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parentingtheoryandpractice · 2 months

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Reply to Kelsey re: unschooling

Kelsey Piper wrote this critique of unschooling a little while ago, and I've been meaning to respond to it. It's been a while (travel, family visits, etc.), but I finally found some focused time to do some writing. This also ended up being much longer than I anticipated, so consider yourself warned on that front.

Here's a link to Kelsey's post in full, though I will quote some parts more specifically inline as well: https://www.facebook.com/share/p/cVsxtWVqEEjnFKke/

Points of Agreement

Before getting into the parts where afaict Kesley and I don’t see eye to eye, I wanted to acknowledge a few points of major agreement, including where it might not be obvious.

A bunch of the online unschooling community is a trash fire

My experience, like Kelsey’s, has been that there’s a lot of terrible unschooling advice online. IME the epistemology is kind of terrible, including sometimes in a kind of culty way, and I’ve also come across a bunch of people who are being mean, invalidating, and seemingly completely unempathetic and incurious when people write vulnerably about their concerns. I’ve found some groups to be substantially better than others, and I’ll say a little more about that below, but I think this is a point on which we basically agree. I find the state of most (not all ) of the unschooling groups I’ve found to be quite unfortunate.

That Sudbury example you cited strikes me as bad behavior

Kelsey’s post includes this reference to a passage from a Sudbury educator:

An essay about Sudbury Valley School that I read while thinking about how to educate our kids had the following anecdote in it: "A few years ago a teenage girl who had been a student at SVS since she was five told me quite angrily that she had wasted two years and learned nothing. I did not agree with her assessment of herself, but I did not feel like arguing with her, so I just said, "If you learned how bad it is to waste time, why then you could not have learned a better lesson so early in life, a lesson that will be of value for the rest of your days." That reply calmed her, and I believe it is a good illustration of the value of allowing young people to make mistakes and learn from them, rather than directing their lives in an effort to avoid mistakes."

I think I may object to this passage even more than Kelsey does!

I find what the educator said to be patronizing, invalidating, and missing the point. I think educators and people in positions of authority should especially try their best to engage substantively when their students tell them they are doing a bad job, and to try to mollify someone by offering an insincere framing in order to calm them down is pretty bad behavior.

And IMO of course it matters if a kid’s self-assessment is that they haven’t been using their time well.

Which isn’t to say I think it’s especially damning if someone said something like that once when they were impatient or frustrated, but if anyone is writing down that story in an unapologetic way, that person and I have a major disagreement.

It’s mostly good to let parents do their weird stuff

In her post, Kelsey says:

I don't feel like I can confidently opine on whether other people are doing a good job and I don't have any desire to do so. I think that the healthiest culture around parenting is one where we basically chill the fuck out about other parents making decisions we disagree with, and are grateful to live in a culture and company where we similarly have the freedom to make decisions that they disagree with. I feel defensive of parents doing weird things, because I'm doing weird things.

And once again, I’d say we agree! If you want to read more about the details of how I agree, here they are: https://parentingtheoryandpractice.tumblr.com/post/160828234181/respecting-other-peoples-parenting

Pedagogy is a real thing and I’ve also seen unschoolers act like it isn’t

I’m not sure that “pedagogy” is quite the word I’m looking for here, but it’s the closest I have. I think there there are a bunch of skills that I respect involved in:

explaining things well

providing good puzzles and exercises

modeling the specifics of what is going on in the learners head and being responsive to it

breaking things down into pieces that the learner will be able to interface with

sequencing material based on which foundational bits build on each other

sometimes back-chaining from material that you, having more context, strongly expect that the learner will want to know later

When there is something that I am trying to convey to someone, whether it’s my child or someone else, I try to pay attention to pedagogy, and I think it can be very helpful!

I have personally done a ton of tutoring over my lifetime, including professionally (not unusual for the unschoolers I know personally—a ton of them have also been professional educators), and when I have done it, a bunch of my focus has usually been on pedagogy.

Additionally IME, overall, the online unschooling communities, including the ones I like most, tend to be uninterested in leveraging pedagogy. I am sympathetic to some of the reasons I can guess for why this might be the case, but I agree with what I think Kelsey is saying about how the online unschooling communities often aren’t passing some sort of basic checksum about telegraphing awareness of pedagogy, presumably sometimes bc they in fact lack it.

Kids often don’t know what’s out there

I also wholeheartedly agree that kids don’t start out knowing what sort of cool things in the world, and that they will be much better served if adults who care about them inform them about, and sometimes try to sell them on, cool stuff that the kids don’t already know about.

I’m pretty sure all the unschoolers whose views on unschooling I respect agree with me on this point, and I think it’s too bad when unschooling advocates say otherwise.

Educational coercion is costly, and almost never worth doing

This is a point of agreement that Kelsey acknowledged as such, but it seems good to me to state it here again. We both agree that forcing kids to study material that they don’t want to learn is a bad idea, for reasons that include but are not limited to, that it often fails on its own merits; the kids often don’t even learn the material.

Some things where my experience has been different

I also wanted to note some points where my experience has diverged from Kelsey’s that don’t feel especially core to me, before attempting to get to the heart of where I think the two of us disagree.

Basically, my own experience of the unschooling community I have found has been vastly more positive than what Kelsey described, and my anecdata from grown unschoolers, while not universally positive, also seems to have a much more positive skew.

In the first case, my guess is that the main thing that accounts for it is that I’ve met a ton of unschoolers in person, and that has been vastly more positive for me than mailing lists and facebook groups were. And also, I think the main mailing list I used to read was a better environment than what Kelsey has mostly come across, though that that list hasn’t been especially active in years.

I posted some comments on Kelsey’s original post saying this, but, for example, I have quite often heard unschoolers recommend that families not unschool, all considered! I can think of a bunch of concrete instances, and I have done it myself in a substantive way at least once that I can recall.

(This is particularly non-central, but I actually disagree that a family couldn’t successfully unschool a 4 and 6 with both parents working full time. I’m not sure I personally could do it, but I knew one family where both parents worked full time, but they did shift work and arranged it so that one of them was basically always with their kids. Both parents had lots of energy, and their family seemed to me to be thriving as much as the families I knew with stay at home parents.)

And, to be clear, when I talk about positive anecdotes, I’m explicitly trying to exclude anyone where I only heard about their story because they were presented, on a podcast, in a book, or a conference, etc. as a success story, since I understand that of course I wouldn’t be hearing from them if it hadn’t gone well in their case, and that I wouldn’t be hearing about the parts that didn’t go well.

But even so, I don’t think unschooling is any guarantee of a happy, fulfilling childhood that the kids feel good about upon reflection. I don’t think I ever thought that, but I do remember when I was just starting out learning about unschooling having some hopes for certain outcomes that I now consider to have been unrealistically high. In particular, I think unschooling is far from a cure-all for the challenges faced by highly neurodivergent kids, or kids with mental illness, even though I think in most of the cases I’ve seen it has served them better than a public school would. And, perhaps notably, it was talking to the unschooling friends I met in person that gave me a more realistic picture.

It was pretty early in my unschooling journey that I remember having a substantive discussion with a good unschooling friend of mine about a kid in our extended unschooling community who had lamented that he didn’t know certain academic material when was around 18 or so, and how we wanted to relate to that sort of thing.

Ultimately, I don’t want to get into too many details about which exact experiences and anecdotes I have from different unschooling communities, for all the usual reasons I usually avoid posting details on the internet about people who aren’t me, but I did want to note that what I have seen seems to be somewhat different from what Kelsey has seen.

What I think unschooling is, with an emphasis on where I think Kelsey and I disagree

One thing I’m hoping to avoid, is the discussion of what unschooling ought to mean. I think that could be an interesting fight to pick, and maybe one day I’ll want to, but my hope is to instead try to clarify what I am trying to do as an unschooler, with particular emphasis on where, based on Kelsey’s critique, I think we don’t see eye to eye.

So here are some things that seem core to me about what I mean when I say unschooling. (With the caveat that I would expect many of my friends who unschool to agree with me a bunch, but I don’t expect else anyone I know who unschools to have quite the same take on it as I do.)

Actively challenging cultural defaults about what kids ought to be learning

I think almost everyone I know agrees that it’s in some sense ideal when people get to spend time learning things that they are actively curious about in a moment-to-moment way. Like how babies sometimes gleefully play with crinkly paper, perhaps because they want to know what’s up with it. Or when sometimes adults are like “my new hobby is that I will now learn as much as I can about abstract algebra”, perhaps because they recently realized that their mind seems to have an abstract algebra shaped hole in it. Or the way a lot of people I know go on “wiki benders”, where they follow one wikipedia link after another, opening a bunch of tabs, collecting novel information and hooking it up to other information.

And I think almost everyone I know agrees that sometimes, it’s valuable for people to do a more back chain-y thing where they form plans about learning things for instrumental reasons. Such as when,even though they don’t care in any intrinsic sense how tax law works, they want to comply with relevant laws. Or they’re not especially driven to understand how toilets (or plumbers?) work today, but they do want their toilet fixed.

And I think most people also agree that it’s also important for people to sometimes notice that their friends and loved ones might benefit a lot from learning about something. I personally tend to lean towards preferring explicit consent for discussions about what other people think I ought to learn, but I have often found them quite valuable.

All of that is roughly how I think it should work for kids too.

When a kid is curious about something, or a kid wants to learn something in order to accomplish one of their goals, I trust that motivation. And when a parent has a felt sense that it would be good for a kid to learn about something, either because it seems like the kid would be intrinsically into it, or a kid could better accomplish their goals if they knew it, I trust that motivation too.

(With the major caveat that IMO it’s usually good to treat that latter thing lightly, since there are almost always more varied ways that I have modeled for my kids to accomplish their goals.)

And a lot of what unschooling means to me is that in addition to trusting all those reasons for kids to be learning things, I also have an active interest in deconstructing, for myself, the orientation where I defer to something like a “cultural default” about what my kids ought to be learning. If there are arguments that make sense to me from first principles, great! But afaict lots of people either choose to adopt, or have and don’t especially question, a pretty deferential attitude towards standard curricula, what “most people” are doing, or what “most people” think “most people” should be doing, etc.

And I buy that that attitude of deference serves a lot of families better than any of the realistic alternatives. I could defend it if I wanted to!

But it’s not what I want for my family. I think it works better for my family to reject the cultural default.

I’m not sure, based on what Kelsey wrote, how Kelsey relates to what I am calling the cultural default. I would guess, given what I know about her, that she’s given it a lot of real thought. And given Kelsey’s choices to start a school, she is obviously up for doing weird stuff! My guess is that I’m more of a radical on this point though, and it may explain some of why we seem to see things differently.

Kelsey says:

It would have been a mistake, in my opinion, to make her learn geometry when it seemed pointless to her. But it would equally have been a mistake to go 'well, geometry isn't suited to her'. The thing to do was to come up with interesting material which would provide her with different points of entry into geometry until she saw the reason to study it and was excited to do so.

When Kelsey uses geometry as an example of something where she kept working to find an angle that clicked with her kid, on my end there’s a bit of a missing mood—a missing mood like “why geometry though?”

It’s not that I can’t think of all sorts of good reasons that Kelsey could want her kid to learn geometry, or that I don’t believe that she has them, or that I think Kelsey needs to justify this focus to anyone at all (or perhaps anyone outside her family).

I don’t personally find it especially compelling that geometry is a subject that kids often learn in school these days, or that I think math is great (which I do), or that geometry is a deep topic that connects up to a lot of other cool topics. But of course there are other topics that I do really want my kids to learn, so I can try to relate by substituting geometry for one of those.

(As it happens, I do feel somewhat differently about algebra. Kyle Aretae, a long-time uschooling friend of mine made the case to me that deeply “getting” algebra tends to be pretty cruxy for whether kids can be on the track where they can pretty straightforwardly get a technical math-y type job. And I was persuaded both of his model of the educational tracks, and of the practical upside of unlocking that set of jobs for my kids if it seems doable. I do have a felt sense that it’s important.)

But the thing that I think points most to a disagreement is that I can’t quite imagine writing up a similar story without including some sort of explicit nod to why this topic in particular is one where I want to keep searching for an angle where it clicks. Because at this point the water that I seem to be swimming in is one where it’s pretty unnatural to take it as a background assumption that kids should especially be learning almost any particular subject.

I’m not sure how close I’ve gotten to identifying any real specific disagreement with Kelsey, but I’m pretty sure there is a substantive crux somewhere near what I’m trying to gesture at?

Hayekian anti-coercion

Kelsey says:

The Sudbury, etc content I read mostly encouraged us to treat her refusal here as deep wisdom - that she in some sense correctly knew that geometry wasn't valuable to her. I read lots of anecdotes about a child refusing to learn something and then it turned out years later that that had been completely correct of them. Our philosophy was more that kids are almost certainly correct when they say that a lesson is not valuable to them - and it's not right to force them to do it - but that this doesn't mean they are perceiving something deep about the subject matter, it often just means you haven't found the right entry point and should keep trying.

I think I agree with the denotation of the words Kelsey says here, and yet I’m also pretty sure we have fairly straightforwardly different priors about how much deep wisdom tends to be involved in kids’ lack of interest in learning stuff.

Though even thinking of it in terms of deep wisdom or not isn’t really how the question looks in my native ontology.

Certainly it is also my experience that sometimes people’s lack of interest in certain topics can be addressed easily and quickly with a different framing or entry point. The example Kelsey gives about the Pythagorean theorem unlocking geometry for her kid makes sense to me. I remember one of my kids having trouble with the voiced “th” sound, and words that started with that sound not helping, but when we talked about the word “brother”, it clicked. I could probably think of dozens of similar examples without too much trouble. And I think I would have been meaningfully mistaken if I thought something like “well, I guess this kid just isn’t ready to learn about that sound”, and given up. I can also recall many instances of teaching young kids a slightly different body mechanic, or iterating some fine motor skill with them, and I have had many experiences of these things clicking very quickly!

However, after trying a bunch of different approaches, I have often gotten a clear sense that “okay, my kid wants me to stop trying to get this to click with them”. And of course, I can then also go meta about that, and try to figure out why, and see if there’s a crux to be addressed. And as they get older, more introspective, and more willing to talk to me about it, they can often verbally tell me what’s going on.

One such example is that I tried to teach one of my kids about letters and their sounds when they were a toddler. I got a lot of traction at first, but then I ran into what I now think of as a tell-tale dynamic, where it seemed like I kept running up against a particular type of resistance–not at first when I tried a new tact, but in a delayed way, seemingly to me as though it was kicking in when a high-order process noticed what was going on.

My current best guess is that given where my kid was at developmentally, it seemed like a higher priority for them to classify objects as the same regardless of their orientation, and my project about identifying letters conflicted with that. And that in and of itself doesn’t mean I couldn’t have kept trying stuff–maybe if I only worked with them on letters that didn’t have the rotation issue and built up from there, something cool could have happened. But the sense I got from my kid was more like “I’m trying my best to hold onto my developmental priorities here, and it’s kind of exhausting and bad for our relationship to have you poking around in this vicinity. Drop this for now; do not pass go; do not collect $200.”

An example from my own life that still has emotional charge for me, some 25 or so years later, was when Nancy Bidlack, who ran the chamber music summer camp I attended from ages 13-18, was my cello teacher for the summer. I had had a few cello teachers by then, including one of warmest and kindest people I’ve ever spent a lot of time with. But I think, until that point, all of my teachers had some sort of goal like “get me to be a better cellist”, that in retrospect I think I subtly wasn’t bought into. (Some context here is that playing the cello was an optional part of my life. My mother made it very clear that if I wanted to stop I could.) Nancy seemed to intuitively and deeply get that not only did I not want to be a professional cellist (lots of the kids at this summer camp did go on to become professional musicians), but that I was mostly there because I liked the vibe and wanted to hang out with my friends playing chamber music. Because of that, I think, she taught me in a very different way, that was more about satisficing learning pieces I was assigned. And not only did it work better in a narrow sense–my recollection is that did learn my pieces better than usual that summer–the difference in how it felt on my end was dramatic, and very positive, and I’m confident it helped me inhabit myself more fully.

These days I have a pretty high prior that my kids may want me to drop my educational agendas. If I let myself make up a number, I think maybe half the time I have had an agenda about one of my kids learning something in particular, I come up against something like this on their end, including when they were quite young and not able to confirm it verbally.

Which isn’t to say that I automatically give up just because my kid seems to want me to, since some things are quite important to me. And it doesn’t mean that even when I do drop my agenda for a while I might not revisit it later.

(In some cases, revisiting a thing later is more like my default plan. My 2yo is great at taking off his clothes, but pretty unskilled at putting his clothes on. I want him to be able to put his clothes on, which is why I have tried to show him how, but it doesn’t seem urgent. And I have a high prior that it will be much easier to show him in a year, and even easier in two years. I feel similarly about a bunch of academic subjects.)

And for me, part of respecting and supporting my kids’ developing personhood is trusting them when it seems like they are telling me, either in words or not, that if I keep trying to present the material in different ways, they will experience it as quite costly.

Which, on my end, ties into a philosophical position I hold pretty deeply about central planning importantly not working, especially at large scales. But if I speak from my gut, I want to say: “Not even within my family, and not even within my own mind.”

As I see it, the calculation problem (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Economic_calculation_problem) is one angle on why it can work very well to be deferential to people (and even processes) about how they want to allocate their resources, very much including cognitive and attentional ones.

And then I see something a bit more abstract following from that, where it can be good and adaptive for people to build ego structures that often tend to reject a bunch of agendas other people might have about them, to maintain the sort of process-level separateness that makes them function well.

And so, not only do I have a higher prior that there’s deep wisdom in my kids’ choices about what to learn, but for me part and parcel of respecting their autonomy involves deferring to them quite a bit about when to keep trying to present material to them basically regardless of my prior about how deep their reasons are once they start to object. And empirically, they seem to object pretty often.

My kids seem to be unusually picky in this way, and that they probably get a lot of it from me, since I am also unusually picky this way.

On the other hand, a family is pretty small scale. (Cold take, but) I think central planning tends to work noticeably better for city states and small countries than it does for large countries. And families are obviously much, much smaller than even the smallest countries.

And, afaict, given people’s skills, context, and values, there’s a lot of variation in how it’s most functional to divide up their interpersonal and intrapersonal epistemology. (I don’t currently have great explicit models about which factors tend to have big effects here.)

Concretely I’ve encountered unschooling (and non-unschooling) families for whom it usually seemed to go smoothly when the parents had more of an agenda about the kids’ learning, and other families who seemed about as concerned about the potential downsides from that as I am. And I feel confident this is because our family dynamics around this sort of thing are meaningfully different. (Analyzing what seem to be the relevant differences interests me, but I consider it beyond the scope of this post, and I’m not sure I have a good handle on it anyway.)

So I’m not trying to say that I think everyone ought to be scrupulous about mostly holding educational agendas for their kids lightly, but I do think in some families there’s a lot of upside from relating to it that way.

Treating teaching as potentially costly

It’s usually quite costly for me whenever I’m in a “teaching” type context. Friends explaining stuff to me doesn’t really count, but when someone is occupying a role where they’re supposed to impart knowledge to me, it always seems to apply.

Kelsey says:

substituting the adult's judgment for the child's judgment and teaching the child to please the adult - which is a critique unschoolers often make of conventional education that seems to me to have some merit

And my guess from reading this is that Kelsey and I have a disagreement about how costly it usually is for certain kids to be taught things, even when the teaching is pretty good.

One cost associated with teaching people things in general, as I see it, is that afaict there’s a pretty real low-level tradeoff between being the sort of mind that can absorb the thousands of years worth of accumulated human knowledge, and the sort of mind that can figure out stuff more like from first principles.

I do care about that cost somewhat, and for whatever reason it felt wrong to me to leave it out, but ultimately that’s not the one I’m worried about it.

The cost I worry about ~isn’t present (or at least I expect it to be much lower) when I’m reading a book, or watching a video of a lecture, and isn’t there for me when I’m playing a video game, no matter how heavy-handedly educational. But, as I see it, it has basically always there when a person was teaching me something in realtime. And it’s particularly there when the person teaching the thing is an adult, and an authority figure, and it was higher when I was a kid than it is for me now.

Because, as I see it, the teacher role is super relationally fraught, and almost no one seems into doing it in a way that supports the type of personhood I’m aiming for, which I tried to explain above. My own experience has been that the vast majority, though of course not all, of people who are in official teaching type roles have a bunch of their intentionality, often unconsciously, pointed at something like actively trying to interfere with my ability to:

think for myself

maintain my own sense of taste about the subject matter

trust myself about when to keep thinking about something

perceive the material accurately when the teacher is wrong

etc. I’m trying to gesture at a cluster here, and my list isn’t meant to be exclusive or exhaustive

One example that has stuck with me was when I was in a zoom Q&A near the end of a virtual conference I was attending about a longtime hobby of mine. They were explaining a particular principle (that people in this domain often elide), and I asked under what circumstances it was especially important to pay attention to it (since many of their colleagues did often ignore it, and seemed to get good results anyway). One of them ~said “always”, and the other one backed him up right after. The tone of both of their responses struck me as contemptuous. I still think about this, because I think it left some barb in my mind that I have only mostly removed. There was a reason I asked the question! I also think it had a real answer, and I think they were using my genuine curiosity and intent to deeply understand the material as a springboard for emphasize something they wanted to emphasize for their own reasons. Which is, in many ways, fine. It was their event, and I think my expectations for the Q&A were naive. I have since developed some explicit heuristics for when the sorts of questions I like to ask subject-matter experts are likely to welcome. It’s an example of how teaching can affect me though.

According to my worldview, and because of the shape of the personhood I’m especially trying to support in the world, I believe that teaching at its best involves actively modeling and trying to mitigate the sort of vulnerability people, especially young people, are taking on in the student role. Especially when the students feel obligated to be polite to the teacher, if not to also treat them as an authority figure.

I will freely admit that I seem very sensitive to teaching dynamics. I have almost always complained about them after the fact when I am trying to learn from subject matter experts who aren’t already my friends. Lots of other people that I’ve talked to don’t seem to share my issues, due to, afaict, a combination of aiming for something different than I am aiming for, being robust in ways that I’m not, and having more adaptive strategies for interfacing.

Certainly it struck me when Kelsey said:

As an adult, I learn well when a person who is an enthusiastic expert about the topic walks me through the key ideas - so it makes sense to me that this is also true of children.

I rarely learn from being forced to attend mandatory training, so it makes sense to me that this doesn't work that well for children either.

Adults frequently do (and like!) classes, bootcamps, trainings, and other structured instructional settings, so it doesn't make sense to me to assert that children's love of learning is inherently destroyed by those things.

Adults don't pick up skills by magic intuition, and so it's not surprising that kids mostly don't either.

I do tend to like it when an enthusiastic expert walks me through something I’m interested in, when I ask them to, and when they treat me respectfully. I don’t like mandatory trainings! (Though fwiw I think I have often retained quite a bit of material from mandatory trainings—people seem to differ quite a bit on this point—but that’s not a crux for me about whether I like them.)

And I almost never like classes and bootcamps. I hate almost all trainings and structured instructional settings I have tried. Even conference talks with questions are often fraught for me.

And, as far as I can tell, my kids are a lot like me in this way.

I’m also pretty skeptical of the claim that adults frequently do and like those sorts of structured educational things? Some do, for sure. Afaict, compared to the population average, my friend group (and probably their kids, too) contains disproportionately many people who enjoy structured educational settings and also disproportionately many people who are deeply allergic to them.

