#at worst hes messed up like three times total. and all minor | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chvoswxtch · 2 years ago

Note

Firstly, MA’AM NO you are not an idiot, tumblr is crazy dumb and eats asks all the time!

Secondly, shiiiiiit that fic got me messed up in the best way possible! 🫢 angry Matt is just 😏 dragging reader up by the throat? 🤤 the line “if he could just make it to heaven tonight he could leave hell behind” was powerful! And the safe word being Red of all things? Amazing. Reader being so gentle with him afterwards? 🥺 Double amazing. And don’t even get me started on the sensory overload part! That happens to me and it’s awful. “The Matt Whisperer” was great too! Thank you for writing this! 😘😘

The other request was much less sad 😅 reader and Matt are being goofs and playing “hide n seek and chase” in his stupidly large apartment and reader is really confident in their ability to hide and run from ‘blind’ Matty but Matt’s got the heightened senses thing going for him and maybe Matt’s taunting reader and saying… things… to get reader flustered? 🙃😬🙃

AHHHHH i'm so glad you enjoyed it nonnie 🥺 I totally feel you on that. I get sensory overload all the time with my anxiety and it is literally one of the worst feelings ever and makes me wanna bang my head against a wall. thank you so much for the request!

and thank you for this one too! I was like 99% sure that's what the request was for and I had already started writing it but then I couldn't find it and I panicked and was like WAIT FUCK WHAT WAS IT. so AGAIN, I hope this is what you were looking for. this one is a little bit shorter bc my brain just no worky worky lately but if you'd like a part 2 or anything please let me know! I just really wanted to get this out bc I promised at least 3 posts for my little celebration thingy so thank you again so much for the requests! ❤️

warning: contains explicit sexual content. as always, minors please dni. if you'd like to read this lovely nonnie's other req, you can find it here. ✨ word count: 2k

[part two]

hide & seek.

It had started off as a joke initially. You and Matt were a few beers and tequila shots deep at Josie’s, which always had you feeling more brave and confident than usual. It also brought out your competitive side, which is how you ended up taunting the devil and boastfully striking up a bet that he couldn’t catch you in a game of hide and seek. Matt’s brows had ridden considerably up his forehead in surprise, his head cocked to the side as he studied you with that goddamn smirk curling at the edge of his mouth in a beckoning manner, clearly amused that you were serious.

You should’ve known better. Matt was extremely competitive by nature, but when he was challenged and had something to prove? Not even God could stand in his way. He also had the advantage of his heightened senses, which put you having regular sight to shame. The man could literally tell when you were lying about how many cups of coffee you had actually had that day, when you changed your shampoo or body wash even if it was a subtle difference, and most of the time opened the door before you even had a chance to raise your fist to knock because he could hear you coming from three blocks away. That’s not even counting all the times he had caught you before you had a chance to trip over whatever you had missed in your path, or a curb that surely hadn’t always been there. He told you once that he could find you anywhere in the world, just by your scent alone, and you believed him. So why had you agreed to this?

Oh. That’s right. Because of the stakes. Matt had a few rules for your little game. One, you had to play in the dark. To make it fair, he had insisted. Two, you would play in the safety of his apartment, which you argued was another unfair advantage. But you knew it almost as well as he did at this point, and it was spacious and away from…prying eyes. Because rule number three? You’d both be playing naked. He hadn’t even attempted to make up an excuse for that rule. He strictly wanted you naked so that it would be easier to claim his prize.

The game was simple. If you won, Matt had to take you away for a weekend to a secluded cabin upstate. No daredeviling. No distractions. No clothes. Just the two of you, a hot tub, an actual tub, a fireplace, and a very large bed. If Matt won, you agreed to let him tie you up and deprive you of some of your senses, and let him see just how many times he could make you come in one night. Needless to say you both won either way, and you were nearly positive Matt would win. But, that didn’t mean you weren’t going to make him earn his victory.

You tampered with the thermostat, trying to find a temperature just in the right space between cold and warm to make sure you weren’t shivering or sweltering. You showered with Matt’s shampoo and body wash, hoping it would throw him off your scent a bit. Trying to tame your excitement and nerves, you helped yourself to two double shots of tequila, hoping it would dull your heartbeat to a more inconspicuous pace. There were still a few hours left before Matt promised to be home from patrol, giving you a head start on finding a hiding spot without him hearing your every movement. He tried to make it fair, as fair as he could anyway, when you both knew the inevitable outcome. A part of you felt ridiculous, trying to hide from the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen himself, knowing exactly what he was capable of. But a bigger part of you was excited for the exact same reason.

With just an hour to spare, you made sure to pace every square inch of Matt’s apartment, leaving your intermingling scents in as many spaces as possible to buy yourself some more time. Even though you had all but accepted your defeat, you didn’t want it to be over so quickly. After all, the chase was the aphrodisiac leading up to all the fun. You had settled on hiding in a cabinet beside the stove in the kitchen just wide enough for you to fit in that was close to a closet containing the water heater, hoping that would help conceal your body temperature. It was a spot you figured would be the last on Matt’s list to look, and it would get him on his knees. A win-win for you.

Matt shut the door to the roof that led down into the apartment a little louder than usual to signal to you wherever you were that he was home. You could faintly hear him shedding his boots, gloves, and suit as they were discarded on the worn wooden steps behind him. You tried your hardest not to let your heart run wild as silence filled your ears, hoping the noise of the water heater would drown you out just a little bit. You couldn’t hear Matt moving around, and you momentarily regretted your choice in hiding spots since you couldn’t see him. Although, that might have made it worse for you. If you could see him coming closer, your heartbeat would no doubt give you away.

“Showered with my stuff, huh? Clever girl. But do you really think that’s going to save you, sweetheart? You really think you can outsmart the Devil?”

You had to close your eyes as Matt’s coarse voice cut through the silence. Matt knew how much of an effect his voice had on you, especially when he used his Daredevil voice. You didn’t even have to confess it. He had figured it out one night, while you were at Josie’s with Foggy and Karen, playing a game of pool on opposing teams. He had been teasing you relentlessly the entire night, his flirtatious comments getting more and more obscene to see just how far he could push you until you were begging him to drag you into the bathroom and fuck you shamelessly right there. Ever since that night, he used that knowledge to his advantage, making them a permanent part of foreplay.

“It’s cute you know, that you think you have a chance. Can’t say I don’t admire your efforts. But we both know I’m going to get what I want. Don’t we angel?”

His words sent a chill down your spine, and you instantly regret not making a rule of your own that Matt wasn’t allowed to talk. You couldn’t tell if he was actually having a hard time figuring out where you were hiding and was trying to get you worked up so he could draw you out that way, or if he was just genuinely enjoying fucking with you. Knowing him, it was the latter. Matt loved to tease you. He loved to get you needy for him, adored the way his name rolled off your tongue as you begged for mercy or more.

“C’mon sweetheart, don’t you wanna skip to the good part? Don’t you wanna let me make you feel good? If you give up now, I’ll have you coming in two minutes, tops. I promise.”

Squeezing your eyes shut tightly, you clamped your hand over your mouth as a shudder wracked through you. He wasn’t lying. You both knew that. There had been plenty of times you’d had to pry him away, hopelessly trying to warn him that Foggy and Karen would be back any second, or that you were already ridiculously running late. But he would just flash you that signature devilish grin, roll up his sleeves or set you up on the closest surface, sometimes getting on his knees, and whisper a promise into your ear. Two minutes, angel. The memories flooding through your head had you pressing your thighs together, and you heard him chuckle darkly.

“Hm, I see you’re considering my offer. Or rather, I can smell it, I should say. Oh sweetheart, if you only knew what I had planned for you tonight. You’d be giving up without hesitation. Maybe I should give you a little preview, hm? Would you like that, pretty girl?”

You hated how cocky he sounded. The fucker knew exactly what he was doing. He was pulling out all the stops, using every pet name he knew you loved, lowering his voice even deeper than you thought possible. You could faintly hear him moving around, avoiding all the spots in the floor that creaked or groaned under weight to keep his location from you. His voice was never far though, and that made you nervous. Was he even looking for you? Or had he already found you, and was waiting for you to give up?

“First things first, one of us is going to be on our knees. Who’s first, all depends on you. See, if you surrender and promise you’ve learned your lesson, I’ll be on my knees first. I won’t tease, won’t make you wait. I’ll bury my face in that sweet cunt of yours until you come, and reward you like the good girl I know you can be. And you know that won’t be the only time tonight my face will be between those pretty thighs. You know how much I love the way you taste, sweetheart. But, if you continue to be stubborn, and make me come get you, then I’m going to fuck that little throat of yours until you’ve learned not to taunt the Devil.”

You bit back a moan as hard as you could, pressing your thighs even tighter together. Another low snicker tore through the silence, and you could feel your wetness coating your inner thighs. It made even more sense now why Matt wanted you to play naked. He didn’t want anything coveting the scent of your arousal. He wanted the pure experience of it. No textures of fabric or other scents in the way. Just you, and what he was doing to you.

He knew exactly where you were. There’s no way he didn’t. You had no clue if he had figured it out the second he stepped into the apartment but continued to go along with your little game, or if he figured it out the second he started talking. It didn’t matter either way. He knew, and you had a choice to make. You could come quietly, give in and give him what he wanted, and revel in the fact you knew he would take it easy on you tonight for your cooperation. Or, you could continue to be defiant, force him to find you, and deal with the delectable consequences knowing he would really let you have it tonight.

If you didn’t get to have what you wanted, why should he?

A few moments of silence passed as Matt waited for you to make your decision. A sinister tsk tsk tsk echoed in the quiet when you refused to move from your spot. The sound caused a grin to spread across your face.

“So that’s how you wanna play tonight? Alright, sweetheart. Just remember, you asked for this.”

There was a warning laced in Matt’s words, and it only made the slick between your thighs worse. You didn’t bother trying to steady your heartbeat anymore, allowing it to thud in your chest as you waited in anticipation. Your brows furrowed slightly as seconds ticked by in silence. You couldn’t hear Matt moving around at all, and your mind raced with possibilities of what he was doing. A squeal of surprise sounded from you as the cabinet door was suddenly ripped open, revealing crouched down on his knees in front of you. The obnoxious billboard outside the apartment window was glowing red, and the crimson shadow it cast over Matt’s face and the way it illuminated the downright wicked grin on his lips made you squirm.

Maybe you should have given in.

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x female reader #matt murdock fic #matt murdock smut #matt murdock request #daredevil #daredevil fic #daredevil smut #daredevil request #foggy nelson #karen page

642 notes · View notes

vquacki · 3 years ago

Text

It's My Fatherly Duties!

Short DAD Scenarios

Characters: BONTEN - Rindou Haitani, Ran Haitani, Sanzu Haruchiyo

~ Inui Seishu, Kokonoi Hajime, Izana Kurokawa,

~ Souya Kawata (Angry), Nahoya Kawata (Smiley)

Warning ⚠︎︎ : Mature content, cussing, MINORS DNI

Note : requested, I added some characters. Hope ya don’t mind! These are pretty short, just little things I put together. Word barf kinda..? Anyways- I hope you enjoy :))

R I N D O U

His lashes fluttered open when he heard a loud crash coming from the hallway, along with a string of cuss words sounding like his daughter's voice.

“What the hell was that?” You groaned, not a single word was uttered from your husband when he sprung out of bed, bolting to the bedroom down the corridor.

“Tohru?!” Rindou yelled, flinging open the door. Revealing your teenage daughter fully dressed, half way through her second story window. A facade of pillows under her blanket seeminging meant to be her ‘sleeping body’.

“Oh dad, I-”

“What the hell are you doing” The man was fuming by the ears, pajamas ruffled when he jolted out of his slumber.

“Is Tohru okay?” You peeked from behind the broad shouldered man.

“I was just going to get fresh air!” Your daughter lied, making up a somewhat excuse to appease her angered father.

“Hey Tohru! Hurry up and get down here!” You heard a boy's voice call out, looking over at Rindou’s face to see the man's darkened expression.

“Who the fuck is down there? Is that a boy?!” He growled, stomping his feet over to the glass. Pushing past his daughter to take a look.

“Oh shit- her dads here. Let’s book it!” The kids whispered, but loud enough for Rindou to make out, hastily running down the dark street.

“You little shits! Don't you dare come back here!” Rindou growled, slamming the window shut in the process.

“What! Dad!” Tohru whined,

“You're so grounded young lady!” Rindou shouted, not caring for the sleeping neighbors beside his shared condo at three in the morning.

“Rin, she was just having some fun!” You defended, you were also like her when you were her age, trouble makers run in your blood. Actually Rindou couldn't even talk- he was running roppongi at her age.

“No! She's just too young to be hanging out with boys!” Rindou’s brows joined together as he withered in front of you.

“But we dated when we were her age-” You deadpanned at him,

“Grounded! My final answer!”

R A N

Ran was coming home from a late night bonten meeting, mouth agape when he saw his daughter’s feet dangling out from her window.

Fearing the worst he sprinted to the ground below his child, hands outstretched to catch her if she were to misstep.

“Mitsuri!” His voice boomed,

“Eh? Dad?!” His daughter stuttered, slowly slid out the window, climbing down like she had done this many times prior to this awkward occurrence.

Toes easily touching the grass with ease, not a scratch upon the females porcelain skin.

“Ran?” You yawned, cracking the door ajar. It was late, you waking up to your husband's screams outside your house.

“Mitsuri, what are you doing climbing out your window like a maniac?!” Ran scowled, hands running through his messed up hair. Sweat dripping down his temple from the not so pleasant adrenaline rush.

“I was just gonna hang out with some friends..” your daughter answered, fingers gripping the edge of her shirt, scarily waiting for her dad’s reaction.

“At this time of night? .. out your window?”

“Ye-”

“Phone privileges. Give me it.” Ran demanded, palm stretched out.

“But-” no question she was a tad bit spoiled by her father. You being the bad cop, while your husband played the good cop for his beloved daughter.

“If you want to go anywhere all you got to do is ask!” Ran plucked the phone from his daughter's hand, a wave of relief washing over him. Secretly thanking whatever being watching over him that it wasn't some sort of gang related subject.

“This is what you get for spoiling her!” You laughed from the sidelines, hand clutching your stomach.

“This is your fault too ya know!” Ran argued.

“I’m the one who tries to discipline her! But someone always lets it go!” You emphasized the special somebody.

“Whatever” Ran sighed, This was a lesson for the usual carefree man, a special lesson he wouldn't forget in the many years to come with his unborn future children.

S A N Z U

It was Sanzu’s best day of his life when his daughters were born, the two only being about one year apart. They were spoiled to the core, anything they wanted their money liberl father blessed them with. He thought they were the sweetest things ever, them both being a daddy's girl after all.

He never would have expected to see both of his daughters outside his humble abode, standing beside two boys, most likely a double date.

He stared in shock, hands pressed firmly against the glass, teeth gritting.

“Huh? I tucked them into bed an hour ago” You rubbed your eyes, riding yourself of the sleepiness threatening to drown you. The pink haired only tutted his teeth, swifty twisting the door knob to confront the four children outside.

“Oh you better run” your oldest daughter whispered, gesturing for the boys to make haste from her deadly father.

“You better not come back here, unless you want trouble you fuckers!” Sanzu yelled, red in the eyes from anger. Not bothering to chase after the two scoundrels.

“Dad, mom! What are you guys doing awake?” Your youngest asked, sheer panic in her eyes, watching her insane fathers unpleasant smile.

“I swear you two will be the death of me” Sanzu uttered, shoving his hands into his pockets. A irked gleen in his orbs as he stared them down.

“They were just friends dad, stop overreacting” the older daughter said,

“I- You little shi-” He bit his lip to suppress his anger fueled words, knowing well it would definitely hurt his precious children's feelings. Having regretted it later if he were to say those sinful words.

“Now now Sanzu, let's head to bed” You wrapped your arms around your lover, dragging him inside the house.

“You can sort out their punishment tomorrow, after a good night's sleep” , coating him with reassuring words. That day he learned how misjudged he was of his children, even so he still loved them with all his heart.

I Z A N A

Izana had his feet kicked up, relaxing in his office while he watched the moon. He had a clear view, the street lamps positioned next to the sidewalk, the side of his beautiful house facing his office window. He was enjoying his free time, mind taking over his body while he thought about his life choices. He was in ease until he saw his son's window light up, a long string of rope being tossed out the opening.

Sitting up from his chair, he rushed over to his clear casement. Throwing his window open, a boy and girl standing beneath his son's window. The two holding the rope still as your child tried to slid down.

“My my Yuki, where are you off to?” Izana laughed, nerves finally relaxing when he figured out what was going on. Calmly settling into the frame, head leaning on his chin. It wasn't like he had the right to be upset, he did much worse when he was his son's age. Robbing, fighting, killing. You name it, Izana’s done it.

Sneaking out was nothing compared to what he did, but he wasn't gonna just let his son go. He was more wise now, he knew for a fact he didn't want his son to end up anything like him. Sure, he wanted the boy to have fun, but in a normal kid way.

“Dad! Um- I”

“You better get your arse back up that window before I drag you around with that rope” Izana smiled, Totally different from the sentence he was portraying. Not forgetting his manners, giving a nonchalant wave to the other two kids.

“Zana? Who are you talking to?” You asked, placing a cup of tea you had prepared for Izana on his desk.

“Oh no one doll” Izana answered, closing the window before walking over to you.

“Let's go to bed, yeah?” He proposed, trailing his hands around your shoulders, guiding you to the door.

“But the tea I made”

“Im tired~”

Overall the male wouldn't want to talk further about the situation, nor would he discuss it with you. Trivial matters held no place between you both, as long as the child did not dare do it again.

I N U I

Inui wiped the sweat dripping from his forehead, the AC wasnt working at the motor shop. Him, draken and yourself were sweating bullets, the hot material around you not helping. You had decided to help the pair around the shop, cleaning what you could. Or helping with cashing every customer out, it would've been an easy task if it wasn't blazing hot.

Leaving your daughter home alone, obviously thinking she’d stay and do her teenage things. You couldn't be more mistaken, astounded as you watched her fiddle around with a boy across the street at the ice cream parlor.

“Y/N please don't tell me that Kagura..” Inui’s jaw dropped, the wrench that was once in his clasp dropping to the ground. Startling the concentrating Draken that was crouched over a motorbike.

“What's wrong Inui? Y/N” Draken twisted his body around, raising a brow when you two just started muttering to each other like two creeps.

“Is that... a boy” Inui held his chin between his fingers, squinting to get a better view of his kid.

“You trying to catch flies with your mouth Inui? Close your yap” You whispered,

“Y/N! She's too young, I feel like I just held her in my arms not too long ago. She can't get married just yet!” Inui argued, he would've been on the verge of tears if he didn't have a reputation to uphold.

“What? The fuck are you on Inui? She's probably just with a friend!” You patted his back, reassuring the man.

“Boys and girls can be friends ya’know” you added.

Cueing the two children across the road from you, feeding scoops of ice cream to each other.

“I don't think friends do that..” Inui looked over at you, eyes widening when you swung the motor shop’s door open. Hands coming around your mouth to amplify your words,

“Kagura, is that your boyfriend?”

“WHAT?” Inui almost fainted, the ledge behind him holding his wobbly frame up right.

“I didn't know you guys would be here!” Your daughter jogged across the street, leaving the boy sitting by himself.

“And no! Just a friend” She answered your embarrassing, blushing as she stared down at the ground.,

“I sense some lies” you wiggled playfully at the flustered girl.

