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the-sprog · 7 months ago

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Thinking about Hakuba just reaching his limit. He realizes that everyone involved in trying to catch KID has been a bad detective, because everyone (him included. ESPECIALLY him) seems to be obsessed with figuring out the "who?" that they've never stopped to question "why?"

When he confronts Inspector Nakamori he gets told that of course they've investigated his reasonings! That good for nothing thief is just greedy/an adrenaline junkie/does it for the thrill/to humiliate the police/etc.

But Hakuba knows this is not the same Kaito KID as when Inspector Nakamori was first assigned to the case.

He's missing something. And he doesn't know what.

It drives him up the wall. He tries figuring it out at the next few heists, but he comes up with nothing. There's no more clues/information to add to those he already had.

So he does the only logical thing.

Trap everyone involved in catching KID in a room that's ventilated as little as possible and release various pallets of truth serum in gas form. Y'know. Like a reasonable person.

Inspector Nakamori, Conan, Hakuba, and Ran (chaperoning) get caught alongside KID and get a lungful dose of truth serum.

Now, before anyone says anything, I know truth serum isn't an actual thing. The way that it's logicked to work is that it lowers inhibitions, loosens your lips basically, and makes you more susceptible to speaking before you can think about it. But of course, it doesn't actually mean people are forced to answer questions or to tell the truth.

But Hakuba is at the end of his wits.

Gonna write a snippet hold on (future Sprog speaking: this ended up being a full-on one shot. So here's the AO3 link if you want to read there)

"Taking a page out of my book, detective-san?" KID asks, the same cocksure smile ever present on his face. It annoys Hakuba. It always has. It's the same expression for every occasion, no matter what KID is saying or doing.

As long as he's not being someone else.

"It's not knockout gas," Hakuba says. He doesn't yet feel like the words are being ripped out of his mouth, but that's to be expected. He's been preparing for this confrontation. "It's truth serum."

From the corner of his vision he sees Edogawa-kun flinch. He would've given it more attention if he had any to spare.

Kaito KID tilts his head and hums. Hakuba can't see it due to the shadow from KID's hat, but he's sure KID is looking him straight in the eyes.

"Saguru-kun?" Inspector Nakamori is the first to break the silence. "If this is about-"

"Why?" It's as much of a response for the inspector as it is a question directed towards the thief himself. "I've never asked myself that question, when it comes to you. A gross oversight, a mistake unbecoming of someone calling himself a detective."

KID's smile doesn't falter, not that Hakuba expected it to. But the fact he hasn't up and left tells him he at least got the thief curious.

"I've been so caught up in trying to unmask you, that I didn't stop to think about why you do it."

"Saguru-kun-"

"I know what you said, Inspector. But your observations are at least 9 years too old. They don't hold up to the current Kaito KID."

Some silence. To his side, Hakuba can faintly hear Edogawa-kun hyperventilating while Mouri-san tries to calm him down to no success. Edogawa-kun wasn't listening to her, too intent on following the conversation.

And then Inspector Nakamori speaks. "You think this is a copycat? That all this time we've been following a fake?"

"I believe we've been following a legacy," Hakuba answers. "Either that, or something happened during his hiatus that made him change his Modus Operandi."

"My, my, detective-san. I'm flattered to know I spend so much time living in your head," KID gets up. "Well, it's been fun to hear your theories, but I think we should cut this visit short, don't you? I believe the curtain call has been way overdue," he says.

"If you leave you have no way of knowing how long the serum will stay in your system," Hakuba stops him. He can't lose Kaito KID's attention now. "And the rest of the gas that's been stagnating in this room will be released to the audience outside these doors."

That seems to do the trick. "Detective-san! I didn't expect you to be the first one to crack!"

"I want to know why you do it. No one else seems to want to focus on that question."

"I did," comes a voice from his right. Edogawa-kun slaps his hands over his mouth as soon as he registers that the words have left his brain faster than he could control.

"Conan-kun?" Mouri-san asks. She's crouched to be eye level with the kid, but Edogawa-kun's eyes are squeezed shut.

"My littlest critic has once again bested everyone else in this room, hasn't he?" KID chuckles. "Bravo, oh great detective!" He claps his hands. "Bravo!"

Hakuba gets his eyes to focus back on the thief. "So Edogawa-kun noticed something we didn't."

"And neglected to share with the class, it seems." KID shakes his head mockingly. "For shame, great detective. For shame. I thought you were all for truth and justice."

Edogawa-kun opens his eyes enough to glare at Kaito KID, which only succeedes in making the thief's smile sharper.

The mocking tone in KID's voice makes Mouri-san snap her attention on him, glare equally as present on her face. "He's just a child, you perverted thief." Her eyes widen in shock as she realizes what she said.

Kaito KID raises his hands in front of him. "I had to make sure you knew the truth!"

"There were a million other ways you could've done that!"

"Oh, but none would've bothered detective-kun as much as messing with you, now would they?" His smile doesn't falter even as Mouri-san's (and Edogawa-kun's) glare gets more intense.

"He's misdirecting us!" Edogawa-kun points out.

"But you know why he does it."

"The information you need is all there. What kind of two cents detective are you that you can't figure it out on your own?"

"Conan-kun!"

"Ah! Sorry, sorry, Hakuba-niisan! I didn't mean it- that's a lie. I did mean it." He groans when he finishes. "Stupid truth gas!"

"That's very rude, Conan-kun."

"If the child figured it out so easily, then he has a point in calling us out," Inspector Nakamori says.

"He's the highlight of my heists, that's for sure." KID looks caught off guard by his own admission.

He's lowering his guard. Or he's getting nervous.

"Answer the question, KID," Hakuba tries once more.

"You could ask the great detective. He seems to have a deduction ready."

"I want to hear it from you."

"I have a general idea of what could be going on based on observations of the heists I've attended." If anyone is surprised by Edogawa-kun's eloquence, no one says. "I lack a lot of background information, mainly on everything regarding before Kaito KID's hiatus -which my dad refuses to collaborate with me on because he says I have to figure it out myself. Fair, but rude. It's not like I have access to police records of the time." Everyone is staring at him, but Edogawa-kun seems to not have noticed. Or the drug is taking more effect than expected and he truly can't control himself. "And what I have isn't enough to account for all incognitas, and it would be unbecoming of a detective to offer up an incomplete explanation." He finally takes some time to breathe.

Which probably didn't help, considering their air was probably still extremely contaminated.

"And that's why Conan-kun is my favorite critic."

Inspector Nakamori shakes himself out of his stupor and addresses the room. "What's it matter?! He's a thief! A criminal! He should be behind bars, and that's all we need to know!"

Edogawa-kun frowns and answers the rhetorical question before Hakuba himself can. "Establishing a motive is an important step in investigating any criminal offence. It can help discern how and who. In homicide cases, it can make the difference between a premeditated murder and manslaughter."

Mouri-san's eyes haven't left Edogawa-kun's face since the little detective entered the conversation. Hakuba can't discern what she's thinking, but he can tell she's wearing the same face Edogawa-kun has when he's gathering and putting together the clues to a particularly complex trick.

"This is different, kid," inspector Nakamori says condescendingly (his tone isn't lost on Edogawa-kun, judging by how his face contorts). "This is just thievery."

"To neglect any piece during the investigation of a case, would mean to be willing to come to an incorrect or incomplete conclusion," Edogawa-kun answers. "It would mean not caring about the truth behind it."

At this point, Hakuba is just a witnessing, partially slack jawed, how Edogawa-kun goes toe to toe with the Inspector. Kaito KID looks to be enjoying the display, revelling in the chaos caused by it.

"Share it with us, then," he tells Edogawa-kun. "Let's combine our information."

Edogawa-kun takes a sharp breath and shakes his head, jaw and fists clenched tightly.

They were all so focused on Edogawa-kun that none of them notice Kaito KID making his way towards them.

"That's enough terrorizing my littlest critic." KID picks up Edogawa-kun and returns to his spot. Edogawa-kun glares at him alongside Mouri-san, but his looks to be more of an annoyed expression than anger.

"This is humiliating," he says. "I'll have my revenge."

"You still owe me a favor, detective-kun."

"I let you go that one time with the Junior Detectives."

"Pppff, you let me go all the time." KID waves the hand that's not holding Edogawa-kun to his side dismissively. "That doesn't count."

"YOU LET HIM GO?" Inspector Nakamori yells, reminding the two others of their audience. Edogawa-kun startles.

"He saved the Junior Detectives' lives," Edogawa-kun says.

"I don't need him to let me go. I'm perfectly capable of doing my own escapes, thank you very much. He's a child. It's not like he can do much to stop me."

"You don't seem to think so when I have you cornered with a soccer ball."

"Those things are weapons of mass destruction and you shouldn't be allowed to use them!" KID hisses.

Hakuba decides to end their little debate. "We've gotten off topic. My question has yet to be answered."

"It wouldn't be very fun if I just gave you the answer, wouldn't it?" KID says, with his smile still in place. "After all, Conan-kun has spent all this time working to figure it out. It wouldn't be very polite to let his efforts go to waste."

"So you admit it," Hakuba says. "Your motives are different from the previous Kaito KID."

"Or maybe," KID says. "Maybe you've been wrong all along."

Inspector Nakamori takes a step forward. "Saguru-kun was right, then? You're a different Kaito KID than the one from 8 years ago?"

It's the first time Hakuba has ever seen KID's smile falter, and for as fast as he fixed it back on his face, he doesn't think he would've noticed if he hadn't been paying close attention to it in the first place.

Inspector Nakamori curses under his breathe, rubbing at his eyes with his fingers.

"I don't want KID dead." Edogawa-kun's voice is marely a whisper. The phrase surprises everyone, Edogawa-kun included, who pales when all the attention turns to him.

"All efforts to apprehand Phantom thief 1412 have been non-lethal." Inspector Nakamori attempts to reassure Edogawa-kun. Hakuba frowns in thought. "You knows this, kid."

Hakuba checks his watch. He doesn't have much time to get the truth out of KID with this,and he doubts this method would work again.

"The police is using non-lethal action." Mouri-san's voice is barely audible. She's looking at KID and Edogawa-kun with an unreadable expression on her face. "But... Sonoko said there have been rumors of people hearing gunshots during some of Kaito KID's heists," she says, careful. Her eyes don't leave his face.

Hakuba turns sharply towards he thief. On his face, the same cocksure smile. The same can't be said for Edogawa-kun, who looks seconda away from passing out, his fingers clenching KID's vest tightly. "Someone else wants to get to you," he says. "But... why. I'm still missing something."

"There's plenty of people unhappy with me for stealing their precious gems, you know?" KID boasts, making a rose appear in his hand, making a show of examining it. "It's not so surreal to think people would want to take revenge." The rose turns into the Alexandrite that was that day's target. He holds it up to the sliver of moonlight coming from one of the room's windows.

Inspector Nakamori's eye twitches at the sight, but he holds himself and says, "There isn't any mention of gunshots in any of the official reports of any of Kaito KID's heists."

KID flicks the gemstone up in the air, letting it fall back into Edogawa-kun's hands.

When he sees Edogawa-kun with the gem in his hands, face unsurprised by the gesture, Hakuba feels like a lightbulb lit up. "You give everything back," he mutters. "You give everything back," he says, louder this time. "That's what I've been missing. The privious Kaito KID kept all that he stole, but you give everything back."

"I think that's common knowledge at this point, detective-san."

Hakuba shakes his head. He checks his watch. "Why go all the trouble of stealing the gems if you have no intention of keeping them?"

"The thrill?" Mouri-san and Inspector Nakamori say at the same time.

"That's what they said of the first KID, too. His criminal profile looked at the flashy white suit, the magic tricks, and the general showmenship and called it narcisistic behaviour. Attention seeking," he says. "And that can still apply to you."

"Hey-" the protest goes ignored.

"But that doesn't explain why you decided to give the gems back. Afterall, it's considerably more effort to return them without being seen that it would be to jsut keep them." He takes a step towards the thief. "You're looking for something." Another step. "And the people shooting at you are doing the same. And you don't want them to have it."

"That's an interesting theory, detective-san." KID tries to keep his voice stable, but the prolonged exposure to the serum, combined with the nervousness caused by Hakuba getting closer to the truth, is going its job, and KID's voice wavers.

#me me post #kaito kid #magic kaito #detco #detective conan #conan edogawa #hakuba saguru #kuroba kaito #truth serum #detco fanfiction

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ghostieblr · 6 months ago

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the perfect star that hid

written for @sterekbingo square "soulmate au." kind of a new take on soulmate au? at least i haven't seen this particular type (if you have, please link them to me!! <3) also, my card is under the cut! at the very end. the full fic is here, but you can also read it on ao3 (where i'll post it when i get back home) if that's more your style.

The name unfurls on his wrist at the mall, filled with people, a scratch to his bone that goes unnoticed; he always wears full sleeves, a habit borne of shame and fury, fury at himself and his life and at the one who is writing it. He's 27 — older than the average population of those without someone by their side, someone who are made with dust and ashes that together make the perfect star.

He's celebrating his 27th birthday, actually, in this very mall. Friends that appreciate his appreciation for Star Wars, that don't mind him or pity him, who actually care about him — they booked an entire cinema hall for him, pulled certain strings to make it happen, and none of them had to pleaded or begged for it. They just love him.

He doesn't have his soulmate, yet, perhaps never will, but there is this truth as well: he has friends that love him like family, like their own. It might just have to be enough.

That's what he's thinking, the epiphany dredging up his past agony and mulling it over, layering it over with itself, a sort of aftercare that he's giving a try. And he's tired, too, of the heartache and the negativity — his own most of all. And he is tired of the day, muscles aching, and hey. It's a good time for a relaxing shower, now that he's home.

So he smiles at no one in the apartment but at himself in the mirror he's hung in the living room, a sort of statement piece that Lydia insisted on after taking one look at his at the time barely furnished abode, and shrugs.

"You don't need anyone, Stiles."

The words don't sound quite right as he hears them, the meaning of it turned desolate instead of triumphant as his thoughts become intangibly tangible, an epiphany to something he might just have to get used to. Still, he's said it, it's out there, and it's gonna have to do.

He picks the clothes off of himself, hopes the shower will help him pick himself up. Decides a bath would be better — but he's not got that now, has he? Perhaps he should start saving for a house, now. But it's just so much harder with one income only; he could move back to Beacon Hills? San Francisco isn't bad, but the prices of real estate are no joke.

The pros and cons of that potential scenario run through his head, his legs out of the jeans now, his hoodie off of his body next. Huh, he's almost out of toothpaste; he should go to the grocery store tomorrow. He should also see what's in his fridge and what's not but — later.

He's getting ahead of himself.

The t-shirt he's wearing comes off, too, a full-sleeved one, white, that looks rather good on him. Accentuates the lean muscle thing he's got going on from his years at the Track Team in high school and college. There's this scar he has on his left palm from falling once in the middle of a tournament. He turns his hand—

It's not bare, anymore. His wrist — it has a name.

His soulmate's name.

He stares. And stares and stares because what the hell. This has to be a joke, right?

It just has to be.

He has been within 100 metres of this person before multiple times. Has been to his childhood home, to the fucking police station he works at because hello — Derek Hale is one of Sheriff's Deputies, and Stiles is the Sheriff's son.

They've been within 100 metres of each other before.

But this has never happened.

But...

He rushes to his bedroom, naked, panicked, ecstatic. Picks up the phone from where he'd chucked it on the bed, opens the contact of a person he hasn't contacted since the last project they did together in high school.

Cora Hale picks up on fifth ring, when he's about to hang up and try again.

"Stilinski?" She sounds confused. "It's been a while. What's up?" A muffled voice, a male. Cora says, "Are you fucking kidding me? It can't be him — you've known each other for — it's impossible —" She's clearly not speaking to Stiles.

"Is Derek there?"

Cora stops talking.

"Cora, is he — did he get it too?"

Sounds of footsteps, labored breathing. Phone changes hands and then: "Are you Mieczysław Stilinski?"

Stiles stops breathing. It's real.

Derek is asking him the name nobody but his father and the people at the DMV know.

"I don't know any other Stilinski’s. Just your father and you," Derek is saying. He sounds confused, happy, breathless. "And I know your name starts with an M. I saw some papers on the Sheriff's desk once, by mistake but — how is it you?" A pause. "Not — I didn't — I mean like —"

"How is it me when we have been around each other for so long. I have been at your house, you've been working at the BHPD for... fuck, 3 years now?"

"Since I came back from NY, yeah."

"I don't know, Derek, I don't but I... you were at the mall today, right?" He just wants to be sure.

"Yes. Yeah. I was, I was buying a gift for my parent's anniversary."

"And today's my birthday, I was —"

"With your friends watching Star Wars. I know. I saw you and the Sheriff let the whole station know about it yesterday."

Stiles can't fucking believe this. And also... "I'm so fucking cold. I really should wear some clothes."

"What?"

"Long story short — Shower, saw the name, called the one Hale's number I had."

Derek's chuckle is sexy and seriously, how has he never heard it before? It's a crime. And Stiles should be in jail. At least then he would have met his soulmate earlier... but wait, that's a paradox. Isn't it?

"I thought you were short story long kind of person," Derek says, and follows up with, "And if you're free right now... I know it's late but, would you forsake your shower and meet me to figure out why he haven't met before?"

Stiles cuts the call.

Then calls Cora's cell again. Derek picks it up with an exhale that seems very anxious, so Stiles closes his eyes at his stupidity and admits, "That was a yes. My brain just jumped ahead a few steps. Please text me your number so we can let Cora have her phone back," Cora cheers in the background, "And I can end the call so that I can wear my clothes and you can text me whatever address and we can finally meet and I'm sorry for ending the call so abruptly and seriously why haven't we met before? It's so —"

Derek chuckles again, and really, it's such a nice sound. "Stiles, breathe. I don't want you to die just yet."

"I can absolutely do that, yep."

Silence.

"Stiles? Wear your clothes. I promise I'll help you out of them when —"

There's a sudden struggle at the other end, and then it's Cora's voice coming down the line, "Ew! No! Do it on your own phone. Stiles, I'm texing you my brother's number, so go! Now!"

She ends the call.