And also my guess is that the number of minutes of their adult life that the median American voluntarily devotes to learning things in structured instructional settings, other than to obtain a credential they want, is pretty low.

Ultimately, I don’t think it’s important for me to know what most people are like, but as it stands I do have a pretty high prior that children I come into contact with will rightly and meaningfully object to a whole bunch of structured instructional settings, particularly academically focused ones, since I think the frame stuff that bugs me (and some others like me) out that I tried to point to above is more part of the standard cultural context for academic material than it is for stuff that’s more hobby-coded.

And to the point about magic intuition—I totally agree that it’s very possible to model learning in detail and pretty mechanistically. And at the same time, my sense is that I more like disagree than agree with the statement. I think most of the time adults learn things because they decide to learn it, and figure out something that works for them. And most of the time when I learn things it’s usually pretty opaque to the people around me unless they ask me about it or I decide to tell them about it.

Magic intuition, no, but I do think the vast majority of the learning that people of all ages do happens for reasons and in ways that approximately no one else is modeling. I taught myself to touch type on a Dvorak keyboard one summer when I was a kid in a very straightforward way–I read something on the internet that I found persuasive about how the layout was better, I found a typing program, installed it, and practiced a lot. But I imagine that the whole thing seemed pretty out-of-nowhere from my parents’ perspective, if they even knew I was doing it.

I also think my kids can learn substantially more and better with me involved and as a resource, a lot of the time, and I try to help them with their learning, so I’m not quite sure why I felt compelled to write the above paragraph disagreeing with the magic intuition point, but I did.

And to be clear, I do not claim that teaching is never good and worth it. I have taught people things, and often it has seemed good and worthwhile to me to have done it. Despite my relevant allergies, I continue to look for teachers who work for me, and I periodically attend events that I know I’ll have objections to, because they seem like the best way for me to learn the material. I have recommended that my kids take classes about things that interest them, sometimes they have done it, and sometimes it has been a great experience for them. And when one of my kids wants to opt into a teaching experience, I try my best to support it. Furthermore, if you read this and think “all that stuff you’re saying about teaching seems pretty neurotic and it doesn’t seem to apply to me or my family”, I think that’s great! I am very much not trying to sell anyone on relating to teaching the way I do.

Since Kelsey and I support kids opting out of their classes, I also think we are way more on the same page about a pretty fundamental point about how children’s education ought to look than most people are. And also, I think my concerns about teaching may explain some chunk of the differences I see in our stances.

Conclusion

I don’t think most people should unschool. I am not an unschooling evangelist. I might even say, as I have sometimes heard about whether people ought to become professional musicians, that people should only do it when they think they couldn’t live with themselves if they didn’t. And I think even most parents who deeply want to unschool will have a pretty rough time of it if they didn’t manage to find enough supportive community.

But I personally really like unschooling, and I can’t quite imagine doing anything else for my family. So, since there’s been a bunch of discourse about unschooling recently, from Kelsey and a bunch of stuff I’ve seen on my twitter timeline too, I wanted to at least weigh in on the conversation myself, and try to articulate some of what it means to me and what I find valuable about it.

This ended up being way longer than I expected or hoped it would be, so thanks for reading this far if you did!

Many thanks to everyone who helped me clarify my ideas by talking about them and gave me feedback on drafts, including Steph and James Payor, Pete Michaud, Kyle Aretae, Cristy Henry, and Anna Salamon.

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h0rnyv01d · 11 months

Note

0: Height

1: Virgin?

2: Shoe size

3: Do you smoke?

4: Do you drink?

5: Do you take drugs?

6: Age you get mistaken for

7: Have tattoos?

8: Want any tattoos?

9: Got any piercings?

10: Want any piercings?

11: Best friend?

12: Relationship status

13: Biggest turn ons

14: Biggest turn offs

15: Favorite movie

16: I’ll love you if

17: Someone you miss

18: Most traumatic experience

19: A fact about your personality

20: What I hate most about myself

21: What I love most about myself

22: What I want to be when I get older

23: My relationship with my sibling(s)

24: My relationship with my parent(s)

25: My idea of a perfect date

26: My biggest pet peeves

27: A description of the girl/boy I like

28: A description of the person I dislike the most

29: A reason I’ve lied to a friend

30: What I hate the most about work/school

31: What your last text message says

32: What words upset me the most

33: What words make me feel the best about myself

34: What I find attractive in women

35: What I find attractive in men

36: Where I would like to live

37: One of my insecurities

38: My childhood career choice

39: My favorite ice cream flavor

40: Who wish I could be

41: Where I want to be right now

42: The last thing I ate

43: Sexiest person that comes to my mind immediately

44: A random fact about anything

oop this is long so

1: yeah lol

2: 6

3: nope, gotta keep them lungs healthy to stay slutty

4: nopity nope, i’m so scared of saying something i’ll regret while drunk

5: again, nope 😭😭

6: recently people have been offering me kids menus at restaurants? it’s odd, idk how old they think i am but

7: no :(

8: i wanna get a star pattern on my collarbone at some point, and maybe a jellyfish on my upper arm

9: yep! regular lobe, and a cartilage piercing on my right ear

10: i wanna get a bunch of piercings, but just on my ears, i’m getting a conch piercing on my left soon

11: probs my friend sophia but you wouldn’t know her obv lol

12: it’s complicated- we’re both into each other, and weve dated in the past, but neither of us is willing to b like “let’s get back together”

13: men just casually hinting at something they’re into. it just makes my brain go WILD with possibilities

14: being mean outside of sex

15: cinderella (1950)

16: i’ll love you if you’re sweet (my standards are so low i’m sorry)

17: my friends i don’t talk to anymore

18: i’ve had two seizures, and those were probably the worst moments of my life

19: i’m clingy but i won’t admit it

20: my chin and my need for attention

21: i got that hourglass figure <3

22: i wanna be an author!!

23: i have one little sister, i love her, but she’s nuts sometimes

24: no father, and my mom is more like a big sister than a mother to me

25: any date is perfect as long as i’m with someone i love. but if i had to pick, watching fireworks together

26: people pronouncing my city name wrong, idk why

27: he’s a lil short, he’s got curly blonde hair, and he’s so sweet, he wants to be lawyer someday

28: the person i dislike most has greasy brown hair, is 5’6, and looks like he doesn’t shower

29: protecting feelings, and also i’ve lied if i thought it’d help repair friendships

30: waking up early!! i hate getting up at 6

31: “will you wake up if i send you more pictures of cats i like, or should i wait until tomorrow?”

32: ‘we need to talk’

33: i’ve gotten told i look like cinderella twice today :)) that made me feel so amazing

34: i’m more attracted to men than women, but i’ve noticed that whenever i’m into women, they tend to be really strong

35: brunettes for some reason

36: tbh i’m perfectly fine in florida

37: my laugh

38: i used to want to be a marine biologist, and while that field is still incredibly interesting to me, i think i’d rather write

39: vanilla, i’m a basic bitch <3

40: adelaide kane, shes dropdead gorgeous i’d love to be her

41: greece, because apparently there’s a ton of cats!!

42: i had a banana a few hours ago

43: chris hemsworth. on his poster for thor: ragnarok, he literally fits leonardo da vinci’s idea of perfection, so i will unapologetically be saying this

44: the blue whale is the largest animal to have ever lived

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parkersroses · 4 years

Text

sunflowers. | harry styles.

pairing: harry styles x fem!reader (dad!harry, husband!harry)

summary: harry is very much in love with his little family.

word count: 2724 words

warning(s): a sprinkle of sexual mentions and a whole lot of fluff

disclaimer: gif is not mine.

author’s note: hey there. been a while. i missed writing here and the reason i haven’t been doing that is because i was focused on finishing school. of course now, i still am busy with school, having to start my degree. but i miss writing so i thought i’d make this little piece here. it’s my first harry styles fic! quite exciting and nerve-wrecking for me. but as always, leave a like and a comment if you enjoyed this, also constructive comments do help me to improve my writing and i do want to be better at it. and reblog (!) it really helps writers out in creating content for you so pls do so if you like it. all the love x

She pushes her cart down the aisle as she browses through the shelves of delicious snacks. She already has picked out a bunch of biscuits and juice boxes when her phone rings, making her jump a bit. She takes out her phone and smiles as the screen showcases the contact name ‘lovie’ with a picture of her husband. She accepts the call as she continues to stroll down the aisle.

“Hi, lovie!” she answers happily. “Hello, darling. Hope everything’s alright there,” Harry answers back. She giggles as she stops by the fruits and vegetables section. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that since you’re the one that’s looking after the house?” She questions about Harry’s intention of calling her. He chuckles through the phone. “Pfft, don’t be silly, love. I got everything under control here,” He says. She imagines how he is probably pouting a bit on the other side of the phone as she playfully rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, hun. Now, what do you need?” She asks, figuring that Harry has some last minute additions to the grocery. Harry hums and thinks as Y/N picks out some fresh salads. “Could maybe buy more bread for us?” He asks, which confuses Y/N as she thought she has already bought bread for them.

“Harry, didn’t I already buy those, like, two those days ago?” She questions as she starts picking out some fruits. She picks out two packets of strawberries and grapes each and one honeydew melon. She feels as though Harry is hesitating to answer back through the phone. “Yeah, but.. I got hungry so I finished most of them,” He says as though he is embarrassed by admitting this to his wife. Y/N only giggles at this information.

“You and your bread. Any kind that you fancy this time?” She asks as she makes her way to the wet area of the supermarket. “Just the usual ones. Oh, and the whole wheat bread if there’s any,” He requests. Y/N hears the sound of cutleries clanking in the background, though she brushes it off, thinking it is just Harry cleaning the kitchen. “Alright. I’ll see you guys at home, yeah? I’m nearly done here,”

“Of course, darling. Bubs and I will be waiting,” he says, and Y/N smiles at the thought of her little family at home. The couple say their goodbyes and hang up. Y/N makes a note to herself to get some bread after picking out some salmon before checking herself out of the supermarket.

After over a year of marriage, the both of them decided to start a family of their own. It excited her to think about Harry with their own child, knowing very well how good he is with children in general. They were both overjoyed by the news that they will be expecting a baby girl, more so of Harry than herself. He was ecstatic to be a father throughout the pregnancy journey. Even on the occasional dates they would go on, he would always make sure they picked some of the most private areas, paparazzi and fans-free. It was an important time for them and they wanted to keep things on the low most times.

Now, their baby girl Rosie is six months old and is just the purest ball of sunshine and happiness. Harry and Y/N swore that their hearts grew ten times bigger upon first laying their eyes on her baby. Of course after she was born, it was tiring enough for them to handle a baby as they were new to being parents. Though, they managed to get the hang of it after some sleepless nights and cleaning up baby vomit.

All of that which leads up to this moment where Y/N is buying some groceries for the family. Harry suggested they should take little Rosie out for a picnic. Although it was rather difficult to go outside without them getting papped and stalked, they luckily had a backyard that was big enough to have their little picnic together. It was all fenced up with a couple of flowers planted. It was ideally the perfect place to relax and have some family gatherings.

Y/N quickly gets home in time for dinner, not before buying some Chinese food for her and Harry. She unlocks the door and quickly rushes by the living room and into the kitchen to put the heavy bags of groceries down. Harry, who had been folding the laundry and entertaining his daughter, notices his wife and calls out to her. “Hi, honey!” Baby Rosie, who has been laying on a plush little blanket, perks her head up and excitedly babbles after her father’s voice. “Hey, lovie! Give me a minute to put these away!” Y/N yells back at him.

Harry hums and puts away the last of the clean laundry in a basket before laying on his side next to Rosie. He lets his baby grab a hold of his large hand. He watches as Rosie puts his tiny little hand on the center of his palms, smiling widely as she looks at him and babbles about in baby language. It’s not long until Y/N comes in with a bag of Chinese food and some baby food. “C’mon, let’s eat, my loves,” She gently says as she sets the food down on the coffee table. Rosie holds out her arms to her mother; much to her delight, Y/N carries her up and sets her down on her lap.

Y/N multitasks eating her dinner and feeding Rosie throughout dinner time. The faint sounds of a Fleetwood Mac album playing on the vinyl player filling the background. “So, what’s on the menu for tomorrow’s picnic?” He says as takes a bite off his spring roll. Y/N shrugs and wipes the excess baby food off Rosie’s mouth. “Don’t know yet. Maybe I’ll make those smoked salmon sandwiches that you like.”

Harry playfully moans in delight. “You mean, those sandwiches you make are award-winning, darling,” he says, which makes Y/N giggles at her silly husband. “Well, I hope they are, Mr. Styles. Would be shameful if the salmon I bought just went to waste.” Little Rosie eventually finishes her food and decides to play around with her mother’s hair. She stares and strokes on Y/N’s hair, gently tucking it at times. The couple smiles widely at the sight of their daughter. “You doing alright, bubs?” Rosie merely stares at her parents with her big green eyes, not understanding their question. It still amazes Y/N how much of Harry’s features Rosie inherited. “Surely you weren’t a handful with your daddy this evening, were you?” Y/N playfully questions.

Harry chuckles and takes Rosie out of Y/N’s arms. “No, she wasn’t. However, she wasn’t helpful in helping daddy with the laundry, were you princess?” He says as he lifts his baby girl above both of the couple’s heads, eliciting the sweetest laugh from Rosie. He does this a few more times until he stops since he didn’t want her to get dizzy and throw up.

It was a very domestic moment for them. Just the three of them, having dinner, smiles and laughter all around. It is moments like this where Harry prefers the simplicity of life, in the comfort of his little family. “Think it’s time for someone to go to dreamland, don’t ya think?” Y/N says as she caresses Rosie’s soft cheeks with her finger, Rosie obviously showing her tiredness with her droopy eyes. Harry nods in agreement, already packing up to empty food boxes to throw away.

“You wanna go up first, love? Nurse Rosie a bit. I’ll clean this up quickly.” Y/N insists on helping out Harry after he’s taken care of the house while she went to buy groceries. Though, Harry insists back on helping to clean, saying it’s no big deal. Without much of an argument, Y/N lifts up Rosie from his arms and heads up, not before giving Harry a loving kiss of appreciation.

After nursing her, Rosie quickly falls asleep in her mother’s arms, lulling to the faint sounds of her heartbeat as she rests her little head on her chest. Harry soon joins in the room and he stops to admire the sight he has become all too familiar with. Just the sight of the woman he loves, carrying and rocking their baby daughter to sleep, a feeling of warmth and peace fills his entire heart. Sometimes, he can’t believe how lucky he was to have ended up in this position and he always thanks the universe for blessing him a family that he loves with his entire soul.

Rosie gets tucked in her cot, a soft purple blanket covering her. Harry and Y/N go back into their room soon after. Harry lays on his bed with his eyes closed, humming a random tune while Y/N picks out her nightwear, which turns out to only be one of Harry’s T-shirts and underwear. “Can you believe she’s six months old now?” Harry asks out of the blue. Y/N turns around and stands between his legs. He sits up and gently pulls Y/N in by the waist. She runs her hands through his curls, he sighs in delight of the feeling. “Time flies, huh?”

“Soon she’s gonna start walkin’, runnin’, she’ll become quite the troublemaker,” he jokes and pouts at Y/N. She chuckles at his silliness. “It’s nothing we can’t handle, right?” She smiles at him lovingly as she strokes his cheeks. Harry smiles back and puts his head on her stomach, giving it a light kiss through the dress she’s wearing.

“Thank you. I feel like I haven’t said that enough,” he mumbles against her stomach. She looks down at him with a confused expression. “You carried her for a whole nine months and went through so much to deliver her to us. So, thank you. And I love you, darling. I’m so lucky.”

Y/N feels her breath hitched at his confession and she smiles at him. She leans down and kisses him hard. Sometimes, she thinks that she is the lucky one. She managed to find someone who loves and support her unconditionally, even through the late night snacks she had while pregnant with little Rosie. Harry doesn’t hesitate to kiss back and pulls her closer to him. She feels his tongue swipe across her bottom lip, asking for entrance. And who is she to deny making out with her incredibly talented and beautiful husband as she opens her mouth, making the kiss more passionate. Harry hears a soft moan from her and swears he feels shivers running up his spine.

They break away after feeling the oxygen running out of their lungs and lay their foreheads against each other’s, breathing heavily. “I love you, too,” she breathes out. They both smile widely at each other, feeling like teenagers in love. She pecks his lips one last time before pulling away from him. She starts undressing as she makes her way to the ensuite bathroom, Harry watching her every move as his mouth gapes open slightly.

God, my wife is so fucking beautiful, he thinks to himself. He continues to admire Y/N as she undresses until she’s fully nude. He gulps as he feels the blood rushing towards his lower region.

Harry’s cut out from his thoughts as a piece of fabric flungs to his face. He grabs it from his face and he chokes on his saliva upon seeing Y/N laced lavender-coloured underwear. He looks up to his wife leaning against the bathroom door, every inch of her on display for him and him only.

“Mind joining me for a shower, baby?” she smirks as she quickly heads in the shower.

When he hears the shower turn on, Harry jumps up from the bed and quickly takes off his clothes, tripping on his sweatpants on his way to join his wife in the shower.

━

Rosie giggles loudly and she reaches out for the blue butterfly in front of her. Y/N smiles at this soft moment and holds up her digital camera to take a picture. The sky was a nice shade of blue and clouds looked like cotton candy hanging above. The flowers in the garden were blooming and Harry managed to pick out two sunflowers for his sunflowers. It seemed like the perfect day.

Harry comes out with a bowl of freshly washed strawberries and grapes. He sits down next Y/N on the blanket they laid out, giving a soft kiss on her forehead, before looking over at his daughter. “What’s that, bub?” he asks Rosie in a seemingly excited voice. Rosie squeals and babbles to her father as she points out to the blue butterfly fluttering in front of her.

“That’s right, bubs! That's a butterfly!” Harry picks her up and puts her on his lap. Y/N is already munching away on the strawberries. Harry opens his mouth to her, implying that he wants to be fed with the red fruits, Y/N rolls her eyes at his silliness but complies as she puts it in his mouth, plucking out the stem. As she does this, little Rosie looks at the exchange and opens her mouth wide, copying Harry. The couple merely laughed at the little girl’s behaviour.

“You want a strawberry, Rosie?” Y/N smiles as picks one out, she bites lightly on the tip of it so Rosie could have the smallest bite of the fruit. Rosie whines and reaches out for the tiny piece. “Calm down, you bugger. Might wanna say ‘please’ to mommy first, yea?” Harry says to her gently as he rubs her back.

Of course, Rosie wouldn’t know how to say any words at all yet, so she babbles in her baby language and whines to be fed. “Think that might be ‘please’, love,” he says jokingly to his Y/N.

“Well, who am I to say no to the cutest girl ever?” She jokes back and puts the tiny piece of strawberry in Rosie’s mouth, her mouth slightly stained from the juices. Harry wipes it off with a napkin and leans back on his arms, admiring the beautiful day outside. He takes in the clean summer air as he listens to his daughter babbling about to her mother, Y/N merely nods back as if she understands and talks in the most gentle voice to her.

Harry sees Rosie picking up the large sunflower he picked out, her little fingers brushing against the yellow petals. He takes a look at Y/N and as he sees her smile, he thinks back about how lucky he is to have them two. There is not a day where Harry was never in awe of the love and passion Y/N gives to the family and he thinks of how he couldn’t possibly love his Rosie more every day.

He breaks off the other sunflower from its stem and tucks it behind Y/N’s ear. She looks up and blushes at the gesture. “You okay, H?” she asks.

Harry nods and smiles at her. “I just really love you,” he says as he cups Y/N’s cheek, stroking it gently.

Y/N feels the heat rising up to her cheeks. There is not a day where she’ll ever stop being in love with the man in front of her. She holds the hand that’s resting on her cheek and kisses it softly. “I really love you too,”

She leans forward and gives him a kiss or two. They both smile widely at each other, radiating the same amount of love, if not more, that they have for each other. Rosie squeals and claps her chubby hands together as she watches the sweet exchange between her parents. They both laugh at her cuteness. “And we love you too, my little love!” Y/N exclaims to her as she cups her cheeks and plants many kisses all over her face, making Rosie squeal in delight. Harry laughs and smiles at the sight.

Life certainly feels good to him. Surrounded by the loves of his life, there’s no place or moment Harry would exchange this beautiful day with them.

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #parkersroses writing #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #dad!harry styles #husband!harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles oneshot

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zarnzarn · 3 years

Text

Stolitz fic rec!!

I'm going to just drop my favorite stolitz fics here.

They run at night by @wearemisfortune

Blitzo is always moving because when his body stops, his mind races. This almost always leads to a terrible fucking idea.

Tonight is no different—but the result will be.

-lovely angst, lovely climax, and it captures Blitz's line of thinking in a serious tone but in a way still feels authentic to the character. And I'm ALWAYS a sucker for the sheer unconditional trust trope.

Junctures by @sluttycrimehat

To everything, there is a season.

-I still am in complete awe of how the author managed to fit so much in such little time. The bit at the end always fucking gets me, I love it so MUCH.

The last general by @curtailed

It's in a month after, with Stolas spent and lying on his side, that Blitzo finally musters up the courage to tell him.

-Hello??? BEAUTIFUL post-harvest moon fic, wonderful vibes, love how well they know each other in this one, the trust is amazing. Love it.

You got everything that I want by @bipridemoth

Stolas can’t recall a time where “love” wasn’t synonymous with “pain” for him.

With Blitzo, it’s not love. So, there’s no pain. Stolas doesn’t let there be pain, at least not emotionally, the physical pain is something he quite enjoys. When Blitzo leaves after their monthly night together, he doesn’t allow himself to feel pain, only anticipation of the next time. He likes that there’s always a next time, even though that’s because of his active incentive more than anything else. But that’s alright, he doesn’t want Blitzo to come see him without an incentive. He deserves favors in turn for what he’s giving Stolas.

-Stolas angst!!!! The angst really is delicious in this one, with just as nice of a happy ending. Blitz is confident about the relationship, which is Wonderful to read and the "I know where this is going" segment had me in TEARS.

Between fairy tales and realities by @coloringthegreyscale

Blitzo's a complicated imp and Striker and Stolas accept that. But what happens when the two worlds he's made for himself collide together for one night? Well...

-Okay, so yes, this is striker/blitz/stolas, but it's so good. All three of them have a lovely dynamic, managing to work out somehow, with powerful Stolas, wonderful Blitz and a HILARIOUS Striker. Go read the series, it's a lot of fun and has many cute interactions that made me smile.

The look by @seireileafy

Blitz has been noticing a change in Stolas.

-It's such a CUTE drabble, I adore when one person can tell the other is pining for them, and the LAST LINE FUCKING GETS ME EVERY TIME-

Instead I made my bed with apathy by @thebooklord15

Just like every night before this one, Blitzo glared at the form next to him, already lulled into the bliss of slumber. He had never meant for things to turn out this way-he’d gotten the grimoire already, he didn’t need this man and from the way Stolas treated him it was clear he did not need the imp either.

And yet.

-Jcjdkafj this one is so GOOD I love blitz being pissed off yet too deep in to stop, and like I've said for others already THAT LAST LINE, PLEASE-

Call and response by anon

It was a love story, maybe.

