#i believe these two pages have some drawings i have never posted before | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ramp-it-up · 1 month ago

Text

Best of All

Pairing: Pilot!Steve Rogers x Publicist! Reader

Word count: 3.3 K

Summary: You and Steve FINALLY make it to your suite. And the results are sweet.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY Minors, DNI. Former Enemies to Lovers, and there was only one bed, 20 yr angst, sexual frustration, A yacht, swimming,Steve sketching reader, dry humping, fingering, size kink, personal lubricant, woman on top/ in control, Captain/Sir kink, praise/degradation kink, dirty talk, sloppy oral (m/f receiving), raw p in v, breeding/lactation kink, creampie. Basically porn with plot. Not Beta’d. All errors are on me.

This is the next part in the Greatest series.

A/N: It has been just a little over exactly a year since I've written these two. Please forgive my ain't-shitness. And thank you for rocking with me. I love you all!

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

-----

You were relaxing on the bow of the yacht, staring out over an amazing view.

You’d had a delicious brunch with Aperol spritzes, and as the yacht floated on the beautiful Gulf of Genoa, the only sounds you heard were of the water, John Coltraine, and the scratching of Steve’s pencil against the paper of his sketch pad.

He had been wonderful, and contemplative, company for you.

Your time was spent journaling and looking at the water and the cliffs, rotating your lounger with the sun. You even dozed for a few minutes, waking up to find Steve looking at you piercingly as he sketched.

Your sister was right.

Steve was very much into you.

You could get used to this you thought as you got up and walked over to Steve, who looked up at you and smiled.

“Can I see what you’re sketching?”

Steve blushed, and then moved so that you could sit down beside him.

“Sure.”

He put his pencils down and handed his leather bound sketch book to you. You gasped.

“Steve! These are…”

You flipped the pages, looking to him for approval. He nodded and smiled at you.

There were many images, on the boat, some very detailed from the day, some rough sketches, but they were all clearly you. You turned to one drawing of you naked, and it made you feel some kind of way.

You’d never posed that way for him.

“Drew that one from memory. Last night.”

“You make me look so…”

“Beautiful? Then that just means I’m drawing you accurately.”

“You really see me this way?”

You were gazing at the sketches with wonder.

“I can’t believe that you don’t. Y/N. You are one of the most beautiful, most desirable women I’ve ever seen. People talk about Aria, but she looks just like you.”

You turned and put the sketch book down on the table beside Steve’s lounger.

“Can I have a kiss?”

Steve’s eyes lit up.

“You can have anything you want.”

“I want you…”

Steve groaned as you climbed up on his lap and grabbed his face. You traced his lips with your fingers before he closed the distance between you and captured yours with his own. You were breathless before he pulled back and rested his forehead on yours.

“That was… nice.”

Steve shifted, sending his crotch grinding into yours and relishing the way you shivered in his arms.

“You want me?”

Steve looked back up at you. Hopeful.

“Yes. And I want to try. A relationship? Dating once we get back to the states? It will be hard. I travel a lot with what I do, go from coast to coast, and all over the world with Aria.”

You were nervously speaking in questions.

“Hmmm. Wonder how I could get from coast to coast, and all over the world? Oh right, I have two airplanes and I’m a pilot.”

Steve smirked at you as you smacked him on the arm.

“I just don’t want you to feel as if you have to chase after me. Or wait for me to get back when I need to go. Long distance can be hard.”

Steve nodded, and then gave you a quick peck on your lips.

“I know. But I would follow you to the ends of the earth. And I’ve already waited for 20 years. What’s a little longer?”

“How can you be so damn perfect?”

You attacked him, kissing him again as he laughed and grabbed you, holding you close.

“Not perfect, maybe just perfect for you?”

“Maybe,” you smiled into his shirt as you traced a vein down his arm.

“But I want a do over.”

“A do over of what?”

“Of our first date.”

“Tonight?”

“Yes, tonight. But first, I wonder if you will give me some? Please? Pretty please Steve?”

You reached down and grasped his hardness in your hand; Steve moaned.

Steve’s mouth was open as you begged for him.

“Oh Baby, you have no idea how much I want that.”

You whined as you moved your hips to feel more of him.

“Steve… need you…”

Your sultry whisper in his ear made him weak.

“Me too. I just … I want it to be special… to take our time…”

“I need you inside me, Captain.”

“Fuuuuuck.…I want that too, Doll. So bad… I dreamt of it last night.”

Steve moved so that his mouth was on your neck.

“You taste like coconuts right now. Why is that?”

“Hmmmm. Flavored body oil spray. It’s edible.”

“Well then, I need to taste more…later. “

You writhed against him hoping for some relief.

“So desperate. I love it when you get needy for me, Baby.”

Steve took in your face and your lips opened in desire. He grabbed the back of your neck, wrapping his hand around your face and inserted his thumb into your mouth. You sucked at it greedily which made him groan again.

“Is that what you want?”

You moaned around his digit and nodded, your heart about to beat out of your chest. Steve leaned down to whisper in your ear as he shoved his thumb further past your tongue and held your mouth open.

“I loved the way you took it in your mouth yesterday. Such a good, good throat. Such a good, sweet girl for me.”

His hand was now at the crotch of your bathing suit and your eyes rolled back into your head at his filthy words as he gagged you with his digit. His long fingers on his other hand pulled the suit to the side and slowly inserted two inside you.

“I can barely get in here, Sweetheart. You’re gonna struggle to take me …”

You grunted, both at what he was doing to you and at what he was saying.

“Yes… you’ll have to be patient just a little while longer. Tonight…”

His wet thumb was caressing your nipples over your bathing suit now. You were frustrated.

“You’re all talk.”

“And you’ll do whatever I say. Later.”

Steve’s words and his steely eyed stare were speaking straight to your pussy. You clenched down on his fingers and he moaned.

“So fucking right. Patience, Doll. Just a little while longer. Meanwhile, you and I need to cool down.”

Steve abandoned you to take off his shirt, laughing at your lust before he reached down to gather you in his arms again while approaching the passerelle.

“Can you get your hair wet?”

“Yes, I planned on swimming, but are you really about to throw me in the water right now?”

“No. “

Steve shook his head as he stopped on the edge.

“Good.”

You smiled as you took in the view.

“I figure we’d take the plunge together.”

And then he backed up and ran toward the edge, you squealing in his arms, the warm mediterranean water separating you when you hit the surface. Soon you felt his arms slip back around you as you found each other again and kissed in the warm Italian sun.

You wanted this moment to last forever.

—-

You made it through the 6 hour voyage and back to the hotel to change for dinner. The meal was nice, with great wine and even better conversation.

After the meal, Steve asked a question as you walked to the elevators.

“Does that invitation to your suite still stand?”

You pressed your back into the elevator wall as Steve pressed the button for your floor before you even answered his question.

This cocky bastard. It was so hot.

“Sure, are we gonna have a pillow fight?” You raised your arms to his board shoulders as he leaned down to your ear.

“Did you say pillow bite?”

You cocked your head at him, smirking.

“So it’s like that?”

“Very much so.”

You kissed him as the doors opened onto your floor. Steve kept his hands on you as you opened your door and immediately had you up against the first available surface once the door closed hands and mouth everywhere he could reach.

After you two almost broke what looked to be a very expensive vase, Steve stepped back from you, lips swollen from your kisses and chest heaving.

“D’you want me as much as I want you?”

You realized now that the look on Steve’s face that you’d once interpreted to be irritation with you or annoyance, was in fact concentration. You pondered the meaning of being the center of his attention as you moved toward him.

“Do you not remember the way I took your cock down my throat the other day?”

You pressed your body against his and Steve swore, growling in your ear.

“Oh yes. That was truly.” He kissed your neck.

“Truly.”

This time the kiss was on the plane of your chin.

“Truly amazing.”

He kissed your lips softly when you decided you were tired of playing around. You grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the bedroom.

—-

Soon, you were both naked in the bedroom, a bottle of Prosecco rescued from the honor bar and opened on the dresser. Your eyes were drawn to Steve Rogers, who was as beautiful as one of the statues in the Galleria Borghese.

Steve was grasping his cock at the base as his eyes swept over your body. He was remembering the taste of you.

“You are so beautiful.”

He squeezed himself harder and tried to keep from moving his hand up and down his thick shaft as you stared and licked your lips.

“Come over here, Stevie. Please.”

You lay on the bed on your stomach, showcasing your ass and looking at him invitingly. Stave moved closer, but stopped.

“What if I told you that I wasn’t going to fuck you tonight?”

You began to pout.

“Fix that face.”

That command made you whimper at the power in his voice.

“You are going to fuck me, Doll.”

“What?”

Steve reached for your hand as he switched places with you. Then he lay there and resumed stroking himself. You licked your lips at the sight and retrieved the bottle of Prosecco, suddenly very thirsty.

You contemplated the power he was giving you, and decided you liked this rush of control.

“I like the idea of that, Steve. I’ll get to express exactly how much I want you.”

You took a swig and leaned down to kiss him, giving him a taste from your lips. He licked your mouth as you thumbed his nipples, causing him to shiver from your cold touch. You couldn’t resist tasting his cherry red lips again and again as you lightly squeezed his throat, then ran your hand down his sternum and his abs to the tip of his wet cock.

You grazed the length of him down to his balls, then looked into his eyes and kissed his lips as you took control of him.

“Your lips are perfect,” you whispered as you caressed him.

“No. yours,” replied Steve as he sought your mouth again.

“You like my mouth?”

As you leaned to teasingly kiss the thick cap of his cock, then took him fully down your throat

“Oh.. Shit…”

Steve massaged your scalp as you bobbed on him

“You are so fucking hot, Doll…”

You looked up with a smile and moved to lick his nipple, then kiss him again as you stroked him. Steve was mesmerized. Your hands, your lips, your tongue, he couldn’t concentrate on any one part of you that was ruining him.

It was sensation overload, and he needed to focus to not shoot off.

You were drunk on power. You spit on his cock, deep-throated him once, twice more, and then pulled away, causing Steve to groan as you withdrew contact, your sloppy blow job scrambling his brain. His head was on a swivel as he watched you get up to go to the dresser.

“May I?”

Steve nodded, eager for what was to come. You had a small spray bottle in your hand, and when the liquid made contact with his body, he jumped from the sensation. You rubbed the oil on his cock and up his body to his nipples, basking in the rapt attention he paid you as you sprayed yourself between your breasts. Steve’s cock got impossibly harder in your hand at the sight.

“I think I’m gonna like this.

You loved to hear his sexy deep voice break.

“You like me?”

“Yeah. I…”

Steve trailed off as your hands roamed his body.

“I like you too, Stevie,” you kissed him again. ”

Steve actually whimpered as you swung your leg over his hips and sat down on his cock, rubbing your pussy along his shaft as it lay against his stomach. He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw to keep from manhandling you.

“I wanna try that sweet cunt.”

“Hmmm. Is it sweet? Wanna taste it again?”

You leaned back and circled your clit with two fingers, then inserted them into his pretty mouth. Steve’s adam's apple bobbed as he sucked your fingers and swallowed your taste. You pulled away to suck his cock again until he was moaning, at which point you kissed and licked your way up his body, settling your thighs at his shoulders.

He gripped your ass as he turned hushed head so that his lips could kiss your thigh. His fingers reached around your leg to play in your crease as he gave your clit kitten licks and kisses. You tried to move back down, but he grasped your thighs hard enough to leave bruises that would give you daydreams the next day. He started sucking your clit so intently that you began seeing stars.

“Wanna fuck you now, Stevie. Wanna cum on your cock”

You were on the edge as Steve pulled off of your clit with an obscene slurp.

“I’m yours, Y/N.”

You reached back and grabbed his throbbing cock as you scooted your pelvis down, one hand on his neck and one hand positioning him to enter you. His shaft was large, but the head was even wider, and the stretch as you worked yourself open on him made you moan loudly. Steve grabbed your chin to make you look at him while you slid down his length, stretching yourself out so incredibly well.

“My cock looks so big against your tiny pussy.”

His eyes were riveted.

“It is big, Captain. You’re so huge.”

You grabbed the headboard while you adjusted to his size. Steve’s hands came up around your waist and held you steady as you trembled around him.

Those blue eyes looked up at you with adoration.

“You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Are you okay, Doll?”

“It feels amazing,” you stared down into his eyes and smiled, your slick leaking down his thick shaft to collect and drip off his balls.

“Yes. Yes it does. Holy mother god.”

He looked down to where you were connected.

“You’re wrapped around me so tight and so good, Doll.”

Steve looked up at you and licked his lips, pupils blown wide and struck dumb by lust.

You leaned down and kissed him when you bottomed out on him.

You stared at each other as you both finally got what you wanted. You took his head in your hands and kissed him as you pounded together.

Then you started moving.

Steve played with your nipples and you arched backwards as he planted his feet and pistoned up into you faster.

“Oh! Steve. Feel so full. So good.”

Steve wrapped his arms around your waist and held you in place as his hips moved at the devil's pace. The sound of his dick breaching your wet pussy and skin slapping on skin was everything. His thumb went to your clit and traced figure eights as you shuddered in his grip.

“F-f-f- u-u-u-ck! I’m- I’m coming!”

“Give it to me!”

He stroked you through your orgasm and then sat up, manipulating you so that you were sitting back on your arms in his lap as he moved you up and down his cock like a sex toy.

“Shit, you feel so good!”

Steve looked down at you and then up at the ceiling, eyes rolling

“Jesus, you’re so fucking hot.”

You looked down and the image of Steve’s large member destroying your hole was enough to make you cum around his cock again. Steve took control, taking your hips in his large hands and moving you at his will.

“Oh my god.”

He ground you against the base of his cock and started grinding circles for his greedy eyes and your pleasure. You were addicted.

“Such a good little slut for my cock. Need you to give me one more. That’s it. Good girl.”

He grabbed you by the hair and kissed you as you shuddered through your orgasm and suddenly, you were on your back as Steve flipped you over, getting on his knees and folding you in half to fuck you even better.

Steve stopped as he tried to hold back.

“You got me so close Doll… I gotta calm down.”

“I just want you to stuff me full of your cum, Captain.”

“Ooohhhhhh. Fuck.”

Steve sped up and then stopped, trying to calm down. But he couldn’t help what he said next that turned out to be his doom.

“Are- are you trying to have my baby, Y/N.”

You arched against him, shuddering at the thought.

“Nnnnnnoooooo. Fuck. Maybe.”

“You wanna be all round and full of my child, tits so full of milk…so I can suck… holy fuck!”

The image was making Steve start to shoot off.

“Fill me up, Steve–I”

“Ahhh!”

And then you keened as you felt his hot cum start to spurt against your walls. You came around his rapidly pulsing cock as he finished inside you.

You two were a hot, sweaty heap as you came down together, Steve kissing your forehead and praising you.

“You did so good for me.”

He gathered you in his arms.

“I love you.”

Steve gazed at you.

“Think I’ve been in love with you for 20 years, Y/N.”

You smiled at him.

“I love you too.”

You said it, barely above a whisper. But you meant it. Then you said it again.

“I love you, Steve Rogers.”

You attacked him, kissing him again as he laughed and grabbed you, holding you close.

“All of the bad things that we’ve gone through to get to this moment is for the best. I can see that now.”

Steve looked to you just like that little boy you met 20 years ago. Then you saw the beautiful man who loved you.

“You’re right. And this, right now. It’s the best of all.”