“What! Anyways, Sorry I left the house without telling you” Kagura apologized,

“Just don't do it again, without my permission..” Inui stated,

“Especially not with a boy.”

K O K O N O I

Bribing people is his forte, and if they did not obliged? Threatening always did the trick.

And that's exactly what he did when he saw his descendant out with a male. All was dandy until the boy came running back, babbling about how his girl was the so called ‘love of his life’.

“Hey brat, you got a death wish?” Kokonoi asked, leaning against the door frame.

“Koko go easy on him, he’s just a kid” You nudged the man, a mischievous grin plastered on the males face.

“And I kinda think it's cute” You said, a small smile erupting from your daughter that was not so far behind her parents.

“I approve, kid! I like your romantic drive!” You clapped,

“Y/N!” Kokonoi pouted,

“You better not try to bribe him with money again” You threatened, waving a finger at the whiny man.

“Yeah! I like him too, dad!” Your daughter agreed.

“You're like twelve, go play chess or something” Kokonoi barked, crossing his arms in disapproval.

“Dad, I'm sixteen!”

“That's what I said”

S O U Y A

He almost had a panic attack at the sight, having to shield the man from the scene playing out. Your twin daughter saying their goodbyes to their dates, followed by a kiss. You removed your hand when the boys were no longer in view, riding off in their motorcycles.

“Shira, Nihra” You held Souya up by the shoulder, the light headed male limping towards the worried kids.

“What's wrong with dad?” Nihra questioned, eyeing her ghostly pale father.

“He's out of it” You giggled,

“I'm not crazy am i?” He stood tall, letting go of the arm you had draped around him.

“There was boys-” His voice cracked.

“You saw that dad?” Shira sweat dropped, watching as her fathers should leave his body.

“Next time ask before you go out” You smiled, you weren't too strict on the two. They were Souya’s children, earning most of their adorable traits from him. Even his fighting skills.

“This better not happen again, i'm trusting you” Souya grumbled.

“Sorry pops” The two girls remorsefully sollied the man, both hooking onto one of Souya’s arms as they helped his shell into the house.

N A H O Y A

Nahoya was beyond pissed, infamous smile widening. Taking fast steps towards your daughter and her significant other.

“Look boy, I don't know who you are. But my daughters not up for grabs” Nahoya grinned, cracking his fingers.

“O-okay sir” the boy was jittering, body trembling from the males intense arua.

“If I catch ya here again” he used his finger to slash his neck, motioning to the death that would happily greet the boy if they were to ever meet again.

“Yer dead meat kiddo” Nahoya laughed, watching as the boy ran for his life.

“Dad, that was really extra!” Your daughter sneered, a pout on her lips.

“Shut up!, you're grounded rat!” Nahoya shouted.

“Yeah Nahoya, there was no need to threaten the poor kid. He looked like he was gonna piss himself.”

“Exactly the effect i wanted”

End Note : as I said this was a word barf T-T, so it’s quite short.

Reblogs & Notes are always appreciated! Take care! ♡︎♡︎

2K notes · View notes

munvermaniac · 2 years ago

Note

An AU where Eddie is accident prone and Jason is an ER nurse. It's the chaotic fluff that the ship deserves

The first time Eddie signs himself into the hospital he has a visibly broken nose and Jason’s been working for about three weeks straight with no days off. He says he fell down the stairs, tripped by his cat. Jason has better things to do than take care of this idiot, but gets assigned to him anyway.

He stays for only a day before checking himself out, but he’s back within the week; a minor concussion this time. After that, Eddie’s in the ER at least once a week. He insists his apartment is haunted, but in reality he’s just clumsy.

He’s a hospital regular by what’s about his fifteenth visit, and almost every time he’s there Jason is his attending nurse. Now, Jason fucking hates Eddie with his stupid accidents and his stupid face that totally isn’t attractive.

By his twentieth visit, Jason is assigned as Eddie’s personal nurse. His coworkers say it’s for simplicity’s sake because he knows his medical records by heart already (he can recite the whole thing verbatim). Jason knows it’s because his coworkers hate him.

Eventually, Jason gets used to the routine. Eddie comes in every so often, fucks up his entire set schedule, and leaves, only to come back five days later. It happens so often that Jason can describe the layout of Eddie’s house without even having seen it.

“Was it the loose kitchen tile again?”

“Nope, but good guess. It was the leak in the laundry room.”

“Ah, that explains the soaking wet clothes.”

About a year into their routine, there’s a point where Jason doesn’t see Eddie in the hospital for about a month.

This is a good thing, Jason tries to reason. There’s no one to mess up his schedule, and someone who’s getting injured much less.

But deep down, he’s getting worried. He’s rushing around the hospital overworking himself and trying to keep himself busy. What if he went to a different hospital? What if one of his accidents was a bit too serious? Where is he?

When Eddie finally comes in, Jason all but drags him into the check up room. His protective streak takes over and he’s expecting the worst, but Eddie doesn’t seem injured or sick at all. In fact, he looks a bit nervous.

Jason almost slaps Eddie when he tells him he was just moving in to a new apartment without telling him!!! . No loose tiles, no uneven stairs, no stupid, clumsy injuries to be had. Even more appalling, Eddie asks Jason out on a date. After disappearing for weeks.

Of course Jason has to say yes. Someone’s gotta take care of that clumsy idiot after all.

Alternate Ending 1:

Eddie still moves apartments, but for some reason he keeps coming in with weirder and weirder injuries. Hell, one time he even comes in to the emergency room because he said his head hurt. (Of course, Jason still checks him, just in case.)

Eventually, Jason’s manager has to call it quits. Listen, she says. It’s fine if your boyfriend comes in every so often, but please tell him to stop faking injuries. He’s costing us so much money. Please.

And Jason’s like what??? He’s been faking it this whole time???? He pointedly doesn’t say anything about the “boyfriend” thing.

Shenanigans ensue and yes, Eddie is 100% making shit up so he can see this nurse who he thinks is cute. Eventually they get together and it’s adorable and Eddie still comes in and wastes company time like the little bastard man he is.

Alternate Ending 2:

Eddie comes in one day with another injury, but there’s a different nurse assigned to him. He asks what happened to Jason, and turns out there’s been a pretty bad flu outbreak in the hospital. Jason’s been infected and put on leave for a while until he gets better.

The hospital workers know that Jason’s probably sulking in his apartment and not taking care of himself, so they ask Eddie if he’d like to go and check up on him.

So now it’s Eddie’s turn to take care of Jason. He brings him chicken soup and lots of blankets and plenty of cheesy slasher movies for them to watch together and it’s all very cute.

#munver #eddie x jason #jason x eddie #jason carver #eddie munson #munver prompt #stranger things #thanks for the ask! this was really fun to write!!#as always #feel free to write a fic of anything tagged ‘munver prompt’ or ‘munver prompts’

44 notes · View notes

the-drifters · 2 years ago

Text

@kisetsukaze-central @dogshit-enchantment (reblogging this because it’s too much of a chaotic mess to put in the replies. Human designs I’ll post later)

So! To start with some background- this is all taking place on my rp server, which is a multiverse server and people can rp OCs, canon characters, or AUs of canon characters- you get the idea. Anyways this deranged chain of events starts below, minor tw for suicidal ideation later in:

This ongoing, in-character mess is largely focused on Geist, Dianthus, and one of my admin’s Call of Cthulhu OC. There seems to be a recurring trend with me in any rpc I’ve been apart of and it’s that my characters can’t. stop. taking L’s. Dianthus has it worst of all so far.

The first thing that happens after I start rping as Dianthus isn’t such a big deal but I think it’s necessary I describe it anyway. I’ve chosen to start her off AFTER harvestella’s plot and her character story has been finished.

She teams up with another user’s OC and the two basically commit a criminal heist against a corrupt and collapsing dystopian space government. Why? The man just wanted to get back to where he came from. The two of them become friends without really intending to and Dianthus worries for the guy bc he doesn’t take care of himself. Otherwise they’re really just two accomplices atm.

Now here’s where the messed up stuff begins. The first disaster, which I’d consider the inciting incident of this convoluted mess:

She decides to further explore this strange new world, returning back to the Castle of Illusion and stuff as needed. Even better, she doesn’t have to hide herself in these new places because she doesn’t have the bad reputation an Omen has among ReGaians! So, while she’s walking around in a city park one day she sees a crowd gathered around an injured priest. Said priest is Pucci from JJBA, played by another user. He freaks the fuck out and a random civilian dies due to his stand.

So naturally Dianthus is all like “what the fuck dude” considering she’s got a duty to protect humans, and an innocent person is dead. So she leaps into action and Pucci retaliates because he thinks there’s a stand user nearby, and she’s the stand. Poor Dianthus ends up totally powerless in this fight because what she can do with the Geo Amplifier only boosts Pucci’s stand. So she freaks the fuck out too.

All but ONE person in the crowd is killed in the fallout of the fight. Once Dianthus realizes she’s done everything she could and it’s just not working, she tries to flee and chases after the survivor in order to try and save him. She isn’t able to escape in time as Pucci’s stand is able to basically obliterate her. She accidentally drops the Geo Amplifier and it ends up passing right through the stand- proving that Dianthus is a physical being. So Pucci stops fighting. Dianthus is able to hold on long enough just to send out a distress code after Pucci flees the place, but she dies immediately afterwards. The human survivor, the CoC OC I mentioned earlier, is injured but otherwise fine.

Dianthus’s body and Damien, the human survivor, is retrieved by Nivalis. Damien’s wounds are treated by some other Omens. Dianthus’s personality chip and her memory drive is miraculously untouched by the fight, so she’s got her intact parts placed into a new, identical shell. She’s brought back… but something’s WRONG with her, and EVERYONE knows it. Ever since the incident she’s been constantly on edge, distracted, and seems… not herself. So, she has been corrupted by what she’s just been through. She’s trying a bit too hard to hide it so whenever someone expresses concern she just gets mad with them instead.

Geist meets Damien and Dianthus later interrupts them by mistake. So the three chat for a while but eventually Geist says something that ends up aggravating Dianthus and she tells him off. So now he’s beginning to worry a bit more because he’s had his code corrupted too. Some time later, Geist finds out Damien is a master of psychology and knowing that Dianthus has developed very humanlike emotions, he tries to get some insight on how to approach her with his worries. Damien has his fair share of concerns too so the two come to her together. She’s receptive to what they have to say and they tell her they want to help her.

Things seem well… for a little while. Dianthus has been spending what little free time she has with Damien because the two of them have fallen hard for each other but don’t realize what they’re feeling yet. But, Dianthus has started overworking herself to escape the anguish she’s in. Damien eventually convinces her to take a break and he asks her out. During their date (which Dianthus doesn’t realize it at first), Damien finally tells her he loves her, but not long after Dianthus receives a transmission, warning her there’s been a Hallowed sighted nearby the Castle- and it’s a mutant, kind of like what is featured in Brakka’s character story. So she’s forced to leave and address that.

She’s injured in the fight. She lives this time but is somewhat delirious. Geist saves her, helping her back to the Castle. But Damien’s been victim to some timeline fuckery and he’s found near death back at the Castle.

THEN Dianthus finally snaps. She starts fretting over how she’d rather die with him than keep living. Geist quickly cuts off Dianthus’s signal and shuts her off so she doesn’t have to witness what is going on, and he separates the two so they can get their wounds treated. Geist looks through her code without her permission and he’s HORRIFIED by what he’s looking at. He has two options: reboot Dianthus entirely or let her remain corrupted. But with Geist’s newfound perspective thanks to Damien’s help, he’s going to let her make that choice because this “corruption” is really just trauma that can he wants to believe she can heal from. Once Dianthus is powered on again, she’s presented with her options, but there’s a catch. She’ll be rebooted without a choice if she harms herself or others, or she can try and heal.

Dianthus chooses to try and heal. She’s temporarily cut off from her duties so she can rest and think about what she needs to do. It helps for a while but eventually she begins to become very depressed without a purpose. She cuts herself off from everyone and isolates. Geist has caught on, and he’s all like “oh. FUCK.” because remember what happened the last time an Omen was corrupted and disappeared like that?

So that’s where it’s at now. As for what’s next? I don’t know for certain but this is kind of the climax of this madness. I plan to begin to get more into Geist’s personal problems as well because at this point he’s got a lot of those too.

So tl;dr- Dianthus witnesses 30+ innocent human beings die, is subsequently killed by an Italian, falls in love with the one human she saved, gets fucked up by a mutant Hallowed, watches her boyfriend nearly die to horrors beyond her comprehension, is effectively placed into a forced break from working, and spirals into severe depression. And Geist is standing by wondering what he needs to be doing.

Harvestella microwave brain rot thoughts (some spoilers)

Something something Geist but also the robot arm that cleans itself, it feels like a very good analogy to his character

And also the idea of Aria being more or less a flawed messiah. In my mind her perfect song to corelate her entire being is Personal Jesus (by Depeche Mode or MSI, both are fitting for the vibe) the idea of her taking on the burden of humanity and fighting for it to thrive, wanting desperately to be saved but not knowing if she can be.

I also can't stop thinking about corrupted Dianthus, the idea of her being the one that becomes overwhelmed with metaphysics instead of Geist, what measures she would take to ensure humanities survival

I am rotating the Seth in my mind

#i’m not putting this in the tag cus it’s not relevant enough to me tbh #but yeah that’s the Dianthus corruption arc so far #very different from Geist’s obv- due to different circumstances #kisetsukaze-central #dogshit-enchantment #suicidal ideation tw #reblog

13 notes · View notes

rockingrobin69 · 3 years ago

Text

Breaking the Cycle

TW: panic attack. Also includes: some angst, fluff, parenst!drarry. 1.2k

Being a parent was a complicated experience for Harry. Loving James was easy, easier than anything he ever did in his life – and yet. Often it felt like a lump in his throat; something he couldn’t ignore, slightly painful, irrevocably a part of him. Sometimes it felt like fireworks; beautiful, dangerous, out of control. Sometimes it felt like flying; free, groundless, natural. But always – somewhere underneath all of those, there was always a nugget of fear. Being a parent, to Harry, was fear.

At first, fear he’d fuck it up. Having had no real example to guide him, Harry felt pretty certain he wouldn’t have the first clue what to do. So locking a child in a cupboard was wrong – but what was right? He only knew what not to do. Draco had to hold him so many nights, slowly stroking his hair and saying, you’re doing so well, love. You’re doing so, so well.

It didn’t really disappear – and Harry was beginning to think it never really would; there are so many ways to ruin a child, it often left his mind reeling. But while he was still shit-scared to fuck James up, new fears started appearing. The worst of them was the fear James would get hurt.

God! What an exhausting, life-consuming fear. It seemed like James wanted to get hurt more than anything; he’d charge at complete strangers open handed, jump off the sofa headfirst, play with animals three times his size without blinking. And Harry – who had to learn the hard way to look for danger in every corner – thought he was going absolutely mental. He couldn’t sleep at night, couldn’t breathe sometimes with how terrified he was. Draco had to grab his hand at these moments, force him to close his eyes. He’s like you, he would say, a fond whisper over his eyelashes, a quick kiss to the edge of his nose. He’s brave. That’s a good thing. But more than anything, he’s loved, and he is safe.

Which, all right, he probably was. Draco was a genius with protective spells, and Harry wasn’t exactly a stranger to leaving dangerous situations unscathed. Still, his heart worked a lot of overtime, and he was sure it’s not exactly healthy. But it wasn’t the only thing that kept him up at night.

It’s just – it was silly, maybe, and a bit depressing, but Harry was horrified of the thought something would happen to him. What if he got taken out by one of the dark wizards still roaming about? What if James ended up being an orphan, too? Who would love him then? Who would protect him? Every time he thought about it, he became so sad he’d throw up. Thinking of James alone was the worst kind of heartbreak. Draco would have to kneel next to him on the floor and take Harry in his hands, saying, you ninny, he won’t ever be alone. He has me, and Ron and Hermione, and Mother and the Weasleys and Andromeda and Teddy and Hagrid. And Luna and Neville and - it would take some long minutes before Draco would stop counting their friends and loved ones, and by the end of it Harry would feel better. Not great, but better. He’d cry into the crook of Draco’s neck and apologize for being such a mess, for which he’d get an eyeroll and sometimes a light flick to the forehead.

You don’t ever apologize to me, Draco would tell him. Not for what you need.

And Harry would pick himself up – had to, for James’s sake. For Draco’s. For all the gushing, nauseating love flowing in his veins. For all the unbearable warmth flooding him, for the impossible amount of care, a mountain in his chest, unvanquishable. It wasn’t easy, and Harry was beginning to think it never would be. But it was manageable, most of the time. Fear had his gut, and his mind, and most of his chest, but love had his heart, and that came first. You’re doing so well, Draco would tell him, and Harry would try.

It was harder than normally when James’s second birthday came along. Harry crawled into a ball on the bed that morning and had what presumably was the worst panic attack he’d experienced in years. He managed to get out of the bedroom just in time for the party, still rattled and rather shaky, and was very grateful when Draco slipped a cup of tea into his hands and led him to the back garden, blissfully empty of people.

“We can cancel,” he said. “Tell everyone to piss off. Would leave more cake for us, too.”

Harry made a complicated sound, somewhere between a snort and a sob. “No. I – I’m sorry, it’d pass soon. It’s just…”

“Your parents never got to see you get older than one,” Draco nodded, a warm hand landing on Harry’s arm. “I know, love. I know.”

“I just want to be there for him,” Harry whispered, broken and so tired. “I want to always be there for him. I want him to have someone that’s always there, you know? To cheer when he succeeds and kiss his wounds and hug him when he fails. I want him to have something constant, someone to lean on, and… am I being selfish if I say I want it to be me?”

“Harry,” Draco shook his head, horrified, “of course not. He’s your child. It’s okay that you want to be his parent.” His hand left Harry for a second – but it was only to pull something out of his pocket. “I meant to give it to James, but I think maybe you should open it. It’s for both of you, I suppose.”

Harry unwrapped the present with shaky fingers. A small plush monkey, fluffy and brown, gave him a beady-eyed grin. Magic tingled all around it, a protective aura. “What’s this?”

“His name is George,” Draco explained as though that’s what Harry asked. “He’s a charmed companion, with a Lose-Me-Not and a Thief-Bite. I’ve attached a Muggle microphone as well, so you can record a message on it, and James will be able to play it whenever he presses the button. So he’ll always have a little bit of you with him. No matter what.”

Harry didn’t really hear the end of that, because he was crying again, like a total numpty. It was all right, though, because Draco melted into his embrace like he belonged there, which he did, and Harry was so loved, and James was loved and safe. True that his own parents never got to celebrate an achievement as minor (and as spectacular) as this. But maybe through him they could. Maybe this was the time the Potter (fine, fine, Potter-Malfoy) family could do this right. He looked through the living room windows at all the people inside, the gaggle of children, the joy and annoyance and every feeling on the human spectrum. And here by his side, his Draco. There for him. There for James.

Being a parent was too often fear, for Harry. But at least he wasn’t doing it alone.

#drarry #fic #Drarry Drabble Monday #parents drarry #a bit angsty I guess #but still fluffy #RockingRobin69 #james sirius potter

101 notes · View notes

seasonofthewicth · 3 years ago

Text

nobody does it like you do - act 2

Thank you so much for all your reactions to part 1! I hope you enjoy part two just as much :)

CW: mentions of past minor character death (incl. a pregnant woman)

7.3k - masterlist - ao3

Her first day of shooting isn’t great. It’s not bad by a long way, but it could have easily been better. They’re on location in a forest somewhere in the outskirts of Rifthold and she didn’t even know there were places in the city like this, she’d assumed it was all the sprawling metropolis of skyscrapers and crowded streets, but apparently not.