-short but deliciously angsty, with some beautiful imagery, really nice dialogue, and time-doesn't-exist-in-this-motel-room vibes. Love it.

Shovel proof by @kereea

Octavia tries to give Blitzo the shovel talk. He decides to help with that.

-FUCKING cute, love the Octavia/Blitz dynamic, and it has snappy fun dialogue!! Really sweet.

Reaching out, touching me, touching you by @allmightshipserasermic

Stolas hasn’t been able to preen sufficiently in quite awhile, since Stella refuses to do it for him anymore. Blitzo offers to help.

-PREENING FIC is there anything more I have to say?

The skin you could have by @coloringthegreyscale

Stolas catches Blitzo staring and it leads to some talk, some magic, and a little bit of fun.

-Again, BEAUTIFUL dynamic between the two, lots of angsty tenderness, and lovely body imagery.

Different shapes by @sirdust

“Before the exorcist, he taketh the image and shape of a man.”

Blitz catches a glimpse of Stolas’ human form.

-okay, practically a direct opposite of the previous fic, but SO GOOD, I can't describe it. Love the imagery and their comfortable relationship.

A helluva mess by @stratumgermanitivum

It’s not like Stolas isn’t a hot piece of ass, because he is.

And it’s not like Blitzo’s blind or anything, because he isn’t.

It’s just that there’s pleasure, and then there’s business, and never the twain shall meet. (Unless he finally gets Moxx on board with that threeway, in which case, Blitzo fully intends to christen every damn surface of the office except his precious Loony’s desk.)

-AMAZING, love the pining and denial on both sides it's so great especially since you can tell both sides know that they've messed up. Again, LAST LINE!!

Eat the whole cake (it's what you deserve) by @okoyik

"His Highness is on the phone for you, sir," Moxxie says.

Blitzo makes a face. "Who?"

"Stolas," Moxxie supplies, as if that's supposed to help Blitzo understand. His expression is surely one of complete confusion as he stares at the other imp.

"Who the fuck is Stolas?" Blitzo asks slowly, racking his brain for a face to put to the name.

Blitzo's memory starts to slip, and all he knows is he needs that owl that seems to haunt his nightmares to stay away.

-HELLO it's only on one out of four chapters for now but it's already SO GOOD I can't WAIT for the rest!!!

Stand tall, but your hands are shaking by @remymorton

It’s been a month since the Harvest Moon festival. Another full moon night arrived, and after that... Blitz ... He's not well.

-wordless cute comfort, truly very sweet, I love it.

Palaces and souvenirs by @cloudysonder

So Stolas is objectively. Objectively. Attractive. Kinda soft-looking, sometimes. Pretty. Whatever. Fuckin’ whatever. That’s always been a thing. Blitzo knew that, Stolas definitely knew that-- whatever.

"This is not," Blitzo thinks, sounding a little bit desperate even to himself, "some sort of revelation."

His flicks of the lighter get a little more unstable, a little more frustrated.

A clawed hand reaches over and takes hold of the lighter, lighting Blitzo’s cigarette with practiced ease, as if he’d done the same thing a thousand times before (He has, Blitzo realizes).

“Silly Blitzy,” he giggles quietly, giving Blitzo a soft pat on the head before curling up beside him, stretching one last time before closing his eyes to sleep.

Blitzo feels warm.

"This," Blitzo tells himself, and it sounds like a command, "will not be a problem."

-I saw the start of this fic on Twitter and have been following it religiously ever since. It's really a gorgeous fic, three chapters up, with the promise of a Great slow burn, fun dialogue and Octavia & Blitz bonding. The level of denial Blitz is in even as he moves comfortably around every aspect of Stolas' life cracks me tf up.

Can't by @hazbincalifornia

Blitzo realizes he feels something something that he doesn't want to feel. This was supposed to be simple.

-feelings realization fic, wonderful, amazing, lovely, also the exact same way I realized I was gay, funnily enough (girl fell asleep in my lap and I was like oh. Oh fuck.)

Too late to stop by @malkaviancake

Stolas spends some time with his thoughts, realizing that his feelings for Blitzo aren't as one sided as he presumed.

-GORGEOUS vocab, I'm truly very obsessed with it. Like most of these stories, LAST LINE!!!!

Itchy with want, thin on sleep by me

It happens in parts- both falling in love and having his eyes opened.

-I will,, finish this one day, but for now here's a few in between moments before they have The Conversation.

Heaven in hiding by me

Their nights together are good, they always are, both of their tastes lining up to be shockingly compatible, but on the days where they end early and they get to spend some extra time cleaning up in comfortable silence or playful banter- and Blitz would rather take a bullet than admit this out loud- but those nights are pretty great too.

-AFTERCARE FIC, I had to write an aftercare fic ft. Good dom Blitz, Stolas taking care of him in return and a comfortable relationship that they both know is going to cause Problems in the future :)

Love in the bones and sinews of this curse by me

Five times Stolas and Blitz needed the grimoire to break a curse + one time they didn't.

-self explanatory. I tried to make it as funny as possible, everyone bickers a lot and Blitz brings Stolas flowers and gifts, what more could you need?

Life is a curse (love makes it worse) by me

"Alright!" Blitz says, clapping his hands together, "Weapons out, and-"

Half pull out some gun or the other, but half just look at him blankly. Blitz wishes for death.

"Save me from this family," He mutters under his breath, "Okay. Take these then." He passes out the few weapons he'd brought along with him and doesn't ask if they know how to use them because if he hears a no, he's giving up and going back home. "Stick close and talk loudly so the others can hear us. Let's go."

They move out, Blitz taking the lead and the rest forming a circle close behind him, starting up a loud conversation about the neighbour's garden. It gives him enough time to wonder exactly what the fuck he's doing here, in a nightmare world with a bunch of pretentious snobs, searching for his stupid Ars Goetia boyfriend, instead of sleeping in his nice lumpy bed back at home.

-a sequel to the previous fic!!! I had to write some Octavia and Blitz bonding, and accidentally added in a bunch of teenage imps who work for Stolas who imprint on Blitz immediately. And there's Eldritch Stolas, protective boyfriends and found family!!! The whole shebang!!!

This ended up being Much longer than I'd expected, but genuinely every fic up there is really good, go check em out!!!!

#stolitz #blitz #blitzo #stolas #helluva boss #PHEW im exhausted #stolitz fic rec #stolitz fic recs #stolitz fic #helluva boss fic rec #my fic #i mean i put some of my fics up there so #also to all my mutuals in this post ily #stolas x blitz #stolas x blitzo

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nottonyharrison · 3 years

Text

writing tag game~

thank to @ejunkiet for the tag!

how many works do you have on Ao3?

102, some of which are art or multimedia compilations

what’s your total Ao3 word count?

365,868. Over 120k are from this year 😬

aaand now for the cut

what are your top 5 fics by kudos? (I’m not going to include anything mediavengers related in this as they’re mostly not fic and when they are it’s metafiction)

Not Allowed (888) MCU, Tony/Steve, Tony/Rhodey an ancient rule63 Tony fic that barely scraped over 1.5k words and I can’t believe people still give kudos to from time to time because I was a Bad Writer™ back then

A Bit of Reciprocity (868) Good Girls, Beth/Rio

The Flood I Saw Just Yesterday, Today, and Tomorrow (624) Good Girls, Beth Rio, the infamous pegging fic

Hazy Shade of Winter (599) Good Girls, Beth/Rio

Officially/Unofficially (588) MCU/HP crossover, Hermione/Tony. Again, no idea why people still read this and kudo it occasionally. Have definitely considered orphaning it.

do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I try and respond to every comment, I tend to go through once every week or two and do them all at once. Sometimes I just mark them as read if I have no response (or am not sure how to infer what the commenter’s saying which has happened a couple of times recently), or if it’s just like ‘I love [ship]’ or someone’s comment on a character that has nothing to do with the fic itself because... IDK as much as I try to appreciate every comment that type more just get my hopes up when I see the email notification and then I’m like oh. No actual comment on the fic then. Cool.

what’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

Well this is an exercise in fic deep diving! I have no idea, really? Definitely something from ye olden days.

Recently, Equilibrium

what’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

How long is a piece of string?

Errrr... I was going to say Good People, but then I remembered about Stop, Reset and was like... yeah that one

do you write crossovers?

I’ve written a few, all for HP fic exchanges.

have you ever received hate on a fic?

Oh yeah. I was on FFN for years, of course. Always to do with ship wars.

More recently, I had a lot of hate over The Pegging Fic, and just a bunch of other generalized anon trash in my inbox every now and then.

do you write smut? if so, what kind?

Nah, never 🤣

I have no idea how to quantify the kind of smut I write. If anyone has any idea, let me know.

have you ever had a fic stolen?

Lol, no I have not had that honour. You have to actually write things people want to read for that to happen.

have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! Someone translated a flash fiction I wrote years ago into Russian. I think it’s in the MCU A-Z somewhere? IDK it was years ago.

have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, I think my writing style would be too contradictory for the vast majority of fellow authors.

what’s your all-time favourite ship?

This is a joke question, right? I’ve been in fandom for over 20 years come on!

what’s a wip that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Dark Angel 2031, hands down. All my other WIPs that are abandoned are marked that way and I have no intention of ever revisiting them

what are your writing strengths?

IDK... just general prose, I guess? And the ability to get it (mostly) right on the first draft and only needing a few edits.

what are your writing weaknesses?

Keeping focussed, overuse of the word ‘just’, word repetition, impatience when it comes to posting, post-posting anxiety

what are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I hate this as a reader, so I don’t do it in fic unless it’s a widely known word or phrase (whether it be IRL or in fandom). I’d rather put “how are you today,” they asked in French, than have someone need to read a translation in a footnote.

what was the first fandom you wrote for?

The Fandom that Shall Not Be Named

what’s your favourite fic you’ve written?

Probably Of Duty, just because it’s so intricately plotted and I’ve worked so hard keeping the continuity while foreshadowing a bunch of stuff, and kept up with the character threads despite them beign spread out across the galaxy.

tagging - anyone who wants to share! Consider yourself tagged! Plus a few extras who I’d love to hear from @purgetroopercody @voxmyriad @parkotedarasuum @countessofbiscuit @ct-1994 @medievalraven @indiana-jackson

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svnflowervol666 · 4 years

Text

I Want Your Belly (Harry Styles x fem!Reader)

Word Count: 2.2k

Author’s Note: Oddly specific, kinda weird, sappy sweet. Got a good handful of asks for this one so here you go! Harry asks Y/N to join him in the Watermelon Sugar music video. It was a bit hard to write due to the nature of the scenario, but I hope you find it just as cute as I did. Take care and TPWK.

Even in January, the California heat is brutal and unforgiving. Sure, being by the ocean where the momentum of the cool waves cast a light breeze does something to midigate the miserable feeling of feeling like the sun’s rays are going to burn you alive, but it’s only a crumb of salvation really. We’re talking sweat running down the backs of your kneecaps, legs painfully sticking to the seat of whatever chair you’re sitting in, not enough water in the world to keep you from being dehydrated hot. But she wanted to be there.

She’d been oggling him from her sand chair for the past forty-five minutes. I mean, who isn’t oggling him when they see him tracing his fingers coyly over the flesh of a sweet, ripe watermelon. He’d been glancing in her direction in between nearly every take, smirking at her through his aqua-tinted sunnies and wondering if what she was seeing made her reconsider the offer he’d been begging her to take him up on for weeks. All she would give him back was her iconic side-eye before she’d go back to reading the novel in her lap and occasionally picking at the bowl of freshly-cut fruit she’d swiped from the prop table.

“And that’s a wrap on scene one!” one of the directors called out over the crashing waves.

Harry did what was proper - shaking hands and bowing heads and saying his ‘thank you’s before all but jogging over to where she was sat underneath the oversized pale-blue gingham printed umbrella.

“Change yeh mind yet?”

He had his hands on his hips, fingers resting on hem of the crochet-knit tank top he’d chosen himself for the occasion. She waited until she finished the page she was on before even daring to peer up at him through her sunglasses.

“How are you not dying in those pants?” was all that Y/N gave in response before going back to her book.

“‘M absolutely wretched down there if that’s what you’re askin. But yeh didn’t answer my question, lovie.”

She sighed heavily, dog-earring her place in her novel and casting it aside it in the sand before leaning up to rest her elbows on her knees.

“I just don’t know why you want me to be in it so badly. This is your video. If I’m in it, everyone’s gonna go crazy and it’ll be an even bigger shit show in the press than it’s already going to be.”

This made Harry crouch down to her level, his white loafers digging even deeper into the sand as he leaned on his haunches.

“That’s exactly why I want yeh t’ be in it. ‘S my video and that’s what I want. Want this t’ be fun and it would be even more fun if I had m’ girl with me.”

She stared at him, silently giving him her please drop it look, but it only spurred him on further.

“If it’ll make yeh feel any better, I’ll make sure you’re not in it a bunch when it comes ‘round t’ editing. Barely put yeh up close too.”

That was enticing,Y/N could admit. He’d surely let her have the final say in how much she was involved, but there was still a lot of stress that came with being on camera. Especially in her state. She knew she wasn’t exactly hiding anything, as they’d been spotted countless times in public and their friends had posted photos to their stories with her body clearly visible in them, but some things she’d rather not shine a direct spotlight on. Doing something like this would most definitely be putting her business on display for the world to see, and she wasn’t sure if she was ready for that.

“Please, baby? I won’t ask yeh again, but I’d really love it if you were beside me.”

She wet her lips with her tongue, eyes darting up to the underside of the umbrella as she really, truly contemplating giving in to Harry’s pleads. On her life, she can barely recall a time when she hadn’t given Harry anything that he wanted. He just had a way with people that wasn’t manipulative or conniving in any way - he was magnetic. Everything about him was so charismatic and mesmerizing and anyone that met him found themselves gravitating towards him and going along with whatever he was saying or suggesting. I mean, she let him put a baby in her for christ’s sake.

“Help me up out of this thing and find me something to wear,” she huffed, to which Harry dramatically punched the air with his fist in celebration.

“One condition,” she interjected his boast and Harry tilted his ear in her direction and tapped his earlobe with his finger to show her that he was listening.

“You have to go down on me when we get home. It was torture watching you finger that watermelon, but I’m pretty sure you already knew that.”

“Yeh talkin’ like yeh think I wasn’t gonna try t’ squeeze in a quickie during lunch anyway.”

He pulled her up to her feet, making sure to keep a steady hand on her back as he led her away from the ocean and towards the beach entrance where the trailers were parked.

“Wha’ about this one?” Harry asked as he pulled a strapless swimsuit with a palm tree print littered about the fabric and presented it to her.

“One wrong step and my tits will fall right outta that thing,” she quipped.

Harry held it at arm’s reach so he get a better look at the garment himself.

“Yeah. You’re right. They are gettin’ pretty big, aren’t they?”

There was no malice laced within his comment, but when he felt a harsh backhand graze his shoulder, he realized what he’d just said.

“Jesus, Y/N. I’m sorry. Didn’t mean it like tha’. Yeh know I love your boobs. Especially now.”

He tried to make up for it by reaching his hand out to playfully grab at Y/N’s chest, but she slapped his fingers away and continued thumbing through the racks filled with dozens if not hundreds of swimsuits for something she could manage to squeeze herself into.

“Ohh, wait! This one’s nice.”

Harry’s fingers got tangled in the lacy straps of the neighboring article of clothing beside the one he was trying to pull out, making a few hangers crash to the ground with a harsh sound against the linoleum. When she saw what he had found, she didn’t hate it. It was a sherbet-orange colored bikini that seemed as if it would cover everything she was concerned about showing, and the bottoms looked like they’d be somewhat decent at keeping her ass contained and wouldn’t ride up and make her constantly have to readjust it every five minutes.

“Alright, Styles,” she squinted her eyes and nodded in approval.

“I’ll bite.”

He watched her as she peeled her romper that perfectly cradled her small yet still mighty bump, lingering for just a bit too long when she unhooked the back of her bra and dropped it to the floor.

“You gonna give me the swimsuit or are you gonna keep staring at me? It’s fucking hot in here, Harry.”

She was stark naked and had her hands on her hips, a sticky veil of sweat still shining on her skin from the mugginess of the wardrobe trailer. Harry couldn’t help but chuckle at her state, his heart full of nothing but admiration for the girl standing in front of him.

“Here, I’ll help yeh into it.”

Harry kneeled down to the floor and guided her legs through the bikini bottoms. Just as he pulled them up around her thighs and onto her hips, he gave her bump a quick kiss.

“We’re kinda matchin’ yeh know,” Harry babbled as he fastened the straps on her top.

“‘S the same color as m’ nails,” he stuck a leg out in front of her to wiggle his toes and show off the bright orange pedicure he’d gotten that morning.

“That’s disgustingly cute actually. Maybe I should change,” she joked.

“No way,” he dismissed her.

“Yeh ass looks too good in this one.”

Harry clapped both hands against her bum with gentle force, the two of them erupting into a fit of giggles. He spun her around by the shoulders to get a good look at her body, protruding belly and all, in the clementine orange swimsuit.

“M’ pretty, pretty girl,” he whispered as his lips met hers in a kiss.

“You’re lucky I love you enough to do this.”

“I know I am,” Harry muttered against her mouth.

“Alright,” he continued.

“Just gotta change into m’ shorts and then I’ll be good t’ go. Meet yeh at the umbrella?”

“Oh hell no,” she jested.

“If you got to see me naked, I get to see you naked. Now get to stripping.”

The day went by in a blur.

What was supposed to be a brief cameo turned into Harry dragging Y/N into every scene he possibly could. When the directors instructed the models to gather in a pile around the pop star, he found his head perched in her lap, nestled perfectly atop her thighs with his temples pressed against her belly. When they’d wanted clips of everyone romping about the shoreline, he’d ended up carrying her around the beach after she’d gotten winded from doing one-too-many takes.

“Harry, I cannot fucking do this anymore,” she panted.

“I can practically feel my cankles growing.”

“Fine then,” he replied, hooking his forearm around the underside of her knees and scooping her up so that she was cradled against his burly chest.

“I’ll just carry yeh.”

He’d made her feed him raspberries as he sang the lyrics into the camera, even going so far as to suck on her fingers seductively when she went to drop one into his mouth. It wasn’t intended to be a serious attempt at filming the video, only him messing around and trying to get a rise out of her as he always did, but everyone ultimately decided that that the take they were going to use. She’d cursed him out under his breath, but they both knew it was for making her practically soak her knickers rather than getting dragged into more than she bargained for during the shoot.

Constantly, his hands always found themselves gravitating towards her belly. Whether it was rubbing her taught skin like a crystal ball as he sang the chorus instead of gesturing to the large watermelon that he was supposed to be holding, he couldn’t keep his hands off of her.

She’d known it was bound to happen at one point, but sometime throughout the afternoon he’d called for her and when she turned around, he was had shoved a watermelon up under his sheer, yellow blouse.

“Y/N!” Harry shouted at her from a few yards away, interrupting a lovely conversation she was having with one of the models.

“I’m you!”

He gestured to the fruit stuffed inside of his shirt, toyfully stroking the exterior in the manner that she always found herself doing even she wasn’t realizing.

It made everyone, and I mean everyone, explode in laughter. It only made her hide her face in her hands after promptly shoving her middle finger in his direction.

But she’d gotten him back. When the director wanted shots of each of the girls taking bites out of a slice of watermelon, she’d made sure to take the messiest bite she could manage so that the juice ran down her chin and down the valley of her breasts. Y/N threw her head back as if were the greatest thing she’d ever tasted, exposing the column of her neck that Harry loved to mark up and bruise with his skillful tongue and lips.

“Yeh tryin’ t’ make me hard right now?” he all but growled in her ear when she’d joined him behind the camera so the next model could have their turn.

She simply cocked her head to one side and smirked up at him.

“Payback’s a bitch, isn’t it? I’m going to the bathroom. All of this watermelon’s making me have to pee.”

When it came time for the portrait and everyone was being distributed their designated slice of fruit, Y/N found herself confused when Harry pulled her out of line.

“What are you doing, H?”

Harry held up a hand to signal that he’d be right back, to which he returned with an uncut watermelon. Quite possibly the biggest watermelon that she’d ever seen at that.

“Yeh don’t get a slice, yeh get the whole damn watermelon.”

They’d all piled up on the bench and stared stoically into the camera, only instead of raising the wedge to their lips to take a bite, Y/N sat on the grass at Harry’s knees, a whole watermelon resting in between her legs in front of her bump.

Y/N’s day ended up being far more fun than she’d ever imagined it could have been despite her constant nagging and jabs at Harry’s expense. While she’d initially only agreed to be a part of Harry’s music video under the condition that her role would be minimum, she was secretly hoping that all of their side conversations and what would be considered “outtakes” would actually make in into the final cut.

In fact, she’d had so much fun that at the end of the day when filming had wrapped and her and Harry were on the way home, the gentle hum of his convertible and the cool breeze that followed a blistering day on Malibu beach had slowly began willing her eyes shut.

“Baby,” Harry beckoned her from the driver’s seat.

“Hmm?” Y/N picked her head up from where it was leaning against the window to look over at him.

“Don’t go t’ sleep on me now.”

He reached over to grab her left hand that had settled itself on top of her round stomach. Before lacing his fingers with hers, he kissed her knuckles tenderly.

“Still got t’ go down on yeh when we get home. Bet yeh gonna taste like strawberries.”

#yes i got mad that i couldn't find this clip of the video in a gif on tumblr so i made my own #no i do not want to talk about how shitty the quality is #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles x pregnant!reader #dad!harry #dad!harry x reader #dad!harry x pregnant!reader #harry styles writing

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imagine-always-and-forever · 4 years

Text

Flutterings & Tequila - Part 13

A Klaus Mikaelson Imagine

Pairing: Niklaus Mikaelson x Reader

Summary: you’ve decided to go clubbing with your best friend the last summer before college starts to take your mind off of the Mikaelsons who have invaded your life this summer. Specifically, you’re trying to distract yourself from Niklaus Mikaelson and the flutterings he has caused you. Tequila is your friend tonight.

Part Summary: Clue hunting.

Warnings: typical stuff you’d see in the show

Word count: 3,115

Tags: elle88531, violentmommabear42, pisicakawritesshitatfour, a-quarter-horse-called-biscuit, hoeofnjadaka, thegingerthatwaited, despressolattes, aomi-nabi, pie46733, (let me know if you want to be tagged or I missed you out on the tag list!)

Authors note: so I’ve been saying I’d get back to this for ages. I know. But truthfully I hit such a brick wall that writer’s block as a concept had to add another tier to it’s existence just for me. Thankfully, for no clear reason whatsoever, it poofed away as some strong desire to write this again came to me after work. So... tada? Also I am sorry but so so many of you asked to be tagged (I’m very flattered!!!) that I think I’m missing a bunch of people. If I missed you send me a message and I’ll add you to the list. Enjoy 😊

You’re trembling slightly as you walk down your stairs, breath coming out shakily as you try to calm yourself down. You had 24 hours to find out at least something about what the Mikaelsons were doing here. 24 hours and no clue where to start.

Through the back window you could see Klaus and Elijah making their way out of the guest house. Their expressions were drawn and Klaus had a small black bag clutched in his hand. Your eyes darted to the door to the house. Were you that stupid?

The fact that your feet were already moving you forward gave you a clear yes, but at least you could report back to Josie that you did, despite her belief, have some sort of self-preservation. It was just a really fucked up kind.