Stiles lets his own phone fall onto the bed, processes what happened for just a minute, and then smiles goofily when Cora makes good on her statement.

Somehow, even though they haven't interacted in all these years despite all the things connecting them to the same peg on the board, Derek texts Stiles: "Stop dawdling and come meet me at the diner on 5th. Remember to wear your clothes. For now."

It's all one block of text too, the dork.

Guess that's his dork now.

Greatest. Birthday. Ever.

#sterek #derek hale #stiles stilinski #teen wolf #sterekbingo #sterekbingo24 #my internship is almost overrrr and this is me being super happy/productive about it hehehehe #sh.writing

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sequinsmile-x · 2 months ago

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A Few of My Favourite Things

It's Emily's birthday, and Aaron and Jack seize the opportunity to right some of the wrongs of the past.

-x-

Hi besties,

Nearly four years into my Hotchniss writing career and I finally get to write one of 'those' ao3 author notes.

I know it hasn't been *that* long since I posted a fic, but 5 days is probably the longest it's been without me posting for a couple of years. I had (planned) surgery on one of my lungs on Friday and only got home from the hospital yesterday. I'm still recovering and will be for a few weeks, but I've been working on this on and off for a few days because I always write something for their birthdays <3

I'll absolutely still be posting - writing keeps my mind alive - but probably not quite as often as we're all used to whilst my body remembers how to...breathe properly hahaha

Anyway, here's a belated birthday fic for Emily based on an anon I got <3

As always, let me know what you think!

-x-

Warnings: None, just super super fluffy

Words: 3.5k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

“Emmy, can I ask you something?”

She smiles as she looks at Jack, nodding as she sits up to make room for him on the couch, her book already closed and on the coffee table by the time he joins her so he has her full attention. Aaron was still at work, kept behind by paperwork and reports, and she’d offered to pick Jack up from Jessica’s and take him home. Aaron had smiled gratefully at her, his eyes shining with everything he couldn’t say to her whilst they were at work. He glanced towards the window of his office to ensure no one was watching before he stamped a quick kiss against her lips, a tiny moment of them lingering between them before they returned to the professionalism they held as dear as they did their relationship.

It was a fine line they’d walked for months now, the 8 months since their first date some of the best of her life, and she knew eventually they’d have to stop. That as they moved further into this, as they took every next inevitable, wonderful, step into officially living together and marriage and kids, working together would no longer be practical. The blind eye that Strauss and the higher-ups had granted them so far would go away, any prentice of willful ignorance gone with by them submitting an address change form, or the existence of a marriage certificate.

She knew realistically it would be her who would leave the BAU, and she was content with it. If it hadn’t been for Aaron, and by extension Jack, and the love and happiness they’d brought to her life she’s sure she would have left the BAU, and potentially DC, anyway. That she’d have taken the first offer that got her out of here, no matter how far away it took her, because she needed to be who she was now without people looking at her and mourning who she once was. Aaron had helped her through it, had helped her help herself more than anything else, and she finally felt at peace. Like she had a home for the first time in her life, only it wasn’t made out of bricks and mortar but a man, who she would have once called stern, with a dimpled smile that made her stomach flip every time, and his little boy.

She loved Jack so much that it scared her sometimes. At first, she’d doubted her place in his life, never wanting to overstep, the gap his mother had left behind was not one she wanted anyone to think she was trying to fill, but as time went on she got more comfortable with it all. She cared less about what other people may think because it worked for them. She was the one Jack would seek out if he was sick or sad, his face pressed against her neck as she soothed him with soft words, gentle kisses and fierce hugs. He’d bring her paintings he’d done at school with a proud smile as he presented them to her and she’d react as if they should be hung in the Louvre. She loved him, and he loved her, and that was enough. She knew without a shadow of a doubt that when she and Aaron had more children she wouldn’t love them any differently to how she loved him.

He’d taught her that she could be a mom, even if he never ended up calling her that.

“Of course you can, sweet boy. You can ask me anything, you know that,” she says, patting the couch as he joins her, her smile getting wider as he sits next to her and huddles against her side as if on instinct, “Is everything okay?”

He sighs as if he has the weight of the world on his shoulder, “I don’t know what I want to do for my birthday.”

She has to press her lips together to stop herself from laughing, never wanting him to think she was making fun of him, “Your birthday is meant to be fun, kiddo. Let’s think about it together,” she pushes his hair from his forehead and then drops a kiss there before she encourages him further into her embrace, “Have you had any ideas at all?”

He half shrugs against her, “I know I want Daddy’s chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast.”

She hums and rests her cheek against the top of his head, “The best birthday breakfast ever.”

“And it would be fun to go to the park. And maybe the arcade?” He muses, his fingers idly playing with the delicate chain of her bracelet, something she’d rarely taken off of her wrist since Aaron gave it to her one date night just because, “I just want to spend the day with you and Daddy.”

Her cheeks ache with the smile that spreads across her face, love for him so overwhelming it briefly makes it hard to breathe, “Well, you’ll get that no matter what we do.”

It’s a promise she knows she can keep because they’d booked two weeks off work so they’d be off for both Jack’s and her birthday, a positive side effect of Strauss’s recent ‘use it or lose it’ policy when it came to the team's leave. Aaron and Emily both had so many vacation days left she’s sure they could have taken a month off and still had time to spare, but they’d settle on this for now, both of them silently agreeing they’d keep the rest banked until the honeymoon they both knew was somewhere not too far away on the horizon.

Jack pulls away and looks up at her, his head tilted slightly to the side, his eyes full of curiosity, “What did you used to do on your birthday?”

“When I was your age?” She asks, something that gets her a nod in response, and she suppresses a sad sigh, “My mom would take me out to eat at a nice restaurant if she wasn’t busy with work.” She runs her fingers through his hair, smiling when it flops back down immediately, partially covering his horrified expression.

“She never took you to the park and pushed you on the swings? Or went to the arcade with you?”

She smiles at that, internally laughing at the image of her mother in an arcade, the red soles of her Louboutins sticking to the soda-covered vinyl floor as her daughter tries to win enough tickets to get a stuffed cat from the prize stand. It wasn’t something Emily had ever really thought about all that much before. Her birthdays had consisted of over the top gifts and very little time with her mother. Any meal they did go out for was in a restaurant designed for adults - fancy dishes created to be paired with wine, nothing for a little girl who wanted pizza, chicken nuggets and ice cream until she fell asleep.

It briefly makes her sad, familiar sorrow for the younger version of herself flickering in her gut, and she promises herself Jack and any siblings he would one day have would never have to feel this way.

“No, sweetie,” she says, “She didn’t, but we’re talking about your birthday,” she says, diverting the conversation back to him, tickling his stomach to draw a laugh about him, “Chocolate chip pancakes, the park, the arcade…anything else?”

He furrows his brow and pauses, deep in thought for a moment, before his eyes go bright and he looks at her, “Ice cream.”

She laughs and nods, tugging him back into a hug, “Ice cream sounds perfect.”

___

The first thing she notices when she wakes up is the smell of pancakes. The second is the sound of Jack giggling followed by Aaron shushing him, his voice low as he tries to stay quiet.

“We need to be quiet, buddy.”

“But we’re about to wake her up anyway.”

She decides to take pity on her boyfriend when she hears his exasperated spy, not that she’s sure she could hide that she’s awake much longer anyway, her smile wide and sleepy as she half presses it into his pillow, and she opens her eyes.

“Lucky for the two of you, I’m already awake,” she says as she sits up, her smile getting wider at the sight of them - matching grins on their faces and splatters of flour in their hair and on their cheeks. She looks at the tray in Aaron’s hands with a huge stack of pancakes on it and a cup of coffee, and then back up at her boyfriend, “What’s all this?”

“Happy birthday, Emily!” They say in unison as Jack scrambles onto the bed, throwing himself into her arms, an embrace she returns just as fiercely.

“Thank you,” she replies, stamping a kiss against his forehead before she turns to Aaron who is now sitting on the edge of the bed, ready to hand her the tray. She gratefully takes it from him and rests it over her and Jack’s laps and cups Aaron’s cheek, tugging him in for a kiss, keeping him in place, chasing the taste of batter and him before he pulls back, “Thank you too.”

He smiles and kisses her quickly, “You’re welcome sweetheart,” he winks at her as he sits back so she has access to the tray, “They’re your favourite.”

She looks down at the pancakes, her smile getting impossibly wider when she realises they are heart-shaped, and she chuckles when she sees the scattering of chocolate throughout them, “Chocolate chip!”

“The best birthday breakfast ever,” Jack says, repeating something she’d said to him weeks ago when he was agonising over what to do for his birthday. They’d ended up doing everything he’d wanted, and he’d fallen asleep on the couch that night as they watched his favourite movie, happy and content and safe between them.

She hums and leans down to kiss his forehead, “Well, there are a lot of pancakes here,” she smiles up at Aaron, “I think you boys are going to have to help me.”

Aaron chuckles and reaches for one of the forks on the tray, “Why do you think we brought three forks up here?”

She laughs and shakes her head at him as he cuts through the soft pancakes with the side of the fork. She leans forward to eat the first bite when he offers his fork to her, and she smiles, “You’ve got it all planned out.”

“Trust me, sweetheart,” he says, winking again, “We’ve got the whole day planned out, don’t we Jack?”

Jack nods enthusiastically, half a pancake in his hands, his fork already abandoned entirely, “We do!”

She narrows her eyes playfully, “You two are lucky I trust you.”

Aaron kisses her cheek, and then the corner of her lips, “Eat your pancakes, Em. All will be revealed.”

After they’ve had breakfast, Aaron insists he’ll clean the kitchen, ignoring their usual rule that if one of them cooked the other cleaned up, and he encourages her towards the shower. He joins her when he’s done in the kitchen, his hands on her hips as he pulls her back under the stream of hot water, whispering he’d distracted Jack with a video game to buy them 30 minutes before he kisses her.

They give her gifts, a framed photo of the three of them from Jack and a necklace from Aaron to match her bracelet, and cards with beautiful things written in them that almost make her cry. Aaron’s warm and comforting hand on her thigh, a gentle squeeze through the material of her jeans, is the only thing that keeps her together. They tell her it’s time to go and she doesn’t even care where they are going because she feels warm and loved and just happy to be with them. Aaron insists they all wear jackets, a hint that wherever they are going they’d be outside, and they get into the car. It’s when they are just over halfway there she realises they are going to the park, a journey they’d made only five days ago for Jack’s birthday, and she smiles curiously at her boyfriend, reaching over the centre console to reach for his hand, his eyes giving nothing away when he turns to look at her.

When they are a safe distance away from the parking lot, Emily and Aaron walking hand in hand just a few paces behind Jack, the little boy takes off at a run, “I’m going to go save the swings for us.”

“Jack, be careful,” Aaron says, “Make sure-”

“I stay where you can see me, I know,” Jack says, rolling his eyes at his father and the warning he always gave him. Aaron chuckles as Jack continues to run towards the swings and he shakes his head lovingly.

“You know, he never used to do that before you,” he says, squeezing her hand, his smile getting wider when she laughs and looks at him, her eyebrow raised, her smile diminishing any attempt to pretend she was annoyed.

“So,” she starts curiously, purposely knocking her shoulder against his, “The park,” she presses her lips together to contain her smile, “Are you going to tell me what you two are up to yet?”

He stops her, turning them so he can talk to her and keep an eye on Jack, “A couple of weeks ago a little bird told me you never got to do any fun things on your birthday like go to the park or the arcade.”

She bites the inside of her cheek and looks over at Jack, the little boy now patiently sitting on one of the swings as he waits for them, and then back at Aaron, “Did he now?”

Aaron nods and squeezes her hips before his hands slip to her lower back, encouraging her closer, “He did, so we decided we’d make sure you got to do all of those fun things on your birthday this year,” he explains, his smile adorably nervous, “We’re going to a pizza place for lunch, then the arcade and then out for ice cream - which I was told was non-negotiable - which will be followed by heading home to order in dinner from a place of your choosing,” he smiles, his dimples carved out into his cheeks, “And then we’ll watch whatever nerdy movie you pick.”

She chuckles and hooks her arms around his neck, her fingers trailing through the short hair there. She feels tears pressing at the back of her eyes, her chest tight with love and everything she’d never been able to find the words for. She’d never been loved like this before. Never been loved so unconditionally or deeply, and there were moments like this when it was overwhelming, something that not all that long ago would have sent her running in the other direction.

These days, she didn’t want to run anywhere other than towards Aaron and Jack, and the future they were building together.

She watches as panic washes over her boyfriend’s face, mistaking her silence for annoyance rather than joyful disbelief, “If this was a bad idea, we can go home,” he says, half stuttering out his words in a way she’d never heard from him before, “I have a backup reservation at that new Italian place this evening-”

She cuts him off with a kiss, her hands on each of his cheeks as she pulls back, “No, this is…” she trails off into a wet chuckle, shaking her head at him, “This is perfect,” she kisses him again, “You’re perfect. I love you so much.”

He smiles, his relief spreading through him in a way she can feel, his body relaxing against hers, “I love you too.”

She leans in to kiss him again but they are cut off by a yell from Jack, his patience finally running out.

“Dad, Emily, hurry up!”

They both laugh and look at him, his hands on his hips as he stands just a few feet away from the swings, and then they look back at each other, wide smiles on both of their faces as they start to walk towards the young boy.

“He never used to do that either.”

“Aaron.”

___

It had without a doubt, been her favourite birthday she’d ever had.

Jack insisted that he had to push her on the swing, his small hands on her back helped along by Aaron’s bigger hands just above them, both of them laughing as she tried to pretend she wasn’t enjoying herself. They’d ordered more food than they could possibly have eaten at the pizza place and then spent more money than she thought possible at the arcade. Hours and hours lost to the three of them moving from game to game, the tickets they’d won stuffed into their pockets as they drank giant sodas and somehow found room for hot dogs and ice cream. She’d handed her tickets over to Aaron when she went to the bathroom, her lips stamped against his as he said they’d meet her at the prize counter, and she expected that she’d find them standing there with some plastic game Jack had picked out for himself.

Instead, she’d found them there with a large stuffed cat in Jack’s arms, his smile wide as he handed it to her and told her they’d chosen it for her. It’s probably the ugliest looking thing she’s ever seen - its black fur looked unevenly distributed, its sewn-on smile was wonky and the stare from its eyes was something close to unnerving - but she loves it. It’s immediately her favourite thing she’s ever been given, and she’s sure she’s never come closer to crying in public. It’s something that would have felt ridiculous in the middle of an arcade filled with screaming children and exasperated parents, so she’d held it together. She’d held the cat close all night, cuddled up against her as they watched Star Wars, a physical manifestation of their love for her that she wasn’t quite ready to let go of yet.

When they get ready for bed, she places it on an armchair in the corner of Aaron’s bedroom and pats it on the head before she walks to the ensuite. She’s just finished with her skincare routine when Aaron joins her, his arms wrapping around her from behind as he smiles at her in the mirror.

“Did you have a good birthday?” He asks, kissing her cheek, making her smile when he shifts down to kiss her neck, his nose nestling against her jawline, his love for her lotion well known.

“I did,” she replies, resting her hands over his on her abdomen, “The best.”

He tilts his head to look down at her, “Are you sure? It was only when we were at the arcade I realised I’d let Jack talk me into the perfect day for a 6-year-old boy.”

She’d laugh, but she wants him to know how much this had meant to her, how this had been infinitely more special to her than a dinner in a restaurant they could eat at any night could ever have been. She turns in his arms and wraps her arms around his neck, letting her thumb stroke back and forth over the patch of skin beneath his hairline.

“Honey, today was perfect,” she says, her eyes boring into his, hoping more than anything that he’d believe her, “You gave me something I didn’t even know I’d been missing,” she smiles when he relaxes, “This was the best birthday I’ve ever had,” her smile turns mischievous as she leans in to kiss him, “If anything, you’ve just made more hard work for yourself next year when you have to try and top it.”

He grins at her, his grip on her tightening, “I look forward to the challenge,” he kisses her, his hands firm on her lower back as he holds her close, his fingers sneaking under the hem of her t-shirt. He starts to lead her towards the bedroom, both of them grasping at each other, their kiss eventually lost as her knees hit the back of the bed and she pulls him down on top of her, “Just one thing though.”

She frowns at him as she tries to catch her breath, “What?”

“We’re not doing this with that fucking cat watching us.”

She laughs as she looks over to the stuffed cat sitting on the armchair in the corner of the room, and she holds Aaron’s head against her chest, his forehead against her collarbone, “Don’t worry honey,” she encourages him to look up at her, her lips stamped against his as she scrapes his hair away from his forehead, “I’m sure we’ll find a permanent place for it.”

18 months later, the cat is one of many stuffed animals lined up in their daughter’s nursery. Its wonky smile a well-loved companion on long sleepless nights as Emily feeds the baby and Aaron holds them both close.

