#i am fully aware that this is more on the sketch side of things especially because i didnt put effort in the lighting | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

paper-n-ashes · 4 years ago

Text

The Late Shift

Characters: Paul Sevier x Female Reader

Words: 2k

Warnings/Tags: There’s actually none (I hope). I know. I’m surprised too.

Authors Note: This is so dumb. I’m aware. Look, I’ve been dealing with a horrendous writers block and shattered confidence and I made Paul Sevier gifs to ease my pain. It turned into this. I just wanted to try something a little cute and fluffy to get back into the swing of things. So... here it is.

It was going to be a long night.

Stuck on the Wednesday evening shift for the third time this month, you mindlessly fiddled with the pen in your hand. Twirling it between your fingers, your mind drifted away from the present moment, wondering why your boss seemed to dislike you so much to keep you here past 6pm in the middle of the week. He’d always been adamant this was prime selling time for this boutique suit store, with corporate clients needing to do their shopping outside of normal business hours.

You, however, knew keeping this place open was senseless, barely seeing more than a few unenthusiastic customers in these agonizingly slow stretches. Working on commission also made you all the more bitter about being paid minimum wage to stand behind a counter and doodle sketches of imaginary clients dressed in the outfits you personally tailored. This isn’t where you thought a Bachelor of Arts in Fashion Design would take you, that’s for sure.

“H-hello,” you heard a deep voice quietly greet you, startling you into focus. “Are you busy? I… think I need a little help.”

Eyes flickering up from the notepad, you were sure your pupils blew wide at the sight of the man in front of you. Standing at an imposingly large height, his hair a severely murky shade of black, with honeyed irises shining brightly behind delicate spectacles.

A human personification of tall, dark and handsome. Well, except for the clothes.

The stranger wore the layered combination of a grey tweed jacket and argyle patterned sweater, arranged over a particularly heinous, mustard-coloured button up. While the ensemble made you internally cringe, it gave him an air of intelligence, like the kind that hangs around stuffy, old college professors who have more academic accolades than you have fingers and toes.

“Me?” you coughed out, knowing full well you were the only other person in this tiny little shop. “Uh, yeah. I mean- No, no I’m not busy. What is it you need help with?” Even when you stood, the man towered above you, making you silently begin to calculate the high-numbered measurements you’d need to fit him in something.

“I have an important meeting scheduled for Friday. You know, the type you need to wear a suit to?” Evidently the thought of it made him nervous, as you noticed his cheek twitch slightly, his eyes scanning momentarily at the garments filling the space. “I’m… uh… not so great with clothes.”

Clearly, you chuckled inside your head, holding the word from your tongue. “You want me to pick out something for you?”

He took a defeated breath, his mouth twisting into an awkward yet wonderfully endearing smile. “Would you mind? Only if it’s not too much trouble.”

“No trouble!” you burst, maybe a little too excitedly. “It’s my job!” Bounding out from behind the counter you’d been imprisoned by, you moved directly to the section of classic navy business suits. Slim line. Something to accentuate his well-built frame, rather than hide it away. You had to pause, swivelling back around to the dumbfounded man. “Is price an issue… uh…?”

“Paul,” he answered for you, slowly moving to where you stood. “And… I suppose not. Probably should spend the money on something that will last. If you think it’s a good idea.”

Oh thank god, you mused without showing the relief on your face. He’s not some rich asshole trying to flash his cash. “A good suit can last you five years, if you treat it right.” Your hand reached over to graze one of the deepened blue sleeves of a jacket at your left. “And a classic colour will never go out of style.”

Paul let out an embarrassed chuckle. “I think you’ve already noticed how lacking in style I am…” He glanced to your nametag, murmuring your name with a goofy smirk curling his lips. You’d never seen a grown man, especially not one of this stature, appear so adorable. It was horribly distracting.

“I’m sure you have expertise in other areas,” you stumbled, realizing only when the words came out how offensive they might seem. Yet Paul conceded to your comment, his rumbling laugh making your chest feel tight.

“Debatable,” he shrugged. “I’m just glad I found some qualified personnel to help me in this instance.”

Oh boy. Humble and charming? You were in so much trouble. Surely someone as sweet as this had another waiting for them at home. “I’m sure your partner could help you pick out something nice too.”

“Not an option in my case.”

Shit. Single too. You were truly fucked.

You turned, trying to calm your erratic heartbeat by focusing on finding an outfit that would contain his longer limbs. Plucking out a matching jacket and trouser set, with an ivory, collared button-up, you offered them to Paul, his features having melted into a sweetened look of intrigue. “Go and try these on. There’s a changeroom just behind the counter. See how they feel, and we can go from there.”

He nodded, taking the pieces with both of his large hands and shuffling away to where you’d pointed to. No sooner than the latch had locked were you dashing to where your phone was sitting at the register, flitting out a rushed text message to your favourite co-worker.

There was rustling you heard emanating from the changeroom stall, doing your best to ignore the urge of picturing Paul, a man you’d met only minutes ago, gradually slipping off his clothes to reveal the toned muscles underneath. You grimaced at yourself, shaking your head to banish the imaginations. God this was unprofessional.

Finally, a response lit up on your phone screen.

You laughed softly through your nose, about to type a reply when you heard the lock click open again. The breath in your lungs was stuck as Paul made his way out, the expensive textiles draping over his burly frame in a way that made your whole body tense.

He rustled a hand through his hair, looking up to you while fidgeting with the starchy material stretched over his chest. “Does it look okay?”

After all these years working this job, the enticing novelty of attractive men in well-fitted suits had slowly worn off, especially when most of them treated you with about as much respect as the used gum they spit out onto the sidewalk. Suddenly, all those preconceived notions were gone. On Paul, this ensemble instantly became the most captivating thing in the entire universe.

The inside of your mouth flooded with saliva, having to swallow hard before speaking again. “Great… it looks… great.” You did your best to conceal a settling exhale. “What do you think? How does it feel?”

Paul shifted to look at his reflection in the mirror, pupils trailing up and down, flexing his limbs in an attempt to get a proper impression of the new apparel. “It feels really good. Makes me look… sophisticated.” He turned to you, his expression unsure. “Right?”

Your smile was sparkling, nodding to his question. There was a small amount of work to do, noting how in your effort to make sure everything complemented his physique, you’d oversized him. The waistline of the jacket needed to be taken in, the shoulder lines sitting slightly off, and the trouser length needing to be taken up slightly. “A couple of adjustments and it’ll be perfect.”

“You mean taking it to be tailored?”

“No need.” You pulled out the wheel of berry pins from your pocket, kneeling down on the floor next to Paul’s feet. “All our tailoring is included in the price. Done completely in house.” You began to fold the bottom edge of his pants, pinning it to an adequate length. “I can have it ready for you tomorrow, all ready for your Friday meeting.”

“You do all the tailoring yourself?” Paul asked as you slinked another pin through the fabric.

“Sure do,” you chirped, moving onto the other leg. “3 years at a design school taught me a few things about cutting and sewing.” With the hemlines in place, you straightened in front of him, plucking out a roll of measuring tape from your other pocket. “I just… need to take a few measurements to properly alter the jacket.”

His cheek twitched, the line of his jaw seeming somewhat strained. “Sure. F-fine. Do what you gotta do."

You went with determining his arm length first, feeling out the boney point of his shoulder and striping the lined tape all the way down to his wrist. Then, after taking a deep inhale, you curled your arms around his hips, focusing hard on the little black numbers to ignore the fact Paul’s breath had started to skate over your skin with this close proximity. It was when you were lining up the thickened stripes indicating his chest circumference that you made the mistake of peering up, finding his alluring stare fully concentrated on you.

There was a moment. A spark to waiting kindling. Where impulse could have led you to do a dangerous thing. You’d never been the hasty type, never acted without considerable thought. Usually so shy and composed, never making the first move. Although right now, you could scarcely hold yourself back, desperate to know the sensation of Paul’s lips, how they’d move over yours, what they tasted like.

No. This was so inappropriate.

The compulsion was about to wither away when you felt a hand skim up your waist, the lightened touch shooting a thrill over your skin.

“Excuse me,” a gruff voice called from your side. “How much are these dress socks?”

You immediately stepped back, smacked into reality again. “$12.99. Exactly what it says on the box.”

The older gentlemen scrutinized the packaging, lids narrowed until he finally saw the numbers plastered at the border. “Oh, right. Eh, a little expensive for my taste. Thanks anyway.”

Flustered, you began to coil the measuring tape into its resting spiral, forcefully glaring at the floor. “I’m all done. You can get dressed into your own clothes now.”

In your periphery you saw Paul regarding you with a gentle nod, walking back into the changeroom without another word. Every part of you wanted to sink beneath the wooden floorboards, so horrendously embarrassed you could feel a smoldering heat prickle at your cheeks. Only to relieve some of the nervous energy, you ran to your phone.

Again, Paul was exiting out of the stall just as you were going to submit your reply, placing the neatly arranged garments over the counter. It was difficult to look directly at him, having to summon all remaining shards of your courage to drift your eyes up to his face. “Was there anything else you needed?”

His mouth parted, only to quickly snap shut, scratching at his hairline in the seconds it took for him to give you a response. “No. Nothing else. Unless there’s something more you think I need.”

You shook your head, wishing you could give another answer just to keep him here. “You’re all set.” The full price of his items flashed on the monitor in front of you, spouting it to him as your fingers flicked across the keyboard to finalize the purchase, with a personal discount that wouldn’t show on the receipt.

“When should I come by to pick it up?” he queried, passing you his credit card. “Oh, but there’s no pressure. Whenever you have the time is just fine.”

An idea flared. “If you give me your number, I can text you when it’s ready.”

“That works for me.”

Erasing all evidence of the conversation you’d been having, you brought up the number pad, handing your phone over. Paul swiftly typed in his details before placing it back in your palm. ‘Paul the Suit Guy’ the contact read, unable to stifle your laugh.

“So I’ll see you tomorrow?” His eager expression made your heart quiver through a beat.

“Y-yeah,” you stammered. “I’ll see you then.”

Paul waved his hand in an awkward flourish to signal his goodbye, eventually moving far enough from your vision for you to finally take a full, relaxed breath. In a dazed hurry, you keyed in your returning message to your co-worker.

It was the precise moment your thumb had pressed into the ‘Send’ button that you realised your recipient wasn’t the one you’d intended.

You’d sent this message straight to Paul.

Fuck. Oh fuck. This was bad.

While you were scrambling to formulate a believable excuse, a new message popped up onto the screen.

Tags for my lovelies who might tolerate this nonsense: @tlcwrites @roanniom @princessxkenobi @hopeamarsu @blowthatpieceofjunk @mariesackler @leatherboundriot @foxilayde @modernpaw @cornmousequeen @direnightshade @safarigirlsp @blackberries45 @mylifeisactuallyamess @caillea @jynzandtonic @beskarbabs

#paul sevier #paul sevier x reader #paul sevier x female reader #midnight special #adcu #adcu fanfiction

105 notes · View notes

bluemoonbeam15 · 3 years ago

Text

CTA: Hopper

CTA is short for Cognitive Task Analysis. It's essentially a method of unravelling the inner workings of a person's mind and seeing how their thoughts affect their actions.

I'm starting with Hopper -- obviously -- because he isn't given much, if any, backstory in the entire movie. His actions were written purposefully for the audience to not feel any remorse for his demise. If he had been given a backstory, there would probably be more people who could defend his actions, which isn't what the directors wanted.

However, just by analyzing his dialogue and actions -- no matter how small of screen-time -- we can get a rough sketch of his true personality.

I've spent the last hour completing the 16Personlaties test online and reading through the results. For those of you who aren't familiar with it, it's a website that has you go through a series of questions and by the end of it presents you with whichever personality type your responses most align with.

To the best of my ability, I have gone through each question and replayed Hopper's scenes in my mind to get a feel of how he would've answered them. The results showed him to be an ISTJ-A.

I = Introverted (52%)

S = Observant (95%)

T = Thinking (98%)

J = Judging (78%)

A = Assertive (69%)

I'll put a link to the website at the end of this post so any of you who are interested can read through it. This will also be the site I use for the other characters I analyze.

So since the link is available -- and the personalities can be read about, anywhere -- I will give my reasoning for how the result above fits his character.

BY THE WAY, NONE OF THIS IS CANON. I AM NOT STATING FOR A FACT THAT THIS IS HOPPER IN HIS ENTIRETY. IT'S ALL SPECULATION DRAWN FROM SMALL AMOUNTS OF EVIDENCE.

First off, let me brag on him for a moment for his incredible work. I know he's the bad guy and all, but let's give the man some credit. Only extremely powerful people in human history were able to convince a whole nation of people that they were in the right. Hitler, being one of those people.

While Hitler obviously did unforgivable things, everything he did was done thoughtfully and carefully. He analyzed the people, the children, and understood how their minds worked. This is what Hopper does in the movie.

By the time we are invited into this world, Hopper has already established a system within the colony. Despite not holding any true authority in their own monarchy, he had managed to set himself above the Queen. Even she is in fear of his capabilities and fights to keep him appeased.

He also manages to uphold his authority within his own gang. The fact that none of them -- aside from Molt -- have the boldness to question his decisions speaks volumes about how assertive he is.

But the only way he can keep his position is by applying his cognitive talents. We see in the movie that Hopper doesn't take the details for granted. He remarks that Atta didn't smell like the Queen -- implying he took note of which ant was in leadership. When he first lays eyes on Flik, he watches the ant's demeanor and takes in every detail. This allows him to recognize Flik when he reveals himself from the fake bird near the end of the movie. When the Circus Bugs arrive while Hopper is at Ant Island, he notices the empty box by the end of their act and demands to know where the Queen is.

We can even see that in almost every scene he is in, he does more observing than talking. In the beginning, he walks around and takes note of the ant's countenance around him, looking for any sign of rebellion as the source of his missing offering. He watches Atta carefully as she tries to explain that Flik is the reason it's missing. After punching the random gang member instead of Molt, he looks around at the colony to take in their reaction and adjusts himself accordingly. When Molt comes to tell him his "great idea," Hopper doesn't immediately rant off. Instead, he watches his brother carefully as he advances and takes in the sincerity and fear of Molt explaining himself.

As he walks around The Resort, addressing his gang, his eyes are pinpointing every grasshopper until they land on the three at the bar. He makes offhanded remarks and observes how the three react suspiciously overly supportive. By the time he lets them have it, he watches the grain fall and proceeds to keep his eye on every member as he makes his speech. When they get to the Island, Hopper manages to pinpoint the Queen in the midst of the crowd of ants. As the Circus Bugs first reenter the scene, Hopper silently follows his gaze as they pull up in front. Not once does he say a word until they make themselves fully shown. When the pill bugs appear, he watches them for a good while before finally allowing the Circus Bugs to entertain them.

Throughout their performance, Hopper is silently watching -- maybe laughing once during the entire ordeal. You can especially see it when Manny offers to let the Queen be a part of the performance and Hopper follows his every move as he does so.

As he gives his speech to the ants, he walks around and makes it a point to make eye contact with as many as he can. He observes their gradual return to submission. When Flik speaks up again, Hopper does not yell, summon Thumper, or try to interrupt him at all. He advances -- like he did Molt -- and observes how the ant will react to his closing proximity. It's almost as if he's gauging how much damage has been done to his influence before he decides on which course of action to take. In fact, for the remainder of the movie, Hopper maintains this way of decision-making. While in the canon, he's keeping his eye on Flik. When it rains, he pinpoints Flik in the crowd.

When he lands in front of Flik by the bird's nest, he begins advancing again and uses that time of observation to unsettle the ant. While Hopper uses analyzation as a way to base his decisions, he also uses it as a way to unsettle his opposition. In nearly every situation he quietly observes, the adversary becomes nervous and backs away. They mess up on their train of thought, try to explain themselves, or beg for mercy. It's more than Hopper looking intimidating, it's the way he looks at them to make them feel transparent. As if he knows every little thing about them, and in a way, he kind of does from the time he's observed.

The only hole in this is when the real bird finally makes an appearance and Hopper is so caught up in his rage of the previous bird that he neglects to fully analyze the creature before him. Of course, let's also take into account that he is blind in one eye, it's dark and raining, and his perception of reality has been slightly altered thanks to the fake bird from earlier. In his defense, he had good reason to believe the bird before him was also a fake.

His observations play hand-in-hand with his tendency to base his decisions on rationality rather than emotion. As well as being more judging than perceiving. For the record, the word "judging" in this sense is not used in a social manner. It is being able to make faster-paced decisions and to stick by them. People who are judging will be clean-cut and look presentable to others as a means of influencing others to agree with their steadfast decisions.

As also mentioned, Hopper does not act on his emotions. You can base an alternative opinion saying, "Oh, but he gets mad and threatens his brother," or, "what about when he killed those three grasshoppers?" and so on. However, acting on your emotions and acting on rationale are two different things. They look different too.

Consider this: had Hopper, the moment Molt opened his mouth, yelled or swung a punch at him, then he would then have acted on his emotions. Had he outright put those three grasshoppers in their place instead of going through the foreplay, he would have acted on his emotions. Flik was also not immediately killed when he first spoke up and when he continued to defy Hopper. Even at the end of the movie, when the real bird appears, Hopper halts his strangling long enough to realize that the bird is real.

After re-watching the movie with these characteristics in mind, it doesn't seem like there is one time where he acts on his emotions. Impulsively, is one way to put it. He never acts on impulse. Every move is calculated according to how he needs the situation to play out in his favor. Perhaps the only time he acts on emotions is when he punches the nearby grasshopper instead of his brother. And, even then, he lets enough rationality in to redirect his anger onto someone else.

Now let's dive more onto the hidden side of Hopper the movie doesn't shed much light on.

Despite giving off this hard, rough exterior, we know that the gang he surrounds himself with was on purpose. While he probably gathered them for the sake of enforcing the ants more into submission, I think it might be safe to say that they're there for his own mental stability. Let's be clear, Hopper doesn't need them to accomplish his goals. Flik doesn't spare a glance at the other grasshoppers once Hopper comes into the hill. All eyes are on him. Even when Hopper has taken control of the Island, Atta and Phyllis are constantly glancing to see his reactions.

It's especially significant when Atta notices Flik and the girls climbing the tree to the bird and the only grasshopper she looks at to see if they noticed is Hopper. Because in the grand scheme of things, his awareness of the situation is what will make or break their plan.