The door to the guest house opened with ease. Of course the Mikaelsons didn’t think to lock it. What was the point? Who would try to get in to their home without their permission and who would live to tell the tale?

Well, hopefully you.

The painting supplies were still right where you left them. Your eyes swept across the room in front of you, cataloging what you saw. You’d helped Josie redecorate last summer, but it looked like the Mikaelsons took it upon themselves to do some of their own renovations. It was a little bit embarrassing how little of the place you’d payed attention to when you were here with Klaus.

They’d rearranged half the furniture for gods sake and you hadn’t noticed at all. With a frown on your face, you examined the new layout of the room. You wondered what prompted the rearrangement. The couches being moved about made sense to give Klaus extra space for his easels. But what was the purpose of switching the office area with the dining room?

The office, which you were truthfully rather proud of last summer, looked like Elijah’s doing. Two bookcases now sandwiched in the desk against what was supposed to be the accent wall of the room. Not a single bit of the pop of color on the wall was visible now. The imposing set up didn’t even look touched. You could feel your eyebrows tense as they tried to furrow further with your deepened confusion. Dust collected across the books on their shelves. You swiped a finger through it. Coated.

It surprised you that Elijah wasn’t as much of a neat freak about his environment as he was abou his appearance. Though, you suspected if he was he’d have spent most of his millennia+ on earth cleaning up after his siblings. You snorted to yourself. Didn’t he already do that?

A blank space on one of the shelves drew your eye. Amongst a sea of books and paperweights, a patch of dustless real estate on an otherwise packed bookcase stared back at you. If those Nancy Drew books you read as a child had taught you anything, that prominent rectangle of empty space meant that something had been moved. And recently.

That, you smiled to yourself, was a lead.

A scan of the desk and the rest of the shelves confirmed that whatever it was hadn’t simply been reorganized. You pulled open the drawers of the heavy oak desk. Pens, paperclips, highlighters, sticky notes, stapler, hole punch, scissors, and more pens. No. Notebooks, empty folders, the coffee maker’s instructional guide. No. Empty space with a single pen cap rolling around. No.

A dead end.

You got down on your knees. The floor was clean. Under the couches, too. The ottoman with the lift up storage option, empty. The side tables small draw with it’s tendency to stick (a single missing screw from Ikea can really screw your building abilities), empty. You moved to the TV console, frustration building.

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

You checked the shelves. You were too short to reach the top ones but the Mikaelsons weren’t. You grabbed a chair and stepped up. It was in vain. Careful to put it back as you’d found it, you moved the chair in defeat. You checked the kitchen. Drawers and cupboard were empty. The fruit salad in the fridge seemed to judge you and you sighed. You didn’t expect it to be in the fridge but it was almost eight at night and you’d torn the downstairs of this house a part.

The Mikaelsons could be back any minute and you’d found nothing. What if there was nothing? Had you wasted hours of your short time frame on trying to find something that didn’t exist?

It dawned on you that Klaus’s little black bag just might have –

A groan escaped your lips. What a colossal waste of time. Time that to you did not have to waste. You closed the fridge, head coming down to lean on the cool stainless steel door in defeat. Maybe there was a clue you could find back in the main house. Josie’s room might have something that you could give Jess.

With a deep breath, you straightened up. No point in giving up until Jess’s voice was ordering you to kill yourself. Josie would expect nothing less from you, and in truth, so do you.

As you walked through the house to the door you passed by one of the many shelves you checked and just like in one of those long rumored witch’s intuition stories, something pulled your eye to it once again. Something pulled your eye directly to an unassuming wooden framed photo that you didn’t register as new. So, something you’d had to have seen a million times by now, surely. But why then did it feel so very important to look at it?

You walked over, cautious of this intense urge in your blood. It was often hard to tell with magical urges if something was for good intent or bad.

The photo was in black and white. A little girl sat on a dock, one tooth missing right in the front. A man in an ornate three piece suit that had to predate the Georgian era stood by her, looking out of place but pleased with himself. Beside him was a boy that looked around your age. He was scowling in the photo. In his had he held something tightly, as if he would die if it were ever lost to him. Your eyes scanned the photo back and forth, that feeling still present. What was it? What were you supposed to see?

The background of the photo was just water. A lake most likely. There were no lakes here. Where were they? Who were they? You leaned in to get a closer look. The photo quality was bad and it wasn’t until you looked hard that you realized it wasn’t a photo at all. A painting. A small, incredibly detailed painting.

Klaus?

But no. How? You knew this painting wasn’t unfamiliar to you. You also knew that some how you had never noticed it. How could you go so long seeing something so often, convinced it was just a photo of something unimportant?

Almost like magic. Why would anybody spell this little painting with an unnotable spell? More specifically, why did Josie (because it had to be her) cast this spell when you were the only other person than her to see it? You didn’t have guests usually. It was why you had been so surprised when she had announced the renovation of the guest house last summer.

The moment the skin on your fingers touched the painting’s surface, a vision clear as an actual photo slammed into your mind’s eye. Blinded by the image, nothing existed but it and you were enraptured what you saw.

It was the exact image that had been painted, but the details were sharp. You could see the threads of the man’s suit. The pours of the little girl. The splintered wood of the old dock. Everything of the moment preserved perfectly in a snapshot.

There was no sound. You felt nothing from the scene. This was not a vision of the past that let you experience the moment with those in it. You could see the wind sweeping through the girl’s locks but you couldn’t feel a thing. This was the scene of the painter through the painter’s very eyes.

But who’s eyes? And who were these people?

You looked focused on their faces. The little girl’s slightly downturned nose and her rounded jaw clicked in your mind as your eyes rested on her’s. Josie. A young Josie. This made sense. This was a memory Josie had that she wanted to keep private. But why? And why keep the painting if she wanted it secret? The man beside her was probably her father, right?

As your eyes shifted to his features and they sharpened into view for you, Josie’s body blurred away. No, you realized. That was not Josie’s father. Though you had never met the man or seen his photo before, you knew this was not him. Because this was Elijah Mikaelson.

At least it made sense now how they knew Josie. Old friends indeed. But what on earth was Elijah doing standing on a dock on some lake with a Josie when she was a child and a boy? As your eyes darted to the boy, the change of the image didn’t surprise you. Josie and Elijah blurred and he came into focus.

Despite not having known him for as long or studying his face too much, it was clear by his eyes that you were staring at a teenage Jess.

You gasped and were ripped from the image.

Around you, the guest house came back into view. In your hands, clutched tightly, was the photo. Your heart rate was up and you didn’t know when you had started to breath so quickly or so hard. You blinked your dry eyes. Josie, Jess, and Elijah?

The sound of wheels pulling up on the gravel drive had your head shooting up. They were back. You didn’t have time to get to the house and though beautiful, Josie’s flower filled garden didn’t actually give you much cover to hide. Without a second thought, you dashed up the stairs.

The bathroom door was open and from downstairs, it was easy to see. Too obvious someone was here. The bedroom beside it was locked and you didn’t have time to find the spare key somewhere on top of the door. The closet next to it was too small with the vacuum in it. It wouldn’t do. You spun around, unsure how close the Mikaelsons were and if they were listening.

The other bedrooms had their doors open. Shit. Too suspicious. One door, directly across from the stairs remained. Could you even make it before they opened the door?

You didn’t have a choice. The handle to the room jiggled and the door clicked open. You slipped inside and went to close it as gently as possible when the front door opened. You froze. The door was still a jar. They’d notice if for sure.

“Well that was fun,” Kol sighed and you heard him flop onto the couch.

“It wasn’t supposed to be fun,” Rebekah huffed and her heels clicked on the floor as she made her way through the house.

“Drink?” Elijah asked nobody in particular.

“I’m going to bed,” Rebekah said with a short tone and you almost squeaked in fear as you realized she was starting up the stairs.

“Don’t be so dramatic, sister!” Kol called after her.

“You’re a reckless idiot without a scrap of self-control,” she seethed back.

“It’s not like he actually liked you,” Kol scoffed.

Something expensive sounding shattered followed by Kol’s laugh.

“May I remind you that this is not our home?” Elijah’s calm voice of reason came.

You waited with baited breath for something to happen next. If Kol could get one more quip in to make Rebekah break something else you could use the distraction to close the door properly.

“What happened?” Klaus said, evidently just entering the house.

“I’m going to bed,” Rebekah stated and you closed your eyes as a curse tried to come out of your lips.

“Sister,” Klaus stopped her and his voice was much closer now. He was on the stairs with her, you guessed. “You cannot get angry every time one of your many suitors gets eaten by our brother. You know how he is,” he explained in a hushed voice with a taunt.

Something smashed against the wall again.

“KOL,” Elijah reprimanded.

A thud sounded against the wall and you reached for the door, ready to close it if another opportunity struck.

“Enough property damage,” Klaus told his brother.

“It was her fault anyway. You know it,” Kol argued.

“I was getting him to trust me,” Rebekah’s voice was further away. She must have joined her brothers down stairs again.

“And that involved opening your legs for him, did it?”

You knew it was coming so as Rebekah jumped to attack her brother, you ceased the moment to shut the door. The soft click would be lost to them as they tried to pull their sister and brother apart.

The room you were in hadn’t been touched since the renovation. You walked over to the window to see if there was any feasible way down.

“Deal with it,” Klaus’s voice came from just outside the door.

You whipped around, eyes wide, as you realized they solved the little dispute far faster than you thought they would. You dropped to the ground as you heard Elijah reply to his brother. The door clicked open as you lifted the duvet and scooted yourself as quietly as possible under the bed.

Luckily, Klaus’s instructions invoked a lot of opinions from his siblings. He stood in the doorway and barked out orders at them. Something else was thrown. As you spelled your breath silent, you spared a thought for all the things you’d have to replace by the time the Mikaelsons moved out.

Klaus shut the door with a harsh thud and switched on the light by the bed. You squeezed your eyes shut at the sheer bad luck you had that this of all the rooms was his.

Klaus moved around the room, silent except for his steady breathing. Something was placed delicately on a surface in his room. Then, he moved to the window and you heard it slide open. He breathed deeply. The rustling sound of fabric peaked your interest. Something landed on the bed. The unmistakable sound of a zip had a flush come to your face. Oh no.

Another thing was thrown on the bed. You imagined Klaus’s shirt and jeans piled on his sheets. This was bad. He was going to bed. You were going to be stuck down here for the night.

Klaus opened his door. Huh? And then he left. Wait what?

Cautiously, you lifted the duvet and peeked out. Nothing. You scooted to the other side of the double bed, wincing as the underneath spring of the bed caught your hair and it pulled. The other side confirmed that he had definitely left and shut the door behind him.

Apparently the plus side of hiding under the bed of a paranoid hybrid with even his siblings at times out to get him was that he kept his room strictly closed off to everyone else.

You scooted out from under the bed. The window, now open, was your best bet. Who was to say if the path to the door was empty or if you could open the front door without alerting anyone. A well timed cushioning spell would make the rose bush you’d land on hurt a little less. The thorns would still be a bitch though.

A sudden realization hit you that you forgot the painting at some point in your scooting. You rushed back to the bed and had to scoot back under a bit to reach it. As your hand touched it, you were once again rushed into the snapshot of the scene.

This time you knew you weren’t the painter. You looked down to your right at the top of Josie’s head. To your left was Jess. This was Elijah’s view. Which meant, if you looked straight ahead you’d most likely see –

It wasn’t Klaus.

You frowned. You were sure it would be Klaus. But you didn’t recognize the man painting on the tiny canvas in front of him with a concentrated look on his face. He had brown thinning hair and a sullen face with cupid bow lips and a nose people would pay good money for. He was an odd man that was handsome and not. You wondered who he was and tried to get the image to focus in further to find some distinguishing feature of some sort.

You were once again ripped back into reality as you registered the sound of footsteps outside the door. The window would have to wait and you dived back down and rolled under the bed, hitting you head as you did so. You bit your lip in pain as the door opened.

Klaus was back.

You couldn’t say if he was gone long or not as you had no idea how much time you had been lost to that vision. It didn’t seem long, but then again they never did.

Klaus sighed. The distinct sound of a towel rubbing against hair was the only sound in the room for a while as you put together that he just came from a shower. So, he was probably naked. You bit your lip for a different reason. You listened as Klaus toweled himself dry. He pulled a drawer open and assumingly put on some kind of clothing. You hopped it was at least a pair of underwear.

The bed dipped as Klaus sat. The lamp was clicked off. Shuffling from above. The bed dipped in different places as Klaus got comfortable. As luck was not your fan, he settled directly above you. You didn’t dare scoot one way or another. He’d surely hear it.

So you were spending the night here then. Great.

Klaus fidgeted above you again, having the gal to not find a comfortable position for the night. You stared at the springs and mattress centimeters from your face in annoyance. To be fair, this could have been the comfiest floor in the world and you still wouldn’t be sleeping tonight. Not with Klaus above you and the rest of the Mikaelsons scattered about the house. No hope of escape until morning.

A sharp inhale cut through your self pity. Another one. Was he…?

#Klaus Mikaelson #klaus mikaelson imagine #klaus mikealson x reader #the originals imagine #flutterings & tequila #part 13 #niklaus mikaelson #niklaus mikaelson imagine #niklaus mikaelson x reader #oh my god it's been over a year since the last part #damn writers block and inspiration really be like that #idk why i'm back at it either but let's hope it lasts i'm having fun

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oddone95 · 4 years

Text

The Cycle of Hatred in Naruto fandom.

Ok, so I just wanted to write a little post on why this fandom (Naruto fandom that is) needs to chill and stop hating on each other so much. But first, let’s get clear in our minds that “Naruto” is a business franchise, and the goal of any business venture is to earn 💰. Earn money by evoking emotions in you. Now that this is clear, let’s move on. This will be a short (not rant) but rather advise to the various “camps” in this community.

1. To the remaining NaruSaku bunch:

Yes, I get it, you’re disappointed with the ending. Yes, you wanted Naruto with Sakura and apparently you cannot see how in the world NaruHina even happened. But if you took your bias out for a bit, you would see that pairing Naruto with Hinata was THE ONLY positive outcome for Naruto romance-wise. Or did you really want Naruto to end up with a “prize” that never even ONCE expressed her desire to be with him romantically in any way, shape or form. And don’t bring up the fake confession because this is all that is. FAKE. To save the love of her life from sinking into darkness. And how can you go around Hinata’s heartfelt confession during the Pein arc? So, please STOP insulting Hinata and her fans - let people enjoy the canon pairings that were planned from the beginning of serialisation of the project.

2. To the very vocal SNS community:

I’ll just keep it simple. If Masashi Kishimoto wanted this manga to be shonen-ai or yaoi, he would’ve acted on it. Editor or not, Kishi stands behind his story. He always has. And please don’t bring the supposed “homophobia” into this. Homophobia is a very serious rl issue that affects millions of people worldwide and you’re NOT helping the cause by insulting and hating on people enjoying the het canon pairings of Narutoverse. You do realize that your rants about it only trigger more hate towards yourselves and the cycle of hatred goes on. So we all end up bashing real living breathing humans “for the sake” of inked characters.. Let it sink in.

3. To the die hard SasuKarin minority:

Bruh.. There’s so much I’d like to bring up here but I’ll stick to basics. Firstly, your claim to be Sasuke fans is ridiculous because you seem to view him as a mindless, powerless beta male that was harassed by a woman SO HARD that he decided to give it to her.. really?! Is that who you think he is? Because that’s what you all seem to claim by saying that “Sakura chased after him”. You take that line from Gaiden and take it completely out of context. Do you know ANYTHING about Sasuke? Anything at all? If there’s anything manga taught us about his character is that Sasuke Uchiha acts as he pleases. He did so when he first left the village, he did so when he killed Orochimaru, he did so when he fought with Naruto, he did so when he willingly gave up his old worldview, and he did so when he married his wife. And you bring up “rape” into the matter. Seriously?! Do I need to bring up the sweaty t-shirts, licking somebody all over and ravaging them in their sleep? Do I? Thankfully, Karin redeemed herself by worrying about Sasuke’s wife well-being enough to deliver her baby and by thinking about HER happiness in Sasuke Shinden. She clearly cares about the Uchiha family wellbeing more than you do. She moved on!! So should you.

4. To NaruHina and SasuSaku respectively:

There is NO popularity contest. Man, I can’t believe we’ve got to this. There is absolutely NO popularity contest between Sakura and Hinata, neither there is for their romances. They’re different, just as the girls are different, and the boys are different. There is no such thing as a cookies cutter perfect romance. They’re written differently and I’m thankful to Kishimoto for that. I wouldn’t want every couples way to the altar copy-pasted. SS is angstier and more complicated. Their history is different. Yes. NH has been more subtle during the Shippuden but both pairings came together as was planned and we should feel proud and victorious that our ships made it to canon. But that’s too boring I guess. I guess tearing each other down is the new sport. So please tell me: what has Sakura ever done to Hinata except for being a good friend?! Same goes for Hinata. Can you put away your hate for Sakura/Hinata for one minute to appreciate the fact that the girls are ACTUALLY HAPPY! The way it was planned from the beginning. They’ve both suffered, ached and spilled tears for the men they love SO MUCH. And now they’re happy! Can’t we celebrate that?! This brings me to my next and final point.

5. To Sakura haters:

I’ll keep it brief. I honestly really truthfully DO NOT get WHY you hate on her so much.I REALLY DON’T.

5.1. For those of you who hate her for getting in the way of your ship, please see above. You really must either not have read the manga, or fanfiction.net is your source of truth. Hating her for being paired with Sasuke is same as hating Kishimoto for making Naruto a jinchuuriki because both canon facts were pre-planned by the author.

5.2. If you hate her for being mean to Naruto, then I suggest reading the manga past chapter 3 because this misconception gets debunked really quickly. You should stop refusing to accept the fact that Sakura really cares about Naruto as a friend and a precious teammate.

5.3. If you hate her for being “useless”, I don’t even know what to tell you because.. you know.. you don’t know the content of the manga called “Naruto” so why don’t you put away your bias for a minute and try to see what I see? All you have to do is clear your mind of all misconceptions and just read the manga with, you know, open mind?! To see how many lives she saved, how much of strength she has considering her humble beginnings, and how much valued she is in the village.

To the rest of Naruto fandom that gets swayed in every direction influenced by reviewers on social media, extremist shippers or even have trouble realizing that characters are fictional and nothing really happens to them unless it’s written into the canon verse by the author, I have one advice to you: please don’t let anyone’s opinions affect your judgement. YouTube reviewers are PAID to provoke and trigger you. They earn money by imposing THEIR ideas and theories onto YOU. Some of them bring their own life experiences into the discussion which only causes you to self-insert.

Naruto is an awesome manga! It deals with such important issues and carries such a positive message! Please, STOP ruining it by pointless wars that only fuel more hate!

Now. Going back to my first point about the money. Anime production studios have a huuuge interest in you staying glued to the screens. They’ll do anything to provoke you to talk about whatever happens on screen. They will bring their own bias into the mix, and fuel this madness even more. For the anime only fans I will say that you’re doing a huge disservice to yourself and to the work of art that “Naruto” is by only watching anime. It adds another layer of interpretation thus confusing you even more. Please, read the manga! It’s so worth it!

#Naruto #rant #cycle of hatred #stop #spread the word

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snarktheater · 3 years

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Hey, d'you have any French book recs? I'm trying to work on my French, and rn I have downloaded one of my favourite book series' French translations, but I figured maybe books already written in French might work better? Also have you read the Ranger's Apprentice series? 1/2

RA's def flawed - the books' narration does like to point bright arrows at the protagonists' intelligence, and the last few books def have the tone of 'old white man trying to write feminism', although at least he's trying? - and it's aimed more to the younger side of YA, but it is still a very fun series, and I can ignore the flaws fairly easily, at least partly due to nostalgia? This rather long lol but I'm wordy.

I'll start with the second question: no, although every time the series is brought up I have to check the French title and go "oh, right, I've seen these books in stores". But I've never purchased or read them. It sounds like something I probably would have enjoyed as a teen but I just missed the mark, and these days I'm trying to drown myself in queer books, so that probably isn't happening.

As for your first question, geez, I haven’t read a French book in years, so this is gonna skew middle grade/YA, though that may not be so bad if the point is to learn the language. I will also say that as a result, these may read a little outdated.

I'll put it under a cut, even if Tumblr has become really bad with correctly displaying read mores. Sorry, mobile crowd.

It's also likely that old readers of the blog will have seen me talk about most of these. I don't feel like going through old posts.

One last thing: while I was curating this list I took the time to make a Goodreads shelf to keep track of those.

The Ewilan books by Pierre Bottero

(It's a testament to how long ago I read these books that these are not the covers of the edition I own, and I can't even find those on Google. I'm settling for a more recent cover anyway since it'll make it easier to find them, presumably)

There are at least three trilogies (that I know of) set in the same world.

The first trilogy is essentially an isekai (so, French girl lands in parallel fantasy world by accident) with elements of chosen one trope, though I find the execution makes it worth the while anyway.

The second trilogy is a direct sequel, so same protagonist but new threat, and the world gets expanded.

The third one is centered around a supporting characters from the previous books, and the first couple of books in it are more her backstory than a continuation, though the third one concludes both that trilogy and advances the story of the other books as well.

Notably these books have a really fun magic system where the characters "draw" things into existence. It's just stuck with me for some reason.

A bunch of stuff by Erik L'Homme

I have read a lot of this man's books, starting with Le Livre des Etoiles.

They also skew towards the young end of YA, arguably middle grade, I never bothered to figure out where to draw the line. They're coincidentally also using the premise of a parallel world to our own (and yes, connected to France again, the French are just as susceptible of writing about their homeland), but interestingly are set from the point of view of characters native to the parallel world.

It also has a very unique magic system, this one based on a mix of a runic alphabet and sort-of poetry. I'll also say specifically for these books that the characters stuck with me way more than others on this list, which is worth mentioning.

This trilogy is my favorite by Erik L'Homme, but I'll also mention Les Maîtres des brisants, which is a fantasy space opera with a pirate steampunk(?) vibe. I think it's steampunk. I could be mistaken. But it's in that vein. It's also middle grade, in my opinion not as good, but it could just be that it came out when I was older.

Another one is Phaenomen, which was a deliberate attempt at skewing older (though still YA). This one is set in our (then-)modern world and centers a group of teens who happen to have supernatural powers. I guess the best way to describe it is a superhero thriller? If you take "superhero" in the sense of "people with individualized powers", since they don't really do a lot of heroing.

...I really need to brush up on genre terminology, don't I.

The Ji series by Pierre Grimbert

This one is actually adult fantasy, though it definitely falls under "probably outdated". It is very straight, for starters, and I'd have to give it another read to give a more critical reading of how it handles race (it attempts to do it, and is well meaning, but I'm not sure it survives the test of time & scrutiny, basically).

If I haven't lost you already, the premise is this: a few generations ago, a weird man named Nol gathered emissaries from each nation of the world and took them to a trip to the titular Ji island. Nobody knows what went down here, but now in the present day, someone is trying to kill off all descendants from those emissaries, who are as a result forced to team up and figure out what's going on.

I'm not going to spoil past that, though I will say it has (surprise) a really unique magic system! I guess you can start to piece together what my younger self was interested in. Which, admittedly, I still am.

