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fullmetal-scar-simping · 4 months ago

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Hey I thought your post in response to that ask articulated really well why I don't like mangahood's approach with the ishvalans. And your line about how the bulky, towering scar is contrasted against the cowering form of winry made me think, and I went back and checked and yes, even though the manga does do more to show the ishvalans during the genocide, it's still showing only men. Men dying, young and old. There are no women or children there. We do see the children who have been treated by the rockbells and those are boys too. It really shows how dehumanised Poc men are. Because if arakawa actually showed mustang burning little toddlers or wailing mothers or trembling teenage girls that look like winry it might make us actually think that *gasp* he is a monster in a way him killing ishvalan men who are actively fighting back does not. Also one of the reasons why 03 Rose's stated SA makes the 03 version "darker" for many people than the on page deaths of ishvalan men other then SA being much more horrifying for people than violence like that.

You really hit the nail on the head regarding mangahood's choice of showing rebellion only from the perspective of Ishvalan men, and the mass slaughter of only Ishvalan men. Barring the Ishvalan child who Envy kills to throw a match into the amply-built tinder that was Amestrian occupation of Ishval (and once again, note who does the "unthinkable evil" against a "real innocent": Envy, not our lovable human war criminals), Ishvalan women and children evaporate from the scenes and topic of genocide.

The audience can logically infer that women and children have been murdered in the ethnic cleansing of Ishval, but by hiding this infuriating imagery we spare the creators and audience the additional horror that people are primed to feel when it isn't men being mowed down. This is what I mentioned regarding in-built biases of the audience being catered to by the narrative, as well as baked into the narrative.

There is a cisheteronormative and patriarchal bent to fma that people, even supposedly feminist fans, struggle to identify and contend with. Particular to mangahood especially, as fans continually pedestal this continuity as being "filled with strong, powerful, fleshed-out girls and women". It's not that this statement isn't true to some extent, but (without my rambling for 6 trillion paragraphs solely on a tangent) there are major holes where women/girls are treated with normative sex/gender constraints or wholly erased. Ishvalans are a massive blindspot here. Ishvalan women and girls barely exist in mangahood. The only figure we really see in Brotherhood, who even has any lines whatsoever, is the elderly woman who is sure to regale Ed about how monstrous Scar had been to the kindly Amestrian doctors.

So this leaves the men who, again, there are barely any that can be considered capital-c Characters (Scar and Miles. That's it.) But, they make excellent fodder for our heroes to butcher and feel sad about, and for our noble national coup to also butcher, but no one even acknowledges that loss of life. el-oh-el. And when we're not seeing them as vicious rebels who dare point their weapons at Amestris, Ishvalan men can stand in the background making this face 😟 at Scar's actions. If, ala the manga, we meet any who suffered from the genocide and hold animosity towards Amestris/ians, we can both feel some sadness for their situation while also feeling alienated from those who would hate our beloved protags.

I love trotting this out, but the fact that everyone can easily despise Shou Tucker for what he did to Nina and his family, but they cannot fucking connect the fact that Mustang, Riza, Hughes, Armstrong, Marcoh, and every single other participant in the genocide murdered children, families, girls and women by the hundreds of thousands means anything these fans have to say about fma as a story about genocide and imperialism is grotesquely lopsided at best, outrageously racist at worst. Tucker has actually enacted fewer atrocities against children alone than the staggering numbers Mustang et al committed. But Tucker killed his little white daughter. Mustang et al murdered invisibilized brown children. Don't mention the elephant in the room.

And to swing back to the point about the magnitude of dehumanization men of colour, and thus men characters of colour, face: yeah, the scores upon scores of murdered Ishvalan boys and men hardly registers as anything more than mildly off-putting to most fans. A sad factoid of the show's and manga's canon, nothing more.

(Or. Y'know. Excellent whump material for your fave military ships and light-skinned characters to grow. Haha. Ha. Haaaa. 😐 Don't worry, this isn't just the fans either. Arakawa, ma'am. Wut.)

Fma 03, in contrast with mangahood, really didn't fuck around with this topic. Again, not enough major named Ishbalans and Ishbalan women, but women and children ARE shown being decimated by the Amestrian forces. We actively talk about the horrors they too suffered. We don't sugarcoat that Mustang et al are war criminals first and foremost. We don't pretend like Winry is the greatest victim of the squashing of the Eastern Rebellion. And the truth is, 03 paying direct attention to Liore (and the choice to depict Liore as a predominantly brown ethnic group) is another way to show that this is systemic. That it doesn't matter who is in the Amestrian military: they will follow orders to invade, murder, and rape their targets. Ishbalan and Lioran men, women, and children are not spared. And this isn't revealed so you can weep for fascists, it's so you can see the fascism inherent to nationalism and the military.

People run from 03 because it's "too sad," "too dark," "makes the lives of its characters hell," but they love genocide when it's feel-good, (imperial) family-oriented, and ship-fodder! When it says "All Lives Matter," not when it says "Your life is built on the mountains of corpses your nation piles high for its own gain. And you are no less culpable even if you didn't pull the trigger yourself."

"Rose gets raped in 03, and because we think rape is an untouchable topic, we're going to slander the team behind this anime as racist misogynists," people who say this shit couldn't analyze media or politics in any meaningful way if their lives depended on it. Yet this is a common enough refrain, even amongst some 03 fans. Depiction is not inherently endorsement, and far too many people are exceptionally terrified of the reality that rape, sexual assault, sexual slavery, and trafficking are war crimes. Any war, any invading soldier, will have been party to or directly committed rape. They are routine to the point of mundane actions that imperial armies utilize.

Rose, as well as 03's narrative and characters, never demean, mock, sexualize, or reduce her down to the atrocity Amestrian soldiers (and likely Hakuro) did to her. But mangahood and some 03 fans? Boy, they sure as fuck do exactly that! Great job, assholes! Is this feminism? The denial of systemic misogyny as it aligns with imperialism? Not girlboss shonen action wholesome #inspirational enough for you to look directly at and address, instead of bluster and hide away from?

Cough. I'm getting off-track here.

Rape is not a uniquely worse form of violence than murder, let alone mass slaughter. Genocide and ethnic cleansing includes rape. Though girls and women suffer rape from the soldiers of imperial forces at a higher rate than boys and men generally do, they too can be and are raped as well. But, once again, we can't and shouldn't think about that. We can't think about and shouldn't witness that in our silly fun media. We can't discuss this in fan spaces. We can't consider rape on par with tearing brown men's bodies apart in an explosion. We can't see girls and women as brutalized victims of our protag war criminals, period. All of this, murder and rape, violates autonomy, the body, the people, but one form of violation is deemed 'worse' than the other and so that makes 03 "too dark and edgy with nothing to say" while mangahood is "so deep, so anti-imperialist, so anti-military."