She’s cold. There’s a machine beating down torrents of fake rain on her and Fenrys where they stand opposite each other on the muddy path through the trees, they’re filming the scene where their characters first meet. Her feet are soggy inside the canvas trainers she’s wearing and they keep spraying water on her hair to keep the wet look running throughout all of the takes and she hates it. She’s uncomfortable and stiff but she comforts herself with the knowledge that Fenrys is the same if the frown he wears whenever the camera isn’t on him is anything to go by.

It helps, barely.

She keeps having to spit water out of her mouth between lines, she swears it never rains this heavily in real life but who is she to comment, and she watches Rowan’s lips twist in displeasure where he sits behind the camera every time she does it. Aelin’s not sure what else she’s supposed to do, he can sit there out of the line of the water all fine, but she can’t speak with her mouth full.

It can take time to fall into the natural rhythm of shooting a new project, even the shitty ones she’s done in the past have shown her that, but there’s something about the way Rowan watches her that prickles the back of her neck, his stare intense and heavy as he watches, that adds the pressure. She wants to show him that she can do this. She wants his approval.

She ignores the reasons why.

After they finish and Rowan has called cut she sulks back to her trailer, she’s only just managed to change out of her sodden clothes when there’s a knock at the door. It’s Fenrys, warm and dry now in his own change of clothes.

They’ve sort of become friends recently, after swapping numbers after the table read he had texted her first. The studio has put him in the same complex as her and they’ve shared a car back there a couple of times after some of their meetings. She likes him a lot actually, and while she knows his reputation of infamy with the ladies follows him around like a bad smell, she feels comfortable with him.

“That could have gone better,” he tells her as he flops down onto the two-seater sofa at the end of her trailer, the other half has a mound of clothes dumped on it that she hasn’t bothered to sort through yet.

She just shoots him a look that she hopes says tell me about it.

“Tomorrow will be better,” he tells her, reassuringly. He would know she supposes, he has far more experience than her.

“I hope so.”

“How’re you finding it so far, working with Rowan?” he asks, and she frowns, bristling at the fact that he somehow knows the worst question to ask already. Aelin doesn’t think she’s behaved weirdly around Rowan since the day at the table read, in fact she’s tried to avoid him where possible. Maybe that’s it.

“Fine,” she says, but that’s not quite true. It messes with her in a dangerous way every time she knows he’s watching her. She should be able to turn that part of her brain off during a scene, she trained for years to learn how to do that, but he gets to her. She’s working on it.

Fenrys laughs, seeing right through her.

“He’s not bad once you get to know him, the first time we worked together I thought he was a total dick.” She gives him the same look as before as she clears the clothes and sits down next to him.

“I swear he’s not that bad. He’s just-” Fenrys pauses, weighing her up with a look, and something that he takes in from the way she stands, gnawing on her lower lip with her hair still wet, has him saying; “He’s got a lot riding on this.”

“Why?”

It doesn’t feel like he has a lot riding on this, his last piece was nominated for the Oscars, how much higher than that can you get? It’s not like he’s in the same position as her, desperately clawing herself back to a place where she can be cast in a role and it not be followed by a stunned, oh?

She knows there were articles written when her casting was announced that were doubtful of her ability to do this movie, that questioned whether she’s up to the task and whether she’s good enough to be standing next to names like Fenrys and Rowan. Some of the articles were straight up mean, and she only knows that because she searched them up like a masochist when all the ones Elide sent over were far too nice.

A dark part of herself can’t help but fall prey to some of the headlines. The ones that throw around words like nepotism, the ones that question whether Aelin is talented enough to be where she is cut deeper than any knife, and only half of it is because she sometimes wonders the same. She should be better than that, but the reminder catches in her throat that she really does have a lot riding on this.

“It’s not really my place to say.”

That’s a load of shit, and she tells him so. He only shrugs, not willing to so openly gossip about their boss.

“How well do you know him exactly?” She’s fishing for any details, but it definitely could be passed off as casual curiosity.

“He directed my debut, we keep in touch every so often.” He’s nonchalant. “He asked me to audition for this.”

“Nice humble brag.”

Fenrys only flashes her his movie star grin, in combination with the wink he throws at her it’s almost an effort not to blush.

“He wanted you cast, you know?” That she didn’t know, but it’s nice to hear.

“Why? He doesn’t know me.”

“You’re hard work, you know?” He’s joking but it doesn’t sit quite right. She knows it’s true. “Come with us tonight. There's a group of us getting dinner, and you can ask him yourself.”

It’s an olive branch. She knows it’s obvious to everyone that she’s uncomfortable, still hasn’t quite found her feet on set after taking such a break, and it’s one that she’s grateful for. No matter how closed off she knows she still seems to them.

“Okay,” she says and Fenrys’ smile is genuine and a part of her lifts, it’s a start.

They share a car to the restaurant and he fills the journey with easy chatter. She appreciates it because she feels really fucking rusty. It’s been a while since she spoke to anyone outside of her immediate circle of friends and family, and it’s always been easy with them. This is different, but not unwelcome.

Sometimes she worries that, as much as they love her, Aedion, Lysandra and Elide are inclined to tread lightly around her. She’d like to think that she’s not that fragile, that she could take the full front of their humour and teasing like she used to, but then remembers when Fenrys’ joke fell flat for her in the trailer and she thinks again.

Either way, the cast and crew here don’t treat her like she’s broken, or even breakable, and it’s refreshing.

Fenrys leads the way into the restaurant, and there’s definitely paparazzi down the street snapping away at them as they cross the short distance from the car to the door. She tries to ignore it, she’ll text Elide once they’re done here, even though Elide will probably be overjoyed. It’s probably (definitely) easier to publicise your talent when she’s out there doing things with other famous people compared to staying inside her home alone.

Fenrys greets the staff on the door and they lead them through the restaurant to a staircase at the back of the room and it leads up to a private space with only one table. Right, privacy. Some of these guys are proper celebrities.

They’re the last ones there, and there’s two seats left at the table. Manon is here, so is Rowan and one of the executive producers who she thinks is called Gavriel.

“Alright guys, you all know Aelin,” Fenrys says and she smiles as they greet her.

Fenrys holds a chair out for her, the one next to Rowan, and she slides into it as he takes the one on her other side.

Rowan offers her a quirk of his lips, one she returns as she takes him in. He’s wearing short sleeves this time and she gets a good look at the tattoo snaking the whole way down his left arm. It’s in the Old Language and she can’t read it, even though her father had spent hours trying to teach her when she was a kid, but the lettering is beautiful and neat. She wants to reach out and touch, to trace the lines that roll down his golden skin.

She doesn’t. Obviously.

A waiter comes over to take their drink orders, Fenrys gets a beer, Manon and Gavriel opt for wine, but Rowan asks for an orange juice. He’s not drinking either and she wonders if it’s related to the reason he needs this movie to go well. So she’s nosy? So what?

She sits back and observes as the conversation flows, laughing along at the easy banter that flows between the three men and the sarcastic quips Manon throws in. Fenrys clearly understated his relationship with Rowan, they seem tight and have a clear fondness for one another. It’s easy to slot herself in as the night progresses, snarking with Manon and joining in with the general light-hearted mockery of Fenrys.

She thinks maybe so far she’s got Rowan wrong.

Tonight he’s quick-witted and charming, and he makes his best effort to include her in the conversation which she appreciates. It’s a contrast to the dark and teasing side of him she’s seen so far in the hallway and the table read. Maybe he’s decided to just start again, pretend they never met before she was cast, and she can do that too.

“So, Aelin.” Manon turns the spotlight to her after a while. “Tell us the scoop. I’ve not seen you in anything for a while.”

It’s not a nasty question, Aelin can just tell from the way she asks it, nothing more than genuine curiosity lies in her tone even if the phrasing is somewhat harsh. Manon might not be the bubbliest of characters, she’s blunt and doesn’t beat around the bush, but she’s not unkind, and Aelin doubts if she knew the truth she’d ask that question in such a way.

Elide managed to keep the worst of her… career break? One could phrase it more like breakdown, out of the limelight. She somehow managed to keep the worst of it hidden, and Aelin will owe her that for the rest of her life.

All the world knows is that Sam was murdered when they were both still newbies to their respective industries, neither of them had had their big break yet, and after that she took a break. For three years.

She remembers the headlines from the time, most were in smaller magazines, Sam wasn’t famous enough to make the front pages. Her mouth tastes like bile.

Singer-Songwriter Sam Cortland, 20, murdered in random street attack in Orynth, girlfriend Aelin Ashryver unharmed and working with police to identify suspect.

No one knows she knelt there in his blood begging for him to open his eyes, not even Aedion, or Lysandra or Elide, and she blinks back the image now. Her hands are curled into fists below the table and she forces herself to uncurl them and lay them flat against her jeans.

“Yeah,” she says after clearing her throat. “I took a break from it all for a few years, but I’m back now obviously and really excited for it.”

Manon nods and Gavriel raises a glass. He’s been nothing but kind to her all night. He kind of reminds her of her father, though he’s not that old, probably not even forty yet. He’s softly spoken and counters each snarky comment from Fenrys or Manon with something softer but no less amusing.

“Good to hear,” Fenrys says with a grin, clinking his glass against Gavriel’s.

The way Rowan watches her as he raises his own glass in a toast to her, careful and without speaking, tells her he knows. At least the basics about Sam, and it seems like maybe he did google her just like she joked back at the table read.

Their meals arrive then, mercifully taking the attention away from her. She needs to find a better way to deal with the attention than shutting down, especially if this film is going to be as big as everyone thinks it will be. She should call her therapist.

She will.

Eventually.

They leave the restaurant not long after, Fenrys covering the bill, emphasising that this was a celebration and an initiation for Aelin. She almost blushes for some unknown reason at his words, but she likes it. It sounds good. Like she really is back, or at least will be.

They each give her their numbers, and she likes the way he’s in her phone now as Rowan rather than Rowan Whitethorn, it feels like he’s not just someone from work. Not just her boss.

They each say goodbye and share a series of embraces, ignoring the small group of paparazzi that follow, desperate for any kind of incriminating image of any of the five of them. It’s clear that most of them are here for Fenrys, but she still makes sure to keep her expression clear and guarded as Rowan wraps her into a one-armed hug when they leave. It’s not just for the paparazzi.

Back in her apartment, when she’s tucked up in bed knowing she should be asleep, she can’t stop herself from googling him. She’s honestly surprised she’s lasted this long.

The first few news articles to come up are all about the movie and she scrolls past them, instead pulling up his Wikipedia page and scrolling straight to the personal life section. Maybe this is the weirdest way anyone’s ever got to know a friend, but she’s intrigued and still slightly flustered by him so it will do.

The section on his personal life is relatively bare, and it doesn’t surprise her. His Instagram account alone told her pretty explicitly that he’s a private kind of guy. She almost scrolls away after the first few lines, they don’t give her much information other than the college he went to and the languages he speaks, but she reads the final few lines of the section anyway.

In March 2018 Whitethorn’s fiance, Lyria Woods, passed away as the result of a road traffic accident. The driver of the other vehicle was found to be under the influence of alcohol at the time of the accident and was later sentenced to 6 years in prison for death by dangerous driving. Woods was 12 weeks pregnant with their child at the time of the accident.

Only a couple of weeks after the Oscars that she and Lysandra watched. She does the maths and realises this is his first film since then and thinks she knows what Fenrys meant.

Fucking shit.

Her second day of shooting goes better than the first, just as Fenrys said it would.

She’s more relaxed when she crosses the set from her trailer with a coffee in hand and she thinks she knows her place a little better now, even after only one night spent with the others.

She lies back while her make up is done, chatting to the make-up artist instead of sitting silently like the day before, and she’s almost ready for the discomfort that her wet hair will bring. The weather adds to the atmosphere of the film, dark and dreary and moody, and she gets why they’re doing it, but it still sucks.

Fenrys is ready when she gets there, and while she’s not avoiding Rowan today after finding out about his… past, she just finds it difficult to look him in the eye knowing what she does. He probably wouldn’t be surprised that she knew, if it’s on Wikipedia it’s public knowledge and they have made jokes about googling each other, but she feels weird in a way that she didn’t learn it from him. It feels intrusive, or invasive, to find out about something like that through Wikipedia.

But even though they bonded somewhat last night, and he greeted her this morning with an easy hey, they’re still not close. No matter that she thinks she might want them to be. She’s trying again to ignore the way she feels drawn to him, the way her eyes seek him out without her permission.

She knows she kills the take. Knows it from the high five Fenrys slaps against her palm once Rowan’s called cut and from the swift nod he offers her when she glances towards him.

There seem to be two Rowan’s too, there’s the award winning director Rowan Whitethorn, and then just Rowan.

Rowan Whitethorn is cool and calculating and distant, quiet while he watches their scene from his place behind the camera, the big black headphones he uses pushed down around his neck. His eyes are as sharp as a hawk’s while he watches for all the minute details of their expressions and any improvements they could make. He doesn’t give her that many she’s pleased to note.

The way he instructs them is impressive, with clear directions and thoughtful analyses. She’s been here two days and she knows how he got the Oscar nomination, he’s scarily intelligent and seems to know exactly what’s off about a performance before she figures it out herself.

The other side to him, the side that is just Rowan is…

Just Rowan is the one she likes more.

She suspects the smile he gives her later, after they’ve nailed the bulk of the scene in one take and she’s being twirled around by Fenrys, comes from him.

She has two full days off in a row, and she decides the best use of her time is to go and stay with Aedion and Lysandra. Fenrys isn’t free, and the reason she is is that he has a load of solo scenes to shoot, and she doesn’t envy him at all.

Lysandra is ecstatic when she announces via a group text to her and Aedion that she’ll be at their house for lunchtime, and she loves it, but it makes her feel a little guilty. That she’s let it get to the point when her friend reacts like that at her promise of a visit is quite frankly appalling, but she finally feels as if she’s taken the first step. She’s on the bottom rung of the ladder, and it’s taken her a while, but she’s there now.

Aedion and Lysandra live in a disgustingly big house in a gated part of the suburbs, and she knows the house isn’t exactly what they would have chosen in an ideal world, it’s too big and garish and grey, but there are gates by the entrance and 24 hour security.

It still messes with her head that Aedion is that famous. Aedion. Her gangly cousin, always too tall for his own good, who used to pull her hair when they were kids and sneak her extra helpings of cake at family parties before her parents divorced. She doesn’t know that much about football, so little in fact that her dad and Aedion teased her relentlessly for years, but everyone tells her he’s good.

Like really good.

The salary he gets from the Ravens is more than enough proof.

She rings their front door bell and she can hear Lysandra’s quick steps before the big wooden door is pulled open.

Her friend is glowing. Her dark hair falls into waves near the end and her staggeringly beautiful face is free of any make-up and unblemished and dewy. She’s had time to get over the insecurities that come from being friends with Lysandra so it barely phases her as she wraps her arms around her friend.

“I’ve missed you,” she whispers into Lysandra’s hair. It smells like coconut and citrus and just Lysandra.

“I missed you too. So much,” Lysandra sighs as she pulls back, dragging Aelin into the house and shutting the door.

Their hallway is grand and open but there’s a pile of their shoes by the wall and a rack of coats that make it feel more homely. There are framed photos carefully arranged on the sideboard in the entry way that show the two of them with their whole family and all of their friends.

There’s one on there of Aelin and Lysandra at eighteen, their arms thrown tightly around each other while they grin massive, excited smiles at the camera, or more likely Elide behind it. She remembers the day it was taken, Lysandra had signed to her first agency and arranged to move to Rifthold, and they had taken her out to celebrate.

It was around the same time she signed for her first movie, a tiny role with two lines and twenty seconds of screen time but it got the ball rolling with her first proper acting credit, and she’ll never forget it.

A head of golden hair pokes around the kitchen doorway at the end of the hall and she lets her cousin sweep her up into a hug, swinging her up and around so her feet dangle above the floor.

“Alien, we’ve missed you.”

A stupid nickname from when they were young, the kind of young where he thought it was hilarious to replace her name with an extraterrestrial, but it only makes her smile now, squeezing her cousin tight before he puts her back down.

“Yeah, I bet you’ve been lost without me.” She beams at them, taking a moment to soak in how it feels to be with them even as Aedion rolls his eyes. “I’ve missed you both too.”

“Lunch is ready, come on,” Aedion tells her as he takes her case and drags it through the house, leaving it by the bottom of the stairs. It’s then that she spots the frilly pink apron tied around his waist.

“Alright,” she laughs. “I can’t wait to try what the domestic goddess has in store for us.”

Peals of laughter burst out of Lysandra and she grins back at her, forever grateful that they managed to keep their relationship with each other from ever impacting on their relationship with Aelin. At first she had been worried that Aedion and Lysandra would become AedionAndLysandra and that she wouldn’t have a place left with them, but she needn’t have worried, and they worked too well together for Aelin to have ever wished for anything different.

“Gods, shut up,” he mutters, slinging an arm around her shoulders and leading her to the kitchen. “So annoying, both of you.”

She grins as she hears Lysandra smack an overly dramatic kiss to his cheek.

Aedion’s a surprisingly good cook, the lunch he’s made is tasty despite being carefully planned to fit into both his and Lysandra’s strict meal plans. If they’re the cost needed to be able to live in a house like this, Aelin doesn’t want it.

“So,” Aedion says after he’s finished chewing a mouthful. “How are things going?”

He asks it with a gentle kind of sensitivity that she understands what he’s really asking. She knows it’s code for are you still sober? but she also knows he hasn’t asked it because he doubts her. Aedion and Lysandra have always been in her corner, even in her darkest moments they were there.

She never wants to put them through anything like that ever again. Never wants them to experience anything as terrifying as the last night she ever touched a drug. That night, almost a year ago now, will forever be the bottom of her pit. She doesn’t remember much of it, other than the devastation on Aedion’s face as he carried her out of the men’s toilets of a seedy nightclub in Perranth. The way he’d bitten his lip as he picked her up off the sticky floor, pulling the hem of her dress down to cover her underwear where it had ridden up.

The thought makes her sick.

He’d had to skip a game, leading to a bollocking from his coach, but he’d done it for her. Had carried her out of the club and into a car, waiting to take them back to his house. Lysandra had stroked her hair where she lay on the cool tiles of the bathroom floor while Aedion called a doctor to the house. Even through his panic he had thought of her and how little she would want it publicised that she’d been pulled out of a club, off her fucking rocker on whatever substance she’d been given by the lowlives she had fallen in with. She’s really, really lucky that for once Aedion hadn’t been followed by paparazzi.

She takes a sip of her sparkling water before she answers, it feels like all she ever drinks these days and it tastes like shit but it’s worth it if she never reverts back to where she was.

“I’m good.” She’s almost surprised to find that it’s true. “I’m feeling much better.”

She can barely look at them, can barely take the level of subdued joy on their faces.

“We’re glad Aelin, really glad.” Lysandra’s voice is sincere.

“So, how’s the new project going?” Aedion asks her, sensing her discomfort almost immediately.

“That’s good too actually.” It is. It feels good to have something positive to focus on, something that she feels is productive and worth doing. “It’s nice to be back and be busy even if the morning shoots begin disgustingly early. It’s good to be on set, surrounded by it all again and to remember that I can actually do this.”