179 notes · View notes

caraphernellie · 3 months ago

Text

SLOW HANDS. EIGHTEEN PLUS INTERACTIONS ONLY.

so in this drabble, i mentioned having a draft about a reader with an oral fixation and always wanting to suck on ellie's fingers. here is the aforementioned draft, mostly self indulgent because i just really want ellie's fingies in my mouth and also this is straight up more yappery about her hands and how much i love them (bordering on hand kink atp) than anything oral fixation related (but that's included, don't worry)– just using this as a thought space to get myself into the writing mood, and i'm not the proudest of it based on the writing style but thought i'd post it anyway.

ellie's hands are a true blessing, are they not? calloused and rough from years of guitar, a testament to the bond she has with loved ones (of course joel, who taught her to play) but perhaps also from the determination to perfect her art. hours spent journaling and detailing every moment of her day like a sweetheart, keeping tabs on things and always taking time to keep herself grounded. she'll sketch things throughout her days, drawing everyday from the pettiest of pretty landscapes to her most beloved people, all in the name of improving and documenting her journey through life.

ellie is quite an awkward person in general, at least that's an observation i've made overtime – i don't mean her personality with this, although that's certainly true as well! i mean physically. she's not so coordinated. she's not precise. she's always stumbling or falling around the place, she's got that gay ass gait, and she takes less time thinking, always acting without it.

but i think even despite her being a little challenged in a coordinational sense, and how she's rather lanky, it doesn't mean she isn't practised. moving away from a modern au for a second– think about living in the apocalypse. how she's grown so used to defending herself, handling heavy weaponry. her hands will move deftly to fire, reload, and protect herself, every action memorised after years. and moving a little more towards a modern au once again, although ellie does have a ps3 in canon, how she'd be so good at gaming. nerd activities are right up ellie's alley and of course gaming has to be up there too– her hands have a wide breadth and her fingers are nimble and long, she'd probably be really good with that advantage.

so, all this to say, it'd be hard not to be so distracted if you were dating ellie williams. especially watching her work on any of the many rather attractive passions of hers – her music, her art, or, well, gaming. large hands veiny and rough, perhaps smoothing out a page in her journal, retuning her guitar, or fumbling with a controller. and yet, all you can focus on is the capability of them, lost in memories that live in your head of the way she warmly grabs at your body or how it feels when her fingers are buried deep inside you, soaked in slick and rubbing at the walls that squeeze around them.

and it really could just be a comforting thing for you, getting to sit, observe, and take in every detail of your girl while she's right there next to you. and really, it's something she's noticed. it was nothing unexpected. it was just so cute to ellie how if she'd let you get a hold of them, you'd pepper little kisses along her wrist, up the back of her hand and onto her knuckles. she'd sit with rosy cheeks and watch you, rub her thumb along the curve of your lip gently before replacing it with her own lips.

what she never really expected was how far your fixation goes. she'd had a habit of sometimes liking to lick her fingers before or after touching you, a sight that of course made you squirm, but in some way, you started to get jealous of ellie.

before ellie could even try, you'd already grabbed her by the wrist and taken two long fingers between your lips, sighing almost in relief. best believe it shocked ellie at first, but she couldn't keep her eyes off of you, nor the way it clearly turned you on so much more than usual to suck her fingers into your mouth.

staring down at how your cunt took her so easily after, she whispered dirty words in utter shock. "fuck, baby, just swallowin' my fingers, aren't you?"

after that day, no longer was ellie able to indulge in the taste of your pussy on her fingers. it was commonplace for to let you lick her hands clean, and she'd started taking advantage of your fixation in other ways, too. too loud? she'll wrap her free arm around you and shove her fingers into your mouth to silence you while her other hand is between your thighs. she'll relish in the sweet humming muffled by her digits, looking into your sleepy, pleased eyes.

it starts manifesting in different ways, less heated and amorous situations, instead quiet and calm times. wrapped up in blankets together on the couch one evening, ellie so casually rubs her forefinger over your lips to play with you; teasing you with the closeness whilst pretending to be engrossed in the movie playing on screen. her thumb tugs gently at your lower lip, pulling the soft skin down before slipping into the wet warmth of your mouth.

it's not like you were paying attention to the movie anyway, but it's much harder to look now – as if taking silent instruction, you close your eyes and slowly run your tongue along her skin. you fall victim to the sudden heat radiating the couch, holding her wrist close with three fingers in your mouth and a wet patch growing into your pyjama shorts.

photomode creds to @/stcreeka and @/T1OU_ on pinterest!!

#𖤐 ── petalrambling.#ellie williams x reader #tlou2 x reader #ellie williams x fem reader #lesbian #wlw nsft #sapphic smut #ellie williams smut

221 notes · View notes

goldenshrikecomic · 2 months ago

Text

FAQ

Please read these before sending asks! It's also good to check the tags listed on the pinned post to see if it's already answered. Where can I read GS? On Comicfury or DeviantArt. Two pages ahead on both Patreon and Ko-fi.

Who works on this comic? Only me, ratt/doeprince. You can call me either, I usually refer to myself as doeprince when it's more official, otherwise ratt or some secret third thing. I'm an amateur artist and I draw these comics for fun without much ambition to gain greatness. I want to make enough money to be able to keep working on more comics, and buy trinkets.

How can I support what you do? Why thank you for asking! All my income comes from making comics, so the support on either Patreon or Ko-fi is literally making my comic endeavours possible.

Do you have other projects? I work on some secondary comics. Jet and Harley and Honey are currently updating, Corpse is finished. You can find my other art on doe-prince.

How long will Golden Shrike be? I don't know how many pages. I hope it's less than 1000.

What programs do you use? SAI for lineart, CSP for coloring and bubbles, PS for text and backgrounds. Hoooow do you draw the antlers from different perspectives? I've made 3D models for each recurring antlered character.

Is GS going to have physical merch? Will it be printed? Consider this a no, but I won't say never.

Does GS have a map, official wiki or dub or something like that? No. There's a fan wiki out there full of inaccurate information so take everything in there with tons of grains of salt. There's no map. The dub on YT is separate from me, I've had no hand in it.

Can I make a fan character? Can they interact with yours? You can absolutely make a fan character! I just ask you not to make them interact with mine, at least not in any kind of heavy way. It's a slippery slope and I've seen people treat my characters very rudely to make them suit their needs.

Can I make fanart/writing? Yes! All sfw and well-meaning works are welcome. Just tag me so I can see them! Why are the borders black and sometimes white? White borders means it's a flashback.

Deer don't do that!!!!! Or birds!! Or plants! The moon shouldn't be that shape right now. Everything in GS is fictional for this very reason. I shall not be shackled by the chains of realism when there's entire new worlds in my fingertips. I aim to make things believeable in its context, not realistic. Are other animals sentient, can they talk? Sure they are and can, but not outside their own species. A frog can't hold a conversation with a deer, but a deer and antelope could possibly make it work. There's exceptions though.

How old are main characters? They're fawns right? No they are not, they'd all be in their early 20s if they were humans.

What does sire mean? It keeps popping up in different contexts. You can liken this term to 'father', as in your dad but also something like a priest. The priest isn't your dad but "father forgive me for I've sinned". So sire is a) respected stag, b) very formal way to address your father. Dame is the female counterpart. Why are the does so small compared to stags.... are you a freak... do you just hate women..... Listen when I started GS I had been dwelling in a place where monster deer characters had insane size differences and it became some kind of norm to me and of course it found its way into my comic. Now I just have to keep drawing those tiny women to keep up the consistency. I've created bigger ladies nowadays because I too think it's a little silly now.

Please please will this character ever get a mate? Will this pairing be canon? Will you please make this pairing canon? I won't spoil any pairings, I think it'd be the most boring thing to do to my own work! I'll only confirm the ones already established in the comic.

Is this a speck of ember? Is it snow? What is that floating thing, is it relevant to the plot? IT'S JUST MY DUST BRUSH LEAVE ME ALONE.

#golden shrike #comic faq

112 notes · View notes

decaying-church · 1 year ago

Text

Slasher Nsfw Headcanons

(a/n: pretend I've been posting constantly this year :))

Pairing : Herbert West x male!reader, Vincent Sinclair x male!reader

Requested by @unspeakableoftheoscarwildesorr : Will you do a nsfw headcannons with vincent sinclaire and herbert west? It’s alright if you don’t want to. Please have a good day :))

Warning: bottom!slashers, top!reader, hair pulling, public play, Vincent's conservative upbringing, Vincent writes smut for you, bondage, mentions of chemical burns, getting caught multiple times (slight exhibitionist Herbert) sorry dan, breeding, aftercare

Characters: Herbert West, Vincent Sinclair

Vincent Sinclair

He likes it when you watch him work, hovering over his shoulder, sometimes leaning on the table next to him. It makes him nervous, his hands fumbling a bit. If you tell him he was doing good and his brain would shut off.

He loves it when you praise him.

He also likes it when you run your hand over his back, whether you're giving him a massage or just feeling clingy he won't be able to focus on anything but you touching him.

Definitely a virgin when you met, but he knows about the general action of sex. Like the thing goes in the thing and then a baby comes out.

An utterly submissive bottom.

Before you met he figured that if he ever did end up having sex then he’d be the one doing all the work, as men do. (mmmh, conservative, yee-haw upbringing)

But then he met you, and he loved you, and you were both men, so his picture of what sex should be was completely shattered.

If you're generally smaller than him, he’ll try and be dominant. It won't work, the second you flirt with him or make a suggestive comment he goes weak in the knees.

He will make a single attempt at being on top before metaphorically throwing his hands up and going “well I tried”.

If your bigger, there is no attempt, there isn't even a thought of dominance, you were bigger- stronger, therefore you could do whatever you wanted to him and he would not complain (he will never tell you this because he knows you’d tell him otherwise but it honestly added an extra layer of excitement to everything)

The town is pretty empty so the two of you could essentially fuck anywhere.

You once joked about fucking in the middle of the road- and even though you were just joking, the thought of you holding him down on the old road, in front of all those houses, fucking him without a hint of modesty or secrecy genuinely plagued his dreams for several nights.

In reality, you’ve fucked in the gas station, in the movie theater, in the church, and in (or in more risky cases, against) the various houses around town.

Personally, I believe Vincent can talk, he’s just severely traumatized and doesn’t do it often, most days he communicates though groans, gestures, and forms of writing or drawing.

So, sometimes, when he wants you to try someone very specific with him, something too specific for him to say out loud, partially because of humiliation, but also because speaking was difficult for him, he will write it.

And not simple sentences either, he will go on and on about what he wants you to do to him, he’ll draw pictures, he’ll rant on for pages and pages.

The first time he did this you nearly read it out loud, you got about half a sentence in before realizing that no one else (especially Lester, who was just in the next room) needed to hear what he’d written for you.

Of course, with a set of quite specific instructions, you were able to make his every fantasy come true.

Vincent can genuinely go forever, round after round after round.

After years of being a recluse, he has a limit for how long he can go without some kind of stimulation.

Really, finally having someone who wants him and loves him above everybody else makes it a bit harder to continue the streak of celibacy he had before.

He can go about two weeks before he starts outright begging you to fuck him. Again, in great detail.

He doesn't have any prior experience so you'll have to teach him quite a few things.

The first time he asked you to tie him up he brought you some old ratty rope that would have torn his skin the moment things got too intense.

You have to ride out of tow a couple of times for supplies.

He is heartbroken every single time you leave, he always half expects you to just keep driving and never come back.

You always come back, much to Bo’s, who has to put up with Vincent being agiant baby whenever you leave, relief.

(if you ever actually leave Vincent, Bo will hunt you down. Despite everything he does love his brother)

He has a pretty average set of kinks, he likes being praised, tied up, and fucked within an inch of consciousness. He like it when you pull his hair and call him pretty, he likes getting fucked in places he shouldn’t, and he likes it when you leave marks on him.

Aftercare fiend, he’s not a pillow princess but you’d think he was with the way that he’d just lay there, fully fucked out, waiting for you to take care of him.

If you’re someplace where you can’t fully take care of him, (I.e. any other place you’ve fucked outside of your bedroom) he will become extremely flustered. Because that means he has to travel however far away you are from your bedroom in this state. And you could be several houses away or just a couple rooms away but he doesn’t consider either to be more or less embarrassing.

The state he’s in could varies depending on what you did, he could just have ruffled hair and messy clothes, or he could be walking around with a limp with every inch of visible skin covered in bruises.

Herbert West

A very busy man that doesn't like being interrupted while working.

That being said, he will sit on your cock while he's working.

He’ll tease you, act like he’s ready to get his back blown out against his desk, only for him to keep you inside while he works, shifting every so often, fully ignoring how hard he was in favor of chemicals and mildly unethical plans.

You might be able to fully pull him away from work if you give him an explicit rundown of all of the things you were going to do to him.

It'll distract him to the point that he just gives up, grabbing you by the shirt and pulling you in for a kiss.

Most of your “interactions” in his lab were just the two of you humping like animals on the nearest flat surface, which could be anything, a desk, the floor, the wall.

The two of you had so many chemical burns that could have been avoided simply by moving to his bedroom, you think the two off you would learn your lesson after the first time- you didn’t.

Herbert did not care what Dan heard or saw.

This was his house too after all. He could fuck wherever he wanted.

You’ve be caught by Dan an embarrassing amount of times.

Herbert from time to time will treat you like an experiment.

Don’t be surprised if he strips you down and asks to run some “test”

Herbert really, really likes oral.

He loves it when you guide him, one hand in his hair, slowly pulling him back and forth on your cock.

He is not immune to pet names.

Honey, baby, sweetheart, darling. The list goes on.

While he certainly likes those names, nothing captures his attention quite like you calling him “doctor”

This would be extremely inconvenience if you also worked at the hospital (the number of quickies had in closets/labs/bathrooms is downright disposable)

If you don't, you do it purely to tease him.

Leaning in close, telling him all the disgusting things you want to do to him, then just, “come on, Doctor West, don't you think you deserve a break?”

Herbert is definitely a switch with a preference for power bottoming.

He's in control while also getting fucked sideways, it's perfect for him.

When he is feeling fully submissive he will beg you to breed him.

He knows he can't necessarily be bred, but he likes the feeling of you cumming in him over and over.

Every position he likes, he likes for a very specific reason.

He likes missionary because he can leave marks all over your back, he likes being bent over the table so he has something to rest against when his legs inevitably gave out, he liked getting fucked on the wall because he liked how frantic and desperate it felt.

He will not flirt or try and sugarcoat what he wants, he doesn't care who hears, if he wants you to fuck him, he's going to tell you.

Herbert says he doesn’t like slow sex, but there’s been a couple of times when he hits a road block with his research and he’s frustrated and overwhelmed by everything and everyone and he just wants you to make it better.

You can’t necessarily help with the research but you could help him relax.

The way he reacts to aftercare changes drastically throughout your relationship.

When you first got together, he didn’t want you near him, don’t touch him, don’t talk to him, don’t look at him. Even though his legs were shaking violently and his body felt like it was on fire he insisted that he could handle everything himself.

There was somehow always water and food for him though, he figured it was a coincidence (leave him alone, his brain isn’t working at full capacity at the moment)

Further into you’re relationship he will definitely still be a brat about it, but less so. He’ll let you clean him, feed him, praise him. And on some of the more intense days, you’re gonna be carrying him around like a princess.

He “hates it”, but the moment you try and leave him to fend for himself, he gets even more irritated.

If it’s one of those days where you’re both bone tired afterwards then he’ll let you cuddle with him, he won’t initiate it, but he’ll enjoy it .

Kinktober 2023

#vincent sinclair x male!reader #vincent sinclair x male reader #vincent sinclair x reader #herbert west x male!reader #herbert west x male reader #herbert west x reader #male reader #x male reader #male!reader #x male!reader #dom male reader #dom!male!reader #top male reader #top!male!reader #top!reader #dom!reader

514 notes · View notes

alldoll3dup · 11 months ago

Text

໑୧﹒★﹒Velvet as your girlfriend - Headcanon's ᰍ﹒∿

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - You are the girlfriend of the famous Velvet, what must it be like to date such an incredible celebrity like her? (the troll thing didn't happen)

𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦 - Trolls

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - FEM!Reader, fluff, swearing, jealousy

- Velvet never uses your real name, she only calls you by silly nicknames like "Star", "Sweetie" and even some that she makes up herself

- You know Velvet is annoyed with you when she uses your real name (it is really scary)

- I don't think Velvet is the most affectionate person in the world, but she definitely gives you kisses and bites at random times.

- You can't be distracted for a minute because Velvet will attack your neck with bites

- When you hug, or show affection, at first she complains, but when you let her go, she pulls you back again

- Her love language is words of affirmation (for her), gifts (for you and her), and quality time (for you and her)

- Velvet loves spending time with you, the two of you hugging each other talking or gossiping about random things

- You and Velvet tend to gossip a lot, about Crimp, people from the artistic world, people that Velvet hates (half the planet)

- She loves when you tell her how much you love her and that she's amazing, Velvet doesn't show it, but she's very insecure that you might leave her for someone better one day, so you constantly tell her how incredible she is

- This girl will spoil you so much! To the point that if you go out together and you look at something she buys three of the same thing to give you

- Did a new cell phone come out? You already have, Have you told her the things you like? The next day she appears with several of the same thing

- But if you give Velvet a gift? She will be completely embarrassed, she can buy whatever she wants, but seeing you making the effort to give her a gift? You've already won that girl heart

- Especially if you draw her

"Hey, Vel look, I drew you!"

"MARRY ME JAHWJEIEJR"

- She has a special shelf for the things you give her (she even keeps the flowers 😭)

- Better consider yourself as sub-celebrity dating Velvet, she will create an instagram page just to post cute couple photos with you

- She writes songs dedicated to you and literally talks about you everywhere, she wants everyone to know how amazing her girlfriend is

- If someone treats you badly or be rude to you, they may consider themselves as Velvet's mortal enemys

- She deletes all the bad comments about you and sometimes tells her fans to attack people that talk bad about you

"Little star dont care about what they say, you're perfect!"

"What are you talking about, Vel?"

"Shhhhh dont worry, I already ended their lives"

- When you go out together she is always holding your hand or glued to you

- But if she is not with you, you can be sure that you will be surrounded by bodyguards, she cares a lot about you and your safety

- If you are an artist you will have several feats with Velvet, everything you post she shares everywhere

- She loves your kisses and hugs, especially before a show, she believes it brings her luck

- You two do skin care together every morning, it has become routine

- Velvet trusts you to do her makeup, according to her you are the best makeup artist in the world

- Velvet also loves doing your hair, she plays with it and tries out some hairstyles on you

- Every morning when she wakes up and every night before going to sleep, Velvet waits for you little kiss (another thing that is part of the routine)

- You and Velvet are soulmates, most people are afraid of one day displeasing one of you two, because your judgment is super accurate

- I believe jealous Velvet destroys lives

- She will literally humiliate the person who is making her jealous, did someone flirt with you? Velvet ruins their reputation while holding onto your waist with a death glare at the person

"Who do you think you are? Look at you, an dumbass trying to flirt with my girlfriend"

- When you finally managed to get Velvet away from the person she would ask you a million questions "Sweetie why did you let they talk to you like that? Don't you love me?"