All while fans and the narrative forget (willfully and otherwise) that Ishvalan men are being mass violated by the thousands.

Scar killing their violators, his violators; the rapists and murderers of Ishvalans, is villainy. So says mangahood, so says Arakawa, so says the Broho team, so says the fans.

Good thing Scar gets ~~~~~reformed~~~~~

Thanks for the ask! I'm glad I was able to articulate some mutual feelings on the mishandling of genocide, Ishvalans, Scar, and the Rockbells. And I appreciate that you double-checked the manga to see how it stands up in comparison to its 09 anime adaptation!

We cannot One is All, All is One our way out of white supremacy, imperialism, nationalism, and racism/colourism. No matter how desperately people close themselves off from acknowledging the truth.

#man you folks have been dropping some banger asks lately #bless bless #ask #meta #vent #fma #fmab #fma 03 #scar fma #rose #winry #mine #long post

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bouncybongfairy · 1 year ago

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Hidden In Plain Sight Part 1

Peter Parker/Spider-Man x Fem Reader

Summary: You were on your way to class, finishing up some last-minute homework on the subway. The train derails, causing mass chaos. The subway car you're in is badly mangled, leaving you trapped behind a bent hand railing. While getting saved by spiderman, his mask gets caught on a jagged piece of metal. You come face to face with someone you'd never imagined and ever since then, you can't keep him off your mind.

Work Count: 3k+

Part 2 is now posted! <3

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

It was raining out, dark clouds were covering the sky. The subway was incredibly sleepy today. Everyone seemed like they were still half asleep. It was peaceful, hearing the rain hitting the roof of the train. You finished up a math assignment that should have been done last night. Your statistics class was really kicking your ass. To make matters worse, you spilled a bit of your coffee onto the corner of the page; it was bugging the hell out of you. You were watching other passengers exit one by one. There was a mother with a baby stroller that was draped in a plastic lining. Two teenage girls who were holding hands, giggling with one another. After finishing the last equation, dusting off the eraser bits off the page and admiring your work, you put it away. It wasn't until then that you noticed that you were alone in the car. You smiled to yourself a little. Normally the train was always packed, so it was cool to have the entire space to yourself. You notice that you're pulling up to your stop, so you put away your phone and headphones into your bag. Before you could even register what happened, you were pinned underneath a bar of metal.

Your vision was now blurry and the ringing in your ear was so loud that it was making your eyes water. You start moving your limbs around weakly, trying to detect any pain or blood. You looked around, trying to make sense of what was happening. It was like one second you were existing and the next you were so disoriented you can't even speak. There was shattered glass everywhere, drops of water coming from the roof. The metal that made up the train car was busted in several areas, yet you were still completely enclosed. Your bookbag was near you. You try reaching for it, to get to your phone and call for help but couldn't quite reach. You began screaming for help; you were straining your voice so hard that barely any sounds were coming out. Quickly your screams turned into sobs. You were beginning to get claustrophobic. Using all your force trying to pry all bars off you, it was like pushing on a brick wall. The doors were getting pried open; you noticed, but were more worried about getting out from underneath the crushed metal; you were becoming frantic.

"Hi, it's okay I'm gonna help you out of here. Just try to stay relaxed while I figure out a way to get you out of here," he said.

"Please get me out of here!" you cried out starting to hit the metal out of desperation.

"I am, hey just listen for a second," he said, grabbing your face with his hands to get you to focus, "I think I can get you out by lifting you through the bars, instead of having to pry them up. It won't take as long. You really need to calm down though, okay?" he said, you nodded your head and started taking deep breaths in.

He crawled up to the ceiling positioned himself above you, his feet were attached to the wall. He then reached down and grabbed you underneath your arms. He started to slowly pull you out from the space you were lodged in. He was giving you simple instructions while encouraging you. Saying things like 'strengthen your legs a little' or ' you're doing great, you're practically out'. He used his webbing to grab your bag, his other arm was wrapped around your ribcage. Once he pulled you fully out, the adrenaline was starting to ease up a little. You looked up at him and saw his mask, focusing on the stitch lining; taking in every detail. A jagged piece of metal catches the top of his mask and pulls it off. His face was red, like he'd been working out for hours. His hair wasn't soaked but you could tell it was damp with sweat. Due to it being cold outside, when the mask first came off condensation was coming off his head. When you made eye contact, you literally saw his pupils change his eye color from blue to pitch black. You were only making eye contact for a couple seconds but it felt like much longer than that. You could hear the clanking of police gear, their footsteps getting closer and louder. You grabbed his mask and pulled it over his face without saying anything. He adjusted it on his head before leaving you with the police who escorted you to an ambulance.

Other than a few flesh wounds and a mild concussion you were fine. You were told to take it easy for the next week. Ever since the interaction with Spider-Man you couldn't stop thinking about him. You kept looking at videos of him on the news, where they were filming him while in such dangerous fights. He couldn't have been much older than you and it made you feel bad for him. You were in college and worked, even that made you feel like you were being suffocated with obligations. You couldn't help letting your mind wander a bit, thinking about how his eyes widened; how vulnerable yet strong he looked. You were sitting in the bathtub, it was Saturday night but the last thing you wanted to do was go out.

The water was so hot it was steaming, it took you a moment to adjust yourself to the hot water. Once you did, you could feel your muscles loosening. You had just finished your homework for the week and you didn't work in the morning. It was nice being able to relax without subconsciously being worried about going to work the next day or an assignment you forgot to do. Music was playing from the speaker, you had a towel next to the tub to dry your hand whenever you wanted to change the song or take a hit from your pen. The bubbles were beginning to lose their battle with the water and were slowly disappearing.

After getting out of the tub you dry yourself with a towel and make your way to your bedroom. You change into some sweat pants and a tee shirt and order something off uber-eats. The last thing you wanted to do was make yourself dinner after such a hectic week. You ended up settling on walking to your local deli instead of ordering out. The bodega was only three blocks up the road and there was enough light outside to walk there safely. You throw on a pair of shoes and grab your purse before making your way down the stairwell. You saw your neighbor Amarita who was sweeping the steps, she is such a sweet lady.

"Y|N! I'm glad I caught you, I wanted to let you know there's a new neighbor moving in tonight. All I know is that it's a younger guy, I just wanted to let you know in case you think it's a stranger or creep," she said, supporting her weight on the broom.

"Thanks for letting me know, do you want anything from Mitch's? I'm going down to get some dinner," you offered.

"Oh thank you babe! Can you please get me a Tuna sub with lettuce and onions please? But only half, it's so big I can never finish it," she complained and gave you a kiss on the cheek before you left.

'I love that little old lady' - you thought to yourself.

