your mouth, and you chewed slowly, cheeks beginning to rise in temperature. How the fuck would you even go about it all? ‘Oh, by the way, Johnny, I’m entirely in love with you, and I lose myself every time we touch!’ It sounded ridiculous. There was no possible way you could simply blurt out such a destructive sentence. You weren’t even sure if your feelings were real! They had just bothered you, and you feared that they’d somehow escape the breach of your lips, and flutter around, utterly unnoticed. Goodness, it was terrifying.

“You gonna tell me what’s wrong, or are we gonna sit here in silence?” Johnny said, a light amusement to simmer upon his tone. You gulped, swallowing a particularly dry mouthful, and your muscles seized up.

Surely this was the perfect opportunity, no? “Well…” You trailed. You did not want to ruin everything you’d worked so effortlessly to build with each other. Maybe you were just being silly, and your feelings were hardly potent at all. Maybe it was all dramatic, and you were fine. Maybe it was an exaggeration, and the entire thing was meaningless, and- “I think I’m in love with you.” You blurted. Fuck. Fuck, fucking fuck! Your eyes clamped shut, and you loathed the white noise. You could hope that he hadn’t heard you, though he wasn’t chewing, anymore, and he seemed suddenly rigid beside you. That was certainly a way to go about it, you scolded, wishing - with a burning detestation - that the sofa would swallow you whole.

Say something, you begged, silent, and to yourself, as the quiet continued on. He shifted, and you froze - furtherly, if apparently possible. You daren’t share a glance with his gaze, fixated upon your burning mortification, as another gentle bite snuck between your lips. You chewed, and you chewed, a soft shimmer of sweat beginning to accumulate upon your brow - how foolish you had been, to admit such a thing, in that kind of way. “What was that?” He muttered. Shit! His throat was tight, you could hear the subtle restriction, and tone low, quiet. Don’t make me say it again, you thought, a volumed gulp to follow such a ponderous moment. Please, don’t make me say it again.

“I’m sorry.” You sighed. Goodness, was it always supposed to be quite so difficult? Something began to wedge within the base of your throat, aching substantially, as the rising sensation of freshly salted tears began its ascent. Were you really going to cry? “I didn’t-” The voice caught in your throat, hindered by that ever-growing lump. God, you really hated this. “I didn’t mean to.” You didn’t mean to ruin your friendship, and everything in between, for a stupid confession that held you to the brink of fucking tears.

More shuffling was to be heard, and you noticed his hands swiftly maneuvering the - now closed - pizza box, delicately dropping the white board upon the coffee table, no longer perched between you, and him. His gaze burned upon your expression, and your cheeks flamed scarlet, glare locked unwaveringly upon the television, slightly glazed with something fearful. You truly didn’t want to lose him - to have him laugh in the face of your affection, and turn you away. And although you knew the let down would be gentle - it was Johnny, afterall, and there was hardly a bad bone in his body - you anticipated the worst. “Y/N,” He said.You gulped. A sigh escaped his lips, and he maneuvered the pizza slice from within your subtle grip, sneaking a quick bite as he went, and placed it quietly upon the table. “Y/N.” He tried again. You turned to face him, hesitant in yourself. His expression was gentle, the comforting kind of soft, and the corner of his lips lightly fluttered to the ghost of a smirk. “What are you crying for?” He scoffed, the grin simply growing as he spoke. “Don’t cry, Love.” You had hardly noticed the slip of a few salty confessions, as a soft laugh fell from your lips, hands roughly ragging upon the moist complexion. Pathetic, you thought, you were so fucking pathetic. “Come ‘ere.” He said. Your eyebrows drew together, glance unsure and lightly confused. He was so calm, and seemingly unphased by your confession - you couldn’t quite understand it.

He rolled his eyes, the tilt of amusement to pepper his cheeks, and he grasped your upper arm, dragging you along the short distance of the sofa. You slumped into his side, another giggle trickling from your tear-tangled throat, his arm engulfing you in a tight embrace; one along your shoulder, and the other curled upon your waist. You rested your head on his chest, the steady thrum of his heartbeat subtle and calming, and he shuffled about, gradually withholding a lying position, yourself flatly placed along his front. “I’m sorry.” You repeated, a light sigh to accompany the apology. You meant it, really, you did. It was never truly your intention to adapt to such feelings, to succumb to your attraction - he just made it so fucking difficult, with those beautifully brown orbs, and a smile filled with the brightest kinds of sunshine.

“Please don’t apologise.” He said. A short silence followed, and - perhaps it was simply an imaginational malfunction - you thought the rhythm of his heart rate differentiated, though only for a fleeting moment. “Did you mean it?” He whispered, tone soft; hesitant.

A gentle frown caressed the bow of your expression, and you tilted such to face him, his features crossed handsomely with a sense of slight worry. Of course you had meant it - why on earth would you lie for such a thing? “Yeah.” You said. His gaze flickered between your eyes, a whir of doubt embracing the warm stare, and his tender wrap upon your frame squeezed for a passing moment. The hint of a smile glazed his orbs, a certain light suddenly rupturing within their mocha tone, and the corners of his mouth twitched a feathered smirk.

“Oh, yeah?” He said.

Your eyes rolled, seemingly still slightly dampened by your emotional concern. “Yes, Johnny.” You said.

“Ah, right,” He muttered, grin widening to that of something toothy, and warm. “See, I thought I was going crazy.” He craned his neck to the slightest degree, gaze dropping momentarily to your parted lips, before springing back up, a twinkle of mischief to glaze his eyes. “I thought,” His tongue darted gently, dampening the flush of his lips, and you found yourself staring with a tingle of a blush - God. Your thighs began to ache, camped tightly together, at such a marvellous sight. “There’s no fucking way,” He continued, slowly, as his tone simmered to that of a tender whisper. “That the most beautiful girl I’ve ever known, could fall in love with me.”

Beautiful. Beautiful, he had said. Beautiful! He thought you were beautiful! Your heart stuttered, and a furrow found your eyebrows, consciously aware of the circular trail, lightly peppered upon your waist by his wandering fingers.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You said, a mere mumble beneath your gaze of adoration and concern. What was wrong with loving him?

A breathy laugh escaped his lips, the simmer of amusement and amorous repentance dancing within his stare. “Well, why me?” He said, “You could choose anyone.” He shrugged, “Kenny, from that corner store. Andrew - you know, Andy, the one that makes the cakes all the time?” You merely nodded, albeit speechless as to his rambling. “And what about Louis? The flower guy?” You raised an eyebrow, “You could take any of ‘em. You got a choice. So why pick me?” Why wouldn’t it be him? Why would it be anybody else? You couldn’t quite understand his doubts, as you adjusted your positioning, and leaned up ever-so-slightly, with great attempt to level your shared beam. Surely he wasn’t feeling insecure, he had no reason to, after all - none that you had given him, that is.

“Don’t start that.” You said, “I wouldn’t want anybody else.”

“Oh, yeah?” He asked, an eyebrow raised, “And why’s that, Love?” He was teasing you, you could ensure, though you felt little resistance to fall within such bait.

“I wouldn’t want anyone else, because,” He glanced feverishly to your mouth, and the words seemed to pause, caught briefly within your throat. His gaze returned to yours, his smirk filtrated with some kind of newfound arrogance, and, my, didn’t it look devilishly handsome on him.

“Because what, Deary?” He said, a sudden dark swirl to his tone. It was rich, nauseatingly good.

“Because I want you.” You said. “And I’ve always wanted you.”

Though your fear found itself wretched, stammering doubts of rejection within your conscience, you supposed there was just no going back from that. And you didn’t truly believe you wanted to.

A glimmer of something heartily mischievous eloped within his gaze, “In what way?” He humoured, a slow smile beginning to trace the very corners of his wondrously entrancing lips. You paused, a moment of silence, and wondered whether you could dare to be as graciously brave as your protruding thoughts were starting to grow.

Your tone fell to something quiet - low. “In any way you’ll let me.” You said. And, oh, it had you aching, the way those delectably beautiful eyes darkened, and a pepper of thickening quiet settled between the two of you.