Notice with me too that the other gang members have the IQ of a rock. Any opinion they have is shown to be based on little to no evidence. And although they were on the right track to not go back to the Island -- which ends up being one of Hopper's downfalls -- they didn't necessarily understand the true power the ants could have over them. Basically, their desire to stay the The Resort was not based on truth but more their own personal wishes.

Personally, I believe that Hopper only keeps them -- and Molt -- around for the sake of keeping himself distracted. With his observations, it can be seen that he does more time thinking rather than acting. Imagine having a whole colony under your control and your mind running 24/7 to maintain that power. Imagine how stressful it has to be for him to know that in a single instance, all that work he put into molding the colony could be in vain. No wonder he needs some time alone for a massage.

But then imagine having others around you to keep your mind off of those stressors and anxieties. With the gang partying and having a good time, it would be hard for Hopper to dwell on all the ways everything could go wrong. I believe that's why he keeps Molt around. Hopper never said he promised their mother he'd let him join the gang, or that he'd watch him 24/7. He merely stated he promised not to kill Molt.

Molt is simply that happy-go-lucky persona that Hopper can not only release his stress on, but also someone who can distract him from everything storming within his own mind. It may seem in the movie like he's a lazy freeloader who uses the ants to avoid doing any work himself, but let's look at it this way:

> He's "babysitting" his brother constantly

> He has to travel a great distance back and forth at least once a year for the offering

> In that little time he sees the colony, he has to assert his authority to keep them obedient

> He has to keep his own gang members submissive

> It seems that he also runs (or at least co-runs) The Resort

> Just as all insects do, he has to protect himself, his gang, and his brother from bigger predators

Most of these have a lot of psychological weight that would wear Hopper out with all the stress it adds on to him. There's so much responsibility that has not only been forced on him, but also ones he's chosen to take. And some of those responsibilities were chosen for the sake of distracting him from everything else. It's a vicious cycle that he's gotten caught in where he ends up putting more on his plate than he can handle, all in a vain attempt to have something to redirect his attention from his other anxieties.

Hopper has a very self-destructive mindset in this term. It ends up getting to the point where, by the end of the movie, when everything begins to unravel before him, his anxieties kick in and he doesn't know how to handle it. He's spent so long trying to avoid those fears that he never established an escape for them other than the other self-destructive behaviors. He never found the right way out of his own torment.

In reality he influenced himself to be subdued just as much as he had the ants. He has convinced himself that he is weaker when mulling over his anxieties and letting his emotions get out of control. Therefore, he's put chains on them and has put an emotional muzzle on himself. And all of it is in an attempt to stay rational and maintain his position. In a way, Hopper has become so skilled at overpowering others that he has subconsciously overpowered himself. He's convinced himself that he is who he wants to be. He wants to be in control, calm, collected, strong, and powerful. And he has convinced himself to believe that he can be all those things so long as he pushes back the characteristics and emotions that would hold him back.

And he reflects this inner pain on the ants as he convinces them to be what he wants them to be. Submissive, mindless, fearful, and obedient. And so long as he pushes back the ideas and rebellion, they can be all those things.

If any of you want me to continue this analysis -- God knows there's still more to unpack about his personality -- feel free to ask! I will be doing the other characters (Flik is next).

Here is the link to the website I used:

https://www.16personalities.com/istj-personality

#a bugs life #CTA #personality analysis #hopper #psychology #pixar #ISTJA #analysis #hopper is a very complex person #this was so fun to do tho #briggs personality types

8 notes · View notes

pl-panda · 5 years ago

Text

Damienette arranged marriage: part 7

Credits: Miraculous Ladybug team for the elements I take from MLB show. DC for their characters, @ozmav for the AU, @maribat-archive for giving me access to so many different stories to have take inspirations from, @thyladyanput for idea for Chat Damian and me for the plot.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Damienette arranged marriage: Part 7

NEXT!

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She was maybe the second person to learn the truth behind his name. Damian means to tame and his mother named him that because he was ultimate proof that she tamed The Bat. He expected her to laugh, but instead she pulled him into a hug to comfort him. He also revealed that he loved painting and went as far as to sketch her. She was happy to pose as long as he in turn allowed her to take measurements.

Marinette brought out what was best in him and he would be damned if he let her just suffer in silence.

Marinette was so tired that she found herself unable to sleep. This day was so full of emotions: both good and bad.

When she first met Damian, back at the temple, he was rather cold and indifferent. He struck her as selfish even. But he was also dead honest and very serious about his loyalty. He even stabbed his own brother to defend her honor. Okay, after spending the day with him she was pretty convinced he would stab him for some more meager reason, but it was still… cute in some strange way. Nobody has ever done something like this before. Even Chat Noir never stabbed anyone to defend her honor. Hit on the head with a baton? Sure. But never stab. And he threatened Lila. Marinette was unsure if he wouldn’t actually follow up on his threat.

The date she went on was great. She felt the freedom unlike ever before. She knew she could tell him anything since they already knew each others’ greatest secrets. She could freely tell him about her adventures as Ladybug. And he was also quite handsome when he smiled. Not that he wasn’t when he was not smiling, but she liked his smile. His actual smile not the malicious grin he often wore. Damian played the cold and closed mean guy, but he was actually quite soft. He loved animals and painting. He even wanted to sketch her! Damian was yet very grounded person. He had this no-nonsense aura around himself. But he was patient enough to endure with her small panic attacks. She remembered his gentle touch on her hands. His words of encouragement. And his deep green eyes. They were two whirlpools of emerald. So majestic, yet so caring. With that image imprinted on her mind she finally fell asleep. Her dreams were undisturbed by a knocking on her window.

-------------

Next day Marinette woke up still tired, but in much better mood. She was ready for school. Well, good for her since she was almost late like usual. In panic, she quickly grabbed her purse and was about to run downstairs when Tikki flew in front of her.

“Marinette! Aren’t you forgetting something?” The girl looked around and didn’t catch what Kwami ment. “Your clothes!” Marinette looked down and saw she was still in her pijama. In record time she managed to dress up and was about to run downstairs when Tikki stopped her again. “Backpack?” Once again Marinette rushed to grab her things and get down and not get late. Her parents were already waiting for her in the bakery.

“Here is your breakfast cherie.” Her mother smiled handing her a box of pastries.

“And here is something special for you to share with your boy.” Her father smiled and handed her a box of macaroons. They both had a smile.

“And remember Mari. If he hurts you, just say a word and I will break his every bone into dozen pieces.” Her mother gave her most prominent smile ever. Somehow, it made the threat even more real.

“I will maman. Bye papa! Bye maman!” Marinette shouted and run away before they offered more ‘help’. She loved them, but after yesterday’s evening she was not sure she would allow them to meet Damian any times soon. She couldn’t protect him forever, seeing as he was technically her husband, but she could at least give them some time to get used to the idea of her dating someone. Maybe once Hawkmoth was gone. She did not want to have to escape from another thorny prison. Or maybe after the trip to gotham. They should be happy to see her back that they might not outright kill him for marrying her without their knowledge. She fully planned on telling them everything once there was no threat looming over their heads. Marinette giggled imagining Talia facing her mother. It was funny that somehow the confrontation would always go in favor of Sabine.

She barged into class almost right when the bell rang. None of her classmates cared enough to even batch an eye at her. She did notice Damian in the back and made her way to him.

“I swear… If that harlot tries telling another lie about me or my family, I will not even need the bleacher. They will never know where to look in the first place.” He growled.

“What did she say?” Marinette grasped. While Damian had a soft side, she also knew he would not hesitate to stab her, making it look like a nasty incident.

“She kept babbling about how she knows the Waynes and She and Me have an on and off ‘thing’ and probably this whole trip is because we had a fight and now I want to apologize that way.” His hand twitched dangerously close to his sword. Why did he bring the sword today?

“I can’t let you just stab her. And it’s not like you can convince any of them change their minds that way.” Marinette placed her hand over his, at the same time making sure it would make it harder for him to grab the sword if he heard something more from Lila. “Here. My parents made them for us.” She opened the box of macaroons.

“I am not a fan of sweets.” He answered, but with relief she noticed he stopped glaring daggers at Lila.

“Then try this one.” She pointed to the yellow one. “It’s made with a bit of lemon juice to add more sourness.”

Damian reluctantly picked the treat and took a bite. Suddenly, the corners of his lips went up. She proudly watched the ‘ice prince’ smile at something so common as a macaroon. “This is a very good macaroon. I am sure it could rival whatever Alfred makes.” He exclaimed, trying not to sound overly excited.

“Somehow I feel like this is better compliment than when Uncle Jagged offered to write a song about my parents’ bakery…” She giggled. Damian looked at her stumped. She only giggled again. “You should’ve seen how Tim reacted when he heard. Suddenly next day Wayne enterprises ordered catering for the whole building. Apparently the CEO wanted to celebrate some deal. I am not sure if any worker besides Tim saw the pastries though.”

“Knowing him? I have no idea. If it was Jason or Dick, they wouldn’t even make it to the building before this morons ate it all.” Then, a dark realization dawned on Damian. “Was by any chance a blonde with him when they picked up the order?”

“Uh… I don’t know. I was at school when it happened. Why?”

Damian groaned. He should have connected the dots sooner. Brown was suddenly not hanging in the mansion twenty-four/seven and she was not seen on patrols. Father said that he was aware of her location. “If Brown is here too, then I am almost sure this pastries didn’t make it. And she might be causing a sudden jump in the bakery’s revenue.”

“Huh?” Marinette wasn’t following.

“Stephanie Brown is Drake’s girlfriend. Saying she has a sweet tooth is understatement of the century. More of a sweet jaw if you ask me. She can smell sweets from mile and always get there before you. Especially when Alfred is baking. And she can rival Cass in her stealth skill when it comes to stealing them.” Damian explained to Marinette and watched her stiffen another giggle. What was it with girls and giggling? But Damian had to admit Marinette looked cute when she did. Slow down Romeo or you will crash into a stop sign.

“Well then. I will be happy to bake her something. But Tim didn’t mention her.”

“He said he is running his independent investigation, so I assume you do not see him often?”

“Yeah. He is quite busy at the office. Isn’t he missing the school though?”

“Drake is seventeen and already has three P.H.D. He goes to school either to hang out with his less intelligent friends or to argue with the underpaid teachers by pointing every mistake and inaccuracy.”

“Sounds like fun.” The mention of the teacher suddenly made Marinette aware that Madame Bustier was nowhere to be seen. “We’ve been sitting here for almost twenty minutes now. Maybe I will go check for her…” Marinette suggested more to herself than Damian. She was about to stand up when Madame Bustier walked into the class with Chloe following her. Only now anyone noticed that the blonde was gone.

“Children. Chloe wanted to say something to all of you.” The teacher started.

“Yes. I wanted to apologize for my utterly ridiculous behavior in the past and hope that you will give me chance to earn forgiveness from the better part of you.” Chloe stated nonchalantly.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Taglist (sorry if I missed you)@pheonixashtree @sassakitty @unabashedbookworm @vixen-uchiha @maggiecc12 @actualdisasterwoman @tired-butterfly @shizukiryuu @floralfi @imanerddealwith @northernbluetongue @krispydefendorpolice @toodaloo-kangaroo @dast218 @bluesoulblueheart @theatreandcomicfreak @disneyfoxuniverse @mindfulmagics @alwaysnumberonetruth @nyaabinch @jardimazul @lenamau @rosep16 @dramatic-squirrel @sonif50 @daminett4life @lulutheawkwardess @weird-pale-blonde-person @mooshoon @jeminiikrystal @mochegato @moonlightstar64 @dragonflyswing @silverwhiteraven @shamefullove @magic-miraculous @valeks-princess @heaven428 @mlbchaosqueen @winter-gardenflower @spicybelladonna @emo-elaine13 @vetilora @karukofox21 @my-name-is-michell @sturchling @lokiifriggasonn @redscarlet95 @melicmusicmagic @interobanginyourmom @the-fusionist @razzledazzle247 @miss-mysterys-blog @darkthunder1589 @i-is-mysterious @catthhay @the-one-woman-army @zestyzealot @dahjokester @write-for-your-life2 @mermaidreject @peachedpocky

#fanfiction #fanfic #crossover #mlb #miraculous lb #miraculous ladybug #mlb x dc #maribat #maribat au #marinette x damian #arranged marriage au #damienette #maridami #order of the guardians #league of assassins #batman #guardian!marinette

375 notes · View notes

hearthandhomemagick · 4 years ago

Text

Food For Thought - Steven Universe

Hello there, I would like to tell you my story and journey with the amazingly beautiful, and wonderfully written TV Show...

Steven Universe.

I started watching this show when it first came out in High School. I mean, I was so excited to watch it that I anticipated the very first episode and sat down with snacks to observe it’s premier. I had become immediately enthralled not only with the art style, but also with the genuine wholesomeness and elucidations of processing emotions and life experiences. I was astounded that a kids show could express to me how to manage my emotions as well as connect with my moral standings. It’s a show I recommended to everyone, but often didn’t talk about because of it being a kids show, and me being almost being grown. It was my secret love until someone else brought it up.

This show stuck with me through the years, and helped me through some of my hardest moments in life.

I remember watching the episode, “Mindful Education” and melting into Garnet’s lesson of mindfulness and self-awareness. I had been going through a lot at the end of 2016, graduating and going through a rough election along with having to move states for college. My opinions were forming in the extreme area and I had a fire to protect my thoughts and opinions with no restrain or any form of control of my emotional reality. I was rambunctious as much as I was head-strong and, at times, hard-headed all together.

When this episode aired, I didn’t know why I loved Garnet and Stevonnie’s song, “Here Comes a Thought.” But I did, and it still carries with me into my life today.

I want to discuss a specific time, though, that this episode saved my sanity and opened my eyes to a concept I didn’t understand when I first watched it. I was on social media, and was defending my opinions against quite a few people by myself. Eventually, I was getting nasty comments from a bunch of millennials telling me,

“You’re too fucking stupid to understand, maybe you should go back to school, child.”

“You’re so emotional, and your emotions don’t matter here. Imagine being this dumb.”

“Imagine being a dumb bitch like Carly and saying you wanted to cut your penis off to look like a woman.” *NOTE I am not transgender, there is nothing wrong with being transgender and her insinuating such did not bother me. Her rhetoric insinuating trans was wrong is what irked me, this bitch was transphobic and had issues that she needs to repair in her own time. She wrote an entire post based around this context on her personal page using my real name, and she didn’t even know who I was.*

and my personal favorite, “Here’s the suicide hotline, I know your generation is prone to killing themselves and are overly emotional.”

Now, there were over 50, under 100, messages going back and forth where these people were just bullying me and I refused to back down. I wound up in a panic attack in my bedroom, literally wanting to kill myself because they were bullying me. The hotline would have come in handy if it were the actual hotline. I ended up going to my dad and older sister (my older sisters friend was the main one I was arguing with and her posy showed up on my post), because no one on the post was on my side.

Both told me, “If you can’t handle the heat, stay out of the kitchen.” My sister told her friend to stop, and threatened the other girl for her nasty posts and comments. My dad tried to mediate on the post itself, but the people wouldn’t stop. I eventually had to take it down.

My family didn’t calm me down in this moment. Not even a little bit. It felt like a back-handed helping hand. Like they wanted to protect me, but also somewhat agreed with the people on the post.

The only thing that calmed my nerves in this moment, ultimately, was the song, “Here Comes a Thought.”

I sat in my room, sobbing, hoping to myself that it would make sense as to why it was okay for these things to happen. The song soothed over my nerves, eventually releasing my muscles and giving me a sense ease. I was able to process and realized a few personal things as well. I didn’t realize it, but before long, I was meditating to the song on repeat. I kept telling myself, “I’m okay, this is a thought. A moment. I am not my thoughts. I am not this moment.”

This was simply one of the ways Steven Universe has helped me process and understand myself more. I bring this up because I came across and article today that disappointed me to the core.

The Steven Universe Fandom has toxic tendencies.

I was shook.

How could a child’s show be turned into something so negative? Something that was meant to promote self-awareness, self-love, acceptance of character, and understanding of others had been morphed into a gatekeepers safe haven.

Now I know this isn’t the majority, and before you get offended, hurt or start defending yourself, I want you to ask yourself if what you are defending is an action you would defend from anyone else. If it is, by all means defend your ground.

But the one concept that eludes me, and offers zero substance in terms of valid arguments, is that men can not watch this show. Let me explain why men NEED to watch this fucking show.

My boyfriend watched this entire show, episode for episode, and benefitted from it. This show offered him coping techniques, an understanding of why love should come before war, and mediating every situation so you see and understand every perspective. These are things children shows didn’t offer him growing up, he has often and openly verbalized his need for this show in his childhood because of certain traumas, and we often continue watching it even after seeing every single episode and movie.

This show was never meant for one or two groups of people, and if you feel that way then refer back to the writers themselves who were literally trying to teach the lesson in the show over and over again to NEVER EXCLUDE PEOPLE FROM YOUR GROUP. You exclude people, and you create a division, a war of sorts. You immediately have become the thing Steven Universe advocated against in the first place.

This also leads into the whole “art” situation in the fandom.

This show is anti-bully. There are commercials for it and everything. It is expressed in multiple episodes why bullying is never a good thing in any situation.

You simply cannot justify the hypocrisy in bullying someone out of self-expression that literally harms no one. You can’t justify it.

Think about it. You draw or sketch a piece of art that took you hours, or even a few minutes. It’s your favorite character, and maybe you yourself are going through some mental thoughts regarding your weight that lead you to draw the character thinner or bigger. Size shouldn’t matter in any capacity when relating a character to ones self.

If you’re skinny, you’re beautiful. If you are thick or curvy, you are beautiful. If you are obese or overweight, you are beautiful. Weight doesn’t matter, but representation of body types in different characters does matter.

Imagine a child falls in love with a bigger character, but is experiencing body challenges where she is being picked on for being too thin or scrawny (it happens, I’ve seen it with my nieces). Who are you to say that making her favorite character look like her own body is wrong? Especially if art is a coping mechanism they use for mental health reasons.

Like Malachite, a fusion that was devastating and abusive in every way, you are taking the choice and voice of an entire being to make your actions and opinions “right” or “okay”.

There is so much more I could say on this show, and so much more I could say about the fandom. And I know it is not the majority of the fandom, but I did want to make everyone in the fandom aware that we are human.

None of us are stoic and balanced like Garnet, and even Garnet had problems in her relationship. None of us are strong and laid back like Amethyst, and even she had self-love issues. None of us are as analytical and organized as Pearl, and yet she had problems throughout the series.