She stabs her fork through a piece of tomato a little aggressively as she finishes and the look Lysandra shoots her tells her she’s not impressed with the self-deprecation but that she’ll let it slide for now.

“And Fenrys Moonbeam, is he really that good looking in real life?”

Aelin laughs. “More actually, sometimes it's too much.”

“Nice,” Lysandra nods appreciatively.

“Is he alright though?” Ever the overprotective older brother figure, she expected some version of this question from Aedion.

“He’s great. He’s hilarious and it really helps on the long days,” she says before taking her next bite.

“And Rowan Whitethorn’s directing isn’t he? What’s he like?”

Aelin blinks and finishes chewing slowly. “He’s… fine.”

She knows she’s fucked it when Aedion and Lysandra share a look, matching smirks beginning on each of their faces.

“Fine,” Lysandra repeats. “What exactly does fine mean Aelin?”

She purses her lips. “He’s a great director.”

Lysandra rolls her eyes. “And?”

She could probably lie here, they’d probably let it slide if she said some bullshit about how they’ve not spoken much and how she barely knows him, but she honestly needs to talk to someone about this. You know, to set her straight.

“And he’s really hot.”

She’s blushing as Lysandra laughs and Aedion chuckles.

“You’ve got a crush,” Lysandra sing-songs, and when she doesn't respond she says, “Have you got a picture of him? I don’t think I actually know what he looks like.”

She can’t blame Lysandra for that, she’s still kicking herself for not recognising him that day in the hallway, but he was only on screen for a few seconds at the Oscars and it wasn’t long after Sam so it wasn’t like she was paying attention in that way. She still thinks she should have noticed.

She pulls her phone out to find the only picture she has on there with Rowan. She had only taken it this week when they were eating breakfast with Fenrys one morning, in one of the tents that had been set up for them to sit in between takes, and Fenrys had pulled his phone out to snap a photo of her for his Instagram story.

She’d been wrapped up in one of the huge parkas they’re given for the times in between scenes holding her croissant high up in the air when he’d taken it. He’d captioned it she could have dropped her croissant and tagged her, and she’d gained a good few thousand followers. She’s almost at a million and they’re only a couple of weeks into shooting.

She had taken one of him in response and then spun around to force Rowan into a selfie with her, he’d protested but she’d pouted until he relented, grumbling something about actors that she knew he didn’t mean. She didn’t post it anywhere, she kept it to herself and she can’t lie, she’s looked at it way too many times since.

She’s smiling a wide smile, cheeks stuffed full of her croissant and it’s really kind of gross, but the small smile on Rowan’s face makes it bearable. More than bearable, she has to resist the temptation to make it her lock screen because that would be weird.

She remembers the heat of his chest where he had stood behind her to lean down so their faces were level, the hand he rested on her shoulder to steady himself and the way his fingers had brushed against her neck in the lightest caress.

She hands the phone over to Lysandra and wants to pull it back almost immediately.

It’s not that she’s embarrassed or whatever, even if they think it’s a bad idea they’d let her down gently, it's just that their opinion matters to her a lot. And while they haven’t exactly approved of her string of random hookups in the years since Sam, they’ve never tried to comment on it other than to check she’s in a good place with it, but she knows they’re waiting for the next person she sees seriously.

There’s a fairly large part of her that thinks her first relationship since Sam shouldn’t be with her boss. And that fucks her up a bit, because since when was she considering a relationship with him?

“Oh yeah,” Lysandra says, scaring away the intrusive thought and raising one perfectly arched eyebrow. “He’s hot alright.”

Aedion nods along, peering over Lysandra’s shoulder. Lysandra’s eyes are far too knowing when she looks back up at Aelin and passes the phone over. She doesn’t say a word before locking the phone and sliding it back into her pocket.

“You’ll have to invite us to set sometime.” Lysandra is sneaky but not subtle.

“I will,” she agrees.

The next week flies by, she shoots every single day but one, and she’s far too exhausted each night to do anything other than scrounge up a measly meal that can be pulled together from her cupboard basics and the limited vegetables in her fridge before falling straight asleep. They’ve made good progress so far, and she knows it's going to be good, but she’s tired.

She’s seen a lot more of the process outside of her own character by now too, and she’s amazed, but not surprised, when she persuades one of the crew to let her watch back one of Fenrys’ solo scenes from the previous week. He’s a phenomenal actor, that much is clear, but she had allowed herself to get caught up in Fenrys as her friend, the happy and funny guy she spends her time with, forgetting the talented and driven lead actor of their movie.

Not that she can forget it in the scenes they share, but she’s mostly concentrating on the emotions her character is going through, and responding to what Fenrys gives her. It almost feels too natural for him, and she forgets that it takes work.

His text meets her at lunchtime on the Sunday they both have off, when she’s still in her pyjamas on the couch, debating whether to start a new series or watch the latest cheesy rom-com that Netflix has released.

She auditioned for one of them a couple of years ago, and she’s far enough past the bitterness that comes with not getting the role that she could enjoy it. Maybe a little, cynical part of herself thinks she’s glad she didn’t get it. What she has now is far better. She’s being a snob, but she straight up doesn’t care. It’s not like anyone else is here to judge her.

Fancy coming to Rowan’s to watch the game? I’m leaving in 20 his text reads.

She didn’t plan on doing anything today, but the invitation sparks something in her, and she’s never been to Rowan’s place before. The studio put him in a house about thirty minutes from set, and she’s curious. How much luxury does the big name director get compared to what she and Fenrys have got? She’s lucky really, that Dorian managed to negotiate the same for her as they offered Fenrys.

rowan’s??? She replies, followed by what game????

She gets up off the couch, putting the lid on the tub of yoghurt she was tucking into with a spoon and walking through to the kitchen to throw it back into the fridge.

Tall, grumpy guy that bosses us around all the time comes through a minute later and she grins at her phone at the description. It’s followed up by Ravens v Panthers.

She taps out, getting changed will be ready in 15 and he replies with three smiling emojis.

She doesn’t think it will be anything fancy if her impromptu invitation is anything to go by so she only swaps her pyjama bottoms with tiny cartoon sheep down the legs for a pair of black leggings and throws a sweatshirt over her oversized t-shirt.

Manon is there when they get there, sprawled across the two seater sofa at the far side of Rowan’s living room, and she gives them both a wave when they enter the room. The house is a pretty modest, two-up two-down in a sweet neighbourhood and it’s cosy inside with relatively modern decor. She doesn’t know for sure whether or not that fits Rowan, but she feels like it does.

He doesn’t let them in, Fenrys swings the door open and marches in like it’s his own place and she wonders how much he and Rowan have hung out, or whether that’s just him. Rowan appears in the doorway about a minute after they come in, a bowl of snacks in his hand that she thinks could be popcorn and he puts it down before coming over to wrap Fenrys in a hug. They slap each other on the back in the way that guys do before pulling back.

Aelin stands at Fenrys’ side watching the exchange, unsure whether to greet Rowan or just take a seat, and once they’re done he seems to regard her with the same sort of uncertainty. Fenrys darts around Rowan to throw himself onto the other sofa and she doesn’t give herself long enough to doubt her decision before she opens her arms and steps towards him.

“Hey,” he says simply as he wraps her into a brief hug. “Thanks for coming.”

She wraps her arms around his own broad shoulders, and it feels nice. He’s warm and strong beneath her hands and the way his arms loop around her waist, so far his hands reach back around to her stomach, gets her in a way that she really doesn’t need to think about. It feels really good pressed up against him like that.

“Hey,” she breathes as he pulls back, and she knows he sees the blush on her cheeks. She’s not fifteen, she really needs to sort herself out. “Thanks for having us.”

“Of course, make yourself at home.” He gives her another half smile, offering a flash of his straight, white teeth, and again she’s struck by him. That his place is behind the camera is a crime. “I’ve got more snacks and drinks in the kitchen if you want.”

“Beer?” Fenrys asks her, already heading to a door that she assumes leads to the kitchen.

She shakes her head, “do you have sparkling water?” She directs the question to Rowan who nods.

He doesn’t have to speak before Fenrys says “on it,” and leaves the room.

She assesses the seating choices left in the room, there’s a cream two-seater sofa opposite where Manon lies, and that’s probably her best bet, but Rowan has already taken his seat on it, an ankle crossed over a knee as he settles into the cushions. There’s plenty of room to sit by him and not touch, and she weighs it up against having to ask Manon to move.

She’s friendly with the girl, but still feels slightly intimidated by the calculating and sarcastic blonde despite the fact that she’s a few years younger than Aelin herself, so maybe Rowan is the safer choice.

Fenrys comes back into the room just as she takes her seat.

“Move your feet, Blackbeak,” he demands as he hands her a glass of sparkling water, it’s chilled with a couple of cubes of ice and she appreciates it.

Manon lifts her legs for Fenrys to sit, but plops her legs back down across his lap immediately and sticks her tongue out at him as she does. Aelin feels herself smile at the display, and the fact that she’s included in this circle of friends. She hasn’t really made an effort with anyone new since Sam, the only people she’s really spoken to are Elide, Lysandra and Aedion, and they were all there for her before Sam. It feels really damn good.

She really, really, doesn’t understand the rules of football, but it’s easy enough to cheer along when the others do and laugh at their outrage when something doesn’t go their way. It’s the most animated she’s seen Rowan so far, and she’s not quite sure which way their allegiances lie, but it’s probably with the Ravens being in Rifthold and all, and she knows her own is.

Everytime Aedion gets the ball or is shown on screen she can’t hold back the cheers. She’s proud of him and she knows how hard he works to be as good as he is, and even knowing as little as she does, it's special to watch him excel.

Rowan and Fenrys both seem a little starstruck that he’s her cousin, to her he’s just Aedion and they’re the real, scary celebrities, but they gush about him like starstruck little boys.

“And you were at his house last weekend?” Fenrys cries, almost outraged that this is the first he’s ever heard of it, but honestly? They’re both Ashryvers; it’s not like it's a secret.

“Yes,” she laughs. “He’s basically like my brother.”

“Gods, Aelin.” He sounds almost pained that she hasn’t brought this up before. “You've been holding out on us! Please give me his number or introduce me or something.”

“Sorry.” She laughs again and throws a smile to Rowan that he returns with another quirk of his lips. “Invite me earlier next time and I’ll ask him to sort a box for us at the stadium.”

“Seriously?” Even Rowan sounds awed now.

“Yeah, just let me know,” she says. “It’s no big deal.”

It really wouldn't be, Aedion has been telling her for years to invite any friends she wants to games, she would just need some friends outside of him, Lysandra and Elide first.

“It’s definitely a big deal,” he says, watching her with a smirk still playing on his lips.

She shrugs. “Just make sure you text me early next time.”

“Oh, I will,” he says, and she has to look away from him. The way his voice curves around the words, all low and intense, is definitely about more than just the game.

She tries to pass it off as just looking to where Fenrys is cheering loudly at the next play, but Manon is there again, looking at her with such a knowing expression that she immediately focuses back on the TV.

At half time she needs to use the bathroom and Rowan gives her a quick rundown of the layout of the house. She’s quick to do her thing and runs by the kitchen afterwards to grab a refill of her drink and find something to eat.

Rowan had told them all to help themselves, explaining that he felt they had as much right as he to poke through the cupboards in the only just filled rental property and she gets it. The places the studio rent out for them are nice enough, and she’s more than grateful that they do, but it’s never quite home. Even if her home is somewhat impersonal, it’s still home.

She’s on her tiptoes, scanning through the relatively well stocked cupboards on the hunt for anything chocolate, when someone enters the kitchen behind her.

“I know I said help yourselves, but you’re going to eat me out of house and home at this rate.”

It’s Rowan, and he leans against the doorframe as he watches her startle and spin to face him, his legs are crossed at the ankles and his arms are folded over his chest. The pose highlights his powerful arms that she wants to be wrapped up in again and he looks really good in the dim lighting of the kitchen. It bounces off the lines of his tattoo, shining and highlighting the swirls that she can barely look away. She wants to ask what it means.

Aelin scoffs and pushes the cupboard door shut gently, they’re not eating that much and if they are it’s definitely not her, Fenrys and Manon are another story.

“There’s nothing stopping you from kicking us all out,” she says and he laughs, shaking his head.

He tilts his head to the side, his gaze picking her apart by the second before he says “maybe not all of you.”

His words and the way he shifts in the doorway as his eyes run her up and down gives her the confidence to bite her lip and look up at him through her lashes. He pushes off the door frame and comes to lean against the counter by her side.

He opens a cupboard door on her other side and rummages through a shelf before handing her a foil packet.

“I have a feeling this is what you were after.”

She accepts the chocolate and tucks it onto the counter at her side as she mirrors him and leans against it too.

“Unsurprisingly, you’d be correct.”

He presses his lips together before his lips twist again, it’s the same expression from before that she knows means he wants to smile but he can’t quite commit, and she feels her body loosen like she wants to lean forward to press into him. She doesn’t though.

What she does instead is take a sharp breath and a step back. “Thanks.” She waves the bar of chocolate in the air before stepping around him and making her way back into the living room, forcing her steps to seem calm and collected as she feels his gaze heavy on her back.

“Anytime.” His words follow her out of the room, they’re a promise.

Luckily, Fenrys and Manon both ignore it when Rowan follows her and retakes his place next to her.

#rowaelin #throne of glass #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #rowaelin au #ndilyd #nobody does it like you do #cw: minor character death

96 notes · View notes

moldygreenblue · 3 years ago

Text

things from the asoue movie

(i personally think did better than netflix asoue, with “honorary mentions” that i can tolerate in ways.)

1. the movie soundtrack. thomas newman composes a lot of good scores, and everything in the asoue movie soundtrack is no exception (drive away is a real head banger). the fact it’s all on youtube, means one can jam to it whenever they go on youtube (i’m guilty of this). i love the netflix soundtrack a lot as well because shoot that is jim dooley’s music (i love his music ever since pushing daisies came out!). but netflix...where’s the official soundtrack? the fact jim dooley’s youtube channel has him uploading songs via request means he’s the only one to listen to the fans who want the show’s soundtrack is why the movie did better because of netflix’s poor treatment by not releasing it. it has to be jim dooley himself having to do it (and i appreciate him doing so because omg i can finally hear the tpp version ‘that’s not how the story goes’ without lemony talking over *tears up*)

2. the vfd group photo. everyone in the photo feels all organic and real. you got members sitting on the floor and steps. some members are standing. some members smiling happy to be there, or with neutral expressions because they don’t want to be there. some are in gestures of sorts (ike is flexing his arm like a goofball; that’s a nice touch to flesh out a dead minor character). it almost feels like the movie team decided ‘since we have the budget, we should get billy connolly, meryl streep, and others to take a photo and we’re telling them they can do whatever they want’. netflix’s vfd feels artificial and very, fake in ways. i don’t want to say it’s a bad photoshop, because group photos can have everyone stand in neat little row all smiles, but some heads feel...off. like, something feels really off with larry, ike, and uh, the guy i think is lemony who is clearly got the worst of it. is that a bad photoshop?

3. the littlest elf. the movie made that elf have a (minor) presence from beginning to end. there’s the fake out opening. the theme song from the fake out opening is heard three more times (twice in-verse, and it’s the final song in the credits) and it’s annoyingly catchy. olaf having a bobble head doll so shoot that means it’s popular franchise in the movie world. the movie made the littlest elf a thing, and netflix only makes it a word-of-mouth reference. what’s weirder for netflix is gustav despite having more of a character and kept his director status (unlike movie!gustav), never bring up this horrific masterpiece and the connection between the two (that i can recall). like, this is not cool, netflix!

4. movie!monty being able to carry snakes and having a personal snake. the movie probably had the budget to do so unlike netflix, but monty in any continuity would carry a snake with him if possible, even for a short amount of time. movie!monty goes up a level by being a giddy herpetologist with his own personal pet snake he loves and adore (sidenote: movie!monty, that’s why petunia thinks you’re a tree you always carry her around. you spoil her rotten). netflix!monty with the winged lizard is not the same vibe, because it’s cgi. i think netflix!monty should have hold a real snake for at least a minute, as a treat.

5. two-thirds of the wide window section. it’s not that i think the netflix version is bad, for i do enjoy it. but there’s so many details in the movie version i enjoy: josephine and her poofy black mourning dress. klaus dissociating in the kitchen and josephine losing it. josephine casually telling the children ‘oh no he [ike] got eaten by leeches’ and the baudelaires are all (O_o) and sunny speaks for them all. the fact josephine is strong enough to pull the chain to show off the wide window all by herself and violet and klaus are still (O_o). josephine screaming at the jane lynch cameo + “we got to get her out of the house.”. sunny accidentally dropping the apple basket. klaus tackling captain sham shamelessly. the baudelaires getting accuse of shoplifting. everything about hurricane herman, especially with josephine’s fears coming true. klaus assuming violet may kill them all with her plan to get off the platform.

the fact that the deleted/extended version of josephine’s death is so messed up (josephine realizing she can’t jump, josephine allowing herself to sit back on the boat, crying as she apologizes, the fog covering her and the boat), i truly think the wide window was the book the movie team attempted to do the series right in their own way, but meddling got involve.

and now, honorary mentions.

honorary mention 1: movie!powder face women ages. i don’t know what is up with their personalities (i’m including deleted scenes), but you know what? the movie team did cast two actresses who fit the age range of the sbg. had the movie continued in hypothetical sequels, i would have 100% believe their recruitment into vfd is connected to the loss of their sibling in a fire. netflix!powder face women are older than their movie counterparts (and maybe book counterparts, taking brett helquist’s illustrations of them as them being on the younger side), so when netflix decided to make ishmael the creator of vfd, they pretty much made a giant hole of a contradiction over their statement of losing a sibling to a fire (unless they aged very badly). netflix due to their major changes of vfd, made the movie look good in a weird way. honorary mention because movie series is dead in the water, and their characterization.

honorary mention 2: the baudelaire’s mansion. the exterior only shows up for one second in its glory before fernald stabs his hook into the photo, but given how the ruins are shown a lot, it’s easy to tell the mansion isn’t super huge, but still huge and noticeable. its location being in middle of the street holding a corner spot of sorts means looking from high above does give the illusion it’s in the ‘heart of a dirty and busy city’. the netflix mansion...it’s something. the netflix mansion looks like it’s borderline on a suburb neighborhood, and the mansion takes up six lots like this not what i thought in mind. it’s honorary mention because the exterior shows up for one second (and i’m not sure how to feel about the interior).

honorary mention 3: movie!lemony hiding his face 24/7. netflix!lemony showing his face is because he’s narrating the series from the future. whenever (past) netflix!lemony shows up, there’s is a sense (future) netflix!lemony is trying to avoid narrating himself because it screams, “oh hey that’s me! oh wait that’s me. i’m just...going to go.” and he leaves and only comes back after he’s certain past!lemony is gone. as much i as actually enjoy what netflix did, i do like the ‘i’m not going to show my face, suckers’ angle lemony has in the books.

the movie carries this over. lemony’s face is always not in the shot because the movie is showing his body head down, obscure by shadows, or do show his face but partly. the whole ‘my ribbon just jam’ bit still has lemony still refusing to not show his face. in fact, it’s hard to find a shot where his face is ‘visible’ without editing the lighting and shadows and what not until the ending, when lemony gets his transcript out of the typewriter due to the lighting of the lamp:

it’s a honorary mention because excluding lemony having no shame on interrupting the fake out opening, no shame on telling the audience to jump out the airplane if they’re watching the movie there, the ‘ribbon just jammed’ moment (if only because movie!lemony blank out afterwards), and technically lemony being melancholic after looking out the spyglass (lemony would totally do that, but in a different context), movie!lemony doesn’t do a lot of things that make him be, well, lemony. that, and movie!lemony’s aesthetics still confuses me to this day.