Once again, this one also has a strong cast of characters, helped by rich world building and the premise forcing the characters to come from many different cultures (though, again, I can't vouch for the handling of race because it's been too long).

The first series is complete by itself, though it has two sequel series as well, each focusing on the next generation in these families. Because yes, of course they all pair up and have kids. Like I said: very straight.

A whole lot of books by Jean-Louis Fetjaine

OFetjaine is a historian, and I guess he's really interested in Arthurian mythos especially, because he loves it so much he's written two separate high fantasy retellings of them! I'm not criticizing, mind you, we all need a hobby.

The former, the Elves trilogy (pictures above) is very traditional high fantasy. Elves, dwarves, orcs, a world which is definitely fictionalized with a pan-Celtic vibe to it. The holy grail and excalibur are around, but they're relics possessed by the elves and dwarves with very different powers than usual. Et cetera.

Fetjaine also really loves his elves (as the titles might imply), and while they're not exactly Tolkien elves, there's a similar vibe to them. If you like Tolkien and his elf boner, you'll probably like this too. And conversely, if that turns you off, these books probably also won't work for you.

This series also has a prequel trilogy, centered around the backstory of one of the main characters. I...honestly don't remember too much about it, but I liked it, so, there you go, I guess.

I said Fetjaine did it twice. The other series is the Merlin duology, which, as the title implies, is a retelling of Merlin's story. Note that Merlin is also in the other trilogy, but it's a different Merlin; like I said, completely different continuities and stories.

This one is historical fantasy, so it's set in actual Great Britain, and Fetjaine attempts to connect Arthur to a "real" historical figure...but, you know, Merlin is also half-elf and elves totally exist in Brocéliande, so, you know. History.

Okay, that's probably enough fantasy, let me give some classics too.

L'Arbre des possibles et autres histoires - Bernard Werber

Bernard Werber is a pretty seminal author of French sci-fi and I should probably be embarrassed that the only book of his that I read was for school, but, it is a really good one, so I'll include it anyway.

It's a novella collection, and when I say "sci-fi" I want to make it clear that it's very old school science fiction. It's more Frankenstein or Black Mirror than Star Trek, what we in French call the anticipation genre of science fiction: you take one piece of technology or cultural norm and project it into the future.

It has a pretty wide range of topics and tones, so it's bound to have some better than others. My personal faves were Du pain et des jeux, where football (non-American) has evolved into basically a wargame, and Tel maître, tel lion, where any animal is considered acceptable as a pet, no matter how absurd it is to keep as a pet. They're both on a comedic end, but there's more heartfelt stuff too.

L'Ecume des Jours - Boris Vian

(no cover because I can't find the one I have, and the ones I find are ugly)

This book is surrealist. Like, literally a part of the surrealist movement. It features things such as a lilypad growing inside a woman's lungs (and, as you well know, lilypads double in size every day, wink wink), the protagonist's apartment becoming larger and smaller to go with his mood and current financial situation, and more that I can't even recall at the moment because remembering this book is like trying to remember having an aneurysm.

It is also really, really fun and touching. Oh, and it has a pretty solid movie adaptation, starring Audrey Tautou, who I think an international audience would probably recognize from Amelie or the Da Vinci Code movie.

I don't really know what else to say. It's a really cool read!

Le Roi se meurt - Eugène Ionesco

Ionesco is somewhat famous worldwide so I wasn't even sure to include him here. He's a playwright who wrote in the "Theater of the Absurd" movement, and this play is part of that.

The premise of this play is that the King (of an unnamed land) is dying, and the land is dying with him. I don't really know what else to say. It's theater of the absurd. It kind of has to be experienced (the published version works fine, btw, no need to track down an actual performance, in my humble opinion).

The Plague - Albert Camus

You've probably heard of this one, and if you haven't, let me tell you about a guy called Carlos Maza

youtube

I'm honestly more including this book out of a sense of duty. The other three are books I genuinely liked and happen to be classics. This book was an awful read. But, um. It's kind of relevant now in a way it wasn't (or didn't feel, anyway) back in 2008 or 2009, when I read it. And I don't just mean because of our own plague, since Camus's plague is pretty famously an allegory for fascism, which my teenage self sneered at, and my adult self really regrets every feeling that way.

Okay, finally, some more lighthearted stuff, we gotta talk about the Belgian and French art of bande dessinée. How is it different from comic books or manga? Functionally, it isn't. It really comes down more to what gets published in the Belgian-French industry compared to the American comics industry, which is dominated by superheroes, or the Japanese manga industry, which, while I'm less familiar with it, I know has some big genre trends as well that are completely separate.

The Lanfeust series - Arleston and Tarquin

This is a YA mega-series, and I can't recommend all of it because I've lost track of the franchise's growth. Also note that I say "YA", but in this case it means something very different from an American understanding of YA. These books are pretty full of sex.

No, when I say YA I mean it has that level of maturity, for better or worse. The original series (Lanfeust de Troy) is high fantasy in a world where everyone has an individual magical ability but two characters find out they're gifted with an absolute power to make anything happen, and while it gets dark at times, it's still very lighthearted throughout, and the humor is...well, I think it's best described as teen boy humor. And it has a tendency to objectify its female characters, as you'll quickly parse out from the one cover I used here or if you browse more covers.

But still, it holds a special place in my heart, I guess. And on my shelves.

The sequel series, Lanfeust des Etoiles, turns it into a space opera, and goes a little overboard with the pop culture reference at times, though overall still maintains that balance of serious/at times dark story and lighthearted comedy.

After that the franchise is utter chaos to me, and I've lost track. I know there was another sequel series, which I dropped partway through, and a spinoff that retold part of the original series from the PoV of the main love interest (in the period of time she spent away from the main group). There was a comedy spin-off about the troll species unique to this world, a prequel series, probably more I don't even know exist.

Les Démons d'Alexia

Something I can probably be a little less ashamed of including here.

Some backstory here. The Editions Dupuis are a giant of the Belgian bande dessinée industry, and for many, many years I was subscribed to their weekly magazine. That magazine was (mostly) made up of excerpts from the various books that the éditions were publishing at the time; those that were made of comic strips would usually get a couple pages of individual scripts, while the ongoing narratives got cut into episodes that were a few pages long (out of a typical 48 page count for a single BD album). Among those were this series.

For the first few volumes, I wasn't super into this series, probably because I was a little too young and smack dab in the middle of my "trying to be one of the boys" phase. But around book 3 I got really invested, to the point where I own the second half of the series because I had canceled by subscription by then but still wanted to know more.

Alexia is an exorcist with unusual talents, but little control, who's introduced to a group that specializes in researching paranormal phenomena, solving cases that involve the paranormal, that kinda stuff.

As a result of the premise, the series has a pretty slow start since it has to build up mystery around the source of Alexia's powers, but once it gets going and we get to what is essentially the series' main conflict, it gets really interesting.

Plus, witches. I'm a simple gay who likes strong protagonists and witches.

Murena

There was a point where my mtyhology nerdery led me to look for more stuff about the historical cultures that created them, and so I'd be super into stuff set in ancient Rome (I'd say "or Greece or Egypt" but let's face it, it was almost always Rome).

Murena is a series set just before the start of Emperor Nero's rule. You know, the one who was emperor when Rome burned, and according to urban legend either caused the fire or played the fiddle while it did (note: "fiddle" is a very English saying, it's usually the lyre in other languages). He probably didn't, it probably was propaganda, but he was a) a Roman Emperor, none of whom were particularly stellar guys and b) mean to Christians, who eventually got to rewrite history. So he's got a bad rep.

The series goes for a very historical take on events, albeit fictionalized (the protagonist and main PoV, the titular Lucius Murena, is himself fictional) and attempts to humanize the people involved in those events. Each book also includes some of the sources used to justify how events and characters are depicted, which is a nice touch.

It's also divided in subseries called "cycles" (books 1-4, 5-8 and the ongoing one starts at 9). I stopped after 9, though I think it's mostly a case of not going to bookstores often anymore. Plus it took four years between 9 and 10, and again between 10 and 11. But the first eight books made for a pretty solid story that honestly felt somewhat concluded as is, so it's a good place to start.

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unsettledink · 4 years

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Comfort (Re)Reads Recs

It's been a rough couple of weeks, both personally and just *waves hands around* you know, everything. I found myself going back to some of my comfort reads again and again and thought – you know, I bet other people are in serious need of that too.

So here's a handful of some of my favorite comfort reads across a bunch of fandoms. Most are pretty long, or series. Everything has a happy ending, but I like h/c so plenty have some hurt or angst on the way. I put the ones that have the most near that bottom.

For all of them I'd suggest looking at the author's other works too! And if you liked what you read, please tell them that it made your day a bit better. I'm off to do so myself.

Leader Of The Free World, @copperbadge

Marvel (MCU) - Steve/Tony, Bucky/Clint, 15k

Summary: Clint Barton's presidential campaign started as a joke. It didn't end that way, except for Steve.

Sixpence In His Shoe, @scifigrl47

Marvel - Steve/Tony, 100k

Summary: Steve and Tony should really read the fine print on what they're signing. Then again, some mistakes are not really mistakes.

Always Starts the Same, with a Boy and a Girl, lightgetsin

White Collar - Neal/Elizabeth/Peter, 21k

Summary: Summer, 1998. Neal Caffrey robs the gallery where Elizabeth O'Dell is working late, and comes away with a lot more than art. Agent Burke has no idea what's about to hit him.

Take Me Out, @setepenre-set

Megamind – Megamind/Roxanne, 10k

Summary: The Metro City Wolverines are the worst team in the MLB. So Megamind, using the disguise watch to manage the stadium’s illegal betting pool, is understandably shocked when Miss Ritchi (at the stadium on a ‘date’ with Metro Man…and his mother) wants to place a bet that the Wolverines can win against the best ranked team in the league. But then, maybe the luck is turning for all of Metro City's underdogs…

My Heart Comes Tumbling Down, @devildoll

Teen Wolf – Derek/Stiles, 5k

Summary: "This is a casual, adult relationship based on sex, and it is awesome." In which Stiles and Derek have a great time buddyfucking until a burrito ruins it all.

Technical Support, @astolat

Person of Interest – John/Harold, 13k

Summary: The IFT Plaza security team wasn't what John would have called the brightest stars in the firmament. (Written for the tech support AU prompt.)

From Thy Bounty, @ibby-writes

Marvel (MCU) – Tony/Peter, 30k

Summary: Tony’s eyes are always dark, but now there's almost no iris left. He looks hollowed out. There’s something terribly hungry there, despite the feast they've filled themselves on.

Gift of Choice, @everysecondtuesday

Marvel (MCU) – Tony/Peter, 11k

Summary: Tony Stark had a thing about giving Peter stuff.

Feels Like Something, Maybe It Fits, @learned-foot

Marvel (MCU) – Tony/Peter, 7k

Summary: Peter’s still not used to hearing that voice. Four months, and part of him thinks it’s a lie every time.

Better Than, unsettled (yup, it's mine. It feels weird to include it? But it was the comfort reread that set this off, so)

Marvel (MCU) – Tony/Peter, 40k

Summary: Maybe there isn't really a fixed point where it starts, where any of it starts, nothing Tony can point to and say, there, there is where I made my mistake, there is where I could have stopped this, there is where I can stop it from happening again. Maybe it shouldn’t have been something Tony tried to stop. (or: the one where Tony is going to be responsible for once, ok? He is!)

The Swear Jar, @allthemarvelousrage

Marvel (MCU) – Clint/Laura/Tony, 12k

Summary: In the last three months, she’s seen Tony go through a lot of mood changes and shifts of introspection, but she doesn’t think he’s ever been close to leaving. Then again, she doesn’t think he’s actually aware of how intertwined his life’s become with theirs, because half the time, he’s exhausted from Avengers business or exhausted from engineering binges, and the other half of the time, he’s either trading one-liners and witticisms with Clint or coloring with Lila or building things with Cooper or letting Nathan crawl all over him.

This, You Protect, @vmohlere

Marvel (MCU) - Steve/Bucky, 64k

Summary: The mission resets abruptly, from objective: kill to objective: protect

have you heard, peradi

Star Wars - Finn/Poe, Finn/Poe/Rey, 42k

Summary: "I heard FN-2187 was a Stormtrooper."

Transfigurations, Resonant

Harry Potter – Harry/Draco, 71k

Summary: Five years after Voldemort's defeat, Harry returns to England to help re-open Hogwarts.

Something Blue, Lapin

The Hobbit – Bilbo/Thorin, 34k

Summary: Thorin marries Bilbo after the Battle of Five Armies, a marriage of convenience, not love. Slowly, they must come to make the best of it, Bilbo resolves. After all, he's a Hobbit. They make the best of things.

Nothing Gold Can Stay, @bilboo

The Hobbit – Bilbo/Thorin, 296k

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Like a Comet Streaming On, @sineala

Marvel (616)– Tony/Steve, 32k

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All Our Secrets Laid Bare, @firethesound

Harry Potter – Harry/Draco, 149k

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The End Where We Begin, @ingu

Man From UNCLE (Movie) – Illya/Napoleon, 21k

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A man turns around., spqr

Marvel (MCU) – Tony/Steve/Bucky, 6k

Summary: Liver failure or a lone assassin with a long-range weapon will get him eventually. He doesn’t think it will take too long, now that he’s retired. He wishes death would hurry up. If happiness were coming his way, it would’ve gotten here by now. All that’s left to do is wait. Languish in the "later life" section of his Wikipedia page. Wake up in the morning and go to bed at night. Exist, until it’s over.

#recs #marvel #stony #starker #stuckony #white collar #megamind #teen wolf #sterek #person of interest #finch x reese #star wars #finnpoe #finnreypoe #harry potter #drarry #the hobbit #bagginshield

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akvtsuki-ari · 5 years

Text

Sweetheart (Ch.1)

Warnings: Mentions of BDSM and bunch of other kinks but nothing sexual in this chapter lol. Sub!Spencer and Femdom!Reader

Length: 5.3k

Authors Note: this is hands down the most self-indulgent shit ive ever wrote but do i care? the answer is no dsjk but this that series i had planned where the reader introduces spencer to proper BDSM and all that. hoping to make this fic kinda informative also lol. also im uploading this fic on ao3 as well. also no tags for this fic bc its really specific and ill probably be writing for it for a while! sorry about that

Plot Summary: Spencer Reid just wanted to be.., well, you know. He doesn’t expect to find much when he signs up for a BDSM dating website but somehow he manages you and he couldn’t be more delighted

Spencer Reid was certainly a lot of things. He was a lover of the arts, someone who had a particular affinity for 15th-century literature, a magician at best, a theater nerd at worst, and a teacher when life called for it. He loves the world even when it's really dark and he loves sleeping in even more. He loves his friends and they love him too - even when they pretend that his random facts annoy them. Spencer Reid was a friend, an FBI agent, a genius with an IQ of 187, and a son to a mother he loves wholly. He was a lot of things and for the most part - he knew a lot about what he really loved to do. He supposed that it's been like that his whole life.

It's not everyday that he discovers something new about himself. About everything else? Always. He loves to learn, but about himself? There's never all that much on the frontier.

It's hard to say, because of that, when Spencer discovered he was a sub. It's difficult to pinpoint a specific time and place, or even how the pieces got put together. He just remembers how it felt when it hit him, like a freight train going 100 miles an hour into a concrete wall. Or a plane crashing onto an island. Or like a fly hitting the glass panes of a delivery truck. He remembers the feeling when he was deftly reminded of this fact. Spencer Reid was a sub - through and through and he wasn't really sure what to make of it.

Surprisingly to most of his direct peers, Spencer wasn't a virgin. He'd had sex with 2 people who he'd been kinda friends with at some point, but it always got a little weird after that. The second time though, the girl ended up choking him a little bit when she got off and Spencer thought he had died. Not in a bad way, more in a "I'm so turned on by this I feel like I've genuinely gone to heaven," sort of way. He didn't think it was possible for a sexual encounter to make him feel like that but it did. It didn't stop after that either, which was the most agitating part.

Spencer doesn't consider himself a sexual person. Sex is about intimacy and companionship, and hopefully love when he finds that someday. Sex isn't necessarily about pleasure but that wasn't an easy lesson to learn.

Spencer just wanted to understand - so like any great genius he participated in thought experiments. It's normally a female superhero/supervillain that crosses his mind (he has an affinity for Poison Ivy), and he just kinda imagines what it would be like if they did what she did. The choking turned him on, but it wasn't enough. Through that, he figures out that he had more than a choking kink and that he was more than a little interested in a partner having complete access to him. He thought about it for weeks and the getting off was working for him but he couldn't get the fantasy out of his head. He wanted more - he wanted someone to fulfill his wishes.

It was too much for him to ignore. Those months of being able to hold off through masturbating are over and he's just sorta itching. Aching to act on those impulses with another person who can give him what he needs, and he doesn't want it to be transactional. Maybe it's too ideal to want a partner out of such an endeavor but was it so wrong? To want real affection and romance from someone who could also overpower him wasn't a crime and he'd be damned if he pretended to want any less. Spencer was just searching, even if it was rather desperately.

So, when Spencer finds himself on a BDSM dating site and he feels like his life is in shambles, he can only blame himself. It's not something he'd normally do but he's getting a little more than relentless about it but he also just wants to see what's out there. He's so out of it was it happens, it felt like he was being possessed as he made a fake email and wrote out his account information. Definitely blaming it on possession, he thinks.

It's too late to go back, as he scrolls through tons of profiles of rather intense looking people. He's not surprised, this is where people go to express themselves. They're entitled to that, it just sucks since he's just not ready for such levels of intensity. He wonders if he's in too deep yet, but he figures he'd hit that mark a long time ago and keeps scrolling through profiles. There wasn't much to go off of, many people not choosing to use photos for the sake of anonymity, which was good for Spencer. He clicks onto his own profile, reading his own bio carefully.

USERNAME: DOC187

SUB/ SWITCH / DOM

M / F / O

FETISHES: N/A

BIO: Interest in a dominant female companion. Completely inexperienced.

Spencer feels ridiculous, but he doubts anyone would even message him. He doesn't have much on his profile and he keeps things short for that purpose. He wanted to stay as low to the ground as possible - more curious to explore what was going in the world than to find anything legitimate. He scrolls through hundreds of profiles, mostly of people who were BDSM vets looking for new connections or fun. Some people catch his eye but they don't match his interests so he doesn't bother.

Except, one profile. The bio was beyond interesting to Spencer.

USERNAME: MISS—LILAC

SUB / SWITCH / DOM

M / F / O

FETISHES: Sadomasochist, Degradation, Humiliation, Pegging, Overstimulation, Edging, Crossdressing, Exhibitionism, Mutual Masturbation, Dacryphilia, Shibari/Gags/Bondage, Wax Play, Impact Play, Breath Play, General Sensation Play, Discipline, Collaring, Begging. Willing to try most things.

BIO: Interested in submissive males of any experience level. Helps if you're interesting and like to read and watch indie films. Looking for genuine connection and plenty of good banter. Curly hair is nice too. lol.

Before Spencer can think about it for too long his mouse clicks over that stupid little message button next to your profile. Spencer shakes his head at his own existence as he types you a message. Says you're online right now, but Spencer's sure he won't get a response for a while.

DOC187: Seems I fit who you're interested in. I even have the curly hair.

Spencer chews on his nails anxiously before he sighs at himself. He has no clue what's gotten into him belle before he can think he sees your 3-dotted bubble pop up. He feels his body wracked with nerves.

MISS—LILAC: I'm guessing you like to read and watch indie films too?

Spencer smiles. You seem interesting and the fact that the two of you were just talking normal was making Spencer happy.

DOC187: Indeed. I'm a sucker for 15-century literature and anything in Russian and foreign language. You?

MISS—LILAC: 15th century huh? I'll assume Chaucer. And Russian? You're interesting, doc. I'm more modern and English, hope you're not deterred.

Spencer smiles, surprised that you recognize an author as niche as Chaucer. He shakes his head at your commentary. He almost forgets that both of you are on a BDSM dating site and the irony doesn't escape him.

DOC187: Deterred? Never. I think you're rather interesting too, Miss Lilac.

MISS—LILAC: Ever the gentleman doc. I'm hoping you won't run away if I ask you more personal questions.

Spencer swallows. He types back quickly.

DOC187: What kinds of questions?

MISS—LILAC: If it's okay, you're real name and what you do. My names Y/N, and I'm a florist. I live in DC and I love romance novels.

Spencer smiles. He appreciates you laying down the path for him, knowing the stakes.

DOC187: My names Spencer and I work for the FBI. I also live in DC, and I love magic.

MISS—LILAC: Magic? I'd love for you to show me sometime.

Spencer swallows. Part of him feels like it's a stupid idea to ask you out so early but if you asked, he'd likely say yes. He decides to wait it out.

DOC187: I'd be more than happy to show you.

MISS—LILAC: I suppose you could send me a video but that's not the same as seeing the magic in real life, now is it?

Spencer is smiling like an idiot at this point. He shakes his head a little, jittery.

DOC187: Infinitely better live, I would say.

MISS—LILAC: Seems like I've found an excuse to ask you on a date then. Saturday's work for me but I'm sure it depends on you, FBI man. Before that, I'm gonna drop my number and I'll be expecting your call. (XXX-XXX-XXXX)

Spencer giggles. It's a little out of range for things he's used to doing, giggling aloud for someone else is certainly new. Spencer picks up his phone and dials away, anxious to call you but excited nonetheless. He heard you pick up the phone and his heart catches in his throat.

"Hello?," Your voice is smooth, and a little bit lower than he was expecting. It sounds pretty.

"Hello, Y/N," Spencer says back. He heard you laugh on the other side and can't help the way his heart flutters.

"Lovely to talk to you doc,"

"Still Doc? Not Spencer?" Spencer questions. You smile on the other side of the line.

"Doc seems to fit you. But, for the sake of formality, hello Spencer,"

"I like Doc too, but it feels like I should have a nickname for you as well. Only seems fair," Spencer says laughing quietly.

"If it's your prerogative you can call me Miss Lilac, or just Miss but..." you trail off for a minute. Spencer squints.

"Miss is a title, you know? Doesn't seem fair for you to call me that when I haven't earned it from you yet. I'm sure we'll get there but for now you can just call me Y/N," you say softly. Spencer blushes bright red, his voice betraying him as he speaks.

"O-Oh, well um - where does the name Lilac come from? Normally people go with their names when it comes to stuff like that," Spencer says shyly. He heard you laugh on the other side of the phone and blushes again, grateful you can't see him.

"I love the language of flowers and flowers themselves. It's a way to speak that not many people know - but I like the meaning and look of lilacs. White lilacs represent purity, so that was a bit of irony, but light purple lilacs mean first love," you say carefully.

"First love?," Spencer asks. You bite your lip for a moment.

"I joke that BDSM is my first love since it's such a big part of my life. Not as big as some but not small for certain. It gave me much needed confidence so I joke that it was my first," You say lightly. You hear Spencer giggle on the other side and you smile.

"What about your username? Any significance to DOC187 that I should know of?," you readjust your seat on your couch as you talk. Spencer grows a bit embarrassed.

"I normally introduce myself as Doctor Spencer Reid for work, not a medical doctor but I have three PhD's," Spencer admits. You raise your brows but hear the hesitation in his voice.

"Very, very impressive doc. What about the 187? It could be a plain ol' number but my guess would be otherwise,"

"That's my IQ, actually. I don't think intelligence can be boiled down and quantified like that but I couldn't think of anything else," Spencer explains.