Johnny’s mouth opened, the breach of something verbal threatening to fall from the gasp, though nothing came out, and he closed it, instead. His breathing stammered, you dared to notice, and you felt almost ill, bereft with the simplicity of your want, your need, for his emotional acceptance. “I see.” He said, somewhat breathless, and entirely succumbed with - what you depicted, perhaps foolishly, to be - love. You felt something rise, flutter, within the depth of your digestion - almost drabbled with such pride, that you could affect him in any which way. A grin engulfed his expression, once more, and elated the darkness, clouding his chestnut orbs in a magnificent kind of way, as one hand crawled up from upon your waist, and clasped the curve of your blushed cheek. His calloused thumb traced a thing of gentle affection, stroking the soft complexion in a timid manner, and that flock of butterflies found themselves satisfied with their numbingly strong fluttering, crawling upon your skin in a matter of nerves and anxiousness. “Well,” He spoke, glancing adoringly between your eyes. From one to the other, as though he couldn’t quite believe you to be smitten within his hold, reciprocating his feelings so endlessly. The warmth of his adorning breath fanned the supple part of your gaped lips, expectant; waiting. “Best go put on your shoes, then, aye?” He whispered.

And with that, he was gone. Hoisting you up, as he stumbled to his feet, and his expression elated a smile. He squeezed twice on your shoulders, humoured by such a frown, and he swooped down to collect his jacket from the floor. “Go on,” He said, “We’re off on a walk.”

“We are?” You echoed, a slight distance woven within your tone.

Johnny smiled, “We are, Love.” He said, and he barreled himself through the arms of his coat.

You paused, be it only a moment, as gentle tufts of hair drifted upon his forehead, and he brushed them back, a toothy grin etched upon his face. He stretched up, an arch to his back, and muttered a; “Go on! It’s raining, you’ll get your feet wet if you don’t.” With a hustle, and a small shove to your shoulders.

Frowning, you found your feet drifting you to the corner of the room - he’d gone mad. It was decided. Though, perhaps, you thought; you were just as crazy as he. For why else would you slip on your shoes, and throw on a jacket, hanging up on the wall hooks? Without another thought of hesitation, you shoved it all on, and you regained your full height, a little breathless - unfortunately so - and met the uneven smirk that was utterly Johnny’s.

He clapped his hands together, a soft connection, and rubbed them slightly, bounding to the door before you both, and swinging open the darkened oak. Neither you, nor he, bothered to dismantle the blaring illuminant that was the television, as he awaited the passing breeze of yourself.

You wandered him by, mind a whir of incoherent thoughts, though one - one in particular - stood out, among the others. He hadn’t said it back.

The weight of his arm, curled around the crease of your shoulders, brought you away from such a thought, and you had hardly noticed the few tender steps you had traced. “You smell nice.” Johnny said, a slight smile to his tone, “Fruity.” You merely grinned something small, and rolled your eyes. Ever the strange one.

“You’re sure you haven’t had any of that wine before?” You jested, “On the way over, perhaps?”

He smiled, something soft, as his free hand fumbled within his depthful pocket, and his gaze found his shoes. “The cheap stuff gives me indigestion.” He smirked, “Didn’t want the heartburn.”

“Ah,” You breathed, “I suppose that does make sense.”

You approached the stairwell, poised to the end of the depressingly dim hallway, and watched as he bounced upon every step, no longer wedged beside you, but rather bounding upon the echoing chorus of the descending metal. His hair, naturally dried from a drizzle of cooling rain, flowed - up, and down - in a majestic kind of motion, as a subtle giggle fell from you, and your legs maneuvered a slight jog, to catch up with his waiting frame.

He stood, slick with a grin, at the door, his arm a barricade upon its weight, as you muttered a curt thanks, and you stumbled into the waft of approaching crisp. The winter chill embraced your figure - a sudden movement, as it trailed from your toes, to your hips, to your finger-tips, and your nose - and you draped your hands within the depthful pockets of your dark coat. You shuddered - Heavens, was it freezing - and you clenched your jaw, spat with a sprinkle of dainted moisture, as the clouds shed their supple solemness.

“It’s beautiful, don’t you think?” Johnny muttered, striding to that of a similar pace, as his hands, too, found the inner comfort of his pockets, and his arm brushed with yours. You warmed at the touch, though not by much, and you simply assumed it was all in your head, dismissive for the sudden heat. “The night.” He continued. “There’s just something about it.”

You turned, gaze fixated upon the gorgeous glow of his sculpted features, contorted with a content smile, orbs fluttered upon the scenery before you both, unmoving, and entirely comfortable. Happy, you dared to notice. And as were you. “I know what you mean.” You mumbled, a saddened grin to quiver upon the corners of your lips, though you simply couldn’t force it’s obtain, as it fell, and your eyes found the floor. He hadn’t said it back.

“It’s like-” He paused, tongue winding upon his lips, and his eyebrows furrowed momentarily. “It’s like the whole world is asleep.” He smiled. “It’s not, but it feels less… Alive.”

You breathed a gentle laugh. “Like it’s only you.” You mumbled, “Without the pressure, and the judgement.” There was a subtle nod, as he brushed the fallen hair from within his vision.

“I know how to be myself, when the moon’s my only company, y’know?” He admitted, nibbling the tender flesh of his lower lip, as his gaze darted, between the street, to the tree, to the housing scattered around. “Like whatever happens, under the stars, it-” He paused, he let out a breathy chuckle, and continued: “It won’t matter in the morning.” You simply nodded, as he opened his mouth, a stuttered mumble falling from his tongue, and your silence remained, for you knew he was not quite finished. “I just- I-” He paused, another shaky exhale, and your eyebrows furrowed. He scratched the lower-crown of his hair, ruffling it, slightly, with a nervous chuckle. “I don’t want-” He frowned, gulping, and continued: “I don’t want tonight to be one of those nights.”

Your furrow seemed to deepen, the words falling before you found yourself able to grapple them. “What do you mean?” You mumbled, a gentle cloud upon the frozen nightlife.

“Look, I think-” He sighed, pausing mid-step, and standing, amidst the weighted rain, as it grew heavier, and you simply grew wetter. You paused, expression contorted with a slight confusion, dribbled with copious droplets that you didn’t bother to brush away. “I think I could dote on the darkness, forever and a day.” He said, and you frowned. You wondered just quite where he was going with such, though failed to interrupt his continuance, as he spoke, soft, among the patterning rainfall, draping upon the concrete with a rhythmic dance. “But it’s not-” He caught himself, one more, as another nervous laugh trickled from his dampened lips. Verbal gold, it surely was. “None of it - it’s not- it’s not as, uh, captivating, as you.”

Your chest fell woozy with a supple ache, furrow one of grave compassion, and he glanced, hesitantly, with a curt removal, to your expression. You smiled, a glaze of sorrow melting from upon those amorous features. Captivating. He thought you were captivating. “And I think you- uhm-” He coughed, a slight smile to catch the corner of his lips. “I think you taught me to love, again.” He mumbled, head-up tilted, as his warm, genuine, gaze, infiltrated your own.

“Oh?” You grinned, truthfully unable to rupture the flutter of great tingles, encasing your shivering complexion - a certain warmth cursing throughout your frozen blood.

He laughed, a glance of something shy to his shoes, and he nodded. “Yeah.” He mumbled, returning to meet your joyous expression. “And I think I’d like to dote on you, instead.”

“In what way?” You muttered, mocking for his previously sly commentary, a gratuitous - particularly brazen - step closer, to the grinning man, as his hands, slightly coaxed by a pink chill, from the breeze of winter's embrace, draped upon the clothed fabric of your hips.

He drew a step closer, your shoes toe to toe, and he spoke - dangerously low; nauseatingly rich. “In any way you’ll let me.” He smirked. And, well, that seemed quite enough for you.

There was a certain warmth about it - the capture of your supple lips upon the soft flesh of his own, molded wondrously to a hymn the Angels could never know. Eyes fluttered to a gentle close, engulfed with a sprinkle of vanishing warmth; the rain no longer seemed to matter. For you were clothed, slick like a second skin, in the thick moisture of everlasting water - wet, to the very bone - but no longer did you shiver, no longer did you tremble, with the ache of a chilling night. The pressure was timid, and the exploration a motion utterly anew - yet so beautifully divine, so entirely right.