Once you got to the deli you were greeted by a couple workers, you were a regular there. You ordered the subs and then strolled around looking for drinks and a couple snacks. You grabbed a Diet Coke, a pickle and some chips. You got Amarita a coconut water and a chocolate bar; you also ordered her a 12 inch so she would have something to eat later if she got hungry. You walked back quickly because of how cold it was outside. When you got back to your apartment, you knocked on Amarita's door to give her dinner. When she didn't answer even after the third knock you thought about walking in but she came up the stairwell before you could.

"Oh Y|N you're back just in time. This is Peter, he'll be moving into the apartment in between us," she said beaming.

The minute you locked eyes with him you immediately recognized him, he seemed to remember you as well because his eyes said it all. They widened just as they did on the subway, you swallowed and took a deep breath. You snapped out of it and handed her the food you bought her. She was playfully scolding you about how much money you spent on her. You broke away from eye contact and assured her that it wasn't a big deal and that it was more important to you that she was fed. When you looked back at him, he was still staring, like he was waiting for you to react.

"It was nice meeting you Peter, I'm Y|N by the way," you said smiling while rummaging through your purse to find your keys.

"Yeah I uh- It's nice meeting you too," he stuttered out.

You went back inside and had to check your heart rate. You knew that was him, there was no doubt about that. What would be the benefit of you confronting him about it, it's not really any of your business. It's not like he was doing anything illegal and putting him would be pointless. It did make you a little nervous living next door to Spider-Man. What if he attracts a villain here and you get caught in a dangerous crossfire. You sat on your bed and turned on Jersey Shore eating your food while thinking about the fact that one of New York's top crime fighters was snoring next door.

The next morning when you got up, you were thrilled to see that you slept in till 11. You got dressed and opened up your laptop, scrolling through your emails. There was none that stuck out to you and ended up closing the computer out of boredom. It was raining again today which made the view out your fire escape look like a windows lock screen. You hear a couple of teenagers shrieking from the ground, pointing with smiles on their faces. Suddenly a blue and red blob flew right past your window. You gasp and jump back before going back to your window to investigate. It was him, flying through the air using his web. Making different poses as he hit his peak height. You looked at the rim of your window and noticed webbing that was left behind. Without really thinking about why, you opened the window and grabbed it. Pulling into your room like a rope. It was sticky but because of the rain, you could tell the adhesive was worn off. You leave in on your window seal, you were mad at yourself for caring so much. You go into the kitchen and pull out the other half of your sandwich before going back to your bed. You turn on your T.V and scroll through documentaries to fall asleep after you enter your food coma.

Your only day off ended as quickly as it started, it was nice to spend the entire day in bed though. It felt like your body needed all that time to catch up on rest. You got up and showered, you had to get ready for your statistics class today. It was one of the first times the sun had been out in a week and a half. After getting out of the shower you began blow drying your hair in the bathroom. Your laptop was sitting on the vanity, playing Jersey Shore. It was blasting through a portable speaker, you kept humming the theme song as it played. You were thankful that the rain had let up because you could finally go out with your hair flat ironed. You bite through your closet and settle on a pair of jeans and a fitted long sleeve shirt. After applying a bit of make-up, you get all your things together and make your way to the subway. As you walk, you take a moment to appreciate the weather. There was a slight breeze, but still enough sun to prevent it from being too cold. Ever since the accident you were hesitant to use public transportation. You're a very practical person and know the likelihood of anything happening again anytime soon is fairly low. It still scares you, like a mild ptsd or something.

The ride was short and packed which helped take your mind of the ride itself. Once you get to the campus you enter the coffee shop that is adjacent to your classroom. You were grateful that you chose to get your homework earlier this week. It gave you time to browse the library before you had to be there. You weren't looking for anything in particular, just something to read in your pass time. You admired some of binding of the book, some were so used you couldn't even read the title while others looked like they'd never been opened.

"Ma'am I'm sorry but we don't allow food or drink in here," an older man with white hair, mustache and thick glasses informed you.

"Oh sorry, I'll be on my way," you said.

"Don't feel too bad, some of these books are so outdated, they could be improved by a coffee spill," he said with a thick New York accent.

Once you got to your classroom, there were about 15 students loitering outside the door. This told you that the teacher was late, you expected this of course. She was the type of teacher that would waste half the class talking about her kids or messy divorce. All the other students would talk trash about her if she left the room for any reason. You felt bad for her, teachers that always ranted about their personal life always struck you as lonely. Why else would they be ranting to their students about their problems? You move your straw around your cup before taking a sip. Mrs.Claski finally walks up the stairs towards the classroom. She was rambling about how she was 'so sorry' that she was late. Apparently she was at the vet with her cat, you didn't bother paying attention to all the little details explaining why. You take your seat and pull out your laptop, Claski had to leave to make copies of the assignment we were working on today. As she walked out, Peter walked in. You made eye contact, and it only reaffirmed that he was the guy from the subway.

He broke eye contact and made his way to a chair, the classroom was full at this point. Only one or two seats were open and of course both were in front of you. Luckily there were still those outdated hulky P.Cs on every desk which put a barrier between you and him. When you saw him, you immediately thought about the web you pulled from your fire escape. Like him being so close was putting you at risk of him finding out. Maybe that's why he looked so freaked out when he saw you at the apartment building. Because he recognized you from not only the train but the building as well. It's crazy because until everything that happened, you didn't even notice that he was in any of your classes. Now it was almost impossible to ignore. Like he had been hidden in plain sight this entire time, right under your nose. The teacher didn't end up coming back to class until there was only 15 minutes left. She apologized and let everyone go earlier, seeing that there was no way the class could get an assignment done at that time.

When you were on your way home, you knew that if he wasn't busy he would have to take the same train and walk to get there. Your anxiety was through the roof, and what was even more frustrating is you weren't really sure why. The tension between the two of you felt so thick, like it was wrapped around your throat and was tightened when you saw or thought about him. You gathered your stuff and made your way out of the classroom. You put your headphones in and started making your way back to the apartment. You had to stop at the store on your way home, your refrigerator looked like it belonged in a frat house. You decided on making pasta and ground beef, that way you could take some left-overs to Amarita. You Ubered home so you didn't half to carry your groceries from the store all the way back to your building. Once you got there, Peter was walking up to the building. You took a deep breath before entering the building. This was like a sick joke or something. Once you get to the top of the stairs you hand to pass him to get to your building. As you passed him, your bag got caught on the hand railing causing it to rip and send your groceries tumbling. As you began gathering all the food back up again, you looked up and saw Peter begin to help. You looked in his bag that he set on the floor and saw that all it had in it was frozen burritos and some Gatoraids. This made your heart sink and again without really thinking about why you opened your mouth.