#hotchniss fanfiction #hotchniss fanfic #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #hotchniss fan fic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #emily prentiss fanfiction #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #hotchniss #aaron x emily

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iamnotadumbdonut · 8 months ago

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some observations about the changes in Percy's personality in the chalice of the gods because im a fucking dumb fuck

if you've read chalice of the gods, (and if you haven't then just go and read it PLZ), it's pretty obvious that Percy's personality has become more "bby girl" sassy than his original "angsty skater boi" sassy. now i know I'm probably making excuses for rick's writing still, which changed considerably after writing 5 whole books from apollo's perspective, who is the canon bby girl btw, but some of his sass has transferred into Percy's personality. this could also be because of the natural change in Percy tho. for starters, he's growing up now. leaving the angsty angry teen years behind. obviously, his emotions are more in control. in chalice of the gods, it is indirectly stated he keeps his cool more than he did before. in the tower of Nero, he seems more amiable than he ever was, which just proves my boi has become a well rounded individual on the way to adulthood who has learnt to not be angry and childish. good for him.

another reason he's a lot happier than before, and i could be wrong, but i most definitely am not, is that Percy was pretty angry and snarky before he went into Tartarus, right up till MoA. and boom, in house of hades, he falls into Tartarus, gets hella traumatized, broken af and just fucking destroyed, and then he enters the mortal world again, all sappy and shit. most people think that he's all happy and so he's dumbed down in the blood of olympus in order to raise all the others to the pedestal, but isn't that how anyone will react after going to hell and back??? sure he was dark and all scary at first, but when that boy healed (almost completely, after all PTSD never really leaves you ) he was just so full of joy. because that's the rational way to go about it. compared to all the shit in Tartarus, any problem in the world was next to fucking NOTHING. no problem was too big because he has been to literal hell, and hence all his anger has died down and is just a little spark now, and so just pointing it out old Percy= snark/ impertinence (close enough eh) Percy in Tartarus= fucking broken lmao new Percy= lost most of his anger, a lot happier, nothing else. and hence a new equation is formed snark-anger=sass so now all that's left is sass it's also given in the dictionary that while sass is just playfully feisty, snark is supposed to rude. that's all. Percy hasn't been dumbed down. he's just happier and more carefree (again pointing out, not the same as careless, which Percy was before) wait wait wait yes

old Percy= careless new Percy=carefree careless + more responsible + more considerate - anxious =carefree

boom bitches im the psychological mathematician. ciao muahahhhhaahahaha

#this was really important to me idk why it just was #oh well #thanks for paying attention to my rant anyway #pjo #percy jackson #hoo #heroes of olympus #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson disney+#pjo hoo toa #pjo fandom #omg this is so geeky ugh im such a fangirl #gotta go bye

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atarathegreat · 1 year ago

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TR Boys Crackhead Headcanons

Kazutora Hanemiya

Man spreads because why should you have space on the train

shoves puzzle pieces together that don't match because "this part fits, see!"

broke his own finger just to feel what it was like

moves furniture so people bump into it on purpose

crops everyone else out of photos he's in and doesn't even use the photos for anything

sometimes wears shoes on the opposite feet just to see who will notice

has and will break granola bars on anyone's bed

Mitsuya Takashi

learned to bake so he could put laxatives in cake (fuck around and find out)

hates who his sisters hate

definitely shit talks kindergarteners with Luna

wore a matching dress with his sisters to the movies, pummeled the guy that tried laughing at him

doesn't stop the conversation when he enters the public restrooms

Nahoya Kawata

walks down the upward escalator

smacks everyone in the back of the head because he feels like it

had court once, laughed on his way out because he was falsely found not guilty

has and will drink milk from cereal bowls without having cereal

sits and stares at Souya without blinking until Souya gets uncomfortable

knocked out a guy's teeth and kept them to send back to him via mail

Souya Kawata

Prefers to sleep in a pile of stuffed animals

the bed hasn't been slept in for three years

actually writes poems and hangs them around the city, ended up on the news for it

Cries to ASPCA commercials

Gets angry when Nahoya falls asleep on the couch, drags him back to bed by his feet

completely believes he could solve true crime

Keisuke Baji

Sharpens his teeth with a nail file

tried wearing contacts once but didn't soak them in contact solution so he only dried his eyes out

calls everyone babe platonically

if he can't find both shoes he only wears one

has a scrunchy collection

thought he was spiderman once and jumped off a roof

will shake his ass when standing still (mad tango skillz)

Kokonoi Hajime

Has a book of rare coins

has a button collection

uses chalk hairdye

plucks his eyebrows too thin

can ballet dance

TikTok feind

Manjiro Sano

Calls in sick to places he doesn't work

Got fired from three places he didn't work at

always orders kids meals

has a tantrum until Kenny cuts his hair

uses clear nail polish regularly

has debated getting a trampstamp

does his hair straight up before fixing it so he can look like a unicorn

Ken Ryuguji

has gone bald, does not work for him

draws in tattoos on the side of his head

has a collection of fake earrings that he tried once (Howls Moving Castle theme)

keeps flavored lube in his room just so he can taste it when he wants something sweet

Taiju Shiba

Thinks he can pull of orange (makes him feel like a baddy)

carries an eyebrow pencil everywhere

fights random females for fun

punches himself in the face for being late to things

had frosted tips in middle school

has staring contests with himself

Hanma Shuji

eats ice cream with a fork

eats soup off a plate

has a closet full of plaid clothing, irons it before wearing because "who tf fights with wrinkles in their clothes"

swears by hair gel

tried hairspray once, didn't taste nice so he threw it out a window

after being dubbed the Reaper, he wore a grim reaper outfit

will kiss and the homies and say no homo

Chifuyu Matsuno

plans to name his first child after his cat

has a Baji shrine next to his Peke J shrine

reads his Yaoi books in public and has outburst when things don't go how he wants them to

locked himself in a pet store and threatened to kill himself if he didn't get a cat, his mom beat the shit out of him for it

screams "real or cake" before biting literally anything

Tetta Kisake

puts milk before cereal

writes cursive only to annoy others

once slept on the roof of his house to make his mom feel bad for yelling at him

has a dog name Roscoe (it's a female)

definitely has little man syndrome

thinks girls are into his "mysterious" vibe (literally just doesn't speak to anyone and has RBF)

once pretended to be gay thinking he would get into a girls slumber party

Hakkai Shiba

the only girl he can talk to is his sister (that's just a fact)

moves the family photos around to see if Yuzuha will notice

is regularly on discord but he pretends to be a girl so he can troll guys

swings from trees like hes a monkey because he thinks its faster than running

worked at a haunted house and crawled across the floor like some messed up spider, he was playing as a scarecrow, it was a childrens haunted house

Takamichi Hanagaki

tries to scale buildings by the fire escapes

copies the others fighting styles hoping to look just as cool

eats a raw egg every morning

crops himself out of photos so no one can find him

unironically calls Hina his little princess

colors in the boxes to crossword puzzles

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spockandawe · 9 days ago

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Hello hello! I'm sleepy and bored at work, but still have two meetings to go, and THEN I stumbled across an ask game a themed reading list! I got linked to it here by a friend, and I've been reading a surprising amount this year compared to what I usually manage, so let's goooo

Author you've read the most books from:

Oh man. This has to be either Terry Pratchett or Mercedes Lackey, even though I haven't gone through the WHOLE catalog for either one. Let's look this up? Wow, more of a difference than i was expecting: Terry Pratchett, 39. Mercedes Lackey, 63.

Best Sequel Ever:

Oh, that's so hard! Arguably Thud! by Terry Pratchett counts, but looking that late in a long series feels like cheating. I'm going to say either Ancillary Sword (imperial radch #2) by Anne Leckie, or The Siren Depths (books of the raksura #3), by Martha Wells. The earlier books hooked me, but then these ones just put me in the salad spinner and went to town.

Currently Reading (12/'24):

Too many 🥲 I won't even get into mangas and manhwas here, lmao.

Evil As Humans by Nian Zhong

I Became A God In A Horror Game by Pot Fish Chili

SSS-Class Suicide Hunter by Shin Noah

Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint by Sing Shong

The Guild Member Next Door by Honeytrap (this hasn't snagged me yet, but the manhwa is extremely charming, i mayyy just stick to that)

Star Instructor, Master Baek (loved the manhwa, NEED full prose context, haha)

Drink of Choice While Reading:

I read a lot on walks, so none, really! If I'm reading in bed i might make tea or grab something cold and bubbly, but i tend to get too immersed to remember my beverages.

E-reader or Physical Book:

E-reader. I was that weird kid who always carried around like five books, and this is so much better. It's faster, it's more convenient, I can word search, it's easier to share snippets with friends, it suits all my needs beautifully. The caveat. Is that I dont trust the permanence of digital media at ALL, especially if drm is involved, so i really try to own physical copies of everything i LOVE.

Fictional Character You Probably Would Have Dated in High School:

Oh god, dating, the worst activity. Ummm. Gosh. See. My trouble here is that I have chronically terrible instincts for who is actually good romantic interest material in real life, and that problem was SO MUCH WORSE as a teenager. Let's say Sha Hualing. Is this ending well for me? Nope!

Glad You Gave This Book a Chance:

'C Language Cultivation' by Yi Shi Si Zhou! I'm an engineer, but god, i am not a programmer. But I'm so glad I went into this book anyways! I was able to MOSTLY get pulled along for the ride when characters talked programming, and I think its SUCH an interesting way to conceptualize cultivation in a modern setting. And then on top of that, the plot went crunch and did some really interesting things! I would have balked at this one normally, but it really worked for me.

Hidden Gem Book:

'Evil As Humans' by Nian Zhong. I really need to rave about this one more, because it's one of the best cnovels I've ever read, and I'm so sad it took me this long to catch word of it. I'm not done yet, because i got overwhelmed by Emotions and was afraid of running out of book so I stopped reading, like a dumbass. It's so so so so good. It's got everything. It's got fascinating worldbuilding, amazing characters, glorious imagery, BEEFY plot, and one of my favorite relationships I've ever read. I would recommend this book whether or not someone has read a cnovel in their life before. And it's so sad that hardly anyone talks about it!

Important Moment in Your Reading Life:

Ooh, I think.... that moment in the peak pandemic days when I was finally intrigued enough to check out MDZS. First, I devoured it and it was SO good. Second, I kept reading cnovels. Third, my passion for cnovels got me into bookbinding. This really made a notable impression on the course of my life since then, which I frankly wasn't expecting at this age!

Just Finished:

Hmmm. I'm not FINISHED, but I'm caught up to the current translation of 'The Hunter's Gonna Lay Low' by Baek Sam. The translator said they would hopefully be catching at the end of this month, and god, I really hope so, this book lodged inside my ribcage.

Longest Book You've Read:

'The Husky and his White Cat Shizun' by Meatbun. It's 1.2 million words. If I ever finish ORV that will dethrone it, but for the love of god, montressor

Major Book Hangover:

Haha, any book I like tends to leave me hung over! I notice especially for the cnovels because they're so long and I get my emotions spun up so high, but it's definitely a regular feature. The only time this doesn't happen is if it's a series like Murderbot when I can immediately press on to the next book, until the inevitable SERIES hangover.

Number of bookcases:

Oh, unfair, the sizes vary wildly. In my house, let me see. There's a BIG built-in bookcase in the basement that has most of my prose fiction and craft books. Basement bedroom has a freestanding bookshelf that might be for art instructional books and art supplies, but im still rearranging.

Upstairs, i have a wide/short bookshelf that's also a tv stand, but it's split between western comics and board games. Kitchen has a teeny wall-mounted set of shelves with my cookbooks. Dining room has a buffet where my shortlisted craft books are stored (so I don't have to get them from the basement).

And upstairs, my pink bedroom has two. There's a small built-in that's for my manga collection and small zines. And there's a corner bookshelf that's for sheet music and coffee table books. I think that's everything!

Preferred Place to Read:

On long walks 🥺 It's so nice. I like it so much. The weather is hostile to my fingeys at this time of year, I need to drag out my various fingerless gloves and scatter them in convenient places so i remember yo grab them. Other than that, curled up in bed, either lying down or sitting against a back pillow.

Quote That Inspires You:

Oh gosh. I dont remember quotes very well. And 'inspire' might be the wrong word. But a number of Terry Pratchett ones stick with me, he really just was an incredibly memorable writer

It was sad music. But it waved its sadness like a battle flag. It said the universe had done all it could, but you were still alive.

-Terry Pratchett, 'Soul Music'

Reading Regret:

I don't regret reading books! Even the ones I hate. If I'm not getting something out of the experience, I'm hideously adhd to begin with, I will probably forget to finish rather than even consciously decide to quit. If I have a regret, maybe... I have a lot of other hobbies and obligations, and there are SO many books I wish I'd already read. I regret not prioritizing reading more in my life, even though I'm sure that in this AU, I'd have brand new regrets instead 😂

Series You Started and Need to Finish:

Mmmmm... Imperial Radch. I read the first trilogy l, the short stories, and Provenance. I just haven't been able to find the right headspace to start Translation State. I'm sure I'll love it! But I haven't done it yet.

Three of Your All-Time Favorite Books:

Agonizing!

The Scum Villain's Self-Saving System by Mo Xiang Tong Xiu

Gideon the Ninth by Tamsyn Muir

Hogfather by Terry Pratchett

Unapologetic Fan for:

The Books of the Raksura, by Martha Wells!! I love murderbot, but i LOOOOVE the raksura books, they deserve more appreciation

Very Excited for This Release:

Alecto the Ninth please im begging on hands and knees 🤣

Worst Bookish Habit:

Look, I am. Very adhd. I will accept your rec with great excitement and make a reminder to myself to go check out this book asap. Then i will also forage for my own new books, because it's good enrichment in my enclosure. Let's not ask what my follow-through numbers are like. Shh, don't worry about it.

X Marks The Spot: Start at the top left of your shelf and pick the 27th book:

Oh, this is gonna drive me nuts. I'm at work, but i HAVE a picture. The resolution, however--

It's the slim hot pink and black paperback. It's an Agatha Christie, and I'm almost positive it's 'The Mysterious Affair At Styles.' But I can't find this edition online to confirm. The book to its left is 'Any Way The Wind Blows' by Rainbow Rowell, the one left of that is 'Alta' by Mercedes Lackey, the one to its right is the complete Sherlock Holmes, and the one right of that is 'Sleeping Beauty' by Mercedes Lackey, so I know my books pretty well! But that ONE. Is driving me nuts 😂

Your Latest Book Purchase:

'Tiger Tiger' by Petra Erika Nordlund! It's sitting on the shelf next to my front door, and I'm POSITIVE I'll enjoy it, but the stars haven't been aligned for me to start it yet, expecially because i do read so much on my phone but i think graphic novels are a Must for physical purchases. If i have digital purchase of comics, they're probably redundant with my physical copies. They're just as ephemeral as prose ebooks, but so much larger to store 😂

ZZZ-snatcher book (last book that kept you up WAY late):

Ooh, that's probably 'I Became A God In A Horror Game' by Pot Fish Chili. This is an interesting one, because between story arcs I lose momentum and take a longgggg pause. But then DURING story arcs, I can't put the silly thing down. It's gripping as HELL.

#spock reads cnovels #among other things #long post #books my beloved

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lxnababy · 1 month ago

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TOUJOURS

COMMITMENT LOST CHAPTER TWO: TOUJOURS

part one

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

wc: 6.2k

Ariana is sad.

Well, that's a given. There is always a melancholy cloud that seems to follow behind her since she was a child, shrinking some years and puffing up others. It's a common occurrence for her to spend a day or two a month holed up in her room, surrounded by giant blankets and overstuffed pillows, reading a romance novel with tears streaming down her face.

By the end of the book, when the main characters get a happy sappy ever after, she shuts the book and lies on her bed, staring at the ceiling until the hours turn into a whole night. She calls it her version of Rest and Relaxation, but she knows it is probably a psychological problem she needs to evaluate much deeper.

But recently, the cloud of melancholy has grown so much it envelops her. She trudges to work, trudges to classes, hands in assignments late, and stares numbly out her old window to the beautiful view of the city. It doesn't seem to have the same spark as it did before; like she finally sees what every depressed, corporate New Yorker sees.

Today, on a particularly cold and rainy Sunday, she is on her old couch, curled up with a blanket as she cries. What she is crying for, she doesn't know.

She could be mourning the loss of Hannah, who hasn't returned any of her text messages since the event over a week ago. She could be upset by the unexpected absence of Harry—after all, she thought men like him enjoyed a good chase. She could be homesick, despite not traveling back to France for almost two years.

She can't figure out what has her so down until she finally understands. Everything. Everything has her upset and overwhelmed.

Knowing she has to wake up each morning with her heart full of unrequited love, aching heavily in her chest and weighing her down. Knowing she cares too deeply for the man across from her on the subway who seems to live there, his arms crossed as he tries (and fails) to get comfortable for a fitful bout of sleep. Knowing she has never felt the same amount of love she gives to others. No one ever thinks about how her day must have been as they lay awake at night, no one picks up a magazine off the stand at a convenience store simply because it reminds them of her.

But complaining about being too caring doesn't feel right. So she doesn't tell Niall, despite his prodding at her upset resting face at brunch the morning before.

"Ari," he pokes her with his fork. "You know you can tell me anything. I won't tell Hannah or Harry or anyone. It can just sit in my brain like a hen sitting on an egg."

Ariana remembers she shakes her head and laughs, then. "Your brain works in mysterious ways, Ni," she deflects his previous comment.

She could've told Niall her woes; in fact, she's unsure why she didn't. He wouldn't have judged her, she knew that. She's spent a fair amount of nights crying in Hannah and Niall's arms after getting ghosted by a man she swore was different—or the time her family canceled her flight home, explaining they needed the money to focus on the kids. The kids were the children her parents had together after she moved across the country.

Nevertheless, it has come to her attention that she is too emotional. From now on, she dedicates one woeful day to just herself, and the other six are complete with cheery smiles and bright eyes.

A loud, unwelcome knock on her apartment door, though, disrupts her misery.

It is sharp and short, though it repeats itself when she doesn't get up promptly. She curses to herself, blinking tears from her eyes and scrubbing her red cheeks as she makes her way to the front door.

Whipping it open blindly, she is met with sleek, black boots. Her head snaps up in confusion, her eyebrows furrowing when she sees who is at her front door, her hair slightly drooping and wet from the rain, white dress shirt sticking to a tattoo-clad figure.

"Sorry for no notice. Just figured I haven't seen you in a while and you weren't at BAR last night."

BAR, conveniently named, happens to be the club she keeps bumping into him at. BAR is the place she rightfully avoids now, knowing Hannah is probably occupying a table.

"So you... came to my house?" Ariana squints up at him, noticing his eyes already searching hers. His brows begin to furrow as she guesses he realizes she's been crying. "Well, I'm alive. Thanks for the wellness check, Harry." She figures a harsh bite of humor will hopefully stop Harry from whatever pity-filled question he would ask in regards to her crying. She leans against her door frame, suddenly aware of how little she is wearing.

Her sleep shorts consisted of women's boxers—a heather gray cotton fabric that could barely be classified as shorts, and her hoodie had the neckline cut off, exposing her braless shoulder. Her hair is woven into a thick braid that falls down her back, her bare face beginning to swell from the hours of drowning in her misery.

"Barely, it looks like," he cracks a smile. "Mind if I come in? I brought party favors," he holds up a bottle of red wine she hadn't noticed he was holding until now, the glass clinking against his heavy rings.