Your fingers - pink, and bitterly numb, in themselves - wove to clutch upon the lapels of his cotton jacket, a clutch of passion, and of longing, to emancipate the wondrous flutter in the depth of your gut. It twisted, it turned, it ached, it shrieked - you felt ill. Ill with the fever of amorous recipricance and a lover so sickly sweet, you felt you’d awake with cavities, in the later morn. You liked that thought, as your head tilted, be it only slight, to the side, and he followed your subtle retreat. Like honey, did he taste; like gold, did he display. And, oh, if this was love - if this, two lovers combined amongst the ache of winter’s cue - you decided that it was, undoubtedly, real. It was real, not a mere description of romanticised fiction. No. No; it was the golden sunlight, woven between your very hands; it was the melody of the birds, so suppley sweet; the dew upon the whispered grass, a lick of crisped morning; the enticing ferociousness of the oceanic waves, an azure of alluring power; the liquid gold, to drip from a Poet’s pen, woven beneath the tongue of their romantic thoughts - Oh, it were all that, and more. So much more.

And, as his feeble smile fluctuated upon his bowed lips, and his fragile hold - something so gentle, upon the flush of your frozen cheek, you hardly noticed the grace of movement, thumb brushed beneath your fluttered eyes - draped across your features, you found yourself discovering all that it ever could be.

His tongue, though warm, and tender, slithered something slow upon the breach of your lower lip, and your cheeks furrowed a blossoming grin. Parting your lips, subtly, you allowed the delicate invasion of a gratifying, sweet, pressure, as the flesh ran along the side of your tongue, and you encased it within a frail suck, withdrawing from such an entanglement for hardly a moment. You inhaled a particularly deep breath, unfinished and wondrously interrupted, as his lips found yours once more, a collision of teeth, and of grinning hearts, and he craned upon your stature, a barricade to crawl along the base of your lower back. The soft slosh of clapped fabric wove amongst the rainfall, and a breathy chuckle harmonized from upon your lips, himself ridden with a gorgeous grin; chest-to-chest, with a kind of warmth you had never before known cursing throughout the very complexion that was your own, as your bodies collided, and his strength held you close.

You inhaled the scent, familiar, though certainly different, and it tingled the depth of your nostrils - like woodland, and a subtle cologne. It seemed raw, so ravenously close, and your lips twitched upward at the thought. Oh, how you loved him. It ached your smitten chest, as he moulded his lips upon your own, and your movement harmonized something bitterly perfect, and it combusted among your soul. It tore the very sense you once held, from within your capacity, and it brushed such necessity beneath the carpet; for what was sense to a girl in love?

Nothing. All that made sense was him - was he - and you yearned to know it all; every crevice, every dent, for the rest of your days. Forever seemed a long time, though life so awfully short. To spend forever, a faux illusion of endless measures, by his side - it spread a warmth, such burning heat, throughout your tender frame, and you ached to know the script of every moment spent together, all until every moment were merely a memory, with nothing left to come.

His feathered affection fell to a tender null, a lingering pause to disperse upon the gape of your swollen mouth, and he draped a peppered peck upon the very corner, withdrawing from such an intertwined proximity. You fluttered your gaze to meet his own - a stare of saturated honey; of every nightfall; of every poetic tale - and he smiled. A smile, so incredibly warm, you found yourself unable to withhold the reciprocance, as a timid blush crawled upon the complexion of your grinning features, and your eyes retained their strengthful embrace.

For the bitter breeze had returned, and your lips were falling cold, but it didn’t matter. None of it mattered - not the howl of brash wind, curling within your locks, and whipping the hood of your coat; the ache of layered rain, as it pattered, continually, upon the distilled world around; the treacherous ache of all things nauseatingly woozy, engulfing your frame in an intensely warm ambiguity - unfamiliar, though entirely welcome. None of it mattered - not as you drowned within the softness of his adoring gaze.

Adoring, you thought; oh, did he adore you? “I love you.” He mumbled, a quiet crackle upon the pattern of rain, though you caught it - oh, did you catch it, clutched within the fragile hold of your softened heart, ached with the pressure of convicting ribs, it cried for freedom, for home; for Johnny. A smile, so genuine, so utterly enticed; joyous, draped upon your lips, and the corners of your glimmering eyes fell to a crease. He loved you. He breathed a gentle chuckle, soggy arms curled upon that of your shoulders, as he drew you close - so unimaginably close - and he clutched your warmth upon his own. “God,” He breathed, his cheek slumped upon the crown of your head, down-tilted, and soaked with the cold of splattered rain. “I love you.”

Arms draped across his middle, clutched upon his lower back - you ached from the cold, though you minded it not - as you smiled, and you breathed the only response you felt acceptable. “I know.” You said.

“And I’ll give you the sun.” He continued, a mere rumble upon the quiet noise. “Indulge me, and I’ll give you the sun, ray, by fucking ray.”

Oh, how you ached for such sonerous truth - for you knew he would never lie to you.

#johnny depp #johnny depp x reader #jd x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #fan fiction #fan fic #young johnny depp #johnny depp fanfiction #aw #they do be cute

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faraway-wanderer · 4 years ago

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BOOKS BY ASIAN AUTHORS MASTERLIST #stopasianhate

In light of recent events and the growing anti- Asian hate in the US and UK over the course of the pandemic I wanted to put together a masterlist of books by Asian authors. Obviously, it’s not extensive and there are HUNDREDS out there, but supporting art by Asian creators is a way of showing support; read their stories, educate ourselves. It goes without saying that we should all be putting effort into reading stories of POC and by POC because even through fiction we’re learning about different cultures, countries and heritages. So here’s some books to start with by Asian authors!

Here is a link also for resources to educate and petitions to sign (especially if you don’t read haha). It’s important that we educate ourselves and uplift Asian voices right now. Your anti-racism has to include every minority that faces it.

https://anti-asianviolenceresources.carrd.co/

for UK peeps, this is a good read: We may not hear about the anti Asian racism happening here, but it is definitely happening. https://www.harpersbazaar.com/uk/culture/culture-news/a35692226/its-time-we-stopped-downplaying-the-uks-anti-asian-racism/

THE BOOKS:

· War Cross- Marie Lu ( the worldbuilding in this is IMMENSE.)

For the millions who log in every day, Warcross isn’t just a game—it’s a way of life. The obsession started ten years ago and its fan base now spans the globe, some eager to escape from reality and others hoping to make a profit.

· Star Daughter- Shveta Thakrar

A beautiful story about a girl who is half human and half star, and she must go to the celestial court to try to save her father after he has fallen ill. And before she knows it, she is taking part in a magical competition that she must win!

· These Violent Delights- Chloe Gong (I told my little sister to read this book yesterday bc she has a thing for a Leo as Romeo- so if you want deadly good looking Romeos, badass Juliet’s and to learn about 1920s Shanghai- this is for you.)

The year is 1926, and Shanghai hums to the tune of debauchery. A blood feud between two gangs runs the streets red, leaving the city helpless in the grip of chaos. A Romeo and Juliet retelling.

· The Poppy War- R.F Kuang (My fave fantasy series just fyi- it’s soul crushing in the best way. Rebecca Kuang is a god of an author).

A brilliantly imaginative talent makes her exciting debut with this epic historical military fantasy, inspired by the bloody history of China’s twentieth century and filled with treachery and magic, in the tradition of Ken Liu’s Grace of Kings and N.K. Jemisin’s Inheritance Trilogy.

· Loveboat Taipei- Abigail Hing Wen (Really heartwarming and insightful!)

When eighteen-year-old Ever Wong’s parents send her from Ohio to Taiwan to study Mandarin for the summer, she finds herself thrust among the very over-achieving kids her parents have always wanted her to be, including Rick Woo, the Yale-bound prodigy profiled in the Chinese newspapers since they were nine—and her parents’ yardstick for her never-measuring-up life.

· Sorcerer to the Crown- Zen Cho (if anyone is looking for another Howl’s Moving Castle, look no further than this book)

At his wit’s end, Zacharias Wythe, freed slave, eminently proficient magician, and Sorcerer Royal of the Unnatural Philosophers—one of the most respected organizations throughout all of Britain—ventures to the border of Fairyland to discover why England’s magical stocks are drying up.

· Emergency Contact- Mary H.K. Choi (very wholesome and fun rom-com!)

For Penny Lee high school was a total nonevent. When she heads to college in Austin, Texas, to learn how to become a writer, it’s seventy-nine miles and a zillion light years away from everything she can’t wait to leave behind.

· Jade City- Fonda Lee (I am reading this currently and can I just say- I think everyone who loves fantasy and blood feuds in a story should read this.)