None of you are perfect, and to act as if you are is defeating the purpose of a show trying to teach you how to be responsible for yourself and your actions. I’m not perfect either, and preaching about a fandom I’m not a huge part of sounds counter-intuitive, I’m aware.

But my nieces want to watch this show. My nephew watches this show with me. My boyfriend’s niece is going to start watching the show.

Please do not make a toxic environment for kids who need this show to grow up. Kids who experience trauma, and learn from this show deserve a safe space without people trying to justify bullying or force them to think that because they are a boy or girl, they can or can’t watch the show. Without people making people feel bad for being themselves.

Why don’t we create a new space? A space where everyone is accepted as they are, and negative behavior is addressed the same way the gems or Steven would address them. With education, perception awareness, and PATIENCE.

I know some will say, “It’s not my job to raise your child.” and “It’s not my responsibility to make people aware of their tendencies.”

You’re right. It’s also not your responsibility to bully people into changing themselves to fit your dialogue. Simply put, you’re responsible for yourself alone. But you have no right to complain on someone's behavior, art or experiences if you are not willing to be patient with correcting said behavior in yourself first.

Who knows, maybe I’m in the wrong here for not knowing the full story. All I’m saying is, if you see someone being a bully, being mean or even being a hypocrite, call them out in the sweetest way possible. Let them know we are facilitating a safe space for people who need a community rather than a closed off club.

Be the change you want to see in this world.

Learn, grow and prosper.

I wish you all well and genuinely hope we can all expand our perspectives to fully understand each other in healthier and more communicative based ways. We deserve that sort of kindness from each other.

#steven #stevenuniverse #amethyst #pearl #garnet #malachite #cartoonshow #art #love #patience #understanding #herecomesathought #foodforthought

16 notes · View notes

vermillionflames · 4 years ago

Text

part 2

nozel x oc

word count: >2k

warnings: language

I loved the beach. And the sun. I grew up in a dark castle and the sky was always grey, cloudy, and it was always fucking cold. I would sit in front of the fireplace dreaming about beaches and summer and anything else books would describe that was the opposite of winter. I also had a bangin’ body, and since my darling husband wasn’t vacationing with me, I ditched the conservative swimwear he purchased for me and threw on the smallest bikini I could find.

Noelle had joined me on the castle’s private beach. She had brought a book with her, though I could tell she was too busy feeling anxious to be reading. If this girl’s hair wasn’t already white as snow…

“Noelle,” I sat up in my recliner, “Why don’t we work on your control?”

Her head snapped towards me.

“Why?”

“Because Nozel tells me you suck. And honestly, I like how you’re doing your own thing besides what your family says, but I cannot take anymore of his ranting. He’s annoying the hell out of me and since I can’t tell him to shut up I’m going to fix the problem at its root.”

She was absolutely dumbfounded.

“But nothing works. I’ve tried everything.”

“Ah, but you haven’t tried method a la House Grinberryall yet.”

“Grinberry… what’s that?”

“Nothing!” Oopsies. I move to her recliner, crossing my legs and facing her.

“Just sit like this, yes good. Keep your back straight, no one’s around here. Okay now, close your eyes. Put your hands on your knees or something to relax.”

“This seems foolish…” But she did what I said anyway.

“But it works. No concentrate on your mana and how it feels. Keep your breath steady. Good, do you feel it?”

“Feel what?”

Both our heads snapped towards the direction of the voice. A chill went down my spine. The aura was literally sucking out my energy and I was terrified for a split second before I realized I had to prepare to defend myself.

“What are you girls doing out here anyway? Planned a trip without me? I know neither of you could make it to my neck of the woods but surely you could have sent an owl.”

God dammit. Making her way over to us was Mereoleona. The one person we were hiding from.

“Oh, well you see, this is a family trip…” I stood up in hopes to stop her from getting closer. It did not work.

“But you are the only two here?”

“No one else wanted to go?”

“Well, I’m here aren’t I,” she promptly took my spot next to Noelle and put her arm around her neck. “So, what were you feeling?”

“My mana…” Noelle looked to me for help.

“Meditating isn’t going to work for someone like you; you need tough love training. Here, come with me,” She stood up dragging the poor girl by her arm, “I’ll throw you into a volcano and then you get out.”

“Actually,” I got in the middle of them, “Noelle is in my care right now and Nozel would be really, really mad if I let her out of my sight.”

“So you come with us. Easy.”

Why is she yelling?

“Um… I can’t do that. Volcanoes? Not a good idea for me right now.”

Mereoleona cocked her brow at me, Noelle’s jaw dropped. I can never escape it can I?

“Not like that! Ew!”

“Having babies is ew???”

“Noelle, sweetie, why don’t you go over there and practice what I taught you while I talk with Lady Mereoleona.”

“But I want to know about the baby!”

“There is no baby!”

“Noelle you should listen to your big sister… Having babies is ew. And, there is no way your brother would have given her one.”

“Nozel has to give you the baby?”

“Oh? Seraphina hasn’t taught you about this yet? I wanted to train you but this will also be worthy of my time.”

“Don’t you dare tell her anything.”

“Well, somebody has to~”

We spent the next few hours bickering. Eventually we all settled into our own thing. Mereoleona complained the water wasn’t hot enough. Noelle complained about the sand. I complained about the lioness finding us… and the lack of wine.

When the moon rose we moved into the castle's private bath house. Noelle left shortly to go to bed (but we all know she went to go practice what I taught her).

“So, did you bring her here to hide from me or is it because she got her grimoire?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mereoleona. We just both needed some sun.”

“Okay, say what you like… I won’t tell anyone your little secret.”

“I appreciate that,” I rolled my eyes.

“I’m going to head to bed. I have a long day of dealing with my family tomorrow.”

Well, I hope Kirsch is especially flamboyant and Leo is extra loud then.

“Goodnight!”

I glared at the other side of the pool. At least it was her, I guess. Nozel would have my neck for kidnapping his precious baby sister, training her, and letting Mereoleona tell her about “babies being ew.”

I made my way to my room too. Mereoleona was knocked out, I could feel, and Noelle had gone to sleep annoyed that meditating hadn’t made her strong. Well, maybe if you practice more…

I got into bed and turned towards the window to watch the moon. I hope I don’t have any dreams tonight.

----

“Lady Seraphina,” I woke up to my name being called, “Ma’am breakfast will be ready soon. Do you need me to get your gown ready?”

I swatted my hand at the air.

“Leave me be. I’m fine.”

I could hear the door shut so I nuzzled into the covers more. Get my gown ready for me, what was I? A child? I will get dressed when I want to, by myself. For now I’m gonna lay in my bed, naked, and sleep. Wait- Why was there a servant here?! I specifically told Noelle… Maybe Mereoleona brought them. Okay back to sleep. Wait, she would not do that. Oh shi-

Before I have time to open my eyes and fully process my panic, a swoosh rips my blankets off my body. I curl into my body due to the cold air hitting my skin. Nozel throws the blanket onto the floor and crosses his arms, glaring at me. I gulp.

“Hi.”

“Good morning, Seraphina.”

Maybe he’s not mad…

“So, what are the chances of getting that breakfast in bed?”

“Get up.”

Wishful thinking.

“Nozel-”

“I don’t want to hear it,” he turns away from me, “Put some clothes on.”

“Don’t punish Noelle for something I did.”

He turned around again.

“Mereoleona said it was her doing.”

Oh no. Oh god, what do I do now?

The door bursts open and in walks Mereoleona… with her brother behind her! I’m naked and very, very afraid. Thankfully Nozel is quick and makes a mercury wall around me.

“Do you mind?”

“I’m just letting you know she’s innocent. And preventing her from saying anything dumb. She does that a lot, did she hit her head really hard?”

“Sister, we shouldn’t intrude on them and-”

“Aren’t you a little spurious about Nozel’s prize, Fueggy? He has the hot wife and you’re… boring. You might beat him at everything else, but your rival won with the marriage contest.”

“Because it was arranged.”

I rolled my eyes so far back I saw my brain. I felt Nozel get ready to argue.

“Oh my god, can you all just leave,” not that they could see me, but I was giving them the death glare. A bunch of adults acting like children arguing over a rivalry, I think rivalries are stupid. You would think grown men would let go of jealous feelings they had for each other when they were children, but noooo.

Once it was Nozel and I alone again he dropped the wall.

“That is why we wear pajamas. Honestly, how many nightgowns and robes do I have to buy you before you start wearing them?”

“I don’t see the problem with it, Noelle and Mereoleona saw me naked last night in the bath, the servants help me get dressed all the time, and it’s not my fault the Vermillions knocked down my door.”

“Get dressed.”

“No.”

“What did you say?”

“I’m staying here. I need to be away from you,” I hop back into bed, “Thanks for the concern though.”

“You’re coming back with me even if I have to drag you.”

Pfft, uh no.

“That would be too much work for you, husband.”

“Noelle isn’t being as ridiculous as you.”

“Probably because she’s better than me. You just have your head too far up your ass to see it.”

“I beg your pardon-”

“Honestly, what would Acier say if she saw you right now? Do you think she would be very proud of whatever it is you’re doing? I don’t think-”

He put his hands on my shoulders, his face inches from mine, I held my breath.

“Do not,” I probably went a step too far, “ever bring up my mother again.”

I am very aware of how naked I am, how little this man has been this close to me while I’m naked, and I am filled with guilt of bringing Acier into the argument.

“Nozel, I didn’t mean,” I gulp, “I just think you don't have to be so mean to Noelle.”

“And I think you should stick to what you’re good at, which is being Vice Captain and staying out of my family affairs,” He let me go and turned around, “Take your time, but you’ll be expected at the squad meeting at noon. I’ll make sure Noelle gets home.”

And with that he left, but the tension lingered. So Acier struck a nerve. Note to self, bring up something else during an argument.

----

I hate meetings. I’m always expected to say something brilliant or encouraging. I always bull shit my way through them, but this time Nozel was sending me heavy energy. I had better do my best or he’ll be even more upset and god knows what he’ll do. Give me a shitty mission or make me go have tea with the Silva women, probably. God, did I conversing over tea.

Luckily it went by quickly and I seemed to have done a good enough job because I wasn’t bothered the rest of the day. I was supposed to be looking over mission requests and reports, but instead I was reading one of my old diaries. I did this as punishment to myself, because not only was I embarrassing, I was also stupid in love with Nozel and let this book know all about it.

The first entries were about Lady Acier and my infatuation with her. I hung onto every word she said in those days. Then Nozel slowly became the center of my attention. Before he was cold, we would sit and talk about how we’d grow old together. I had a list of our children’s names we picked out together. There were sketches I made of the wedding dress I wanted, which I got, dried petals from flowers he had given me… What I would give to be the young again. Actually, I aged pretty nicely. I just want him to be warm again. And happy.

A paper on my desk caught my eye. It was a list of potential new members of royal or high nobility. I scanned over it. Noelle’s name wasn’t listed. So he was serious about that too?

“Nozel, what will it take for you to stop keeping your emotions locked up?”

#nozel x oc #nozel silva #black clover nozel #nozel x reader #black clover #noelle silva #mereoleona vermillion #working title #my bad guys #angel

15 notes · View notes

princessamericachavez · 6 years ago

Text

Fjorester in episode 60

First, I want to thank our lord Matt Mercer for bringing in a villain that directly calls back to one of Fjord and Jester’s more emotional talks.

We were fed well last night, kids.

Matt: Jester, you gonna move or you gonna stay put?

Jester: uh... I’m gonna...

Travis:

Matt and Travis:

Matt: no pigeons

throwback to Travis whispering “Jester” and motioning for her to run towards him for safety in their first boss fight against the devil toad tho way back in ep 3

Matt: that’s 26 to hit [Jester]

Travis: NO

Jester: I thought jellyfishes were supposed to be so pretty!

Marisha: callback!

Travis: motions his heartbreaking

Me: same, man

[jellyfish exits body]

Fjord: It is not your pet, Jester! It is not a pet!

Jester: I don’t like it!

[after the fight]

Jester: we should heal in before we walk into the room

Fjord: Jester, did you get smacked up?

Jester: uh- I- just a little bit.

[a minute later]

Yasha: Fjord, how’re you doing?

Fjord: I still feel, like, half of my normal self.

Jester: You need, like, something better than just a cure wounds, though.

SHE IS SO WORRIED ABOUT HIM AND SO SAD SHE CAN’T DO MORE TO HELP RIGHT NOW

AND HE WAS WORRIED ABOUT HER

THESE TWO REALLY BRINGING IT IN WITH THEIR “WE LOOK AFTER EACH OTHER” DYNAMIC AND I AM LIVING FOR IT

Especially after last week and the potion sharing and how they are always prioritizing each other’s well being over their own. Both of them were pretty low after that first fight but their instinct was to look out for the other.

[During the third fight]

Travis: Can I run over to where Jester is?

Jester *flirty*: Oh, hi, Fjord!

Fjord *softly*: Hi, Jester.

Jester:

Fjord: ELDRITCH BLAST

Fjord describing his HDYWTDT: I look over at Jester and “no look”

Laura: nice

Fjord:

Jester:

Fjord: I killed the jellyfish! For you.

Jester:

Jester: Thanks, Fjord.

Fjord *all proud of himself*: No problem.

Jester: Good job

I am LIVING for this change of their dynamic. I will probably talk more about it later, but it’s actually been building up for a while. We saw it since the last few eps of the pirate arc, with Fjord very obviously paying extra attention to Jester, her needs, complimenting her, staying close to her, etc. But I love how loud it’s become lately.

Jester is clearly taken off guard right after he dedicates the kill to her, though. I don’t blame her. Having a long time crush suddenly pay that kind of attention to you can knock you off your feet.

It reminded me a little of earlier “funny romance” moments, like Fjord giving her a potion like a knight in shining armor, or sexily emerging from the water, or being overly dramatic as he gets some trash off her eye...

The difference being that while the others could be played off as only funny and accidentally romantic on his side, this one feels far more deliberate on Fjord’s side. Like he wants to make sure she knows he is flirting.

Also, how nice to see the obvious flirting after Jester felt stupid for thinking “they are flirting back but they probably weren’t” back in Darktow.

I also think, seeing the jellyfish kinda brought back memories of that one talk they have and made them both hyperaware of the other (i love how they keep saying hi to each other in battle it’s so cute) but also considering something beautiful got turned into something dangerous, Fjord might be trying extra hard to cheer Jester up and still make the whole “jellyfish” thing a romantic thing, if not by their beauty then by his courting her.

Also, how crazy accurate was that jellyfish talk foreshadowing about the things that are the most beautiful hurting you the worst

Again, thanks Matt for my life.

Beau @ Fjord: it’s a weird analogy for your... romance, considering the context.

I mean, Beau is right lmfao. Fjord using “killing a jellyfish” as a sexy and romantic move, after the jellyfish had been part of their more emotionally vulnerable conversation is not ideal...

but what I appreciate most is Beauregard recognizing in-game the existence of a romance between Fjord and Jester. It’s no longer something “unspoken” or something only a few are aware, not even something taken as a joke.

As far as Beau is concerned, these two are definitely doing... whatever it is they are doing. Even if neither of them has fully admitted to it or even grown aware of it yet.

Jester and Fjord critiquing Beauregard’s sketches together was so funny, too. This trio has been amazing from day one.

These two assholes often tag-team to mess with people and it’s hilarious. He’s all into her shenanigans and she loves playing off of him.

Fjord: talking funny to Nott about investigating the piece of fabric they found.

Jester: what? why are you being so weird?

Laura: I’m gonna look Fjord in the eyes. I’m gonna look him in the eyes and see if he’s, like, possessed or something.

Jester: *gently grabs Fjord’s face and looks directly into his eyes*

Fjord: *heart eyes*

NEED

FANART

THIS

MOMENT

PLEASEEEEE

Also, though, I do wonder if when she said he was being weird, she meant only what he’d just said, or if Jester thinks that would be the reason for his flirting.

He doesn’t like me like that so if he’s doing this there MUST be something wrong with him, right?

But NO it’s all him.

Fjord: but is it just arcane means or is it the use of... dudimancy

Jester:

Fjord:

Jester:

THESE DORKS, I SWEAR TO GOD

And then there were so many moments that blurred the lines between ooc and ic but they were awesome too so here:

[Jester about to take her turn] “You got it, Jessie. C’mon!”

[Jester tries to close the riff] “C’mon, Jess!”

This one was kinda in and out of character at the same time? But they did the IC voices so who knows?

Jester: Hey, Fjord, what’s that drink you got there?

Fjord: muddy water

Jester: Can I have some?

Fjord: no

*two minutes later*

Fjord: can you pass this along to that grumpy little tiefling?

Anyway, that was so much fun!!!! Did I miss anything??

#fjorester #fjord #jester lavorre #critical role #cr spoilers #sofia's nonsense

192 notes · View notes

thepenismightierandallthat · 5 years ago

Text

Masquerade

Sirius Black x OC Marauder Era

So ya gal is sad and wrote this to try and cope with the fact that the guy I had a thing with lied to my face and got a girl to cheat on her boyfriend with him, after swearing he wasn’t using me just because she was taken. (Spoiler alert: he’s a fucking liar and I was just for when she was unavailable)

It doesn’t make much sense and tbh I will probably delete this tomorrow but it helped me get a few things off my chest so that’s good I suppose

Anyway, enjoy or whatever

Drabble Time

Oh that felt good. Adelaide sank down into the bath, really it should be considered a pool, the bubbles covering her body and heat wrapping around her bones. This was her favourite thing about being a prefect. The prefects bathroom.

Rumours had obviously swept through Hogwarts for years, tales of a golden toilet that felt like sitting on a cloud (Untrue. It was just like a regular toilet) A bath with healing powers. (Debatable) The prefects were happy enough to play along, enforcing the rumours and even adding to them. Really it was probably a major factor in why a lot of the students wanted to be prefect.

Addie hadn’t actually started Hogwarts with the dream of being a prefect like some of the students, it just so happened her good grades in her subjects and penchant for rules happened to land her in the position she was in now. And she had never been so thankful.

Her eyes closed as the warmth of the water and relaxing scent of the bath oils surrounded her, a groan escaping her lips.

“Enjoying yourself Pierce?”

She would have jumped at the voice, too recognisable to her now, if she wasn’t so used to him being in places he shouldn’t be.

“I wasn’t aware you were a prefect Black.” She knew he couldn’t see anything, the bubbles covering every inch of the water made sure of that but she sunk slightly lower in the water just in case.

He leaned against the wall nonchalantly, arms crossed over his chest and a grin on his face, as she glanced at him over her shoulder. “Stranger things could happen.”