Ariana tilts her head, intrigued. "Why?"

Harry rocks back and forth on his feet. "Because a pretty girl like you shouldn't be upset on God's rest day. It's supposed to be a day of recharging," he explains, scratching the back of his head. It appears Harry has a very dry sense of humor; the kind where she can't tell if he is making a joke or being dead serious.

Ariana knows she shouldn't invite him in. She knows their priorities are different, knows she will read into every word he says and fully believe it. And Harry, well, is a flirt. A massive, beautiful flirt who probably has used that line on many women before her, and will on many women after her.

But she steps aside. "Only because red wine's my favorite," she justifies.

A half hour later, she is sitting across from him at her shitty dinner table, pouring both of them a third glass of wine while babbling about nothing of importance. When did you move to New York? Do you like it here?

"Why'd you come here? I'm sure you have better things to be doing on a Sunday," Ariana crosses her arms, challenging him. Her vision starts to blur and there seem to be two Harry's if she squints just enough, but the buzz of the wine seems to calm her emotions perfectly. Perfectly enough to begin questioning the odd, mysterious man in front of her.

Harry only matches her stature, leaning back in the rickety wooden chair. "Why were you crying? I'm sure you have better things to be doing on a Sunday," he provokes.

Ariana's fingers tighten on her wine glass. Her breath catches in her throat.

"Parce que, Harry, I think I've won the lottery of shittiest luck." She answers vaguely. "And I think I'm prettiest after I cry. It's my way of relaxing,"

Harry can't help the smile that floats over his face. He wouldn't have even noticed the change of expression if it wasn't for the ache his muscles felt; he doesn't smile genuinely often. It is an odd reaction to such a miserable confession, but it is her confession. She told him something that wasn't common knowledge. That is, after all, what he was trying to get her to do all night—tell him something she wants to say, not pleasantries or boring, overused questions.

"I will say you look beautiful bare-faced. Brings out your eyes," he compliments. "How many more wine do we have?" He stutters through the question after downing the last of his glass and shakily putting it down on the table.

"Many?" Ariana begins to laugh at his horrid grammar.

Harry simply grumbles, waving off his mistake with incoherent mumblings. "I think I have a rosé somewhere—"

"The piss of wines," Harry interrupts boldly, staring at her with a deadpan look.

Ariana gasps dramatically at his statement. "How dare you! It's pink!" She narrows her eyes. "Rosé is joyful. Do you hate joy, Harry?"

Harry scoffs. "Yes, I'm the Big Bad Wolf. I hate joy and also rosé. And this fucking chair—I mean, give my tailbone a break." He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, making Ariana giggle softly.

Maybe it is the fact Harry seems to have bought a forty-proof bottle of wine, or the fact she hasn't eaten all day, or the fact she just downed her third glass in a half hour, or the fact they finished the bottle, but Ariana is drunk.

"Well, let's move to the couch, Mr. Big Bad Wolf." She hops up, skipping over to tug on his arm annoyingly so he'd follow her to the overstuffed, very soft couch she bought from a thrift store two years ago.

Somehow, she ends up in his arms. His bicep is hooked over her neck loosely, her chin pressed against the muscle and her head resting in his armpit as she lays in one direction and he lays perpendicular to her, trapping her against him. It's not like she wasn't expecting it—their conversations felt like extended foreplay with how much sexual tension sizzled between them—but she was delightfully surprised at how gentle and slow he was being. How caring he is, for talking to her without trying to use her.

She looks up at him, craning her neck to see his bloodshot eyes. "Wanna know a secret?" Ariana asks, her smile disappearing and the playful tone falling off her words beginning to slow.

"Toujours," [Always] Harry replies.

"I've never been in a relationship. But they seem fun, I think I'd have fun in a relationship." Ariana speaks the last bit to herself, furrowing her brow at the indication she might be oversharing with a man she had promised not to get involved with. It slips out before her brain can stop the message, but it sounds pathetic to be telling a man who she just met how lonely she is.

Harry, with the hand that was tucked behind his head as he lounges on the couch, brings it up to brush the stray, feathery bangs of her chestnut hair away from her face delicately. "That's funny," he says after a minute.

Ariana scoffs, sitting up and turning to face him. "Why? Am I not meant for one?" She sounds hurt like the wine had stripped all of her comebacks and left her defenseless against Harry's wrath.

Harry shakes his head, the bottle of rosé he swore he wouldn't drink sitting tucked under his other armpit, almost empty. "You're meant for one. I'm pretty sure any guy in the entirety of New York would kill for a chance with you. I just think it's funny you want one so badly," he explains, never getting up from his lounging spot even if she was now towering over him.

Ariana squints, disregarding his compliments. "What do you have against relationships, Harry? It's cuddling and talking and sharing families and getting a cat—"

"If you think that's what a relationship is, I hate to break your bubble, but it's ninety percent arguing and ten percent crying." He interrupts. "I'm just not a relationship person. I can't handle... being dependent and constantly worrying about them and getting attached." He looks away from her, his hands squeezing the neck of the bottle as they fall into silence for a few moments. "But if you want a relationship, Ari, I'll help you find the best relationship out there."

She climbs closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder now and melting her body into his side. "We're very different people, Harry," she sighs into his neck, the sound reverberating off the walls of Harry's brain as he holds onto her tighter. "Why have a heart if you won't use it?" The question is vague. She wants to say, humans are supposed to love, but that sounds corny. She wants to convince Harry that relationships should hurt and that sitting in the numb feeling of loneliness created by none other than yourself is much worse than a few tears and rocky weeks with someone you love.

Harry looks down at her—she knows he wants her to meet his gaze, but she can't. She's hurt, hurt someone could feel this way about something so magical. "I think you know that answer," his voice is low like they were sharing a secret.

Her breath hitches. Harry Styles is scared.

She finally looks up at him. "We don't have to use our hearts, then. I'm willing to settle," his hand slides to her hips, the tension in the room filling her ears with fluid and making everything hard to hear. She chews on her lip; she wants to taste his, even if she knows nothing will ever come of it. And she knows he wants that too, with the predatory looks he's been giving her all night, the soft touches that turned into pure electricity.

Harry squeezes the plushy part of the skin sitting over her hip bone. "You're too sweet for this, Ariana,"

"No, I'm not, and you can't hurt me, Harry. We're so different, and I want this. Especially because you're..." she trails off, her eyes flicking to his lips as their heads draw closer together. She doesn't feel herself moving, she simply is. Or is Harry getting closer? She can't tell, but she doesn't care.

He smirks. "Finish the sentence," she shakes her head stubbornly. "Finish the sentence or I'll make you finish the sentence."

Ariana's heart drops and her cheeks flush, heat filling her belly as the leg thrown over his tightened against his. "Especially because you're a sculpture that should be in the Louvre. You're so handsome it almost hurts to look at you, and that's not my type. I like ugly guys," she cracks a joke, trying to ease the rocky ocean water settling between her thighs.

Harry pushed her gently onto her back as he opened her legs to climb inside. "Ariana, you're a putain d'ange [fucking angel]. You're just so you, I've never met anyone like you." He is mumbling, and she knows the sentence isn't meant for her, even though it is addressed to her. He is speaking quietly, eyes roaming her body like one would drink in a beautiful piece of art.

She reaches her head up to kiss him; she's never wanted something so bad. Her mouth feels chapped, her body on fire and the only cure is Harry's soft, wine-sodden lips on hers. But he moves back ever so slightly. "Let me show you?"

It comes out as a question, and Harry isn't sure why he said it. Let me show you the good parts of a relationship, is his full sentence. Let me show you what those other boys can't.

Ariana nods eagerly, though pauses. "I don't want to... do everything," she frowns, bracing herself for an explosion. It usually came from one-night stands who realized they wouldn't get lucky. "I'm sorry," she adds quickly.

Harry frowns. "Don't apologize. I could go home right now and still be over the fucking moon." His hand drops from her hip, a smile cracking onto her face almost like he is reassuring her it's okay to speak up for what she wants. He backs up a bit, thinking Ariana is a bit overwhelmed by how close they are.

But she just puts his hand back, shaking her head. "I wanna do some things," she shows him a teasing grin. "With you, specifically. Obviously,"

Harry laughs, cutting himself off by dipping down to kiss her. Their lips move feverishly, their mouths tasting of wine. It is sloppy and quick, forcing Ariana to arch her back into him, her hips involuntarily rutting against his.

After a few minutes of heavy, hot kissing, she figures something out: Harry isn't going to make the first move. He took her wariness as a sign and stayed in her comfort zone. His hands are on her hips, cemented in place, his lips never straying far from hers. So she squeezes her leg around him tighter, half-heartedly grinding against him. No real pleasure comes from that action; it is more of a way to initiate Harry, but he understands.

He grips her hip hard, forcing her against the couch as he starts to grind against the sweet spot in between her thighs. She gasps at the action, her hands going straight to his hair and tugging on the curls as he drops his mouth open and backs up slightly to look at her. When they glimpse at each other, they both unravel the slightest bit more.

His eyes are bloodshot and pleading, hers submissive and filled with want. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyebrows furrowed. He has to look away; it is like looking at the sun. She is so, so beautiful.

"Please let me taste you,"

His voice is raspy and broken, his lips wet with their saliva as he rutted against her for the minimal release it gives the tension tight in his belly.

Ariana nods. "I've never—no one's ever," she stumbles over her words.

Harry shakes his head in disbelief. "You fucked pussies, Ari. Let me show you," the phrase fell from his lips again, almost unwarranted. Let me show you real pleasure. Let me show you how you're supposed to be treated.

Ariana starts to giggle, the sound bouncing around his ribs. "I know. It's a little embarrassing to admit—" She cuts herself off with a high-pitched gasp once she feels his fingers pluck at the hem of her shorts, his eyes trained on hers.

"Is this okay?" He is itching to rip them off, itching to see her tiny cotton boxers in tatters on the floor, a reminder for her once he left of how good he made her feel. How responsive she is. How he notices every goosebump on her skin, every hitch in her breath.

She nods.

When he pulls her boxers down, her hand flies to the one resting on her hip. She laces their fingers together, nervous about how literally naked she is in front of him. He simply let her take his hand, not phased by her nerves.

"Si beau," [So beautiful] he mutters, eyes trained on the apex of her thighs, mouth watering. "You're so beautiful, Ariana." He then raises his eyes to hers, like he wants her to believe it.

She turns red. He simply repeats the sentence.

And then he dives between her thighs, ravishing her. Her head is thrown back, her fingers squeezing his. She tries to lock her legs around his head, the nudging of his tongue becoming overwhelming, but Harry simply pushes them back open with his elbows, eyes closed as he eats her out like he is starving.

She is whining and gasping, a coil in her belly appearing. "Harry, I can't—no one else has ever made me—please, H, ne t'arrête pas." [don't stop] She is babbling, her eyes shutting hard as he digs into her deeper.

When she releases, she swears she touched a star. Her eyes roll back, her fingers grip his hair so tight she is afraid she is hurting him, her legs tensing. He just moans into her, lapping all of her up until she is shaking from oversensitivity and pushing him away.

Only then does he climb up her body, kissing her with her release on his tongue, much gentler than he was before. Only then does he rub circles on her outer thigh, shushing her with soothing French nonsense.

"See? Now you'll never go back to those boys. You've graduated from my masterclass, mademoiselle." [missy] He teases, pushing her hair from her face.

Ariana rolls her eyes, pushing herself to sit up. "I think my legs are jelly," she frowns, trying to lean over and grab her boxers, but failing.

Harry retrieves them for her, even sliding them up her legs and over her stomach. "You really are beautiful, Ari. I didn't just say that in the heat of the moment,"

Her stomach flips. But you don't want a relationship, she reminds herself. You're just a flirt. But flirt or not, she can't get enough of him.

"Well, I really do think you should be in the Louvre," she smiles when he leans down to give her another kiss.

—

Ariana nudges at her eggs, stealthily checking her phone. 10:18 AM. She has an hour and twelve minutes until her class starts, but she knows Hannah will drink up her time greedily.

"—But Kian kept telling me my hair looked brown, and it was pissing me off! Like, as the best-rated hair stylist in the upper west side, he should know not to insult an ashy blonde like that." Hannah rants, throwing her arms up in annoyance as her barely touched avocado toast sits diagonal to her cappuccino.

They decided to talk things out.

Well, Ariana decided to. After Harry left last night (only after Ariana made him promise to get an Uber and collect his car the next morning), she decided to text Hannah. She knows Harry won't be long-term, she knows it will end up in flames, so she needs something constant. Even if the constant is Hannah's complaining and Ariana's internal eye rolls.

Now they are back to normal. "I don't think he was trying to be rude, though," Ariana counters, her mind wandering as she refutes Hannah's statement.

Maybe she should lie, and say her class starts early. Maybe she should cuss Hannah out in French again—it seemed to work the first time. Or maybe, the most likely option, she should sit in silence, trying to parcel out her relationships with dissatisfaction lingering in her mind. Dissatisfaction that she clings onto Hannah, or pretends to be loose and spontaneous with Harry.

Just be malleable, she reminds herself. People like being close to their reflections.

—

The texting started Monday afternoon.

Then fell into Tuesday, which led into Wednesday.

Then, they upgraded to calls.

"I think I'm free tonight. Just come over," Ariana surprises herself with how lenient she is being, inviting Harry over on a weeknight.

"I'll bring pizza. I'm ravenous after fixing cars all day," she can hear his douchey smile.

Ariana gulps. "Sounds good,"

"À bientôt," [See you soon]

Turns out, it was soon.

She is in ratty jeans and a hoodie from painting in her bedroom, her hair tied back messily and her face freshly washed when she answers the door. A smile climbs onto her lips as she invites Harry inside, his sneakers squeaking against the old wooden floor as he steps in.

"It's fucking freezing in here," are his first words to her.

"I have fuzzy blankets," she offers, though turns into his chest when he decides to surprise her with a one-handed greeting hug, the other hovering over her back while balancing a box of pizza.

She returns it with a delighted grin stretched across her cheeks, her head tilted up to meet his eyes. They sparkle like even his irises are excited to see her.

Following her to the living room, he opens the box on the coffee table and leans back on the overstuffed sofa, kicking off his shoes and running a hand through his curls tiredly. "How was your day, amour?" He asks, his head falling back into a beige throw pillow.

Ariana perches herself beside him, leaning over to grab a slice of pizza. Olive—somehow he chose the perfect topping for her without asking or discussing this beforehand. He just seems to know.

"Alright. I'm pretty behind on a few essays, but I hit writer's block." She shrugs, pushing a stray piece of hair that fell from the loose ponytail behind her ear. "Fix any cars today?" She has a teasing lilt in her voice.

Harry smiles. "I did. Can I read one of your papers?" He peers at her laptop, which is haphazardly thrown onto one of the cushions. "Is it gonna be, like, a manifesto of your dark fantasies? Do you write erotica? Holy fuck, is it with a centaur and a mermaid? You freak!" He gasps, speaking so quickly there is no point in Ariana interjecting.

She simply rolls her eyes, smacking his shoulder playfully. "You'd love that, wouldn't you?" Her eyes crinkle in laughter as he nods excessively. "No, it's pretty boring. I don't think you want to read my review of the Titanic. The book, obviously,"

Harry scoffs. "On the contrary. If the writer's this hot, I'd read anything,"

She rolls her eyes once more but picks up her laptop. He moves closer to her, their thighs pressed together. She ignores the fluttering in her belly and his breath on her neck as she types in her password. He is so close, he must know what he's doing. He is touching her, and any touch from Harry lights her up like Central Park during Christmas time.

Then, horror strikes.

Pulled up on her screen in large font is the introduction to a dating profile website.

"Oh my God, Ari! You're on Tinder? You little minx!" Harry gasps dramatically, prying the laptop from her hands before she can snatch it away.

Her cheeks turn red, her hands reaching for the computer in an attempt to snap it shut before he digs deeper. It's not like she has filled anything out yet—she is admittedly horrible at all things related to finding photos of herself or hyping herself up. "I was just thinking of joining. I know dating apps are mostly for hookups, and—"

"—and you have me for that," Harry interrupts, finishing her sentence. "So you actually wanna find a date, yeah? I can help," he looks over at her, smirking knowingly. He knows he has her flustered and a puddle at his feet, but he can't help it. He loves watching the pretty blush bloom over her face and her eyes widen in surprise at his bluntness.

They were opposites, which Harry knew. But if anything, it made him more attracted to her. He wanted to see how far she'd let him push her, the side of her she never let anyone see. He scratched at the surface, but he needed more. He was thirsty.

She nods pliantly. "C'mere. Are your photos linked to your computer? I wanna choose them for you," he rests the laptop on his thighs, letting Ariana tuck herself into his side, eyes trained on the screen curiously.

He clicks upload pictures and expands the screen, perusing through her camera roll. Most photos are of cats she found littering the streets or excerpts from books she found endearing or heart-wrenching. There are a few drunken selfies of her and Hannah and some photos she forced Niall to take for her as well. "Why not that one?" She frowns, and Harry stops scrolling.

It is a picture of her and Hannah grinning widely outside the club they were waiting to get into, Ariana's mini dress high up her thighs, her head resting on Hannah's shoulder with one foot on the brick wall behind her.

"Is that the night I met you?" He asks, noticing the same black dress with a pink bow, the same stick-straight hairstyle with smokey eyeliner. She nods absently, looking up at him for his approval. "You're so pretty. This can be, like, the fourth picture, though. You don't want Hannah in a lot of them 'cause you guys look like sisters and guys have weird fetishes about sisters."

Ariana narrows her eyes. "Ew, Harry! Maybe this is a mistake," she groans, slumping into his body. She is exhausted from her day, the pizza sitting untouched in her hand beginning to wilt downwards.

"Well, obviously no guy on a dating app is good enough for you, but it's good practice. Plus, you're gonna get a million likes because you're probably the hottest person on this app and I'm gonna get jealous as fuck." Harry says honestly, not even looking up from the laptop at his brazen, confident comment.

She blushes hard. "Jealous?" She asks, furrowing her brow. Jealousy would infer they have any sort of romantic relationship, and it's clear Harry doesn't want that.