JADE CITY is a gripping Godfather-esque saga of intergenerational blood feuds, vicious politics, magic, and kungfu. The Kaul family is one of two crime syndicates that control the island of Kekon. It's the only place in the world that produces rare magical jade, which grants those with the right training and heritage superhuman abilities.

· A Pho Love Story- Loan Le

When Dimple Met Rishi meets Ugly Delicious in this funny, smart romantic comedy, in which two Vietnamese-American teens fall in love and must navigate their newfound relationship amid their families’ age-old feud about their competing, neighbouring restaurants.

· Rebelwing- Andrea Tang

Business is booming for Prudence Wu. A black-market-media smuggler and scholarship student at the prestigious New Columbia Preparatory Academy, Pru is lucky to live in the Barricade Coalition where she is free to study, read, watch, and listen to whatever she wants.

· Wings of the Locust- Joel Donato Ching Jacob

Tuan escapes his mundane and mediocre existence when he is apprenticed to Muhen, a charming barangay wiseman. But, as he delves deeper into the craft of a mambabarang and its applications in espionage, sabotage and assassination, the young apprentice is overcome by conflicting emotions that cause him to question his new life.

· The Travelling Cat Chronicles- Hiro Arikawa

Sometimes you have to leave behind everything you know to find the place you truly belong...

Nana the cat is on a road trip. He is not sure where he's going or why, but it means that he gets to sit in the front seat of a silver van with his beloved owner, Satoru.

· Super Fake Love Song- David Yoon

From the bestselling author of Frankly in Love comes a contemporary YA rom-com where a case of mistaken identity kicks off a string of (fake) events that just may lead to (real) love.

· Parachutes- Kelly Yang

Speak enters the world of Gossip Girl in this modern immigrant story from New York Times bestselling author Kelly Yang about two girls navigating wealth, power, friendship, and trauma.

· The Grace of Kings- Ken Liu ( One of the Time 100 Best Fantasy Books Of All Time!)

Two men rebel together against tyranny—and then become rivals—in this first sweeping book of an epic fantasy series from Ken Liu, recipient of Hugo, Nebula, and World Fantasy awards.

· Wicked Fox- Kat Cho

A fresh and addictive fantasy-romance set in modern-day Seoul.

· Descendant of the Crane- Joan He

In this shimmering Chinese-inspired fantasy, debut author Joan He introduces a determined and vulnerable young heroine struggling to do right in a world brimming with deception.

· Pachinko- Min Jin Lee

Richly told and profoundly moving, Pachinko is a story of love, sacrifice, ambition, and loyalty. From bustling street markets to the halls of Japan's finest universities to the pachinko parlors of the criminal underworld, Lee's complex and passionate characters--strong, stubborn women, devoted sisters and sons, fathers shaken by moral crisis--survive and thrive against the indifferent arc of history.

· America is in the Heart- Carlos Bulosan

First published in 1946, this autobiography of the well known Filipino poet describes his boyhood in the Philippines, his voyage to America, and his years of hardship and despair as an itinerant laborer following the harvest trail in the rural West.

· Days of Distraction- Alexandra Chang

A wry, tender portrait of a young woman — finally free to decide her own path, but unsure if she knows herself well enough to choose wisely—from a captivating new literary voice.

· The Astonishing Colour of After Emily X.R Pan

Alternating between real and magic, past and present, friendship and romance, hope and despair, The Astonishing Color of After is a novel about finding oneself through family history, art, grief, and love.

· The Gilded Wolves- Roshani Chokshi

It's 1889. The city is on the cusp of industry and power, and the Exposition Universelle has breathed new life into the streets and dredged up ancient secrets. Here, no one keeps tabs on dark truths better than treasure-hunter and wealthy hotelier Séverin Montagnet-Alarie. When the elite, ever-powerful Order of Babel coerces him to help them on a mission, Séverin is offered a treasure that he never imagined: his true inheritance.

· When Dimple met Rishi- Sandhya Menon

Dimple and Rishi may think they have each other figured out. But when opposites clash, love works hard to prove itself in the most unexpected ways.

· On Earth we’re briefly Gorgeous- Ocean Vuong

Poet Ocean Vuong's debut novel is a shattering portrait of a family, a first love, and the redemptive power of storytelling.

· Fierce Fairytales- Nikita Gill

Complete with beautifully hand-drawn illustrations by Gill herself, Fierce Fairytales is an empowering collection of poems and stories for a new generation.

BOOKS BEING RELEASED LATER THIS YEAR TO PREORDER:

· Counting down with you- Tashie Bhuiyan- 4th May

A reserved Bangladeshi teenager has twenty-eight days to make the biggest decision of her life after agreeing to fake date her school’s resident bad boy.

How do you make one month last a lifetime?

· Gearbreakers- Zoe Hana Mikuta- June 29th

Two girls on opposite sides of a war discover they're fighting for a common purpose--and falling for each other--in Zoe Hana Mikuta's high-octane debut Gearbreakers, perfect for fans of Pacific Rim, Pierce Brown's Red Rising Saga, and Marie Lu's Legend series

· XOXO- Axie Oh- 13th July

When a relationship means throwing Jenny’s life off the path she’s spent years mapping out, she’ll have to decide once and for all just how much she’s willing to risk for love.

· She who became the sun- Shelley Parker-Chan- 20th July

Mulan meets The Song of Achilles in Shelley Parker-Chan's She Who Became the Sun, a bold, queer, and lyrical reimagining of the rise of the founding emperor of the Ming Dynasty from an amazing new voice in literary fantasy.

· Jade Fire Gold- June C.L Tan- October 12th

Keep sharing, signing petitions and donating where you can. The more people who are actively anti-racist, the better. And if your anti-racism doesn’t include the Asian community then go and educate yourself! BLM wasn’t a trend and neither is this. We have to stand up against white supremacy, and racism and stereotypes and we have to support the communities that need our support. Part of that can include cultivating your reading so you’re reading more diversely and challenging any stereotypes western society may have given you.

Feel free to reblog and add any more recommendations and resources of course!

#stopasianhate #books by asian authors #anti racism #i'm so sickened by everything that's happening and i hope that this list does encourage people to read books by asian authors!!!#ya #poc authors #fiction #i haven't all of these yet #asian writers #asian authors #masterlist #antiasianracism

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shewhoworshipscarlin · 4 years ago

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Bert Williams

Bert Williams (November 12, 1874 – March 4, 1922) was a Bahamian-born American entertainer, one of the pre-eminent entertainers of the Vaudeville era and one of the most popular comedians for all audiences of his time. He is credited as being the first black man to have the leading role in a film: Darktown Jubilee in 1914.[2]

He was by far the best-selling black recording artist before 1920. In 1918, the New York Dramatic Mirror called Williams "one of the great comedians of the world."

Williams was a key figure in the development of African-American entertainment. In an age when racial inequality and stereotyping were commonplace, he became the first black American to take a lead role on the Broadway stage, and did much to push back racial barriers during his three-decade-long career. Fellow vaudevillian W. C. Fields, who appeared in productions with Williams, described him as "the funniest man I ever saw—and the saddest man I ever knew."

Williams was born in Nassau, The Bahamas, on November 12, 1874, to Frederick Williams Jr. and his wife Julia. At the age of 11, Bert permanently emigrated with his parents, moving to Florida in the United States. The family soon moved to Riverside, California, where he graduated from Riverside High School in 1892. In 1893, while still a teenager, he joined different West Coast minstrel shows, including Martin and Selig's Mastodon Minstrels in San Francisco, where he first met his future professional partner, George Walker.

He and Walker performed song-and-dance numbers, comic dialogues and skits, and humorous songs. They fell into stereotypical vaudevillian roles: originally Williams portrayed a slick conniver, while Walker played the "dumb coon" victim of Williams' schemes. But they soon discovered that they got a better reaction by switching roles and subverting expectations. The sharp-featured and slender Walker eventually developed a persona as a strutting dandy, while the stocky Williams played the languorous oaf. Despite his thickset physique, Williams was a master of body language and physical "stage business." A New York Times reviewer wrote: "He holds a face for minutes at a time, seemingly, and when he alters it, bring[s] a laugh by the least movement."