"I- do you want to come over in an hour and have dinner? I'm making pasta and I bought way too much stuff," you said as he handed you a can of tomato sauce.

"Def- that- I would love too but are you sure?" he asked.

"Yeah, like I said, is an hour good?" you asked

"I'll be here, thank you," he said. You both walked to your doors and let yourselves into your apartments.

"What did I just start," you mumbled to yourself before starting dinner.

#spiderman #spiderman fluff #tom holland #tom holland spiderman #peter parker x reader #peter parker #spiderman x reader

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eyesxxyou · 1 year ago

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Idk if i'm correct, touching and mapping his skin might kinda require him to like. Idk. Lose clothes? Start from there baby, the rest will come t'you

-🐘

Smh iggggg I need to rewrite what I have so far cuz I HATE it. Look at this shit:

Hobie Brown has always been your greatest muse since you were children. Every drawing you’ve ever created has included him since you were drawing stick figures. Every sketchbook from childhood, your progression from crayons to marker, marker to fine-tipped pencil, was filled with images of him.

You’ve spent hours staring at him, days, weeks, years, decades. Your eyes have taken in his image longer than they’ve taken in your own. Pencil on paper and your hand always moved in the shape of him when given the opportunity.

And to this day, for the life of you. You cannot draw him as you see him.

“No, no, no. His lips aren't right."

You flipped your pencil and furiously began to erase the mouth of your latest drawing of the same subject you always end up drawing. It seemed like you could never get him right the first time. Or any time for that matter. Every image bearing not quite enough resemblance to his ethereal nature

Your fingers gripped your pencil and dug it into the paper of your sketchbook that rested against your thighs brought to your chest as a makeshift desk. You erase and erase, dragging the rubber tip against the paper with a frustrated vigor that ended in you tearing through the paper right across his pretty face.

Page ruined and feeling defeated, you groaned and tore the page from your sketchbook entirely, balling it up and tossing it across the room from your bed where you sat. You watched it fly and hit the head emerging from your window. The hair was unmistakable, soon followed by the gorgeous face you had just attempted to replicate on paper but nothing could quite match the real thing with enough adequacy to leave you satisfied.

Hobie was the most gorgeous person you had ever known in your life. From his dark skin to his slender cheeks, his beautiful, well-kept hair to his pierced lips, and that little beauty mark he had resting just below his hairline. He came through the window, one lanky limb at a time, one boot after the other until he was standing in your flat at his full height.

“Wan’ed me t’see ya new drawin’ tha’ bad?” He bent down and picked up the balled up paper, his long, slender fingers unballing the paper while making his way to your bed where you sat idle. You placed your sketchbook to the side, teeth nipping softly at your bottom lip as his eyes examined the page.

Hobie never expressed disapproval of you drawing him, never told you to stop, never even raised a pierced brow when examining your sketchbook and finding page after page of just his face sketched out until your pencil grew dull. Was it your friendship that protected you from judgment? Did he say nothing because of pity? You had no one else to draw.

“Wha'cha rip it for?”

“I didn't mean to.” You murmured, placing your pencil behind your ear. Hobie came and sat beside your feet, a free hand pulling your legs into his lap. His warm hand remained on your exposed thigh, stroking and massaging the flesh while his eyes examined the page.

You rolled your lips, eyes watching the way his fingers dipped into your supple flesh, gripping. “I uh– I erased too hard.” His thumb mindlessly rubbed circles into your skin. “You’re a hard person to draw.” You know exactly why you can't draw him. It’s embarrassing but you have this thing where you feel you must touch the subject of whatever you’re drawing, feel out the details and intricacies of your subject with your hands before attempting to draw. It may be all in your head but you always felt your art comes out better that way.

Hobie tossed the page behind his shoulder on your bed and looked at you with those pretty eyes of his. “O’ course ya think tha’. Ya always draw me when ‘m no’ ‘round, doll.” He shuffled in closer, the softest touch of a smile on his lips, the piercing glinting. “Wha’s a drawing withou' the real thing?”

He grabbed your sketchbook and flipped through it, page after page of him, just him, and a few other object studies. There was nothing of disgust or dissatisfaction, just glint in his eye that could have equally been approval as anything else. He opened up to a blank page and slid it into your lap. “Try ‘gain.”

I HATE IT

#{eye's inbox}#{👁️ inbox}#🐘 anon

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squeakygeeky · 11 months ago

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7 Days Before Valentine: Novella vs Drama

This write-up will contain complete spoilers. I know not that many people watched 7 Days Before Valentine, but I think you might still be interested in how things were adapted from page to screen, so the basic premise of both is that a guy who just experience a breakup gets visited by a 'cupid reaper' for seven nights, who gives him the chance each night to erase someone from existence in the hopes of changing things enough to make the breakup not have happened. Ultimately it's a story about acceptance.

Overall I'm actually calling this for the series, because the novella is very short, but the series is able to flesh everything out and really delve into the characters and the implications of the character's choices on everyone at large.

7 Days Before Valentine is based on a novella by the same title by Patrick Rangsimant. I've also read My Ride, I Love You and My Imaginary Boyfriend by him. I enjoy his writing and he's actually a doctor so you can tell from his writing that he's experienced a lot of things in life and his work tends to have a philosophical bent. This work was definitely the serenity prayer as a BL. He tends to write mostly dialog and introspection, a bit like I write actually. It's straightforward and a bit bare, so the vibes of the story and the series are very different. The overall ominous weirdness of the series came from the director/screenwriter, but I think the way it's very theatrical did suit the talky/thinky source material.

The series is also based on another novella, 7 Days Before Halloween, but that one doesn't appear to have an English translation or maybe hasn't even been published yet. The story we get for Q in the series (who goes by the slightly less cute 'Cue' in the novella) is all in there so I can't say how close that was to what we got in the series. Cue doesn't go into his backstory in the series.

The narrator of the novella is nameless and definitely feels like more of an Everyman compared to Sunshine. He's a little blase about erasing people from existence but feels like he could be anyone struggling to accept a major life change, which is the point. I don't remember him being described physically at all and we don't get any details of his life. This makes him way less frustrating than Sunshine, who begins the novel as a self-absorbed and selfish actor, but also not particularly memorable as a character, and it's less that the narrator experiences general character growth and more that he learns to deal with this specific life crisis.

There's no flower shop/bar in the novella. I was hoping we'd get some explanation for that guy who seems to be another supernatural entity like Q, but nope. Also, having the kid from the flower shop as a character gave the show the chance to point out that romantic love isn't the be-all-and-end-all of love, which is pretty unusual for a romance series and was a nice touch.