#asoue #a series of unfortunate events #asoue movie #moldy watching movies #this is actually old tbh #like a few months old #but it's still relevant #i don't think netflix still released an official soundtrack

48 notes · View notes

blitzturtles · 3 years ago

Text

Title: Goldie

Rating: Teen and Up

Fandom: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Stardust Crusaders (Future Fic)

Pairing(s): JotaKak

Summary: “I was going to replace him if that ever happened. Shit.”

“You-- what?”

Notes: Vent fic after losing one of our dogs this weekend. Fic features minor animal death, so please be careful.

“Goldie isn’t moving!” Jolyne announces from the doorway of the kitchen while Kakyoin is busy brewing coffee. It’s early, too early for Kakyoin to be awake, and certainly too early for Jolyne to be having a crisis, but Kakyoin nods as he allows himself to be dragged along. Surely Goldie is merely sleeping. Too still for an energetic child like Jolyne. Only he sees it the moment he rounds the corner. Where Goldie is indeed unmoving. Worse, Goldie is on his back, floating rather than swimming.

“Oh,” Kakyoin breathes before he can stop himself, and Jolyne must see it in his eyes because she breaks into a loud sob that strikes Kakyoin to the core, where panic is already building. In all the time he’s spent desperately consuming books on parenting--an attempt on his part to catch up on missed time--none of those books had ever once mentioned how to deal with a child’s first death. Much less one that surrounds their beloved pet fish.

“He’s dead!” Jolyne all but wails, and Kakyoin can’t exactly argue with that, though he wishes he could think of something to say.

“Jolyne--” He starts, and it’s a very strong start if he does say so himself. His voice is relatively steady, and he gets her attention focused on him rather than on the upside down fish. But then he falters at seeing her eyes filled with tears and tracks already down her cheeks. There’s a thickness in his own throat now. One that makes swallowing difficult, but he does his best to clear his throat, so he can make another attempt. “Goldie might be asleep. We just--” He cuts himself off with a near howl as her little foot stomps no less than three of his toes.

“He’s dead!” Jolyne shouts it this time. More anger now than overwhelming grief, though her eyes shine in the reflection of the aquarium’s light.

Kakyoin opens his mouth to say something, but she’s really got the unfortunate aim of her father. What would be nothing to anyone else is a shot of pain up frayed nerves, and it travels from the tips of his toes to the base of his spine so quickly that it nearly drops him to his knees. He tries again to speak, but she’s gone in a blink. Off around the corner and disappearing passed the doorway of her bedroom before he can form a single word. Jotaro’s sliding to a halt outside of their bedroom door at the same time, apparently jolted awake after all the ruckus.

“What the fuck?” Jotaro asks, making his way to Kakyoin quickly. He rests one hand on his stomach, for Kakyoin to lean into, and the other on the small of his back, ready to catch his husband should his knees buckle entirely.

“Goldie,” Kakyoin says, waving a hand vaguely toward the offending animal.

Jotaro looks confused at first, but he’s perceptive enough to at least look in the aquarium’s direction when he hears the name of Jolyne’s beloved pet fish. “Oh shit,” he breathes, and oh shit, indeed, Kakyoin thinks. “I was going to replace him if that ever happened. Shit.”

“You-- what?” Kakyoin demands, breathless still and utterly in disbelief.

“Well, I didn’t actually expect it to happen,” Jotaro pointed out. He carefully removes his hands from Kakyoin’s midsection and hesitates a moment before moving away entirely. He makes his way over to the aquarium and winces. “He’s not that old. I wonder-- anyway. I was just going to replace him. She’s too young to deal with this shit.”

“You can’t just lie to her about death,” or maybe he can. Kakyoin’s the step-parent here, and, again, none of the books said anything about how to deal with a definitely dead fish (even the Marine Biologist agrees with his initial assessment, which means there’s no getting out of this.)

“She’s six, Nori,” Jotaro scrubs a hand over his face. Then both. His fingers rake through his hair after that, and he pulls at the ends. All of it is an attempt to clear the last of sleep from his mind and allow his brain to think past the fog. None of it works.

“I know,” Kakyoin sighs. He doesn’t like this either. He remembers his own childhood and growing up relatively sheltered from at least that one aspect of the brutality that is life. “What do we do now?”

“I have no idea,” Jotaro admits after a moment, and that makes Kakyoin slump. Both in defeat and in relief. At least he isn’t alone in this. There’s no chapter he skipped over or paragraph that he skimmed. Neither one of them knows what to do, and suddenly that’s worse than the idea that Kakyoin’s gone and fucked all of this up on his own. If neither one of them knows what to do, then they’re both screwed.

“We should talk to her?” Kakyoin offers, more questioning than suggesting.

Jotaro nods after a moment. “Yeah, yeah, I guess so. Did she--”

“It’s not a big deal,” Kakyoin says quickly, waving a hand in Jotaro’s direction and dismissing the question before it can be asked. Jolyne’s upset. Overwhelmed and struggling to process her grief. It doesn’t totally excuse the behavior, but Kakyoin doesn’t think she meant to actually stomp on him so much as whatever happened to be in her way. It’s not ideal, but it’s better than the malicious alternative.

“Still,” Jotaro says after a moment, like he isn’t sure that he should be getting onto her, despite his own words. “I guess we should address the fish thing first.”

“Fish thing first,” Kakyoin agrees.

Jotaro makes his way to Jolyne’s bedroom. The door’s wide open, and there’s a distinctly child-shaped pile in the middle of the bed, hidden under a mountain of blankets and pillows. The effort would be more effective if not for the obvious trembling and the equally distinct sobs. His heart aches in his chest, and he sincerely regrets letting Kakyoin get up before him. If he had only caught sight of the damned fish before Jolyne…

“JoJo,” Jotaro calls in a soft voice. It’s enough for her to stop moving, but not enough for her to poke her head out. If anything, it’s almost like she’s trying even harder to hide from him, despite clearly being spotted. “Jo, we need to talk.”

“I’m sorry,” Jolyne says immediately. She scoots sideways, closer to the wall and further from Jotaro, but the man is quick to grab her before she makes contact with her skull. She lets out a startled yelp and instantly pops her head out from under the blankets on instinct. It all but breaks Jotaro’s heart to see the tears and snot smeared across her face, and her hair is somehow more of a mess than it usually is in the morning.

“It’s okay,” Jotaro starts before pausing and rethinking his words, “Well, it’s not, but we’ll talk about that later, alright? You’re already forgiven.” He won’t let that hang over her head. Not when she’s already in her own little hell. Struggling to deal with the loss of her favorite fish. Jolyne loves all the fish in the aquarium. Has given them all names, but Goldie is--was--her’s. Picked by her hand and bought with her own money.

Carefully, Jotaro pulls his daughter into his lap. He fixes the blankets so that they remain bundled around her. She’s like Noriaki in that she likes the constricting sensation of something being wrapped around her. Something about the weight of it seems to soothe their nerves. Jotaro’s never been one to question it. With Noriaki, it just makes sense. What with his Stand. For Jolyne, he figures it’s related to her age.

“I know this is a lot for you to deal with right now,” Jotaro says, barely refraining from wincing at his own words. He sounds too impersonal, but she’s quiet against him, aside from the sniffling and hiccups, which means she’s at least listening.

The rest of the conversation goes about as well as he expects. There’s a lot more tears and snot--most of which ends up on his nightshirt. Then there’s the questions. Plentiful as per usual with his daughter, but also painful in a way that he hadn’t been prepared for upon waking up. Then, of course, there’s the guilt of her taking her anger out on Noriaki. (“I really didn’t mean to,” she swears, and Jotaro reminds her that it’s her duty to explain that to Kakyoin herself.)

Overall, Jotaro thinks it’s not his worst moment as a parent. (That honor still goes to the day he explained that he and Marina would no longer be living together.)

They decide to go find Noriaki together, and they make it as far as the fish tank before Jolyne bursts into another round of tears and turns toward Jotaro with her arms raised. He doesn’t think twice about scooping her up and carrying her past the aquarium. Her head buries against his neck, and there’s a fresh wetness that makes his heart ache duly in his chest. Maybe replacing the fish would have been as much for his benefit as it would have been for her’s.

“Oh, JoJo,” Kakyoin says with a voice that sounds like he’s hurting for her as much as Jotaro.

Jolyne reaches out for him without fully letting go of Jotaro. She knows better than to put too much weight on Kakyoin, but the three stay like that for a while. With the two men pressed close and their daughter held between them.

#jolyne kujo #jotaro kujo #noriaki kakyoin #jotakak #kakyoin noriaki #jolyne cujoh #kid jolyne #blitzwrites #jjba #jjba part 3 #future fic #stardust crusaders #blitz

30 notes · View notes

qqueenofhades · 4 years ago

Note

Trump's SCOTUS pick scares the ever loving shit out of me. I'm trying not to have a full blown panic attack actually.

Sigh. I know.

I’m not going to say that picking someone literally, un-exaggeratedly out of The Handmaid’s Tale for SCOTUS, especially to replace someone like RBG, isn’t mother fucking terrifying. It is. Especially since Mitch McConnell is trying to set her final confirmation vote for October 29, literally five days before the election. Yes indeed, that would be a third Supreme Court seat filled by an impeached president who lost the popular vote by three million votes, (possibly) confirmed by Republican enablers (some of whom are absolutely going to lose their seats in this election) who represent a sizeably smaller fraction of the US population than their Democratic counterparts, in a display of outright, staggering, truly breathtaking hypocrisy about the protocol of election-year vacancies on SCOTUS, which they themselves shouted about to no end with Merrick Garland in 2016. This is how tyranny by minority rule works, and... yeah. It’s bad. It’s awful. When is this going to end.

That said, however: we do not yet exist in this theoretical grimdark future where some dystopian 6-3 (or even 7-2) conservative SCOTUS strips us of our rights at every turn, with no recourse except for us to sit passively and take it, and there are a lot of things that we ourselves can do between now and then to make sure that it never happens. First off, House Democrats have proposed a bill to introduce 18-year term limits for SCOTUS justices, rather than it being an automatic lifetime appointment. This would also give every president the ability to appoint two justices per four-year term. Because SCOTUS has become such an instrument of partisan warfare, and because the obvious implications of having a partisan head of state pick the senior federal judges for a lifetime is part of what has fucked us up now, this would be a GREAT improvement. House Dems can’t make it into law right now, because Democrats do not hold a majority in both chambers of Congress and they do not hold the presidency. You know how this COULD be passed? If Joe Biden was elected with a blue House and Senate. That way, even if God forbid the GOP horror show snuck Coney Barrett onto the bench just before the election, this could be fixed.

Here’s another way to think about it. I myself have a HUGE problem with catastrophizing: a bad thing happens, and then it seems like an inevitable chain of nonstop bad things until everything gets irredeemably, unfixably even worse. This year, obviously, has not done much to help that, because yes, the bad things keep coming. But they’re still individual events and have not yet crystallized into some unbreakable, unavoidable future. History is made up of thousands of millions of choices, accidents, unforeseen developments, total random bullshit, and much more, as much or more as it is made up by the macro-scale actions of oligarchs. Obviously, globalization and capitalism have made us all more connected to each other, and thus changes to the system can ripple more broadly, but they are not the only people who make history. If there’s one thing I can tell you as a historian, it’s this: the future is just history that hasn’t been made yet, and it is subject to the exact same unpredictable bullshit that has constituted history throughout, well, history. Nothing is unavoidable and we have never existed in a world where we can’t do anything at all. Also, authoritarian regimes (especially those imposed without the consent of the people -- willing subjection to authoritarianism is one thing, but the other, yeah) have a relatively short shelf life, historically speaking. That won’t help all of us who could be hurt right now (though we can STILL fight back and speak up and help our neighbors), but it’s the truth. Authoritarian rule (especially when it’s not balanced by economic security, which sure as hell isn’t happening right now) can last for a while, sure. But it is always its own worst enemy, and it will always be ended. How that ends is a choice we can make.

This isn’t the “get out on the streets and Start The Glorious Revolution!!!” nonsense that the armchair internet leftists, none of whom are actually starting a glorious revolution or doing anything except bitching on Twitter about how Biden and Trump are alike, are fond of. This is an active choice to realize that there are always things you can do, that there are things you can do right now, and one of them, most obviously, is voting. This mess was all completely goddamn avoidable if people had voted for Hillary Clinton in 2016. But well, they didn’t, and we get one last shot to fix this by democratic process. Trump is already openly setting up to contest the election results/try to invalidate them/throw out ballots. This is all old-school fascism. This is what is happening. He is counting on another razor-thin margin of votes that he can then contest in his hand-picked SCOTUS; he wants another Bush v. Gore very, very badly. The only way to blow away any legitimacy for anything like this is to vote in such overwhelming numbers that there’s no question of Biden’s victory, no need to wait for mail-in ballots (another reason the GOP has been trying so hard to destroy the post office) or anything else. At heart, Trump is a coward. He’s also an egomaniac. If it comes to stepping aside peacefully or being dragged out of the White House by the FBI for everyone to laugh at for the rest of time, hmm, I doubt he’s going to go for that. (And if he does, well, I will also savor the sight of him in handcuffs for all eternity.) However, that doesn’t mean the GOP machine won’t TRY, because Trump is not just Trump, but is his entire miserable cabal of enablers. I have written my fingers raw about how badly people need to vote. This is literally your last chance to do it.

I’ve seen a lot of the-sky-is-falling, we’re-doomed, they-have-the-votes-so-don’t-even-bother handwringing in the last few days. To some degree, yes. We all feel doomed. We have all been asked to find strength to deal with massive and unending waves of terrifying bullshit past anyone’s normal capacity, and we’re tired. We want it to end. But it’s SO CLOSE to ending, if we can all just get out and vote for Joe Biden in massive numbers on November 3 (or if your state has early voting, sooner; BANK YOUR VOTE). That’s such an easy thing to do. Nothing is set in stone. We can still fix things and make it so, you know, we’re not living in a fascist state ruled by Gilead. (And besides, all this Chicken Little rhetoric is super easy for the Russian troll farms to exploit. Don’t listen to it. Shut it down. Reject it.)

They want you to think you’re powerless. You’re not.

They want you to think this will never end. It will. We decide how.

They want you to think this is a foregone conclusion and you should just go back home and let it happen. You don’t have to.

They want you to think your vote doesn’t matter. It does.

They want you to think your rights are gone. They’re not.

They want you to think this future is inevitable.

IT’S NOT.

Hang in there.

Lots of hugs.

#politics for ts #anonymous #ask

171 notes · View notes

snarkwrites · 4 years ago

Text

ssw | embry call; you don’t have to be gentle. | mature.

NOTES:

So... This is the final part to the little mini story with Embry and Merisa... For now. Mayhaps I’ll revisit them from time to time, who knows. If you’re still with me after that downer of a cliffhanger ending yesterday, I’m happy -surprised, but oh so happy, and I truly hope you enjoy this because I enjoyed writing this.

I had to fight myself tooth and nail NOT to turn this into an alpha/omega + imprinting thing, btw. But I managed not to.

PROMPTS:

Prompts used for these six sexy words one shots are either taken from [here] or [here] at my choosing. I don’t take requests for characters / prompts for these but... If you just want to send me requests, I do take headcanon requests, fluff and filth alphabet letters. [ request rules / fandoms here ]

The prompts I used here are as follows: Claim me. Mark me. Own me + You don’t have to be gentle.

FANDOM/CHARACTER:

Twilight, Embry Call x Imprint!OFC, Merisa.

OTHER PARTS:

For those of you who want to see them... This whole series kinda turned into my own self indulgent thing, tbh? Anyway:

[ he looks down. she looks up. ] | [ let me take care of you ] | [ everything about her turns me on ] | [ when he says your name ] | [ when whispered words leave you breathless ]

WARNINGS:

{NSFW CONTENT. NO MINORS.} consensual but unprotected sex between two adults, oral sex - male giving, biting / marking, body fluids & that’s pretty much it.

Minors, this was not written for you. You shouldn’t be reading it. If you are and you stumble upon something upsetting or that you can’t handle after being clearly warned here... That’s on you, lovelies. Not me. Nobody made you keep reading.

TAGGING:

@kyleoreillysknee is the only person on my Twilight tag list. If you’d like to be added to it, ( I’m gonna be writing more for them most likely, I’ve been feeling it lately, idk mannn..) please let me know or add yourself to the doc linked below. If you’re not on my taglists, you won’t be tagged, fyi.

OTHER STUFF:

[ faq | feel free to send me stuff | sfw masterlist | nsfw masterlist no minors. | taglist doc ]

I haven’t seen Embry in a little over two weeks, since the night of the carnival. I still can’t get my head around what he showed me and what I now know but I do know one thing… Not seeing him has been really, really hard for me.

I’d almost given up on it, if I’m being totally honest. I had to fight the urge to go to him almost daily. I kept telling myself if he wanted to see me, he’d come to me. That I’d probably messed everything up with my reaction.

If I hadn’t before that, going overboard with the flirting.

My grandmother’s voice cut through my thoughts and I looked up from the television set. Pausing the episode of General Hospital I had recorded to see what she wanted or needed. Managing my best smile even though lately, that’s the last thing I’ve felt like doing lately.

“Don’t you get tired of laying around here, moping?” she asked as she stepped into the room. Shaking her head as she grabbed the remote and used it to turn off the little television. “Get out there. Go do something. I don’t care what it is, mermaid.”

I pouted at her, letting my mouth drop open as I pretended to be shocked and hurt by her suggestion. “Are you seriously telling me you don’t love me anymore?”

“You know that’s not true. That’s not what I said at all.” my grandmother sat down. I gave a soft laugh and spoke up. “I know, I was kidding. I just… I haven’t been in the mood lately.” I shrugged it off as if it were nothing.

“If you’re moping over that bum in Seattle, mermaid, he’s not worth a second more of your time and energy.”

“Oh. Trust me, I know. This has nothing to do with that. I’m just kind of… Resting.” my original thought pattern was maybe if I offered up the few injuries and aches I had left up for an excuse, she wouldn’t push for anything more than that.

Because it’s been a little over two weeks and I still can’t fully process what happened that night. Or how badly my lack of an actual reaction and how easily I gave in and let him bring me home might have made a mess of everything. I didn’t even try to push him into talking about everything. Explaining what it all meant.

I didn’t know how I’d even begin to explain anything to my grandmother without sounding like I was losing my goddamn mind if I’m being perfectly honest.

“In order to rest, one needs to actually do something first. What’s really going on, hm?” my grandmother wouldn’t be my grandmother if she didn’t push on regardless. I sighed and shrugged. “ I’m just dealing with everything that happened.”

“Mhm?” she was trying to get me to keep talking but I went quiet. Sighing. Telling her it was stupid and most likely, I was just fully comprehending my mother’s death. Which wasn’t a lie. My memory was almost fully back now. I could remember everything. Including the fact that the years leading up to her death, she and I had a very strained relationship… Because like my grandmother and I tried to do so many times with her over the years whenever she’d get all wrapped up in the actual worst kind of man or circumstance, she was trying to steer me away from Greg and rather than listen to her, knowing she had more experience in life than I did, I chose to isolate myself. I chose to tell her time and again that I was an adult and that Greg wasn’t all the men she’d gotten entangled with during my childhood. So the last few months I could’ve been mending fences and reconnecting with her were spent in tension filled occasional check in texts or calls instead.