“What are you doing here?” She sighed. Just when she was starting to relax, he had to find her and make her all…tense. She wouldn’t be here nearly as often as she was if it wasn’t for his constant presence.

“Well right now I’m really enjoying the view.”

Adelaide rolled her eyes, used to these type of comments from him. “We both know you can’t see anything.”

“You could quite easily change that…”

“Sod off Sirius.” Addie tried to relax and ignore him, closing her eyes and leaning her head back again, but was interrupted once again by the voice of Sirius Black.

“Look, I might have followed Remus here a few times.” He frowned at her when she snickered. She was just as bad as he was. “Not like that. He kept disappearing. So I help myself to its luxuries when I can. No need to let them go to waste.”

“Well as you can see it’s preoccupied. So go on back to the common room.” She really wasn’t in the mood for him today. Couldn’t he see she was just trying to relax!

“Enough room for both of us. Look at the size of this thing.” He told her as he slipped his shirt from his shoulders, letting it crumple on the floor. When he saw Adelaide looking he winked at her and gestured at the bath. “That thing too.”

“You better put your shirt back on Black. We are not bathing together.” She was starting to get angry and sat up slightly in the bath just as he dropped both his trousers and underwear. “Oh God-“ She turned around as quickly as she could, trying to hide the redness that now coated her cheeks. “You really have no shame do you?!”

“I have nothing to be ashamed of. It’s rather lovely thank you very much, many girls have been more than pleased with it.” He grinned at her as he sunk below the water and waded to the opposite side of the bath. To say she was uncomfortable was an understatement.

“I don’t want to know about that Black. I’ve already had to interrupt you in broom closets far too often for my liking.” She tried to ignore the fact that Sirius Black was opposite her in a bathtub, the both of them completely naked, but it was harder than you’d think.

“Maybe if you knocked first-“

“You’re not supposed to be in there!”

“And where would you recommend? The dorm room is out of the question Prongs and Moony have already forbid me from doing that again.”

“Firstly, the abandoned Charms classrooms near the library are a better option you can charm them and the prefects and teachers never check in there anyway. Secondly, I’m not surprised they forbid you, it’s really hard to sleep with that going on a bed over. We’ve had the same talk with Mary.”

“The abandoned Charms classrooms, genius!” “Why have I never thought of that…”

“Because contrary to what you believe you’re not that clever Black.”

“I wasn’t expecting you of all people to know where to take someone for fooling around.”

“I’m not sure if I should be insulted. I feel like I am.”

“Come on, you’ve never once returned the advances of any of the guys hitting on you the entire time we’ve been at Hogwarts!”

“That’s because no one’s hit on me?”

“Are you being stupid?” “I can name at least 4 just this month alone!”

“Black just because every girl that speaks to you has ulterior motives doesn’t mean it’s the same for everyone.”

“Do you have ulterior motives?”

“Do you want me to slap you?”

“If that’s what you’re into.”

“God you’re disgusting.”

“It’s what makes me your favourite. It’s fine, it’s only us, you can admit here.”

“Please can you just leave? I’m trying to relax and you being here isn’t allowing that.”

“I know better ways of relaxing….”

“I could give you detention for this you know.”

“But then everyone would know we were in a bath together. And knowing you, that’s not something you’d like people to know is it?”

“I’m going to get out now. Turn around.”

“It’s not anything I haven’t seen before Pierce.”

“Be that as it may, turn around. I’m not giving you a free show on top of the perfect bath I’d ran.”

“You can’t be a prude your whole life, Ad.”

“I told you not to call me that.”

“Sorry, Adelaide.”

“Not that either.”

“So what am I supposed to call you?”

“Nothing. In fact, just don’t talk to me.” Addie made to leave, her hair dripping wet and cheeks flushed. Definitely just from the heat of the bath and not the lewd way Sirius had said her name. “Enjoy your bath, Black.” With that she left, the portrait swinging shut softly behind her and droplets of water sliding down her back. God she hated Sirius Black.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So when are we doing that again?” Sirius grinned from ear to ear as he slipped into the seat opposite Adelaide’s fortress she’d built out of books and parchment at her table tucked into a corner in the library.

Everyone knew this was Addie’s table. She’d practically adopted it since the beginning of first year. Tucked nicely into the far corner, away from the noisier games of chess, and nestled between two bookshelves. The view was an added bonus, with a look over the lake and grounds, especially beautiful when it was painted with the strokes of bronze and orange that were the tell-tale sign of autumn. She felt safe here, hidden and unseen where she didn’t have to think about anything but the homework she had to complete or sketch she was currently in the middle of it. It was her safe haven. Well it was. Until a certain “Marauder” had discovered this was where she could almost always be found.

Adelaide rolled her eyes, not even lifting her head from the essay she was writing on the importance of Reparifarge and its history. “Please don’t say that like something happened.”

“Are you telling me sharing a bath didn’t mean anything to you? That’s cold Pierce.” Sirius slung one arm over the back of the chair next to him while his other hand gripped his chest in mock pain.

Lifting her head and brushing the curtain of auburn hair away from her face, Adelaide narrowed her eyes at the shit-eating grin that was gracing his face. “Please. We both know nothing a girl has done with you has meant anything. It’s “all fun and games”. Isn’t that what you said about the last fling?”

“Well you can just read me like a book can’t you?”

“Quite the opposite actually. You’re probably the most difficult person to read I’ve ever met. I feel like I’m trying to read a book in a language I can’t even identify let alone understand.”

“I think I’m Latin. Everyone loves the language but no one fully knows it do they?”

“There are many people that know Latin, Black.”

Sirius let out a soft laugh, shaking his head to himself at her dry comment. He leaned back in the wooden chair, precariously balancing it on two legs. He tipped his head to the side, studying Addie carefully before speaking. “Why don’t you let people see this Ad?”

She was so thrown off by the question she didn’t even get angry at him for his use of the nickname she hated. A frown pulled at her eyebrows as the quill in her hand froze and her eyes flew to his. “See what?”

“You.” He dropped the legs of the chair flat to the floor, laying his forearms on the table, his eyes boring into hers. “Like the real you? You’re funny without trying, you’re so smart, you know you don’t know everything and you’re not scared of showing it. Here you’re not hiding, even though technically you are.”

Adelaide didn’t know how to respond to that. Her cheeks heated and she broke the eye contact they were holding. “Is that a compliment Black?”

“Oh come on, we were just getting somewhere there. You’re hiding again.”

“I need firewhiskey for a conversation like this.”

“I can help with that. Astronomy tower tonight? I’ll even bring you a blanket.”

Her eyes flickered between his, looking for a sign of a joke, a reason why for her to not trust him. She couldn’t find it and before she could think better had nodded curtly at him before bowing her head down and pretending to go back to work.

Sirius had known her long enough to know this was an acceptance of his offer and there was no doubt she’d be there that evening. With nothing left to say and a giddy feeling in his stomach that he couldn’t quite pinpoint, Sirius stood from the table, leaving Addie alone in her corner once again. He had some preparing to do.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Adeladie hadn’t really know what to expect as she’d tiptoed up the astronomy tower stairs to meet Sirius in his most infamous spot, but this definitely wasn’t it. Candles flickered, casting the open aired room in a soft warming glow. It was clear he’d also charmed it as the biting cold of a British autumn didn’t pick at her skin, instead a calming warmth enveloped her. Blankets and cushions were strewn on the floor, creating something similar to her set-up usually found in the common room during OWLS.

Sirius stood against a railing, sipping a glass of fire whiskey and staring out at the darkened grounds of the castle they’d come to call home. Where Addie had her corner, Sirius had the astronomy tower. Up here he didn’t have to worry about anything, his family, his future, they all seemed so small in comparison to the world laid out before him. This view really brought it into perspective.

Stopping next to him, Adelaide held out an empty glass to she’d picked up on the way in. He lifted the bottle resting next to him, pouring a generous amount of the amber liquid into her glass. She tipped her head back, swallowing it in one, her eyes closing at the slight burn in her throat. Sirius couldn’t help but notice how similar the colour of the whiskey and her hair were, how they both caused a warmth to settle in his bones.

“I hide, because it’s easier than being left.” Addie had copied his stance, looking out over the grounds of Hogwarts, their shoulders almost touching, but her gaze of the refection of the moon in the water below.

“When I was a kid, my dad left my mum. They weren’t good together, they were much better apart. She got lighter when he left, like the first sign of sun after winter. They were always arguing before, it made our doors rattle.”

“After he left things were good, they were both happier, able to breathe. It was good. But then he stopped trying with me too. He didn’t even attempt to fight, he just left and I never heard from him again. Or the rest of his family. They just happily left me behind like I was just a small mistake. That was 10 years ago.” She looked at the empty glass in her hands, it was cold against her burning skin. She took a deep breath before continuing. “I figured after that, that if someone who is supposed to love me unconditionally could just leave without a second thought, what would stop anyone else? It would be easier to never let anyone get close, that way it wouldn’t hurt me when they left.” Addie could see Sirus move to say something. She stopped him before he could, a horrible broken laugh falling from her lips. “Don’t try any of that but what if they don’t leave bullshit.” Addie took the bottle from Sirius’ hand, taking a swig directly from the bottle. “They always left. Or chose someone else. Or got bored. Either way they never stuck around long. So then I stopped letting them find me. I got very good at hiding in plain sight.”

“No one should leave you. I don’t know how they could.”

“Sirius you don’t need to. I’ve heard this same speech from countless people. “He wasn’t a good father. You deserve more than that.” Etcetera, etcetera.” Her hand was being waved around like it wasn’t a big thing, like getting a low grade on homework for divination.

“They’re right.I just thought about never seeing you again. Like after Hogwarts, and I just-“ Sirius took the bottle back, coping Addie’s movements from earlier. “The idea of not having you in my life seems so wrong. I can’t even imagine it, it makes me feel sick.”

“That’s sweet.” The smile she gave him was sad and sour and felt bitter in Sirius’ mouth. “But Sirius, you’ll leave. They always do. It’s not an if, it’s a when. It’s the only thing I know is guaranteed. And it’s not your fault, it’s no one’s really. But I’m not equipped to handle leaving.”

“I think you’re equipped for leaving. You’ve handled it more than anyone should have to. I don’t think you can handle people staying.”

Adelaide stood up, taking one last swig of the fire whiskey Sirius had no doubt stolen for her. “Black. I really appreciate this talk, listening to me, it means a lot. But you’re getting that look in your eyes. You can’t fix me, I’m not something to fix. I am the way I am, and no amount of whispered promises and vows to stay are going to change it.”

He watched her carefully, could see her waring with words behind her eyes. She deserved so much more than she’d been handed in life. She deserved to have people keep their promises. She deserved to be able to show the world her fire, how brightly she could burn, the inferno she could engulf everyone with. Adelaide Pierce deserved to be happy and show it.

And he knew he wasn’t the one that could give that to her. He’d just be another person that left her. He knew that, and he knew it would break him too.

He watched as she adjusted her mask back into place, nothing said by either of them, as he had the distinct feeling of losing someone in a masquerade and knowing you’d never find them again.

#Harry Potter #sirius imagine #sirius black #marauders era #drabble #writing #sirius x oc #sirius x ofc #orignal character #harry potter imagine #harry potter drabble #harry potter fanfiction #sirius black fanfiction

14 notes · View notes

welcometopergatory · 5 years ago

Text

1/31/20: Rough Landing.

It’s been a good while since I've accessed this blog. I’m hardly active on my main Instagram where it counts, why would i be good at maintaining a blog on the side I guess(?)

Quick note, after spending an embarrassing amount of time trying to morph this tumblr into a simple yet effective and functional blog, I’ve come to the conclusion that I know absolutely NOTHING about computers or coding. This is bad. Forget trying to create a functional informative blog, how am i gonna successfully create and maintain a host space for SFG when that time comes?

SFG, That comic iv’e been talking about for years now. YES, the comic is still in progress. YES, it’s not finished some couple odd years after it should have been. I have my reasons but sometimes they feel more like they might be just excuses. I can’t tell anymore. Here goes, bit of a long one.

I currently work 2 jobs. One part time and one full time. As you can imagine, this takes up a massive amount of my time and energy. Especially my full time job, working overnight, which leaves me absolutely drained and asleep for most of the day. Bad.

Life happens. If it’s not working or sleeping, its running errands, family engagements and obligations, upkeep around the apartment, keeping myself fed. It’s amazing how much of a burden cooking a whole ass meal actually is. All of this takes up about 80% of my downtime. Maybe I’m just bad with time management.

I am my own worst enemy. I struggle immensely with a lot of internal issues. There’s no reason to get into the details, but i’m a person who struggles daily with a stupid amount of self esteem issues in almost every aspect of my life. And at their worst, they are CRIPPLING. so much so, that I recently went through a 6 MONTH slump losing confidence in my art and my dream. 6 months of my comic and drawing tools to collecting dust. This was a major, MAJOR blow. Setting back a comic already behind by 2 YEARS for an additional 6 MONTHS.

I am a one man team. This one is probably a bit obvious, but I’m the brains and the brawn behind the whole comic. I do the rough drafting, paneling, layouts, sketching, inking, editing, scripting. on a given workday, I spend a whopping 4 to 5 hours actually awake and able to accomplish my daily activities. Thanks, overnight job. Like i said before, most of this time is spent maintaining my living space and keeping myself fed and ready to return to work. On a day where I work both jobs? FORGET IT. There is no free time, just one job straight to another with a nap in between. This makes trying to squeeze the many facets of creating a comic HARD, and forces me to pick and chose what I can really focus on in a given day.

What about my days off? See complaint #2. Look, all of this really falls on me and my decision to pursue creating a long form comic. I knew what I was getting into, yes. And I’m aware it won’t get any easier, at least for a long time if at all.

Within the first month of 2020 alone, a lot of very big and very scary personal things have happened to me. This year is going to be difficult. Very hard decisions are going to be made, and massive changes are going to take place. Neither of which I’ve ever been good at coping with. But sometimes change is unavoidable and needed. And some of these changes and decisions are things I've been running from and can’t escape anymore tbh. More on that on in a later post, as this one has ran on for too long and people don’t like to read long things, I know.

For the time being, things are moving along. The comic is slowly crawling to completion, and (Here’s that estimated deadline I ALWAYS give and FAIL at delivering on) I’m HOPING to have the comic fully finished, edited, and out the door by mid to late August. Don’t quote me.

If you took the time to read any of this, thank you and that means a lot considering I probably wouldn’t even read this massive thing myself. I owe you the best work I’m capable of producing. And no matter what happens to me or where I end up, SFG will continue no matter what. It has to. Lastly,

Pergatory still lives.

5 notes · View notes

maokokusei · 6 years ago

Note

Thank you so much for answering my sketchbook ask! Sorry if it was confusing! If you want I think it would be cute to see their reaction to their crush noticing them wanting a portrait and said character finds it on their bed or somewhere later by surprise!! ;) It’s up to you though and thanks for the headcanons! Poor Lexaeus needs to be confident!

No, it’s okay! I thank you for the requests, I really need them, as I just recently opened this blog. :)And for Lexaeus…don’t worry, I’ll give him this gift now (as well the rest of the cuties)

Xemnas

─ This man soon noticed that you might have caught his desire for it, but says nothing. He doesn’t want to show you that you’re right;

─ When he retires to his room though, he found an unexpected surprise on his bed that immediately caught his sight;

─ Xemnas slowly approaches towards his bed, and calmly picks up the sheet of paper in his hands: he frozes when he realizes that’s a portrait ofhim. And the draw style looks so…familiar;

─ When he reads that is a present for him by you, he sighs in relief, approaching the sketch close to his chest. He will be lost in his thoughs for some seconds, before quickly hiding the sketch before someone could jump in and see it;

─ The next day, he will act like nothing has happened. He initially will avoid your gaze as much as possible, because he doesn’t want to show you that he really liked your gift.

Xigbar

─ To your misfortune, you’re forced to draw him right now, with him already in pose and a sexy look on his face. He will not accept a “no”;

─ When he sees you smiling at him for absolutely wanting a portray made by you, though, he frozes…

─ “Hey, kiddo, what are you laughing at?!…”

─ There’s an awkward silence between both you, but then, you start to draw him, asking him to return on his pose;

─ Once you finished, he immediately jumps at you, impatient to see the result: but you will stop him, because you had to edit it yet;

─ He will make a snort…but he has no choice;

─ When he retires from his last mission, he will notice that someone has put something on his bed;

─ “Who the FUCK put me this on my bed—!”

─ He will istantly shut himself when he notices that is a piece of paper, and not a simple one: his skecth…finally it’s done;

─ He will be super excited to see it, and will gladly admire it, giving himself compliments for being so handsome.

Xaldin

─ He’s counting on you to draw him well, so you’d better not disappoint his expectations;

─ He’s patient though, and allows you to take your time for that;

─ Meanwhile, when you’re in the middle of drawing him, he will ask himself some questions;

─ “God. What in the world am I doing?”

─ When he sees that you’re smiling because he’s so wanting that portrait, he will blush a little, trying to hide it in every possibly way;

─ Once the portray is “finished”, he will leave without another word…you know, you have still to edit it;

─ He will enter in his room, and istantly notice that something’s on his bed. So he carefully grabs the sheet of paper…

─ You really done it. And only for him;

─ This fact couldn’t not make him happy. He’s so proud of your skills, and for well-finished the sketch…like he was expecting from you.

Vexen

─ He noticed lately that you had become suspicious in front of his behaviour when you’re drawing…and this fact drove him crazy;

─ Vexen doesn’t what to do. What if you will mock him? If you’ll tell everyone that he actually desires a portrait from you?

─ He surely can’t prevent that: now it’s been embarassing only looking at you…!

─ He will think about this too much, and this will become stressful for him for most of the time, unconsciously growing your suspictions;

─ One day, when he finally retires in his room, he sats on his bed. And when he’s about to lay, he notices that something’s under him;

─ “What’s this?…”

─ This guy will immediately act with surprise when he sees that is a portrait of himself. The one who desired so badly to ask you…

─It can’t be real…!

Lexaeus

─ Recently, this guy has the sensation that you might become suspicious…

─ “What to do…?”