There also isn't any exploration of what erasing a person means for the world at large. For example, in the novel erasing the politician the couple argued about just doesn't work to fix things, while in the show Sunshine manages to create a whole dystopia. I think that aspect worked well in the series. Both do have the main character fixing things by wishing himself out of existence, only to be brought back by someone else's wish, but of course we don't get the explanation of that in the novella the way we do in the show.

There is a little romance between the narrator and Cue in the novella, but more just that they meet at the end and recognize each other. Yes the show was a slow burn, but I did like the way Q in the series progressed in his attitude, from antagonism to protectiveness to love towards Sunshine, and the way they both opened up to each other. The climax of Sunshine wishing Q out of existence in order to release him from being a reaper was just so perfectly devastating. In the novella it's much less dramatic since the narrator gets the opportunity to make a normal wish and wishes for Cue to be happy. In both cases this does lead to them having a new meet-cute as regular mortals, it's just 1000x more satisfying in the show both because they'd already fallen in love and lost each other at this point but also because we got to see how things clicked into place with a reaper version of Sunshine having been the Q to mortal Sky, who needed to learn his own lessons about loss and regret and letting go.

I think the bizarre oppressive atmosphere of the show really paid off in the final episode, because everything felt clearer and lighter and yes, the colors, and that added to the impact of Sunshine straightening his shit out and the whole last minute reunion. Anyway, I SWEAR THIS WAS GOOD GIVE IT A CHANCE.

#7 days before valentine #thai bl #thai ql #bl novel #y novel #patrick rangsimant

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victorgrwrites · 1 year ago

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Higher Than Death | Prologue: Little Dark Age

Prologue of my multichapter Gortash/Durge fic focusing on events pre-game. The prologue happens after the coronation, where Jack (Durge) sneaks into Gortash's office to learn more about Gortash, and maybe himself in the process

Chapter posted below if you do not prefer AO3, and a song for your listening pleasure.

Enver never really knows where he will sleep on any given night in recent months. Joyously gone were the days where he could fall asleep on any cold patch of stone he could find, though it means he insists on having a bed in several key areas.

Moonrise is the bottom of the barrel with the constant howling winds and frigid interior. He prefers the cot in his private workshop over that, even though he rarely makes it there from his workbench. At least it's warm there.

His grandiose room in the temple of Bane is the preferable choice, but tonight he will make do with the four poster in the fortress office. It's comfortable enough, and he doesn't want to miss the arrival of his returned...

Well.

Even he admits he eagerly called him 'favorite assassin'. 'Nearest and dearest'. 'Kings', 'Gods'. He had to wonder if he was too eager at today's coronation, played too much of his hand.

The Bhaalspawn is not the same man Enver knew. Where he would expect to find quiet confidence and a surgeon's dissecting stare pointed toward a stranger, the Archduke found him on flat footing, his eyes desperately flicking about to find the invisible pieces of his mind. Perhaps he was too gentle, but even the faintest glimmer of a possibility to have Jack at his side once more made his heart skip embarrassingly.

Enver's assassin.

His killer, his blade, his daredevil, his audience, his admirer, his candid observer, his confidant, his promised doom. Masochist, sadist, equal.

His equal...

Enver blinks away the jumbled mess of words from his head to find a pool of black ink spreading over half-legible words. With a frustrated huff he sets the quill back in its holder on the writing desk, lifts a small cup-like contraption to set over the ink blot, and clicks a button on the side to suck the errant ink from the parchment.

...Yes, the words too, his mindless confessions erased from the page to return it to pristine parchment.

Better to try to get sleep. With any hope Orin will be too busy bothering Jack to bother with his guards tonight. With a tired groan, he lifts himself out of his chair, dark eyes flicking to the Steel Watch, the only guards left in the room itself once the sun had dipped beyond the ocean's horizon. They were better than any mortal guards anyway.

His firm steps thud from wood steps to stone, moving down the length of the long table and behind the elegant chair sat at the head. Once he rounds the corner where his bed sat, he realizes...

Perhaps he should have kept the guards inside.

Jack sits with his legs out in front of him, one leg bent up, wedged into a corner that was difficult to see from the main room. He has a book, one of *his* memoir notes open to a page, warm eyes flicking quickly along the lines. Speed reading.

Tens of possibilities flew into Enver's mind, each with their own appropriate response. A slight glance down to his gauntlet and, no, it does not resonate. He did not have the last netherstone, though he clearly still had Ketheric's on him.

He should call his Steel Watch. How did they not see, how many books did he have stacked next to him, how long has he been here?

The mild shock on the Banite's face melts into a cool smile, one of his more dangerous expressions. "I thought I had been very clear," he begins, sliding into his usual calm cadence.

"You were," Jack responds simply, as if Enver's statement is a question, his eyes not leaving the book. The deadpan response itches under his skin while tugging at his throat; a tone he's heard many times before.

The Bhaalspawn's voice sounds a touch more gravelly, though the deep tenor remains otherwise intact. Jack had always looked shockingly... plain for being the son of Bhaal. He looked half elven, his black hair streaked with gun metal greys that have started to multiply in the time he has been away.

Jack clearly feels unconcerned when he should be very much so, because Enver is one word away from alerting his guard.

No. He should have patience, control.

"Then why," he turns his hand up, gesturing toward the assassin, "are you here?"

Perhaps more control than that.

Jack's eyes slowly look up from over the top of the book, the rest of his face tipping up a second slower to reveal more grey added to his goatee.

"When I... kill Orin," he rumbles these words softly, his expression shifting from placid to rage filled for only a split moment,"...I will need to make a decision. And I don't have enough information for it."

"And," Enver tips his head, still perturbed that Jack didn't seem to understand that he had threatened his life. "...I? Have this information you need?"

"You know me."

Jack states simply, leaning forward, letting the book fall closed and lowering it onto his thigh, all one easy and flowing movement, his expression becoming almost innocently earnest.

"Don't you?" Just like his movements, Jack's expressions shift strangely fluid on his face; the Banite had seen many different kinds on that face before. He could go from angelically placid to an intensely insectoid curiosity, gleefully bloodthirsty to feral rage, amused snark to heartbreaking melancholy. Jack's face lied as little as he did, and most would be downright disturbed by the sheer range of his truth.

Enver's own expression falls, discarding the mask of dangerous geniality for a more cold but uncertain one, arms crossing across his chest. "...I should kill you."

"You would be right to."

"Would I?"

"If you could catch me," Jack adds with a smirk, arrogance and playfulness on those lips.

The archduke let out a huff as he looks up at the ceiling, lips pursed as he genuinely considers the option.

Clearly Jack was looking for... Enver. Without looking for him. Through his memoir notes and ideological ramblings, the only connection he has to his past that wouldn't kill him immediately. To learn about himself.