- She is always the big spoon, even if you are taller than her (which I find difficult)

- She probably teases you sometimes like are you missing her after a long show? Prepare to be teased "Oh so my little cutie can't be without me for a long time?" (she missed you a lot too)

- She always wants to be in control of everything, are you going to do something? Ask Velvet first and don't disobey her

▐ Hello y'all! I loved writing this, I was smiling like an idiot while writing LOL

▐ Sorry if there are any grammatical errors love you guys ^^

★ Requests are open!

#trolls #trolls band together #trolls velvet #velvet trolls #velvet x reader #headcannons #fluff #fem reader #trolls x reader

202 notes · View notes

gaywineauntsstuff · 15 days ago

Text

Birthdays

Dicks starts a tradition, for every first birthday one of his loved ones spends with him, he gives them a part of his heart.

Jason: Dick isn't there for Jasons first birthday at the manor because well... he isn't exactly welcome at the manor but he snuck Jason his number weeks in advance to make sure Jay would be at his crappy apartment the day after his birthday. And he gives Jason a collection of poetry his mother had written while they had traveled around the world. He had memorised all of them many years ago but he wanted to give Jason something tangible to connect them together. He might not be related to Bruce, he might not be Jason's brother by law or blood but Jason carries the robin name and Mary Graysons words so he is Dick's brother no matter what Bruce wants to say about it. Some of the poems aren't in English but they all flow beautifully and are written in the same black swirling script. Jason cries real tears and clings to Dick because this isn't something he can say he's had before. When Jason died, Dick took it from Jays room because he didn't allow it to be part of a mausoleum for his brother he wasn't going to let it be part of one for his brother.

After Jason comes back to life, and he's left Gotham he finds that familiar notebook in a safe-house he was sure Nightwing didn't know about with a post-it note on top reading.

I'm so glad you're back little wing

-DG

Tim: Dick and Alfred celebrate Tims birthday alone and Dick knows that Tim is struggling with who he is and his place in the family. Jason needed connection Tim needed purpose. Tim needed something to do to prove his value so on Tim's 13th birthday Dick teaches him the quadruple summersault. he teaches Tim the Full-Twisting Shaposhnikova his mother's favourite move on the bars and the moors. They spend all day practicing together until Tim can do a loose approximation of as many of his parent's signature moves as they can squeeze into one day. And every time Dick sees Tim for the next two months he asks for a spotter and they spend two odd hours practicing the moves. Tim never ends up incorporating the Flying Grayson's moves into his fighting style but he starts to follow Dicks habit of getting up high when he's stressed and working out all his frustration by practicing those moves over and over again until his body is pleasantly sore. Sometimes when Dick is on undercover missions, Tim will do one of the routines to help with the fact he cant reach his brother.

Damian: canonically Dick gave Damian a trapeze bar but that was long into his Robin tenure I believe it was after the Lazarus island debacle. So I think that by the. time Damians 11th birthdays rolls around, Dick and Damian have a pretty solid relationship and the first thing Dick would have given Damian was his father's unfinished sketchbook which contained the original designs for the robin costume. This book is Thick and its not like a modern sketchbook no, John Grayson found this leather bound monstrosity in Egypt and paid pennies for it. Its so dense that its filled with about 3 years of drawings and still has more the half of its pages a yellowed blank canvas. Damian, who is naturally talented at art and was encouraged by Dick to try and find non-vigilante methods of enjoyment has already taken up drawing months prior but this gets him to start practicing with fervour. He tries hard to mimic John Grayson's art style before eventually giving up at trying to create identical pieces and just incorporates various techniques the man used. For Dicks birthday that year he gifts him a portrait of his late parents but unlike the ones he's made for the manor, Dick's parents are in motion, with his John Grayson's grin stolen right off his sons face and Mary Grayson's boisterous laugh as she crashed into her husbands side could be heard in the famous cackle of her son.

now I wanted to do Cass or Steph or (maybe even Babs or Kori if I wanted to pivot from family to romance) but I genuinely the girl who has Mary Graysons wedding ring would

Donna Troy: Dick Gave it to her when they were still wonder girl and boy wonder. They were 14 and it was right after they had started the titans, back when it was a kids club more than a hero organisation. It was accompanied with a whispered confession of his identity, an identity the rest of their team wouldn't learn for another to 2 years. She wears it around her neck with a simple gold chain. She didn't take it off during her wedding or funeral, she was buried in it and came back with its barely there weight a comfort against base of her neck.

#nightwing #batman #jason todd #tim drake #robin #batfam #comics #damian wayne #dick grayson #donna troy #Dick and donna troy are my beloveds someone give me fic recs #dc comics #dc universe #dcu

47 notes · View notes

hestzhyen · 12 days ago

Text

Chapter 58 Welp Posting

Hello kind void. Short (for me) yap this time... it's mostly just pain this chapter, after all. So much pain.

Very rough TL of the editor's notes:

First page: 漆羽の命滅契約は一体…? [Uruha no meimetsu keiyaku ha ittai...?!, What in the world happened to Uruha's lifelong contract...!?] Last page: 信念のもと漆羽を殺めた座村を前に… [Shinen no moto Uruha wo ayameta Samura wo maeni..., Standing in front of Samura, who killed Uruha due to his conviction...] Google Translate or DeepL can probably do better than me on this one, so go ahead and copy/paste that text into one of those instead for a better idea. Just note that 漆羽 (Uruha) usually gets auto-translated to "Urushiba" and 座村 (Samura) to "Zamura".

*----------------------------------------------------------------------------*

Pregame Mini Meta Rant: If I hear a SINGLE complaint about how many panels were reused this chapter Imma get heated. Yeah, there's been a lot of copy-crop-paste stuff going on in the past two weeks. This chapter alone re-used Hakuri's exhausted seal pose four times. But the major scenes still hit hard as fuck and the new art is holding up. Let the author do what it takes to avoid burnout and health issues just as his series is getting the major promotion treatment, okay? Dude's had to do a lot of extra work recently with the cover and colour pages in addition to the usual volume redraws and accompanying filler sketches/doodles.

These chapters were probably being written and drawn about the same time as the extra materials. It's not like the author starts drawing on Monday and sends the chapter out by Friday so it can be published Sunday- they're finished weeks in advance before they're released. I recommend checking out a short manga called The Right Way to Make JUMP! by Takeshi Sakurai if the practical details of getting manga out to thousands of readers in both print & digital simultaneously every week seem interesting!

*----------------------------------------------------------------------------*

Uruha vs. Samura

I interrupt this ramble before it even begins to do a little celebratory dance. I got most of what I yapped about last chapter right for once! Yay! ヾ(⌐■_■)ノ♪ I won't have to recap the Samura motivation/mindset yap with the new information! (This will probably never happen again.)

Anyway...

Let's start with this because fuck it was so cool and sad.

I love how every character in this manga holds fast to their convictions, man. But I didn't expect Samura to be so cold about killing his former apprentice y'know?! Not even a hint of remorse from this guy. Between this and the subdued greeting Uruha gave him, the lack of warmth in their dialogue together... I wonder if they had a positive relationship. Uruha certainly respected Samura's skills but the contrast between how he thinks about Kunishige and the man who presumably taught him everything he knows about fighting is striking, isn't it? He was pretty unemotional about having to duel his master to the death despite being such an emotive guy. Yet now we'll probably never know... (sigh).

Here's something I missed on my first read: Samura didn't use Tobimune to face Uruha; he was just the quicker draw with a regular katana.

His sword is closer to being sheathed, while Uruha's sword is still farther out.

In case anyone still wants to believe that Uruha is alive or can come back somehow after this... more power to you. The Sojo copers can probably give you some tips if you need them. But there is one small smidgen of comfort to be had, if one wants to interpret it as such.

Not using Tobimune can be read as respecting Uruha's determination and facing him on equal footing. I know he unnecessarily double-tapped Uruha when he was laying on the ground- he didn't need to slash the guy again with Tobimune to make the kill. I get it, the Enchanted Blades are tools of death. Just let me have this. I need it.

Uruha deserved better. He deserve to live, dammit. I didn't get nearly enough of him. But what a way to go. Standing up for what you believe, your dead (boy)friend's last words telling you to live no matter what running through your head. Fighting for your life to honor his wish even though it's a completely lost cause... fuck what a tragic character. He was such a passionate guy despite the losses he suffered. Uruha, man... I really wanted to spend more time with him, but I guess all we'll get of him are flashbacks about him from other people or during scenes recounting what happened in the war.

The worst part of saying goodbye is that it felt like we had so much more to see and learn about him. His story's incomplete but it's over all the same. That's what hurts most when authors kill these characters- the sense of real loss because of all the loose ends. Anything we learn about him will be retroactive for context. No more growth, no more silly faces... damn you Samura...! Fuck this author makes good villains in a short span of time.

Whatever incident was covered up 18 years ago has to be incredibly awful to drive Samura to become an avenger for the truth. I'm talking "establishing a whole fucking international court system to process it for over a decade" levels of bad. Which it may well be, if this flashback from Sojo's PoV in chapter 8 remains unchanged when we revisit it for context:

Hello, probable war crimes.

Yeah I'm banking on that mystery kid being Magatsumi's current wielder. Whether he was a child soldier or picked up the sword by accident somehow, this might be the clue to The Incident that turned Samura against his allies. The point about how anyone can use the Enchanted Blades is made repeatedly during and after the Sojo arc- why not a child? Covering up a massacre like that would be in a lot of people's interests.

Unfounded spitball theories aside, now that Hakuri and Chihiro are both clued in that some real bad shit went down, we can expect to learn more about it. Hopefully sooner rather than later because I'll definitely be judging the shit outta Samura based on how awful it is. I'm very interested in his moral dilemma but I've got unreasonably high standards as to what kind of event could drive someone to do something so awful (in fiction, at least). IRL people are messy, but fiction demands justification. And the way this incident is being hyped up makes me believe it's different from the other horrors of war sinking in and slowly driving someone to resent everything they did for the cause. Whatever the Bearers and the Kamunabi covered up is going to cast them all -Kunishige included- in an extremely unflattering light.

Burnout

He just looks so cute being carried like that even though he's so exhausted and roughed up…

... Yeah. Poor Hakuri.

I won't take up as much space here as I want to yapping about him because most of it's just retreads of things I've been saying for weeks already. But man. Man.

This guy awoke to his powers, killed his dad and brothers, put an end to his family's cruelty, saved a bunch of lives at great risk to himself, passed out, and woke up to try and do this crazy mission with Chihiro all in just over 24 hours. He's so fried he fell asleep while being carried piggy-back and can't even move any more! But he's still kicking himself for not summoning Kumeyuri for Uruha when he had enough adrenaline to sort of stand up on his own. Never mind the brain haemorrhage- he's got lives to save. Ms. Makizumi's words about pushing himself too hard being dangerous just go in one ear and out the other. These people want him to care about himself for the mission and because he deserves it but he just refuses to take it to heart...

Then the person he promised to protect is killed in front of him right after he made it his life's mission to prevent exactly this sort of scenario.

Fuck.

Can't even turn this into a ship moment I'm so bent out of shape. Someone strip me of my fudanshi creds.

It looks like Hakuri did summon Chihiro in a panic after all- he couldn't even call out to Uruha so reaching for Chihiro instead was his first instinct. He just wasn't fast enough because his body and mind are on the brink of totally shutting down. If he's truly unable to use sorcery again after finally gaining his own strength at long last... oh, that will hurt so bad. I'm not ready for how hard Hakuri's going to be on himself when he eventually wakes up despite doing his very best.

Hakuri's gonna be out of commission for sure after this event.

I'm close to 100% positive he'll temporarily lose his powers now. If it comes to be, then Kagurabachi will have passed my bullshit "don't say they'll die if the consequences don't match up to the risk" test. Being paralyzed and powerless for a while is good enough to convince me that death really was a possible outcome. See, it's really that easy. Totally not unfair and arbitrary.

Regardless, there's a lot of suffering ahead for Chihiro and Hakuri. Not only did all of this shit go down the day right after the Rakuzaichi, but there's still whatever the blood test will reveal hanging out there... the political and practical price of this failure with the Kamunabi... processing the guilt of not being able to save a life... coming to terms with how much they don't know... so much has happened to them in a short 24-ish hours, huh? And neither of them have anything good to look forward to in the short-term.

I gotta wonder what Hakuri will do this arc if he's literally unable to move for a while. His PoV gave us the info that there was a specific incident that was covered up, but that doesn't mean he'll be involved in that plot line. But let's save that stress for another time- gotta see how badly he fucked himself up and how things shake out between Chihiro and Samura first.

Chihiro vs. Samura

(Ch. 50) A long-awaited reunion.

What will go down next week? I'm sure as hell not gonna try to guess. Could be anything from casual conversation to an actual skirmish. At least one thing will definitely not happen though.

Neither Chihiro nor Samura are dying here. Chihiro cannot die until the last fight in the series is finished, so that's out (boo joyless nerd take no fun booooooo). Samura's simply too strong to go down to an exhausted Chihiro and we still have to learn the history behind his motives. So he's gonna stick around for a bit longer to cause trouble. Wouldn't be surprised if he's the arc boss! Hiruhiko's got his own training arc ahead of him and all (and some arms to reattach), so he'll be more of a recurring villain than someone to defeat as a character growth moment for now. It's looking like Samura vs. Chihiro for the foreseeable future IMO.

If I can reveal a selfish hope, I want Samura facepalming Chihiro and feeling the scar to be the means of getting insight on how he feels about Chihiro's situation. Samura's probably the one who tipped off the Hishaku about Kunishige's location thanks to accidentally finding out when Momma Shiba took Chihiro to the local festival. Oh boy, if Chihiro learns that Samura was the one that sold him and his dad out... that would be some incredibly potent angst. His hero, a monster? Say it ain't so. Would have told you sooner if I could, Chihiro.

Hm, Kunishige and the Bearers who were entrusted with his vision...

(Chapter 1)

(Chapter 9)

(Chapter 58)

I feel confident in thinking that Samura is basically Bad End Chihiro now. He's been tormented by guilt for nearly two decades and has decided to do everything himself. He'll kill his former comrades and the Hishaku or go down swinging- and kill himself if he actually succeeds. He's on a doomed mission to scorch the earth and take out as much evil as he can. All scum go to hell! Including the guy who's so mired in grief that he does a lot of murder to cope. Those scars of his don't look like tear tracks in some shots for nothin'. (Wait, wasn't I talking about Chihiro for a bit there?)

Chihiro's well on his way to following Samura's path already... he's not the type to kill his comrades, but he's definitely got the "guilty sinning avenger" thing going on strong. So if Samura is Chihiro's "Bad End", what will he force Chihiro to realize? Every major foe reflects a part of Chihiro back at himself and forces him to answer difficult questions, after all. Sojo- forced him to accept that there are multiple ways to interpret and use his dad's legacy

Kyora- forced him to look at his own devotion to his dad's legacy and admit he doesn't know as much as he needs to

Hiruhiko (round 1)- forced him to admit that he thinks of himself as a monster for the lengths he's willing to go to

As for Samura, I think it'll be along the lines of "is it necessary or justifiable to sin and/or commit oneself hell for the sake of a cause?". Maybe "can I be redeemed at all?" (or if redemption is even necessary in the first place). Legitimately can't wait to see what goes down between them next week to get more clues! God I love this manga so much. I haven't been so consistently engaged week to week like this in ages.

...One last thought. This is probably looking too far ahead as an angst merchant and I was rightly rebuked for mentioning it. I should know better than to share the worthless depressing bullshit that goes on in my head. But these posts are supposed to just be some yaps into an ambivalent abyss so... sorry, kind internet void, but you get some of my depresso espresso.

"The least I can do is refrain from causing harm to others and take you Hishaku bastards to hell with me." - Chihiro (ch. 53)

With all the deliberate parallels drawn between Samura->Chihiro and Uruha->Hakuri, I wouldn't be surprised if our favourite protagonist/deuteragonist pair has the same exchange later down the line. Definitely not under similar circumstances! I can imagine scenarios where Chihiro is trying to kill Hakuri but they're so far removed from canon that they make absolutely zero sense.

But there could well be a time where Chihiro decides to leave because he really does need to bear this burden alone and Hakuri tries to call him out on the ridiculousness of that mindset. I think it would be a happier result for Chihiro and Hakuri compared to Samura and Uruha if only because Chihiro isn't as far gone as the blind traitor rat is. But yeah I'm just sticking that in my back pocket to see if it manifests in the future.

Time to write some hurt/comfort and hope canon eases up on the pain soon. It's either that or setting up a bingo sheet with all the angst scenarios I've got written down in my drafts and notes... I choose the one that I can create my own happy ending for. Until next time, dear void.