─ Even if the idea embarass him, and it become hard to only look at you, he’ll act like nothing has happened. But still, he will try to avoid your gaze as much as possible. He doesn’t want to show you that he’s actually embarassed;

─ When he will arrive to his room, he will notice only after a few minutes that someone has put something on his bed…a sheet of paper;

─ Curious, but at the same time suspicious, he slowly approaches the bed…and he’s really surprised to see that’s a portrait of himself. And he istanly recognize who tihis came from;

─ He will smile a little to himself, holding the paper to his chest. He’s oh so much relieved, but when he realizes that his suspect has been foundend, he will be more embarassed and immediately hide the sketch somewhere;

─ “Oh god!…”

Zexion

─ Timidly, he will let you drawing him, once you told him to assume a certain position for the skecth;

─ Even if after some time his body hurts from staying stable too much, he doesn’t try to tell you if you’re done or not: the fact that he really decided to ask you this make him slightly blush on the first place, once he realized tbat he asked you this;

─ But what is done it’s done, right? Besides, he would be really curios to see how you will portray him;

─ The days after, he hadn’t stop thinking about the other day, if maybe hes has made the right choice…

─ Meanwhile, when he approaches his bed, he notices a piece of paper on it…and his eyes widen istantly;

─ “It’s…wonderful…”

─ Not because the portrait represents himself. He never imagined you improved so much in this weeks…he’s simply surprised, but most importantly, he’s happy;

─ He will immediately come to you to thank you, and gives you slightly compliments (you know, he’s a timid cute guy). It will be difficult for him to hold his happiness.

Saïx

─ He becomes aware that you noticed his desire for a sketch from you…and the idea makes him frustrate;

─ What if you could tell anyone about that?

─ But, on the other hand, he can’t come at you and threaten you about a small thing…it’s the first time he doesn’t know what to do;

─ It will think about that even too much. But, when he arrive at his room, lost in his thoughst, he soon after notices something on his own bed: a paper…

─ It’s with calm that he takes it, his golden eyes blink when he sees that is actually a portrait of himself. He can istantly recognize your design, and the thought that you just make his wish come true, he becomes all flustered, and says nothing;

─ You know, he needs the time to realize what just happened yet.

Axel

─ He actually becomes imbarassed after he asked you if you can make a portrait of himself only for him…but it’s not like he can rewind time, right?

─ What is done it’s done…and he knows you will not dissappoint him with the result, he thinks, while staying stable there for the sketch;

─ He’s a curios (maybe too curios) guy, and wants to see the drawing right after you’re done…but you will stop him, because he obviously needs to wait yet;

─ It’s on a sigh that he gives up on the first try: he doesn’t want to show you how much he has looked for it…it will ridiculize himself. But it’s not like he doesn’t have a crush on you;

─ When he soon approaches his bed and sats on it, he feels like he squashes something. He verifies what’s on his bed, and after finding the sketch out of the blue, he freakes out and immediately checks if he ripped it;

─ But it’s not, somehow. He’s relief about that, especially when he sees himself paintend on that piece of paper…it might seem ridiculous for a Nobody, but actually that piece of paper it’s important for him, and will make sure he will never lose it/squashes it again.

Demyx

─ Honestly, he’s just too impatient and curios to see the result of the sketch, once you finished to portray him. He will not try to hide that…but will start when he sees you laughing at his behaviour, which makes him blush;

─ Now, he’s so embarassed that he doesn’t know what to do;

─ When you tell him that he needs to be patient, he’ll nods calmly without saying nothing, his cheeks still flustered. He doesn’t managed to control his excitement, like usual, and he can’t stop thinking about you seeing you laughing at this…

─ The next few days, after returned from a mission, he jumps on his bed, but notices that something stands by his side. A sketch. His sketch!

─ Surely nothing will ruin his good humor, or at least, not so easily.

Luxord

─ He soon notices that you’re aware of his desire for you to draw a sketch of himself. Initially, the fact doesn’t bother him: but when he sees you smiling, he could feel a sensation of embarassement when he’s around you;

─ Once you finished to portray him, he’ll doesn’t show that he cares that much, even when you tell him that he had to wait;

─ In reality though, he’s really impatient to see the result. He doesn’t want to force you, of course (also becaue like I said, he doesn’t want to show you that he actually cares);

─ When he finds the portray on his bed the next few days, he will examinate it, before realizing what it is: he’s proud of you, but he had to admit it, he’s shy on showing that.

Marluxia

─ Once he finally managed to ask a drawing of himself to you, he’ll try to avoid your gaze as much as possible while waiting your response;

─ When you’re in the middle of portray him though, he’ll begin to act like he doesn’t care at all. He will talk sometimes, to break the awkward silence between the two of you, stating that you shouldn’t misurdenstand the reason why he asked you that, and such;

─ The work is done, finally, but he’ll be patient when you state that you had still to work on that;

─ When he finds it on his bed, at first he will be surprised: it’s when he fully realizes what just happened he will take the sketch in his hands, admiring it with a proud look on his face.

Larxene

─ She will act with vanity once you ask her to assume a certain pose while you’re drawing her and there’s her excuse to look herself handsome in front of you;

─ She realizes meanwhile that you’re laughing, once you realized how much she desires a “simple” sketch made by you;

─ “What are you laughing at? Eh!?”

─ Larxene sometimes doesn’t know what the patience is, but on the other hand, she doesn’t want to insist…or she surely will end in an awkward situation, thing that she absolutely wants to avoid;

─ The time she will find the sketch on her bed, she will be really excited…and she’s sincerely impressed by your work;

─ She barely likes anything, so yeah, you made a good job.

Roxas

─ He will act shy when you tell him to assume a pose for the sketch, especially when he sees you smiling at him; it will end in some awkward hour of silences…

─ When you state that you’re done, he’s excited inside. But oustside he’s prudent, and calmly approaches to you with a blushing face;

─ “W-well… Can I see it?”

─ He istantly will nods when you tell him that you had still some work to do, and allow you to take all the time you need;

─ When Roxas finds the sketch on his bed after a stressful day, his umor will change istantly into surprised…but most importantly, the most little and happy boy ever;

─ He’s sperimenting a happiness that he never felt before, so he needs to get used to this new sensation.

45 notes · View notes

hurt-care · 6 years ago

Text

His Lordship’s Gardener - Part 2

This is part 2! If you haven’t read Part 1, you can find it here

Cowritten with @salamanderskin

The early light finds Isaiah Cartwright sleeping soundly in the wide four-poster bed of the guest room at Woodhaven. It is another warm morning and he has kicked the blankets off in the night, so he that his striped pyjamas stand out against the white bottom sheet which is rucked and tangled by a night's tossing and turning. He wakes gradually, and the first thing he is aware of his head. He is no longer so congested but his sinuses have taken up such a tight, high ache that for a moment upon opening his eyes he thinks he must have spent the night before drinking, or crying, or possibly both. He raises an uncertain hand to touch his eyelids. His eyes are certainly puffy enough for the latter, though better by far than they had been at Kew. Despite the discomfort he is not one to waste the morning and he rises at once, and by the time he has had a cup of tea with the servant he is feeling much better.

The memory of the night before seems to cling to his skin. He only has to close his eyes to feel again the sensation of Elder's touch, and he finds himself returning to the memory often as he spends the day draughting sketches of the grounds, consulting books on geometry and architecture to help him refine his plans for the glasshouse. He hides in a corner of Elder's capacious library and works diligently, pausing only to dip his head away from his paper for quick triple fits of sneezes, carefully smothered to protect the studious silence even though he is it's only subject. Even these outbursts come to remind him of the gentle way Elder had tended to his nose, making the rose-cold doubly distracting to him. He thinks he read in the press of the man's body a desire for something further, and the memory intrigues him, yet it is laced with a keen sense of awkwardness. What if last night was a one-off, never to be repeated? Elder's status over his is such that he would never dare presume... He was never any good at reading women, and he can fears he can read Lord Elder's attentions not at all. For this reason Isiah spends most of the next day avoiding the other man out of sheer nerves. As he returns to his room, stepping quietly on the wooden floorboards as he passes Elder's study, he sharply aware that he cannot keep this up forever. Back in his own chambers, Elder spends a restless night. The cold sheets of his own bed are unwelcoming and constricting, and he ends up doing a good deal of anxious pacing and sitting in the armchair by the window, staring out at the back garden. His nervous temperament has never been keen on the perils of romance and when he wakes in the morning, his heart still races. He has a maid draw a cool bath and he soaks for an hour, unable to get the young gardener out of his mind. The broad lines of his chest, the slim angle of his hips, the delicate arch of his nose… He burns deep in the pit of his belly at the memory. Though he knows it is not more than a lustful sin, he resorts to touching himself in the bath and is slumped over within a minute, somewhat relieved but still mind still racing. His lunch he takes in his study and passes his time reading a detailed study of the rose-cold treatments until he is too worked-up by the persistent memory of Isaiah and he has to find something else to occupy his mind. When the floorboards outside his study creak with passing footsteps, he rises, expecting that it is Anna, one of the housemaids, who is cleaning the upstairs rooms. Eager for a cup of cool lemonade, he opens his study door and pokes his head out, only to find Cartwright just down the hall. “Hello, Mr. Cartwright,” he says, surprised. “Are you feeling better?” More footsteps come down the hall and Anna rounds the corner with a large bouquet of fresh flowers in her arms. “Good afternoon, sir,” she says, inclining her head. “Thought these would be nice to freshen up your study.” Elder’s heart skips several beats and his palms begin to sweat. “I thought I had instructed Bishop!” he snaps. “No flowers inside, whatsoever. They cause an adverse reaction in Mr. Cartwright, here.” “The gardener?” Anna asks incredulously, looking at Cartwright. “Landscape architect, Miss Porte.” Isaiah's features flicker from nervous to pleased and then back again. He is not sure whether to be delighted at Elder's defense of his profession or embarrassed at causing a scene, however slight, in the otherwise tranquil household. “Please, my Lord, I do not wish to be an inconvenience.” He is aware of the ridiculousness of Elder's statement from the maid's perspective. He stands a good foot over her, smart and formal in his day suit, and the bouquet in her arms is so soft and pretty that the suffering it represents for him is difficult to rationalize. Despite this mental conviction, he can already feel his nose beginning to prickle. He fights the desire to rub at the corner of his eyes. He knows by now that what begins as a transient ticklishness will soon have him in fits if he cannot get away from the source of it, but it would be the height of rudeness to simply flee the scene. Caught between Lord Elder and the maid with her armful of flowers he rocks nervously on the balls of his feet, waiting desperately for the encounter to be over. If he does not breathe too much through his nose, perhaps he can stave off the now-familiar sensation of impending sneeziness. Then again, perhaps not, for he feels his breath began to hitch despite his best efforts and he casts an imploring glance at his employer. “I'm sure Miss Porte meant well.” He attempts. Then his expression takes on expression of urgency and he turns away from the pair of them. He barely manages to reach for his handkerchief in time, supplying Elder a glimpse of his lips parting, eyebrows tilted upwards and nostrils flared wide before he doubles over with a characteristic fit of three. His politeness is impeccable, but the sound of the last betrays his frustration in a more forceful outburst, as though attempting to sign off and be finished. “--idtssh!-ittssh!-idtssh!” As he raises his head, the lingering twitch to his nostrils suggests he shall have no such luck. “Is there a reason you are still standing here dumbstruck before me, Miss Porte?” Elder snaps as he digs in his pocket for the spare clean handkerchief he's starting carrying for the poor Mister Cartwright. He passes it to the gardner with an apologetic look. He rarely shouts at the servants, but he is livid and makes a mental note to discuss the matter with Bishop at a later date. “Yes, sir,” Anna replies, lowering her eyes as she gives a slight curtsy. Bouquet in arms, she brushes past the pair, hurrying down the hallway to the back stairs. As soon as she is gone, Elder rushes forward, taking Cartwright's arm and looking at his face with tenderness, examining the man's rapidly reddening eyes. “My most sincere apologies,” he says, his hand finding the knob to Cartwright's chambers and opening the door. “Please, inside.” He ushers the man into the rooms and towards the bed. They're barely seated before Elder leans in, kissing the man gently on the brow. “I'm sorry I've yet to see you today and that it must be under these circumstances again.” Isaiah nods, squirming under the man's attention. His cheeks have taken on a high, rose blush- the room is suddenly far too warm. His fingers go to his collar and he loosens his cravat. It hardly helps. “Please, it's nothing.” He waves Elder's attention away. “Do not concern yourself. I am sure it will pass.” Those last words come out tight and breathy, but he pretends not to notice and works hard on keeping his features placid and still. It is a battle. There is a fluttering, ticklish itch in the inside of his nose which was hardly dulled by his previous fit, and every breath makes it more insistent. He gives his nose a firm, decisive rub with the heel of his hand and tries to ignore the slight squelching sound this makes. It avails him little, however. After a long pause during which he can feel his Lordship's gave boring into him, his body gives up. All in a moment he draws a surprised gasp and a single sneeze escapes him. “hp'tdtssh!” Belatedly, he cups his hand to his nose. “Excuse me.” The sneeze sprays a little, misting Elder's neck, and feels a rush of heat under his own collar. He tugs his own cravat off and reaches over to fully remove Isaiah's, his fingertips brushing the soft skin of the gardener's throat. “Tarry here a while,” he says, stretching back onto the bed. “We can talk nonsense and no one will bother us here. Especially not that foolish Anna.” He feels the pressure of Isaiah's body reclining at his side as he closes his eyes. It is hot in the room, with the temperature outside a sweltering summer heat. The drapes are not fully drawn, and a beam of sun is spread across the bed, striping their bodies with while light and illuminating motes floating lazily in the air. “Did you sleep well last night?” he asks. “I'm sorry I had to go, but running a house is a full time occupation most days.” “I did sleep well, surprisingly.” Isaiah murmurs, lying back beside his Lordship. He does not close his own eyes, preferring to keep them open and use the time to explore Elder's face. The man has surprisingly thick lashes, laid darkly against his cheek, but Isaiah's attention is more drawn by the violet shadows beneath them. “I can see that you did not. Begging your pardon, but you look as though you were up all night. Perhaps you can rest a little now.” “I could not sleep,” Elder says with a sigh, his arm brushing Isaiah's as he stretches. He tucks his forearm through the crook of the man's elbow and lets his fingers explore the skin there where Cartwright's sleeve exposes tan skin. “I think I had too much of you on my mind, if I may speak frankly.” A smile plays on his lips as he admits this. The men lie in silence for a little while, basking in the warmth of the sun. Outside a thrush warbles and the light wind plays in the tops of the trees. The peace is only broken for Isaiah to sniff wetly, once, and then a second time. On the third time he draws his handkerchief from his waistcoat pocket and applies it to his nose in a firm, pinching wipe that leaves his nostrils scarlet. He coughs to clear his ticklish throat and says, wryly, “Well, I can no longer dispute your diagnosis of a rose-cold. I was feeling relatively well until Anna came by with those flowers, and now I am, well-” He sniffles, partially for effect and partially because his nose really is running a surprising amount. “It is very curious. I would not have thought that such a small exposure would have such a great effect...” He shrugs, spreading his hands to indicate that such a thing is beyond him. “I am sorry you have taken ill again, especially if you were feeling better earlier. So little is known about this affliction that it is indeed possible that Anna's bouquet caused your suffering, though I agree, it does seem strange. If it worsens at all, we'll know something else is afoot. There are a few more mentioned remedies in my periodicals that might help. Once this awful heat passes, the symptoms should lessen. I feel we are in the peak of summer and therefore the peak of your troubles with this affliction.” “I may have a very temporary solution,” he says, touching his lips to the gardener's with a gentle kiss. “Oh yes?” Isaiah does not pull away, but murmurs against Elder's lips with something like reverence. His mind is racing. Images of what happened the night before and what might yet happen tumble together, bound by the common thread of the ticklishness in his nose. He sniffs, discreetly, but the itch only intensifies and he curses it's timing. “I- I am afraid I may start sneezing again...” He warns, uncomfortable. “That's why it's temporary,” Elder says, a smile playing across his lips as he presses them to Cartwright's. The man's pillowed lips are slightly dry from the strain of breathing through his mouth so much, but Elder whets them with a flick of his tongue, deepening the kiss. He feels his nose brush against the gardener's and the moist nostrils expand as the slight breeze of a congested inhale rushes across his cheek. Jacob releases the kiss just barely in time to avoid a ticklish sneeze from Isaiah. The sneeze looks to be followed by others, so Elder sits back, retrieving a clean handkerchief and readying it for the afflicted man. “Please don't be embarrassed,” he urges Isaiah, pushing back the man's thick hair and resting a soft hand on his brow. “Here.” He folds the handkerchief over Cartwright's twitching nose to catch the impending sneezes, pinching gently as to not cause any pain to the reddened nostrils. Caught off-guard, there is nothing Isaiah can do but double forwards into it. He might have tried to stifle to sound at least a little, but at that moment finds himself more preoccupied by simply getting the urge to abate. His head bobs against the handkerchief in Elder's hand, his breath warm. “--idtssh!-ittssh!-idtssh!- - -h'idtssh! Idtssh! IdtssSHuh!” The handkerchief lowers and Cartwright looks over it with an expression of relief, though it quickly gives way to one of frustration as his breath mounts again. His voice flickers and rises as he fights for speech- “Ah, I'm nn- I'm- ah- not done- -” The man barely finishes before launching into another fit of three and he grasps Elder's wrist to bring the cloth to his face again. “ 'tddssshuh! 'tdtsssh! iih—hh-- TSSHHuh!” In the aftermath he lies back with a quiet groan, too tired to do anything about the damp state of his nostrils and too miserable to care. He gives a long and thoroughly unmannerly sniffle and turns his head into the pillow before the other man can approach his nose with the handkerchief again. “Dod't, id's too sore.” He complains, almost petulantly. The display is so incredibly powerful and uncontrolled that Elder finds himself hardening at the mere brush of Isaiah's nose through the damp handkerchief. He blushes, ashamed at his body's immoral reaction to the man's suffering. “Love,” he coos, stroking a finger along Isaiah's spine. Cartwright's breath shudders as he takes a slow, congested inhale and Elder feels the spasm of his diaphragm against his fingertips. The poor man shouldn't be having such a violent reaction to a mere bouquet of flowers. Elder suspects that the forgetful maid, Anna, may have opened the windows in Isaiah's room against his instructions when she tidied up this morning. “There is a treatment described in my periodicals which involves wrapping the body in cool towels while the head is wrapped in warm towels and held over a bowl of boiled water so that the steam might be inhaled. There is also an application of paraffin and camphor that can be brushed into the nostrils to ease the swelling of the membranes.” He imagines the beautiful young gardener lying prone, swathed in thin white towels, their bodies close together. For a moment, his breath catches in his throat and he feels his face turning the color of beets. The thoughts are pushed from his head as Isaiah shifts to look at him. The man's eyes are red and swollen, with a thin film of tears coating his delicate lashes. Jacob cannot remember seeing anyone more lovely that his young man. Isaiah scrubs the back of his hand over his irritated eyes. As Elder strokes down his back again he gives a little shiver of pleasure. “Whatever you wish, although I fancy I could live without anything brushed in my -snf- nostrils, if it's all the same to you- I don't think I could stand it. It seems some of these treatments were proposed by someone who has never experienced this condition.” He cups a hand over his nose protectively, with a wry laugh. “It seems to have passed, but I feel a mere touch could set it off again.” With his he rolls onto his side the better to be close to his Lordship. The gardener's hair is tousled, lifted form his face and a few strands cling to his sweaty face, which he swipes off with an irritated gesture. His clothes are also charmingly disheveled and with a look that is thoughtful, almost coy, he sheds his suit jacket and loosens the top button of his shirt to reveal elegant collarbones. The skin here is pale, with a clean line where his tan ceases, indicating that Elder can see an inch of flesh that even the sunlight rarely sees. “If you don't mind.” He murmurs. “It's warm in here. Do you mind if I rest a moment? I don't think I am up to any more of your treatments just yet.” “Of course,” Elder agrees. “I don't want to cause your further discomfort if you feel it will only increase with the treatments. You are right to say that perhaps the men who developed these 'cures' are naïve to the true nature of the condition and the experience of it.” “Rest,” he adds, pushing back the voluminous sheets so that Isaiah can fully stretch out in the bed. The room does border on unbearably stuffy, with the windows and heavy drapes closed in a barrier against the outside irritants. Jacob sheds his own coat, tossing it to a chair opposite the bed, and unknots his cravat. His thick curly hair wilts in the heat; tendrils spilling down over his face. The exposed line of Cartwright's chest is tantalizing and he cannot help but press the tip of his thumb there, shifting the thin cotton further back against the gardener's shoulder, revealing his broad chest and the edge of a nipple. “Arms up,” he commands, his hands slipping to Isaiah's waist. “You'll be more comfortable if you are cooler.” He tugs the shirt loose from the waistband of Cartwright's trousers. The gardener responds without thinking, allowing Jacob to undress him as though he is a child. Well.... from the way the man's hands curve around the shape of his hip-bones, perhaps not exactly like a child. He feels himself hardening as Jacob's gaze rakes over his newly bare chest, taking him in. Isaiah's cheeks flush, suddenly burningly conscious of his body and the other man's eyes on him. After a long moment he reciprocates, though with none of Jacob's boldness. Tentatively, he undoes the top button of Jacob's shirt, and then another, his fingers shaking slightly with nerves and anticipation. Yet he looses his nerve at the third button and pauses, looking up at Jacob questioningly. “My Lord...?” “Jacob,” Elder replies. “Please.” He wants them to be equals here. From the moment they met, he's wished it were so. Cavorting with a hired gardener was slightly more difficult than another Lord who had no expectations on his time. Still, Jacob reminds himself that he is the Lord of this home and may divide Isaiah's time as he sees fit. The idea of that power thrills him a little. His soft hands take Cartwright's and together they guide his shirt off, so both men lie, bare chested, panting a little in the stuffy air. Jacob's body is leaner, softer, and less angled than the other man's. Though Cartwright feels more like a boy when clothed, Jacob looks more the part now. While bits of Isaiah's skin are darkened by sun, Elder is all pale, punctuated only by a few patches where a whisper of freckles dapple the ivory skin. Their skin touches as Jacob presses forward for a kiss. Cartwright is sweaty and warm with exertion from the strain his ailment. Elder tastes salt as he nips at the man's neck, kissing his way upwards to Isaiah's full lips. Isaiah turns his head to greet him and their lips meet in a long, lingering kiss. Something about the clean, faintly masculine scent of him draws Isaiah closer, and he closes his eyes, trusting. The taught muscles of his stomach kick as his breath comes quickly. At first Jacob's kiss renders Isaiah sweetly passive but as long minutes pass his confidence grows and his hands move from his side to explore the other man's bare skin. He traces a thumb along his collarbone with one hand whilst the other grips Jacob's forearm tightly, as though seeking an anchor. Then he stiffens. Before he has a chance to think, the itchiness in his nose flares up again and sets him gasping in preparation for another fit of sneezing. He pulls from the kiss at the last moment and barely manages a gulp of air before he averts his head to avoid the other man's face. He expects Jacob to pull away, but when he does not Isaiah finds himself smothering the outburst into the man's shoulder. “'Idtssh!-Idtssh!-Ittsschuh!” His nose bumps damply against Elder's skin, leaving a little trail of dampness. He turns a guilty expression up at Lord Elder, one hand rubbing at his eye. “I thought I'd finished with that, but ah- hh” His voice wavers irresistibly but he draws a deep breath to steady himself and pinches firmly at the bridge of his nose, quelling the urge enough to finish. “Apparently -ah- not...” Despite himself he ends on a questioning note, unsure how long he can restrain himself. His is eager to get back to kissing, but his nose has other ideas. As he holds Elder's gaze his nostrils flicker and his brows are arched upwards in an expression of hovering dread. Elder smiles, enamored. “Bless you,” he says nonchalantly, unbothered by Isaiah's damp nose against his shoulder. “It's okay; I've told you. If you need to sneeze, sneeze.” He is utterly charmed by the allergic man and his embarrassed expression. A soft fingertip strokes Cartwright's cheek, dangerously close to his sensitive nose.