His cold eyes come back from the ceiling to meet the Bhaalspawn's warm ones, letting the thoughts in his own mind refine into something verbal, buying himself time with a slow inhale.

"There was a... sort of game we used to play, you and I," he began, uncrossing his arms and stepping closer to the Bhaalspawn nearly at the same time Jack leans forward with earnest and intense curiosity, the cocky attitude all but fleeing.

"We would ask one another questions based purely on conjecture, with little to no context," he continues, his clawed hand gesturing between them.

"If the questions were spot on, then the other had to decide how to answer. What to say in order to find out how the other discovered their information. How much to feed into the other's ego. All while determining what more information to give."

Jack's eyes widened ever so slightly, head tipping an inch and with a slight snap to the movement, a glimmer of that insectoid curiosity. "And... you didn't lie?"

"Only as much as you did."

Jack stared, eyes flicking over Enver as if he were reading the muscles under his face and the pulse in his veins before smiling and smoothly leaning forward. "Alright. Let's play then."

The other man bows his head slightly, turning his hand in offer, "Beginners go first."

Something... too fast to read passes over Jack's eyes before an intense look of concentration took over. Once again he seemed to be looking under Enver's skin to the sinews underneath, though less with an intent to see more of him and more as the parchment to map Jack's own thoughts.

"...When we met, who did I kill?"

He chuckles softly at the question with a shake of his head. Not a good one by Jack's normal standard, but for this new person sitting in his bedroom... not bad. "No one except your butler."

Blinking once in surprise, Bhaal's scion sat back again, waiting for the other's question patiently.

It was a terrible question himself, but Enver had to quell his annoyance if this was going to continue.

"How did you get in," he asks with a touch more force than he intended.

Clearly Jack caught this annoyance and seems to find it amusing, but quickly relents the information. Reaching into his pocket he displays four empty vials held between the knuckles of his right hand. "Your steel watch need to scan for invisibility more often."

He knew the answer the moment the vials came out, rolling his eyes and straightening, "An issue with power output that I do not have the form factor efficiency to solve, yet." In simpler terms, he didn't have room for a larger engine or the means to make a smaller one equally powerful. Another annoyance, like a drop in the sea, but the quick and willing answer calmed the waves. He pauses, then lifts a clawed finger, "One moment."

The chosen of Bane walks back over to the larger, ornate chair just in sight of Jack's perch, wrapping a hand around the arm. A loud, screeching sound echoes around the chamber as Enver drags the chair to the bedroom area. Jack seems... hm. Amused? Exasperated? Delighted? At the action, or the result? He couldn't quite tell.

Either way, with the chair positioned facing Jack, he takes his seat, heel resting on the edge of the chair and one elbow propped on the arm. "Go on," he invites with a turn of his hand.

Jack's back straightens, his feet shifting to press the bottoms together and the sides of his knees flat on the floor in a butterfly like position. No loss of flexibility then.

Jack's question comes quicker this time. "What did my butler do that had annoyed me?"

That question gets a soft chuckle out of him.

#bg3 #bg3 fanfic #bg3 gortash #bg3 durge #durgetash #gortash x durge #OC: Jack Punch #Spotify

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gamesbyalbie · 10 months ago

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The Cursed Journey

PART 5: BRAINSTORM

FIVE YEARS AGO

"So, what are you working on?" Min-joon was at the stove. He wasn't using it—he was using the kettle—but I literally didn't have a counter in that apartment. What I had was a sheet of plywood laid across the stove's burners (I think that's what they're called, but that also seems a bit too on the nose).

I didn't cook—still don't—so the kettle lived on that plywood board along with a cup containing two sets of utensils, a pair of chopsticks, and one sharp knife. My mug and tea collection took up one shelf in my "kitchen", but the others had been repurposed for book storage.

I was sitting on my bed, leaning against a mountain of pillows and scribbling in a notebook. "Nothing good." I tried to erase a line so intensely that it ripped the page. "Ugh!" I tore it from the book, crumpled it into a ball, and threw it across the room.

"Dammit," I whispered, because—naturally—it missed the bin by at least half a meter.

Min-joon chuckled as he passed me a cup of tea. "Here."

"Thanks." I held the cup below my face, giving myself a mini steam facial and savoring the aroma. The tea was Earl Grey. Specifically, it was this kind with extra bergamot I could only find at a corner shop on Fifth. Min-joon had also used my favorite mug—but I don't think he knew that at the time. It was this lovely dark blue mug with the spines of Ursula K. Le Guin books wrapping around the body. I was shattered myself when it broke during my last move.

"Probably need to let it steep for a while." He advised, taking a seat on the foot of my bed. I noticed that he was stirring his drink with a fork.

"Why are you—"

"Both your spoons were dirty. Which—if I may add—is pretty pathetic. No self-respecting adult has less than three spoons."

"Fascinating." I murmur, face still hovering over my mug. "You assume I have self-respect."

He snorted. "Right. My bad." A smirk lanced across Min-joon's face. He gestured at me then vaguely at the rest of my studio. "I should probably judge this book by its cover."

"Asshole," I whispered affectionately. "So, what are you forking?"

Min-joon snickered. "Instant coffee."

I shivered. My face twisted into a visage of pure disgust. "I don't get how you stomach that stuff."

"It's good."

"It's vile."

"Well, if it's so gross why do you have it?"

"Because I knew you were coming." I responded and took a sip of my tea. "Mm." I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. "That's good." When I opened them again, Min-joon was staring at me. He hadn't moved and his coffee fork was still in his hand. He was just smiling. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

He tore his gaze away. "I've no idea what you're talking about." I rolled my eyes. "But, back to my question: what are you working on? 'Nothing good' is not an acceptable answer."

I sighed and set my mug on the window sill. "Fine." I went to toss him my notebook but he raised his index finger.

"Wait. Throwing is not our strong suit. Remember?" He pointed at the bin.

I rolled my eyes even harder but bent at the waist, placing the book in his outstretched hand.

"Thank you very much. And what am I looking at? A toddler's first attempt at writing?"

I yanked the book out of his hand. "If you're gonna be a dick—"

"I'm kidding." He took it back. "Your chicken scratch is mostly legible."

"Thank you, I know." I fully reclined on the pillows and crossed my arms over my head. "Anyways, I was working on that Greek myth retelling—the queer, cyberpunk one—but I'm struggling with some of the smaller plot points. So, I'm trying to come up with something new but I can't come up with anything good! The only cool ideas I'm getting are stories that no one else will be interested in and everything else feels dull and derivative."

"Okay." He took a sip of his coffee while flipping through my notebook. "Where's the problem?"

"What?" I sat straight up, hands slapping against my comforter. "What do you mean? It should be pretty obvious. I just said—"

"What you just said is that you have some cool ideas. Great! Do you feel inspired to write them?"