In late 1896, the pair were added to The Gold Bug, a struggling musical. The show did not survive, but Williams & Walker got good reviews, and were able to secure higher profile bookings. They headlined the Koster and Bial's vaudeville house for 36 weeks in 1896–97, where their spirited version of the cakewalk helped popularize the dance. The pair performed in burnt-cork blackface, as was customary at the time, billing themselves as "Two Real Coons" to distinguish their act from the many white minstrels also performing in blackface. Williams also made his first recordings in 1896, but none are known to survive. They participated in a "Benefit for New York's Poor" held on February 9, 1897 at the Metropolitan Opera House, their only appearance at that theater.

While playing off the "coon" formula, Williams & Walker's act and demeanor subtly undermined it as well. Camille Forbes wrote, "They called into question the possible realness of blackface performers who only emphasized their artificiality by recourse to burnt cork; after all, Williams did not really need the burnt cork to be black," despite his lighter skin complexion. He would pull on a wig full of kinky hair in order to help conceal his wavy hair. Terry Waldo also noted the layered irony in their cakewalk routine, which presented them as mainstream blacks performing a dance in a way that lampooned whites who'd mocked a black dance that originally satirized plantation whites' ostentatiously fussy mannerisms. The pair also made sure to present themselves as immaculately groomed and classily dressed in their publicity photos, which were used for advertising and on the covers of sheet music promoting their songs. In this way, they drew a contrast between their real-life comportment and the comical characters they portrayed onstage. However, this aspect of their act was ambiguous enough that some black newspapers still criticized the duo for failing to uplift the dignity of their race.

In 1899, Williams surprised his partner George Walker and his family when he announced he had recently married Charlotte ("Lottie") Thompson, a singer with whom he had worked professionally, in a very private ceremony. Lottie was a widow eight years Bert's senior. Thus, the match seemed odd to some who knew the gregarious and constantly traveling Williams, but all who knew them considered them a uniquely happy couple, and the union lasted until his death. The Williamses never had children biologically, but they adopted and reared three of Lottie's nieces. They also frequently sheltered orphans and foster children in their homes.

Williams & Walker appeared in a succession of shows, including A Senegambian Carnival, A Lucky Coon, and The Policy Players. Their stars were on the ascent, but they still faced vivid reminders of the limits placed on them by white society. In August 1900, in New York City, hysterical rumors of a white detective having been shot by a black man erupted into an uncontained riot. Unaware of the street violence, Williams & Walker left their theater after a performance and parted ways. Williams headed off in a fortunate direction, but Walker was yanked from a streetcar by a white mob and was beaten.

The duo's international success established them as the most visible black performers in the world. They hoped to parlay this renown into a new, more elaborate and costly stage production, to be shown in the top-flight theaters. Williams and Walker's management team balked at the expense of this project, then sued the pair to prevent them from securing outside investors or representation. Filings in the suit revealed that each member of the team had earned approximately $120,000 from 1902 to 1904, or $3.5 million apiece in 2019 dollars. The lawsuit was unsuccessful, and Williams and Walker accepted an offer from Hammerstein's Victoria Theatre, the premiere vaudeville house in New York. A white Southern monologist objected to the integrated bill, but the show went ahead with Williams and Walker and without the objector.

In February 1906, Abyssinia, with a score co-written by Williams, premiered at the Majestic Theater. The show, which included live camels, was another smash. Aspects of the production continued the duo's cagey steps toward greater creative pride and freedom for black performers. The nation of Abyssinia (now Ethiopia) was the only African nation to remain sovereign during European colonization, repelling Italy's attempts at control in 1896. The show also included inklings of a love story, something that had never been tolerated in a black stage production before. Walker played a Kansas tourist while his wife, Aida, portrayed an Abyssinian princess. A scene between the two of them, while comic, presented Walker as a nervous suitor.

While the show was praised, many white critics were uncomfortable or uncertain about its cast's ambitions. One critic declared that audiences "do not care to see their own ways copied when they can have the real thing better done by white people," while the New York Evening Post thought the score "is at times too elaborate for them and a return to the plantation melodies would be a great improvement upon the 'grand opera' type, for which they are not suited either by temperament or by education." The Chicago Tribune remarked, disapprovingly, "there is hardly a trace of negroism in the play." George Walker was unbowed, telling the Toledo Bee, "It's all rot, this slapstick bandanna handkerchief bladder in the face act, with which negro acting is associated. It ought to die out and we are trying to kill it." Though the flashier Walker rarely had qualms about opposing the racial prejudice and limitations of the day, the more introspective and brooding Williams internalized his feelings.

In 1908, while starring in the successful Broadway production Bandanna Land, Williams and Walker were asked to appear at a charity benefit by George M. Cohan. Walter C. Kelly, a prominent monologist, protested and encouraged the other acts to withdraw from the show rather than appear alongside black performers; only two of the acts joined Kelly's boycott.

Bandanna Land continued the duo's series of hits and introduced a tour de force sketch that soon Williams made famous: his pantomime poker game. In total silence, Williams acted out a hand of poker, with only his facial expressions and body language conveying the dealer's up-and-down emotions as he considered his hand, reacted to the unseen actions of his invisible opponents, and weighed the pros and cons of raising or calling the bet. It later became a standard routine in his solo stage act, and was recorded on film by Biograph Studios in 1916.

Walker was in ill health by this point due to syphilis, which was then incurable. In January 1909 he suffered a stroke onstage while singing, and was forced to drop out of Bandanna Land the following month. The famous pair never performed in public again, and Walker died less than two years later. Walker had been the businessman and public spokesman for the duo. His absence left Williams professionally adrift.

After 16 years as half of a duo, Williams needed to reestablish himself as a solo act. In May 1909 he returned to Hammerstein's Victoria Theater and the high-class vaudeville circuit. His new act consisted of several songs, comic monologues in dialect, and a concluding dance. He received top billing and a high salary, but the White Rats of America, an organization of vaudevillians opposed to encroachments from blacks and women, intimidated the theater managers into reducing Williams' billing. The brash Walker would have resisted such an insult to his star status, but the more reserved Williams did not protest. Allies were few; big-time vaudeville managers were fearful of attracting a disproportionate number of black audience members and thus allowed only one black act per bill. Due to his ethnicity, Williams typically was forced to travel, eat and lodge separately from the rest of his fellow performers, increasing his sense of isolation following the loss of Walker.

In 1910, Booker T. Washington wrote of Williams: "He has done more for our race than I have. He has smiled his way into people's hearts; I have been obliged to fight my way." Gene Buck, who had discovered W. C. Fields in vaudeville and hired him for the Follies, wrote to a friend on the occasion of Fields' death: "Next to Bert Williams, Bill [Fields] was the greatest comic that ever lived."

Williams' stage career lagged after his final Follies appearance in 1919. His name was enough to open a show, but they had shorter, less profitable runs. In December 1921, Under the Bamboo Tree opened, to middling results. Williams still got good reviews, but the show did not. Williams developed pneumonia, but did not want to miss performances, knowing that he was the only thing keeping an otherwise moribund musical alive at the box office. However, Williams also emotionally suffered from the racial politics of the era, and did not feel fully accepted. He experienced almost chronic depression in his later years, coupled with alcoholism and insomnia.

On February 27, 1922, Williams collapsed during a performance in Detroit, Michigan, which the audience initially thought was a comic bit. Helped to his dressing room, Williams quipped, "That's a nice way to die. They was laughing when I made my last exit." He returned to New York, but his health worsened. He died at his home, 2309 Seventh Avenue in Manhattan, New York City on March 4, 1922 at the age of 47. Few had suspected that he was sick, and news of his death came as a public shock. More than 5,000 fans filed past his casket, and thousands more were turned away. A private service was held at the Masonic Lodge in Manhattan, where Williams broke his last barrier. He was the first black American to be so honored by the all-white Grand Lodge. When the Masons opened their doors for a public service, nearly 2,000 mourners of both races were admitted. Williams was buried in Woodlawn Cemetery in The Bronx, New York City.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bert_Williams

#historical #actor #vaudeville #black history month #comedian

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bluebellravenbooks · 4 years ago

Text

A Great Distraction Masterpost

January has been gloomy as heck, so I thought it may be a good idea to put together a list of things that I read/watched/played since the beginning of the pandemic that managed to keep my mind off things. (I'm a doctoral student with anxiety and a 5-second attention span, so if this worked for me chances are it's Good Stuff.) Hope this helps!

Steven Universe

Set millennia after a kinda-failed alien invasion, this is a story of a half-human protagonist with a big heart who has to deal with the consequences of this long-ago war and learn what it means to be human.