"You're a catch, Ari. You know that, right?" He finally rips his gaze away from the screen just to stare at her with the same intensity. She almost wishes he was still distracted, because she is sure if her face burns any redder she'll be in danger of catching on fire. "If I didn't think marriage was hellfire I'd propose."

Yeah, she thinks, her heart beating rapidly at his confession, this is going to sting.

She nods slowly. He returns back to perusing her albums, and they sit in comfortable silence as he does so, highlighting a few pictures, and sneaking a few bites of her slice of pizza.

Until he immediately freezes, and Ariana looks away from her phone she picks up just a moment before responding to Niall and Hannah. She peeks at the screen, immediately burying her face in Harry's shoulder when she sees what is pulled up.

It is a photo she took a month prior, natural light streaming through her bedroom windows in the crest of the morning sun. In the top corner, her lips are parted to show just a fraction of her teeth, and her back is arched.

The main focus of the photo, however, is her deep red, puffy mesh panties. The hem bunches lettuce-style, and the mesh is just see-through enough to see her milky skin in a rose-tinted haze. The white cotton tank she is wearing just barely covers her breasts, with the straps falling down her shoulders, her nipples peeking through the thin, almost transparent material. Her legs are bent at the knees, slightly parted to show a wet patch forming at the apex of her thighs.

"I forgot I took that," is all she managed to say when the silence became awkward.

"Are you real?" He answers, turning to look at her. "Because I swear I had a dream that looked exactly like you. I mean, you're fucking perfect. And you're so sweet and your heart is so fucking pure, you actually can't be real. It wouldn't be fair,"

He's gushing, words tumbling from his lips before his brain processes them. "And you kiss like an angel, I haven't been able to stop thinking about your lips. And your tattoos are just—"

Ariana lurches forward, capturing his babbling mouth in hers. Immediately, he pushes the computer away and brings her into his lap, his hands tugging at her belt loops before sliding up her sweatshirt to warm her back.

When she pulls away, she is out of breath. The kiss is short and wild, but Harry doesn't seem to mind.

"Is that how I'm supposed to kiss my Tinder date?" She asks through fluttered eyelids and a lip bite. For once, she left him speechless with red cheeks and wide, blinking eyes. She feels so accomplished, her chest puffing in pride as she cements her words with the hem of her sweatshirt hiking up her belly to show a fraction of tanned skin.

He frowns. "No. That type is just for me," he finally responds.

She laughs, light and airy. She isn't familiar with this Ariana; the Ariana that moves without worry and kisses with no forewarning. The Ariana whose skirts are too short and lipstick too bold. This is the Ariana Harry draws out of her—maybe it is smart to be friends with benefits. That way, she wouldn't lose him to a fight or a tear-filled breakup. That way, they'd stay happy and platonic (or, as platonic as you could get with that mouth of his).

This Ariana also spoke up. "That was my friendly kiss," she teases.

Harry blows out a long breath. "I can't even imagine the Tinder date kiss then." He blinks away the shock from his eyes before grabbing her hips and flipping her so her back is against his chest. She sinks into his arms, pulling the computer into her lap as they look at more photos.

It feels a bit backward, sitting in one man's arms while creating a dating profile to meet other men, but she doesn't care. She will enjoy her time with Harry now, in case she won't feel this way ever again.

"Why'd you leave France?"

The question is out of the blue. Ariana just finished filling out her nationality and hometown, and Harry seems to be intrigued.

She shrugs, though won't look back to meet his gaze. "Better opportunities in America," she says simply, and doesn't elaborate.

"But you were so young," he presses for more detail, his hands squeezing her hips in a silent urge to meet his eyes. She won't.

"My parents kinda shipped me away through a school program. And then I stopped coming home for summers and started living with Hannah once my mom got pregnant. The move was slow, I don't know for sure when I started calling New York home." Ariana says vaguely.

It falls silent for another few beats, but more words are piling up on Ariana's tongue, and Harry's smooth fingers rubbing against the bare skin of her hip are coaxing them out of her.

"Well, actually I do know," her voice wavers. "I wanted to go to France for Christmas break, but my parents told me they couldn't afford my ticket home. Or my schooling. Or my boarding. They said they had two new children and needed to supply their real kids with money. With my money," she feels tears prick her eyes, but pushes them down.

When she is certain none would fall, she turns to face Harry, once more abandoning their quest to make a dating profile.

"I kinda knew then I wasn't welcome anymore. They told me I could come home, but I'd have to stay in a hotel because they refurbished my room with nursery stuff. I decided not to go home, and they mailed the rest of my belongings a week later. I didn't have any money, so Hannah spotted me for a bit.

"And that's why I'm still friends with her, even though she treats me shitty and is not at all the same girl that held my hand in middle school." She finishes. She knows she doesn't have to explain anything to Harry and their relationship consists of light-hearted conversation and casual make-out sessions, but she wants to.

She hasn't ever admitted Hannah has changed before, or really that her family replaced her with two chaotic younger siblings she has only met a handful of times. But he makes her feel seen and heard, even if he never speaks—so she allows herself to slip up just this once.

Harry wraps his arms around her, slowly at first, until he engulfs her in his lean arms, muscles flexing around her body. "You're the coolest girl ever," he hums into her ear. She decided that was the best compliment Harry could dish out, and simply thanked him quietly as she let him hold her. "And Hannah doesn't deserve to be friends with such a cool girl." He pulls back, his hands sliding to her thighs.

It is just then that her eyes flicker to his lips and his gaze glosses over that Harry's phone rings.

It is loud and piercing, startling Ariana off him. It is probably good not to be so close to Harry anyway—the familiar sandalwood scent of his cologne begins to have Ariana's belly fluttering at the mere thought of it.

"Niall, I'm with Ariana. I don't think she wants her house smelling like weed—no, there's pizza here! I'm not abandoning pizza to sit in the snow with you—fuck you, weirdo," Harry pulls the phone away from his ear to turn to Ariana. "Can Niall come over? He says he's not bringing a joint but I don't believe him,"

Ariana's laugh bubbles gleefully from her throat, a nod surfacing. "He can smoke here, I don't care," she then adds.

"Can we all share a blanket? I wanna feel like the grandparents in that Willy Wonka movie," Niall asks, tugging the blanket that was wrapped around Ariana's body undone.

She is lounging between her (new) two favorite people as they pass a joint over her head, taking hits and laughing at dumb comments the other made. "We're not all gonna fit," Ariana points out as both the boys struggle to pull each end of the forest green throw over their bodies.

"Just sit closer to me. I don't bite," Harry teases, eyes glinting mischievously.

Ariana scoffs. "I can't sit closer to you, I'll be on your lap." She points out, and Harry hums knowingly.

"If the shoe fits..." he winces for her slap before it comes.

The bickering is interrupted by Niall, who is now reaching for Ariana's phone that sitting on the coffee table under a layer of pizza grease. He is cursing, trying to guess her password. "Niall! What are you doing?" Her tone is almost motherly, causing Harry to snort from behind her.

"Why are you getting messages for Nahir saying 'I want to taste you'? Oh my God, Ryan said he wants your babies!"

"Harry!" She feels like she is chastising children. "Did you hack my dating profile?"

Harry frowns, the air of playfulness gone and replaced with annoyance. "I thought I chose good guys. Why are they so creepy? I'm sorry, Ari, I told you you're too good for dating apps." He snatches the phone from Niall, scrolling through likes and explicit messages.

Ariana, though, is now red-faced and embarrassed. "Why do guys only think about one thing?" She groans, dropping back onto the sofa. Her hands are folded against her stomach, and she avoids eye contact with either of them. It's a rhetorical question, and she won't be able to listen to not everyone thinks that Ari, you just need to find your person.

Instead, Harry puts his hand on her knee, which is pulled up to her chest. Niall holds her hand in his. "'Cause we're assholes," Niall is focused on the screen, though his thumb is rubbing soothing circles against the top of her hand. "And you're kind of a princess. Or something. Like the badass kind, though, that has a lot of cool hats."

Ariana turns to Harry quizzically, almost as if saying what the fuck is he talking about?

Harry just shrugs. Who knows? His eyes reply.

"Thanks, Niall. You know how I feel about a good fedora,"

part one

#harry styles #harry styles love on tour #lana del rey #commitment lost #toujours #harry styles series #harry styles fanfic rec #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry #harry smut

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blacklegsanjiii · 9 months ago

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idk man i don't ship mihawk with anyone really but this golden/hancock sanji au got me. Also yeah there's an age gape, Boa and Mihawk are like 14 and halfish years apart. It's not as weird as her and Luffy though I PROMISE. It is long, it's a basically a halfassed start of a fic idk man.

Mihawk's snail goes off and he's been neglecting his warlord duties since Sanji came along so he answers as he holds the sleeping child. Boa is apparently stranded very close by so he wakes Sanji and says he has to go get someone and for Sanji to stay inside. He goes and gets Boa who frowns as her boat sinks and she whines like any eighteen year old princess would.

They get to Kuriagana and he takes her to the denden so she can call someone to come get her properly and take her back to Amazon Lily. She comes out of Mihawk's office and sees him talking quietly to Sanji, he's knelt down to talk to small boy sans his trademark hat and coat and Boa has never experienced attraction before but she thinks 'huh, that's cute, he's handsome, i see why people think that' and goes to introduce herself.

Boa opens her mouth and stops when she sees that curled eyebrow and instead of introducing herself she looks between Sanji and Mihawk and is wavering heavily. Sanji instantly sees she recognizes him and freezes.

"Is there something wrong?" Mihawk asks her as he looks between the two of them.

"Hawkeye," Boa breathes, "did you kidnap the dead prince of Germa?"

"The what?" Mihawk asks with shock, which is the first emotion outside of boredom she's seen the man emote. "I got Sanji from a rock." Mihawk says as Sanji is about to have a full blown panic attack.

"He was claimed to be dead like three years ago! How did you not know?" Boa demands as she pulls Sanji to her and his breathing starts getting rough.

"I've only had him some months, Princess, let him go. He's going into a panic attack." Mihawk demands and Boa glares but releases him and Mihawk picks Sanji up and stands. His glare is harsh as he leaves her standing there to go calm Sanji down. Boa finds them after a while and Sanji is asleep on Mihawk who is reading.

"I apologize for my insensitivity to you, Hawkeye," Boa starts, "how did you get him though, really?"

"I wasn't lying, Redleg can corroborate." Mihawk answers.

"Sure. Let's say you're not lying. Why does he look like that?" Boa asks.

"You said he died three years ago, yes? Then he hasn't been fed properly for those years, maybe even before that. It's something I've been working on." Mihawk hums as he puts his book down to look at her properly.

"He didn't tell you?" Boa huffs in disbelief.

"No," Mihawk sighs, "he didn't." That, that makes Boa's heart ache for some reason.

Boa has to stay a couple days until someone can come get her so she gets to watch Mihawk and Sanji together. She watches Mihawk have emotions and smile, he smiles at Sanji and Boa gets why people say he's attractive but they haven't seen that. That is dangerous and Boa leaves every time she sees it and comes back when she's calmed down. Mihawk absolutely notices and absolutely exploits this, he's a pirate, it's expected. He makes Boa promise Sanji not to tell anyone about him. Sanji's relief is palpable which makes Boa coo at him and Sanji stare at the affection she's showing him because it's a new kind. Mihawk pats his head and assures him it's alright.

When Boa is leaving she and Mihawk are talking and Mihawk off handedly is like 'maybe when you're twenty.' with a smirk and Boa is flustered and trying not to show it because she's from Amazon Lily and is supposed to not really be swayed by men, but here she is. Red faced and stuttering and asks how he can do that to her and he shrugs and says he honestly expects to have to fend off her forces now.

"When I'm twenty?" She double checks.

"Maybe." Mihawk shrugs with that same fucking smirk and Boa is so frustrated when she leaves Mihawk is pretty sure he's going to have to go to war with a whole damned country. He laughs when Sanji asks why she was mad at him and Mihawk admits to teasing her a lot, an unnecessarily high amount of teasing. Sanji asks if he was flirting and Mihawk admits he did a bit of that as well with a chuckle as he holds his son close. Sanji looks at him with disgust which makes him lose it completely and laugh into his son's hair.

Boa makes a habit to talk to Mihawk and try to get him to emote at warlord meetings which everyone thinks is weird except him. He keeps looking at her expectantly and cocks a brow. He doesn't attend most of them, the government lets it slide based on his status as the world's greatest swordsman and how much work he does actually do for them, so when he does she makes the most of it.

Afterwards, when they're in private she asks about Sanji and how he's doing and Mihawk answers and invites her back to Kuraigana at her leisure. She eventually takes him up on it to his surprise, so she follows him to Kuraigana. It's a rare sunny day when they arrive and Mihawk helps her onto land and then ties their boats and leads her to the castle. Sanji is looking at them through a window and Boa waves excitedly to him. It may have been almost a year but she still coos at him as Sanji looks at her warily. He's scooped easily into Mihawk's arms who tells him Boa will be staying a few days again.

Sanji mumbles his acknowledgement as they head to the kitchen to start cooking. Boa watches the duo who are remarkably close, a true father and son relationship. She watches Mihawk guide Sanji through a recipe and it sounds amazing, smells amazing, she is drooling as they plate up what they've made and serve it. It tastes really good too, amazing, better than what they make on Amazon Lily and says such. They thank her and Boa tries to make more conversation with Sanji.

Who is not talkative but does seem to warm up to her more especially since she doesn't ask about Germa or anything of the like. Later after Sanji is put to bed Boa leans over the arm of the chaise and looks at Mihawk as he enters the library with a look of intrigue.

"Yes, Princess?" He asks as he sits in a chair near by.

"Has he told you anything else?" Boa asks as he grabs a book.

"Not much, but he has." Mihawk answers slowly, looking at her properly. "Seeing as he was on a cruise liner working for a year I think it's safe to say I will kill the king of Germa."

"He's so sweet, it's weird to think he's one of them." Boa huffs.

"I would argue he's not. He doesn't claim them and they proclaim he's dead. I think it is safe to assume the Vinsmokes would rather he actually be dead." Mihawk responds and Boa hums.

"He's lucky to have you." She says after a moment.

"I'm just as lucky." Mihawk says quietly. Boa looks him over and hums again but Mihawk opens his book and reads. Boa huffs indignantly at him as he chuckles to himself.

#dracule mihawk #hawkeye mihawk #boa hancock #hancock boa #golden!sanji #hancock!sanji #black leg sanji #vinsmoke sanji #mihawk x boa #dracule mihawk x boa hancock #brain worms #single dad!mihawk

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jasminedragonart · 1 year ago

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Thoughts about the impact jK Rowling has had on the female character:

I think it's fair to say that we have a long way to go in media and literature to achieve a steady basis of good female characters. That's not to say there's none, but the bad does outweigh the good. The thing is, it is getting better. These days when we look at media we can find a lot of well written female characters. Tina, Louise and Linda Belcher. Star Butterfly and Mabel Pines. Nadja of Antipaxos. These are just a few characters I thoroughly enjoy watching on screen and the reason for this is because they're relatable to me. I sometimes sing to myself like Linda, I've found myself writing fan fiction like Tina. I've had that moment like Louise where I stood there as a child and wondered why others around me don't like the things I do. I'm flawed like Mabel and I like cute things like Star.

All of these women above are women. They're feminine. They allow themselves to embrace everything that makes them who they are and yes there are struggles but they're not standing there telling me they're modernising what it means to be a woman. They're women and I like them.

Characters like these have been hard won. We've legitimately struggled to get them here and every year it's getting harder and harder to keep women like these on screen. The reason behind this, I kind of blame a lot on the impact Harry Potter had not just on media but what it means to be a woman.

Has anyone else heard the phrase 'Be a hermione in a world full of princesses?' Does anyone see how toxic this is? Does anyone else not see the problem JK has created by her series getting popular? A problem she hasn't and doesn't want to address because she doesn't realise the problems in her own books.

Hermione was a breakthrough character in children's media. By that, I mean that people finally saw the bookish girl as holding value in a narrative beyond what she had been before (maybe annoying. Maybe just a side character. Never a main character or love interest.- except no, that's wrong. we had lisa Simpson way before Hermione...

Lisa is more nuanced though. I enjoy Lisa because she's very self aware and does try and improve herself even if she's doomed to love in a sitcom she can't escape her role from.

Back to Hermione. Hermione was new to children at least. She showed kids there was value in reading and learning. But, in all honesty, how much is Hermione's popularity down to Emma Watson's portrayal of her and how much is it down to the character of Hermione.

Movie Hermione is very watered down. In fact she's given a lot of Ron's lines which makes her more impactful and Ron further into the shadow of the comedic best friend. Emma Watson is very pretty too. Even as a child she looked a lot like how a lot of prettier girls in my class looked. Her hair was the only thing that made her an outcast. But even then, this was the early 2,000s. Do you know how many kids my age came to school with Hermione's hair? They brushed those curls out until they were dead. No one knew about the curly girl method in primary. The point is, Hermione is different on screen than in the books. she's pretty, she's emotional, shes more nuanced than she is in the books and I applaud the movies for doing this to Hermione because it did make her more likeable.

That's the thing though. More likeable. In the books Hermione is not a likeable character to a lot of people. She would have been the know it all in class that reminded the teacher they had homework. Yes, she did some good things, she spoke up about the house elves, she saved Harry's life a few times but her character, in my opinion, got worse as the books went on. She remained very consistent. there wasn't a lot of change to her character. She didn't seem to grow because she didn't have to.

Worse. she was elevated.

I don't know if anyone else caught the horrific misogyny in these books but I did and it infuriates me.

JK makes a point of elevating Hermione. Hermione is always right. Hermione will always win. Hermione is the standard we should hold other females to, and I know for a fact it's because her popularity increased as the movies were brought out.

If we look at the other female characters in comparison to Hermione I honestly hate it. Mainly because Hermione is elevated to a point where she isnt feminine. If you show any femininity in those books you're villainised.

Don't believe me?

What colour does Umbridge wear? Pink. What is her favourite animal? A cat. She likes sweet things and lace. Shes everything we've come to know about women but she's twisted inside so we can't like these things. we turn against these things because Hermione doesn't wear pink. she wears blue like at the yule ball. she's almost masculine in her appearance so we don't associate her with natural beauty.