#kagurabachi #Imagine how awful it would be if Samura left and there were no “trustworthy” witnesses to prove that Chihiro & Hakuri didn't murder Uruha #I hate Samura as the traitor because it denies us a follow-up on the scent gag with Chihiro “reeking” of Hakuri #Definitely got my priorities in order #Listen I'm still trying to cope with Uruha's death so there's gonna be some yaoibachi bs in the tags for a bit I'm sorry

29 notes · View notes

glitchtricks94 · 1 year ago

Text

Demon Slayer Drabbles!: Upper Moons 5 and 6 with a Darling That Draws Them!

I KNOW I HAVE A SMUT IN THE WORKS BUT Y'ALL ARE GONNA BE ON HOLD. I got this idea while talking with @vampcubus, lovely person btw, love them lots, so here we are. Also Gyutaro brainrot is real. We got two men, just finished writing them, gonna post and pass out, please enjoy the fluff. Read beneath the cut, because it's late and my usual style is escaping me at the moment. Anyways, with that out of the way, kick back, relax and enjoy~ -Glitchtricks

Gyutaro

He doesn't understand why you were stealing so many glances at him while scribbling in that blank book he stole for you to use, the scratching of the pencil lead against the paper filling the room, drawing Gyutaro from his meditation to focus on your tinier frame. Amber eyes lock with yours and Gyutaro raises a brow seeing you blush brightly and shyly look back at what you're working on, the scraping sounds intensifying in the silence of the demon's den. He got to his feet, dragging himself to your side. You were awfully weird for a human, a lot unlike the traditional artists of the land, you worked more with lead and that book rather than paint. It was odd, but Gyutaro figured he wasn't in any position to judge, you did decide to be his after all. "Oi, what're you doin', human, eh?" The demon croaked out, trying to look over your shoulder to see just what you were scribbling, his carved eyes catching sight of what looked to be a tuft of hair before you yanked the book to your chest. "Hey, let me see that!" The demon growled. "I-It's embarrassing!" You whined, Gyutaro rolling his eyes at you. "Aren't we partners or lovers or somethin'? The fuck you hidin' that's so bad? Can't be worse than me." "Don't talk about yourself like that." "Just gimme the damn book." Gyutaro growled, snatching you sketchbook from you as you let out a yelp. The upper moon didn't care much for your protests as he started flicking through the pages, flowers, people, and buildings of all sorts filling the pages, until he noticed a pattern emerging, little sketches of himself beginning to appear in the buildings; imagery of his hunts with Daki, him grinning maniacally while clutching his flesh laden kama in his hands, and then full pages of just him making various expressions, the most frequent being of him smiling, little hearts doodled next to the carefully made portraits of him. Gyutaro was quick to fall silent, his heart clenching in his chest as he shoved the book back into your hands, not wanting to believe what he just saw. You meekly looked up at him, face dusted red. "Uhm...I-" "Why am I in there?" "Wha-" "You heard me." Gyutaro growled, baring his teeth threateningly. "Why the fuck am I in there?!" "Because I like to draw you..." You murmured, feeling disappointment bubble in your chest. "You look so incredible, and unique, a-and since we love each other I thought you would mind?" "I-I don't- I just- I can't- Ugh, fuckin' damn it..." Gyutaro let out a sigh, his shoulders sagging more than normal. "Do...do you want me to pose or some shit...?" You perked up, looking at your beloved with those sparkling eyes that never failed to make his heart pound. "Would you mind...?" You asked hopefully, you demonic darling shaking his head no and getting to his feet. "Just tell me what to do, 'kay?" Fuck, you loved this man.

Gyokko

Gyokko adored that you were like him, an artist, a visionary, and all while being a sublime beauty in and of yourself; a muse of unprecedented measures! And oh, how cutely you scrawl away in that little sketchbook he had gifted you, Gyokko practically buzzed in delight. You were perched in the center of his coiled, serpentine tail, his smooth fish like scales scraping your skin comfortingly as you worked away at another portrait of your eccentric lover. Gyokko adored watching you sketch, especially depictions of him, the demon letting out excited chitters seeing your beautiful pencilwork. He'd model for you, pose, be the muse you adored so much. He'd also offer surprisingly excellent critiques for you to use and incorporate into your work. He expected the same from you, of course! He was an artist as well, and since you were one like him, he held you opinions far higher than anyone else's. That took a little getting used to for you, as his...art was often rather grotesque and stomach churning, the screams of his victims nor the fact that they seemed stitched together helped the matter. You powered through though, making Gyokko the happiest demon alive with your praises and suggestions, always making use of them for inspiration. "Oh, my muse, you captured me so well in this!" Gyokko cooed to you, a blush creeping up to your cheeks seeing how pleased your beloved was. "Ah, I'm glad you think so, I've been trying to practice with more lighting techniques." You replied softly, the lead of your pencil scraping soothingly against the rough paper, Gyokko's hand soon enveloping your own to guide you. "Care to let me help, my sweet muse?" He asked softly, grinning wide when you nodded. Gyokko was always eager to indulge in his craft, and always hungry to indulge in yours. Fuckin' hell I can't quite characterize I need to watch Swordsmith Village.

#demon slayer x reader #demon slayer gyutaro #demon slayer gyokko #gyutaro x reader #gyokko x reader #upper moons #glitchwrites.notepad #demon slayer fanfic #demon slayer fluff

205 notes · View notes

maleyanderecafe · 1 year ago

Text

Love, Sam (Game)

Created by: Korean Linguistics Lab

Genre: Horror

This one is a bit of an old game so you might have seen youtubers and other streamers play it, but I haven't until now so that's why this post is here. It is a very good short game about a story of an obsessive yandere where things are not how they seem. I would recommend watching or playing this game before I go in and spoil the entire thing. As a horror game, does include things like jump scares and loud noises so do be warned.

The story is mostly focused inside a single apartment. The player reads through a diary of someone who is trying to let go of their crush, with papers of the diary written inside of them, all with the ending signature, Love, Sam. The entries recount their crush on another student named Brian, a jock at the high school. As the story goes on the player faces various hallucinations of things moving and destroying their house, coming through the windows, lights turning off suddenly all in relation with the various events happening in the diary. Eventually as the story goes on, we come to realize that the character "Sam" is not actually the one who is the player character but rather another named Kyle, who is deeply in love with Brian.

The story of Kyle and Sam are written in parallel with each other so that you mistakenly believe that they are both written by Sam. Kyle's diary starts with him recounting all of the things that he and B do together, going to various places in town and how much he loves him. Between those pages are pages from Sam's diary, about her moving to a new town and trying to make friends, being annoyed by Stacy and Kyle, the mean girl and the mean jock respectively before eventually meeting another jock named Brian. Brian takes a liking to Sam and shows her around town, eventually leading to Sam developing a strong crush on him. Kyle gets jealous and joins Stacy on getting Sam drunk during a party she's attending but Brian is able to save her from it, instead bringing her to a secluded hill area, something that Kyle eventually gets angry for as he believed that it was a special place for just him and Brian. Kyle, extremely bitter of Sam's appearance in their lives proceeds to team up with Stacy to frame Sam, by taking pictures of Brian in various locations to put in Sam's locker, drawing hearts everywhere and writing notes to make it seem like she's a huge stalker. He even has Stacy dredge up Sam's past about her dad who was a pedophile, something that Sam was desperately trying to run away from. At some point though, Stacy starts to see Kyle's obsessive behavior as too much ,even believing that he's doing this to be with Sam. In the end, she ends up telling Brian what Kyle did, leading to Kyle desperately trying to get him back. Full of rage, he blames everything on Sam, and forges a note to have them meet on the hill. Kyle ends up pushing Sam off of it (whether or not on purpose or not) and then burns all of the items she had on her to prevent the police from finding out it was a murder. We also find out that Brian ends up leaving town, much to Kyle's detriment.

There are three endings to the game. One where he refuses to throw away his diary, leading to him staying in the infinite guilt he has, forced to relieve the events of the game over and over again. One where he burns the notebook and proceeds to die in the fire and finally one where he burns the notebook but confesses to the police about the murder, never able to confess to Brian.

Love, Sam does a really good job of fooling the player into thinking that they are actually Sam with the way that the two different diaries parallel each other but there are some giveaways to the fact that they actually are two different people before the ultimate reveal. The easiest is likely the clothes and the general living space as it is (at least from what I can tell in media) a lot more stereotypical of a guy, with the clothes being more masculine. There's also the fact that the two diaries have a different writing styles, with Sam's notes always signing "Love, Sam" at the end along with the fact that she often writes in the third person, and Kyle's diary never mentioning his own name and writing in the first person. Even the fact that the pages are separate from Kyle's diary are a good indication that they aren't from the same writer. Finally, is the nickname that Kyle has for Brian, "B" which Sam never calls him. There are the small details you might find strange if you didn't know what the twist might have been. Even if you do know the twist though, I think it's really interesting seeing how everything does come to play- like what Sam's actual deal is and how the other characters are interacting with it all. The fact that the two different diaries also parallel each other is also very interesting though, as it shows that they actually are not as different as you might think they are, with various actions or events paralleling each other as well.

I'm not really used to playing a lot of horror based games but this one was very fun to play and it does honestly make me want to look more for these games (it's a nice change from visual novels, that's for sure). The way that the player has to mess around with the room while the story goes on really showcases how Kyle is feeling in these different situations, either with the various scares from Sam's death haunting him, to the various events of happiness when he goes to take pictures of Brian that end up used to frame Sam, though still set in the showcase of horror. It really heightens his obsessive feelings towards Brian and the other characters as it goes on. It's able to use the room that Kyle is in so that you're not always stuck reading, and that you feel more sucked into the game as you go on.

Kyle as a yandere is a character that is someone who is very self deprecating and worships Brian to a strong level. You can tell that it's part of the fact that he's gay (he literally has to hide and come out of the closet multiple times in the game) and the fact that the town seems to be very closed off to anything that's outsider, as exemplified with Sam's journey as she's moved in. To him, there's not really any way out- he's afraid that Brian will reject him and even if that doesn't turn out disastrously, Brian is still attempting to leave town, so Kyle himself will be stuck without anyone he really cares about. He gets extremely jealous when Brian brings Sam around the places that the two hang out (whether it's out of romantic feels or simply because Brian is a nice person is never really explicitly stated) which causes Kyle to get revenge on her. Kyle is just so scared of him finding out that he's basically trapped himself, which is pretty symbolic of the room that we never seem to be able to escape from. There isn't any way out for him, unless he either dies or reveals his guilt- and even in that ending, Kyle likely never sees Brian again much less tells him what his true feelings were. You do feel sympathetic for him as he unravels, eventually leading to the death of Sam, and even he himself seems to be trying to figure out if he can really let go or not. In terms of yandere actions, of course there's the obvious obsessiveness- pretty much his entire diary is about Brian and his feelings towards him, his envy which drives him to stalk and take pictures of Brian, write letters, sabotaging Sam by writing their initials all over school and of course at the end of the game, going to kill her, even if it was possibly by accident. As per usual, I always find games that are done in the yandere's point of view are incredibly interesting because I love seeing the spiral and thought process of the yandere- why they do the things they do, how they justify it, and the kind of obsessive love that they have for their lover. It's always really nice to be able to see those kinds of games.

Overall, I really enjoyed playing this game. As I said for me, it was a nice break from visual novels and the way that the story played out was very engaging and interesting. I hope I get to play different games like this. If you are interested, please try the game out, it is very good.

#Love Sam #male yandere #yandere #yandere boy #recommendations #game #completed

123 notes · View notes

thescribblings · 9 months ago

Text

Long post ahead! I type a lot .^.

Here's a lil something I've spent some time on! I'm definitely nearing my goal of being able to draw comics! .^.

However, keep in mind that I'm very much an amateur artist, so there will be imperfections😅.

Here, I've drawn a lot of new (and scary) poses, expressions, perspectives, and clothes! I never draw clothes! I've also never even tried to draw them in the same clothes from different perspectives like this before. I also mainly draw without references

And i know i know, it's always better with references but i always just get distracted while looking for a good reference and most of the time i give up before i even find one and just draw it without anyways, lol

Rant over now! Promise

Here's a page I've been working on non-stop for literal days. It was a lot of fun! And it helped me try out a new art style :]

Individual pictures and context under the cut! i will be referring to future leo as nardo or leonardo, and present leo as, well, leo!

Here we have the doodle that started it all! I did use a cat as a reference, and i personally found that hilarious

Anyways, leonardo is being held like the cat that he is. Meanwhile, leo is held next to him vibing, not a thought behind those eyes

✨️co-existing✨️(with iced coffee)

They decided to have a day of leo to leo Bonding and got iced coffee for the occasion, probably spending some time clothes shopping and going equally crazy over a random article of clothing with a unicorn on it

This one has a bit more story behind it, they went on a day outing with the fam, nardo had grabbed a map of the city and they decided to stray from the group to explore, and they quickly got lost.

Leonardo helped leo get on his shoulders to see if there were any familiar landmarks around, and while leo enjoyed being roughly 12 feet tall, nardo texted the others asking where they were and looked around the area.

(Shirts lovingly made by mikey)

Entirely lost, leonardo decided to ask a pair of yokai ladies for directions. They turned out to be extremely helpful, one of them pointing out where on the map they were and where the landmark raph had sent them is.

Meanwhile, some backstory here: ever since leonardo had stopped staying in the lair 24/7 and actually started coming with when the others went out, leo had become an expert at keeping flirtatious yokai of all shapes sizes and genders away from his eldest brother

Leo noticed one of the yokai women was trying to make a move on him and stepped between her and nardo, making for a hilarious scene when he told her to stay away from his clearly adult brother

Leonardo is entirely oblivious as to the amount of yokai that find him attractive, which is exactly how leo wants it to be, for some reason

It's even funnier with the fact that leonardo is, in fact, very gay.

They thanked the yokai (leo doing that gesture where you point at your eyes then at the person as an unspoken "i got my eyes on you" behind nardo's back) then stepped away from the crowd and planned when and where everyone would meet up (they quickly decided on a food spot that accommodated everyones needs, and they had often gone there for lunch or early dinner in the past)

While they waited, the two decided to browse some stores, window shop etc.

Leonardo bought himself a backpack and proceeded to purchase knickknacks, snacks, and gifts for the fam, including some that he snuck in there for leo without the teen noticing (he was the greatest ninja the world had ever seen, once, after all)

While nardo walked, leo was chatting away happily on his shoulders, the elders tail wagging along as well, especially when leo told a pun or two, once a leo, always a leo. (Leonardo chipped in with some puns as well)

(leonardo personally believes his tail is pretty damn useless since it's so short. He has stated, "The only thing it's good for is waggin' " in the past. However, the rest of the fam think that's a perfectly adequate reason to have a tail)

They spent the entire day out having fun and walked around with just a handfull of breaks, so i think it's safe to say they'd be pretty drained by the time they got home

On another note, nardo being a war veteran and all that, I'm not 100% sure how that works but i like to imagine he'd get rather overwhelmed by all the crowds, different smells and loud noises (in other words overstimulation) so i think he'd be WAY more drained than everyone else by the end of the day (save for maybe mikey, i bet he'd be pretty drained too)

Either way, nardo basically just flopped onto the nearest plush surface and went out like a light while everyone else went to bed like regular people. This is a common occurrence after long, exhausting days

But sometimes...

Sometimes he dents the floor

(Bonus doodles)

I don't even know why this came to be, but it did

Thank you for reading!

Have nice day

#rottmnt #save rottmnt #art #third season #my art #rottmnt future leo #rottmnt fanart #sffl(wg)#future leo #amateur artist #rottmnt leo #rottmnt leonardo

45 notes · View notes

wingsoverlagos · 8 months ago

Text

The Evolving Story of Kim Bennett, Pt. 1: Before Lewisohn

0. Mark Lewisohn’s Star Witness 1. An Introduction and Primer 2. The Evolving Story of Kim Bennett, Pt. 1: Before Lewisohn >You Are Here< 3. The Classic™ Contract Story, and Why Lewisohn Distrusts It 4. The Evolving Story of Kim Bennett, Pt. 2: Tune In 5. Lewisohn’s Other Sources 6. Lewisohn’s Portrayal of Kim Bennett & George Martin

After two posts and as many months of build-up, it’s finally time to look at Kim Bennett’s presence in Beatles history before Mark Lewisohn’s Tune In. As a refresher, Kim Bennett was a music plugger involved in a brief chapter of the Beatles' story, who Lewisohn draws on as a crucial witness to ~debunk the myth~ of how the Beatles’ first landed their recording contract with Parlophone. I’ve previously shown an example of Kim Bennett’s presence in Beatledom here, in an issue of Beatles Book Monthly, just a few pages before the name of a young Mark Lewisohn. I’ve also discussed some of the ways Lewisohn slants a story when he’s set on overturning a classic narrative – you can find that here.