The trope of a peacekeeper hero, excellently executed. Goes from cute to cute and rather dark, but still hopeful. Nice songs, lovely animation, interesting characters; you can tell that the storytelling goes from the hearts of the people who made this. This is a generally uplifting story; however it does have some discussion of war, mental illness and parental death, so tw for that. Also depending on where you live, this may be a bit difficult to track down across the streaming services... That said, this is undoubtedly one of the best shows I have ever watched.

Hollow Knight

You are a tiny badass with a sword and a mysterious past, travelling across a derelict kingdom and trying to make sense of what happened to it. And the more you learn, the more you suspect that you are here for a reason...

A 2D platformer game, doesn't require anything fancy from your laptop - not even a mouse. Previous gaming experience not necessary either. Beautiful visuals (I mean it!), a huge world to explore; exasperatingly difficult, which makes for a great distraction. I do have to warn that the plot of this game revolves around an infection, although it's not very reminiscent of Covid. As a plus, you get to kick its ass in the end!

Avatar: The Last Airbender

Four great nations are at war - have been for some time, actually, and things aren't looking great. The discovery of the Avatar - the peacekeeper with abilities from all the nations - offers a glimmer of hope; however it doesn't help that the Avatar is eleven years old and has spent the last century frozen in an iceberg.

Truly, a classic. I love the trope of the peacekeeper hero - both Avatar and Steven Universe explore it beautifully. Just like with Steven, I have to mention a tw for war, but this being a cartoon it's not explicitly traumatic. A great place to start if you're not into cartoons yet.

The Murderbot Diaries by Martha Wells

Murderbot is a half-organic, half-robotic being, serving as a security unit on interplanetary missions. It's much more sentient and independent than its company believes - but all it wants is for the annoying humans to leave it in peace long enough to watch one more episode of its current show. However when things go south on a mission, Murderbot has to deal with much more reality - and human interaction - than it would like.

Very fun and quick read; the narrator's voice is just excellent. Much less bloodthirsty than the title suggests, but still a tw for injury and death. (Not too much though - I hate gore and I was perfectly fine reading this.)

Folk of the Air by Holly Black

Elfhame is no place for humans - well, normal humans, anyway. Jude Duarte was brought up here with her sisters, and she is hell-bent on proving her worth in the fairy court she has come to call home. Few are happy with that, or believe that she can make it - but even Jude herself wouldn't have guessed where the political turbulence would get her.

Very well-written; politics of the fairy court stand to logic and offer plenty of exciting plot twists. True to the title, some characters can be rather cruel, so tw for violence and parental death; however most of the plot revolves around politics and not explicit physical trauma.

Cartoon Saloon films: Secret of Kells, Song of the Sea, WolfWalkers

Some of the best modern animation plus Irish mythology. Each of these films explores a different myth/historical period, but they are similar in the magical atmosphere; I recommend each and every one of them. The plots being different, I won't list all the tw's here; there's nothing particularly gruesome going on, so just have a look at the plot description before watching to check for sensitive topics.

Gravity Falls

Dipper and Mabel are sent to a cabin deep in Oregon forest to spend the summer with their great-uncle. Sounds like a boring holiday - however it turns out that the town has more weird secrets than residents, and even their great-uncle seems to be hiding something...

Very cartooney, so the style might be a little off-putting at first - however I loved the plot, especially when the overstory started to pick up. This is a great exploration of family and what summer should feel like when you're an adventurous kid. Will probably get you into cryptography.

She-Ra and the Princesses of Power

Adora grew up with the bad guys. That is, of course, she thinks they are the good ones - until one day she escapes from the camp and sees much more than she bargained for. Oh yes, and apparently some magical sword wants her to be a hero. Now on the side of the rebellion, she has to protect her new friends, deal with the old ones, and try to figure out what the heck is going on.

This show is fun, very diverse and full of positivity without trying too hard. For me it was a joy to watch something with a lot of strong female characters without having the dark gender issues discussed, not even once. (I mean, it's still important to have shows that explicitly discuss this - but a show where characters are just happy in their identities, no questions asked, is something I didn't know I needed.)

Carmen Sandiego

The young woman who calls herself Carmen Sandiego has a rather unconventional occupation. She was brought up in a school for thieves - but when she glimpsed the outside world, she realised that things weren't as simple as her teachers said. Now she uses her expertise to track her former schoolmates - and steal back their loot.

This is probably the most young-age-oriented item on my list, so there's not a lot of drama going on, and some plotlines are rather simple. That said, this series is good fun, I still found the story and the characters compelling, and the animation was really good as well. Honestly, seeing what modern 2D animation can do is a treat.

These things - and many other - helped me stay sane during this year; I found out that stories can be fun shameless escapism and really deep and satisfying at the same time. Feel free to add to this list - and I will keep it updated as well when more good stuff comes my way.

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prettywordsyouleft · 4 years ago

Text

To Be Continued - Part 7

Summary: As an author, you had created Brian Kang for your current trilogy series to represent the ultimate man that everyone would love, along with Charli Evers - your female protagonist. What you hadn’t expected was for him to find a way out of the story and begin shaping up your world instead

Pairing: Brian Kang x female writer (ft. Park Sungjin)

Genre: writer au / romance / fantasy

Warnings: fictional characters coming to life / a bit of angst here and there / Sungjin as a cop (or does that only affect me?) >_>

Word count: 2198

Preview | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | Epilogue

It was as if you were writing a new novel. Instead of focusing on how Charli Evers would finally get with her battered beau, you were at the peak of experiencing all the emotions and excitement that came from a new romance. You were enjoying playing the main protagonist for the first time in your life as well.

“What are you doing?” Brian asked with a hint of amusement in his tone. You leaned in even closer, already entangled together on the couch after watching a movie, and lifted your index finger.

“Counting.”

“Counting what?”

“How many lashes I gave you,” you murmured, your gaze honing in on one eye. You let out a whistle when you finished. “I gave you so many! Why are you this perfect?”

“I don’t see myself as perfect at all. You sure made a point of that in my creation, too.”

“How? You’re handsome, protective, honest, playful, charming, sensitive, and did I mention handsome?”

Brian’s lips curled up some from your description. “I think you might have said it twice.”

“Because you truly are that good looking!” you surmised, and Brian chuckled.

“Is being handsome all that matters to you?”

“Well, no.” You blinked a couple of times whilst trying to come up with an answer that didn’t make you feel shallow. The truth was, you really did enjoy looking at him a whole lot.

Over the past two weeks, that was what you had done an awful lot of. No matter what mundane task Brian did, he looked exceptional doing it. His laugh was music to your ears, and his voice made your heart flutter constantly. Any time he smiled, you worried your knees would give way, and on the rare chance they actually did, the way he caught you so easily with his strong embrace had you swooning further.

You wondered if this was all a dream. Instead of Brian coming out of your laptop, and your novel, perhaps you had died from your illness. That would explain why everything lately had felt so heavenly at his side.

Either way, you didn’t want to wake up or move on to the next realm. This was where you wanted to remain forever.

Especially when he kissed you. Leaning in to break you out of your reverie, Brian’s luscious lips pecked yours twice, a chuckle vibrating out of him when you realised you had zoned out again. “You’re too adorable.”

“Hardly.”

“If you keep calling me handsome, I’m allowed to call you how I see you.”

You sighed heavily and attempted to pull away from the man. “I don’t want to be just adorable if you’re handsome, Brian.”

“What do you mean?”

“Charli Evers is beautiful! She’s stunning and successful and has a body that would make any male swoon over her. She’s a goddess, and I’m just adorable.”

“You’re really adorable when you’re jealous,” he mused and shook his head, reaching out to pull you back in close to him again. “Charli isn’t real like you are.”

“What if she comes to her senses and finds out that you’ve left that world. She could come here, and it would be no competition between us!”

“You’re right. It wouldn’t be. Because I’d choose you over her every time.”

You scoffed loudly and pulled yourself away again, going over to the kitchen to get a drink of water to cool down. It was hard enough having insecurities as a person, and when you had lived alone, you barely thought of them, too busy up in worlds like Captivated to truly care. Your flaws, at points, made good fodder for some character traits, but you never wrote yourself fully into a world. You had come close in Destined, but even the main protagonist there was far more charming than you were to hook Park Jinyoung as she had.