Lavender. Girly girl. Just wants a boyfriend because all girls at that age are boy crazy. She's a very supportive girl. Its turned to clinginess. Something hermione is not. In fact she keeps ron at such a distance I didn't even know they would end up together until the last book. the movies made it more obvious, they did their best with it. But the books didn't.

Cho Chang. Cries a lot. Emotional. Doesn't matter that she's grieving and was forced to give up the location due to a potion. No, she's villainised so Ginny can have a sudden romance with harry that again came out of nowhere.

Luna escapes this thankfully. Only because she's too weird for us to consider her having romantic notions. she doesn't have to be put down or twisted to make way for someone else.

Jk made a whole generation of girls hate anything girly. They turned away from pink. They would rather pick up a book than do their make up. Their interest in Hermione and rejecting femininity is the reason we have so many bad female heroines these days.

My question to jk is why? Why couldn't a girl like make up and reading? Why is it one or the other? Why must we reject the pleasures of being dainty and liking cute and fun things in order to be a good woman? Why couldn't we have a character like Louise? Louise is very much a tom boy. But you know what? Louise wears a dress and bunny ears, pink bunny ears, every day of her life because the writers of that show understood a female character. Louise loves smashing mirrors. She also loves Boo Boo. She doesn't like pixies but she still likes wearing a dress.

For years the girly girls of this world had to put up with characters like Hermione being paraded in front of them and told that they themselves were being bad women because they liked pink. Because they liked cats and boys. It wasn't right. And we really need to ask the question on why JK thought to put women down like this in her books when she herself is- apparently- such a protector on what it means to be a woman.

I spy some internal misogyny. I spy a lot of things and theres probably more i could say but it's late, I'm tired and my phone keeps smashing my words together so I need to stop typing.

This is just my opinion. You don't have to agree. This is just the experience I've had growing up in a world where these books shaped a lot of my childhood. I probably would have explored dresses and brighter colours faster if I wasn't told by a fictional character and the grip she had on me and my femininity that pink is bad. That being a girl is bad.

#hermione granger #harry potter

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onbearfeet · 6 months ago

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As requested, here are a few Monster Mash asks based on the "oc asks: not-so-nice edition" list. You decide which characters they're for.

What is a surprising thing your character hides?

What does your character do when they should be sleeping but can't?

What's the worst wound your character has experienced? It can be physical or emotional.

Mwahahahahahaaaaaaa. I think I'll do multiple characters. WARNING: There's mature content in this one, and it's not just canon-typical violence. See the tags if you're worried.

What is a surprising thing your character hides?

Ted has a really beautiful singing voice, even in Man-Thing form. He no longer has the physical equipment to form words in any human language, though, so he's sensitive about it and doesn't let on that he still enjoys singing. But he's sung more than a few lullabies to Jack when he's been asleep or in a coma or whatever. And Alpine gets funny little children's melodies or goofy love songs when it's just the two of them. She accepts this as no less than the worship she deserves, of course.

Elsa is shockingly generous and tells no one but her accountant about it. She inherited an absolutely stupid amount of money from her father's estate, and she IMMEDIATELY stopped using his fortune to fund his "crusade", so she's essentially sitting on a dragon's hoard. She took almost nothing with her when she ran away, so she's lived poor for most of her adult life and is deeply sympathetic to other people in that situation, not that she'll admit it. She had her finance pro shut down the murder-cult fund and set up a clean new fund to support whatever charity she damn well pleases. She's still trying to think of ideas and will probably ask the boys eventually, but just for a start, every public library in the state got a healthy donation, and every shelter she stayed in that treated its inhabitants halfway decently got a bigger one. She's also looking into funding--founding, if she has to--an organization defending the rights and interests of homeschooled children, especially those in high-control environments. Elsa was homeschooled for much of her education according to Ulysses' rather eccentric tastes, and she had to teach herself an awful lot of actual education out of the library. And that's before all the trouble she had as a non-emancipated minor who didn't have her own copies of her identity documents.

God, what DOESN'T Jack hide? He's been alive long enough that there's a huge gray zone of stuff he might have failed to mention because he doesn't want people to know OR because it just never came up. He obviously hasn't discussed his family of origin in detail, at least not with Elsa or Bucky, but I don't consider that surprising. I'm tempted to say his hidden side is something sweet and wholesome, but that's not surprising either. If I said he was hiding something terrible he or the wolf had done, that probably wouldn't surprise most people at all. If I had to guess ... the only SURPRISING thing I can think of is his spirituality, which is complex and deeply personal to him. His family might have been Orthodox, but he's got a lot of Catholic guilt written all over him, and the curse only complicates that more. I don't think he's talked to anyone about what he does or doesn't believe in a hundred years or more. He certainly hasn't talked to me.

Bucky was a sex worker in a time-displaced brothel. Okay, that's both a joke AND an oversimplification, but the first thing I thought of when I saw this question was that Bucky had the same problem as Jack: old, complicated, obviously full of both good traits and horrible trauma so nothing is SURPRISING. Then I remembered that around 2016, I handwrote a story establishing that Bucky had worked for a while as an artist at Lady Sally's. If you've never read Spider Robinson's Callahan books, they're a series of short SF stories and novels centered on a bar run by (spoiler alert) a time traveler who's trying to save the world retroactively by preventing the Cold War from going hot. They are brilliant and hilarious and they formed me as a person. There is also a spin-off series focusing on Callahan's wife, Lady Sally McGee, who does the same thing but with a brothel. The reasoning is complex, but the stories are delightful and some of the first positive, sympathetic, relatively clear-eyed depictions of sex workers (or artists, as they're called here and who am I to disagree?) I ever encountered. So it is my headcanon that young Bucky Barnes started washing dishes at Lady Sally's as a teenager, and she kept an eye on the kid because he had a lot of history ahead of him. He worked as an artist for at least a year before the war, not least because it was the only job in the late 30s that paid well enough to let him afford Steve's medicines. (Sally was keeping an eye on Buck's "roommate", too.) Bucky never told Steve, but he was actually quite a talented and popular artist, and he liked working there. He gave notice when he and Steve finally admitted their feelings for each other, wanting to be monogamous with the man he loved, but Sally insisted he come to her if he or Steve ever needed anything in the future, and she slipped him money from time to time via his former coworkers--who, as far as Steve knew, were just girls Bucky dated to keep up appearances. The connection came in handy, too, when the Winter Soldier was sent to kill a man at Lady Sally's and the staff were able to send him away again thanks to his half-remembered connection to the place. Lady Sally's is closed in our time, but you never know when Bucky might get a phone call from the Lady.

What does your character do when they should be sleeping but can't? I'll leave Ted out of this one on the grounds that his biology is different enough that "should be sleeping" may not apply.

So, on a sleepless night at Bloodstone Manor? Jack bakes. He's got access to a well-stocked kitchen now, anything he makes WILL get eaten, and baking is less likely to wake anyone else than playing his guitar or running endless zoomie laps. He also feels a little better when he can do something kind (and profoundly human) out of his emotional turmoil. Helping people helps Jack, and if there are no monsters to rescue or curses to break, he can at least make sure his people have something delicious for breakfast. (Or a midnight snack. Let's face it, somebody else will wake up from a nightmare in an hour.)

Elsa is currently the queen of maladaptive coping mechanisms. She's cut down on drinking since the boys moved in, much to everyone's relief, but she's still in rough shape emotionally. Although she sleeps better than the others thanks to her sleep-anywhere hunter training, she does occasionally have nights when her brain won't shut up, and her solution to that is to run herself into the ground. She'll hit the dojo for as many hours as it takes, usually. Bucky is trying to coax her into something less destructive in his unique sergeant-y way. The sentence "Your magic rock is not an excuse to bust your knuckles again, so wear some damn gloves!" has been uttered.

Bucky is actually the best adjusted on this front, mostly because his sleep disturbances are the worst. (Jack has more traumatic memories overall. Bucky’s are more concentrated, and he's had to heal brain damage on top of it.) Thanks to his time in Wakanda, he's learned some basic meditation techniques and some therapy exercises to help himself calm down a little. Alpine has some kind of extra sense for when Bucky is in distress, so on the rare occasion she's not already in bed with him when he wakes up screaming, she'll come running in immediately. He usually ends up either curled around her, doing breathing exercises, or settling down in bed with a book while she purrs on his chest until the tension finally melts out of him. Bucky isn't healed by any stretch of the imagination, but by God he's trying.

What's the worst wound your character has experienced? It can be physical or emotional.

Ted Sallis died of his injuries from a horrific accident, drowning in a swamp while his super-soldier serum burned him from the inside out after the so-called love of his life betrayed him. That's the worst for him. Only Jack knows about it, and even he doesn't know it all. Nothing else comes close.

Jack is pretty good at toughing out physical pain by now, so his worst wounds are definitely emotional. I think the worst one was finding out that his sister, Lissa, had died. It was a natural death, but he didn't find out until years later, and she was his last connection to who he was before the wolf. The wound has never fully healed.

Elsa's worst wound is what she told Bucky about in "Bucky Meets the Legion of Monsters": realizing that the monsters she'd been hunting, even without her father's input, had mostly been people. That's an identity-shattering experience that has fundamentally changed her.

Bucky’s worst physical wound was losing his arm. His worst emotional wound was either when he realized Steve wasn't coming to save him from Hydra a second time or when he realized Steve wasn't coming back from his time jaunt. Bucky is profoundly loyal and loving, and he is constantly disappointed by other people's failure to meet him where he is. Thus, he doesn't trust easily, but Steve has always had Bucky’s entire heart, and Steve's broken it twice now. It wasn't intentional the first time and we don't yet know what happened the second, but like Jack, Bucky is walking around with an unhealed wound in his soul. If Steve ever reappears in Bucky’s life, there will be Consequences. Even if Bucky will always forgive Steve and would take him back without hesitation, the rest of the squad will have serious concerns about a fella who'd abandon Bucky Barnes two whole times.

#werewolf by night #bucky barnes #jack russell #ted sallis #elsa bloodstone #alpine the cat #monster mash #lady sally mcgee #callahan's crosstime saloon #one of the books is called Lady Slings The Booze #how can you not love that #ask game #man thing #cw sex mention #cw discussion of sex work

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pricemarshfield · 4 months ago

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Writer Interview Game

thank you for the tag @wetcatspellcaster! honestly just this morning was talking about writing and inspiration and motivation so it was super cool to get to dive in-depth with this :) under the cut because uhhh i am chatty as all hell <3

tagging @reallyhatethiswebsite @goldfyshie927 @prettyaveragewhiteshark @pouralaura @atrueneutral @bravestworriers AND anyone else who'd like to! as always, no pressure :)

When did you start writing?

i genuinely have been writing so long that i don't remember when i started. i have distinct memories of being 6 and writing about my oc who was a babylonian priestess raised by alligators and living in antarctica in a compound full of animals, and despite being babylonian she was named athena. honestly a baller concept for me at 6 years old, i kinda still fuck with it (though i'd tweak some things. world-build a little more. probably rename her. read more than one encyclopedia page about mesopotamia)

i wrote a LOT of original stuff (read: knockoffs of whatever novels i'd read at the time) and a bit of fanfiction as a tween, got into a phase where i hated and deleted all of it and wrote WAY less as a teen, and then jumped back into fanfic with requests from my high school friend group and haven't stopped since. even when my posting has slowed, my writing hasn't; i just waffle between "post a chapter as soon as it's done" and "wait until the fic is finished and fully edited before i post a word of it". the former approach definitely works better for me because otherwise it languishes in my drafts forever (i'm sorry pricemarsh longfic. one day i will muster up the motivation to finish you).

i write Some original stuff, but more short stories than longform things. actually someone yell at me to post my molly drew backstory thing because it's one of the best things i've written in years AND fully original! (well. project zomboid. fanfic gray area but it's basically a stand-alone zombie thing, it doesn't pull from the game's lore because i don't know it lmao)

Are there different themes or genres you enjoy reading than what you write?

hm...i think i read a long more long genfics than i've written or attempted to write, which is funny because longer genfics are definitely some of the best things i've written and that have resulted in the Nicest comments and response i've ever gotten. (the only fic i've ever joined a server and had someone go "i've read this and i loved it" is a 30k genfic, and also is my magnus opus). also, i read MUCH more original fiction stuff than i write these days, even if i DO have a lot of oc ideas these days.

i'm not sure why! i don't think it's coming from a concern of lack of interest...compelled as i am by platonic dynamics, i think i just have more fun writing shippy stuff. also i write a lot of smut, so there's that. thinking about it, there mayyy be a level of spite in my not writing more original stuff, or at least not sharing it? my family is very annoying about the fact i write fic instead of original stuff, and that i am Not interested in being an author as my career. but that's a silly reason so maybe i'll hype myself up about my original stuff more lol

Is there a writer you want to emulate or get compared to often?

not that i can think of? not unless i'm writing something in a very specific genre, anyway. when i wrote my noir au martian thing i was very specifically trying to emulate works from that genre but even then not Authors so much as Works and even then more movies than books...i think there are some fantastic authors (both published and fandom!) that i'm very inspired by and learn from but none that i'd point to as a Style To Emulate. but in terms of writers, both the person who tagged me and everyone i'm tagging have writing i love enough that it makes me want to work on my own stuff. all of y'all use words SO well.

again, not a style i'm trying to emulate BUT in terms of books that got me thinking about words and world-building and writing in such a way that i was inspired to Create (a VASTLY incomplete list): mexican gothic by silvia moreno-garcia, exercises in style by raymond queneau, 253 by geoff ryman, the haunting of hill house by shirley jackson, this is how you lose the time war by amal el-mohtar and max gladstone, the martian by andy weir, and in the dream house by carmen maria machado. ALSO READ MORE CLASSICS AND NONFICTION AND POETRY...get thinking about words in different ways even if it's not the genre you want to write because it WILL help your writing grow...this is getting so far away from the question oops

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

...the amount of fic i've written on my dinky old laptop, in bed at 2am, directly in the ao3 textbox is FAR more than the fic i've written in any other space. (no one should do this btw.) unfortunately i write most when i compelled by ideas at at a time i shouldn't be, and my laptop is convenient

What's your most effective way to muster up a muse?

stepping away. forcing writing puts me back in a mindset that'll burn me out Longterm, and i won't even be happy with the end result. writing and also any other creative endeavor isn't something to do on its own forever; if you're not inspired, go read something! play something! draw something if you write/write something if you draw! go on a hike! try and fail to learn to crochet!

on top of helping yourself decompress from writer's block and burnout (if you're dealing with either), i feel like the muse always comes easier when i give her space. sometimes she comes back with a vengeance and that's when i write at 2am (that's when most of talk was written, and it haunted me for MONTHS. MONTHSSS. so i guess also you can muster up the muse by being down bad for the devil)

Are there any recurring themes in your writing? Do they surprise you?

all my ocs are autistic women who mask (either well or poorly) and feel fundamentally not in line with the worlds in which they're living. which could mean nothing

but also i don't really think so! i try to very consciously write different genres and themes and ideas; i think i revisit the idea of two characters who are in some way opposed realizing they're more similar than they thought, or else finding compatibility In their differences maybe?? which isn't surprising but also i think indicates more a desire to build up a relationship as part of a plot rather than saying something about Me, Specifically

wait no i lied. in dnd and dnd-related fandoms specifically i write a LOT of stuff vis a vis divinity and expectations and the dichotomy of good/evil in the setting not necessarily matching with any sort of real-world morality/philosophy and the horror inherent to godhood (on both the side of the god and the follower.) i'm not a particularly religious person nor was i raised as such, so not sure Why, but it's very interesting to me!!

What is your reason for writing?

i want to read it and no one's gonna write it exactly like i will!! but also...it's fun. i like getting into a character's head. i like figuring out how to get from scene a to scene b in a way that doesn't take away from the narrative. i LOVE getting to see the ways a story can shift outside its outline (my outlines are very bare-bones, so this happens a lot). it's something that i enjoy and that i can share with people.

Is there any specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating?

any comment that shares something about my writing that either i was actively trying to do or that i didn't notice at all. the first is a delight because it means someone gets what i'm going for!! hell yes! and then the latter is a look at my writing through someone else's eyes which is just so so nice. either one feels like Connecting with people over my writing which is! the goal! so hell yes!

really though any comment that isn't "write more" is motivating to me. someone once left a keysmash and nothing else in the comment box and it motivated me to pick up another wip for the same pairing and write another chapter

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

i am a human being and not a content machine <3 this doesn't come up a lot anymore but i used to have to deal with a lot of asks and requests that would demand more fic even as all my posts were about the immense grief i was dealing with at the time lol.

but also i want to be seen as a person who can be approached! send me asks about what i've written, dm me, tell me about zines and fanweeks and things like that! i literally live with someone i met in a fandom space, fandom works best when it's a thing you share with people rather than a thing you Consume and expect Recognition for. (not that recognition is BAD, but like...see it as connection first and content second, ykwim? i also say this knowing i'm bad about reaching out first but. yeah. i'm working on it!)

slight tangent but you've already read this far so <3 i also feel like fandom these days has moved to more private spaces rather than public appreciation...like, how many fandom events get shared primarily in discord servers that a new fan might not know to join? how many people only get hyped up by people they've already talked with? how many people gush over a fic in a server and then never mention it to the author? i want to be approachable because i want to actually Engage with people without having to join 80 discord servers for different niche things and hope i find a place i vibe with. (nothing against discord specifically--anyone can ask for mine, and i met some dear friends that i'm tagging through a fan discord server, but i hate social connection in fandom being Limited to that.) okay tangent over

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

this is so specific lol but i think i'm really good at flow and sentence structure. like...i feel like i space out my sentences and paragraphs well to keep things from getting too jarring even while being wordy as all hell in a smut oneshot. (there's a reason my first tav is a bard multiclass with the sage background, and it's because neither of us can or will shut up <3)

How do you feel about your own writing?

honestly? pretty damn good. i'll still go through what every writer does where i reread my own stuff and think it sucks sometimes, but i think i've gotten to a place in my writing where i can enjoy it as it stands even if i notice something i'd edit differently. it helps that i've started writing a lot more SELF-indulgently rather than request-indulgently (though please do still send requests if you want! <3 i just mean that i'm not ONLY writing things for other people)

#i think this is longer than some fics i've written fjkldfjd sorry <3 i have a lot of thoughts #about me

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sodaabaa · 4 months ago

Text

silver eyes, part one

grayson hawthorne x OC

when tobias hawthorne is declared dead, one of his last wishes is for clare jones return to texas for the reading of his will. but when clare arrives, she does everything in her power to avoid grayson hawthorne, the hate of her life (hey, if the love of your life can be a thing, so can the hate of your life).

tw: spoilers for anyone who hasn't read the inheritance games, mentions of death.

a/n: i aged the characters up just a teensy bit – so at the start of the events of book 1 grayson is 19 here, OC is 18, jameson and avery are 18, etc… but the events of the past take place when grayson was 17/jameson 16 just to allow more time in between the past and the present. hope you all enjoy!

masterlist playlist

prologue

Tobias Hawthorne is dead. Clare read the letter again – it would be her sixth time reading the same four words over again, trying to put some kind of meaning to them.