"Yeah, but—"

"Do they excite you?"

"Sure—"

"Then write them! I don't see a problem. Like, this—" He pointed to a hastily scrawled paragraph I'd almost ripped out yesterday. "This sounds really fucking cool."

"But it's... weird!"

"So? Weird is good! We're both weird. I write weird shit. And—if I may add—that's going pretty well."

"You are an exception."

"No, I am not. Not that it matters! People put too much emphasis on 'success', whatever that's supposed to mean." Min-joon sighed and tilted his head to the side. "Ody, why do you write?"

I deliberated for a moment, stripping away the dozens of reasons to find the core truth. "Because I love it."

"Then don't judge yourself based on what you assume others will think. Fuck everyone else. Write for you. Give yourself permission to love what you're doing and just do what you love."

"That's what you do?"

"It is now." He rubbed my hand with his thumb. "Ever since I quit. I mean, life gets in the way sometimes, but yeah. In general, I only do things I love."

"And what do I do when I hit another block?"

Min-joon shrugged. "There's no clear, universal answer to that. It differs for everyone, but I think people try to force themselves to write too much and beat themselves up unnecessarily. Only write when you feel like it. Take breaks. Try new things. Don't be afraid to stop, pivot, or start anew. I don't know." He trailed off. We were silent for a moment.

"Okay." I finally mumbled. "Well, thank you for the private lecture."

He was taking another sip when I said that and I'm pretty sure some coffee went up his nose as he laughed. "You're very welcome."

"So," I smirked, glancing at the paragraph he'd pointed to. "To summarize: in your professional opinion, I should go ahead and write weird shit."

"Fuck yeah." He smiled. "As long as you like it, the weirder the better."

End of Part 5 of ? • LAST PART • NEXT PART

More Cursed Journey • More by Albie • Image Source

The amazing music video that inspired this:

youtube

#writing #short fiction #draft #cursed journey #dpr ian #don't go insane #albie writes #part 5

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writingmysinsaway · 2 years ago

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It didn't happen

"It didn't happen", they say as if my years of torment are a figment of my imagination, as if the deep scars it left on my mind do not have a cause, as if the version of me that emerged from the pain didn't rise from the ashes of the old me and how I miss the old me because-

-because the old me could speak freely without stutters, her soul stayed in her body while mine temporarily leaves and I forget- I forget the last seconds, the last days, the last weeks, the last months, I forget time itself and it's passing like a river. Sometimes the current is strong and sometimes it's not and I'm getting pulled with it, never really being aware.

"It didn't happen", they say and they can walk away but I cannot because I cannot walk away from me, this new version of myself I have to live with but don't truly know, like a stranger whose flaws and personality I have to get to know all over again. I have been losing parts of me and gaining new ones.

"It didn't happen."

The newfound intensity of my emotions takes me down the rabbit hole, dragging me down to lows I have never experienced before, to a place where I am scared of myself for myself.

"It didn't happen."

My anxiety has been fed with each incident and it has been growing bigger, now it is so big that it clouds my intuition. My anxiety tries to act like a clairvoyant but really my anxiety is not and is trying to protect me from the worst outcome possible by preparing me for it and yet it damages me more than it does protect because I lack control in those scenarios.

"It didn't happen."

It has altered the way I view people and I am not sure if the new me could ever trust like the old me again. I've been stripped off the innocence and naivety that looks past the darkness just to find a speck of light in someone. Now I'm looking for the darkness in a person instead to not let it seep through me, because I know that the pretty is hiding the ugly underneath.

I also know that their darkness will make me relive the darkness of those I have already escaped.

"It didn't happen."

And for them it never happened. But for me it happened, it is happening and it will happen.

I am forced to relive and experience the past in the present and in the future, involuntarily time traveling as it comes back to haunt me, reminders of it hiding behind every corner.

"It didn't happen" as if the aftermath of it does not exist, as if my brain chemistry is not altered and not only do they refuse to acknowledge the victim but they refuse to acknowledge the crime. They refuse to acknowledge my reality which they seem to think can be bent or altered and I wish they were right so I could erase those parts myself; I wish I could.

"It didn't happen."

I wish it was that easy to change the narrative, but it's written and printed, a part of my book.

Even if you tear the page out, it would only create gaps but the plot that follows stays the same.

#hobby writer #writers and poets #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #writing #poetry #poem #poems and quotes #poetic #poets on tumblr #ptsd #cptsd #trauma #gaslighting

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hazyfaith · 2 days ago

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You Can Work Now... (2.5k)

Pairing: Mist/Cirrus CW: NSFW, lesbian sex, strap-on, cockwarming, semi-public (?). bent over a desk, on a chair.

Summary: As one of the only one able to understand Latin, Cirrus had been put on translation duty, taking much of her time. As she worked hard, her girlfriend started to see the exhaustion in her face, feeling the need to help her somehow.

Read on AO3: You Can Work Now...

A small lamp illuminated the pile of books and papers scattered in front of Cirrus, the only thing keeping her awake at this hour.

The Clergy had tried to teach Siblings of Sins and other ghouls Latin, but most had lost interest quickly, leaving only a handful of people with any knowledge on it. Cirrus was one of them. As she was one of the few who understood Latin to a great extent, she was mandated to read and translate books from the library to expand the knowledge of the monastery.

She had been flipping pages and scribbling down for hours, trying to get the meanings right. Half of the current book was erased as it had been sitting on a bookshelf, untouched for years, making it harder to translate.

Despite her eyes burning and her constant yawns, she pushed through and finished a couple more papers before calling it a night. Her focus was not the best, but it was strong enough for her to not hear the creaking doors.

After pushing the large wooden doors, Mist was first met with darkness, only a faint glow from behind multiple rows of shelves. As she went deeper in the library, the aggressive flipping of pages and the harsh scribble resonated in the empty room.

Soon she was faced with Cirrus’ back, hunched over her desk. Slowly, she made her way over. As her hand reached her back, Cirrus jumped in her seat and made a large diagonal scratch on the paper she had been working on. She let out a desperate groan, putting her head in her hands.

“I’m sorry Ci, I’ll rewrite it for you,” Mist reassured her, bringing her hand to the back of her neck, rubbing it.

Cirrus did her best to ignore the water ghoulette and regained her focus, but her eyes were having none of it. Her eyelids were getting heavier and she was blinking slowly. Shivers ran down her spine as Mist never stopped rubbing her hand on tender spots of her neck.

The air ghoulette sighed deeply, dropping her pen in the open book before closing it. She gently dropped her head on it, closing her eyes.

Both of Mist’s hands grabbed her shoulders, massaging them softly. Soon enough, Cirrus’ breath slowed down, and wheezes came out of her, almost as if she was snoring. Mist leaned forward, bringing her mouth to the tired ghoulette’s ear.