“Poor love,” he coos, tracing the light stubble of Isaiah's chin. “It's so hot; I wonder if the servants accidentally opened your windows while they tended to your room this morning. The rest of the bedrooms were left open to the air. Perhaps I've failed in protecting that sensitive nose of yours. I'd say we could retire to my chamber, but they did the same in there.” He shifts slightly, his hips straining towards Cartwright as his arousal continues to grow at the sight of the young gardener. The tone of Elder's voice is so gentle, so heated that it sends a shudder of warmth into Isaiah's stomach. He is caught between feeling lusted after and deeply, deeply cared for, and the weight of Elder's concern sparks a depth of feeling in him which he can scarcely understand. It doesn't help that the man's questing fingertips create a gentle friction is his skin, heightening rather than soothing the irritation deep in his nose. “You worry too much... I'm fine h-here-” Cartwright only manages a second of calm before his breath scissors again. The itching grows to an unbearable pitch forcing his head down in another fit of shuddering sneezes which catch in his throat with a fierce, percussive force. “gtsh!-'gttsh!- hh-- iih- 'gtTSshuh!!�� He looks up from his steepled hands, sniffling, to see Elder watching over him, feels the man's hand resting lightly on the small of his back. More than this, he senses Elder's eyes on him with a peculiar intensity. “It really doesn't bother you, does it?” He says, voice low with curiosity. “On the contrary,” Elder finds himself saying. “I think it's very charming. The way the body loses control; it's a rather primal reaction, to sneeze.” His erection is pressing against his trousers, burning urgently as he gazes at Isaiah's swollen, dripping nose. He allows it to brush briefly against the other man through the sheets, grunting as a tremor of excitement rushes up his limbs. “It's funny, how our bodies betray us,” he adds, blushing. “We can't help sneeze when we must sneeze, and we can't help feel what...well, what we feel.” His lips meet Isaiah's throat, kissing the delicate, warm flesh. “You're lovely,” he murmurs, his hips pressing unabashedly towards the man. “Even like this?” Isaiah has followed Elder's monologue with a creeping smile, and his tone is more teasing than incredulous, even as he dabs self-consciously at his nose with the handkerchief. "Even like this," Elder affirms. The nudge of Elder's hips against him has not escaped him, and nor has the fact that it corresponds with the bursts of sneezing. Comprehension blooms in him like one of his hot-house orchids, and he smiles, shyly. This encounter is not like any he has experienced before, but so much the better for that. Emboldened by the praise he moves his face down to Elder's collarbone and presses small nuzzling kisses against the smooth skin. Moving downwards, he takes the opportunity to rub his itchy nose against the firm flesh of Jacob's stomach, which does nothing at all to quell the fluttering, teasing ticklishness buried deep inside it, for all that it makes the other man squirm. “Hm, I wish I could tell what you smell like.” Isaiah murmurs, sniffing thickly. “As it is, I've no ide-ah-” His breath catches in a low, shivering inhale. “I think you're right. There must be something in the air in here. I can feel it right here-” One of Isaiah's fingertips pinpoints a spot high in his nose, to the left, as though he could scratch it through his skin. "I smell like aftershave, I imagine," Elder says softly. "And you smell like earth and soap and-" The words trail off as he feels the intake of Isaiah's breath rush across his skin like a warm summer breeze. This touch is his undoing, sparking his breath to a soft, chaotic “hih- ih-” of need. He has no time to even attempt to cover with his hands. Instead as Elder watches, the tawny head bucks down, smothering a wrenching sneeze just above his hip bone in an explosion of heat, dampness and contained force. “ii-GTSshhuh-uh!!” “Ugh, excuse me.” Isaiah murmurs, his voice thick but not at all sorry. He looks up at Elder, his face a clear question. As the sneeze explodes across his body, Elder shivers and very nearly moans aloud. His trousers feel uncomfortably tight and he fears another sneeze from the young man might shatter his control entirely. "Bless you," he manages to say, his voice low and husky. Reaching down, he thumbs the edge of the gardener's nose with a bit of the sheets as their eyes meet. Elder blushes scarlet, feeling the color spread even to his ears. He shifts downward so their faces are closer together and he lightly touches the waistband of Cartwright's trousers, tucking a thumb in against the man's hip. "May I?" he asks. “Please.” Isaiah breathes. Then he allows Elder to take him. At first he merely watches, passive, as Elder undresses him. All he can see is his own reflection in Elder's pupils as he is stripped naked, his own eagerness and vulnerability staring back at him though his body is stronger and more bulky than Elder's own. The scholar's hands induce a kind of trance in him, their interest at once passionate and curiously academic as they map his torso and then move lower, to where he is aching to be touched. Elder is clearly experienced, more experienced than Isaiah himself who only knows enough to know what he likes. He likes this. It is stiflingly warm and Elder's every touch sends a further rush of heat over him. A slight sweat springs over the plane of his back. The golden, sun-bleached hairs on his limbs rise. He averts his gaze for a moment, not wanting to Elder to notice that he is trembling like a taught wire with excitement and nerves. Isaiah would be utterly lost in the moment if it wasn't for the continued irritation in his nose. He can almost see the motes of pollen drifting on the heavy sunlit air, and it drives him mad. His breath comes in tight little snuffles, unsure whether he is trying to stave off the need or bring it on. He gives his partner an apologetic glance. His eyes are reddened, his voice liquid, scratchy and a tone lower than usual, though whether from lust or discomfort it is not clear. “Give me a moment, Jacob. I-” He pinches firmly at the tip of his nose. His nostrils flicker wildly against his fingers for a moment and his eyebrows arch, his lips hovering slightly open. Then he shakes his head. “It's gone.” He makes to continue, but something in Jacob's face stops him. He gives a puzzled smile. “If it didn't sound completely absurd-” He begins, breath catching in another shivering inhale he has to fight to contain. “I -ihh- -snf- I would say that this -hh- pleases you...” Elders hands are cupped around the top of Cartwright's angular hips, thumbs hooked over the waistband of his trousers as he slides the cloth down. His fingers brush the coarse hair at the bottom of Isaiah's belly and curve lower, along the trace of where his hipbone swells under muscle and skin. One hand moves to his own trousers, feeling dangerously close to the edge of losing all his control. When Isaiah sniffles and starts to breathe erratically, Elder goes still, body trembling in response. He blushes at the gardener's observation and leans forward, a finger stroking Cartwright's cock briefly. "It does," he says, his face going red. "I think you're magnificent and there's something very intoxicating about that poor nose of yours." The gardener bites his lower lip. Between Elder's teasing touch and his pollen-stricken nose he manages only a brief, incoherent murmur before his head shudders down in a fit of sneezes. “ii- GTSshhuh!-TSsch!-TSCsch!- ah.” In the frantic pause before the next set he gives Elder a shy smile through parted, panting lips and reaches for his hand, pressing it clumsily to his own face as he is overtaken again.“TSCh-TSch-Tdssch!” The force of them is hot and wet against Elder's finger, and he can feel the soft cartilage of the gardeners nose nuzzled hard against his fingers. It is the perfect counterpoint to the firm, deft motion of Cartwright's other hand as it finds Elder's erection in a deft, steady motion which becomes chaotic as his breath hitches again, distracting him. His voice is shivery and desperate as he leans into Elder's touch, desperately holding back another fit as he coaxes Elder towards his cock. “Please-” He murmurs. “If you're waiting for me to stop sneezing, I- hh- h'idtssh!- don't think I- -hh- can.” The mere brush of Cartwright's fingers coupled with his hitching breath and stammering speech nearly sends Elder over the edge immediately. He managed an incoherent groan as his own hand trails along Isaiah's face, pressing the wet, irritated nose upwards to help the gardener breathe more easily. "Poor...thing," he pants, his head resting against Cartwright's collarbone where he kisses and nibbles at the tanned skin. His free hand strokes Cartwright in the same rhythm his other massages the man's nose. Fireworks are blossoming in his eyes, his brain a jumble of exhilarated ecstasy and amazement that this is happening. His hips pump into Cartwright's willing hand, straining for more. Still, he's polite and murmurs "You can rest if you need to. Tell me what you need." “You.” Cartwright murmurs. “I need you.” He allows himself to crumple under their combined weight, falling backwards onto the bed so that Elder lays atop him. The man is slight but his pressure on the gardener's chest is smothering and burning hot. Isaiah's hips are nudging up at him of their own accord. He's making the same dry, shallow gasps he's been making all day as the rose-cold drove him to distraction, but throatier and more desperate. His lips are getting as red and chapped as his nose, rubbed raw from Elder's kisses, but he doesn't seem to mind. A rush of heat floods Elder's face as he presses another kiss to Cartwright's mouth, their noses edged side to side. Isaiah's is wet and warm against Elder's, with a thin stream of humid breath wheezing outward along Elder's cheek. He turns his face, allowing Isaiah to breathe through his mouth again, both men gasping and groaning softly. His hands slip under Cartwright's muscled back, down to the curve of his bottom, tugging their hips impossibly close together as he rocks forward against the man, his erection sliding against the Cartwright's. "I need you too," he says, leaning forward with an eager thrust. Isaiah's face is contorted in a strange expression that Elder cannot decipher as an impending sneeze or an impending climax, though Cartwright's nose is looking incredibly raw and swollen now. His toes curl at the thought of either reaction. Isaiah isn't sure himself. He rubs his nose frustratedly against Elder's shoulder, desperate for some relief from the distracting itch. Wet lips nuzzle deeper into the man's neck, reveling in the feel of skin and taut muscle as their bodies thrust together. Truth be told, he can hardly bear more of either sensation. His lordship has a knack for finding the most sensitive spots, the perfect grip so like and unlike his own, and he is perilously close to coming. Still, it is the irritation of lingering pollen in the back of his nose which conspires to set him gasping again. His voice is a husky whisper, interspersed with light, delicate kisses to the corner's of Elder's mouth. “My l-Lord, I-” “I think I'm going to st- to sn-sneeze again- I can try to stop but I- hh- sorry-” His hazel eyes widen with his unspoken concerns; firstly that if he begins sneezing he may loose all control and come before he's fully enjoyed the encounter, and second that despite Elder's attention his nose is running freely down his upper lip. Sniffling is only doing so much and the resulting sneezes are bound to be wet. Elder's reply is ragged, muddled by the rush of electric jolts coursing in his body, jumbling everything. He tugs Isaiah, stroking and stroking, his own erection now pumping alongside his hands as he thrusts against Cartwright. "It's okay," he gasps. "Please...please..."

He is so incredibly close that he knows a single sneeze from his beloved gardener will put him over the edge. He works his hands the best he can to bring the other man equally close and he can tell he's done a good job. For a moment, both of their bodies tense, muscle against muscle, breath pouring raggedly from their lips as their cheeks press side by side. Elder bends his neck to tuck Isaiah's poor nose against the soft bend of his jawline, feeling the damp trail of irritation flooding from the man's upper lip. The day's stubble on his chin delicately brushes the tip of the gardener's nose and he feels a rapid intake of breath.

He closes his eyes, his whole body ready to explode.

"It's okay," he repeats, giving Isaiah a firm stroke and thrusting himself along the other man's shaft. "Please."

For a fraction of a second, Isiah looks up at him. Their eyes meet, pale green bloodshot ones to chestnut brown, and as Isaiah's head bobs down into Jacob's neck with the first buildup of a sneeze, and from Jacob's throat emits a low, urgent moan. Cartwright's nostrils are wet and scrubbed scarlet, flaring wide as he draws an anticipatory breath. In that moment his gaze is intense, understanding, and with a tiny nod of assent his eyes flutter shut, breath heaving-

“hhhh- tdssch! Tdsshuh!-TDSSCHuh! hg-” he wavers, chest heaving, expression caught between desire and panic. “TSCH!-TSCH!!--h'TSCHiuuh!”

They could not be further from the tight, polite little sneezes of earlier in the day. His body bucks against Elder, the force of the reaction tightening muscles he didn't know he had. His breath shudders and he makes a desperate, aching little sound as he breathes deeply, coaxing the sneezes out. His face presses unrestrainedly against Elder's neck, simply desperate for the relief it gives him and the minute touch of stubble seems to spark something deep in his sinuses and tips him over the edge again. Jacob's hips work faster as he comes, his whole torso shivering as he gasps, grunting and growling as Isaiah continues to sneeze. Every single piece of his body is burning red-hot like glowing coals.

“ighhSCh! hh- h- GTSH! Ig'GXTSH-u! – ih... ah...hh- hh'GTSHuuh!”

Isaiah can barely get a breath before he comes hard with an exhausted whimper. Beside him, Jacob cries out and collapses backwards, shaking with a few brief aftershocks as the handsome gardener wilts alongside, both of them utterly spent.

The ragged breathing against his neck turns his attention away from the sleepy wave of bliss washing over Jacob's body and instead he rolls over to assess his darling gardener.

The poor man's face is streaked with congestion and sweat. With delicate fingers, Jacob picks the corner of the sheet up and carefully wipes Isaiah's nose, careful not to be too rough. Then, he presses his lips to Cartwright's brow and tucks his head down afterward so their foreheads meet.