Tobias Hawthorne is dead and he wants Clare to attend the reading of his will at the Hawthorne Estate? The old man had been a grandfather figure for her, her parents were both partners at McNamara, Ortega, and Jones (well one of them was the Jones in McNamara, Ortega and Jones) so Tobias Hawthorne had taken Clare under his wing along with his four grandsons. He had been good to her. He pushed her to be the best she could be -- always urging her to think faster, smarter, hone her skills. Without Tobias Hawthorne, she wouldn't be where she was today. So if Mr. Hawthorne wanted her to be there, then hell, she’d be there – even if it meant seeing him.

⚜ ⚜ ⚜

Clare’s chest rose as she breathed in deep, her eyes trained on the daunting golden gates staring back at her. They looked exactly as they had nearly four years ago now. She stepped forward, mustering up all the strength she had as she pushed the buzzer.

“Hawthorne Residence, how may I help you?” A voice chimed from the speaker besides the buzzer.

She cleared her throat, “I’m here for the reading of the will,” She held the envelope to the camera, “Clare Jones.”

“Oh! Yes, come in, come in,” the attendant exclaimed.

The gates unlocked with a loud click as they pushed forward, allowing Clare to get a full view of the estate. From the gates, it looked massive – like something you’d see only in a fairytale. Before she could stand there and gawk for too long, a security guard in a golf cart pulled up to escort her to the main building. As they approached, Clare felt her heartbeat quicken, her hands became clammy, her cheeks began to flush. She couldn’t fight the childhood memories from flooding in – four boys and a girl, laughing, running, puzzles, games, the treehouse, silver eyes. She pinched the side of her leg in an attempt to ground herself.

The golf cart came to a halt and she thanked the driver before reluctantly stepping out to stand before the doors to the foyer, unable to will herself to go inside.

This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have come here, doubt started creeping into her mind. Her hands prickled with anxiety. I can’t do this. I can’t see him.

“Clarissa Jones, is that you?” That familiar southern drawl brought her back to reality and she whipped around, hard enough that she stumbled.

“Woah there –”

“Nash!” She ran right into his arms, he wrapped his arms around her in return as he stumbled back from the impact.

“Well hello there stranger,” He chuckled. Nash didn’t pull away until Clare did, and when she did, she was met with a warm smile and fond look in his eyes. Nash was the best not-actually-your-big-brother a girl could have ever asked for. He bandaged countless scrapes, mended several broken hearts, and was always there when she needed a shoulder to cry on.

“I’ve missed you so much,” She said, teary-eyed – when had she gotten teary-eyed?

“And here I thought you forgot all about lil ol’ me while you were at Yale with all those fancy-pants snobs,” He teased.

“How could I ever forget my favorite not-actually-big-brother?’

Before should could say anything else, another familiar voice shouted out to them from behind.

“Hey! I thought I was your favorite not-actually-brother – glad to see Yale has changed you, traitor!” She turned back around only to be met with a flash of curly black hair and then BAM – Clare nearly fell back from the impact of Xander’s tackle-hug.

I guess I should have seen that one coming.

She laughed, all prior anxiety had since dissipated.

“You can be my favorite not-actually-little-brother,” She replied in between a fit of laughter.

Xander pulled away abruptly, “Good enough, truce?” He held his hand out and she took it with an overly exaggerated furrowed brow and firm shake of the hand.

“If you all are finished with your reunion, can we go inside?” Alisa. Always ready to get down to business. Clare scoffed, it was good to know some things never change. After a brief, business-like greeting with Alisa, the four of them made their way inside and ran into a few more Hawthornes in the foyer. There stood Zara, Skye, Jameson and –,

“Who’s she,” She whispered to Xander.

“Oh, Mystery Girl. Her name’s Avery. The old man wanted her here – why? We don’t know yet.”

Weird, Clare thought to herself. Then again, Tobias Hawthorne worked in mysterious ways and she had learned over time to let things play out in order to understand what he had been thinking. Clare’s eyes anxiously scanned over the rest of the room.

“Grayson’s not here yet,” Xander leaned in to whisper to her, sympathy shining in his eyes. At the sound of his name, Clare’s stomach did a flip.

As if on cue, steady, commanding footsteps echoed through the foyer. If her stomach was flipping before – it was now doing olympic-medal-worthy-somersaults. She breathed in, willing her anxiety away to no avail. She pressed her clammy hands against the sides of her thighs as Grayson walked by. If he’d noticed she was here, he didn’t show it.

By the time Grayson had made it to the middle of the foyer, drawing everyone’s attention to himself – Clare had managed to unconsciously hide herself behind Xander and Nash, blocked slightly by their towering frames and broad shoulders. Maybe if Grayson truly hadn’t seen her, she could slip away unnoticed by the end of this whole thing and return to her normal life, far, far away. Though Clare should’ve known better; nothing ever managed to slip from Grayson’s attention. His eyes caught hers immediately. She looked away, at Alisa, trying to focus her attention on anything but Grayson’s silver eyes burning through her but she couldn’t control her eyes from flitting back to Grayson – only to see that he was still staring at her.

Alisa clapped her hands to signal the start of what they had all come for, thankfully drawing Grayson’s attention away from her -- for now.

“Thank you all for coming, I know it’s been a grueling journey for some of you so let’s get started.”

⚜ ⚜ ⚜

"Clarissa Jones, Mr. Hawthorne has left behind $400,000 US Dollars to be deposited into your bank account with the sole condition that you remain a resident of the Hawthorne Estate for one year, effective immediately."

Clare replayed the words in her head. There had to be some kind of mistake. Not only was Tobias Hawthorne giving her more money than his grandsons and daughters – but he was forcing her to live with them for a whole year. Part of her asked if it would be worth it, to live with Grayson Hawthorne, the man she swore she’d never see again, for $400K. It was just enough to pay for her tuition with some change leftover to do with as she pleased. Clare had to admit it was a tempting offer as she paced back and forth in the garden, running over the situation in her mind again.

“Uh-oh, Clare’s got that look on her face,” Jameson’s familiar voice startled her out of her thoughts. She turned to face her “twin” Hawthorne.

Jamie and Clare were mere weeks apart in age, thus, “twins.” The pair were inseparable as children, constantly getting into trouble and then scolded by Grayson, who always acted older than he was to their great annoyance.

She found him leaning on the wall with his arms crossed, sporting a leather jacket, dark jeans, and that damned charming smile.

“Yeah? And what look would that be?” She replied.

“The one that says you’re planning an escape,” He replied.

She rolled her eyes, “I’m not planning my escape – yet.”

He laughed, the type of laugh that came right from the heart.

“C’mere Jones,” He walked over with arms wide open. Clare scoffed but his presence always proved to lift her spirits. She welcomed his embrace, burying her face into the familiarly scented leather jacket.

“It might be fun y’know,” Jamie said as he pulled away.

“Living with the four of you and some random girl I just met today? Yeah, I think it’ll be a blast,” sarcasm dripped off her words.

Maybe it could have been fun had she and Grayson been on speaking terms but alas, that was not the case.

“We can make sure there’s plenty of space between your room and you-know-whose room,” Jamie wiggled his eyebrows at her, trying to convince her to stay.

She shoved him in the shoulder, both amused and annoyed at his offer. He did have a point, she had to admit. The Hawthorne Estate had multiple wings, each spanning thousands of square feet with a plethora of bedrooms, hidden passages, libraries, and recreational rooms galore. It wouldn’t be a difficult task to avoid Grayson.

“I have school – I can’t just put Yale on pause for a year.”

Jamie shrugged, “I’m sure they can be convinced to let you do remote work for a year. Has anyone ever refused an offer from a Hawthorne?”

#grayson hawthorne x reader #grayson hawthorne #the inheritance games #fanfic #x reader fanfic #grayson hawthorne x OC

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viatagrinner · 2 years ago

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Gilbert von Obsidian. Chapter 1.

Developer's Disclamer: Gilbert's Basic Story contains major spoilers for each character's main story. Please read with caution.

━━━━━━━༻❀✿❀༺━━━━━━━

A few years ago.

One day in Rhodolite there was such a strange incident, like a joke of the gods.

A black-haired boy is sitting on a barrel in a empty alley, reading in an ancient language a book about the history of the continent that is difficult to understand, even for scholars.

Black-Haired Boy: Hey...why are people in power always rotten?

Next to him sits a blond boy with blue eyes. He too is reading.

Black-Haired Boy: They say continental history is the history of the nobility, but there are no good men.

Black-Haired Boy: Those who murdered their kin and gained the throne, those who expanded their territory by organizing other countries, those who turned a blind eye to the suffering of their people.

He would like to see someone good take the throne for once.

Back-haired boy : ...No, I wonder if such a man can't leave his name in history.

Blond Boy: No wonder. In a modern society where the class system has become common sense, the monarch who seeks love and equality must be eliminated first.

Blond boy: Once you hold on to power, you can never let it go.

His comrade reluctantly agrees.

Black-Haired Boy: I think humans are conscious creatures by nature.

Blond Boy: According to your theory, there are no real villains in the world.

Black-Haired Boy: Yes, because the essence of man is "love".

Black-Haired Boy: I like people.

The blond-haired boy thinks his mate is dreaming, but the brunette waves him off, saying he's just a kid.

The blond boy laughs.

The black-haired boy's red eyes were full of love and kindness.

━━━━━━━༻❀✿❀༺━━━━━━━

Our days.

The princes of the domestic political faction hold meetings. They want to convince the aristocracy and ministers that a meeting between the countries is necessary. And Obsidian will stay for the meeting.

Domestic Bureaucrat: Their betrayal of the past has remained undisclosed to this day.

Ten years have passed since Obsidian suddenly attacked Rhodolite.

Leon says that Obsidian hasn't shown diplomacy before, we should let their representative stay.

Leon: And if anything happens, Chevalier and I will take responsibility.

The official finally relents, but immediately turns the bureaucrat's attention to the heroine.

What is the point of this woman? Why is she here?

After she was Gilbert's date at the ball, she's being treated warily.

But the guys in Leon's faction are protective of her.

Yves mentions that their allies don't mind her presence.

Luke sits next to her.

Luke: Eh, it's a really bad atmosphere.

He's here because he's the new prince.

Luke asks, tiredly and a little annoyed, what does the bureaucrats know about Gilbert?

Invincible Marshal, arrogant member of the imperial family, world disaster, etc.

Luke: These are all just stories. You don't know his real identity, do you?

Luke: Suddenly he could just fall in love with Mirana at first sight.

(No, that will never happen. )

Bureaucrats: 🤨😒

Leon is laughing.

Jin is supportive. MC is a beautiful woman.

Luke wants to leave and take the girl with him.

Leon gives him permission.

━━━━━━━༻❀✿❀༺━━━━━━━

Garden.

Luke brings her here to relax. He strokes her head.

If she gets in trouble, he'll help her.

━━━━━━━༻❀✿❀༺━━━━━━━

Their idyll was interrupted by Gilbert.

The beautiful garden turned to hell with his arrival.

Awkwardly looking around, MC saw a black figure among the windswept petals.

━━━━━━━༻❀✿❀༺━━━━━━━

Gilbert: Hello. Perhaps you were in the middle of a secret date?

Luke: Alone. If you know, stay out of the way.

Gil doesn't like it. Luke tells him not to be jealous.

(...Luke doesn't change his attitude at all, even toward Prince Gilbert.)

━━━━━━━༻❀✿❀༺━━━━━━━

Gilbert notices the sadness on MC's face. Has someone been making fun of her? She denies it.

Gilbert: I hate lies.

Luke defends MC. If anyone is bullying the girl, it's Gilbert. Luke steps forward, shielding the heroine from the Prince of Obsidian.

Luke: Because your very existence is horrible. Don't scare MC.

Gilbert: Eh, that's unreasonable. I haven't done anything horrible yet.

MC doesn't like his words. He doesn't want her to be afraid.

He wants to deepen their friendship.

He thanks the girl for escorting him to the ball.

The prince ignores Luke.

Gilbert: Shall we go together now?

Just the two of them, so no one gets in their way.

The girl is not stupid, she understands that he is interested in her for a reason. He wants to know if she is "Belle".

Luke: What are you thinking?

Gilbert: I'm only thinking about strengthening my friendship with Miss Bunny.

If she keeps looking at him with those sad eyes, he'll be so sad he'll want to kill her.

Gilbert asks Luke to come up with an excuse why he isn't there.

Luke is not happy. Why should he help Gil?

It's simple: Luke is of the foreign policy faction, and the girl is the lady on whom the future of the country depends. If the Prince of Obsidian doesn't like their behavior, their homeland will die.

(It sounds like a joke, but Prince Gilbert really can do it.)

━━━━━━━༻❀✿❀༺━━━━━━━

1. Please give me time for a consultation

2. ....Even so, I can't take it. ✔

3. Okay, I'll go.

You could pick anything... But my MC is brave... or desperate fool. Maybe he'll like it, though. 💪🏼

━━━━━━━༻❀✿❀༺━━━━━━━

(Even if I'm threatened, it's not something I should take lightly.)

Gilbert: Hmm? You're brave, even though you're scared.

Gilbert: I don't hate you, but I wouldn't want to do something terrible to you if I could.

He grabbed her hand. The coldness of his body could be felt even through his gloves.

It's inhuman cold.

Luke: Gilbert!

Gilbert: It's okay! I won't be cruel.

Gilbert: You should know better than anyone that I'm not lying.

(...What do you mean?)

Luke: ...MC, if you really don't like it, I'll take this guy down.

━━━━━━━༻❀✿❀༺━━━━━━━

The girl had to go with Gilbert. He brought her to the bookstore where she used to work. Today he had reserved that store specifically for them.

It was one thing if it was just a coincidence, but if he had it all figured out...?

Gilbert forcibly led her to the bookshelf.

The heroine loves books, doesn't she?

Gilbert: There are no annoying looks from the yard here. It's the only place where you can get back to your true self.

Gilbert: Are you pale? Aren't you happy?

MC asks how he knows about this place and that she likes books?

It's a secret + he likes to gather information. It's his hobby.

Gilbert: But it's your fault, Belle.

The heroine denies being "Belle."

Gilbert doesn't like lies.

Gilbert: Oh, is this the book you've been so fond of lately?

He pulls a black book with gold letters from the shelf.

The girl is startled by his awareness. She gathers up her courage and asks what his real goal is.

━━━━━━━༻❀✿❀༺━━━━━━━

He doesn't want to threaten her, but wants to be friends.

She refuses him.

But she has no choice. The black book has fallen to the floor.

She has only two choices: volunteer to be friends or be forced to be friends.

He bites her shoulder.

Either she becomes his friend or Belle disappears.

Gilbert: If the king's choice goes back to the beginning, we can buy enough time to lead our troops and invade.

MC: ...Do you really want to go to all this trouble and time to be friends with me?

He likes her question.

Gilbert: You have the most beautiful heart in Rhodolite.

There are different criteria for evaluation.

Gilbert: Let's define beauty in your case as "a stronger feeling of love for others than for yourself."

(You don't have to know anything about me....)

Her pure heart makes him sick.

Gilbert: But you know, I think. No matter how beautiful a man's heart is, the essence of mankind is false love.

Gilbert: To pile up ugly lies and act as if there is love...there really is no such thing.

Gilbert: Even your beautiful heart is nothing more than a trick.

If she stays in court, greed will eventually get the better of her.

And he'd like to see it up close.

Gilbert: I was curious to see how the most pure-hearted woman in Rhodolith would transform.

Gilbert: So, friend. To be near you, the excuse of being a friend is the fastest, right?

(...I may not even understand 10% of Prince Gilbert's story.)

MC tells him that she will remain herself and not live up to the prince's expectations.

Gilbert: Heh, that's funny.

He bites her again.

MC: Please don't bite me!

Gilbert: Did that hurt? I'm sorry.

Gilbert: I like to leave a mark on my favorites. I mean, it's a sign that you're my friend.

Gilbert let go of MC. Turning around, she met his eyes. He was smiling, but his gaze was cold.

(......Looks like a real beast.)

She doesn't feel she can love him.

━━━━━━━༻❀✿❀༺━━━━━━━

Gilbert's Masterlist

#I'm becoming Luke's simp #After the first chapter Luke should have more fans #This is Gilbert's story but Luke... is a sunbeam #....The chapters are very long 🙄#There's that black-covered book again.#ikemen prince #ikepri #ikemen ouji #ikepri translation #ikemen gilbert #gilbert von obsidian #ikemen prince gilbert #ikepri gilbert #gilbert's route #spoilers Gilbert von Obsidian

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clay-cuttlefish · 1 year ago

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Finally we've arrived at 52, the series that turned me from a casual reader of a few comics into a full-on DC fan and Question enthusiast. This is the reason I set out on this project in the first place. I love it so much.

This is my fifth time reading this in full, I think, and I still get hyped at this opening issue. Look at my guys.

It's a miracle this came together as well as it did. The omnibus is great for giving some insight into that construction process.

There's just so much in 52 and I can't believe they pulled it off. Part of that is that it's thematically coherent, despite how different the plots are. Grief, reinvention, self-destruction as a means to cope with loss... it all feeds into itself.