"So you're a certified genius with 3 PhD's? To say I'm impressed is an understatement. Anything else impressive you'd like to tell me before I totally pick your brains," you say a little shocked.

"You wanna pick my brains?," Spencer asks. You wanna laugh at the irony of such a silly question from such an intelligent man but you refrain.

"Who wouldn't?," you say incredulously. Spencer smiles shyly.

"The only other thing is that I can read 20,000 words per minute," Spencer says trying to deflect. Your jaw dropped before but it manages to unhinge a little further.

"There's a lot to get to know about you Doctor Reid,"

"I'm sure it's the same for you," Spencer replies.

"Guess we'll have to find out won't we?," you say smiling.

Damn, Spencer got lucky. Hopefully he'd get to find out soon

_____

"Reid, are you listening?," Derek's voice snaps Spencer out of his entranced state. His smiling expression snaps up to look at Derek who looks a little exasperated.

"Sorry, what was that?," Spencer asks back. Derek puts down the case file they were working on. They had just finished a case and needed to complete some paperwork before submitting it for review and to be used in court. The job was given to him and Morgan and Spencer was evidently distracted.

"Alright, kid - what is up with you? All case you've been checking your phone non-stop and spacing out, all smiles and giggles. C'mon now kid, seriously. You got a little lady at home waiting for you or is there something else I don't know about?," Derek interrogates. Spencer doesn't really know what to make of it, though it's not really in his interest to hide you, it hasn't really come up with anyone on the team yet so it was proving difficult to decide what to do. The smile on his face manages to appear again as he starts to think about you, the tips of his ears red.

"Reid," Morgan says again, with a small look of irritation.

"Her names Y/N," Spencer blurts out faster than he can't think. Derek gives him a huge grin, holding his hand out to dap Spencer up. Spencer just looks at it confused for a second before getting the memo.

"'My man," Derek says chuckling. Before Spencer can continue Prentiss, JJ, and Garcia walk in. Hotch is the only one missing, and Spencer's a little grateful.

"What are we celebrating in here you guys?," Prentiss asks first. Spencer goes to say something to move away from his sudden confession but Derek is quick to cut him off.

"Our boy genius over here got him a little lady," Derek announces. The whole team erupts in questions and Spencer wants to bury himself.

"Congratulations, Spencer!! How long have you two been dating?," Prentiss asks.

"You guys are so dramatic. It's only been two months but no first date because well..." Spencer trails off. JJ just nods her head.

"Duty calls, I'm guessing" JJ finishes. Spencer nods deflated hearing Emily draw a breath between her teeth.

"That's tough, Spence,"

Just as Spencer goes to give a response back he gets a text from you that makes his day a little better. It's a selfie of you at work, a picture your employee must've taken of you in a room full of new flower deliveries. You're giving Spencer a toothy grin as you hold a bunch of gardenias in your hand.

Y/N 🌸: *image attachment*

Gardenias// You're lovely + Secret Love <33

Spencer cannot control the way his whole face bunches up in a smile, as if there's no one else in the room with him. Everyone just looks at him surprised, Garcia giving him a side-eye.

"How can you guys trust this stranger? We don't even know who she is! I haven't even run any background checks on her," Garcia complains. Prentiss nudges her side.

"I don't know if it matters - look at how hard he's smiling over there," Prentiss says. Garcia reluctantly looks and can't help but sigh.

"Okay well he seems really happy but still! We don't even know her," she pouts.

"I'm sure we'll meet her soon," JJ snickers at Spencer's lovestruck expression. Derek leans over Spencer's shoulder and raises his brows.

"Is that her, kid?," Derek asks. Spencer nods, simply staring at the picture you sent. Derek whistles when he sees you - you're genuinely stunning and he's surprised to say the least.

"Hot mama, pretty boy - how'd you manage that?," Derek asks, dumbfounded. Emily rolls her eyes.

"C'mon Derek, I'm sure - oh wow," Emily leans over Spencer's shoulder to see you and is met with the same reaction. JJ and Garcia are quick to follow thereafter, both looking equally as surprised.

"She's..." JJ trails off. The rest of the team just nods as Spencer grins ear to ear.

Spencer 🐻: Beautiful, as always.

Spencer ignores the rest of the team as they look at each other in disbelief.

Y/N🌸: Me or the flowers, Doc?

Spencer🐻: Both, but mostly you.

"Wow, Spencer you're really -" Prentiss starts

"You're whipped, kid. I mean seriously whipped," Derek finishes, nodding in agreement. JJ can't help but smile, giving Spencer a small pat on the back.

"She seems lovely, Spencer. How'd you two meet?," JJ says. Garcia stands around looking rather suspicious. A blush creeps onto Spencer's neck as he's reminded of how you two met.

"Online," Spencer says shortly. No one decides to question it, and Spencer thanks every god he can think of.

"Have you two FaceTimed yet? How can we know she's not, I don't know - catfishing you? Or scamming you in some other cyber criminal way?," Garcia sounds distressed. Spencer gives a small smile.

"We fall asleep over FaceTime every night," Spencer admits. Penelope's expression falls, and Prentiss gives a smile.

"That is disgustingly cute," JJ says laughing.

"Okay, well - I'm still running a background check on her," Garcia says stubbornly "But, I'm happy for you,"

"Thanks Garcia," Spencer mumbles out as he texts you again.

Y/N🌸: I wanna see you, love

Spencer blushes red as he reads your message. The word love makes his whole face hot.

Spencer🐻: I can't take a selfie for my life

Y/N🌸: You're with your team aren't you? Get them to take a picture of you.

Spencer wants to fold away, not ever really being the picture type, but how could he ever deny you.

Spencer🐻: How could I ever say no to you?

"Hey guys, can one of you take a picture of me for Y/N?" Spencer asks embarrassingly red. The whole team sends him a look of surprise.

"I'll take it Spence, try not to look as uncomfortable as you do right now," JJ says. The whole team refrains from laughing as Spencer gives an awkward smile. He thanks JJ who hands him back his phone before texting you again.

Spencer🐻: *image attachment* You owe me one

Y/N🌸: you're stunning as always. hadn't seen you in so long I almost forgot what you looked like.

Spencer🐻: stunnings an interesting choice of words.

Y/N🌸: I said what I said, doc.

Spencer can't help but do a little giggle, that causes the whole team to give him a look. Morgan just shakes his head, shrugging. Emily, JJ, and Garcia just look at each other before the room draws into a subtle but comfortable silence as Spencer just smiles, totally unaware of how whipped he happened to look. He didn’t seem to mind either way.

___

"How was work?," Spencer asks over the phone, kicking his shoes off as he looks into his fridge for something to eat. He hears you sigh on the other side of the line.

"Busy today - wedding season is coming up so tons of calls for centerpiece designs and costs. It's going well though, business couldn't be better," you say, clearly tired yet content. Spencer gives a small smile and feels relieved that things are going okay for you.

"That's really good. I'm glad you're feeling alright," Spencer replies. You ease into the couch as you talk to Spencer, relaxing by the second.

"What about you, FBI man? You have an okay day?," Your voice is full of a gentle concern that Spencer appreciates.

"Yeah, just paperwork and JJ said that we shouldn't have any upcoming cases this week to be worried about so I have the weekend off," Spencer says without thought.

"Have any special plans for the weekend?," you say cheekily. Spencer, still not having caught on, shakes his head for a second.

"No, why?,"

"Hm... well - would you like to go on a date with me then Doctor Reid?," You ask, giggling. Spencer's eyes widen in realization as he facepalms for a moment.

"Wow, I didn't even think... yes - yes I would love to go on a date with you Y/N," Spencer says laughing at his own misfortune. You shake your head instinctively, but the growing smile and even further growing adoration makes it hard to sit still.

"Hey, Spencer," you say, butterflies filling your stomach.

"Yeah?"

"I really like you,"

____

Saturday comes quicker than Spencer can really understand. You told him not to worry about what the days plans would be but he can't help it. Anxiously awaiting you in front of the cafe that the two of you were supposed to meet at, in a part of town Spencer hasn't really seen before. You said that you'd lead the way and the irony isn't lost on him.

"Spencer?," Your voice is small, as you call out to what you think is Spencer Reid. Of course, you'd seen him before but to see him in person like this was still so unfamiliar. His head shoots up, eyes searching for you. He's delighted to have found you, certainly that was true as he walks towards you. Your arms envelop him in a friendly hug and he can't help but find himself sinking into. You smelled sweet, like fruit and flowers (which makes sense, the more he thinks about it)

"Lovely to finally meet you, Y/N,"

"Same goes for you, doc. Would you like to be informed of our plans for the day, or do you prefer the element of surprise?," You ask smiling. Spencer laughs at your question.

"Details would be appreciated, but I get the feeling you're not gonna give me those."

"You're right! It's a trick question, since it's a surprise. But, promise it'll be good,"

"I'll take your word for it then," Spencer says with a small smile. You hold your hand out for Spencer which he accepts, locking his hands with yours. The affection makes him feel full of warmth, as you lead him away for the day you had planned for the both of you.

___

Spencer underestimated how well you knew him. He really, really did. It's hard to explain since Spencers been on a date before but this was so profoundly different. He's a little touched, but beyond that he's just.. surprised? Every date he'd been on before this, he'd have to play the gentleman but it never seemed like the other person was interested in just him. It was always casual small-talk over dinner, or a mid-day coffee date or something else that just felt mundane but this was beyond Spencer's imagination.

The first place you took him was a bookstore - which was in Spencers mind already a winner for best date he'd ever been on. You walked inside with him and told him he had to pick up a book for you and you had to pick up a book for him and to say his heart absolutely fluttered would be an understatement. He picked up up a copy of "The Screwtape Tales," by C.S. Lewis for you, and you gave him a copy of Shel Silverstein's "Where The Sidewalk Ends." For you, you got a glimpse to see what Spencer's sense of humor was and you gave Spencer a piece of your childhood. Both equal but opposite forms of intimacy. The only thing was Spencer had to wait to read his book because it's relatively shorter than yours and he reads 20,000 words per minute.

The next place you took Spencer was an indoor butterfly garden. Does he have to explain why that's a good date? He heard you talk about all the scientific names for the different flowers and why they attract butterflies and he wasn't sure he could crush any harder on you if he tried. A particular moment sticks out to him on which a butterfly landed on your shoulders and just stayed there like it didn't want to leave. Spencer's eyes were fixated on it the whole time - and he had never wanted to be a butterfly in his life before but he figures there's a first time for everything.

The last place, where the both of you were at now was just a small coffee shop, locally owned and supported by the community here. You told Spencer that when you started up your shop, you'd come in here to work on big orders before you'd expanded enough to have employees. Spencer admires your work ethic, much more than he could ever anticipate as he sits down at a small booth, totally covering the both of you as you return to the table with a little plate of banana bread and two iced coffees. Spencer pouts as he looks up at you, watching you flash him a grin.

"I could've helped you carry this over," Spencer complains gently. You roll your eyes.

"Maybe next time doc," you say softly. You hold back your commentary often on the date, and Spencer pretends not to notice for your sake but he'd be lying if he said he didn't wanna know. You always had something sly to say but you'd kept it from him so many times now he figures it's better if he didn't ask.

Spencer looks at you as you push a plate of banana bread towards him. He looks at you with curious eyes before reading your clearly excited face and laughs. He picks up a piece and examines it, before taking a bite. If it tasted as good as it smelled then he would be more than obliged.

The involuntary moan that escapes Spencer's throat makes you choke with laughter. Shit, you weren't kidding when you said this was the best banana bread in the city. Spencer just looks up at you like he's about to cry with joy as you double over in giggles.

"I know," You say softly, taking a bite yourself eyes filling with joy "I ordered some more for us to take home - you're welcome," you say with confidence. Spencer smiles because that is genuinely thoughtful, but it was more endearing to see you pretend it wasn't. He just shakes his head, a blush arising to his face as he looks at you. You're staring at him with intent. He quirks his brow at you in question.

"I had a good time today, Spencer" You say warmly. You only called him Spencer when you were saying something affectionate and a bit serious. He gives you a toothy smile.

"I haven't been on very many dates, but this was easily the best one I'd ever been on," Spencer says honestly. You grin ear to ear, hands carefully holding Spencer across the table, running your thumb over his knuckles for a few seconds. You couldn't say for sure whether it was too soon to ask him to be your boyfriend, but you'd be damned if you said it didn't cross your mind.

Spencer was mind-numbingly unaware of what good boyfriend material he was, but beyond that - what good submissive boyfriend material he was. It was driving you nuts, but you knew this was all new for him and you didn't wanna freak him out. Even when guys say they're interested in being submissive, they're still often times uncomfortable with you being fully dominant. Dominant in public and in bed, if you will. You wanted to pay for dates, and buy him flowers, and make him feel special too - at least on the occasion. That role came naturally to you, that let me make you feel owned type affection that only a dominant person can give. It scared men off - out of relationships, and you totally got why - but you liked Spencer too much as a person to risk iit.

Spencer holds your hands together, gathering your attention. You looked at him spaced out and he gives you a look of concern.

"You okay?," Spencer asks. You nod, chewing your lip in debate of whether or not you should express your concerns. Spencer just tugs on your hand and looks at you intently.

You sigh, looking at Spencer softly.

"I'm okay I just really like you," you say a little exasperated. Spencer laughs but is filled with relief.

"I'm glad to hear that. What else is on your mind?,"

"I really like you - like in an, I want you to officially by my boyfriend way and I hope it's not too soon but I'm just, worried I guess," you say nervously. Spencer can't help the way his heart beats in his chest when he hears you say boyfriend. God did he want to be your boyfriend.

"What're you worried about?,"

"I'm worried about freaking you out. I can be a lot since I'm... you know?," You say nervously. Spencer looks at you to continue.

"I'm more than just dominant in bed, and for a lot of guys it's not their thing and that's their right but I like you so much. I really don't want that to happen if I ask you out now and you realize that it's not for you," you say in clear upset.

Spencer looks at you in disbelief. You were worried that he was gonna freak out over that? That you were too dominant for him? It feels like such a silly concern but the expression on your face tells him you're speaking from experience.

"I mean, it's all kinda new to me but, well - I do like how you treat me? It's a nice change, I can't imagine myself getting tired of it, or of you. I really like you too," Spencer tried his best to reassure you without totally embarrassing you. You smiles at Spencer but your face is still full of doubt.

"If that ever changes, I'll tell you but I'd really like to call you my girlfriend," Spencer finishes. You can't help the warmth that spreads in your stomach at the offer. You just nod, looking up at him. You stand and walk to Spencer's side of the booth, sliding in next to him, leaning your head into his shoulder for a few while seconds. You sit back up, and Spencer turns to you.

"Hey, doc," you say softly. Spencer hums in acknowledgement.

"Can I kiss you?," you ask softly. Spencer chews his lip and nods, looking down at your lip. You're wearing lipgloss and it makes them look pretty - you are so pretty to Spencer.

Kisses are their own language, Spencer figures. The way someone kisses you can tell you a lot about who they are - so, when you put your hands on the side of Spencer's face, pulling him closer to you with such care and adoration - Spencer can feel what you were referencing earlier. The word Miss rings out in his mind, the way you pay attention to him with your hands. He feels your lips press against his, slowly gliding your fingers in his hair, thumb brushing agains the side of his cheek. Your other hand rested on his inner thigh and he has to think about anything other than that not to get hard. Spencer didn't get how much he'd been thinking about touching you until you'd do with no hesitation and he lets out a small whine. You pull back and Spencer has to catch his breath.

His lashes blink up at you and you're absolutely beaming.

"You're cute baby,"

Baby? Spencer wants to cover his face when you say it. You kiss him again and he can't help but feel flush.

You were Spencer's girlfriend and then some and he couldn't be more happy.

#spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid angst #spencer reid oneshot #spencer x y/n #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #Criminal Minds #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x y/n #sub!spencer #sub!spencer reid #so nervous abt uploading this lol

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myblueeyedbuggers · 3 years

Text

My Boys

Chapter 11

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14

Pairings: Steve Rogers X Reader (Best Friend) Bucky Barnes X Reader

Word Count: 1531

Warnings: Language, Bullying Themes

Summary: After being abandoned by her parents in Brooklyn in 1929, y/n makes a living for herself by working for the Црни лабуд gang until she meets two boys in a back alley and her life slowing begins to change.

Eyup my Loves! so it’s been a while since I last added to the story, I tried my best to keep my writing similar to my previous chapters, let me know what you all think! any advice or constructive criticism is welcome :) I’ll shush now, enjoy!

(This is what I Imagine Annetta to look like :) )

So, in case you were all wondering, the day didn’t get any better. I mean I kinda knew that kids my age could be massive A holes to each other, but I didn’t really expect to see it literally the flipping second I ‘walked’ through the doors. And by walked I mean dragged by the duo known as my own personal demons, or Steve and Bucky to the rest of the population. A crowd of kids were all gathered around a row of lockers, loads of the shitheads were cheering and encouraging whatever the hell was goin’ on, and as I was about to find out it wasn’t a surprise performance by Frank Sinatra. Safe to say that was a bigger disappointment that diet coke. Anyway, what was I saying ? oh yeah, stood at the front of the crowd were a bunch of lasses that couldn’t of been older than 16, in their hands was a bunch of eggs and flour. At the bottom of their feet, on the floor, was a kid around the same age as me, her glasses were snapped in half and the bottom of to shirt was ripped, but what disgusted me the most was the fact she was begging for help as these girls smashed egg after egg into her face. You know how bulls lose their shit when they see somethin’ red? Yeah imagine that but 10x worse, the lads didn’t have time to stop me as I tore through the crowd ready to beat the ever-loving shit outta these pricks.

“‘OI! WHAT THE ACTUAL SHIT ARE YOU DOIN’” the crowd fell silent as the girls turned to me with what one can only assume was supposed to be a ‘threatening’ glare, if I’m being completely honest it looked like they’d all simultaneously crapped em self’s. One of the girls stepped forwards, she was only a tad taller than me, her hair was a bright red, her green eyes were narrowed at me like she couldn’t believe someone was actually talking back to her. I think this is the part where I yell surprise right ? no? okay then. “Not that I care, but who the hell do you think you are? You got any idea who I am?” she sneered at me, oh my god! I’ve found someone with a bigger ego than Bucky. How in the hell is that possible. “well from first glance I’da said Santa Clause’s ex-wife but I reckon he’d have a better taste in girls now I’ve seen you up close”. And que the outraged gasps from her minions in 3,2,1…. I could hear a few people laughin’ and if I weren’t mistaken a very loud “Oh Jesus wept” from barney boy. Oooh yeah that’s when I know I’m doing my job right.

“YOU BITCH!” she screamed at me, her grubby little hands started swinging towards me in such an exaggerated way it was almost funny, I mean come on anyone coulda seen that comin’ from a mile off. And like the genius I am, I literally just side stepped her as she lunged forward, an’ from the look on her face she weren’t expecting that, it was like the world slowed down as she surged forward unable to stop herself. Well that was till she landed head -first in the bin. I’d be a big fat liar if I said I wasn’t on the floor dying from laughter. Her legs were flailing above her head as she struggled to pull herself outta there, her cronies tried to help by grabbing her legs but that ended with one of em sporting one heck of a shiner on her right eye. A small sniffle pulled my attention away from the rather hilarious sight, glancing behind me I saw the young lass still on the ground, holdin’ her glasses which were in half with tears rolling down her cheeks. “hey, it’s okay now, they’ve gone. Here take my hand, lets get ya cleaned up eh? Reckon they’re be a bathroom round here somewhere”. The lass didn’t say anything to me, only looking at me with apprehension before taking my outstretched hand and leading us to the bathroom, the sound of the crowd growing quieter as we moved further away from it. “Thanks for saving me from Monica, she’s been bullying me since we were 11, nobody’s ever stood up for me before.” Her voice was so quiet, it shook from the effort it took her to hold back her tears, and I admired her strength, not a lotta girls woulda gone this long and not tell a teacher. “Don’t worry about it mate, I’m sorry it took so long for someone to defend ya, my names y/n by the way, don’t think we’ve met” her brown eyes met mine, as a small smile spread across her face, I couldn’t really tell what colour her hair was but I’m guessing it’s a shade a brown, other than that she looked like a completely normal person. “My names Annetta, you’re right we ain’t met yet but I’m glad we did”.

-Later that day

It took us ‘bout 30 minutes to get all the egg off Annetta, best we could do was wash it off and cover up the stains with the cardigan I leant her, but what really put the icing on the cake was the teacher in period 1 yellin’ at us for being so late. The temptation to yeet my shoe at someone had never been as strong as it was in that moment, fortunately for the overgrown turnip of a teacher I had to settle for a mean ass side eye. And man was it a mean one.

Apart from that the day had gone by with no more incidents, well unless you count me chasing Bucky round the canteen with a carton of milk for stealin’ half my lunch, much to Annetta’s entertainment and Steve’s embarrassment. I mean the butthole deserved it, nobody and I mean NOBODY messes with my lunch. Even blue-eyed boys with a smile that could charm the devil….what am I sayin’?!

ANYWAYS it’s now what? 4th period I think, which meant English with Annetta, and maybe my favourite boys in the world. Shakespeare and Charles Dickens. Bet ya thought I were gonna say Steve and Bucky right? Well they’re currently sat behind me debating who’d win in a fight, Popeye, or Bugs Bunny. I’m surrounded by idiots. Thankfully, the teacher walked into the classroom and saved me, Mrs Davis seemed like a nice woman, she had a friendly smile and roundish face, her hair tied back into a neat bun as she took a seat. Now I’ll save you the boring bits, she started the lesson with a pop quiz which was just plain rude, about halfway through it the door burst open and there stood my best friend in the entire world. Monica. I have to say I loved her new style, the schools P.E kit really brought out the judgement in her eyes, did you detect my sarcasm yet?.

You wanna know what made her entrance even more dramatic ? the lovely aroma of gone off milk and rotted banana skins that followed her around the room, I could help the smirk on my face as everyone around me started gagging at the smell. If you ask me I reckon it’s an improvement, I mean she certainly captures the attention of everyone in the room. Monica’s face started to match her hair, quickly racing over to Mrs Davis to give her the tardy slip before taking her seat which just had to be across from me, whoopee for me. Eventually Mrs Davis got the attention back to her, carrying on with her lesson, which moved onto matching up the famous English literature quotes with the character and book. To be fair this was actually a load of fun for me, even if Steve butchered a line from Romeo and Juliet, I don’t remember Shakespeare saying, ‘ A rose by any other name would smell as bad’. The way I banged my head on the table made Annetta think I broke my neck. Fun times people.

Of course, my reaction didn’t escape Mrs Davis’s attention, just my luck eh?. “Miss y/n, seeing as you seem to know everything, answer me this. Elizabeth Bennet is a main character in a well-known book, she’s known for the quote ‘I am a no bird and no net ensnares me. I am a free human being with an independent will’. The question is who is the author of this book is it A) Charles Dickens B) Jane Austen or C) Arthur Conan Doyle ?”. Is she being for real right now?. “Miss? With no disrespect the question itself is wrong, that wasn’t said by Elizabeth Bennet from pride and Prejudice, but said by Jane Eyre, and it was written by Charlotte Brontë”. A small smile spread across her face, which was confusing as all heck and a tad creepy to be honest, “very well-done Miss y/n, that’s the first time a student has gotten that question correct.”……

What in the name of ever-loving fluff just happened?….