Like mother, like daughter. That thought came bitterly and it hurt like hell to acknowledge. Because my mom went to her grave with the relationship between her and my grandmother totally unresolved. Because like she attempted with me about Greg, my grandmother tried and tried again with my mother and her choices. Only interfering one time. And that one time was because it was a question of my safety. And this cost my grandmother a relationship with my mother because nothing was the same after that summer.

I explained all of this to my grandmother and as I finished, she hugged me and sighed. “You can’t hold this in for the rest of your life, mermaid. But I know that is only a large part of whatever has you so down… and given that I haven’t seen a certain mechanic around at all in nearly three weeks, I’m going to assume that things didn’t go well on your date?”

“Oh, they went… Right up to the point where I proceeded to get impatient, want what I want and push the line…” - a half truth was better than nothing.. Because if I hadn’t laid it all on the line, he wouldn’t have felt so bad about keeping what he had to keep from me.

,, stop doing that. You can’t be blamed for everything. You were shocked. You’re still trying to figure out how to react to what you know… But if you wait too long..” the thought came and like usual, I tried to shove it down again.

“Meaning?”

“Meaning that I went overboard. I told him how I felt. I poured it on entirely too thick and I probably scared him off.” - taking the blame was infinitely easier than explaining the full truth to my grandmother. How did I even begin to tell her what I knew? And on top of that, the fact remained that I wasn’t supposed to tell. And if you’re not his imprint, you’re not even meant to know to begin with.” that thought surfaced.

And it hit me. When he showed me the wolf side that night, he’d been telling me so much more than that.

And my reaction?

While a natural one, probably wasn’t the best one to go with. I should’ve at least made him fucking talk to me. Explain everything. I should’ve pushed for him to tell me everything instead of agreeing to come home that night.

“Fuck.” I buried my face in my hands.

Why couldn’t I have realized that tidbit say, almost three weeks ago? Before it was probably too late to try and fix everything?

“Language, mermaid.”

“Oh, trust me, grandma. This is definitely a situation worth the F bomb.” I muttered, shaking my head as I laughed at my own stupidity.

“Maybe it can be fixed?”

“Oh, I doubt that.”

“You say you’ve realized how short life is thanks to your mother dying and nearly losing your own. All I’m hearing is that you haven’t learned anything, mermaid. How will you know if you don’t try?”

I took a deep breath. Mulling over what she said because honestly, she wasn’t wrong…

And then, before I could stop myself, I was standing. Bolting down the hall and into my old bedroom. The first thing I did was take an actual shower. Then I threw on that sundress. And before I could change my mind or talk myself out of it, I bolted out the door, right past where my grandmother sat, watching her soaps. She called out after me, “I won’t wait up, mermaid.”

I didn’t stop running until I stood on his front porch. Banging on the door.

“Open the door you stubborn ass man. Open the door and listen to me.”

Not a sound.

Not even a hint that he might be home.

I sighed and stared at the door for a few seconds.

Sitting down on the wooden bench to the left of it. Laughing at myself because naturally, I’d finally stop dragging my feet and do something to fix this if I could and he wouldn’t be home.

“I am such a fucking idiot, I swear to God.” I sighed, resting my head on the top of my knees.

I sat like that for a few minutes. Then I heard a motorcycle approaching in the distance. And the fight or flight kicked in all over again. But I fought back against it. Rooted to where I sat.

Determined.

Watching his motorcycle get closer to his house. My heart about to beat right out of my chest. But underneath the excitement.. Calm. Like I was doing the right thing, even if it did turn out to be too late.

The motorcycle came to a stop in his driveway. He hadn’t noticed me yet. I knew the second he did because his entire body tensed. His eyes darted around in every direction before finally settling on me. Intent. A little stunned, from what I could tell.

“So..” I called out, going quiet shortly after because I just didn’t know what to say. I had no idea where to even start.

“What are you doing here?” Embry asked the question quietly. Not in an angry or annoyed way, but more or less in a tone of defeat. Like he’d given up on me coming around ever again. “You saw what I am…” he went quiet. Up the stairs in the blink of an eye.

Towering over me. Keeping his distance but I could tell he wanted to be closer. I knew I wanted him closer. Every part of me was literally crying out for it. I needed him.

Wolf form and all, Embry Call is the man I love.

“And I don’t care, actually.” I admitted after a long and heavy pause. “I mean, I care.. But the fact that you happen to transform under the light of the moon doesn’t bother me. It’s.. Gonna take some getting used to.”

He blinked in shock as he processed what I’d just said. As soon as it sank in, he stepped closer. Filling the space between us. His hips pinning my lower body between his body and the wall my back was pressed firmly against. He raised a hand, resting it palm down against the wall as he stared down at me. Quiet.

“I know it’s probably too late and I should’ve.. I don’t know, I should’ve done literally anything but what I did the night you showed me the wolf but.. I’m losing my goddamn mind, okay? I.. I can’t think about anything else. I was really in love with you, okay? And I still am. And damn it, when you absolutely shut down and refused to let me…” my words were cut off by a thick digit pressing against my lips to silence me.

He swallowed hard, his eyes leaving mine and settling on my lips. “Wait.. you love me..” he muttered in a daze. Bringing his eyes back up to settle on mine. His body molding completely against mine as he leaned in closer.

“What part of that did you miss? Because I’ll happily say it. Over and over. Until it gets through your stubborn rock skull. This whole you turning into a wolf thing is.. Look. It’s a lot, okay? But it’s not too much. Not when I need you and I love you... I know what I want. And I’m not leaving until we’ve at least talked.”

“What do you want, huh?” Embry asked. Staring down at me expectantly. Waiting on an answer.

“You. I want you. Wolf and all.” I answered quietly, my gaze dropping. Settling on worn floorboards beneath my dirty and bare feet. Embry followed my gaze down and snickered quietly to himself.

“Woman, where the fuck are your shoes?” he glanced up at me, shaking his head. Grumbling about the fact that I wasn’t wearing any shoes. And I knew him well enough to know that this was Embry, stalling. Because he didn’t know what to say or do.

“Look. I came down here on a mission. I didn’t have time to stop and grab shoes, damn it.”

“Baby, why..” Embry chuckled, the beginnings of a grin forming on his face as he guided my face up so that I had no choice but to look at him. “ I know you came down here on a mission but seriously? There’s broken glass in the road.”

“I’m pretty tough. I mean.. I did live through a pretty wicked car accident.” I bit my lip, staring up at his mouth helplessly. Swallowing hard and getting wet when one glance into his eyes clearly revealed that yes, he’d caught me doing so.

“Yeah, don’t remind me about that, okay? I don’t even wanna..think about that night again.” he went quiet. Ghosting his free hand up and down my side before letting it rest against my hip. Using his grip to pull me against him. I melted into him with zero thought or hesitation. And then, I happened to put my full weight down on my left foot and promptly swear to myself quietly. “Son of a bitch. Ouch.” I raised my foot and the light glistened off of a practically microscopic shard of glass lodged in the skin.

Wordlessly, Embry scooped me up. Carrying me into his house. Sitting me down on his sofa. My eyes darted around the place, smiling softly to myself at all the pictures and the way it felt almost equally as cozy and like home as my grandmother’s little house did.

And before I could stop myself, I was imagining a future with him. Something I hadn’t dared ever do before. Something that suddenly occurred to me, I wanted.

Embry walked back into the living room with peroxide, a wash rag and tweezers and I pouted, shaking my head. “This can wait.” I protested. Tried to pull my foot away, but Embry got a firm grip on it, resting it between his thighs. Holding it still as he looked down at it, inspecting it closely until he found the tiny glass shard.

“Okay, look at me.” Embry guided my gaze up to meet his. Then he looked down. “Don’t stop looking at me, okay? And do not move your foot. Stop moving, Merisa or I’m never gonna get this out, baby.” Embry muttered in an even and firm tone. Stopping to look up at me with one of the most commanding looks I’d ever seen him give.

“It’s..” I hissed as the tweezers scraped over my skin, grimacing. Gritting my teeth because apparently, it was dug in there deep. “It’s fine. It can totally wait, c’mon.”

The way he’s called me baby twice now.

I don’t dare get my hopes up, do I?

The splinter of glass came free and I unclenched myself. It hadn’t hurt that bad at all.

“Was that so bad?” he asked. Staring at me.

I shook my head.

My eyes were lost in his all over again. And the tension was back. Heavy. Filled with things we needed to say.

“Embry.” I muttered after a long and heavy silence. Embry looked up at me, biting his lip. “Yeah?”

“When I told you that I’m yours and all you have to do is try, I meant that, okay? I don’t say things I don’t mean. And all of this.. I mean… Forget it. According to the legends, if you imprint, it won’t matter anyway…” I trailed off because I realized that I’d come all the way down here on a barely thought out whim. In the hope that maybe he’d been trying to tell me so much more than simply the fact that he turned into a wolf at will.

My anxiety was starting to kick in now and I had no idea what to do or say. I didn’t even begin to know where to start. There was so much I wanted to say. So much I needed to get out.

“It will if I imprinted on you.” Embry muttered after a few seconds. Staring down at my foot in his lap intently. Taking a few long and shaky breaths. Waiting.

Now it was my turn to be shocked.

Because that’s what I’d been hoping he was trying to tell me when I bolted all the way down here in a rush earlier. But I’d braced myself to hear everything but that.

“Wait..” I trailed off. My mouth opened and closed as I raised a hand, tousling my hair and pushing it out of my eyes.

,, You were right. He told you what he was that night. He showed you because you were his imprint.” my brain was practically taunting me.

“You sound like that’s a bad thing.” I was confused.

“It’s not. I just… I never thought it would happen. Kind of convinced myself that I’d rather know I love the person I was with without that side of me coming into play…” Embry trailed off.

“Oh.” I started to stand. Thinking that he meant something entirely different than what he was getting at. I was at the front door when he pressed against me from behind. His hand covered mine. Lowering it down from the doorknob.

“Don’t go. Just.. Let me get this out.” he muttered quietly against the shell of my ear as he turned me around to face him. Putting my back against the front door with a soft smack.

“I have been driving myself crazy. I’ve been trying to tell myself that it was just the imprint. But it’s not just that. I love you. I need you, okay? I just.. I don’t want you to think that genetics are the only reason I’m with you. I wanted to take time and like.. Prove that.” Embry fidgeted a little, raising a hand to drag it through his hair. Resting that hand against my face. Dragging his thumb over my skin as he softly pressed his forehead against mine.

When his mouth met mine this time it was deep and slow. Clumsy. Needy. His hands were wandering all over me. Finally stopping to rest across my ass. Pulling me up his body.

“I know it’s not just genetics, okay? I trust you.” I answered as we pulled apart to breathe. My arms wrapped around his neck, my fingers tangling up in his hair. Using my grip to pull his mouth back against mine all over again. “I love you too. And I want to see where this goes. We can figure this out as we go. I just.. I know what I want.” I gazed at him as the kiss broke a second time and we pulled apart, panting for our next breaths. Trying to pull ourselves together.

He grinned bright at my words and I smiled too. Snuggling myself against him.

“I do too.” he answered after a second or two of little pecks and soft kisses peppered on my face and Embry touching me anywhere he could get his hands. Stepping over to the sofa and sitting down. I wrapped my legs around his waist. He pulled me as close as he could get me. Making me barely catch a whimper as I rubbed right against the way his cock strained and pushed at the jeans he was wearing. When I did it a second time on my own free will, Embry groaned. Bucking himself up into me. Fingers digging into my ass. Guiding me over the bulge before either of us really stopped to think it over or calm ourselves down.

And honestly, I didn’t want to.

Every single time I rubbed against him, I could feel myself getting wetter and wetter. Whimpering and whining. Begging. I wound up pressed against the sofa, Embry’s body settling between my legs to keep them spread. He gave a quiet growl as he stared down at me and settled in, pressing into me completely. Pinning me beneath him. But barely pressing his full weight into me, almost as if he thought he’d break me or I was made of glass.

“ You don’t have to be gentle.” I muttered as my lips danced over his neck, leaving little marks behind. He sucked in a sharp breath, gazing at me as if wanting to be absolutely sure I was okay. That I wanted to go farther.

As if I intended to stop him.

“I don’t wanna hurt you.” Embry muttered, his words coming out in labored pants.

“You won’t.” I mumbled, letting out a gasp as rough,warm hands slipped up the bottom of my little yellow dress. His palm settling against my aching wet sex. Massaging me through soaked panties. My fingers dug into the couch and his shoulder as I rocked myself up into him.

His mouth crashed against mine hungrily and his hand started to move faster. Pressing against my dripping core. The little friction it gave was just enough to make me want more. Just as I started to rock against his hand a little faster, breath catching in my throat, he started to slow down. “Easy, baby. Not yet.” he coaxed, making me pout up at him. His thumb rolled over the outline of my lips and I closed them around it, sucking. Making him growl out “Fuck.” as he bucked himself right against me. His nose pressed against my neck as he breathed in deep. My fingers dug into the cushion on the sofa just a little more. His hand settled against my cunt again, cupping. Rubbing slow and careful. So slow that the ache settled between my thighs doubled. And the more I tried to rock myself faster against his moving hand, the more he pressed his hips down into mine to attempt to keep me still. When he stopped again just as I started to get just a little closer to orgasm, I whined. Begging.

His mouth buried in mine, swallowing up the sounds. He moved his hand, growling when it came away wet. “You smell so fucking sweet. I wonder...” he mumbled lazily against my lips as the kiss came to a gradual stop, “If you taste as sweet.” gazing down at me with a hungry look in lust shot dark brown eyes as he licked his lips. I could feel my cheeks heating up. My thighs were so slick they slipped off one another if they brushed together. Embry worked my dress up over my hips. Pulling me up to finish pulling it off. Leaving me in only the pair of red panties I was wearing. He pulled away to stare. A hungry look in his eyes as they moved over my body.

My fingers curled in the hem of a thin gray tank top he was wearing and I started to work it up, letting it hit the floor of the living room once I’d pulled it over his head. He slipped off the couch, standing in front of me. His hand lowered to the waistband of his jeans after he’d kicked off heavy soled boots, letting them settle on wooden floors with a soft thump. He unfastened and unzipped his jeans, letting them hit the floor around his ankles at which point he kicked them free.

My eyes widened as I could see the size of the bulge strained against a pair of dark gray boxer briefs. ,, is he even going to fit?” the thought came, accompanied by a fresh rush of slick as it coated my panties and slicked up the insides of my thighs even more. He was lowering himself back down again, hovering over me. His forehead resting against mine as he muttered quietly, “Don’t let me hurt you.”

“Baby..” I started to argue that I knew he wouldn’t, but he shook his head and repeated himself firmly. I nodded, agreeing to let him know. He settled himself on top of me gingerly, again being too careful. Not wanting to press into me too much. But I wanted friction. I wanted to feel his body engulfing mine. Hard muscles against my soft skin. I grabbed a hold of his hips, pulling him down on top of me even more. He rutted himself against me with a low hungry growl that hung in the air between us, only drowned out by the sounds of his mouth as it worked over my body. Starting at my throat. Working down. His hands roamed up my sides, pushing my breasts together and his mouth latched on. Licking,kissing and sucking. Making me whimper his name and rock myself up into him, the ache building. Throbbing.

By the time his mouth was down to my navel, he was reaching between us, the silent rip of fabric as my favorite red panties came away, tossed to the floor of his living room; torn. I raised my hand, tugging impatiently at the waistband of his boxers and rather than deny me, he obliged, raising to his knees. Slipping off the couch to let his boxers settle on the floor. His cock sprang free, standing at attention. I swallowed hard as my eyes settled on his thick,veiny member, a quiet gasp filling the air.

He positioned himself over me again. Gingerly. Desperate to feel skin against skin completely, I wrapped my legs around his waist and pulled him down on top of my completely. A moan escaped my throat as soon as I felt his cock teasing at my dripping entrance. His hands were all over me, ghosting my sides. Finally settling on my hips. Rocking me over his thick,veiny length as he stared down at me, dazed.

Leaning in to whisper against the shell of my ear, “Love the way your body fits against mine, baby.” as I nodded, let my lips brush the side of his neck, latching onto skin as I tried to leave a mark, “Me too.” I muttered, gazing up at him with a soft smile. Rough hands caressed my cheek, skimming down the side of my body and Embry’s mouth danced down my neck. Teeth scraping against soft skin before locking around it. Tugging until I felt a mark forming. I moaned out, rocking myself up into him. One of my hands drifting up to tangle in his hair and tug at it, trying to pull his mouth against mine one more time, despite knowing one kiss is obviously not ever going to be enough when it comes to him.

He started to let his mouth roam over my bare body, sending goosebumps raising all over me as I felt his warm,wet tongue drag slowly over my skin. Trailing a lazy circle around my navel as he moved himself down my body. Settling between my legs, putting a leg over each shoulder as he met my gaze again. Licking his lips hungrily. Bucking against the couch in anticipation and practically growling when he glanced down and saw my thighs glistening with slick. His tongue rolled up my inner thigh, sloppy. Warm and wet and determined to lick me clean. My hand tangled in the hair on top of his head and my other hand gripped the couch as the warmth of his breath tickled bare skin. His nose bumped against my pelvic mound and I bit my lip, my back arching as his tongue circled my clit, working the throbbing bundle of nerves. The way he had my legs over his shoulder angled my hips. When his tongue buried deep in my pussy, I moaned out. Begging for more.

“Baby, ah, oh fuck.. Oh. Mmm. Right there.” I moaned out, gripping his hair and the couch tighter. Digging my heels into his back, making him bury his tongue inside my dripping sex deeper. “That feels so good, fuck.” I moaned out, rocking my hips up for him.

“Good girl. Move your hips. Fuck. You’re dripping.” Embry growled, leaving a more harsh bite against the inside of my thigh, right next to my crotch. A bite so deep I could feel the stinging bruise even after he’d backed away, glancing up at me tenderly just to make sure I was okay only to find me moaning, my head falling back as I licked my lips.

My stomach coiled and my body tensed as I started to race right into an orgasm that I knew would leave me shaking. Embry started to slow down and my eyes popped open, locking on him and the way he was positioned between my thighs below. Pouting. Begging him not to slow down. Begging him to let me let go. He rose up a little, making his way back up my body after lowering my legs. Wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. Grabbing hold of my jaw as his mouth crashed against mine and he rocked himself against me, letting his cock drag right between my throbbing folds every single time he moved.

I gripped his jaw, making him lock eyes with me. His pupils were shot and the lust filled look in his eyes when they met mine had me whimpering his name. “C’mon… Please?” I begged breathlessly, another well timed rock against me with his cock grazing between my folds and the tip sinking in drew a breathy moan out of me that shattered the silence of the room. “Embry, please. Now.”

“Now, huh?” Embry responded in a husky whisper, his lips latching onto my neck. Sucking another mark into my skin. “Don’t let me hurt you. Because I know I’m going to get carried away, baby, I.. you just feel so damn good.” Embry gasped out as he started to bury himself inside me deep. Going still once I was impaled on his thick,veiny member. Pressing little soft kisses against my warm skin as he let me adjust to the way he stretched and overfilled me. After a few seconds, the feeling of being stretched almost too much subsided and I started to slowly rock my hips into him. Whimpering and moaning as he started to drive into me slow and deep. Nearly pulling out completely with each thrust just to bury himself deep inside all over again. When my stomach coiled all over again, I rocked my hips faster. Trying to chase the orgasm he’d been denying me. Embry’s hands gripped my hips, slowing them almost to a grinding halt and I whimpered, begging.