In a slightly different timeline I came out of 52 fixated on Booster Gold and stumbled back into the Question later through Blue Beetle, instead of the other way around.

It took 416 issues but they're interacting! They're together! It's paying off!

Renee's heartbreaking spiral into self-destruction is interrupted by this massive dork. I love them.

I really need to read Steel. Captivated by these two.

Skeets nudging the gyro cart owner out of the way is a very good panel. Catlike behavior.

Booster and Bea's conversation is so. Hhh.

In the omnibus, Mark Waid calls Vic and Renee's scene "one of the high points of the entire series", and I'm with him.

Renee and Maggie...

The metahuman hospital's a really cool piece of worldbuilding.

The only plotline I don't care much about is the spaceguys. I still like them, but the bar's really high here and I want to see other characters more.

Wish this was less creepy about Starfire.

Kind of obsessed with Bob the theatre teacher and villain-for-hire, conceptually.

It takes a while for the Black Adam plot to pick up steam so this part isn't quite hitting yet.

Booster having a normal one.

Renee hasn't talked to her mom in three years by this point. Oof.

The exes of all time!

Booster... Ralph blaming him for Ted's death is brutal.

Oh cmon girl you're smarter than this. It's Lex Luthor, when has he ever had anyone's best interests at heart.

At least Ollie's still doing his thing.

Clark hating Booster is so good.

"Smart-ass." "Consistency is everything." He is so annoying!

The John and Natasha fight is great.

#10

Clark taking a page from Lois' book is so good. Ridiculous.

I like Will and Professor Morrow a lot, nice that they're back in focus.

Supernova time :)

#11

His anti-smoking rant...

"I don't owe you anything." Oof ouch my soul.

Big talk here from a guy who spent a decade hung up on Myra.

The one superheroine ass shot I respect is in the "that's a Batwoman" panel because Renee deserves to appreciate Kate's ass.

#12

Besties moment.

Black Adam's plotline is gaining speed.

Oh Ralph.

#13

Oh NO, Ralph.

#14

They both look so good here. Love his stubble.

Desperately want to hear Tot's side of their conversation, and also their previous phone calls, because I'm sure he'd have Opinions about Vic deciding to become a mentor.

Shaking him. You are so annoying!

"There's no such thing as crazy, just behaviour that society has deemed unacceptable." SO true bestie.

#15

BOOSTER...

#16

Oh god, Renee.

Billy officiating Black Adam's wedding is very sweet.

#17

Luthor's superteam is one of the series highlights.

Still very funny that there's just a guy named Hannibal on it. Zero subtlety here.

Oh Lobo. I do not care about you.

#18

He's so silly.

Renee is having truly awful time falling back into old coping measures and he's out here getting scooped and being made fun of for cockblocking.

Booster's shitty funeral still fucks me up. Choosing to believe Skeets intentionally didn't invite people for evil reasons because the idea nobody showed up is too much.

Once again, oh no Ralph.

#18/2

A backup with Vic's origins. It's about right, though I prefer him starting as the Question before moving back to Hub City.

It lists his "essential storylines" as Mysterious Suspense, The Question 1987, and Cry for Blood, which I mostly agree with. Mysterious Suspense is less important but reading a pre-DC story is useful background for the 87 run and it's his only solo option.

#clayposts #clayreads #the question #vic sage #renee montoya

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ryker-writes · 1 year ago

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The Journal

Jaxon Crowley's masterlist

"You are isolated like I am, but you intentionally push others away. And then you wander around in despair all during the night. Do you never notice this cycle?"

Jaxon hated Malleus and how right he was. He knew it was true. All he ever does is shove other people away from him. No one has ever given him a reason not to...but it's been a long time since he's even given anyone a chance.

The delinquent son of the headmage; that's what he's always been. Some people believed getting close to him would give them bonus points in Crowley's book. They thought they'd be able to get away with more if they were with him. Others believed that if they were his friend, no one would mess with them. They would use that friend status to do anything they wanted and thought Jaxon would protect them when trouble came.

All those years, all those people, and not a single one actually cared about him. Eventually, he gave up on the hope that anyone would ever care about him. No one would ever actually care about him, that's what Jaxon fully believed.

Even his own father didn't seem to care much about him. Then again, did he ever? Crowley had given up on him long ago. Time and time again, Jaxon had managed to prove that he was nothing but trouble. He had managed to prove that he wasn't worth the effort, and a lost cause.

But...then why was he saved?

When he overblotted Leona, Kalim, and even that Heastslabyul student were there to save him. Leona cared, but he's never even opened up to Leona about anything. And what reason did the other two even have to care about him? He just couldn't figure it out.

This was way too much for his tired brain to try and figure out. While the collar around his neck was gone, Leona was dead set on making sure Jaxon didn't use his magic on himself to keep him awake. Now he wandered the campus constantly tired and on the verge of falling asleep. He was out for his walk before trying to sleep when he ran into Malleus.

Savanaclaw was much quieter at night. Even on the way to his room, everything was calm and still. It was nice, but he didn't want to be left alone with his thoughts.

Unfortunately for him, the universe loves to throw things at him right when he doesn't want them. This time, it came in the form of a book sitting on the ground by his door. Ordinarily, he would've ignored it. But scrawled in messy handwriting across a paper on the top of it was his name.

Against his better judgement, he picked it up and took a look on the inside of the cover. Upon seeing who it belonged too, he rushed inside his room to read it. It was a name he hasn't seen or heard of in a long time.

'This journal belongs to: Sydney Crowley'

It's his mother's name. This was her journal. Jaxon could only guess that his father dropped this off, but he didn't really care about why right now. All he had to remember his mother by was his memories of her, but this was something physical. This belonged to her.

As soon as he got into his room, he took a seat on his bed and opened it up to start reading.

'It's been a while since I've written in a journal. My old one was even too full to continue writing in, so here I am with a completely new one. I suppose this is symbolism in a way. After all, this is a new chapter of my life so it's only fitting it fills a new book.

Our darling son was born a few weeks ago! It's quite exciting and everything went well in the hospital. Jaxon was born on January 26th at approximately 10:57 at night. Dire was freaking out the entire time. But he was super excited to meet Jaxon.

He wanted to hold Jaxon as soon as he came out, but the nurses let me see him first of course. I wish I could've got a photo of Dire's face when he held Jaxon for the first time. He looked so happy and he even started crying.

Jaxon already looks so much like his father. He's got those golden eyes and pale skin, and he even has the same face shape. The only things he seemed to get from me is the blue hair and round ears. Even as a baby he's already acting like his father; all dramatic and very clingy.

The other day he started crying just because Dire set him down. It was only for a second but Jaxon was so upset and Dire immediately picked him up again. Jaxon just loves his father so much already, it's rare to see them separated anymore. Jaxon doesn't even cry when I set him down.

I can't be upset though. Dire loves Jaxon so much and he's wanted a child of his own for so long that it's only natural they're so attached to each other. It's adorable to see them together all the time.'

Jaxon huffed after reading that passage. The idea that him and his father were close at one point was so foreign and strange to him. And to think that his father wanted a kid...boy he must've been pretty disappointed at what Jaxon turned out to be. Jaxon flipped the page and continued reading without another thought.

'I know it's been a while since I last wrote, but such is the life of a new mother. Things have become more busy since Jaxon was born. Between taking care of him and helping Dire with some things at NRC, I've been quite busy. I'll also admit that I forgot about writing here for a while.

Jaxon turned 2 years old today. He's learned some of his basic needs and even said his first word not too long ago. While he doesn't speak or use his voice often, he's quite adorable when he does.

I have a video on my phone of Dire putting Jaxon down only for Jaxon to start making grabby hands at him and want up. It was so adorable and then Jaxon was babbling before he said dada. Dire heard it of course and immediately picked him up again and started spinning the boy around. I watch that video again from time to time to see the moment and hear their laughter when I'm down.

He's also able to walk around now, and he loves to hold people's hands while walking. Sometimes we all take walks around NRC and show Jaxon around. The ghosts all love him too. Dire keeps showing Jaxon off every chance he gets saying "look how cute my son is!" and everyone goes along with it. Jaxon always has the biggest smile on his face too.

But I'll admit, I do miss all the time me and Dire had for ourselves. He spends a lot of time with Jaxon and I can understand that. But it's always either Jaxon or NRC that's occupying his time. I wish we could still go on dates or even just spending time alone at home. Is that selfish of me?'

Jaxon couldn't believe it. His father spending a lot of time with him? It didn't sound real. And to ignore his mother in the process, how awful of him. As if his father couldn't get worse in his mind. Jaxon huffed before skipping ahead a few pages.

'I didn't think I would enjoy being home on my own so much. Jaxon started kindergarten so he's been occupied there and Dire has been at NRC. Thanks to this, I've been getting more time to myself.

I've been loving my time alone a lot more than I originally thought I would. Jaxon isn't here to ask me a million things and I don't have to deal with Dire's antics. I feel bad for enjoying this alone time as much as I do. They're my family and I'm supposed to love spending time with them. But now I dread them coming home. What is wrong with me?

Even when they get home I find myself interacting with them differently. Dire has been trying to get Jaxon to complete homework as best he can. While Jaxon seems to have a harder time learning and understanding it, Dire keeps pushing that he understand it.

He's told me before that he dreams of Jaxon having a bright future. He wants him to be an ace student and do great academically, which I can understand, but he seems to get frustrated with how long it can take Jaxon to understand things. Jaxon even cried once, and Dire stopped his pushing immediately. He comforted Jaxon, and I think Jaxon learned that it was a way to stop pushing. Now whenever Jaxon gets frustrated with his schoolwork, he starts crying. I think Dire is getting tired of comforting him though, so I've stepped in from time to time so he would stop crying.

It only happens a few days a week, so I guess it's not too bad. Still, it's my job to step in when Jaxon gets too much for Dire to handle. Though I can't help but sigh in relief when Jaxon finally understands something. At least then I can enjoy the moment of peach and excitement that they both show.'

His mom...liked it better when he was gone? This passage didn't sound like his mom at all. He always knew her as a gentle and loving person who was always there for him. He spent more time with her than he did with his dad, but this is saying that she got tired of him and liked when he was away. The part about his father pushing him and getting frustrated was familiar to Jaxon, as well as his mother being the one to step in. Maybe he was just frustrating more as a little kid and she wanted to be around him more as he grew. With that though, he flipped ahead a few more pages.

'Jaxon has been spending more time with me lately. Since Dire keeps getting to tired to comfort him after getting frustrated with school, I think Jaxon isn't wanting to be around him as much. The schoolwork is most of the time he spends with Dire, so he must think his father is always frustrated with him.

He's still struggling quite a bit in school. Thankfully elementary isn't nearly as serious as high school or college, so grades don't quite matter for him yet. I do worry for how he'll do in the future especially since Dire has been so serious about him passing every class with amazing grades.

The other day the two even got into an argument. It was the first time I've ever heard Jaxon even yell at his father. Dire was shocked too, but insisted he was in the right and continued arguing. It ended with Jaxon running away in tears and I couldn't help but feel guilty for not stepping in. But what am I to do? Dire just wants him to be successful, but Jaxon is struggling.

At this rate, I'm not sure if Jaxon will ever be ready to take over at NRC. I know Jaxon really likes the school and he basically grew up there, but with the way things are going with Dire, I'm a bit worried. I've tried telling Dire about it, but he's very stubborn in his ways. Maybe things will get better with time. Maybe Jaxon will come to understand why Dire pushes him so hard.'

He doesn't even remember his first fight with his father, but here it was described. All the way back in elementary...it seems like such a long time ago. He's just been arguing with Crowley so long that it's natural to him now. He always knew his mom didn't know how to help though. Whenever they argued, she would stand on the side silently. If only Jaxon could go back and tell her that time wouldn't make things better at all. Jaxon sighed before flipping ahead again.

'I don't know what to do anymore. All they do is avoid each other and fight all the time. Dire wants Jaxon to be a supper smart straight A student who will eventually take over at NRC and be like him. Jaxon just wants to do his own thing and not have someone constantly pushing him to do better. It's gotten to the point where it just seems like Dire is disappointed in him all the time. I know he's not, he tells me so, but it's getting harder to tell if that's the truth.

I've tried talking to both of them, but Crowley won't give up on his dream for Jaxon, and Jaxon firmly believes his dad hates him and considers him a failure. I'm caught in the middle of two people who can't even get along for a little bit. All they do is push each others buttons. It's like even mentioning one to the other will cause immediate anger and defensiveness. This isn't how a family is supposed to be.

Others have told me that Jaxon is just in his rebellious phase since he's almost a teenager. But this has been going on since he was young, and if this is a rebellious phase, it started early and has been going on far longer than I would think.

I'm so lost and don't know what to do. How do I fix this? I know Dire loves his son and wants what's best for him but Jaxon can't see that. They're both going about it so wrong and I can't even get them in the same room together for five seconds without something happening. Can this family even be helped anymore?

I want to help them. I want them to get along, but I don't know how. Jaxon isn't even trying in school anymore. We send him there only for him to lash out at others and he even got into a fight with one student. I don't want him to feel like I'm disappointed in him, but I really wish he wouldn't fight. I'm just about the only one he gets along with anymore, so I can't be upset with him too.

I just feel so torn all the time. It's like I can't relax and there's constant strain. I hate feeling like this, but there isn't much I can do. I look at Dire now and it's hard to see the same man who would always be there whenever baby Jaxon needed anything. What happened to us?'

Before the pages had a small hint of happiness from his mom, but not this one. The writing feels so desperate and sad. His loving and happy mother, it was hard to imagine her so sad. Even the thought of her crying seemed to hurt Jaxon. At this point he didn't even know if he should blame his father or himself.

He flipped ahead again a few pages, only to find them blank. There was over half a notebook left but the pages were blank? That didn't make sense. Maybe she left before she could write those pages. Carefully, Jaxon flipped backwards to the last page with writing on it.

'This is going to be my last entry into this journal. I just can't take it here anymore. I can't live in this house like this anymore. This constant fighting, constant strain, it's too much.

I've already talked to Dire about it. He was upset of course, but could understand that we were no longer in love like we used to be. We weren't the same. I offered to take Jaxon with me, but he refused. I was quite surprised, but it was...kind of nice hearing that. Dire was more stubborn than ever saying that "You will not be taking my son from me. Do what you want wherever you go, but I'm not going to leave him."

It was like proof to me that Dire still cared about Jaxon. He wanted Jaxon to stay there with him. And to be honest, I'm happy about that. I think I may have become a mother sooner than I was ready. Having a child was something Dire wanted so badly, and I knew I could fulfill that. Yet here I am, wanting to get away from my own family.

I asked Dire to give this notebook to Jaxon someday so he can understand why I left. So assuming he did, I want to say hello to you my dear son.

I'm so sorry about everything. You must be so confused. I can't bring myself to face you before I leave. I'm a bit cowardly that way I know, but I don't even know how I would begin to explain everything to you.

The truth is that I'm selfish. If you've read any other parts of this journal, you could probably tell that I wasn't very happy with everything. I tried to hold on as long as I could, but it all got too much.

Than I went to the doctor, and found out that I'm sick. I don't have much time left either. As much as it pains me, I believe I should spend the time I have left in a way that makes me happy. I don't want to spend my last years alive in sadness and struggling to put a family back together.

I know I failed you as a mother. I can't apologize enough for that. I should've done something to help you and Dire. I should've stepped in, and should've tried to help sooner. I'm sorry for failing you.

But you should know that none of this is your fault. I may be leaving so I can be somewhere happy, but it's not because of you at all. Ever since the day you came into this world, I've loved you. I know you're capable of amazing things and I want you to be able to become whatever kind of person you want to be. It doesn't matter if it's the new headmage of NRC or even a househusband. As long as you're happy, that's all that matters.

I hope you can forgive me for leaving you like this. I know it's cowardly and selfish, and I'm sorry. I also hope that you and your dad will be able to get along soon. It's a bit naïve, but maybe me leaving can bring you two closer. He does care about you, even if it may not seem like it, and so do I.

There are so many things I wish I could've changed, but life had other plans. I hope that someday you can look at this journal and understand or at least look back on happier times in the earlier pages. I love you Jaxon.

-Sydney Crowley'

And just like that, everything Jaxon had believed and known had been flipped upside down. He'd be lying if he said it was easy to process.

His mother wrote this before leaving. That was over four years ago. By now there's a good chance whatever sickness she had took it's toll. He wanted to find her. He wanted to search for her and stay with her after Night Raven College...but she's gone. It's likely already too late. She's gone for good.

Jaxon couldn't control it. Quick tears had run down his face before falling down into his lap. Usually he would do anything he could to avoid crying, but right now, he didn't give a damn. And the tears rolled quickly, so there was no stopping them if he tried. He couldn't even control how his breathing started to get shaky and he wanted to just curl into himself. The scary and tough delinquent and son of the headmage was here, sobbing alone in his room.

He basically just found out that the only person he felt understood him and could accept him, was gone with no hope of ever coming back. He would never see her again, and all she knew before she died was the son who was rebellious and angry all the time. She knew the constant fighting between him and his father, and she wasn't happy with it. It wasn't just Crowley's fault, it was his too. Both of them were to blame for her leaving and being so unhappy. Sure, she said not to blame himself, but how could he not?

Why couldn't he just do what his dad wanted? Why couldn't he just listen? Why couldn't he get along with his dad? Why couldn't he be smart and understand things like everyone else? Why did he have to be so...so...gah! He can't even think of the word. He may as well be the stupidest guy in the school. He's just the violent delinquent that can't do anything right.

"No wonder your mom left you. No one would want a delinquent like you."

He hated that kid. He hates that condescending tone he spoke with. He hates how that kid was sort of right.

Suddenly his room felt suffocating to be in. He had to get out. He had to walk around. It felt like he was trapped in here with his thoughts and he hated it.

Jaxon frantically wiped his tears away before shoving the journal under his bed and walking out the door. He definitely won't be sleeping tonight.

#jaxon crowley #poor jaxon #jaxon crowley lore #sydney crowley #jaxon needs a hug #somebody comfort him please #im so sorry my dear boy #sad boi jaxon

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