"Love," he mutters, a hand raking through Cartwright's hair. "Tell me what you need. You've given me everything tonight. How can I make you feel better? How about a bath? Or do you want to try to sleep?"

His gardener curls in close, bending his head under the caress and smiling. He patiently allows Elder to wipe his nose and then takes over himself with the handkerchief, finally able to give a really good blow. Then he reaches up and lays a broad, sinewy hand over Elder's own. He laces their fingers together, stilling them.

"Thank you. You worry too much, Jacob." He whispers. His voice is hoarse and almost gone but he still manages to sound content. "I feel wonderful... I mean, I can barely breathe but I feel... better. Though maybe a bath, if it wouldn't be too much trouble."

"It's no trouble at all," Elder says, rising from the bed, his lean body silhouetted in the dim room. He strides over to the wardrobe to retrieve his silk dressing gown but then realizes they are not in his room at all and laughs.

"I was going to ring for Bishop but I don't believe he'll survive answering a call from me like this!"

He picks up the quilt from the bed and wraps it around his shoulders. Leaning forward, he plants a kiss on Cartwright's brow.

"I'll be right back."

With a careful peek out into the hallway before he goes, he rushes off towards his own room and returns a moment later in his robe, another draped over his arm.

"I've rung for a bath to be drawn in my private washroom. It should be ready in a few minutes. Until then, this is for you. Something a bit more comfortable, I think."

He sets the silk robe down next to Cartwright and sides up into the bed on the opposite side of the man, curling his arms around the gardener's broad chest. The sleepy glow from their heated encounter has taken hold of Elder and he nuzzles into Isaiah's neck.

"I may just have to join you," he teases. "It's a rather massive washtub and I think a bit of warm water will send me right off."

“Please do.”

Isaiah luxuriates in the embrace for a while, drawing Elder into him with a gentle arm. One hand traces idle circles over the plane of the scholar's back, admiring the pale skin and the tracery of visible muscle now at rest. He would be perfectly contented, if it was not for his eyes, which even now he can feel swelling closed. Between his puffy lids and the dark circles underneath he has the look of a man who has cried himself to sleep, at odds with the smile on his lips. He scratches tentatively underneath them, swiping away moisture.

“Bishop will think you have driven me to tears. Still, my nose is better, I think.”

At length he rises, draws the robe around himself and allows Elder to guide him to the bathroom. Isaiah feels very exposed walking almost naked through the oak-paneled corridors, past venerable furniture under the watchful eyes of portraits, and is grateful to close the door behind them. The tub is waiting, brimful of steaming water. He is suddenly, painfully aware of how grimy he is with body fluids of various kinds and it doesn't take much coaxing from Elder to have him strip off and slide himself unto the bath.

Pinching his nose, he ducks his head under the water to submerge himself completely, hoping to wash the last of the pollen away. The water stings his eyes for a moment, but the sensation subsides quickly when he surfaces. His dripping hair is plastered to his head but he shakes it from his eyes with a shower of droplets that catch the light of the late afternoon sun.

“You could join me,” he says coyly, “if you wanted to.”

Elder sits on the edge of the tub and reaches down to get a cupped handful of water, letting it run down Isaiah's broad chest. He rubs the gardener's shoulders for a moment before agreeing that he does want to join in. Shifting Cartwright forward, he lets his robe slide off onto the tiled floor and climbs into the tub behind the other man so that Cartwright can recline against him. Elder's long legs wrap around the side of Cartwright's, their feet both pressed to the end of the tub. He leans back against the edge of the cast iron rim and allows Isaiah's head to fall against his shoulder, where it rests heavily.

He kisses the top of Isaiah's head and pours more handfuls of water over his thick hair, massaging the man's scalp with slow, luxurious circles. There's a square of flannel on the edge of the tub and Elder wets and wrings it out, using it to wash off Isaiah's chest and arms. Then, he tilts the gardener's head back and very carefully tends to his swollen face.

He submits to Elder's attentions without a whimper, though something about the friction prompts him to give just one swift, ticklish sneeze “-idtsshuh!”- directly into the cloth, his head bobbing fractionally under Elder's hand. He draws a breath and mentally prepares himself for another fit but it doesn't come and he laughs, relieved.

“I'm worlds better. You seem to have found one cure at least.”

With this he relaxes back into Jacob's arms. Their bodies conform perfectly to each other and he is cradled, floating slightly in the cool water. His head settles into Jacob's shoulder once more, finding a perfect haven in the space between the man's shoulder and neck. The slight steam in the bathroom has relieved the ache in his sinuses to only a dull, snuffly tightness and the itchiness in his nose is gone at least for now.

One hand strokes up and down Elder's thigh, relishing the silken feel of it under the water, then it stills as his fingers fall slack. He is nearly falling asleep.

With a slight smile, Elder twines his fingers with Isaiah's and rests his cheek on the top of the man's thick hair.

"I'm very glad, love," he says. He's relieved to see the gardener at last able to have some peace.

After a few moments, Cartwright in limp in Jacob's arms, snoring very quietly. Not wishing to disturb the man's precious sleep, Elder remains still until the water grows too chilly and his legs start to go numb.

"Isaiah," he says gently, stroking the man's arm. "You should get out before you catch a chill."

Several fluffy towels wait on a stool nearby along with their dressing gowns.

“What, in case I start sneezing? Imagine that.” Isaiah teases.

Still, a superficial shiver makes the small hairs on his limbs stand up and he is glad to haul himself out of the water.

He helps Elder to rise and soon the pair are dried off, wrapped in their gowns and set out to dry in two chairs looking out of the window over the grounds. The setting sun catches the top of Elder's oak trees and turns the lawns gold for just a moment.

At length, Isaiah turns to his host.

“You know, when you explained that it was something in your grounds afflicting me, I thought that I couldn't possibly stay and work here. But somehow...” He gives Elder a shy smile. “If you'll have me, I am beginning to think it would be worth my while to stay.”

"I will have you stay, work or no work," Elder says. "And you can still plan the gardens from the safety of the house, I think. Either way, I'd be beyond happy to keep you here. You've brought me much joy, Mr. Cartwright."

54 notes · View notes

mlpdestinyverse · 6 years ago

Photo

“Gallery of Infamy”

While figuring out a way to mend their relationship with their mother Rainbow Dash, the mare gives Monochrome a surprise visit that leads them through memory lane.

Feat: Monochrome

Story and Description Under The Cut

Tick...tick… The sound of a ticking wall clock was the only thing that bounced off the cloud-walls of Monochrome’s room. There they sat at their wooden desk in one corner, pencil in wing...staring. They blankly stared at the crisp sheet of paper laid out before them, with a measly two sentences written at the top. But no matter how long they sat there thinking, sifting through their brain for the right coherent thoughts and feelings, the words they sought out just refused to form. Soon enough the pegasus was shoving the paper away from them, towards a messy pile of other discarded attempts. Firmly placing their pencil down, Monochrome sat back in their chair with a light creak and closed their eyes. A frustrated sigh escaped their muzzle. “This isn’t working…” they mumbled to themself, opening their green eyes half way to tiredly stare at the white ceiling. Monochrome knew themself. They knew they were horrendously incapable of putting their feelings into words. And now, they were learning that it wasn’t just the spoken word that they struggled with. So much for having a famous writer for a mom. ‘How am I going to do this…?’ Mo’s eyes opened fully when they felt something cold, smooth, and familiar nudge at their leg. Looking down, they were greeted by curious beady eyes and a lovable wrinkly green face. Tank slow-blinked at Monochrome and a crease in his forehead gave away his confusion and worry. As he tilted his head to express his question, a soft and adorable turtle-grunt left his throat. Monochrome’s stresses began to seep away at the sight. With a gentle smile, Mo shook their head. “I’m fine, Tank. I’m just trying to figure out how to...talk to mom. Rainbow Dash, I mean.” The turtle’s eyes widened in recognition, and ever so slowly a wide, delighted smile began to pull at his mouth. Very slowly. Yet Monochrome loved watching it nonetheless. “I know...a long time coming, I guess. “ Reaching out, Monochrome sifted their failed letter attempts into a pile, making a mental note to take them to a recycler later. “I need to...sort things out. And take that actual first step in moving past my problems with her. But I don’t know what I’m doing…” Monochrome frowned down at the pile, taking in the various erase marks and struck-out words. It really was so much easier, avoiding these feelings altogether and the ones who fueled them. The insecurity. The bitterness. Monochrome guarded themself from these feelings with indifference and detachment. That’s who they’d become. They knew it all too well. If only they knew how to convey that. They needed to let her know, right? That out of everyone in their life - between the harsh peers and long lost friends - she was the one who had contributed to their...problems the most. 'She certainly didn't help my case...' Before Monochrome could let themself indulge in these thoughts they had been so keen on burying, the sound of their doorbell reached their ears. The pegasus raised an eyebrow before pushing their chair out and climbing off. “I’ll be back, Tank.” After an affectionate pat on the turtle’s head, Monochrome set off for the front door. As they moved down their hallway to the foyer, they searched their brain for any ideas on who could be at their door. The mail had already been delivered earlier in the day. And they didn’t have to recheck deadlines to know that none of their commissions were due." ‘Skychaser’s been busy. Ven, maybe? I know he and mom came back last week-’ So as Monochrome opened their door, one could imagine their tension, and confusion, over seeing a surprised Rainbow Dash at their doorstep. “Chromey~!” Their mother exclaimed, a grin stretching across her face. “EYYY you’re actually home for once! Venny can never seem to find you here, you know?” “Hello….” Monochrome greeted slowly, still processing the mare’s presence. With a soft “oooh!” at seeing the foyer behind them, Rainbow Dash invited herself in and flew past their kid. Even as they closed their door, Monochrome eyed their mother, perplexed. Wary, even. ‘She always sends Ven to get me...since when did she visit me personally?’ “Did you need something…?” They asked hesitantly, interrupting their mother as she admired the room. The question caught her attention and she playfully rolled her eyes, drifting down to land on the floor and wave a hoof dismissively at them. “PSSSH, whaaaat?! I can’t visit my own kiddo from time to time?” Something about the slightly higher pitch to her voice gave the pegasus the impression that she was hiding something. But Monochrome didn’t have much time to voice any other questions as their mother gave the room another glance around. “Geez, this place is looking AWESOME, Chromey! haven’t been in here since you moved in last year!” She sighed wistfully. “Takes me back to when I had my own cloudominium...good times! How are you liking it here? I’m sure having your own place is pretty cool, huh~?” “It is,” Monochrome agreed, their gaze flicking off to one side. They shifted in discomfort, feeling oddly vulnerable. “It’s been nice.” This was weird...right? Their mother visiting was already throwing them off. But really, a random opportunity to ‘make up’ with her had literally just waltzed in unannounced. Yet something this unplanned was not making the idea of it any easier. ‘I’m not ready for this...am I supposed to spend time with her? I don't even know what to talk about.’ It was then that Rainbow’s eyes caught sight of a certain wall in their hallway, and her magenta eyes lit up. “Now wait a damn second, you sneaky little- are those ribbons?!” She briskly trotted over and Monochrome followed close behind. The hallway wall presented an assortment of Monochrome’s art pieces, all lined up neatly in black picture frames. Some pieces were simply projects Monochrome had wanted on display, while others had ribbons of different shapes and sizes pinned at the corners. Rainbow Dash let out a long whistle at the sight. “Like mother like kiddo, if you ask me!” “Sure...” Monochrome took in her face, how her eyes gleamed with some form of excitement at the sight before her. No surprise, though. She used to collect ribbons and trophies herself. Their ribbons, regardless of how they won them, just showed her that her kid had managed to follow her hoofsteps in some way. The artwork that won them in the first place probably didn’t matter much to her. That’s what their mind reasoned, at least. “Pft, of course Tank is the very first picture here! You always did like drawing the little guy~” Rainbow snickered, taking in a faded sketch of the turtle. That was true. But Monochrome was familiar with this piece in particular. It was done in their last year of elementary, when they were ten years old and their art skills were still in their earlier stages. With their current experience, Monochrome could now see that the shading values in the sketch weren’t very prominent and some lines were messy. But the effort was clear. They had been given an opportunity to choose an animal to draw for an art project, and they had jumped on the chance to draw their best friend. Though they also remembered how their younger self had left out Tanks limbs, just so he’d be easier to draw (though what beginner artist hadn’t done something similar at least once?) This was probably the oldest one they had chosen to frame up, and Monochrome felt no shame looking at such old art. Catching flaws they hadn't noticed when they first had drawn the piece only proved how much they had grown as an artist since then. But as they stared at the sketch, aware of their mother’s presence beside them, they were reminded of the second half of the memory tied to it. Their teacher had thought that it’d be fun to hold a mini contest - to let the class vote on their favorite drawing on presentation day and even invite parents to attend the class for the viewing. Their mother Daring had caught a bad cold and couldn’t attend at the time, so naturally, Rainbow Dash had been the only one left. Despite having just returned from one of her missions, Rainbow had promised to go. Monochrome had looked forward to showing off a special drawing of their mother’s pet, not only to the class, but to her as well. ...though when she didn’t show, Monochrome only found out upon returning home that their mother - while she was out that morning - had gotten caught up in a run-in with the Wonderbolt’s captain, Spitfire. Whatever the two had managed to catch up on that day, Rainbow had...lost track of time. ‘She was never good at handling distractions…especially when tired. Guess that’s where Ven gets his clumsiness from.’ The thought was meant to be half-hearted. A distraction. It had been years since that time. And yet, remembering it now was making them even more aware of her presence, and the feelings she brought. ‘Well this isn’t helping.’ “WHOA-HOA, what’s this?” Rainbow Dash was now focused on the next framed image, one Monochrome knew they had done with graphite pencils, if the crisper shading and details didn’t give it away. Monochrome had been fourteen, and they remembered their early high school art project theme; heroes. There in the image, Daring Do stood alone at the top of a cliff, her dark hair billowing while she outstretched her wings. An image of strength, and one they were personally fond of for obvious reasons. Looking at the image again, Monochrome wouldn’t have minded having ‘Valor Wind’ standing alongside Equestria’s most underappreciated hero. But at the time, Venture Gale hadn’t even joined Rainbow Dash on her missions yet; not until two years later, in fact. “How come I’ve never seen this one before?” Rainbow Dash crossed her arms, jokingly shooting Monochrome a judging look despite the smirk on her muzzle. “Oh I see how it is! You know, if you wanted Spectrum Storm to pose for a drawing, all you had to do was ask!” “...I did.” Rainbow’s grin fell immediately, a look of surprise and puzzlement replacing it. Monochrome winced. They hadn’t meant for that to come out as harsh as it did. “Huh? Wait, when?” Monochrome paused, letting themself actually choose their words for once. Yet another memory association uncovered; how the Heroes Project was originally going to be a surprise tribute for both mothers’ adventure identities. “When I was planning this piece. You just...had trouble focusing.” Monochrome quietly thought back on their mother’s inability to simply stand still. Which, as annoying as it was, was understandable in hindsight. Not everyone could stand or pose for a set period of time. But it was Rainbow’s attitude at the time that they remembered; the way she whined about wanting Daring to take her place, and the moment Venture Gale came home with a new game, Rainbow had perked back up from her hunched over state. 'Inconspicuously' moving towards the door, she had reminded Monochrome that Daring would be a "waaaay" better suited model than her. Afterwards she rushed out of the room without even waiting for an answer. After that, they just couldn’t get the right look or feeling down for “Spectrum”, and in the end Monochrome had given up and had chosen to stick with a Daring Do tribute. Frustration and that newfound blooming seed of jealousy probably didn’t help with the change of heart. Recreations with Venture just always seemed to be more fun for her. Her preference. “Oh…” Rainbow became quiet, looking down and rubbing her foreleg. Not knowing what else to say, Monochrome chose to leave Rainbow in her awkward silence. They focused instead on their artwork, hoping they could maybe find something different to talk or at least think about. Taking in this piece, Monochrome was reminded of how they really did used to enjoy reading their mother Daring’s work. From her Daring Do series to her Spectrum Storm sequel, the books had always been full of empowerment and adventure with a captivating writing style Monochrome could always recognize. But ever since “Valor Wind” made his debut, and Mo’s not-so-pleasant feelings arose...well, the last three books their mother had published - first prints she had joyfully gifted to them - were still sitting on their shelf, untouched. Monochrome couldn’t bring themself to, and it wasn’t even out of spite at this point. They genuinely had made various efforts to read the volumes, for the sake of supporting their mother’s hobby, but...doing so stirred up those unpleasant emotions, feeding a fire that only pushed them deeper into their own pool of insecurities and bitterness. And it frustrated them - it really did - that these things had to make them feel this way. This was their mother’s passionate work about their own family. Yet for the sake of their own emotional and mental wellbeing - even if it meant being out of the loop when it came to their brother's experiences out there- Monochrome had no choice but to lie about keeping up with Daring’s work. They avoided retellings of the adventures altogether. Now the pegasus could barely look at the covers of their mother's unread books without feeling a knot of guilt. ‘Alright, this was a bad idea. I get it. Everything has a negative connection to her, apparently.’ Monochrome searched their brain, ready to change the subject or at least find something else for their mother to focus on. Just as they were opening their mouth, they noticed Rainbow’s eyebrows shoot up, something further into the hall gaining her full attention. “Wait isn’t that…?” She trotted over a few frames down to a different art piece. Monochrome couldn't help but silently follow, curious. They never imagined their mother recognizing any of these pieces, with how much she had missed over the years. So after tracing the mare’s gaze to the exact image that was captivating her, Monochrome came to an abrupt halt at the sight. ‘Oh.’ It was a striking piece, if they could say so themself. Their first attempt at mixed media. Using charcoal and chalk pastels, their twelve-year-old self had deviated from drawing from life and drew from their imagination instead. So staring back at the two of them was a Timberwolf, posed elegantly with dark, strong tones to highlight its ferocity. But unlike a normal Timberwolf, it was spring-inspired. The beast’s branches was adorned with various glowing flowers, giving it a hauntingly beautiful look. Monochrome remembered how excited they were of the concept, pouring their heart into the piece a little each day. At the time, it had been one of their best and proudest works. And it still was. The blue ribbon hanging from the pictures corner said enough. And yet, right now, remembering that day brought back a hollow feeling in their chest. For once, Rainbow Dash wasn’t grinning, or speaking with unbridled confidence. As she spoke, her voice was strangely soft and pensive. “I remember this one...middle school, right? This was the drawing you entered into your first art show. When you gained your cutie mark.” Rainbow became quiet again, staring at the artwork. It would take a moment longer before she would turn to Monochrome, a regretful look on her face. “I...wish I could’ve been there, kiddo. Really. What I would’ve given to see you earn your mark that day.” Monochrome averted their gaze, an ache they had worked years to will away beginning to rise back from the depths Things had taken an abrupt, dangerous turn in Southern Equestria. And the morning of the show, Rainbow had received the news. “You were busy.” Monochrome murmured. They tried, and failed, to think of more to say. What else was there to say? Even if they had their doubts on just how much their mother Daring exaggerated in her books, they were aware of their mothers’ serious line of work. That’s why they had looked up to their parents, especially Rainbow Dash, in the first place. Maybe back then it was harder to grasp, but as an adult, they had an understanding. But that hadn’t prevented the damage. For the longest time, Monochrome had thought it was feeling forgotten that had damaged them and their relationship with their mother. But as they stood there, they realized it wasn’t just that. It was feeling forgettable. It was being in the background, where none of the things they enjoyed seemed to matter. It was feeling like a fleeting experience, easy to replace with something more interesting than they were; an adventurous life. Ponies who were far more similar to her. And even if it wasn't entirely their mother's fault that they had this complex - growing up a quiet, introverted child had made socialization harder after all - she had without a doubt contributed greatly to it. Art had always been a part of them. It wasn’t just a fun hobby turned into a job. It was also self-expression, used to convey the things that they was passionate about and the things that were important to them. So if there was no one to receive and respond with equal fervor, if the one pony they wanted to convey these things to felt disinterested and absent - then...what kind of existence was that, keeping these things to themself? ‘A lonely one.’ Sure, Rainbow made short-lived attempts at asking about their work and would give her compliments. But after everything, how was Monochrome supposed to believe she had any ounce of genuine interest in what they loved? In them. Words bubbled up to Monochrome’s mouth before they could even stop them. “I always wanted to share this part of my life with you.” The words came out soft. And no matter how much they felt like more had to be said, they just couldn’t find the words. Unable to meet Rainbow’s gaze, Monochrome kept their eyes locked on their art. They could feel her eyes on them, and soon, Monochrome regretted even speaking. Then they felt something softly brush over their back, followed by the warmth of a body pressing into them. It tore Mo’s attention away, and there, they took in the sight of their mother, staring guiltily at them. “I really missed a lot, huh...I’m really sorry kiddo” She sighed, withdrawing her wing. “I know you’re a workaholic like me, and you love your alone time. I always try to give you your space and stuff, but...it’s been forever since we’ve actually done anything together. We barely get to see each other anymore.” A red hue came over Rainbow’s face, and she ducked her head while rubbing her neck. “Look, I’m not any good with words-” ‘... so that’s where I get it from-’ “-but I just hope we can...hang more? Like, maybe you can drop by more! When you can? I know Ven’s been missing you too.” “Is...that why you came by today?” Rainbow blinked. “Huh?” Monochrome shifted in place. “You said earlier that you just wanted to visit, but...you’re kind of a bad liar, mom. No offense.” “Oh.” Rainbow nervously laughed, awkwardly rubbing her hooves together. “Aaactually, um...your mom kind of told me that you and Skychaser aren’t a thing anymore. So I wanted to check up on you? You know, without making it weird! But I was hoping I could convince you to join us when you’re not working. Cause I mean...it could help. Maybe?” It was surprising, to say the least. Rainbow was very obviously embarrassed talking about any of this. Monochrome had never seen their mom this awkward before. But there was some sort of opening here. Monochrome just had to find it. “I’m fine. My friendship with Sky is going to be okay.” A pause. “...I’ll be busy for at least another week or two. I’m a little behind. But...if you guys are still around after I catch up on my commissions, I’ll see if I can come over.” Rainbow Dash perked up, a glimmer of hope in her eyes. With a joyous laugh she zoomed up into the air, doing an aerial spin. “WHOO! Sounds awesome to me!” Still loud as ever....but Monochrome was willing to start adapting. Their ear then twitched, catching a faint sound behind them. Something like slow scratching. The pegasus knew who they’d see before they even turned around. Rainbow, too, seemed to notice the extra presence and gasped dramatically. “TANK!!” At the sight of his old caretaker, Monochrome watched as Tank’s mouth widened into a radiant gummy grin, his eyes practically shining with glee. The very sight struck Mo, knowing just how much Tank loved their mom. Both Rainbow and Monochrome simultaneously moved to meet the slow turtle. While Monochrome picked Tank up and cradled him, Rainbow lowered her hooves back down to the floor. “It’s so great to see you, buddy!” the mare exclaimed, trotting closer to him. Tank was already stretching his neck forward in Monochrome’s arms, opening his mouth to let out a cheerful little turtle-grunt in return. With a grin as wide as her little friend’s, Rainbow lowered her head and met Tank’s snout with her own in an affectionate nose boop. It was one of many that they had shared in the past, even before Monochrome was born. Monochrome watched the scene with a small sense of wonder, letting the two have their moment. Rainbow was happily asking the tortoise a variety of questions, and Tank’s turtle-grunts and squeaks responded to her with a matching energy. The sight of Tank’s happiness with their mother had Monochrome’s gaze softening, a gentle smile forming on their muzzle. It was true that Monochrome and Rainbow were barely anything alike. In personality, in interests. But Monochrome now realized that there was one single thing that they did share. Their mutual love for Tank. There was a chance it was the only thing that connected them and made them alike in any way. But maybe...maybe that was a good enough place to start than anything. Not just for their own benefit, but Tank’s as well. “Hey mom. I may be busy...but how about letting Tank stay with you guys? You know, until he needs to hibernate next week.” Both Tank and Rainbow Dash looked up at the pale pegasus, both equally caught off guard. “Wait, really?” Mo nodded. “Yeah. You and I aren’t the only ones who haven’t seen each other much. Tank deserves some one-on-one time with you, don’t you think? It’s been a while.” Rainbow and Tank exchanged glances. It didn’t take long for a grin to break back out on their mother’s face. Tank’s smile was taking a tad bit longer to form. “You know what? That’s a great idea! It could be like old times, buddy! You and me and some racing and Spectrum Storm books! What d’you say?” Tank nodded as quickly and eagerly as he could. Monochrome couldn’t hold back their chuckle. Of course he’d be on board. “Awesome!” Rainbow looked back over at her kid, already brimming with excitement. “Where’s Tank’s stuff? I can totally pack everything in a heartbeat!” “Everything’s in my room.” Monochrome motioned their head further into the hallway. “Last door on the left. You can find a travel bag in my closet-” “GOT IT!” With a burst of wind and a rainbow trail, their mother was dashing down the hall and into the bedroom. The sound of rummaging could be heard even from down the hall, and Monochrome prayed she wouldn’t somehow make a mess of their room. Feeling a nudge at their chest, Monochrome returned their attention to the turtle in their arms. There was a glimmer to his green eyes, and Mo easily recognized it as a mix of pride and gratitude. “You’re welcome, buddy.” Monochrome murmured, smiling down at him. “I know I’ve been the one taking you to your hibernation spot for years...but just this once, I think it’s her turn to read you your bedtime story.” Guilt pinched at their stomach. “I guess I could be there too...but I don’t think I’m ready to be alone with her like that. Without you.” Monochrome frowned, their eyebrows drawing back. “Unless you need me there, that is. Then-” Tank slowly slid one of his arms out of his shell and gently laid his foot on Monochrome’s arm. He shone that crinkly smile up at them, and Mo knew he understood. The relief eased their worried mind. Mo deeply exhaled the rest of the worries out. “Thanks Tank...now then. Are you going to behave?” Tank paused, as if taking a moment to think about it, before smiling serenely and shaking his head. Monochrome’s own eyes crinkled in amusement and fondness. “Good.” With that, Monochrome placed a loving peck on top of his head, and it only took a few seconds longer before their mother was zipping back up to them, the travel bag tossed over her shoulder. “Alright, got Mr. Squeaks, you bed, your ‘copter and goggles...that should be everything!” Flying down to Monochrome’s level, Rainbow Dash gave her kid a curious look. “Hey, you sure you don’t want to come too, Chromey? You could stay in your old room for a while and do your work over at our place! We won’t bother you! I mean, it’ll be kinda lonely here by yourself, won’t it?” Monochorme resisted a wince. They hadn’t really thought about the extra level of silence that’d exist without Tank being there. But it was like they had told Tank; they weren’t ready to move that fast. And they had other valid reasons. “I think I’d be able to concentrate better here. Besides, you know how my room gets cold and drafty now during the winter. It’s better to just keep my door closed.” “Well, if you say so!” With Tank in arm, Monochrome flapped their wings and joined Rainbow in moving towards the door. As their mother moved to open it, Monochrome took the chance to gently nuzzle Tank’s head. The realization that this was an early hibernation-send off was beginning to settle in, and that familiar ball of emotion was beginning to form within their chest. “I’ll see you in spring, Tank.” They whispered softly, only loud enough for him to hear. With a throaty noise in response, Tank affectionately rubbed his cheek against Monochrome’s. If it weren’t for Rainbow’s presence, Mo would have allowed their emotions to seep out. Thankfully, practice over the years had brought them enough control. ‘Yet somehow, this goodbye feels worse than every other one’ When their mother spun around and held out her forelegs with a smile, Monochrome carefully handed Tank over, moving their head every which way to make sure he was being held securely. With a sigh, Monochrome turned their attention back to their mother. “Don’t forget your copy of his favorite Daring Do book when he hibernates. You know he can’t-” “-fall asleep without it.” Rainbow finished in unison with Monochrome. The mare let out a snicker and Mo, surprisingly, felt the corner of their mouth pull up. “Right.” “Trust me, Chromey, I won’t!” Rainbow Dash smirked. “I’ll see you later then, pal! Don’t work yourself too hard!” “I’ll try not to.” With one last beam, Rainbow turned and began flying out the door. Monochrome followed her up to their doorway and hovered there as they saw the two off. It was then that the pegasus noticed a certain turtle head poke up over their mother’s shoulder, smiling at them. Mo practically felt their heart clench as Tank gave a little wave with his foot over Rainbow’s arm. Monochrome made sure to wave back, until neither of them were visible anymore. Monochrome retreated back into their house, letting out a heavy sigh as the stresses of that whole exchange finally caught up with them. They knew this wasn’t going to be easy. Hell, Monochrome had barely even scratched the surface of things. There was certainly still a long way to go before they could find the right words - and well...the courage - to convey all the things they had kept away. But hey...this was a start.