Section 1: Mark Lewisohn on Kim Bennett

Part of the appeal of Mark Lewisohn’s Beatles-signing scoop is Kim Bennett’s oft-stated absence from the Beatles narrative. Lewisohn found and memorialized a man who had been marginalized from the Beatles’ story, a hero integral to their success who was erased from history due to his inconvenience to the legacy of a certain acclaimed producer. Not only has Lewisohn turned a classic narrative upside down, he’s righted the wrong done to Kim Bennett by the powers that be--or so he would have us believe. The importance of Bennett’s testimony and his exclusivity to Tune In is a crucial element of Lewisohn’s myth-building around himself and his work. Let’s take a look at a few examples:

In a 2014 interview with Dierdre Kelly, Lewisohn calls his revised version of the Beatles’ recording contract “probably one of the biggest things in the book.” As for how he came to that version of events, Lewisohn says, “It all fell into place when I met a man called Kim Bennett…without whose incredibly tenacious efforts—and he was never named in any book—we would never have heard of the Beatles. He literally was the story’s hero and he tells us a very different story.” [Emphasis mine]

From Allan Kozinn’s 2013 interview with Lewisohn, we get the following exchange:

Kozinn describes Bennett as “someone who had never been interviewed,” and Lewisohn not only doesn’t correct him, he furthers that idea by saying Bennett “had been trying for years to get people to listen to his story…and nobody wanted to know.”

As a final example, we’ll return to the episode of Nothing Is Real (season 7, ep. 7) that I excerpted in my first post on Bennett.

A partial transcript [emphasis mine]:

“I approached him, and he was so happy that I got in touch with him because he knew the true story of how the Beatles came to be signed to EMI and he knew that it was his efforts that had made the difference, and without him, it wouldn’t have happened. The Beatles possibly may never have happened without Kim Bennett, and he’d been trying to tell people for years, and people didn’t want to know.”

“He was a very frustrated man because no one had ever paid him the attention that he felt was his due.”

“…and if I hadn’t of got to him when we did, we wouldn’t know him, and we would always have that bizarre gap of how they got signed by someone who never met them.”

Again and again, Lewisohn tells us that Kim Bennett had been trying desperately for years to gain recognition for his action, and everyone ignored him--everyone but Mark Lewisohn. This is decidedly untrue. He has been mentioned in multiple Beatles publications by major names in Beatles history, which you can find in Section 3. But first!

Section 2: Biographical & Background Info

Here he is, the man of the hour, Kim Bennett - and I bet you thought that was the Barry Sisters! On the left, we see Kim Bennett's floating head from his days as a singer, and on the right, we see him fraternizing with Russ Conway circa 1967 - Bennett is in profile on the right. I've dug up some biographical information on the enigmatic Kim Bennett, and I wanted to share it here along with a little context about music publishing to make the accounts shared in the next section make mroe sense. If you're confident in your early-1960s music industry knowledge and know who Kim Bennett and Sid Colman are, scroll right along to Section 3.

I've cited Lewisohn a few times in this section when other sources weren't available. Every time I cite him, I put a quarter in the "Risky Citations" jar - once I've filled it a few hundred times, I'll take it to CoinStar and use the money to buy a copy of Fifty Years Adrift.

The Parlophone Contract Story is a story with many bit parts, most of whom won't appear until my next post--there will even be a figure! I'll assume you know the Beatles, Brian Epstein, and George Martin, the man who would become the Beatles' main producer. In the parlance of the times, George Martin was the A&R man (artistes and repertoire) of EMI's Parlophone label. As the A&R man at Parlophone, George M. has the head of the label, with duties including scouting artists, matching his stable of artists with songs, and overseeing the recording process.

Alongside record labels like Parlophone, Columbia, and HMV, EMI had other companies under its corporate umbrella. One of these companies was the music publisher, Ardmore & Beechwood (A&B).

Music publishers manage song copyrights; they make money by marketing and disseminating those songs. In the early 20th century, the big moneymaker for music publishers was sheet music sales. By the 1950s and 60s a sea change was in progress as record sales grew and eventually eclipsed the sale of sheet music. Just as the medium through which songs were sold changed, so did the way in which music publishers sold those songs: originally, song pluggers from publishing companies would pitch their songs to orchestras, brass bands, and dance halls, seeking out groups who performed live music, so that their audiences would go out and buy sheet music of the songs they’d heard (Southall & Perry 2006, p.ix-xii). With the rise of records, song pluggers would pitch their songs directly to A&R men; they would visit the A&R men in their office and sing the songs they had on offer, accompanying themselves on the piano while they did (Martin & Hornsby 1979, p.48). They could then market those records to sell their songs. If a song was recorded by multiple artists, as was often the case, the song publisher benefited regardless of which version of a song played. This set their interests slightly apart from record producers, who only benefited if their version of a song sold.

Let's illustrate with a Lennon-McCartney original: the music publisher for Lennon-McCartney's music, Northern Songs, would profit from both the Rolling Stones version of 'I Wanna Be Your Man' and the Beatles version, but the record companies would only benefit from the version they released - the Stones version meant money in Decca's pocket, while the Beatles version benefited EMI.

(I'm sure their are some additional business/contract complexities that come into play, but I believe the general principle is correct)

EMI Music Publishing would one day be a Big Fucking Deal, but when the Beatles joined in 1962, it didn't exist yet. Publishing was a minor interest for the company, and they had only a small publishing presence in the form of A&B, which opened in 1958 (Martland 1997, p.262). A&B was set up to handle the publishing interests of two American companies, Ardmore Music Corp. and Beechwood Music Corp., both of which were owned by Capitol Records (Cash Box 1958 Jul 26, p.34). Capitol Records had been purchased by EMI in 1955 (Southall 2009, p.25), and A&B was set up a few years later to handle their catalogue in the U.K., while also providing and option to publish through EMI for any interested songwriters. This was done at the behest of EMI Chairman Sir Joseph Lockwood (Southall 2006, p.9-10).

From its genesis, veteran music publisher Sid Colman (1905-65) served as general manager of Ardmore & Beechwood (Cash Box 1958 Jul 26, p.34). He would serve in this role until his untimely death in April 1965 (Cash Box 1965 Apr 24, p.47). You will encounter multiple spellings of his name, but Lewisohn assures us that Sid Colman (rather than Syd Coleman) is correct (2013, p.856). Kim Bennett served as his assistant and music plugger.

Born Thomas Whippey (1931-2004) (Lewisohn 2013), he became a Decca recording artist in 1954 under the name Kim Bennett. He recorded six singles, none of which charted. I haven’t found any of his work online, but for an idea of the type of music he released, here are other versions of two songs he put out: ‘Softly, Softly’ by Ruby Murray and ‘The Kentuckian Song’ by Eddy Arnold. He maintained a day job as an office worker until 1955, then briefly worked as a musician full time. He worked a season at Butlin’s (not the same location as Ringo), played some clubs, and toured with the Ambrose orchestra, but his career as a singer had petered out by late 1956. As Don Wicks puts it “[h]e was a victim of the growing rock and roll industry no longer interested in a soft pleasant vocal style.” (Wicks 1996 pt.1)

He resumed work at a toy warehouse, (Wicks 1996 pt.1) but later took a job in music publishing with B. Feldman & Co. Ltd. (Cash Box 1967 Jul 22 p.65). He began work with Ardmore & Beechwood no sooner than August 1958. He was still with Ardmore & Beechwood as of June 1965 (Cash Box 1965 Jun 5 p.55). By July 1967, he had moved to South Africa, where he ran a newly launched publishing company, Francis Day (S.A.) (Pty), which was established to manage copyrights of B. Feldman & Co. Ltd., Francis Day & Hunter, and Robbins (Cash Box 1967 Jul 22 p.65).

According to Lewisohn, Bennett spent his later years in Shropshire in “quite humble circumstances (Nothing Is Real, Season 7 Ep. 7, 29:30). He was interviewed by Lewisohn on July 27-28, 2003 (Lewisohn 2013 p.869). He died in 2004.

While biographical information on Bennett between 1967 and 2003 is slim (perhaps nonexistent), his role in the Beatles story received several mentions in print in those intervening decades.

Section 3: Kim Bennett in Beatles History

As I highlighted in my first post in this series, Kim Bennett was quoted in Beatles Book Monthly Issue 70, but that isn't his earliest appearance in the Beatles lore - he first appears in an earlier issue of BBM, issue 13, published in Augst 1964, p.22-3. He's mentioned by BBC DJ Ted King in relation to his work plugging 'Love Me Do'.

To summarize: Kim Bennett went to lunch with Ted King and pitched “Love Me Do” to him. King wasn’t fond of the record, but Bennett’s enthusiasm convinced King to play it on “Twelve O’Clock Spin.”

Our next Bennett sighting (and the first to use Bennett as a source) is the aforementioned BBM Issue 70, p.8, published May 1969.

This is part of a piece titled “When did you Switch On?” whose author is unattributed. Whoever they are spoke to Kim Bennett directly. Here’s what we can gather from this piece:

Kim Bennett was Sid Colman’s assistant

Colman “had quite a job to persuade George Martin to see the Beatles”

Bennett, presumably, was in the room when Colman “first heard the Beatles’ tapes”, since Bennett is able to relate what Sid Colman said on the matter

Colman decided to call Martin because he did not have a similar-sounding pop group, while the other EMI A&R men did

Bennett next crops up in several of Bill Harry's books, starting in 1982. Bill Harry is the founder of Mersey Beat and was an art school chum of John and Stu's; he's written a number of reference books about the Beatles, including The Beatles Encyclopedia, The John Lennon Encyclopedia, and The Book of Beatle Lists, among many others. Four of his books mention Bennett. The information in these books seems to be pulled from the two BBM articles highlighted above - with the possible exception of the last one. The books where Bennett is mentioned include:

The Beatles Who’s Who (1982): An encyclopedia of Beatle people. Bennett does not get his own entry, but he is mentioned in the entry on Sid Colman (p.84). Bennett is said to be Colman’s assistant, and his involvement in “Love Me Do” promotions is noted without detail.

The Ultimate Beatles Encyclopedia (1992): Bennett now gets his own entry (p.84-5). Again, this appears to draw from the Beatles Book articles. More detail is included here than in The Beatles Who’s Who. Bennett is mentioned again in Sid Colman’s entry (p.168). There’s a reference to Colman and Bennett liking the demos for “Love of the Loved” and “Hello Little Girl”, which is not mentioned in BBM above. However, these songs were referenced in relation to Sid Colman in The Beatles Who’s Who, so I think Bennett is just lumped in with Colman here.

Also in the Colman entry, Harry points out two conflicting accounts of the promotion of “Love Me Do.” George Martin wrote in his memoir that Ardmore & Beechwood did “virtually nothing” to promote the song, but Ted King, in BBM Issue 13, said it was Kim Bennett who got him to play the song on “Twelve O’Clock Spin.” This apparent contradiction will be discussed in detail when we deal with Tune In’s version of events, but for now, I’ll say this: it can be true that Kim Bennett did his best to promote 'Love Me Do' and acheived limited success while still falling short of the expectations of George Martin (and, crucially, Brian Epstein).

The Encyclopedia of Beatles People (1997): Bennett has a brief entry (p.45) and is mentioned in Sid Colman’s entry (p.92-93.) The Sid Colman entry includes this quote from Sir Joseph Lockwood about the Beatles’ publishing rights “I don’t blame Sid Coleman [sic], because he published the first two songs without a contract. He wasn’t getting any support from either the record producers or the solicitors.” This quote appears in Ray Coleman’s The Man Who Made The Beatles (1989), seemingly from an interview conducted by Coleman while researching that book.

The Ultimate Beatles Encyclopedia (Revised & Updated, 2001): The entry for Kim Bennett includes the entirety of the entry in the 1992 version with an additional two paragraphs (p.135-6). These paragraphs are emotionally charged and add information not available in the two articles from BBM. After detailing Bennett's involvement in 'Love Me Do' promo, Bill Harry writes,

“It’s ironic that the two people who were so enthusiastic about the Beatles and helped to get them with EMI in the first place were to have George Martin shut the door in their face by suggesting to Brian Epstein that he see Dick James about being their publisher. For one thing, it was Coleman [sic] who, after talking to Brian realized that the only A&R man at EMI who hadn’t rejected the Beatles was George Martin. Apparently, Coleman had a hard job persuading Martin to see Epstein. Even then, Martin wasn’t initially impressed by their sound. He only agreed to a test session at EMI’s No. 3 studio four weeks later, then another three months elapsed before the release of their first single. EMI and Martin weren’t even confident enough to give the Beatles a plug rating. Artists such as Cliff Richard received an ‘A’ plug on EMI’s Radio Luxembourg shows. The lowest was ‘B2’. The Beatles weren’t even given this low plug, EMI gave ‘Love Me Do’ a nil rating. “So Bennett had a hard job pushing the record without EMI using their clout. As a result, Epstein refused Ardmore & Beechwood the future Beatles publishing. Had he done so, the Beatles might have retained the rights to their own songs, and Coleman might have received some acknowledgment for having placed the Beatles into his hands in the first place.”

It’s hard to say whether or not additional information from Kim Bennett made it into this article. Much of this could be pulled from other sources and presented through a negative lens stemming from Dick James’ involvement in the Northern Songs debacle. There are, however, two elements here that are consistent with Bennett’s later accounts that might suggest that he spoke with Bill Harry: (1) the phrasing that George Martin “shut the door” in the face of A&B, rather than Brian Epstein actively seeking out a different publisher and going to George for advice, and (2) the blame placed on George Martin for the Beatles low plug rating. Both new elements, and both inconsistent with certain other versions of events.

In Philip Norman's revised Shout! (2003), there is unambiguous evidence of Kim Bennett's participation.

In the original 1981 release, Sid Colman and A&B are mentioned, but not Bennett; in the revised edition, not only is Kim Bennett present, but the information surrounding him is clearly more than the familiar, regurgitated tale found in Beatles Book Monthly.

Norman doesn’t give citations, so I can’t say conclusively how he got this new information. There may be an interview with Kim Bennett published somewhere that I haven’t come across, though I’m inclined to believe either Norman or one of his research assistants spoke to Kim Bennett directly. The phrase “According to Bennett” appears a few times in Shout! (2003), which reads as if the information is coming directly from the horse’s mouth, so to speak.

Since the revised edition was published in the same year as Lewisohn’s interview with Kim Bennett, I considered that Lewisohn might have shared his information with Norman, and Norman may have rushed an edit. I looked for the exact publication date for the revised edition of Shout!—it was weirdly hard to find—and that put to bed any ideas of Norman cribbing off of Lewisohn’s notes: Pan Macmillan Australia gives the release date as January 9, 2003, several months before Lewisohn interviewed Bennett.

The Contract Story, as presented in the revised Shout! starts in the usual way: Brian gets an acetate made from the Beatles’ demo tape, the technician likes it and puts Brian in touch with Sid Colman, who works for A&B upstairs. Colman is interested in publishing the original Lennon-McCartney numbers. Then Kim Bennett enters the picture (Norman 2003, p.164-5):

Bennett likes the disc, too, and suggests they record the Beatles independently in the for-hire studio below their Oxford Street office. Colman takes Bennett’s idea to Len Wood, managing director at EMI, but it goes against protocol, and Wood won’t allow it. Only then does Colman put Brian in touch with George Martin. Colman and Brian have a “gentlemen’s agreement” that A&B will get the Lennon-McCartney publishing rights if they get a contract with George M.

It’s a short passage, but there are already a few problems here. First, the timeline doesn’t make sense. Most early accounts have Brian’s meeting with George M. occurring the day after Sid Colman hears the tapes (see A Cellarful of Noise, The Beatles (1968), and All You Need Is Ears). The largest gap is given by Lewisohn’s Chronicle (p.53-55), in which Epstein is said to have met Colman “around February 8” (a Thursday), with the Epstein-Martin meeting occurring on Tuesday, February 13. The Epstein-Martin meeting date seems to be pulled from George Martin’s date book (he has a meeting with a “Bernard Epstein” on that date), but I’m unsure what brought Lewisohn to the February 8 conclusion. Based on other information in the Chronicle, my best guess is either a meeting between Colman and Martin on February 9th, or a letter sent to Decca by Epstein on February 10th stating he had secured a recording contract. Whether or not he had met with Colman, Epstein certainly hadn’t secured a recording contract on that date – it was purely bluster, a kiss-off to Decca.

Regardless, even if Epstein met Colman on February 8th rather than February 12th, that’s a narrow window of time for Bennett’s story to occur. Rather than trying to place the group with an A&R man at EMI, Colman does nothing until his assistant suggests they record the Beatles themselves. This is unorthodox. A large part of the job of music publishers, as I’ve said above, is to pitch songs to A&R men to get them recorded. In this case, they’d be pitching a group along with the songs, but it seems strange that they wouldn’t try to work their contacts at all before making the jump to DIY. Still, let’s assume that happens. Colman takes the idea to Len Wood. Len Wood’s office at the time was probably at EMI House in Manchester Square, which isn’t far from A&B’s Oxford Street location, so assuming Len Wood had an open schedule, and Colman felt a high enough degree of urgency to immediately take Bennett’s idea to the managing director, I suppose it’s possible that Colman took Bennett’s idea to Wood, was immediately shut down, and then called Epstein back in to set up a meeting with George Martin if we assume Epstein’s first meeting with Colman happened on the 8th rather than the 11th. Still, it seems odd to me that these events wouldn’t turn up in Epstein’s account – getting shut down by the managing director of EMI Records is sort of a big deal, and would add to the drama of the everyone-rejected-them-but-George-Martin-story.

The other big issue here is that this version of events contradicts Bennett’s account from 1969. Rather than simply overhearing Colman’s conversation with Epstein and subsequent persuasion of George Martin, Bennett now has a more active, central role. He’s not driving the story, but he now gives a version of events in which he’s one of the Beatles’ earliest champions. I don’t think it’s unfair to consider that Bennett’s increased involvement in the story might indicate an interest in being more than a footnote in Beatles’ history.