“Not yet, baby.” he muttered. Raising to his knees. Bringing my legs up to my chest. Both hands on my hips as he pumped me up and down on his cock until I was moaning his name over and over, clinging to him when he came to a complete stop. Frustrated as hell because I’d been so close and Embry stopped again. A tear of frustration trickled down my cheek and Embry caught it with his finger. Licking his lips as he muttered quietly, “It’s okay, baby. I’ve got you, okay? Let go for me. C’mon, baby..” he started to pump himself in and out harder, faster.. The smack of skin against skin shattering the quiet. “C’mon. Let go, baby.” as he pushed me back against the couch, pinning me all over again. His hips smacking against mine erratically, the sound echoing off the walls. “That’s it.” he growled as I clenched around him, dangerously close to my orgasm shattering through, “Fuck. you’re so tight. Wet...Fuck, baby.”

My orgasm ripped through me, leaving me a dripping,whimpering mess, clinging to him. Trying to catch my breath. My hips meeting his as best as I could as I let him fuck me through the high of it. My nails caught in his skin and raked down his back, pulling a moan out of him as he buried his mouth against mine, muttering quietly, “You feel so so good. So good, baby. Don’t..” he groaned as his thrusts became sloppier. Slower in a desperate attempt to keep himself from getting off, “Ah, oh god. Mmm.” his hands gripped my hips tight, slamming me up and down on his cock as he bottomed out, striking against my throbbing,sensitive spot, pulling a loud whimper out of me in the process. “Baby.” he panted, locking eyes with me, “I’m so close. So close, fuck.”

“Don’t stop. Embry, please.” my back arched as his thrusts got even sloppier. Faster. So hard they were almost bruising each time his hips slammed against mine mid-thrust. “You sure?” he muttered against the shell of my ear, glancing down at me.

“Embry, fuck. Ah, fuck. Baby, don’t stop. Feels so good baby. Mmm, yeah.” I moaned out, my back arching away from the bed, my chest dragging over his as I clung to him. Trying to rock my hips urgently to keep him moving. Blinded by lust. My nails digging into his shoulder and dragging down his back lightly. Pulling a growl out of him that was swallowed by the hungry crash of our mouths against each others as his hips sputtered and I felt his cock throbbing. Emptying. Filling me full.

After it was over, he planted soft kisses all over my face and neck and I pulled him down on top of me. He flipped us so that he was the one laying below, his arms locking around my body to hold me in place on top of him as I crashed my mouth against his all over again.

His eyes settled on the bites and nips he left behind and he grimaced, gingerly dragging his finger over the deepest one on the side of my neck. “I told you not to let me hurt you.”

“If it hurt, Embry, I would’ve told you. I’m not made of glass, baby.”

He eyed me, almost as if he were afraid I was just saying it. I gave a soft giggle and after wiggling around a little to get comfortable, I rubbed my nose against his, making him laugh. Stare up at me in awe only to burst into laughter when I settled on the couch next to him, purring in content, “I am.. Definitely going to get used to this. Mhm, yes I am.” through a sleepy yawn.

“Me too, babe.” Embry pulled me closer, letting my head rest against his chest. An arm wrapped around me tight after pressing his lips against my forehead...

21 notes · View notes

the-edge-of-great · 4 years ago

Text

this is for @jatpdaily‘s JATP Secret Santa 2020!! my giftee is @agentsofoakenshiield, and i present to you: a modern royalty AU in two parts (bc it kinda got long lol) hope you enjoy!! :)

summary:

Their countries could not have created a worse pair than Julie Molina, princess of Seneca, and Alexander Mercer, prince of Koray. Romantically, of course. Really, they're the best of friends, but there’s just some minor problems: Alex is gay, and Julie’s in love with someone else.

There's an event on Friday, Julie's last before she turns eighteen. Before everything changes—her bond with Alex, her relationship with Luke, her friend group altogether. She and Alex need to figure out a way to change their countries' agreement with their limited power.

With Luke and Reggie, obligated to attend the party by law—and moral support, of course—and Professional Party Crashers Flynn and Willie by their sides, they might just pull it off.

WEDNESDAY

JULIE

A greenhouse sits at the edge of the palace, shrouded in a mess of greenery and blooming wildflowers. It’s not far at all from the castle—actually, they can see the watchtowers from its own peak—but the barrier of trees looming over the forgotten building is a portal into another world, one of flourishing life beyond what they’re taught within the castle walls. The air is softer on the other side. Everything is quieter—she feels she can speak and actually be heard. When the gravel crunching beneath their shoes silences to soft thuds across the grass, a grin breaks free, and she runs.

Her shoes are off in seconds, kicked to the side as quick as she can. She misses the earth beneath her feet, soft blades of grass tickling between her toes. She’s been here enough to know where to step and what to hop over—besides, the glass shards shimmer in the sunlight anyway. Behind her is a yell, then a laugh, then they’re chasing after her, boots stomping in her haste, trying to reach the greenhouse first.

Reggie and Flynn rush past on either side, and once they reunite in front, Flynn leaps onto Reggie’s back. Reggie shouts, stumbling and regaining his balance all in two steps. Flynn leans forward, an arm stretched out, desperately trying to brush the edge of the door to claim victory.

Julie never sees who actually makes it because arms hook around her waist, hugging her close to someone who, quite literally, sweeps her off her feet. She leans into him, head resting on his shoulder as she laughs out loud. He spins her once before putting her down, chuckling in her ear, leaving a trail of kisses across her cheek. Once she’s on her feet, she hugs him. He’s a difficult person to wrap her arms around with the armor and all, but she makes it work—especially because in an hour, she’s going to have every layer stripped away until it’s just him: regular Luke. Her Luke.

The last of their group—the reason they’ve even reunited in the first place—are slow to arrive, valuing their time in every step, every lingering gaze and smile. The corners of Julie’s mouth curl for them: Willie is always his happiest when he’s with Alex. Even more so when they can come out here, away from the world and Alex’s impending reality inching closer each day. He and Julie have agreed: they won’t talk about it unless their friends bring it up first. And even then, maybe not.

Julie takes Luke’s hand in hers and tugs him inside. It’s kind of funny how willingly he follows her, he and Reggie immediately abandoning their jobs for some friends and a building. But they’re leaving Alex with Willie, and that’s possibly the safest place in the world.

The greenhouse doesn’t have a known story, just that it’s theirs and theirs alone. It’s overgrown with thorns they admire from afar and vines curling around the spiral staircase in the center of the room. There are steps missing in places and others threatening to fall away with one wrong move. Luke and Reggie, the literal guards of their group, always watch with bated breath and tense shoulders, swearing quietly when the staircase creaks and groans under their weight. Julie and Flynn think the danger makes it more exciting.

Flynn’s already on it, sitting halfway up with her legs dangling over the side. Reggie’s beneath her, kicking away broken glass as he tries to catch a frog leaping across the floor. Julie brushes dirt off of a counter before hopping on it, and as soon as she’s seated, Luke is there, pulling her into that kiss she’s been craving since they arrived.

“Are you guys going to the dance on Friday?” Flynn asks Reggie, curling a hand around the rail as she leans back to look down at him.

“Probably.” Reggie pauses near the back wall, rocking on his heels, eyeing the brown frog resting innocently on a pile of leaves. “If we’re invited.”

“Why wouldn’t we be invited?” Luke asks, climbing on the table next to Julie. “Seneca’s going.”

Julie chuckles. “Of course we’re going. Everyone loves Seneca.”

He smirks. “Yeah,” he says, already going in for another kiss, “who can blame them?”

“Are you guys talking about the event on Friday?” Alex asks, shutting the door behind Willie. “We’re going.”

Reggie cheers. Luke corrects him quickly, “We’re going to be working, Reg.” He throws a look at Alex. “No fun for us.”

“Don’t look at me like that. I’m not the one who signed up to be palace guards.”

“I don’t remember signing up either?” Reggie says. “I think we just hung out with you so much that they gave us swords eventually.” He lunges for the frog, arms outstretched, hands ready to grab, and then it leaps just out of reach. He catches himself on the wall, muttering a “Damn it” under his breath.

Alex laughs. Luke shakes his head. “That’s not how it happened,” he mumbles, sharing an amused look with Alex.

“Sounds kind of legit for you three,” Julie teases.

“I think it’d sound more believable if they took the swords themselves,” Alex argues.

Julei grins. “Maybe we should send that to the tabloids. Get them talking about something else.”

Alex breathes a laugh, giving her a look as he passes, transferring silent messages that only she could understand. Her smile falters only a little. They don’t talk about it.

“So, back to the dance,” Flynn says, kicking her feet.

“Is, um…” Reggie leans against the staircase, gaze jumping between his friends. “Is something going to happen at this one?”

Alex pauses. Julie frowns. “What do you mean?” she asks.

Flynn’s shoulders slump. “This is your last event before you turn eighteen, Jules.”

Oh right, Eighteen is a big deal in their world. Eighteen means permission granted to thrust her headfirst into the political world of the monarchy. Eighteen means the beginning of preparations for Twenty-One, when she’ll become queen. And, worst of all: Eighteen means marriage.

That Look passes between Alex and Julie again. Their smiles are gone; they have to talk about it.

“I don’t know of anything, but…” Alex wrings his hands. “Maybe.” “This is so unfair,” Flynn complains. “It’s the twenty-first century! Why are arranged marriages still a thing?”

“Because monarchies are still a thing, I guess,” Julie mutters.

Their countries could not have created a worse pair than Julie Molina, princess of Seneca, and Alexander Mercer, prince of Koray. Their relationship is strong—they really, truly care for each other a lot—but there’s just some minor problems: Alex is gay, and Julie’s in love with someone else. They’ve known about the arrangement since they were children of course, and their friends just a few years after, but their predicament has never felt as set in stone as this day and the next, the true Final Countdown.

“I don’t see why the countries have to be bound by marriage,” Luke says. “I mean, this—” He gestures around the group— “what we have right here, is stronger on its own than any arranged commitment between Seneca and Koray could be.”

“That’s what we’ve been trying to convince our parents of,” Julie says. “It’s more official than an agreement from when we were babies, though. It’s a whole peace treaty.”

Willie frowns. “Then make a new peace treaty.”

“We totally would…” Alex agrees. “If either of us had any actual power yet.”

“Can’t you just fake it until you’re crowned, and then change the rules?” Flynn asks.

Alex shakes his head. “We don’t know what effect breaking that kind of agreement would have on our countries.”

“Besides,” Julie adds softly, reaching for Luke’s hand, “faking it feels wrong. I don’t know if I could do it.”

“But hey, we still have a few days until anything happens,” Alex reminds. “We’ll figure something out. For now, can we just enjoy this time together?”

Although the air is stiffer now than before, their afternoon is still well spent in good spirits. They stay out there all day, only returning to the palace when the sun is setting over the horizon. Their stomachs are growling monsters by then. Somewhere along the way to the castle, they get separated. Purposely, and not very far apart—because if Alex’s parents catch him arriving without Luke and Reggie, there will surely be hell to pay—but enough for Luke to pull her around a corner and kiss her in the privacy of bushery and an apple tree.

“I wish you didn’t have to go already,” she whines, raking a hand through his hair.

“Pretty sure they’re not going to send us away without food.” He chuckles. “We’re the guests, remember? Well, Alex is.”

She smacks his chest. “You are too, dummy.”

“Not as important as the prince and princess.” Luke grins, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I’m kidding. Kind of. I’d much rather be a guard than a royal anyway. The only thing that sucks is we won’t be able to share a dance on Friday.”

Julie frowns. “Wait, but we’ve danced together at other parties?”

“Yeah, but from what I hear, this is going to be much bigger than usual. There are gonna be nobles from other countries, so security has to be tighter.”

“Don’t you have to stay with Alex, though?”

“We have to have eyes on him, but we aren’t allowed to mingle with the important people unless it’s an emergency.” Julie makes a noise of protest, which makes him laugh and dip his head, kissing her softly again. “Don’t worry, I’ll make damn sure we see each other before the night’s over. Or, maybe even after…”

She chuckles. “You’re really looking for a death wish, huh?”

“You know I’d give my life for you, Julie Molina.”

“That’s so cheesy.”

Luke grins. “Only the best for you, babe.”

Somewhere nearby, they hear a side door creak open. A voice rings through the air. It’s the royal seamstress, Flynn’s mother, “Flynn, where are the others? Lunch has been ready for fifteen minutes.”

“They’re on their way!” Flynn replies. “It’s a nice day; I think they just wanted to take the long way.”

Bless Flynn’s mother; she knows what’s really going on with Julie and Alex—and likely suspects where their group has scattered off to—and she never says a word. Although she’s already regarded highly in the kingdom for her talent in design, when Julie is queen, she’s going to make sure Flynn and her family receive the best treatment possible. Maybe master bedrooms on the top floor of the castle, with balcony views of the countryside.

Before they depart, Luke leaves her with a final passionate kiss. It’s the kind that pins her to the tree truck, hand pressed into her back, fingers in each other’s hair, and when they pull away, they’re breathless, his forehead resting against hers, bodies as close as possible, savoring the touch because it’s going to be a long time before this can happen again.

“Hey,” Luke whispers, pulling away enough to find her eyes. “No matter what happens, I love you, okay?” He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

“We’re going to figure it out,” Julie promises. “Alex and I. We’re going to figure something out.”

Luke smiles gently, halfheartedly, like he doesn’t really believe her. That’s fair; she doesn’t know if she believes it, either.

“We’d better get back.”

When he turns to leave, she catches his arm, pulling him back. With a smile—a real one that stretches her cheeks and brightens her eyes—she tells him, “I love you, too.”

Grinning, Luke pulls her along. He curls an arm around her waist, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

When they round the corner of the shrubbery and reunite with their friends in front of the side door, they’re apart. All of them, even Willie and Alex, who are emerging from the other side of the path. They share looks with each other then fall into formation: Alex and Julie lead into the castle, Luke and Reggie follow five steps behind, and Willie and Flynn carry the end. The last two split away from the group as soon as they cross the threshold. The others don’t even look back.

Like diving headfirst into ice water, they’re back in the real world. The greenhouse is miles away.

----

THURSDAY

LUKE

The thick, century old book slamming against a chipped wooden dining table echoes in the empty armory. A cloud of dust explodes from beneath and hits Luke and Reggie square in the face. Reggie sneezes. Luke sputters, waving a hand to clear it away in vain. They should be used to it by now—this isn’t the first time they’ve been given the Book Punishment.

“You’d think General Wilson would be more creative by now,” Reggie says, flipping open the book.

“So, you’d rather be doing four hours of PT instead?” Luke asks dryly. He yawns into his hand. They overslept—again. It doesn’t happen regularly, but enough that they know this Book of Laws well enough to pass a test (which they’ll have to do that evening, and if they fail, they will get four hours of physical training).

“Hell no. I’m just saying, where’s the flavor, huh? He’s been a war general for, like, ever. Why doesn’t he make us…” Reggie waves his hand aimlessly. “Survive in the forest for two days, like that one time before we officially became guards. Remember? We just chilled by the lake and ate those berries.” He sighs. “I miss that sometimes.” “Well, maybe we can go on a camping trip after we figure out what’s gonna happen with Alex and Julie.”

Reggie perks up at the idea; he’s blind to the eye roll Luke adds at the end of his statement.

“Wonder if there’s a chapter in here about changing the rules when you’re not actually in charge,” Luke mutters, chin in his hand as he flips through the pages.

“We could always overthrow the monarchy.”

“Overthrowing the monarchy means overthrowing Alex.”

“No way. He’d be on our side.”

Luke pauses on a page describing something along the lines of rules altered by a third party. “Reggie.”

“I mean, he’d have to take out his parents somehow,” Reggie continues thoughtfully. “Which probably wouldn’t be an issue. It’s Lainey we’d have to worry about.”

“Reggie.” Luke smacks his arm. “Look!” He points to the text, looking over with an eager grin. “Think we just cracked the monarchy, dude.”

While Luke gathers the book in his arms and heads for the door, Reggie calls, “You know Wilson’s gonna kill us if he finds out we skipped out.”

“A military general versus the prince of a whole country.” Luke laughs over his shoulder. “You do the math.”

Reggie shifts his weight from one foot to another, chewing on his lip. Then, he breaks into a jog. “Wait up,” he calls. “You know I’m bad at math!”

~**~**~**~

The issue with Alex’s guards being more like brothers to him—at least according to the king and queen—is that they often act like guests in the castle instead of trained personnel.

Neither knock before barging into the conference room. Luke has tunnel vision, clutching the book tight to his side, with newfound hope in his heart. Alex needs to see what they found; nothing else matters in that moment.

Nothing except… a heated conversation between Alex and his parents that they absolutely just interrupted. Quickly, Luke hides the book behind his back. He and Reggie come to an abrupt halt just inside the doorway, heels pressed together, bodies stiff with nerves. There are rules to be followed when it comes to approaching royals—they know them well, but when it’s just them and Alex, it’s easy to forget the divide.

“You two better have a damn good reason for interrupting us,” the king growls, looking over sharply.

Luke avoids his cold glare—he doesn’t like people beneath him making eye contact. “We—” Luke begins and ends immediately, realizing he doesn’t know what to say without sounding suspicious. Or like he’s planning treason.

“Does it matter?” Alex demands, moving between them. “The conversation was pretty much over anyways, wasn’t it?”

The king takes a dangerous step forward; only Alex shuffles back. Luke glances at Reggie. His fingers twitch at his sides. This is the one thing that truly irks them both about their job: they’ve sworn to protect the prince from any threats, but the king himself? They’re powerless.

“You are still a prince,” the king reminds in a low, careful tone. “You’re not in any position to begin calling shots.”

Alex flinches under the heavy clap on his shoulder as his father exits the room, with the queen following close behind. Nobody moves until the door clicks shut, and they’re engulfed in silence.

“Alex?” Luke calls.

Hesitantly, Alex turns to them. There’s a red tint to his face and a glossy layer over his eyes that goes unmentioned. He runs a hand through his hair, short breaths racking his body.

“I was just, um…” Alex squeezes his eyes shut. “We were talking about the marriage agreement again.”

Luke nods, handing the book over to Reggie. “Hey, why don’t you take a seat?” Fingers curling under Alex’s arm, Luke guides him to an upholstered bench by the window.

“I’m fine,” Alex declares quietly as he sits down.

“Okay.” Luke nods Reggie over. “Then, listen to this: I think we found a loophole around the law. According to this, the Next In Line himself can create or alter a law as long as a member of the royal family and the High Priest bears witness.”

“But it’s a peace treaty, not a law. Seneca’s leader has to have a hand in it as well.”

“Maybe there’s a way for Julie to get around it, too,” Reggie suggests hopefully. “We can figure it out next time we’re together, but dude! We have a chance here!”

Alex pulls at his sleeves. “I don’t know, guys. You know my parents; they won’t be convinced that easily.”

“Doesn’t matter if they’re convinced.” Luke chuckles. “Even they can’t argue with the High Priest.”

“You think the High Priest would go for it?”

Reggie shrugs. “Worth a shot, man.”