So our girl is back and kicking butt! hopefully it’s not as bad as I think it is, and again I want to thank you all again for being so patient with me, good news is I’ve got the rest of the book written already! I’ll be posting them at least once a week.

Lots of love,

Rose xxx

#winter soldier x reader #winter soldier #captain america x reader #captain america #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #mcu #fanfic #reader #reader insert #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader

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checkurwindow · 4 years

Text

since you walked out

Book: Open Heart

Warnings: Mentions of Christianity around the start if that requires a warning and one or two swears but other than that nothing much. Also a good amount of flashbacks. And while you’re at it, here’s my masterlist for more angst-filled works!

Rating: Teen

Pairing: Bryce x F!MC

Word Count: 3200+ A little higher than my usual word count but not the highest (Check out the fic with a word count of over 5200!)

Author’s Note: Finally back from my little break with a new Bryce fic. I got a burst of inspiration listening to songs and decided to write this. Also, flashbacks are in italic. Enjoy!

For as long as she could remember, her family would always drag her to church. They were always very religious. She would always be forced into a dress when they went out, constantly reminded to “act like a lady” whenever there were boys around, she’d be pushed to be the poster child of the perfect Christian.

When she was fourteen, she went into church on a Monday, for a funeral instead. She instantly noticed the change in tone the moment she set foot on the marble steps out front, and ever since then, she looked at churches a little differently. She realised that they held an entirely different meaning than she once thought. She learned that they could be just as devastating and sad as they were celebratory.

Like now, where people gathered at the steps, mingling and conversing in expensive clothes that they weren’t going to wear again. There was a truck out on the lawn a bit further from where she was, the workers hastily moving tables and decorations to a tent that was set up at the back. To her side, there were a handful of people complimenting a little girl in a white dress.

A stretch limousine pulled up at the side of the road and a few women climbed out of the car, all wearing matching pale coloured dresses.

She tugged at her own dress and hoped that the simple colour of her own dress would allow her to blend into the crowd and go about unnoticed. Aurora had told her it was fine; besides, it wasn’t as if a fancy new dress was something that would fit in her budget.

And it wasn’t like anyone here would care about her, much less her appearance and what she’s wearing. If someone was to take notice of her, it definitely wouldn’t be because of her dress. They weren’t there for her. In fact, she was yet to spot a single familiar face, which should have been a good thing for her, but she couldn’t help but wonder how many of the guests present both parties actually knew and had met prior to that day.

“Would you ever get married?”

He let out an annoyed sigh, “marriage isn’t as meaningful as one might think, why should I have to document my love to you if we both already know the truth?”

“Okay,” she said, a little disappointed, “but I wouldn’t mind seeing you in a fancy tux,” she smiled, but it didn’t seem to affect him in the slightest.

“Is that really why you want a wedding? Because I would gladly put on something as simple as a tux if it meant that you’d be down t-”

“No, that’s not the only reason. I’d like a wedding, I think that it’d be nice. It wouldn't even have to be a big one,” she could imagine them on a beach, maybe a small service in their apartment, she wouldn’t even have minded just going to the courthouse and having a nice dinner afterward.

“It’s not like we’d have enough people for a big wedding anyway, we’re always so busy.”

She sat down next to him and stroked his thick brown hair with her fingers, “we could just invite our friends from edenbrook, and my parents, you know how much they love you. We don’t need a bunch of people around to have a wedding.”

“Good, because I don’t want a giant guest list where there are different number tables and- and a full service and a grand ceremony. I just...I just want you.”

She wondered how much of this was total bullshit.

From where she was standing, she didn’t think anyone would approach her. The lake behind them was breathtaking, but the crowd was rather anxious and impatient, they were waiting to sit down and for the ceremony to start.

Some people passed by her, and she picked up on certain things they said, like how “beautiful the church is” or “she picked out the perfect dress, her father was crying because it was so pretty” and her favorite one, “just wait till you see this guy, they are just perfect for each other.”

Perfect.

“I told you, I can’t dance.”

“And I was a fool not to believe you, you’ve stepped on my foot so many times I think it’s bruised,” he teased then laughed when she hit his shoulder.

“I hate you,” she looked up at the dark sky above them and shuddered at the thunder that rumbled, “why are we even doing this?”

“Because dancing in the rain is on my bucket list,” he twirled her around then hurriedly pulled her back in when she started to fumble and stumble.

“Okay, but why right now with me? You seriously expect me to believe that all throughout your life you haven’t had a chance to dance in the rain?” she grimaced as she felt a few drops of water drip into her eye.

“Maybe I was just waiting for the perfect person to share this experience with,” he wrapped his hand around her waist and she chuckled.

“Perfect? Please, I am far from perfect,” they met each other’s gaze and she got butterflies just from seeing that look in his eyes.

“That may be true, but this is perfect,” the rain started to get heavier, their clothes and hair completely soaked long ago, “you and me, here right now, together. It’s perfect.”

Lost in her own thoughts, she didn’t hear the sound of metal and wheels quickly approaching her, only being knocked out of her trance when he called out to her. She turned her head a little too fast, scared that she would be caught, afraid that there would be a giant scene, and that she would lose her chance.

At what exactly, she hadn’t really figured out yet.

“It’s really you, isn’t it?”

Elijah was always so welcoming, she never once felt out of place with him by her side. Even now, despite the circumstances, he still held a small smile on his face as he approached her, dressed nicely in a suit, even his wheelchair had little decorations.

“Hey, Elijah,” She gripped her own arm, unsure if it would be inappropriate to interact with him even more than she already had, “I like the decorations on your wheelchair.”

“Thanks,” he said, “Phoebe and I made them together,” he moved a little in his seat to show off a few hidden decorations. He looked just the same as she had really seen him up close almost a year ago.

“It looks nice! How...how have you been?” She didn’t really know what she was doing. Maybe she was hoping the small talk would be a distraction for the time being, she wasn’t ready to talk about the obvious out in the open just yet.

“I’m doing okay. Phoebe and I moved in together a couple weeks back, it’s going well...” he trailed off with a fond smile on his face.

“I’m happy for you, Elijah. You really deserve it.”

He smiled, “thanks. What have you been up to?”

She winced and tried not to fidget. “Nothing much, really. I visited my parents a few days ago. Everything’s like usual, it’s good.”

He nodded, and just like a wave, tension flooded the air around them.

She refused to look down and meet his eyes, to either see full curiosity, disappointment, or any other mood that would just make her feel sick to her stomach, will have her asking the same question over and over to herself. However, the silence couldn’t stay too long.

“What- why are you here?” He asked in a sympathetic tone.

An older woman was yelling at a worker, wanting more champagne for the bride's suite. She was aggressive, and yet the guests around her weren’t baffled at her behavior in the slightest.

She hated entitlement, hated more when the rich forgot that other people aren’t as fortunate enough as them.

She also hated that he was still staring at her while she was wondering if her own mother would be so stressed to the point of lashing out at others around her.

“How long have they been engaged?” She found herself asking the question as a desperate last attempt to quiet her thoughts of if they were stuck in one place and never seemed to want more.

“6 months,” he responded, knowing what those two little words would do to her, “she’s sweet, she has a good heart, she doesn’t push him.”

Ouch.

“And she makes him happy.”

Another stab of pain.

“Do you ever think that we were...unhappy?” His facial expression went soft when she finally looked him in the eye. He tried to think of all the ways he could word his next sentence carefully, but it was no use; he knew she could see the real answer on his face.

“I think you two...worked well together. I think you enjoyed the company of one another, and maybe you were even in love once-”

Once.

“-but that’s in the past.”

Past.

“Right now, over a hundred people are here to celebrate what’s best for them.”

Them.

It was something unspoken, but she picked up on his hints and nudges, she knew what he was trying to get at. She knew that he was wordlessly telling her that her presence was unwelcome and that it would be for the best if she left.

Why was she here? Why did she think that today would be the day to confess her feelings that never drifted away? Why was she so selfish, and think that her happiness was more important than his?

She heard swift footsteps approach her and Elijah. She slowly turned around, hoping it wouldn’t be the one person who could cause her to break down and fall apart with just a single glance.

“What are you doing here? You weren’t invited, you aren’t supposed to be here!” Keiki lashed out. She was loud, almost yelling at her, and it was causing a scene, something she really didn’t want. Keiki looked like she was about to jump her when Elijah moved in between them, separating them with his wheelchair.

“Relax, Keiki,” He looked back at her with a pointed look, “she was just leaving.”

There was a pause, and she almost believed that yes, she was leaving. That was her cue, no one wanted her here, she wasn’t supposed to be here. Who was she to ruin a wedding? How could she do something so terrible to him

“Move in with me,” he ran his hand over her back, listening closely to her slow breaths.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’d be nice, getting to come back home after a long day of surgery and join you in bed, falling asleep together,” he thought she was already half asleep and couldn’t even register much less comprehend a single word of what he was saying.

He was proven wrong when she raised her head and looked back at him in the dark room, the only source of light from the window that was cracked open just enough to let the cool night air flow in.

“You’re right. I’m doing internal medicine so I don’t get to see you at the hospital as much as I’d like. This would definitely make up for the lost time,” she smirked as he nudged her gently with his leg.

“Definitely,” he laughed softly.

She kissed his chest and smiled up at him, “if I move in, there’s no turning back. I can’t afford to keep switching back and forth.”

He smiled, “I couldn’t think of anywhere else I’d rather want you to be.”

She gave them a curt nod with a tight-lipped smile, her lips quivering in the slightest as she walked backward a few steps before fully turning her back on them, on him.

She walked past the crowd, past the church, past the parking lot, all the way down to the end of the lake. She was away from everything else, but not from her own lingering thoughts.

There was no way she was leaving, she couldn’t allow herself to, no matter how much she wanted to run away and forgot about everything. Even from where she stood, she could hear the beats of the wedding music.

Can’t Help Falling In Love, Elvis Presley.

Tears welled up at the sides of her eyes as she remembered the last time she had heard that song. That was the song he had played from his car as they danced in the rain. It was one of his favourites, she always thought that that song would play as she walked down the aisle towards him. She supposed it was true for him, but only him.

Her feet had already started to move before her mind could even have the chance to make a decision.

There was an elderly couple just walking into the room, and luckily the doorman held the large wooden door open for her. She thanked him and took the grand venue in. On each bench, there was a bouquet of flowers, a white row leading up to the altar. It was packed, and she could only imagine how many people she was about to shock.

She sat in an empty aisle seat in the back, and finally realized that she was just reaching the top of the stairs, kissing her father’s cheek before he gave her over to him.

“Should I cut my hair?” He asked, looking at his hair in the mirror with a slight frown.

“No, I like it the way it is. It’s nice,” she said from the bed, her eyes still on the book in her hands.

“Eh, it’s too long; and it uses way too much gel to make it neat in the mornings. And it gets really messy again when I take my scrub cap off after surgery.”

She came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist, nestling her face against his sides, “well, personally, I really like it, but it is your hair. You know I’ll still love you no matter how your hair is, even if you’re bald.

“If I’m bald this early in life, please leave me. My head does NOT look good bare, trust me.”

“Nope. I’ll still be with you, even if you’re bald and I still have a head full of thick hair. You’re mine forever,” a grin formed on his face and he turned around, planting his lips on hers.

“I better be.”

The once cherished moments only seemed to hurt her more than she already was. Sometimes memories are the worst form of torture, especially when the person who shared those memories is gone.

He looked just like she had imagined. In fact, he hadn’t changed that much. He was dressed in a sharp and expensive-looking tux, his hair gelled and combed perfectly, the only flaw was that his smile didn’t seem to reach his eyes.

He had done everything he told her he would never do, yet it was for another woman.

Swallowing back the growing lump in her throat, she tapped her foot nervously as the minister started to speak.

“We are gathered here today to celebrate-”

“Stop being such a poor sport!”

“You cheated! You know what, it doesn’t matter, because I know the real truth.”

“The truth? Fine, I’ll tell you the damn truth! Bryce Lahela sucks at Mario Kart!”

“You take that back!”

“Throughout their time together, they have realised that their dreams and aspirations are more meaningful through a beautiful combination of mutual love and support.”

“I’m proud of you.”

“It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Are you kidding? You got the first solo surgery of your class! You’ve come so far, Bryce. You study, you practice, heck, you’re at the hospital even more than I am! You deserve this, Bryce, you deserve everything good that you have in your life.”

“Does that include you? Because I still don’t think I deserve that one yet,” he smirked and kissed her forehead.

“As we create this marriage, we create a new bond and a new sense of family.”

“I hope our kids have your eyes.”

“If we’re thinking about children, I have no problem shoving them right back up there if they don’t look exactly like you.”

“Bryce, honey, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I’m just saying. Your eyes, your nose, your smile, I want them to have everything I love about you. Which is every single thing feature and personality trait of yours. Maybe except your sense of style, I think they’d be better off with mine.”

“Hey!”

“Now, before they begin their vows, if anyone can show just cause as to why this couple lawfully cannot be wed together in this holy matrimony,”

“You’re being ridiculous!”

“No, I’m the only one being reasonable! You can’t seriously think that I’m just going to let this go!”

“Where are we going? We’re stuck in the same spot and have been for a long time, I can’t do it anymore!”

“Then don’t,” she croaked out, the quietest any one of them had been that entire conversation.

“Speak now, or forever hold your pe-”

“I think I’m falling in love with you,” she wiped away the tears at the side of her eyes as he held her closer to his chest, “and I’m terrified.”

She pushed her doubts away and stood up, interrupting the silence in the church.

Almost immediately, every single eye was on her, except one pair, the only pair of eyes she wanted to look at her. Gasps rippled all throughout the crowd, one woman even let out a horrified yell, and a man a few rows in front of her scoffed. The commotion was big enough to draw the bride and groom’s attention away from each other.

A surge of warmth flowed through her body as his brown eyes connected to hers.

Bryce’s emotions went in flashes. He was a bit confused at first, as to why their loved ones were making so much noise just as they were about to be married. Then it was anger after realising that it was a result of someone objecting to their wedding. Lastly, it was sadness after he saw who exactly had stopped them.

Maybe it was because he hasn’t seen her since she walked out. Maybe it was because she was ruining his special day. Maybe it was because he knew she had lost her chance years ago, and that even he knew it was too late to turn back time.

Maybe it was because he knew exactly how this situation would turn out. Maybe it was because he was about to have to break her heart one last time.

She took a shuddering breath, then uttered those three little words that could shatter the hearts of everyone in the room. But she ignored the appalled expressions of the crowd, she ignored the angry expression of Keiki, ignored the devastated look on the woman who stood on the very spot she had hoped for so long to stand in.

Instead, she focused on the man at the very end of the altar, desperation and longing in her eyes. Instead, she focused on him, on the smallest quirk at the side of his lips, the smallest chance that he could still provide her with the hope and love that he had once promised so long ago.

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arigatouiris · 4 years

Text

hushed feelings // kuroo tetsuroo x reader

Author’s Note: Alright, normally I’d write something flirty for my favorite boi Tetsu but I’ve been feeling down lately and I really craved for some Soulmate AU so here we have it. Hope ya’ll like this~

Word count: 4376

Pairing: Kuroo Tetsuroo x Depressed! Reader [Soulmate AU]

Warnings: depressive themes, angst, mentions of drugs, abusive households, wow this is dark (fluffy end?)

Ever since Kuroo Tetsuro could remember walking, he had been certain that he had no soulmate.

It wasn’t because he didn’t believe in them, or because he didn’t like the idea of them, Kuroo never really held any malice toward the idea or principle of soulmates—it’s just that unlike the rest of the population, he just couldn’t feel them.

It is said that soulmates can feel each other’s deepest feelings—especially when it got extreme. For instance, extreme joy or sorrow, or anger or jealousy, could be instantly recognized by the other—and it is only when the soulmates touch skin-to-skin for the first time does this ‘stop’ or in other words, sync together. It was perhaps the universe’s way of saying ‘you’re not alone’ or a mockery from the universe saying, ‘you’re not alone, but you’re never going to find them’.

However, for Kuroo, things were different. People usually start feeling their better half’s emotions by the time they’re 10 or 11 years old. Sometimes, it can take up to when a person reaches 15 or 16. Kuroo was currently 17 years old. And not once in his entire life did he feel someone else’s emotions. He wondered if the person had some kind of mental disorder where they can’t process or feel extreme emotions; he wondered if the other person could feel his own emotions—feelings of joy or anger, because he was certain that he had moments when he couldn’t contain himself.

On most days, Kuroo felt absolutely alone—wondering if he was one of the several sad folk that’s born without a soulmate, because he was just meant to dig through the earth by himself.

However, he wasn’t the sort to feel unhappy over something like this. At least, not externally. He’d notice when Yaku would walk into the gym feeling rather obliviously happy or when Kenma just felt lower than usual—and he’d think of how each of these people have someone waiting for them, to meet one day. On most days, he just felt anger—over everything, wondering if this entire soulmate fiasco was unfair; not allowing people to meet whoever they wanted, fall in love with no strings attached. The complications of the universe angered him, but the helplessness made it worse.

Walking into practice one evening, he noticed his team huddled over the corner—around something. There were a bunch of girls and a crying Yamamoto, standing in the distance. Kuroo blinked before walking over there, curious as to what had occurred.

He saw you, laying there, unconscious.

“What—” Kuroo’s face contorted into that of extreme panic, then turning to Yamamoto, he waited, “—happened?

“I swear! I didn’t see her! It was as if she wasn’t even there! I would never spike on a girl on purpose!”

That much is true, Kuroo thought before looking at you, peacefully out of it, before sighing and picking you up. As captain, and even if this had never happened before, he had to take you to the nurse. What were you doing in the gym all alone? And why hadn’t anyone noticed you?

Shooting Kenma a look, the dyed haired boy nodded once before ushering Yamamoto out of the way. Kuroo now focused entirely on you, and rushed to the nurse. You were breathing (and you looked like you were asleep, strange as it was). Kuroo reached the nurse’s office rather quickly, since it was after school hours. Upon taking a mere glance at you, the nurse cringed before slapping her own forehead.

Kuroo blinked.

“Does she come here often?” He asked, smirking.

“You won’t believe it,” the nurse pointed to the lone bed and Kuroo followed, “It’s like she lives here.”

Kuroo chuckled before noticing you slowly waking up, wanting to sit this down and ask what you were doing in the gym in the first place. Apart from giving Yamamoto a scare for his life, Kuroo thought, unaware of the smirk sitting on his face.

“The face you’re making is creepy, senpai.”

Kuroo blinked before noticing you, staring at him, practically emotionlessly. Smirking, Kuroo leaned forward before blinking at you, filtering the questions in his head.

“What were you doing in the gym, kouhai-chan? Yamamoto’s never going to live down hitting you with the ball—”

“I followed a cat, is all.”

It was strange, Kuroo thought, of how casual your words were. It was as if you made no effort to communicate, your eyes were fixed at him and he was sure that he had your attention, but it wasn’t in any other way apart from when you’re reading a book or crossing the road. Kuroo noticed the lack of movement on your eyebrows, of how... emotionless you presented yourself as. It was honestly...

...really creepy.

“Uh,” He had to get back to practice. “I’ll make sure that the cat is fine.”

“I’m sorry for disrupting practice,” Kuroo paused before looking at you again, “I might not look it, but I mean it.”

You were right, you did not look like you meant it. But you were looking straight into his eyes that he couldn’t look away and his heart was screaming that you meant what you said. Shooting you a grin, Kuroo raised a thumb up to you, to which you merely just blinked—and walked out of the room.

A second later, he felt it; Kuroo paused, his eyes widening a tad bit slowly and his pace slowed accordingly. A sadness that crept into his system, almost as if it was too shy to come to him entirely. It was the sort of sadness that you knew you were going to feel eventually, but chose not to be entirely ready for its arrival. It felt as if he was out of breath at that second, feeling for the first time what his soulmate was feeling, a sadness that was scared to let him know that they were there. A hand shot to his chest, where the emotions felt concentrated most, and he stood there, confused the whole time.

“What the...”

Why now after so many years? And why did it feel like it wasn’t the first time? Why did Kuroo feel like he had felt what this person was feeling for years, but had not recognized it? Why did it feel so familiar yet alien?

You walked out of the nurse’s room and saw him there, frozen. You bit your lower lip before rushing out, trying to suppress whatever it was that you were feeling at least until you got home.

“I felt my soulmate’s emotions for the first time today!” Kuroo said, grinning hopelessly before noticing Yaku roll his eyes.

“Oh! I thought you didn’t have a soulmate?” Lev asked, genuinely surprised.

“Shut it.” Kuroo snapped, grimly.

“What were they feeling?” Kenma was the one to ask, knocking Kuroo out of his stupor.

“It was the weirdest sort of sadness I’ve ever felt in my life. As if she saw a dress she couldn’t buy and was crying for it from outside the window.”

“That actually sounds cute.” Yaku mused, blinking.

Scoffing, the scheming captain had had enough of the soulmate talk—he was certain that if he started to feel them now, then it was only about time before he got to actually feel more of what they were feeling; continuing with practice, the entire team couldn’t even tell if Kuroo was distracted, yet he was. All he could think about was how familiar it felt to have felt this person’s emotions for the first time. It was unnatural.

While leaving, Kenma and Kuroo waved goodbye to the rest of the team. Kuroo suggested they go get something to eat first, but Kenma had other things to do—which made the taller male roll his eyes at the mere thought.

“Ah,” Kuroo said, his hand flying to where his heart was located, “There it is again, Kenma.”

“There what is?”

“That weird sadness,” Kuroo mused, “It’s like she’s calling out to me! I mean, after all these years of not feeling anything, I’ve been feeling latently sad all evening today. Maybe she just wants a hug.”

“You don’t know who this person is, Kuroo. Give it a break.”

Kuroo wanted to scoff at his friend but paused when he actually felt the feeling intensify. He felt nauseous suddenly, and the intense need to cry—scream, if it would help. It was as if someone was stepping on his heart and all he wanted to do was cry—he could only wonder what his soulmate was actually feeling at that second. Shaking his heart, he attempted to cover it up for there was nothing he could do but ponder over what could have caused this sudden burst of sadness, yet, there was a part of him that began to think of why now—and not before?

A moment later, Kuroo noticed you a bit ahead, and decided to speak to you to take his mind off the growing ache in his chest. Kenma wanted no part of Kuroo’s plan, so he stuck to playing his game as Kuroo rushed over and approached you. Running over to you, (who was considerably shorter when compared to his giant stature), Kuroo tapped your shoulder and had you turn around only to have his breath stuck in his throat as tears poured out of your eyes like dew drops off a fresh leaf.

“S-Senpai?”

He paused, feeling the pain in his chest grow. Kuroo knew that he could tell with one glance, one look, one simple instant. It was your eyes. Despite the tears streaming down your face, they were still dark-rimmed, haunted, and sad. Most of all though, they were familiar. The fact that you had been a stranger up until that point changed nothing at all. He'd spent summers and winters picturing those same eyes—happy, angry, scared, lost, confused—staring back at him. He would have known them anywhere.

“It’s you.”

You quickly wiped your tears away and tried to bolt out of there, but Kuroo grabbed your wrist and halted you to the ground. Kenma noticed what was happening a few feet ahead but paused in his steps, seeing the stern look on his friend’s face. The girl beside him was crying, and something told him that it had a lot to do with how Kuroo had been feeling all evening.