Bennett is mentioned again during the promotions of ‘Love Me Do’ (p.182-3):

Bennett secures some airtime on Two-Way Family Favourites by “repeatedly nagging a radio producer friend.” This is not the same radio show mentioned in Beatles Book Monthly Issue 13 (above), but it’s in keeping with Bennett’s role as a plugger—and that’s where Bennett’s involvement ends in Shout! (2003). There’s one more tantalizing mention of Brian’s “gentlemen’s agreement” with Colman, which he breaks due to his dissatisfaction with A&B, turning to George Martin for publishing advice.

There you have it: Kim Bennett’s evolving story pre-Tune In. It starts as a bit of extra detail that fits inside the greater framework of the Beatles’ Contract Saga, and, after thirty years, morphs into something that contradicts Bennett’s earlier version and the many other accounts of the same events. Things will get even stickier once we get to Tune In. But first...

Section 4: Why Does It Matter?

I can think of three explanations for why Lewisohn pitched Bennett as an unheard witness when he had, in fact, gone on the record before, and none of these explanations helps the credibility of the story.

Explanation 1: Neither Lewisohn nor Bennett knew about Bennett’s previous statements on the matter. This would be extremely damning for Bennett’s reliability, as it would mean he had forgotten both his 1960s statement to Beatles Book Monthly (plausible) as well as the interview that led to the information included in Shout! (concerning). This scenario also requires Lewisohn to be unaware of the above Bennett appearances, which doesn’t reflect well on his abilities as a researcher. If you find someone who you think has never been on record, you might want to at least look him up in the glossary of books by major Beatle authors.

Explanation 2: Bennett knew; Lewisohn didn’t. Perhaps Kim Bennett either neglected to inform Lewisohn of his past interviews, or outright lied to him on the matter. Lewisohn says that Bennett is “known for a dogged persistency” (Lewisohn 2013, p.571), has said that Bennett “just picks something up and he will not let it go,” (Let It Roll 2020, ~25:50), that he is “very insistent about things” and by the time Lewisohn interviewed him, “was a very frustrated man because no one had ever paid him the attention that he felt was his due.” (Nothing Is Real S7Ep7) Could this tenacity and feeling of entitlement to a part of the Beatles’ legacy have led Bennett to present himself as a bigger scoop than he really was? Might he have sold Lewisohn a tale of exclusivity and, perhaps, a version of the Contract Story more salacious and headline-grabbing than the truth?

Again, this explanation also hinges on the idea that Lewisohn was in the dark about Bennett’s prior interview(s), which is a huge oversight, but not as damning as explanation 3.

Explanation 3: Lewisohn knew and lied. Whether Bennett told Lewisohn outright that he had been interviewed in the past or if Lewisohn came upon that information in his research, Lewisohn chose to portray his interview with Bennett as exclusive. Perhaps this was purely to make his “scoop” seem juicier. Perhaps he was reluctant to give Philip Norman credit for finding Bennett first – there seems to be no love lost between Lewisohn and his former employer. Or perhaps Lewisohn knew that Bennett’s prior accounts made the story told in Tune In less credible. The early anecdote related in BBM already conflicted with the revised version in Shout! – if Bennett’s account, as related in Tune In, presented further inconsistencies, it would undermine Lewisohn’s major finding.

I’ll close with a segment from one of the better Lewisohn interviews I’ve heard. It’s from Ken Michaels’ radio show ‘Every Little Thing’, conducted in ~2013, and it’s one of the rare instances where an interviewer gives Lewisohn any pushback or asks follow-up questions regarding some of his more explosive claims. It’s an uncomfortable listen – Ken Michaels even appeared in the comments of this YouTube channel to counter claims that he has beef with Lewisohn– but satisfying to hear some meaningful questions when so many people are content to simply deify Lewisohn. Here's the relevant exchange:

youtube

KM: Aren’t there also problems with certain people that you’ve interviewed that have played some part in Beatle history that want to really elevate their status?

ML: Oh yeah, oh yeah, and it’s up to authors to ensure that they don’t get what they want. And there are unfortunately too many authors who just very happily take the stuff they’re given without challenging it. You’ve got to challenge all these things. And unless something completely fits into the framework of the story, you can’t use it.

Next time, on Days of Our Lies: the Classic Version of the Contract Story, and why Mark Lewisohn is so intent on debunking it. After that, we’ll finally look at the Contract Story as portrayed in Tune In.

Sources:

Cockcroft S, Carty J. 2023 Feb 14 [conducted 2023 Jan]. Nothing Is Real – Season 7 Episode 7 – Mark Lewisohn Returns [podcast, season 7, episode 7]. Nothing Is Real. 1:17:15. Available from: https://open.spotify.com/episode/5mtbNIreAY0Car6VASuZGV?si=b1e322e001a347e3

Coleman R. 1989. The Man Who Made the Beatles: An Intimate Biography of Brian Epstein. New York (NY): McGraw-Hill Publishing Company. 400p. Accessed online 2024 Mar 19. Available from: https://archive.org/details/manwhomadebeatle00cole/mode/2up

Kelly D. 2014 Jul 30. Setting the Record Straight: Interview with Beatles biographer Mark Lewisohn. Critics at Large. Accessed 2024 Mar 4. Available online: https://www.criticsatlarge.ca/2014/07/setting-record-straight-interview-with.html

Kozinn A. 2013 Dec 27. Tune In, and Turn On the Reading Light. ArtsBeat: New York Times Blog [accessed 2024 Feb 6]. Available from: https://archive.nytimes.com/artsbeat.blogs.nytimes.com/2013/12/27/tune-in-and-turn-on-the-reading-light/?_r=0

Lewisohn M. 1992. The Complete Beatles Chronicle. New York(NY): Barnes & Noble Books. 365p. Accessed online 2024 Mar 14. Available from: https://archive.org/details/completebeatlesc0000lewi/mode/2up

Lewisohn M. 2013. 1st U.S. Edition. The Beatles: All These Years Vol. 1: Tune In. New York (NY): Crown Archetype. 932p.

Lichtman I [editor]. 1965 Apr 24. Great Britain. Cash Box XXVI(40); International Section p.45. Accessed online 2024 Mar 18. Available from: https://archive.org/details/cashbox26unse_31/page/44/mode/2up

Lichtman I [editor]. 1965 Jun 5. Great Britain. Cash Box Vol.XXVI(46); International Section p.55. Accessed online 2024 Mar 13. Available from: https://archive.org/details/cashbox26unse_37/mode/2up

Lichtman I [editor]. 1965 Jul 24. Great Britain. Cash Box Vol. XXVI(53); International Section p.53. Accessed online 2024 Mar 13. Available from: https://archive.org/details/cashbox27unse/mode/2up

Lichtman I [editor]. 1967 Jul 22. Overlooking South Africa. Cash Box Vol.XXVIII(52); International Section p.65. Accessed online 2024 Mar 13. Available from: https://archive.org/details/cashbox28unse_50/mode/2up

Martin G, Hornsby J. 1979. All You Need is Ears. New York (NY): St. Martin’s Griffin. 293p.

Martland P. 1997. Since Records Began: EMI: The first 100 years. London: B.T. Batsford Ltd. 359p. Accessed online 2024 Mar 17. Available from: https://archive.org/details/sincerecordsbega0000mart/mode/2up

Michaels K. 2013. Mark Lewisohn interview [radio broadcast episode]. The Beatles – Every Little Thing. Originally aired on XM Radio. 1:53:18. Available from: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CjAUtngSoKc

Parnes S [editor]. 1958 Jul 26. Ardmore & Beechwood Open London Office. Cash Box Vol. XIX(45); p.34. Accessed online 2024 Mar 18. Available from: https://archive.org/details/cashbox19unse_43/page/34/mode/2up

Southall B, Perry R. 2006. Northern Songs: The True Story of The Beatles Song Publishing Empire. London: Omnibus Press. 218p. Accessed online 2024 Mar 13. Available from: https://archive.org/details/northernsongstru0000sout/mode/2up

*Wicks D. 1998. Updated 2012. The Ballad Years: From the Bombs to the Beatles: a Directory and Discography of British Popular Music-makers from 1945-1960. Accessed online 2024 Mar. Available from: https://archive.org/details/theballadyears/Book%20Contents/

Wilcox N. 2020 Apr 27. How The Beatles Got Signed [podcast, season 7]. Let It Roll. 57:21. Available from: https://dcs.megaphone.fm/PAN2878353172.mp3?key=5204cb23c38410bae94e208461239e2d&request_event_id=e800ecea-9c5e-40f2-90e3-dad820306501

Images from The Ballad Years and Cash Box 1967 Jul 22

*The Ballad Years by Don Wicks was originally published circa 1998 (by a company called In Tune International, of all things!) There is some great contextual info included at the Internet Archive link; to condense it here, after the original print run of the book, Don Wick continued to update the book, primarily to reflect the death of artists. He distributed these via Microsoft Word Document, and the 2012 version of these documents was uploaded to the Internet Archive. I believe that is the reason for “The Barry Sisters” being plastered across Kim Bennett’s face – the pages including artists’ pictures have very wonky formatting.

#mark lewisohn #the beatles #tune in #kim bennett #sid colman #ardmore & beechwood #it's TOO LONG but what can ya do #bless you if you read this whole thing

36 notes · View notes

someverygaymoth · 10 months ago

Text

*°•MASTER POST•°*

Welcome to The Moth Den; Asks are open!

This blog is the home of KD!AU, DFT!AU, The Retriver Institute, The Horrors in the Wilde, CFK!AU, Skyfall AU, Bugged!Cross(Bug), and plenty of other AUs. Also check out @mofts-evil-reblogs for my evil reblogs!

(check out my AU details list here)

✨We're Proship✨ Well, what does that mean? No one deserves harassment over writing/drawing taboo topics in a completely fictional fandom with completely fictional characters!

✨ We're comship✨ Well what does that mean? We ship some ⚠️CW⚠️ worthy ships! All are fictional and tagged appropriately. Instructions on how to use the keyword blocker are in this YouTube link! (More about what I draw/discuss below the cut so you can block disliked tags)

Two quick rules!

We're a SFW blog here, I will say we've got some suggestive themes, so I'd say please keep our asks appropriate for a 15+ audience, alright?

I'm being so serious when I tell you do NOT come on my page with anti rhetoric, I use the block button as the Tumblr devs intended,

Links↓↓ and about me↓↓

And a quick note, I do not currently take drawing or writing requests, but I do take suggestions. If you would like to suggest something to draw, I do not guarantee that even if I respond I will do said suggestion or finish it if I do start it.

Please feel free to ask questions about my AUs and the characters within them!

Also my DMs are always open to new writers and new friends! I am literally never bothered by messages, please ask me questions, please write new things, and please have fun! I'm not as awesome as some of you think I am, I'm just another silly person, and I love meeting other silly people.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Here's the link to our SFW Discord, make sure to be kind and pay attention to the rules!

You can find me on AO3 at Some_Very_GayMoth, although not everything on there is SFW, so navigate with care!

And on Twitter, where I never post, @TgayMoth

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

As I mentioned before It's important to note that I do write ✨Comship/dead dove✨ content, and as a psych enthusiast, I believe exploring darkness through fiction can be a positive and safe experience! So, hopefully there's no confusion there. There's a list of what I am comfortable writing about vs not below. (That is why I focus heavily on tagging all of my works adequately, and all of my posts! So that you can block keywords you don't want popping up on your timeline, and you —hopefully— never have to run into anything you don't want to see on my page!)

Please make sure to take care of yourself and pay attention to tags on any of my writing, or any writing in general. If you see something you do not want to see, don't click on it. Tumblr does indeed have a keyword filter, and I will always do my best to use keywords in my posts, so if you do not know how to set up your keyword filter with the things you don't want to see on your timeline, I would highly recommend you check out this link on YouTube that will show you exactly how to do that!

Now that I've mentioned keyword filters— here's what I write/talk about frequently so you can block the tags you don't want to hear about! As well as what tags I have blocked because I don't enjoy them personally, because everybody has boundaries and it's okay to have yours. (Just remember you're responsible for enforcing your boundaries by blocking people and tags you don't agree with/enjoy)

I write angst, violence, hurt/comfort, gore, all that good stuff.

I've written twincest(shout-out to Dreammare)

I've written stuff about anxiety, depression, schizophrenia, disability, all sorts of trauma, lots of that.

I've written Major character death, violence, and some mild gore too! A lot of that is for The Horrors in the Wilde, so keep that in mind, lmao.

Also, cannibalism because vampires! Thanks for that one Moon, Snow, and Stars.

You can block all of those, or block #Comship content to get rid of any mentions of that on my page!

Honestly I think that's all I have, which is kinda L, maybe I need to step up my dark fiction game if this is all I've got. (It can get so much worse and istg I will write worse stuff to spite anyone who's tossing around hate like it's confetti. And I'll tag it properly so they don't have to see it if it makes them uncomfortable. I'm just cool like that.)

Oh btw if you're not tagging your stuff properly or make a fuss about tagging things when someone tells you that you didn't tag something properly, you and me aren't cool. Nothing about that is okay. I will never fuss about someone asking me to add a tag, if I EVER miss something please tell me, I will happily add tags for you and keep them in mind for next time.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

As for my good normal tags, I'd recommend checking out the following on my page:

#bad sans poly

#moft asks

#the retriever institute

#dft!au

#the horrors in the wilde

#kd!au

#cfk!au

#fgp!au

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

About me↓↓

I have been writing for about five years now for the fandom, and I've been here since about the very beginning. Like when we were still figuring out that undertale had a genocide route, lmao. I actually got into UMTV through CPAU and never managed to make it out, lmao. I started posting my writing back in early 2020. It's been so wonderful to see this fandom grow and change, blossoming with many fun aus and beautiful ideas, and I hope I can contribute to many more beautiful ideas on my little corner of the internet.

I have some physical health problems that may make it difficult for me to post more regularly, but I will do my best!

Disclaimer; we are a OSDD system, I've known since about 2022, but it's not something we particularly enjoy discussing online unless it's relevant to a topic at hand. But, to my fellow systems, you're always welcome here. If you have questions, we're comfortable answering them, so feel free to ask.

#The Retriver Institute #ut au #undertale sans #undertale au #KD!AU #utmv #undertale fandom #sancest #proship community

38 notes · View notes

duskier · 10 months ago

Note

if you ever write for farah I would eat it up SO hard u don't even understand

also I've been thinking a lot about transfemme!ghost recently and mmm I was wondering if u had any thoughts?? loved ur last laswell post btw, I love ur writing so very much <3

-🦐

I'm gonna write transfem Ghost so hard for you at some point for your patience however today... today, we are talking Farah.

I love the idea of you being Farah's long distance partner. She is the busiest motherfucker alive, worse than Price and Laswell combined and guess what- she still finds time for you. Texts you cheesy GIFs in the morning and tries to never miss a goodnight text. Every holiday and anniversary you receive something delightful mailed to your front door. Something thoughtful, special, just something that screams how well she knows you and how much she thinks of you.

(FYI definitely don't think about her nose crinkling cutely as she smiles when you send her a corny meme. Don't do it. Just don't. It's too adorable. Kicking my feet rn.)

Farah likes to draw. More of a landscape artist, working with charcoal and graphite in her limited spare time she draws you every sunset, every hill, every cityscape she can. Sends every piece home to you 'for safe keeping'. You are careful to spray down the pages with a proper graphite sealant before you hang them up in your home. Nothing makes you happy like getting to surround yourself with things that are hers, like having excuses to talk about her when you have company over and they ask about the art on your walls.

(Somehow even drawing only in black and white, she never fails to capture the beauty of a sunset on a beach or the sunrise in the mountains.)

Farah is an old fashioned romantic, believes in sending letters home. You are luckily of the same mind, always getting a thrill when you receive a letter from your love. You can't help but shake your head when you get letters from her while she's on bed rest from a bad injury- blood not even washed off her hands when she wrote to you, if the faint bloody streaks across the pages are anything to judge by.

She mourns that the danger of her profession means that the two of you have to be careful at all times when being seen together in public. She rejoices in the fact that you don't just respect the passion she has for her cause, you vehemently support it. Every step of the way, you have given her the gift of understanding. You are a source of relief and comfort for her, the thought of your voice alone providing warmth on even the coldest nights.

Farah always comes home to you in the dead of night. She has to, there are no tearful public airport reunions for you- the risk to your lives is always much too great. Already in civilian clothes, Farah winding herself around you as you're swallowed up in her perfume. Melting into each other because you are so connected and so in love that merely making that first contact has you both sagging with relief.

"I'm home," Farah always says. She is, indeed.