Brian’s arms slipped around your waist, and he dropped his chin onto your shoulder. “It’s all about perception. You see Charli as superior to you. But she’s the type of woman you see in a magazine. Flawless, beautiful, and whilst you no doubt have made her relatable to your fans of the series as a person, as she does have a good soul, you are real. You aren’t sculpted to perfection. You aren’t going to star on the front cover of any Vogue or Marie Claire. Instead, you are starring as my leading lady.”

“I’m not sure if I’m flattered or not,” you mumbled, turning around to face Brian. “Maybe I want to be on the front cover.”

“It’s not in your personality to stand out like that. You much prefer this lifestyle. Domestic and homely and comfortable.”

“So she’s sexy, and I’m homely,” you deducted, whilst Brian groaned loudly.

“Can’t we go back to the part where we were thinking of just us? I don’t like you comparing yourself to someone else.”

“I’m sorry,” you admitted, lowering your gaze from his. Brian had a habit of making sure you were always looking at him, and he easily fished out your gaze again, smiling gently when he caught your eye. You sighed. “I guess whilst I made you to be the dream guy for me, and those who read my series, I never quite realised the impact you would have on my world if I actually had you.”

“If I have to make a point of telling you how much I appreciate and adore you daily, then so be it.”

“You shouldn’t have to though,” you pointed out, going around him and heading into your office. Brian followed you and leaned against the threshold as you sat down in your chair.

He nodded his head. “No, I suppose I shouldn’t. But isn’t that what makes a relationship work? I support you, and you support me. When one of us feels lower than the other, then it’s important to make sure they feel cherished and loved.”

“Loved?” you repeated, your eyes widening at his choice of words. Brian cleared his throat noisily, looking around your room as opposed to keeping eye contact. You smirked. He was cute when he was embarrassed.

“Isn’t it time to write, Miss Writer?”

“Perhaps I just got some inspiration for my starting point of Eternity. I mean, in the story, Charli Evers is cherished and loved by Brian Kang, isn’t she?”

“Have your fun at my expense.”

“It’s all those good lines I breathed into you. No wonder you make the world swoon, Brian. You’re full of the perfect lines to make any girl weak at the knee,” you told him as you opened your document for the final piece in this story. Admittedly, it was blank and had remained that way for some time. You knew it was because you were too busy with Brian in person that you couldn’t possibly think about writing about him as well.

However, you had received notice from Lily earlier in the day about your next deadline, and so you had promised after one movie tonight, you would end your evening with starting the next novel.

Glancing over at Brian who was still in the doorway, you smiled, and he nodded. “As long as you know it’s your knees I want to make weak every time. Have a good session, my love.”

However, two days later, you were still staring at a blank page. It wasn’t without trying, of course. You wrote, only to erase the sentence immediately. You told yourself to just let the words flow out and not edit them until you were done. Except nothing but a trickle of nonsense made it onto the document each time and after every gruelling session, you found yourself exhausted, mentally, and from simply staring at a blank page.

In all your years of creative writing, you had never been as stumped as you were now. It made no sense! You were living and breathing your own romance in life. Surely, the amount of affection Brian poured over you would easily inspire you enough to write it out. And generally, when you stepped into your office to write, it came from feeling inspired and uplifted to write about a world where love conquered all.

As soon as you were in front of your laptop, however, words failed you.

You had tried everything, from changing your writing schedule to practising with unrelated scenes. That had you hopeful. Every time you wrote a drabble about something outside of this series, you were capable of penning an entire world. In fact, you had now written a series of short stories about random characters and scenarios with relative ease. The success you felt from doing these was short-lived as soon as you opened Eternity, however. Nothing formed, nothing came to mind.

Nothing.

“Maybe it’s because I don’t want to share Brian with Charli,” you wondered out loud, immediately shaking your head. Whilst the Brian you were falling for fast, was that of the same Brian Charli would risk her all for, inside your literary world, you felt no need to keep him to yourself. You wanted Charli and Brian’s story to wrap up with a neat bow after their final tribulations of proving their love would outshine the obstacles in their way. You were determined to gift your readers what you had planned all along for the star-crossed lovers. And you needed to send Charli off on her merry way with a confirmed end.

Whilst your story with Brian continued.

“Just write something, Y/N!” you instructed yourself to do, poising your fingers above the keys.

It was a struggle, but they began to move, and you hoped this time would be the official start of your novel.

“So, what do you think?” you asked cautiously, staring at Lily as she read over what you had sent her.

Your editor didn’t say a thing, and sometimes that was a good notion. You had rendered her speechless yet again.

However, you knew better than that. She wasn’t speechless, she was in disbelief. Lily finally looked at the web camera on the video call and blinked several times. Pulling off her glasses, she wiped at them before placing them back over her eyes. And then she screamed incoherently.

“Lily, I can explain.”

“You better, and fast,” your editor stated back, trying to recompose herself. “This isn’t your writing.”

“Well, it is,” you told her, attempting to smile. Her laser glare wiped it off your lips, and you groaned. “So I think I’m having a writer’s block.”

“But you don’t suffer from writer’s blocks, you overcome them before they get to that level. What have you been doing for the last month that this is all you can turn in for me to look over?!”

“I’ve been a little preoccupied,” you announced, rocking back and forth in your chair. “And it’s sort of been hard to write.”

“I don’t buy it. You love to write.”

“I mean, I have been writing,” you agreed, grinning sheepishly. “Just not on what I’m contracted to be doing.”

“Y/N!” she whined, and you sighed heavily. “How are you going to make up time if you don’t even have a first chapter formed?!”

“I don’t know exactly, but do you think delaying the third story, especially since my second one is only at the publisher’s now preparing to print, can happen? I’m sure we don’t need to bang this series out one after the other. The hype from the wait will make it only more worthwhile for the fans!”

“Not if you plan on producing this type of rubbish! There’s no life in this part you’ve sent me! It’s as if Brian’s soul was sucked clear of this world and only Charli remains.”

You choked on the drink you had reached for, and this alerted the man in the adjacent room, your hands waving him off inconspicuously before Lily saw him.

You didn’t know what your editor’s reaction would be to find out your writer’s block stemmed from you dating someone. And you certainly didn’t want to find out either.

“That’s it, I’m coming over!”

“Lily, that’s unnecessary. You don’t have to!”

“Oh, but I do. My star writer is fumbling around and not focusing enough on what she needs to be doing. Boot camp is on its way.”

“I could help her,” a new voice added to the conversation and you clamped your eyes shut as you heard the wind being knocked out of Lily entirely. Brian crouched down at your side and smiled at the camera. “Lily Morton, correct?”

“You know my name.”

“Of course. You’re an important figure in my life.”

“I… I am?!”

“I mean, you help Y/N with her stories a whole deal, so that’s a special role to have.”

“Y/N, who is this person? He looks far too familiar and yet I feel I haven’t quite met him in the flesh before.”

“It’s a--” Catching yourself from your stalemate sentence, you smiled. And for some reason, you felt compelled to introduce him properly to someone. Before you even realised it, the words fell from your mouth.

“You’ve kind of met him already, Lily. This is Brian Kang, the star of our series.”

_________________

Part 8

[DAY6 Masterlist] | [Main Masterlist] | [Request Guidelines]

#kwritersworldnet #young k #young k fiction #young k fanfic #young k fluff #young k romance #young k au #day6 #day6 fiction #day6 fanfic #day6 fluff #day6 romance #day6 au #pwyl; to be continued #kpop fiction #kpop fanfic #kpop fluff #kpop romance

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violetnotez · 4 years ago

Note

I am in serious need of soft hours headcanons with Izuku. I wanna pamper him with love, hold his cheeks and kiss him tenderly, hold his hands and draw circles on them with my thumb, hug him to my chest to cuddle him, pet his fluffy hair, just tell him how much I appreciate and believe in him. Forehead kisses, cheek kisses, nose kisses, ALL THE KISSES DAMN IT! 😭 I. APPRECIATE. THIS. CUTE. BROCOLI. BOY. Help me plz 😭 I mean, if you can 😂 I know you're very busy with matchups (btw kudos to those

OMG Im so sorry this was so much later! I was really need some good Izuku loving hours when I wrote this, so I hope you like it! Also sorry it was posted at an UNGODLY HOURS I cant have a normal posting scheudele no matter how hard I try!

ALSO I REALIZED U ASKED FOR HEADCANNONS IM SO SORRY!!!!!!!!!