“I know it’s you—”

“Let go of me, you don’t know what you’re—”

“Hey,”

He didn’t know why he was pleading. He had felt her existence just that day, it felt too unreal to even fight for. But, seeing her cry turned his insides around. There was something strange going on, and he really, really wanted to know what it was.

“Why does this... Why does this feel—”

“I don’t want any part of this, senpai. I don’t—”

Kuroo raised his eyebrows, “Wait, you don’t want a soulmate?”

You looked up at the black haired male before frowning, “No. No, I don’t want a soulmate. I’ve never wanted a soulmate! That’s why I’ve been taking these suppressants to—”

Your eyes widened and you slapped your mouth shut. Kuroo’s grip on your arm loosened.

“Did you... Did you know it was me?”

You sniffed before looking away from him. Nodding once, you hoped to all hell that he would drop it.

“How long?”

“Why does it matter—”

“For how long have you known, kouhai-chan?”

You’ve never heard him speak so callously before, but he had lost the amount of patience he had within him.

You could now feel his anger. The void in his chest was beginning to fill with anger. Quiet, defeated anger that guaranteed him the right to his hurt, that believed no one could possibly understand that hurt—no one, except you—who was giving it to him. You felt another burst of sorrow hit the back of your throat, but you were sure as hell not going to lose it in front of him.

“I...” You were afraid of doing a great many things but, “I knew since a few days.”

What you were most afraid of was lying. And here you had told the biggest lie that could potentially destroy something before it even began. With that, Kuroo let go of your hand and walked away, you were unsure if he was ignoring you or if he was hurt, but you could feel what he was feeling—and it wasn’t pleasant. You wanted to stop him and explain, but you knew that there was no point to it. Biting your lower lip, you walked home, uninterrupted.

“What did she say?” Kenma asked, staring at his friend’s face.

Kuroo wasn’t sullen, he was angry. And Kenma noticed it right away. Kuroo’s anger wasn’t loud, it was quiet, seething and potentially could destroy his mental health more than any other emotion. Kuroo’s anger was liquid fire, soothing to look at yet scorching hot.

“It’s nothing.”

Kenma knew it wasn’t nothing, but there was no way he’d get his friend to talk about it right away. This was the sort of thing that would take time, yet he wondered what you had done that could have driven him to the edge like this.

When you reached home, there was no one there. No one would be, your parents were always out—it was unusual if they were home. Your elder brother was in college in the States, and here you were—alone, paranoid and heartbroken. Your mother had been entirely against the idea of soulmates, calling it primitive and restricting, and while you could see her point, it was always a matter of personal interest for you. You always wondered who your soulmate was, you always wondered what it would be like to meet your significant other, someone you could reach so emotionally.

Your mother had not met her soulmate. Your parents were not soulmates to begin with, yet there you were. A ‘happy’ family, or so you’d like to call it. Your mother had been giving you suppressants ever since you were young, so as to avoid letting your soulmate feel whatever it was that you were feeling; however, like the doctor had warned, the pills had an adverse effect on your mental wellbeing. On most days, you felt absolutely nothing. On most days, you realized that you had to carry this feeling around, pocketing it with you because normal life went on—regardless of how broken you felt. The pills were slowly eating away your mind yet because you couldn’t say a word in edgewise with your mother, you strove along, like a puppet, doing as she demands because it was the same case with your brother but he luckily got away.

At heart, you have always been a coper; or that’s what you called yourself secretly. You've mostly been able to walk around with your wounds safely hidden, and you've always stored up your deep depressive episodes for the weeks off when there was time to have an abbreviated version of a complete breakdown. But in the end, you'd be able to get up and on with it, could always do what little must be done to scratch by.

It was not until a few months ago did things start to change.

You’d always feel what your soulmate was feeling. Episodes of absolute elation and frustration sometimes—this person had their shit together. You felt it for the first time when you were 9 years old, a foreboding sorrow that you could relate to losing a parent or a pet; you wondered if this person lost someone special to them at such a young age, or if they were young at all—you’d never know. After that, you mostly felt hesitance and the need to feel happy again directed from them; you slowly felt this person begin to heal, and feel joy, learn how to deal with their own emotions and you wondered if they ever thought of the possibility of you somewhere.

You kept your soulmate’s emotions to yourself because they were special to you. Despite what your mother said, despite what you were asked to believe, your heart yearned for someone to hold you, tell you that it was okay, to give you space to be yourself—yet, nowadays, it felt like you were asking for too much.

A few months ago, you saw Kuroo Tetsuroo for the first time. He was laughing at his friend in the corridor and the joy you felt was in sync with his—there was no doubt about it. He was your soulmate.

You didn’t want to be a stalker, yet you couldn’t avoid trying to see what he was doing, trying to learn what he was like, what his hobbies were—and when you discovered that he was the captain of the Volleyball team in your school, also the best friend of one of your classmates, you were even more curious.

You wondered if he ever felt your absence; and if he could ever feel your yearning, he wondered if it could mean anything.

That day, you were at the gym not because you followed a cat. It was simply because you wanted to see him. It was no crush, you weren’t that type of schoolgirl, you merely wanted to see what he played like—having been afraid all along to witness him in action. However, you weren’t noticed by anyone and perhaps that wasn’t a good thing at all since the ball hit you in the back of your head and sent you to the ground.

That was how you met your soulmate. And singlehandedly destroyed any prospect of being with him or learning more about him.

As days passed, you felt Kuroo’s rage and confusion—the simple minded betrayal that anyone would feel after an episode like that had occurred. You wouldn’t stop taking the supplements, and your heart was too scared to take a risk to go against what your mother had ordered you to do. Yet, feeling his emotions day in and day were was starting to exhaust you, and the growing guilt left you breathless everyday.

You turned to the side in the corridor, bumping into someone. You always hid when trying to take the supplements, but this was unexpected. In front of you was your classmate, Kenma, who was also Kuroo’s best friend. Your eyes widened and you knew he saw the pills in your hand.

“Are those supplements?”

You were quiet, hands shaking, unable to say a word.

“Why are you doing that?”

I can’t not, you thought, but you knew you couldn’t say.

“You’re hurting him.”

Tears filled your eyes, and you nodded because you knew. You knew how much you were hurting him, you didn’t need someone to come and tell you to your face that what you were doing was wrong.

“I know...” You said, whispering. Kenma blinked.

“I know I’m hurting him, but I can’t not do this.”

“What do you mean? Of course you can. Just...” Kenma placed a hand at the back of his neck, “Just pretend that you’re taking them if someone’s making you.”

The thought of lying to your mother did cross your mind, but you weren’t sure. You were scared that she would catch you, you were scared that she would find out and punish you. You were technically scared of all the hypotheticals because the idea scared you to your very core.

“You can’t be scared all the time,” His voice was soft, like a lullaby, “If you really want this, you should take it.”

You gasped, but biting your lip and clutching the box of pills harder. You looked at Kenma once and nodded, before walking away briskly. As you passed the dry waste bin, you threw the box of pills inside and headed to class.

Kuroo woke up with tears in his eyes.

His eyes then widened before he wiped them away, scrunching his eyebrows as he tried to think of whether he had a nightmare. He instantly thought of you, because there was no other explanation. Did she forget to take her pills? He thought, but his heart was wrenching at the thought of what you were feeling right then.

Is this why you were taking the pills? Because if you didn’t, all you felt was sadness.

He headed to school with Kenma, quiet the entire way. It was very much unlike him, Kuroo wasn’t used to being so out of character. The feeling of heaviness grew in his chest, but he felt bits and of other emotions as well. Panic, anxiety, and fear—what the hell was going on with your mind?

“Oi, Kenma,” Kuroo called out just as they reached school. “Is she in your class?”

Kenma nodded. “Name’s (l/n) (y/n).”

What the hell are you feeling? Kuroo almost blacked out with how heavy your emotions were.

“Is it too much?”

Kuroo didn’t know how to answer that question. He stayed quiet, only intended to meet with you during lunch, force you to talk—because this was driving him insane. He only wondered how the hell you were living all these years, by yourself, bottling all of this deep-rooted heaviness inside. He felt angry for not being called in on this, because even if he wasn’t sure if he could have helped, Kuroo was angry because he was not given a chance.

During lunch, he noticed you walk out of class but he didn’t give you a second to explain as he guided you up to the roof. There were others there, but Kuroo always knew to find a spot that no one else could see.

You stared at him with wide eyes and he felt the growing anxiety bottle in your chest. He sighed.

“(l/n)-chan,” He said, rubbing the back of his neck, “What’s going on? You didn’t take those—”

“I stopped.”

He blinked, “How come?”

“I... I'm living under water, senpai. Everything seems slow and far away. I know there's a world up there, a sunlit quick world where time runs like dry sand through an hourglass, but down here, where I am, air and sound and time and feeling are thick and dense,”

He didn’t understand you. You then showed him the pills and continued,

“My parents are not soulmates. My mother started giving me these pills ever since I felt the first emotion from your end. Ever since I knew you were there, living and breathing and existing. I... If it weren’t for your friend, I...”

“That’s why I barely felt anything from you. You were... Damn, that’s...” He didn’t know what to say.

Leaning down to your stature, Kuroo’s face was inches away from yours. You were staring at him with wide eyes, as you watched him smirk slowly, or maybe that was how he smiled—whatever it was, it was making you feel warm inside.

“Let’s try to get better, then, yeah?”

“What?”

He hummed before leaning back and standing straight again, “From the looks of it, you’re feeling this way because you’ve lived your whole life unable to feel at all. Come to a few of my games, my team’s gonna show you an array of colorful emotions. Pick whatever you want.”

You didn’t know if he was joking, “Kuroo-senpai—”

“I’m not joking, (l/n)-chan. Yeah, I get that we’re soulmates, but I want to get to know you. And to do that, we need to take this away—” He pressed your nose and chuckled, “—and get to know me while we do this.”

“I... I don’t—”

“And someday, we’ll be what we have to be. It’s sad about your parents, but if they’re happy, then it’s great. I won’t say what your mother did was right or wrong, but you have to decide what you want to do.”

You took a deep breath.

“Kuroo-san,” He looked at you, earnestly, yet there was a hint of mischief in those eyes, “Someday, we’ll run into each other again, I know it. Maybe I’ll be older and smarter and just plain better. If that happens, that’s when I’ll deserve you. But now, at this moment, you can’t hook your boat to mine, because I’m liable to sink us both.”

Kuroo gave you a soft smile before nodding. Inching forward, he kissed you squarely on the forehead and ruffled your hair.

“Remember, I’ll feel what you feel, (l/n)-chan!”

You smiled softly to yourself.

Kuroo woke up that morning, feeling nothing but pure satisfaction. A smile streaked across his lips when he thought of you—having been years since he had seen you, and noticed how well you were doing. He appreciated your strong desire to not keep in touch, and that left him wondering what you were doing and if you were still in Tokyo. Yawning, Kuroo stepped out of his house, fully intending to take out the trash that one Sunday morning.

Kuroo had texted him saying he had plans—he had met his soulmate last winter, and apparently the two of them were going to some gaming thing.

Kuroo was happy, generally speaking. Sure, he missed the touch of a person on odd days, unable to find it in him to see anyone romantically, knowing you existed. He didn’t blame you—he wished well for you, wanting to give the universe a chance to scheme something this time around. As he was putting the trash in the bin, scratching the back of his bed head, Kuroo felt a sudden jolt of... what was this feeling? The feeling you get when you’re in a rollercoaster?

Is she in a theme park somewhere? He thought before turning around, and freezing.

There you were, standing in front of him, in the cold winter air of Tokyo, wrapped up in a thousand sweaters. Your face was a tad bit red, and your smile was a tad bit long. Kuroo felt warmth wash over his features. Not a word. No word.

“Kuroo-senpai—”

He rushed toward you, feeling nothing but joy. Wrapping his arms around you, Kuroo breathed into your scent. Your hair tickled his chin and he felt your hands crawl to his back.

“I don’t normally hug strangers,” Kuroo teased, “But I’ll make an exception for you.”

“I’m sorry I took so long.”

He chuckled. “I barely felt the time go by—”

“I felt your longing for me, please don’t lie, senpai.”

He definitely couldn’t wait to get to know you.

#kuroo tetsuroo #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuroo x reader #reader insert #haikyuu!!#nekoma #nekoma x reader #kenma koizume #tetsuro kuro #kuroo fluff #kuroo tetsuro headcanons #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo tetsuro imagine #haikyuu x reader #yamamoto taketora #yaku

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entity9silvergen · 4 years

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Mosaic (Disenchantment Fanfiction)

Summary: We are just mosaics of everyone we love and that mosaic shows everyone we love how beautiful they are. Bean doesn’t think she can love like everyone else but maybe that’s okay.

Fandom: Disenchantment

Word Count: 2K

Characters: Bean

Relationships: Bean/ Mora, Mentioned Bean & Everyone, Mentioned Odval/ Sorcerio, Mentioned Zog/ Oona, Mentioned Zog/ Dagmar

Warnings: Internalized arophobia, first person pov, some self-deprecation, sex mention, drug mention, mention of interspecies relationships in fantasy setting

Other Tags: F/F, Mentioned F/F QPR, Reflection/ Self-Reflection/ Internal Thoughts, No Dialogue, Queerplatonic, Aromantic Character, Aromantic Homosexual Character, Arospec Character, Queer Themes, Unreliable Narrarator, S3E6, Oneshot, AroWriMo 2021

Author’s Note: My friend sent me the line “I am a mosaic of everyone I’ve ever loved” about twenty minutes after I watched “Final Splash.” I’m working on the prompt for Week 2 of AroWriMo rn but I had to drop everything and write a short fic about this. Again, I didn’t really use the prompt but it kind of fits with week 1’s prompt romo/loveless & future.

I’m headcanonnoning Bean as aro or demiro/ greyro. I think in the show it was implied she never experienced romantic attraction prior to meeting Mora because she likes women and I don’t want to erase that in any way but Bean still gives off a big aromantic bisexual homo(queer)platonic vibe.

_____________________

My name is Princess Tiabeanie of Dreamland and I’ve never loved anyone.

I mean, I love my dad and my friends and all that but I’ve never loved loved anyone. Is that weird to say? That makes it sound like I don’t really love my dad and Elfo and Luci and everyone. I probably shouldn’t say that then because I actually love them a lot. They’re my everything.

One time, I was walking down Elf-Ally and this elf was sitting on the side of the road with some chalk. I feel like elves would really like chalk but I’ve never seen any of them use it, not even Arto, except this guy. I’d never seen anything like it before so I asked what he was doing and he said he was making this mosaic to show his love for this other elf he liked. I didn’t really understand it so he explained it to me like this: we are just mosaics of everyone we love and that mosaic shows everyone we love how beautiful they are.

I still didn’t get it so I just laughed at him and he got kind of upset and threw a piece of chalk at me. It didn’t really hurt but Luci was with me and the elf started throwing stuff at him and you know how Luci gets when he hits his nose so we left. I couldn’t really forget what that elf said though.

You see, a mosaic is a mix of a bunch of little pieces taken from different things that all come together to make one thing. There’s this mosaic at the church and it’s pretty freaking ugly but the mosaic this elf was making was just so beautiful. He used so many colors and he drew all these little pictures and hid these words I didn’t understand in them. I’d expect it to be all crude and gross like those scribbly pictures Derek would draw when he was younger that Oona pretended to love but it all came together so well. It didn’t even look like separate pieces. It was just one.

I couldn’t stop thinking about it. The influences of countless parts of my life, weaving together into an insanely complex mesh- That felt like me. I always felt like something was broken in me but maybe I’m just a mosaic.

I think my dad made me who I am the most. Even if he wasn’t really present most of my life. Sure, we don’t see eye to eye sometimes but I think we’re better because of that. He made me strong. His actions guided me into becoming the woman I am today. He taught me how to keep fighting. Literally and figuratively. He taught me to keep my head up and he taught me how to stab people. It’s pretty cool. I remember this one time as a kid he took me out to the courtyard, stole this guy’s knife, and taught me how to use it. I think I still have the knife actually. I don’t stab people with it anymore though.

(I hope he’s okay. He hasn’t been the same in awhile.)

My mom… Well, I don’t really love her anymore but I did for a long time. She was… How do I put it? A constant in my life. Even though she wasn’t there. What I felt towards her, it kept me together for a long time. When I had nothing to fall back on, I always had her memory. Until she tried to take over Dreamland, obviously. Now I just say she gave me my love for alcohol and that’s pretty sweet too.

(I still miss her. I bet she’s dead.)

You know those pictures where the guy has an angel and demon on his shoulders telling him what to do? That’s Elfo and Luci, and it’s literal for Luci. And maybe for Elfo? He did go to heaven that one time. It can be kind of annoying to hear them bickering all the time, especially since they almost never want the same thing, but I wouldn’t trade them for anything. Elfo keeps me safe and Luci pushes me to be more than I am. They make life fun. Fuller. Less lonely.

(I’m scared they might leave someday. I wouldn’t blame them.)

I don’t really like Derek but I still love him. Maybe a little less since he tried to burn me at the stake. Maybe a little more since he chickened out at the last second. And a little less because he still went through with it. And maybe a little more since it was an accident. We have a complicated relationship but he’s still my little brother, as weird as he is. He reminds me of what I have to fight for, if that makes sense. I don’t really see him as the future of Dreamland or anything but he’s still a little kid and I can’t really help but have a soft spot for him. Don’t tell him I said that.

(I wonder if he’ll keep me around when he’s king. I’d be lying if I said I was surprised.)

The same goes for Oona. I never liked her but I think I love her. Especially after she tried to save me from my mom. And since she became an epic pirate. She’s awesome. She’s the mom I always wished I had except she was actually there the whole time and I didn’t realize it. I’m happy with how things turned out though. I don’t regret it. Plus she’s got great taste in drugs. I still steal them sometimes.

(I don’t know if she loves me. Maybe she did once but not anymore.)

I kind of hate Odval and Sorcerio in a weird way where I like them at the same time. They’re not really family but always been there. Like they’re kind of like second dads to me. Second dads whose the sex lives I know way too much about. My gay polyamorous uncles? But they kind of care under all that court properness and tradition nonsense so they’ve kind of wormed their way into my heart. They’ve always made my life difficult but I don’t think I would be myself if I wasn’t challenged so much.

(I think they’d rather have me gone. They don’t hide it every well but I can pretend.)

I’m going to be honest, I was really bummed when Pendergast died. We were kind of the same age and he hung around the castle for most of my life. And my dad trusted him so we actually did stuff together sometimes. A lot of adventures that never really went anywhere. He could be kind of a stick in the mud but he never really minded that I’m a girl and let me tag along on crusades and helped me get better with weapons and stuff. And Pendergast was weirdly loyal to Dreamland, even after Dad forked his eye out. Or was it spooned? I don’t remember. Some kind of eating utensil. I wasn’t there when it happened. But it was nice knowing I could trust him. He could be kind of fun though when he was off-duty. Total lightweight though. He threw up on one of those little guys who carries dad’s cape once.

(I wish I’d known him better. I really miss him but I can’t tell anyone since Dad gets set off by anything that even reminds him of the guy.)

Who else is there? That’s right, Mertz and Turbish. Turbish and Mertz. Two peas in a pod. Plus Mrs. Mertz. Don’t get me wrong, they are idiots. Totally incompentant. It’s a wonder they’re still alive. But they’re sweet. And they try. They’re not good at anything but they try. Sometimes I don’t want to try but they tell me I always can.

(I’m waiting for the day they realize they could have a better life. It’ll be weird not having them around the palace.)

I even kind of like Merkimer. As a pig, not a human. God, he was an awful human but he’s a funny little pig. He lets Luci ride on his back sometimes. Both of them like it way more than either of them will ever admit. It’s cute. I think they’re friends. If they’re not, Elfo and I will start plotting until they are. Or maybe not. A Luci-Merkimer friendship might be too much for Dreamland to handle. They’re kind of a lot, even on their own. Merkimer always kind of had a big head and it only got bigger when he accepted his new life. It’s actually kind of inspiring how happy he is now.

(I don’t want him to change but he already has. It makes me sad sometimes.)

And Bunty. Oh, Bunty. And Stan! The world doesn’t really deserve Bunty. Stan does though. I think they’re the ones who taught me what real love is. Bunty always showed me love as a kid, she was like the second mom I never had but actually did have because Oona was there. But she gave me something neither Oona or Dagmar could. I didn’t really understand it until I saw her and Stan and their family together. I still don’t. They’re really sweet.

(I’d give them everything. I know they just see me as some spoiled princess though.)

I want what those two have. Or what Odval and Sorcerio have. What my dad had with Dagmar or Oona. What Elfo’s had, and Luci’s had, and Derek’s had, and the knights have had. It feels like everyone’s had that kind of deep love at some point except me. I didn’t even realize until I was talking to Mora.

I’ve had the chance to have it. Merkimer, that brother of his I accidentally killed, that one time Pendergast made a pass at me, that Steamland guy… I don’t think any of it really would’ve worked out though. I’ve had a lot of things with guys and there’s been kissing and touching and I’ve always enjoyed it but I think I always knew it would never go anywhere. That it will never go anywhere. And I can’t even blame my dad because it’s all me. It’s always been me. And I’m okay with that? Maybe? I don’t think so but I’m not really good at understanding my feelings. It’s just another thing on the pile of things I won’t work through.

I think I understood what I had with Mora though. It wasn’t… romantic but it felt like it almost was. We just… clicked. It felt right. She was tough and funny and she didn’t hold anything back. She followed her dreams and didn’t let the world get her down. That one night we had together, I felt like we were alone in the world.

Mora gave me the ocean and the stars.

She was beautiful. Maybe that’s what was missing? None of the guys I ever screwed around with were beautiful. Not like Mora was. Not like a woman can be. I really felt like this was it but there was still that disconnect. Like something was there but not quite. Like something was missing. I don’t know what it was.

But then she just left. I had that dream and I just felt so happy. I’d never felt happiness like that. And I never felt pain like the pain I felt when I woke up and the necklace was gone. I definitely would’ve cried if Elfo wasn’t there. I might’ve actually cried a little bit. It’s kind of hard to hear anything when Elfo’s sobbing. Some of those tears might have been mine.

Did I love her? I don’t think so. Not like Elfo loved that boat. It wasn’t romantic. But it was real. It gives me hope. I don’t think I’m capable of the same kind of love everyone else seems capable of and that’s not even a slight at me. It’s just reality. But what I had with Mora, however brief and imagined it was, tells me that’s okay. I don’t need the kind of love everyone else has. Not when I have so many others in my life.

Still, I hope I see her again, even for a second, just to feel that kind of happiness again.

I think that’s what that elf meant when he said we are just mosaics of everyone we love and that mosaic shows everyone we love how beautiful they are. Mora was beautiful and she didn’t see it but maybe she would if she saw how I looked at her.

Stars and the ocean, I’ll never forget them. They’ll be a part of my mosaic forever.

Other AroWriMo Fics By Me, Posted on Ao3, Posted on FFN

#fanfiction #fanfic #arowrimo #aromantic writing month #week 1 #i am doing another one #oneshot #disenchantment #disenchanted season 3 #disenchanted netflix #disenchanted bean #disenchanted mora #i don't know why the tags are wrong #aromantic #aspec #aromantic allosexual character #queer themes

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