#Destinyverse #Rainbow Dash #Tank the Tortoise #Monochrome Dashielle #my little pony #mlp #mlp oc #mlp art #story

12 notes · View notes

simplycomplicatedwriting · 6 years ago

Text

Elijah Kamski x Reader - Shoot (pt 3a)

A/N: Sorry this took so long to come out. I know people probably lost interest by now- sorry!

This is only pt3a! There is another option! Go back to pt 2 to check out the other ending.

Part 1 Part 2

SHOOT

You could see what was about to happen, just before it did. You stood abruptly and grabbed Connors arm, forcing his aim upwards as he pulled the trigger.

“Elijah!” You snapped. The sharp edged of the guns neck pricked your hand as you slowly let go. The atmosphere was now so thick you could barely breath and all was silent. You went to apologise for your sudden outburst, but stopped yourself. Why should you? “I’m sorry about Mr Kamski’s actions, but that was completely uncalled for.” You spoke to Anderson, turning your eyes away from Elijah completely. The lieutenant nodded, obviously grateful for your actions.

“Connor, come on, we’re leaving. Now.” Anderson began to move off, but stopped when Connor didn’t follow. “Connor, what the fuck are you doing?” He barked.

“Mr Kamski said he would help us with our investigation. I complied with his conditions.” The android said defiantly.

“I… am a man of my word,” Elijah agreed. “You may ask me one question.”

“I can’t fucking believe this.” The lieutenant stormed off, pushing past the Chloe near him and headed for the exit. You looked briefly back at Elijah before following after the lieutenant.

“Lieutenant Anderson! Wait, please.”

You chased after Anderson until he stopped at his car. You leaned onto your knees, breathing heavily. It had only been a short distance, but you had not exercised in some time. Chloe hadn’t been kidding when she said it would be cool that day- it was snowing outside! How did you not notice?

You went to take another step towards the lieutenant, but your legs froze. You suddenly became very aware of how cold it really was. Your feet began to sting as icy snow covered your toes.

“Miss (Y/N)?” You looked up to see the lieutenant holding his car door open for you. You graciously jumped inside the heated car on the passenger's side. Anderson got in the other side and looked at you expectantly. “Well?” He said, arms folded.

“Lieutenant Anderson, I’d firstly like to apologise for what happened in there. Elijah… likes to test people.” You tried to explain, but there was nothing to explain. Your eyes fell down and stared at the floor of the car.

“Call me Hank.” Anderson said. “I appreciate what you’re doing, but you shouldn’t be the one apologising.” You nodded, feeling somewhat embarrassed now. “But there is something you could do for me.”

“Of course.”

“You had a lot to do with the first androids created. What’s your take on deviancy?” Hank’s expression had softened now, which made you more comfortable. You were silent for a moment, choosing your words carefully.

“When Elijah and our small team were first designing the first android, we had no intents on making them become deviant. We designed them as if we were making people, so that’s what they became. Lieuten- Hank, the deviants are alive. It’s not an error in the programming, it’s what they are.” Hank listened carefully to your words and he was in deep thought himself.

“Does your partner share the same opinion?”

“I… don’t know anymore. I have been out of it as of late, and I don’t know his current views. I know Elijah does not blame himself and I think it’s because he doesn’t see there’s anything to be blamed for.” You sighed out, huddling into your shirt and pants. There was a pen and paper on the dash of the car. You picked it up and scribbled your number on it. “If there’s anything I can help with, feel free to ask.”

Hank nodded but he was looking past you. You turned in your seat and saw Connor approaching the car and you knew it was your cue to leave. You carefully exited the car and waved goodbye to the lieutenant before running back to the warm mansion.

Once you were inside you were greeted by a Chloe which offered you a large jumper that you gratefully accepted. This is Elijah’s. You wondered if the android had specifically been instructed to give you one of Elijah’s jumpers to wear, especially since you had stormed off on him.

“I thought you might like a warm bath, so I prepared one in the upstairs bathroom.” The Chloe practically read your mind and you retreated upstairs and slipped into a preheated bath. The water was almost too warm, and stung your skin as you sunk your cold upper half into the tub.

You called out for the house assistant to play some music. A soft jazz tune filled the bathroom, echoing off of the tiled walls and sending you into a daze.

How could Elijah do that? Why would he force the test upon an android, especially after its owner had disagreed- especially after you had expressed distaste for the test.

Your views on the androids was similar to Elijah’s, but instead of seeing their potential, you only saw your children. Each face you remembered. Every dimple, every eyelash. You couldn’t understand why someone could so easily destroy an android. They were extraordinary works of art.

Then it hit you.

You weren’t completely sure what ‘it’ was, but it felt like a you’d been hit with a brick of thoughts. Inspiration? Was that what it was? You didn’t know, and you didn’t care.

You jumped out of the bath, almost slipping in the process, and threw on some clothes Chloe had laid out for you. You then ran out of the bathroom and to the stairwell, which you barely even stepped on as you descended.

Elijah was sitting in the chair you had been in not so long ago, pondering. He knew you weren’t happy, more than before now, because of his actions. He hadn’t expected you to get so flustered by his meeting with the lieutenant and Connor. He was trying to think of how to approach you; to apologise to you. He had an idea, but his thoughts were interrupted by the padding sound of wet feet and then your figure briefly in his view as you rushed by.

You slammed open the door to a forgotten room. Thoughts were rushing in and out of your head quicker than you could write them down. You took a moment to calm yourself and turned on the lights. Before you was a dusty study. You had instructed that only you were to enter the room. It had been your art room before you quit, but you still had your equipment. Feeling inspired you began to heat some clay in a microwave and while you waited, started sketching ideas on a large canvas.

Many hours later, not even close to being finished, you had made some progress. A clay sculpture, only in its early stages, stood by itself in the middle of the room. You had specifically made it to resemble the RK800’s. The sculpture stood in a position as if it was trying to break an invisible wall. You smiled to yourself. You felt inspired. You felt passionate. You felt good. It was as if you had been stuck in a dark room and you had broken free and were now in the light, sun kissing your skin as you breathed in fresh air.

There was a soft knock at the door and without thinking you said, “Come in.” As the door creaked open you realised your mistake and whipped clay on your face while trying to clean yourself up. You then looked back to your sculpture. It was kind of morbid now that you thought about it, but you had been so happy while making it.

“(Y/N)?” Elijah’s voice called out to your cautiously and his body barely entered the room. He knew well that you didn’t want anyone coming into your studio. His cautiousness went away once he got a glance of what he had been doing. He pulled the door open fully and stepped in, slightly in awe. “You’ve been sculpting.”

“No- I’ve been cooking. Of course I’ve been sculpting.” You said sarcastically and rolled your eyes to the heavens. Your expression then fell and you strunk into yourself, hands coiling up to near your chest. You were still upset with Elijah.

He smiled for a moment. You? Being sarcastic? He hadn’t heard that in a while. But then he saw you start going backwards to how you had been before. “I came to apologise. I-I didn’t mean to upset you, but I had to test the android. I had a feeling he could be special, but I had to be sure.”

“And are you sure now?”

“No… I’m not.” He said sheepishly. You sighed heavily and Elijah took some experimental steps towards you, but you jumped into his arms before he could get far. He eagerly hugged you back. “I won’t do that again, I promise.” His hand gently stroked your hair.

“Okay,” was all you muttered as you enjoyed his embrace. You never fought with Elijah, and this was barely even a fight, but just being angry with him had made you upset.

“I want to start sculpting again.” You spoke up. “And playing music, and painting, and I want to go out more! I think we should go on a date.” You had piped up significantly, your enthusiasm returning again. Elijah laughed and agreed to it all. He was so delighted to see you so full of life suddenly. Maybe he had been the cause of your passionless phase as he wasn’t one to be very expressive, or maybe leaving Cyberlife wasn’t the best thing for you, but that was in the past. He wanted to promise you he would try to help you feel better, but he decided not to say it aloud and rather say it with his actions.

#dbh #detroit become human #detroit become human imagine #detroit become human kamski #kamski #elijah #elijah kamski #elijah imagine #dbh kamski #kamski imagine #imagine #x reader #pt3 #multiple choice

151 notes · View notes