#farah x reader #noel.haps #I meant to write something spicy but then got lost looking in farah's eyes my bad

53 notes · View notes

neutron-stars-collision · 1 year ago

Text

Waiting for the Night

Bruce Wayne x F!Reader

Chapter 20 - In the glow of the moon

Chapter 19; Masterlist Summary: Some conversations cannot be avoided. Especially when it is Bruce, who becomes impatient... Warnings: Swearing; angst. Too much talking. Author's Notes: Alas, we've made it. This is where the story ends *sniffles*. While I've got a short epilogue in mind, it's going to be more of a post scriptum, so I'm treating this as the conclusion to the journey. And what a journey it had been! 🥺 It only took me a year and a half to finish the series, but I'm so glad I did. Those idiots did not make it easy, but I'll sure miss them. This chapter is a long overdue punchline some of you had been waiting for. I hope it meets your expectations. Thank you for reading, waiting and supporting me in the very rocky process. You all made it much easier to convince my brain it was worth continuing 💕 And thank you, Shet, for dealing with my whining, doubts and endless drama - always grateful for you! Hope you all enjoy and let me know what you think? Tag list: @thecraziestcrayon, @kookiewastolen, @imimsy, @tuskens-mando, @sugarcoated-lame, @blue-aconite, @hypnoash, @rabbitdictionary, @nicklet94, @mcrmarvelloki, @shimmeringgrim, @ttae-yong, @freyadruid, @siriuslydestiny, @ms-dont-care, @raphaelaisabella, @itsmytimetoodream, @brightjimini, @castellandiangelo, @grunge-n-roses5 (let me know if you wanted to be removed/added).

(gif credit: @1038276637)

In the morning, you dared believe the universe must have a soft spot for you within its core. As soon as your eyes opened, your gaze noted two things. One, Bruce was gone. Two, there was a note with his handwriting on your bedside table.

Without letting your mind run away with the first fact, undoubtedly working itself into a spiral like no other you rolled over to pick up the page. The contents were simple: “Sorry I’m gone. The hospital called to say Alfred had been signed out, so I went to pick him up. See you soon.”

The spark of relief drowned out everything else as you dropped the paper onto the covers and smiled at the ceiling. Everything was still fucked. But this was something. Something that could take your mind off the reality. It was easy to admit that one thought. You missed Alfred. Missed his clever blue-grey eyes that saw through your bullshit. Maybe it was what you needed… Maybe.

The thought was a motivator to drag you out of bed and into the closet, absentmindedly searching for anything you could wear. The first proper wake-up of the morning came when you entered the ensuite and found yourself facing the mirror. Finding mussed hair and a red bruise on your neck. A few more below, scattered like flares across your body. Drawing attention to what happened. Making it impossible for you to deny it, even before yourself. A wave of shame rolled in your stomach, erasing the budding hunger. You turned your head the other way and never looked back until you were ready to leave the bathroom.

It was cold enough for a turtleneck, anyway.

The distraction kicked in as soon as you made your way downstairs. A chorus of voices could be heard coming from the kitchen. A sound you had not heard in the tower since the explosion. A quiet sigh of relief was all the noise you made as you headed into the room. Eager to see what was going on. Having reached the doorway, you peered inside. Bruce was the first one you saw, leaning against the kitchen counter with a timid yet bright smile. He seemed happy. Lighter than when you had first met him.

Another dangerous thought you did not want to entertain. Your gaze slipped over Bruce to settle on Alfred. He was leaning heavily on his cane, but no bandages were in sight anymore. Only a fading yellowish bruise and darker circles underneath his eyes. Dory was talking with him animatedly, her hands gesticulating broadly. A grin broke out on your face as you stepped through the threshold, immediately drawing attention to your arrival. All three pairs of eyes landed on you. Without meaning to, you met Bruce’s gaze first. The look in his eyes shifted, but his face was still open. As if he was happy to see you. Even after the previous night. You never had the time to pull that revelation apart.

“Glad to see you join us, darling” Alfred crossed the remaining space towards you with a bright smile.

Affection filled the caverns of your heart, making it impossible to get rid of that one feeling. The one that reminded you that you had not felt this welcomed anywhere in a very long time. That this, the three of them, almost felt like the home you had lost twenty years ago. You swallowed past the lump in your throat to reply, a cheeky smile masking the emotions tearing through your chest:

“Pardon me, I didn’t know we’ll be having a kitchen party” an answering scoff from Bruce was enough of a validation for the weak joke, “It’s good to see you back, Alfred” you met the butler’s gaze with a fond look of your own, not hiding just how much you had meant it.

You knew he understood, instantly adjusting his stance to open his arms and invite you in for a hug with a quiet croon:

“Oh, c’mere,” you did not need to be asked twice, returning the embrace with care, mindful of his lingering frailty.

But Alfred’s hug was everything but frail, instantly making you sink into the comforting touch you did not know you had missed. After a beat, aware of the company and the prolonged silence, you pulled back, squeezing his arms one last time. Over Pennyworth’s shoulder, you caught Bruce’s gaze again. The softness in his eyes was replaced with something more tender. Almost as if seeing you close to Alfred meant much more to him than he could say. You sent him a small smile as the butler spoke again:

“I see my boy at least had the decency to invite you to stay for longer” the older man threw a pointed look over his shoulder at Bruce before setting his piercing gaze back on you.

You did wonder whether the blush on your cheeks was as telling as you worried it might be. Because there was no escape from it.

“Of course, I-” Bruce’s offended rebuttal was never meant to be heard.

Only because you feared what he might say and whether you could mitigate the effects without the scene dissolving into chaos. You threw Bruce an apologetic smile and interrupted him with faux chirpiness:

“He did. At least until everything settles down in the city,” the apologetic note was not easily eradicated from your voice.

Because no matter what, you still felt like perhaps you were a nuisance to them. Like maybe you should have disappeared a long time ago and never bothered them again. But then Bruce was the one to ask… And the previous night, he seemed happy with you staying… You barely resisted shaking your head against the barrage of thoughts as Alfred remarked:

“Well, we’re certainly not short on space” he glanced at Dory as if awaiting her approval.

You followed his gaze only to see the older woman smile at you warmly. Giving her blessing with your favourite question of the morning:

“Coffee?” she raised the mug to accentuate the gesture.

“From you? Always” there was no need to think as you flashed her your brightest grin and joined the woman by the counter.

Perhaps it was alright for you to stay. Just a little longer.

***

The illusion of peace lasted approximately 32 hours and 27 minutes. It shattered in the afternoon of the second day of Alfred’s return as Dory left the dining room table, leaving you alone with the older man. As if he had been waiting for the occasion to arise, Pennyworth instantly settled his heavy gaze on your face. You got as far as awkwardly clearing your throat before he launched the first question:

“How are you doing?” you knew the nonchalance in his tone was only a means of keeping you calm.

And making you stay at the table, despite the alarm bells in your head urging you to run away. Because hell knew Alfred was damn good at seeing through your bullshit. Unfortunately.

“I’m good,” you pasted what you hoped was a convincing smile.

Hoping it would be enough to deter him. Foolishly.

Alfred leaned forward, putting more weight onto his forearms as he levelled you with another long look:

“Are you?” your heart stumbled in your chest as if begging to say: No, I’m not; he paused, seemingly to find the right words before driving another striking blow, “Because it took me a little over a day to see that things are not exactly easy between you” you could see the tactful turn.

The exact moment when Alfred noticed he needed to be gentle with you. When he saw your fragility and discovered the cause without you needing to say it aloud. That need to run and hide only grew stronger.

“Well… we get on just fine” you shrugged, aware that it was a futile attempt on your side.

It wasn’t a lie. Even after that night, things were fine. As in, Bruce talked to you, still shared his work updates, and checked in on you throughout the day. But he kept his distance. And you tried your best not to dwell on the fact fearing the heartbreak that would follow if you did.

“I know that you do,” compassion in Alfred’s eyes told you he noticed it too, “But I also know Bruce. And I can see that he’s desperately trying to fix something, but he doesn’t know where to start” the hint of hurt in his face was enough to crack your heart.

It was one thing to know you had been hurting Bruce. Another to hear it from someone else. Someone who knew him more than you. A wave of shame threatened to drown you as you gasped quietly and trained your gaze on the table. A lone tear slipped from the corner of your eye and dropped onto the cloth. There would be no more pretending.

“What do you want me to say?” the hysterical note crept into your voice as you heard yourself spill confessions you never dared put into words, “I’m scared, Alfred. Always had been. Because there are feelings that I can’t get rid of no matter what I do” more tears rolled down your cheeks as the desperation you had tried stifling reared its head “I don’t want to hurt him, but…” you trailed off, your voice breaking under the weight of emotions.

But that was it. The truth was spoken for the first time and somehow more terrifying. You knew how it sounded. How utterly pathetic it was to be afraid of the thing many were willing to die for. But you could not help it.

“You’re also hurting yourself, though” Alfred’s gentle statement was enough to make you look up.

You fixed your red-rimmed eyes on his face, resisting the sudden urge to scoff. He was right, but that did not change anything. After twenty years of hurting, what was some more? An eternity? Easy. Much easier than whatever was going on right now.

“That’s inevitable” you could only shrug, staring at him blankly.

Because that’s just the thing. It’s inevitable. There is no outcome where you could have this and walk away unscathed. No such variant of the reality.

From the disbelief on Alfred’s face, you knew he disagreed.

“What if it doesn’t have to be like that?” you opened your mouth to protest, but he did not let you speak just yet, “What if you could have everything you wanted and be happy?” the conviction in his eyes was something you wished you could share.

But you couldn’t. It sounded like a fable, a tale too good to be true. It sounded like your childhood before.

“I don’t think that’s possible” you levelled him with a resigned look and brushed the drying tears from your cheeks.

Suddenly you wanted nothing more than to burrow underneath the covers and disappear from the world until the morning. Only Alfred had one more thing to say…

“I beg to differ” with his tone urging you to listen, you fell quiet as he continued, “I can’t tell you what to do or think, but… You make him happy” his gaze softened as your heart panged, barely able to sit idly for much longer, “And I know that’s mutual” though there was no need, you nodded weakly, confirming the correct assumption “Love is terrifying, but it’s also worth the pain” unable to withstand the vulnerable moment, you closed your eyes, hiding the pain he could find there; he hit the metaphorical bullseye “Don’t let the fear take it away from you” as Alfred finished the speech you let out a long exhale.

As if sensing you were barely holding on, he stood up from the table and left the dining room. But not without reaching out to squeeze your shoulder first. Only once you were alone did you let the tears flow freely.

You desperately wanted him to be right.

***

Only two days later, things came to a head with the most unexpected beginning. Although it was late, you were still busy with work, reading up on different witness accounts of the aftermath of the flooding. While you were still officially off work for another week, you wanted to make sure you had something to write about as soon as you could. And as much as you wanted to, Riddler’s case was off-limits. The decision was difficult to accept, but it was a no-brainer. You could not write about events that hit so close to home and expect it to be unbiased. And any good at all.

So, with a heavy heart, you began a quest to find something new. To your utmost surprise – Bruce offered to help. And help he did, sharing various stories he has heard during his patrols, dropping hints towards the whispers passed around in the dark. You were more grateful than you knew how to express.

Glancing at the clock in the upper corner of the laptop screen, you groaned at the late hour. Perhaps it was time to finish for the night… Perhaps you could- You never got to end the thought as sudden feedback sound rang out in the study. Its whine made you startle, head snapping up in rapt attention at whatever would follow. That was familiar. A memory from what felt like ages ago. It took you another moment to catch up and recognise the song. The subtle strumming was almost indistinguishable. And then…

You got up before you knew what you were doing. Like a siren call leading sailors to their demise, the increasing volume of the music dragged you down the stairs. Once you got closer, you could hear him sing. Quietly, as if he never wanted anyone to have heard him, but still. His low, gravelly voice was enough to increase the cadence of your heartbeat and make you pick up the pace.

‘You're just like an angel

Your skin makes me cry

You float like a feather

In a beautiful world’

You knew the lyrics well enough to feel the familiar tension fill your chest when you reached the study and held your breath upon the sight.

‘I wish I was special

You're so fuckin' special’

Bruce had his back to you, the broad plane of his shoulders covered with a washed-out black t-shirt. Body hunched over the guitar. Without seeing his face, you knew that his eyes were closed. As the volume grew, his strumming got angrier. Dexterous fingers hit each note as they were supposed to. The pain in his voice perfected the picture and made you tighten your grip on the railing. It was terrifying to think about the song choice and what it meant. Whether it meant anything at all.

The longer you stayed, frozen by the sight, the more you knew you should have never given in to the pull. Because now you could not walk away. Not without talking to Bruce. Even if only just about the music. The longing got almost unbearable.

The guitar’s tone slowed; the riff returned to its gentle opening. Bringing the number to a close. Bruce’s voice turned smooth, rolling over your torn heart like a soothing balm. But only just so. Before you realised it, a solitary tear had rolled down your cheek. You whispered the closing lyrics alongside him:

‘What the hell am I doin' here?

I don't belong here

I don't belong here’

Bruce finished the song with a long exhale. For a moment, you contemplated running back up the stairs like you had never been there. But you could not move. Your mouth opened on its own accord:

“You’ve got a beautiful voice” you winced as Bruce flinched, his body tensing as he turned to face you with a shock evident on his face; still, you trudged on and added, “But that was a rather gloomy choice, don’t you think?” an unconvincing smile graced your face.

Because you knew Bruce would see beneath the mask. He would notice the drying tear on your cheek and the pain in your eyes. That one look would be enough for him to tear you apart.

“It felt accurate” Bruce shrugged, his façade drawn up and ready to hide all hints of emotion.

But you could see him look at you, gaze searching and assessing. Noticing everything there was to see. Like he always did. Unable to withstand eye contact much longer, you let your gaze roam as well. Slipping over his forearms and hands, still carefully holding the instrument. As if he expected you to leave so he could continue. But it was not that easy.

“If you’re a creep, then I’m a weirdo” you gathered enough courage to look back up at him, finding Bruce still gazing back; it was enough of an encouragement to make you drop the nonchalance, a veiled confession ready on your tongue “Kindred freaks and all,”

For the first time since he looked at you, you saw Bruce’s mask slip. A flash of surprise passed through his blue eyes and, then, something more tender. The aching chasm in your chest grew wider as you stepped down from the landing and took a step closer to him. The movement woke him up. Bruce took off the guitar strap from around his neck and placed the instrument back on the stand. Silence echoed in the vast room.

“I didn’t think you’d hear me play” when he raised his head again, part of that wall hiding him from you was gone.

In its place, you could see wary curiosity. As if Bruce did not expect to see you tonight or have this conversation. As if you caught him by surprise. For some reason, the idea settled with heavy guilt in your stomach. Because maybe you were trespassing, bothering him with your presence when he would rather be alone. You swallowed past the sudden lump in your throat and whispered:

“I’m sorry” your body had half made up its mind to turn around on your hell and march up the stairs.

Like you should have done when he finished the song. A goodbye was ready on your lips before Bruce spoke, making you freeze:

“Did you mean it?” the cautious tone arrested your attention.

As did the fleeting hope in his eyes. Gone so fast you assumed you had imagined it. Your heart skipped a beat as you understood what Bruce was asking. There was only one thing it could be. As if eager to spite you, your mind readily offered the memory. A sentence blurted out in a moment of passion. Your undoing, as it seemed. Heat filled your cheeks as you felt yourself shake. Panic took over; its job was simple – you couldn’t admit it. Not yet. Ideally never. So, you did what you do best.

“Mean what?” a confused smile was ready on your lips, masking the descending terror with a weak attempt at deflection, “The line just now? I-”

You should have known better. Bruce interrupted your pathetic one-woman play with a simple injection:

“You know what I mean” frustration rolled off him in waves, making him clench his hands into tight fists as Bruce stared at you with growing desperation.

Urging you to drop the act. But it was too late. The cold panic had settled, freezing you on the hardwood floors. Freezing your mind on that one thought – you couldn’t tell him. He can’t know.

“Bruce, I’ve no-” you tried again, without the foreign smile and bullshit nonchalance.

In your head, a pleading chorus was rising in volume. Drop it. Please drop it. But Bruce did not want to listen. He took a step closer, briefly reaching out his hand before letting fall back down. As if he wanted to touch you but soon realised that would not do.

“Please, just- Don’t lie to me” his voice broke on the last word, pain squeezing your heart like a vice; it only got worse when Bruce added, “I don’t think I can do this anymore” he glanced at you almost passively.

Almost as if he had not just crushed your heart in the palm of his hand with that one sentence. Cold fear rose in your throat as you took a step forward, voice wavering as you asked the only question you could:

“Do what?” even though you knew.

You could feel it in your bones. Bruce was done with this. With you. You could even guess why. And if that was it, the end, then you could not blame him, only yourself. A new wave of tears rose in your eyes as you waited for Bruce to cut the cord and end your suffering.

“This,” he vaguely waved his hand at the space between you before turning to pace the room, restless energy permeating every cell of his body, “It hurts too much to pretend. And- I mean, it’s pretty obvious. You must know by now” what? The question painted itself in the crease between your eyebrows as Bruce glanced at you with passion in his gaze, begging you to understand, “It’s not like I’m good at hiding it anyway” the following scoff was self-directed, as if Bruce was angry with his actions, or lack of them, as well.

But none of that explained what he meant. The bewilderment was evident on your face. You could tell Bruce saw it because he let out a long frustrated sigh. He stopped pacing, eyes trained on the floor as if taking part in a heated debate you were no part of. You reminded yourself to breathe, still frozen in your spot with no pointers towards where it was going. What was going to happen next. You opened and closed your mouth in a question that never quite came and went back to staring helplessly at Bruce. Fully aware of the pained look in your eyes and the shaking in your hands.