Izuku x reader

⤷ Genre: Fluff

⤷ Word Count: 1600+

⤷ Warnings: cursing if ya squint

⤷ Synopsis: You have been noticing Midoriya has been a little down lately, so you take it upon yourself to cheer him up by sneakily taking his favorite notebook and writing cute messages in his notes, and of course, his reaction is priceless!

This fic is for the @bnhabookclub bingo event! Here’s my masterlist to see all my work for this event!

Bingo Slot: Doodles On Their Notebook

Your hands were frantically shoving through Midoriya’s things, the collection of All Might merchandise staring at you with piercing eyes as you continued with your search.

Being Izuku’s girlfriend, you pretty much knew Midoriya like the back of your hand. So when he wasn't acting like himself, becoming more sulky and training more, you knew something was seriously wrong with the greenette.

But of course, the green haired boy was determined to prove you wrong, always saying “Im just fine!” or “Dont worry about me angel!” whenever you brought the topic up.

It just- didnt feel right to you...he seemed so sad, so burdened with something inside of him, his green eyes no longer shining like they used to and his body looking as if it was carrying a tremendous weight on his shoulders.

You had decided enough was enough, and that you would remind your boyfriend of how amazing he was by writing affirmations all over his favorite notebook in order to uplift his spirits-if only you could find the damn thing.

“The hell is that book,” you cursed under your breath, your hands now lifting up every textbook on his desk.

“What book are you looking for puppy?”

You felt a spike of coldness rush through your body, your eyes wide as you turned around to look at your confused looking boyfriend.

His hair looked slightly wet, a towel folded underneath his arms and his signature white shirt a little damp from a shower he probably had taken after training. His cheeks were still a little pink, making his freckles a little more prominent, and in any other circumstance you would have pounced on him with kisses from his cuteness.

But-he had just caught you red handed, looking through his stuff...the hell were you gonna get out of this?

“I-uh,” you stumbled out, trying to find a good lie, “I-I lost a notebook, and I-I think it might be here? From when I came over to study?”

Izuku didnt seem to notice your obvious fluster, his eyes downcast and his expression preoccupied.

“I havent seen any of your notebooks lying around...I’ll look for it, dont worry! We’ll find it eventually,” the boy tried to send you a reassuring smile, but it didnt work very well.

It was sad, tired, worried...just not the usually reassuring Izuku you knew.

All thoughts of your plan filtered out of your mind, your body instantly walking over to the boy. Your hand wrapped around his arm gingerly, some parts rougher than others from his scars as you gently trailed your hand down to rest in his palm.

“‘Zuku, are you feeling okay?” you asked, your voice sweet as you looked up at him with wide eyes. “Is something on your mind? You seem-sad,”

Midoriya sighed, his green orbs looking at you with love and warmth.

Even if he was looking down, it was reassuring to know he still looked at you like that- at least it wasn't you who was causing this...but what?

“Im sorry puppy, I didn't realize I was worrying you so much,” he said, his voice low as he rubbed his thumb against your hand. “Its just-I-I feel like I'm not improving as much as I should be. I've had this power for some time now, and I can barely use it to half its potential...the others are improving so much, especially Kachan..I just- sometimes I can't help- but think that maybe I'm not cut out for this…”

You tilted your head in confusion, your lips pursed and eyes full of empathy.

You were so relieved to finally know what was eating at your boyfriend so much, but it hurt you to know he was fighting with such insecurities All you wanted to do was love the hell out of him right now and smother him with cuddles and kisses.

“Oh, ‘Zuku,” you sighed out, your free hand finding refuge against Midoriya’s cheek. The boy quietly nuzzled himself into your touch, his skin soft and warm against your palm. “Is that what was bothering you?”

“Yeah-I-I know, it seems silly, its just-”

“No, it doesnt,” you quickly interjected him, a reassuring smile playing on your lips. “Everybody doubts themselves sometimes, no matter how good or bad they are at what you do.

“You're still just training, you're doing everything you can to be the best, more than what most people do in their whole lifetime. Yeah, others are going to improve faster than you, and others are going to improve slower. Just focus on yourself, and your goals, and don't forget what you’ve accomplished. You done so much with yourself Izuku, more than you would ever know, just don't forget that kay?”

Izuku face light up, his expression washing with relief. He instantly buried you into a hug, his taught arms wrapping around you and squeezing you slightly. You smiled at the big softie your boyfriend was, your hands cuddling his body close to you. You felt the boy chuckle slightly, his voice sounding flustered yet more relaxed than before

“What would I do without you?”

“Probably train until you passed out,” you giggled, a smile gracing your lips, “but seriously Izuku, dont be so hard on yourself, your doing just fine,”

“Okay, I-Ill try,” he stuttered out.

Izuku held you like that for another moment, you both relishing the feeling of the other against your arms. You felt Midoriya pull your body gently away from his, his face facing yours as he placed his hands on your shoulders.

He finally looked a little less solemn, some of the weight being taken off of his shoulders..but that tell tale look of sadness was still there.

“I-I know you were looking for your notebook...but did you maybe want to- stay for a little bit?”

You felt your insides light up from warmth, a grin growing on your face.

God, why did he have to go and be so cute?

“If you want cuddles, ‘Zuku, all you have to do is ask...”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ

Deku stepped into class the next day, his body almost in a trance as he sat himself down at his usual seat.

Last night was healing for him, just cuddling and having you in his arms, but reality hit him in the face the next day. Those inner demons weren’t quite destroyed, and he realized he still had to battle them, even after the night with you.

He sighed, his shoulders feeling tired as he rummaged through his backpack, pulling out his notebook.

Mind as well study as he waited for class to start…

He flipped through the first few pages, trying to find the last place he was reviewing, until he noticed something-there was new writing, unlike his own, scrawled in the empty gaps of his notes..

Izuku cocked his eyebrow, his fingers dragging against the message:

“I love how sweet you are, no matter what comes your way.”

Izuku felt his cheeks rise with heat-who wrote that?

He flipped the next page, finding another message:

“Your freckles are adorable and I’d kiss each and every one if I could.”

God, how could these make him so flustered? He felt his whole face rise in heat, beginning to recognize the handwriting as your own. He began to flip through each page, a message almost on every one, all about him:

“You are so strong.”

“I love when you get flustered.”

“Your going to accomplish your dreams and more,”

“Your hair is so cute pls dont ever change it,”

He chuckles at that last one, his digits racking through his locks. His classmates were beginning to file into class, the room becoming much louder than before.

Izuku turned around, his cheeks on fire as he hoped nobody saw him get so flustered-until his eyes met yours.

You were currently talking to Mina and Kaminari a few seats behind, your body sitting on a desk as you watched Izuku with waiting eyes.

Once he made eye contact though, he knew for certain it was you who had written the sweet notes in his notebook- your face lit up with relief, a smile gracing your lips as you sent a wink his way.

Midoriya couldn't help but let a squeak slip out of his lips, his body swiveling around quickly- god, he was too flustered around you!

Midoriya heard Aizawa enter, all his classmated quickly taking their seats and going silent.

He listened to the instruction, opening his notebook to a fresh page to write down notes...but he found himself flipping back to those few pages, rereading every message. It uplifted his spirits, made him feel loved, and he felt so lucky to have someone as caring as you love him back.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ

It was now the end of class, the bell ringing daintily around the room as everyone bombarded out to the lunch hall.

You on the other hand stayed behind, walking over to Midoriya as he slowly put his books away in his bag.

“So, did you like it?” you asked, a smile in your voice as you waited for your answer.

Midoriya looked up at you, his eyes wide with gratitude and his cheeks a rosy red-

Yeah, he liked it.

MIdoriya smiled, his grin wide and child-like. “I-I loved it, y/n, thank you!” he shouted, his voice dripping with gratitude.

“God,” you giggled sheepishly, “I took me forever to find that notebook after you fell asleep…”

His hand wracked into his hair again, his bright smile turning into a nervous smile

“Honestly, I don't know if I deserved all that work, but I-I really liked it-”

“Of course you deserve it Izuku!” you quickly reached for his hand, your body moving closer to his, “You are such an amazing person-everything I wrote in there was true, and will always be true.”

Izuku looked up at you, his eyes full of love and admiration. He had never been so grateful and felt so lucky to be with someone as amazing as you.

Midoriya’s cheeks began to turn red again, his body leaning in quickly towards yours. He planted a kiss on your cheeks, his skin leaving a lasting tingle on your skin.

“You know I-I love you-right...cause I do, I really really do,”

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