Sighing deeply, Alex agrees halfheartedly, “I guess so.”

“Hey, what’s up with you?” Luke asks, nudging his arm. “You okay?”

Their relationship is odd because a guard would never be able to be so personal and informal with a royal. But it’s Luke and Alex; they’ve always been an exception, ever since they were kids when Alex invited him, a commoner he met playing near the front gates, to a sleepover in the cinema room. Ever since, they’ve been inseparable.

“I’m just a little freaked about everything, that’s all. Mom and Dad aren’t helping, either. They’ve been planning this wedding since I was five years old, which is weird.” He sniffs, looking to the side and rubbing a hand across his face. “Before I had a chance to even try liking guys or girls, they’d already made the decision for me.” Luke and Reggie share a concerned look. Alex shakes his head, laughing humorlessly as he rises to his feet. “Gladys wouldn’t approve. You know what she says, ‘There’s no room for emotions in this castle.’”

“Gladys isn’t here,” Reggie reminds softly, but firm.

“Yeah,” Luke agrees. “It’s just us.” They don’t dislike Gladys; for a noble, she’s kinder than most. For an advisor, she’s damn good at her job. One of her best attributes—according to the king, the queen, and General Wilson—is her ability to ‘shut off’ her emotions when needed. Luke doesn’t get it; how can shutting off your emotions really solve anything?

The corner of Alex’s mouth twitches into a half smile that doesn’t last more than five seconds. “Yeah, thanks guys. Um, I’ll think about what you said, but I don’t think I can talk to Julie about it before tomorrow night.”

A door swings open, silent as a mouse, but the soft creaks of the floorboards are enough to alert their ears. General Wilson steps inside; Luke and Reggie exchange nervous glances.

“Good afternoon, Your Majesty,” General Wilson greets. His eyes drift over Alex’s shoulder for just a moment, but a single look freezes Luke to his core.

Inwardly, he groans. They’re totally spending the rest of the day flirting with death on the training grounds.

“General Wilson,” Alex responds, lifting his chin. “Can I help you?”

“Apologies, I was just looking for those two—” He swallows thickly, like whatever he’s trying to say is difficult— “star pupils. They’re missing important training.”

Alex looks over his shoulder at them; Luke and Reggie give him a toothless, sheepish smile in return. To Wilson, Alex says, “Sorry, I need them right now.”

Luke chews on his lip to keep from smirking. He loves when Alex uses his authority over the general.

“But—“ Wilson takes a breath, hooking his hands behind his back. “With all due respect, Your Majesty, tomorrow night is an important event that these two, among the rest of the guard, need to prepare for.”

“Why?” Alex frowns. “It’s just another social gathering.”

“There will be leaders from countries we’ve not interacted with face to face in years.”

“Any in particular we should be suspicious of?”

“Well no, but—“

“Then I don’t see an urgency in needing them right now.” General Wilson opens and closes his mouth. “Shut the door on your way out,” Alex adds, waving him off.

Giving Luke and Reggie a final, heated glare, he turns and marches out of the room.

Alex waits for the door to shut to sigh loudly. “Thank God,” he says, turning to his friends. “That man is terrifying.”

“He thinks the complete opposite of you,” Luke admits, grinning. “Which makes it even funnier.” Next to him, Reggie gives Alex a high five.

Their laughter is a weight lifted. Luke just hopes it’s still around after tomorrow night.

----

Part Two

#jatp secret santa #julie and the phantoms #jatp #royalty au #modern royalty au #julie molina #luke patterson #alex mercer #reggie peters #nick jatp #flynn jatp #carrie wilson #willie jatp #juke #willex #angst and anxiety #what a pair #jatpdailysecretsanta2020

66 notes · View notes

aelaer · 4 years ago

Note

First: welcome home & I hope you get the sleep you need to get back into your routines! Second: it's Feb. 2, a significant day to our beloved Stephen Strange. I know you're exhausted right now, and the timing is poor--but perhaps when you're up to, you could write a little one-shot about his feelings all these years later (is it 2022 or 2023?) on the anniversary of the accident that changed his life forever. Can't think of anyone better suited to write it! xx

This was sent a year ago but last month I planned to have it out for Feb 2nd, hah.

For canon, he comes back in 2023 in what I think was likely after Feb 2nd, so realistically he can address the anniversary again in 2024. It'd feel like only 3 years for him while, in actuality, it'd been 8. But when it comes to his experienced time versus actual passing time, Stephen's pretty messed up without the Decimation already (I'm not sure how I feel about the name of the "Blip" yet.)

The prompter also requested first person after I asked for more details, and I haven't ever written Stephen in first person so I thought I'd give it a go. I know first person isn't everyone's cup of tea, but if you're willing to give it a shot, call me very obliged.

Warning for canon compliance :P

——————

Staring Back In Time Rating: G (well, other than language)

An entry from the memoirs of Doctor Stephen Strange, Earth's Sorcerer Supreme, during his time as the Master of the New York Sanctum, several months after the Battle of Earth against Thanos:

February 2, 2024

Calendars don't mean as much as they used to. Once upon a time my life was ruled by the calendar. Consultation here, surgery there, society dinner over the weekend. Dates were important and generally set without change once marked down.

It doesn't work that way as a sorcerer. I keep a schedule, of course, one that marks down classes with apprentices and adepts and meetings with other Masters, never mind all the business outside of Kamar-Taj. But I learned early on that these set times shifted occasionally to accommodate the emergencies that the order often had to quash down, and it became obvious that as a Master, my schedule was more of a hopeful guideline than anything set in stone. Flexibility was a necessity.

Ever since my return to the living, keeping anything resembling a set schedule has been more of a laughable dream. Earth being the center of two universe-changing, Infinity Stone-powered events in a matter of hours did serious damage to the fabric woven about reality across the planet, and the Masters of the Mystic Arts are going to be dealing with the multidimensional repercussions for years to come. Nothing is predictable in my day-to-day anymore.

My relationship with time was fucked the moment I confronted Dormammu, so I can't say it's a large surprise that calendars have become mostly irrelevant.

If someone had told me that I, Doctor Stephen Strange, a man of order and precision, would learn to live with such unpredictability, I would have laughed in their face. But I'm not the man I once was (and thank God for that; that man was a dick). However, it's also because of this change that I didn't realize the day until it was nearly done.

I was reviewing my schedule for tomorrow, which I had set up on Google Calendar (Google had, naturally, survived the Decimation just fine, but like most other non-vital services, had many of their upcoming products delayed for years. But their email and calendar services continue to work great). Tomorrow's a Saturday, which means nothing in my world. My work continues on. The threats on our reality care little for weekends or holidays.

Still, it was only during this review, shortly before I planned to retire for the night, that I realized that today is February 2nd.

I won't ever forget the day, of course. It was both three years ago and eight years ago—or perhaps many lifetimes ago would be a more accurate description, though I lost track of time in both of my major journeys with the Time Stone. One day I'll write about them. Not now, but one day. Both memories are still too fresh.

The memory of the day of the accident, though? It feels both like yesterday and centuries ago. Some parts of the day are engraved in my memory like a film. I remember the last surgery down to the individual conversations. Christine's "thank you". Nick's watch. The cling of the bullet as I dropped it onto the tray.

I can remember my last conversation with Billy, too, in the car. Every damned word. But the drive itself is fuzzy, even in my head with my memory. I remember it began to rain during the drive, not beforehand, and I know the road was narrow and two-laned. I know I avoided a direct route to avoid traffic, driving first into Jersey before heading north and crossing the river again. But the rest is forgotten to time, or perhaps to trauma.

I was told that Billy was the first to call 9-1-1 as he heard the tearing of metal and shattering of glass before the connection was lost. The driver I hit—I learned much later that she escaped with only minor injuries—called a couple minutes later. But it was out in the mountains, dark, and raining. It took them hours to find me and extract me from the car.

Funny. Never thought I'd ever write about one of the worst days of my life like this. But I was told early on that personal journals were encouraged for all who stay in Kamar-Taj. Something about its therapeutic benefits was mentioned at some point. I only picked up the practice once I learned that each gifted journal was inaccessible to others until the time of their death, and after I mastered the art of enchanting a pen to write the words I spoke. Unfortunately this journal appeared to others after the Decimation, but Wong has reassured me that no one read it and it has since disappeared again from public view.

Still, the point is that, one day, someone just might read this—account of a man who was part of an effort to save the universe. And it is difficult for a reader to judge my actions if they don't know how I was the one who ruined my life. My driving was reckless and stupid. I was running a little late, but it wouldn't have mattered in the long run had I been fifteen, twenty minutes, thirty minutes late. Not really.

Then again, I suppose it would have. I certainly wouldn't be here right now.

One could say that the accident and everything that has followed is some sort of penance for my hubris as a surgeon. I enjoy my newer abilities—quite a bit—but the responsibility that has come with them has not come without its own hardships and sacrifices. Perhaps the worst of the sacrifices were the ones I was unable to prevent others from performing, all for the sake of the universe.

Those sacrifices were made willingly, but I cannot help but feel responsible for them, regardless.

During my first winter again returned to the living, when the days grew colder and my hands ached in the bad weather, and the only thoughts to accompany the pain were bitter, another thought was born. I was tempted, for the first time in a long time, to give it all up, restore my fine motor skills with channeled magic, and go back to the world I once knew, for a life much, much easier than this one is now. Even with all the troubles that had cropped up as people tried to reorganize a world that doubled in size overnight, it was miles away from the difficulties we were facing in Kamar-Taj.

Their sacrifices—the fates I pushed so many people towards—quelled the idea quickly. It did little to ease the physical pain or sting of guilt, but it lifted the temptation. And ever since that day, I have considered the situation and I don't think I will ever be tempted by the idea of giving up my duties for an easier, pain-free life again.

And I suppose that counts for something.

——————

(Hey look, my interest in geography's leaked again.)

I've always wondered where Stephen actually crashed mostly because New York City is *flat* and those mountains were *very much not flat*. I figured out the bridge that he crossed to get out of the city (there are like, 21 bridges that lead out of Manhattan) was the George Washington Bridge, and it leads to New Jersey—but that's not necessarily useful because it can quickly turn back into New York state if you turn north. We also know he crashed down into a body of water, which *might* be the Hudson, but also might not, but that the body of water is to his left, which narrows it down a bit. But again, not much. And the site of his crash is so dark in the videos and screenshots that I can barely tell what's on it. It looks like a bridge and some industrial building, so the Hudson's a good guess, but otherwise? Well, basically I turned on the topography part of Google maps and started searching.

The 202 on the east side of the river just north of Peekskill (again in New York) matches the movie road's windiness, height, and closeness to the river, and even has a bridge that could be just to the north of the crash site. Unfortunately the railing's off and there's no industrial building thingy by the bridge. It also makes the route out of the city via George Washington Bridge make no sense. Like the Stark Industries area in LA in the films, it's probably a completely fictional landscape.

But as I wasn't able to find a better locale that was still close enough to NYC to direct an emergency helicopter to, my headcanon for this scene is that he left via George Washington bridge to avoid some major traffic or something, crossed the river via the 287 a bit further up north to get back to the east side of the river, then went up the 9 to the 202. Unless someone who lives in the area can find the actual road he was driving (if it's real), this is what I'm gonna go with. (And if someone DOES please let me knowwwww). Funny enough, I don't see him getting led to *his* hospital totally unrealistic, because he'd need a very talented orthopedic surgeon with a specialty in hands to come in, and generally speaking a patient can be helicoptered to another hospital where such a surgeon is available. If Stephen is working at the Metro-General, it's likely they can afford a large cast of talented surgeons. So I don't think Nick was necessarily the lead surgeon in his case, just one of many necessary surgeons.

#sobeautifullyobsessed #stephen strange #doctor strange fanfiction #doctor strange #mcu fanfiction #my writing #my fanfiction #gen fic #ask #answered #prompt fill

35 notes · View notes

katewaliss · 4 years ago

Text

! write with me or fight with me!

you either die by my sword or the most painful head canons imaginable! *merida vc* choose yer fate

just kidding!

hey there gaymers, i am crissy! i am 22, live in pst, go by she/her pronouns and honestly would very much like a distraction from life -- preferably in the form of 1x1 and rp in general. i am currently doing online school plus trying/failing at adulting, being a crazy pink haired college student living on microwave dimsum with my crazy fluffy demon cat, but that still leaves me with a lot of time and what better way to spend that time then crying and dying, am i right, boys?

so without further ado ( adieu? idk gusundheit ) here are a list of discomboblulated plot things that have been floating around in my head that i might be fun to do ( plot fragments, ideas, ocs, fcs i like, settings, genres etc )! i’d prefer a message if u liked any of these in the inbox or dm form, my tumblr ims are open and my discord user is mr. worldwide#2918 ( pitbull supremacy ) but if ur shy i will message u and be annoying!

lastly: i prefer hcing in the dms to replies, however i will do replies/ask memes slowly, i don’t really like making blogs and prefer google docs/discord and i ask ( gently and respectfully ) that minors do not interact.

thank u and happy hunger games! xx

COLLEGE TOTALLY SPIES -- i was really obsessed with this picture right here and i thought that the picture would be a good premise for a little four person group based on totally spies. i was thinking that these three college students/young adults some friends maybe not some enemies or just on completely different ends of the social agenda get bonded together when they accidentally end up roped in a top secret spy organization that is fronted by a record store. the details and flesh of the plot i think would be cute to figure out all together maybe in a google doc or a big discord so we can make the rp to perfect world building specifications. right now i have two spots open!

my friend lexi over at comradc has taken the cool goth asian girl and is using lyrica okano

i am playing the freckly backwards hat lesbian in the red polo named aj mccallis and i think im using diana silvers ( not sure might switch to tati rodriguez )

we also have the cute blond girl w the dyed hair who is giving me kind of like sydney sweeney energies, blonde girl maybe like lalisa manoban/jinsoul,

and we have the rad black girl with the bandids who i would only accept black fcs for for such as diamond white, ryan destiny, salem mitchell,

i’d prefer if this stayed kind of sapphic and female and enby friendly. we can def make make npcs and characters but i’d prefer if the characters looked like they do in the picture ( minus the white girls who can be racebent as long as there are vibes ) mostly bc i want the poc people to stay the correct poc! but yeah! if u like this message me specifically!!!!! seperately and hit me w a role ud like maybe an fc an idea anything < 3 im working on a google doc and discord sever

- i really want to play a himbo skater boy evan mock like its my dream i know nothing abt him other than he probably goes by something like mouth or juice or tris or dex or dante but !!!! he has buzzed hair he buzzes designs into, does stick n pokes, hates cops, will kiss anyone, likes to mosh at house shows, smokes a lot and sounds like crush from finding nemo, probably ur parents worst nightmare if im honest rodrick heffley energy -- adopt him for any plot

- i also really am obsessed with simay barlas who is my mascot rn -- i want to play her in some sort of dark academia setting with like gossip girl blair waldorf energies lu from elite and have her be really mean and cold and pretentious and play the cello and probably have secrets and be uptight idk the name mallory is resonating hard w me ( we could even do a gossip girl the secret history type group if people liked that )

-ok i also really really want to play streak aka silas montgomery who is like very like sidekick best friend to the golden boy main character, does a kick ass goat impression, class clown, relentlessly hits on like the most difficult person in school, does crazy things for laughs and attention, just wants to make people happy, only wears hawaiian shirts, finger guns, is going nowhere in life, his dad is probably the dean at whatever prestigious school also he is very very depressed and drinks often! love u! a I Feel Like Im The Worst So I Always Act Like Im The Best electra heart baby PINTEREST

also yes his hair is pink reg verse he did it on a dare but hp verse he did a potion wrong and it never came out

SOMEONE DO A LADY HANNIBAL WILL GRAHAM RP KILLING EVE RP W ME! i made this will graham adjacent gal for a genderbent hannigram rp her name is bisexual disaster enida johnson and sometimes goes by needy or will bc her middle name is willamena! has basically all the will things wears flannels is a mess but has a bunch of cats instead of dogs in her woods log cabin and im using crystal reed bc it fits perfect in my head idk if u like her hmu hit me w a lady hannibal PINTEREST

other stuff

ok i really want to do a princess and knight plot but with knight zendaya and princess anya taylor joy ???? ALKHALKSHALK LITERALLY HELLO literally modern or like dnd style i do not care but know i love dnd! we could make it like them goin on some skyrim quests like hi

speaking of dnd and skyrim if anyone wants to do like anything based in dnd stuff or skyrim stuff i am DOWN

jennifers body plot!!!! maybe set in college!!!!! sounds spicy i will do a f/f or m/m version leggo leggo

UNTIL DAWN UNTIL DAWN!!!! i wanted to do a little like 6 person or mumu until dawn thing where everyone either makes new characters or characters based on the existing six! i made a girl adjacent josh character named riley PINTEREST who i love very much ( fc might change im thinking maybe medallion rahimi ) pls hmu if ur down

i looooooove breakfast at tiffanys!!!! like i really love breakfast at tiffanys we love a call girl broody author ship and i want to play a mishti rahman holly golightly type character so so bad

pygmalion plot!!! basically like an author and the main character of their book comes to life and the book character is probably from a different period of time or realm so doesnt know how to do modern 2020 stuff like microwaves and the tv! and then maybe they get sucked into the characters book world thats written by the author and have to navigate that! enchanted! w the kdrama! energy!

GOSSIP GIRL PLOT ENERGIES

any sort of the secret history murder society until dawn ahs horror type setting i am on a kick rn

i still really want a deaf sailor and siren plot bc that is so spicy or even like anything involving sirens like maybe one thats like vegetarian and doesnt like to eat humans so it ariel rescues one and keeps it safe!! or like only men are susceptible to the sirens song but aha! i am a woman! Romance!

anything in the realm of percy jackson i love mythology lets go i kind of want a echo narcisuss plot and i want it to hurt me so bad

i will do harry potter stuff but only if its completely removed from the current canon like years in the future no existing families also maybe beauxbatons salem and drumstrang plots bc thats what matters

iiiiiiiii really like anime so i will do anything kakegurui, soul eater, ohshc

i kind of like grew up on the hunger games so i will gladly take any hunger games plots like young effie and haymitch is spicy or like a career tribute and one of the weaker poorer distracts enemies to lovers leggo

i have a kind of oc that had their parents die in a factory gas leak that was the governments fault and it turned them into a vigilante assasin that is slowly picking off bootlicker government people one by one pretending to be one of them until bam! gets attached to the rich asshole son or daughter of the head hauncho or one of the higher ups ... drama

rich little celebrity fussy wussy being held captive by the mafia and the tired stoic mafia guard but they fall in love

i kind of like any plot that involves one person that is really loud or angry or dramatic or whiny and the other one is kind of sweet and gentle or does not talk much idk make brain happy

speaking of!

no nonsense law student studying abroad in a european country and an artist there falls in love w them and is all romantic and gush and is like ur my muse!!! and they are like Go awAy and they explore the city together and themelseves its nice!

i want to be an avan jogia super villain idk why i need to but i do

not to be a disney adult bc i am not but anastasia princesses dont kiss kitchen boys

rival cheer captians? best friends brother? pop princess celebrity singer and like antiestablishment really angry rockstar in a publicity relationship? broody detective and sunshiney diner person that works at the diner they eat at everyday?

idk i will think of more hmu these can all be made f/f or m/m if they arent

#1x1 #1x1 rp #1x1 roleplay #plots #this is so long and messy and weird idk it repeats a lot hit me up im emabrrassed already

28 notes · View notes