Later, you could pinpoint the moment he snapped. When the silence became too much to bear, and Bruce rushed in to fill it with words. More words than you had ever heard him say, unprompted. He walked back towards you, eyes wide and awake despite the late hour. But nothing you could see in his face warned you of what was coming:

“I know I’m new to this whole thing, but… I think I’m in love with you” oh. Oh. The breath hitched in your chest. The sincerity of his confession was the reason why you swayed on your feet, only just managing to grasp the railing before you fell at his feet – literary and figuratively; before you could process what Bruce had said and what it meant, he trudged on, seemingly unable to stop now that he began talking “Hell, I know I am, because nothing has ever torn me apart and put me back together all at once. No one else, but you” remembering to breathe, Bruce took a greedy inhale as his eyes met yours; the blue of his irises was set ablaze with that emotion you could never quite decipher. Until now, “I’m tired of pretending this is fine when it’s anything but. Nights like that last one are the worst because, for a moment, I get to feel what we could have, but then you- You leave, and it hurts twice as much because I know what I’m missing. What I’ll probably never have unless it’s with you” tears rolled down your cheeks as you stared, feeling the fear and love wage war in your heart. It was almost impossible to understand what was going on. And why the pain in his eyes only seemed to grow with each confession, the words dropping heavily onto the space between you, staining the floorboards with blood and despair. Yet still, Bruce’s next words slashed your heart anew, “And sometimes, I think… I think that maybe you’re the same” he looked at you again, the unasked question evident on his face.

A question you could not answer. The fear had won, claiming reign over your head and heart as you stared back. Still too frozen to move. Still unable to understand what had just happened. Bruce loved you. He was in love with you. He reciprocated, even though he did not know it. Fuck. All at once, you wanted to howl - be it from joy or pain, you could not decide. What now?

Your thoughts rushed a hundred miles per hour, spiralling and panicking. Worrying about every single what-if you could think of. All your mouth could form was a plea:

“Bruce, please- Don’t-” you did not even know what you were begging for.

Mercy, mostly. But with every second passing, you began to understand there was no way out of this. For better or for worse.

As if reading your feverish thoughts, Bruce closed the gap between you and reached out a careful hand, letting his fingers skim down the length of your forearm. Immediately, he had drawn attention to the chill you could feel settling in your bones as goosebumps followed his tentative touch. The sole-minded focus was still in his eyes:

“I swear I’ll leave you alone, detach myself from whatever is going on between us, if you’ll tell me I’m wrong” softening his voice a notch, Bruce searched your face, looking for the answers himself, “Tell me you don’t think of me like that and I’ll let it go. I promise” his hand clasped around yours, squeezing your palm as a reassurance that he meant it “Just tell me- Tell me you don’t love me” there, simple.

Or not so simple at all. A shudder went through your body as Bruce repeated the cursed word. Now it was entirely in your hands. The weight was resting on your shoulders, waiting for you to choose. For a second, you considered taking the way out that was still there. Faint and going against every promise you had made to yourself, but it still existed. You could deny everything, tell him he had it all wrong, lie and flee the scene with only the price of Bruce’s wounded heart on your conscience. But you couldn’t. Could not make yourself consider it beyond the basic set of assumptions and potentials.

Instead, you could only offer him an incomprehensible stutter, a collection of sounds paired with the colour draining from your face:

“I can’t- I-” the desire to run was still there, growing stronger with each second Bruce had spent staring at you.

He must have read it in your eyes for the moment you turned on your heel, body poised to run up the stairs, his arms were around you in a second. Caging you with your back pressed to his chest. Your shocked gasp was the only sound you could make.

“Don’t run away from me now,” Bruce’s plea was whispered right into your ear, making you shiver, “Please” only once you had the time to breathe, you noticed how lose his hold was; it would not take much to free yourself, should you want to “I’ve got you” the reassurance got through the white noise in your ears, making you relax.

Even if just by a fraction. You could feel the rise and fall of his breath at your back, the wisps of air across the back of your neck and cheek. One of his hands traced small circles on your arm, slowing your heart rate to a manageable pace. That was it. You couldn’t run from it anymore. You took a deep breath before you spoke:

“I’m so scared,” the admission was easy enough to utter.

A fragment of truth you owed Bruce. The reason for everything, as he would come to understand very soon. His embrace tightened slightly as he pressed a fleeting kiss to the crown of your head. It was almost enough to quieten the panic.

“I know, my love. Trust me. I know” the gratitude at his understanding was quickly overshadowed by the nickname he used.

The heart stuttered in your chest, unable to process it. My love. Two words that had never been aimed at you; have never related to you. A term of endearment you had come to envy in the quiet of your heart, yearning for something you never expected to have. But here it was, within your reach. If only you were brave enough to take it.

You closed your eyes, willing the courage to fill your veins as you pressed your back to Bruce’s chest. He wouldn’t hurt you. The statement filled your head like a mantra as you slowly forced more words out:

“You see me. The real me and it’s scary because what if you come to hate me? I don’t think I could survive that” it all came out in a rush of breath, leaving you gasping.

But it was out there. The truth for Bruce to hear and take in. The bravery was draining the energy from your body as you waited for a reply, a comment – anything at all. Anything to show you he understood.

He did not disappoint, offering you another gentle squeeze before speaking:

“I could never hate you” the certainty in Bruce’s voice was what you later considered as the thing that tipped the scales.

Because, for once, you pushed against the denial and believed him. After all, Bruce was the one with more to lose. The first to reach out. To come clean before you. Goddamn it, if he was brave enough, maybe you could be too… Maybe.

Cold shivers ran through your body as you tried to give voice to the words that had been choking you for days. If not weeks. You never thought to keep track and were too busy keeping them in. Despite everything. Perhaps there was no better time than now.

You squeezed Bruce’s hand to assure him you were not running away and turned in the embrace. It was better that way. Proper. You met his boundless gaze, now filled only with hope and the feeling you had recognised as the love he spoke of. It was enough. With a shaking voice, you released the confession from the prison you had made for it:

“Christ, I- I- I love you” the words came out wavered, and your breath stuttered with each syllable, but the light in his eyes was a reason to go on, “So fucking much it kills me” now that you started, the admissions did not seem to stop, slipping through your lips in a steady stream, slowly gaining speed “I’ve no idea when it happened, only that now you’re all I can think about. Every day, I go crazy because of you. Because I want you so much, I don’t know what to do with all those feelings. Sometimes it feels as though they’re going to tear my heart apart” running out of steam, you swallowed hard against the sudden dryness in your throat; it felt like a fraction of the weight had been lifted, now drowning in the blue gaze that did not stray away from your face. There was one last thing to add, a conclusion stating the obvious “But I’m still afraid,” the cursed punchline you did not seem able to shake off.

Only now, once the words were out, you allowed yourself to look back at Bruce. His shy smile acted like a magnet, drawing out your helpless twist of mouth. Your eyes followed the line of his nose (slightly crooked to the right) up to his eyes. Instantly drowning within the depths of blue irises filled with affection. Almost as if what you revealed did not change anything for him. As if, somehow, it would be alright. He would try rather than run away from you and your complex feelings no one seemed to fully comprehend. Not even you yourself. Too lost in his eyes, you only noticed he had reached up to touch you when you felt the gentle thumb brushing over the apple of your cheek. Caressing your skin and quelling the worries.

“Of what?” Bruce’s simple question acted like the needed push in the right direction.

A reason to put into words and label what you never dwelled on. But now, you had no choice but to piece it apart. Even if only because Bruce deserved it from you. He earned an attempt at trying from you. Because, when faced with the reality that he felt the same, you knew you could not deny it anymore. It was terrifying. And oh, so hopeful. You let the feelings in his eyes anchor you in the moment as you spoke:

“That you’re going to leave. Or something takes you away from me” you could see the recognition pass through his face, making the addition nearly redundant “I don’t have a great track record with love” still, the sad scoff could not be kept in.

There was something freeing in seeing the knowing look on Bruce’s face. In knowing that he understood the feeling, perhaps better than anyone else ever could. That, no matter what happened next, you were placing your heart in the palm of someone who gets it. That you had fallen for that same boy you felt a kinship with days after your childhood ended. It was almost poetic.

“I don’t plan on leaving” when Bruce gave voice to the affirmation, you wanted to believe him.

Because he said it before. Every time you let your insecurities win. You clenched your teeth against the denial bubbling beneath the surface and asked a question:

“Why?” hoping he would know what you meant.

It was the only way you knew of asking him why you were the one to make him care. Why you? Bruce only smiled in response, leaning in to kiss your forehead before effortlessly meeting your gaze and baring his heart. Again.

“Because you’re incredible, beautiful, smart, and you see me. You see Bruce Wayne where everybody else sees a symbol, an idea of who I am” the sincerity of his words made your heart seem too big for your chest, each beat threatening to be the one that would make it implode, “Only you see me as I am” as did the gratitude and love in his gaze.

Showing you that the feeling was mutual. You saw Bruce just as he saw you. Like no one else did. The discovery was enough to make you sure – it was worth it.

Aware of the likely sparks in your eyes and the foolishly lovesick look on your face, you cleared your throat and whispered a question:

“Can I kiss you?” you did not know why it felt necessary to ask when you never did before.

When it was probably a given, considering everything he just said. The only thing you were sure of was that you had to let him know. Had to show how much it meant to hear him say it.

Bruce’s fond smile was an answer enough, but he still brushed away your concerns.

“You don’t have to ask” leaning in, he nudged your nose with his and waited for your decisive move.

After all, it was you who had asked. Getting onto your tiptoes, you returned the playful nudge and placed your hands on his shoulders. From then on, everything was a reflex and acting on well-practised instincts. Your eyes closed as you leaned in, slotting your lips over his in a tender kiss. Bruce responded immediately, tightening his hold over your waist and opening his mouth underneath your tentative tongue. The kiss quickly turned heated, drawing out a muffled gasp from your throat and a half-stifled whine from his. Your fingers tangled in the hair on the nape of his neck as you gently sank your teeth into his bottom lip. Enough so to make Bruce groan and pull you closer.

That long-buried, sentimental part of your brain could tell this kiss tasted different. More carefree, unrestrained. Nothing stopped you from tracing the confessions on his skin as your tongue whispered words only Bruce could hear. You did not think anyone ever kissed you quite like that. Like it was the only thing he wanted to do until the end of time. Like the time spent caressing your lips and body was his holy ritual and never a waste of time. Like it mattered enough to be something Bruce devoted his attention to. Until you broke the contact to catch a breath, you were only his, and he was yours. Then, as your eyes met again, wearing matching infatuated looks, the kiss became a promise of more to come. You noted his blushing cheeks and offered a remark:

“I like what you called me, by the way” from the way Bruce’s eyes lit up instantly, you knew it was no slip of the tongue.

Even more so, it was a reason for your heart to beat faster. He meant it.

“My love?” his gaze traced the movement of your tongue, licking your drying lips.

And collecting the remains of the taste of his kiss. A pleasant shiver ran through your body as Bruce repeated the endearment. You could get used to it.

“Yeah, that’s new” you nodded, not even trying to school your features and erase the hope blooming there.

Bruce smiled, drawing out a gasp from your lips as his fingers crept beneath your shirt, lightly touching the skin on your waist. It almost distracted you from his next words.

“It can stay if you want,” without needing Bruce to elaborate, you knew what it meant; the feeling only grew stronger as he added, “If you’ll stay,” a meaningful pause signing off the conditional.

If. You still had a choice. At least, Bruce seemed to think so. What he did not know was that you had already decided. Or that your heart has chosen for you. There was no alternative there. But the slightest bit of uncertainty in his eyes told you he needed an answer:

“I’ll try to” the honest reply was a perfect opening for another question, one that you had been holding back for a while, “Are you mine?”

It was the final assurance you needed from Bruce if only to convince your head it was safe to give him your heart, body, and soul. For as long as he was willing to have them. For as long as he would have you.

Bruce used his unoccupied hand to squeeze your palm as he lowered his head to catch your eye. You had no doubt he caught the nerves lurking there; impossible to be exiled entirely. Unknowingly, you held your breath, waiting for his answer as if the world depended on it.

“If you’re mine,” Bruce’s reply was simple, bringing out your chuckle at the banter you had fallen into.

The joy was reciprocated, too, if the creases at the corners of his eyes were anything to go by. Not for the first time since you had met, you had been struck by a thought, a recognition that he was beautiful. The sharp features and striking eyes always pulled you in and made it impossible to look away. To stray your eyes from his. To find anyone else worth looking at. At this moment, in the dark gothic study, lit up only by the fireplace and the lamp, you knew it was always a lost cause. You had lost a long time ago.

Instead of replying, you kissed him quickly, relishing in the sharp gasp you got in return. When you parted, an answer was easy to conjure:

“I’m pretty sure you’re the only one willing to put up with this” upon Bruce’s questioning look, you motioned at the meagre space between you, highlighting the truth he might have missed.

That there was no competition there. Only Bruce was willing to endure you for this long and in this way. He was the only one wanting your love and loving you back. You were not quite ready to piece apart why (or how) that could be.

“I’ve always been told I’m relentless” the cheeky uptick of Bruce’s mouth was a hypnotizing sight.

You did not miss the telling glimmer in his eye or the smooth move which resulted in your body being pulled closer to his. Almost flush against his chest. It was impossible to deny your brain’s desire to offer you a recap of every moment you had shared which had begun in that way. And to stifle the shiver and the knowledge that, if the universe were gracious, you would have many more coming. The reminder was enough to make you smile and return the playful smirk:

“Good for me” struck with sudden weariness and feeling the rapidly dropping adrenaline, you tugged Bruce’s hand and wordlessly led him towards the sofa; only once you had fallen onto the cushions with a sigh and curled up next to him, you asked the question “What happens now?”

You knew Bruce would get what you meant. He always did.

You felt him shift, one arm coming up to rest around your shoulders, drawing you closer. The other hand was placed on your knee, providing gentle warmth and helping you stay present with him. It was almost too easy to let go and fall back on his constant support to keep you grounded. The doubts were still there, rising and falling like the natural ebb and flow of the tide, lapping at the edges of your conscience. You suspected they would probably always be there, somewhere. Ready to take over at the tiniest chance of something going wrong. The best you could do was hope that would never happen.

As if sensing your mental chatter getting louder, Bruce leaned in to leave a trail of kisses on the shell of your ear and nuzzled your temple. The resulting sigh was effortless on your part. As always.

“We try not to fuck it up” he had his answer ready, eyes trained on you and waiting for whatever might come up.

You had to admit it sounded simple. Almost doable. But…

“And if we do?” you turned to catch his eyes with what you knew to be a wild gaze.

You needed Bruce to say it. To promise he would fight for whatever you were to become. It had to work. Please. You already knew you would be willing to sacrifice a lot for this fragile thing between you. It was already a fact.

A fact Bruce could undoubtedly see in your gaze, for the confidence bled into his voice as he replied:

“Then we’ll try harder” he grabbed your hand, which restlessly picked at the loose thread on the hem of your shirt and squeezed it.

On a reflex, you threaded your fingers through his and pressed your palms together. You had no choice but to trust him. To do the unimaginable and place your heart in his hands, surrendering control in the process. You swallowed past the fear in your throat and pressed your mouth to the corner of his lips. It felt like an apt conclusion to the conversation long overdue.

A little later, once another kiss had ended, and a new one had not yet begun, you raised your head from its comfortable placement on Bruce’s shoulder and fixed your gaze on the black and white guitar resting on its stand. An in-direct reason you had the conversation in the first place. You briefly contemplated sending a thank-you letter to the manufacturer but were struck with a better idea.

“Bruce?” taking pleasure in how his name rolled off your tongue, you marvelled at the rare peacefulness of the moment.

There was nowhere else to be, nothing else to do. Nothing, but feeling the low rumble of his voice as Bruce hummed.

“Mm?” he kept tracing letters onto the skin of your arm, leaving you to guess their meaning on your own.

Sometimes you were willing to bet he was repeating the confessions he just spoke of. The thought drew an involuntary smile onto your face.

“Play me something” you met his gaze with that same affectionate look in your eyes.

There was no need to specify the request - you knew Bruce would choose well. He only grinned at you in response and disentangled from your embrace to stand up and pick up the instrument. You watched his forearms flex, tendons dancing beneath the pale skin as Bruce placed the strap around his neck and bowed over the guitar. His eyes closed in concentration, but he was not tense. It was a far cry from how you found him over an hour before.

With a breath trapped in your chest, you awaited the first notes. When he began the rhythmic strumming, a fond chuckle escaped your lips. You had to admit Bruce was nothing, if not predictable. Humming the chorus alongside him, you met his questioning gaze. You smiled, mouthing the words that were no longer forbidden. Love you. Sweetheart.

“Something in the way, huh?” the laugh spilling through the gaps between the vowels.

“What? You did not specify” teasing edge you would have never even imagined becoming so accustomed to.

“I knew I didn’t have to,” and then, just to see him roll his eyes with that enamoured exasperation “Babe,”

108 notes · View notes