“I think you should go to bed now, gorgeous, what do you think?”

“Mhmm.” Cirrus’ exhaled. “I have to finish this before sleeping,” she whispered, almost inaudible.

“No, you’ll finish it tomorrow. You can barely keep your eyes open. C’mon, we’re going to bed.”

Mist ignored the protests and pulled the chair away from the desk, Cirrus keeping herself limp. She stepped in front of her, lowering herself to meet her girlfriend’s tired gaze. She reached forwards, reaching her arms under Cirrus, pulling her up on her feet. Cirrus didn’t have to stand up for long as Mist bent down to take her legs in her arm while the other stayed on her back, picking her up bridal style.

A yelp left the air ghoulette’s mouth. She was not used to Mist picking her up seeing that she was taller than her, but she quickly settled in. Her head dropped to the side and rested on her shoulder, her arms wrapped around her neck, her soft breath tickling Mist.

The way to Cirrus’ room was far from smooth, too many stairs for both of their comfort, but Mist made it without dropping her girlfriend, cradling her in her arms.

When she got to the air ghoulette’s room, she made Cirrus’ nudge the door open with her foot, before letting herself in. She lowered her on the bed before reaching over to her wardrobe, picking out some pajamas for the both of them.

After getting changed, Mist lied down on her back, pulling her girlfriend to her chest. Brushing her hair with her finger made Cirrus’ body melt on top of her. Her shoulders untensed and her breath slowed down, finally allowing herself some down time.

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

For the next three nights Mist found her girlfriend in the same spot in the library. Tonight was not really different.

As she walked down the usual library aisle, she didn’t see Cirrus immediately as she was not sitting in her usual seat despite the mess she made days ago still being there.

From the corner of her eye, she spotted her looking at books on a shelf a little further back. Mist thought of going up to her, but decided against it. Instead, she sat on the chair, watching her girlfriend with a smirk on her face. Cirrus’ eyebrows were knitted, her head sideways as she read the different titles. After finding the one she was looking for, she flipped through the pages, walking back to her spot.

As she arrived close to her seat, she extended her arm expecting to be met with a wooden chair. Instead, she made contact with the soft fabric of Mist’s uniform, startling her enough to lift her eyes from the book.

“Move please, I have to finish this,” Cirrus said, her tail flicking behind her in irritation.

“How about you sit in my lap instead? Mhmm?” She answered, a devious smile growing on her face.

Cirrus shook her head, a harsh sigh escaping her. “Come on, I really have to finish this before the end of the week,” she pleaded. The deadline was approaching and she was far away from having everything ready.

The water ghoulette didn’t answer, she rather put her hands on her girlfriend’s hips, pulling her infront of her lap so she was facing her back. She then forced her to sit down, a yelp coming out of the air ghoulette.

“See? It wasn’t that hard,” Mist whispered in Cirrus’ ear, sending shivers down her spine. Mist sneaked her right arm around the ghoulette’s belly, securing her. Her other hand went to her clothed thigh, her thumb rubbing ever so slightly against the soft fabric of her skirt. She rested her head on the taller ghoulette’s shoulder, her soft warm breath going down her neck. Cirrus had yet to move, still taken aback.

A couple minutes had passed, in silence as Cirrus’ focused on the book in her hands, before she made an attempt at moving. She pushed her hips back, only to be met with something hard against her. She turned her head with a frown, questioning what she felt, a low chuckle escaping Mist’s lips.

“I thought I could help you relax a little bit, but I see you are very busy… Maybe, I can still help? What do you think?” Mist asked, her voice low.

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe I could put my cock in you while you work? Hmm? That would help you relax, your shoulders are so tense, we can’t keep that going…” She purred, leaving soft kisses to her neck.

A heavy breath came from Cirrus as she searched into the water ghoulette’s eyes for any signs of it being a joke. Mist’s pupils were dilated; she was hungry.

After seeing the desire in her girlfriend’s gaze, she gave her a firm nod before standing up. Mist wasted no time to unbutton her pants and pull them down before scrunching Cirrus’ long skirt up. She ran her nails up Cirrus’ thighs in the process, leaving pinkish marks as Cirrus’ skin erupted in goosebumps. Mist pulled out her strap-on out of her boxers, then she reached out to Cirrus’ panties. She touched her lightly before pulling them to the side. With her index finger, she rubbed her clit before making her way to her wet hole, making Cirrus’ breath shudder.

Mist pulled Cirrus’ back down by her hips. As she lowered her down, she stopped as only the tip of her cock was in her dripping entrance. She rubbed the tip in between her folds, wetting her strap, which forced a strangled moan out of Cirrus.

Holding her cock in place, Mist pulled Cirrus down fully, her strap-on swallowed by her cunt. Cirrus’ head fell back, her breath becoming heavier as she was stretched out.

“Come on, love, you can do your work now,” Mist purred in her ears, her hot breath hitting her skin.

Cirrus took a couple seconds before straightening herself back up. The movement made a wave of pleasure run through her. Trying her best to ignore how full she felt, she picked up her pen and the open book in front of her, starting where she had left.

As she reached the end of the page, she realized she hadn’t written a single thing. A huff escaped her lips as she returned to the beginning of the page. She scribbled a few inaccurate words, unable to focus.

Mist was leaning back on the chair, her calloused fingers kneading softly at Cirrus’ hips, holding her in place. She watched her lover’s face carefully. The air ghoulette’s eyes kept fluttering, her gaze could not stay focused on the words for more than a few seconds.

Slightly lifting Cirrus by the hips, Mist shifted her hips, repositioning herself all while her cock was still buried deep in her girlfriend’s cunt. A moan left her mouth as she dropped what she was holding.

“You need to focus sweetheart, pick up the book and work. Wouldn’t want you to miss your deadline,” Mist teased, readjusting herself again, thrusting her strap even deeper.

“Oh fuck! Please, please Mist- Please fuck me!” Cirrus begged, her head down.

“You have stuff to do, you said-”

“I don’t care, I just- I need you, please,” she pleaded, grinding her hips down to create some friction.

As the sweet sounds coming out of her girlfriend’s mouth, Mist groaned and tightened her hold on her hips. She pushed Cirrus’ up by her waist, making her stand up and gasp as she felt empty. Mist shoved everything to the side of the desk and wasted no time to bend Cirrus over it, desire bubbling in her chest seeing her lover in front of her. She trailed her fingers down her clothed back legs before pulling her skirt down, pooling at her feet.

Mist brought her hips forward, meeting Cirrus’ soft round butt. She sneaked her hand down between the two of them, her middle finger parting her girlfriend’s wet labias as she reached for her clit. With the pad of her finger she made circles, rubbing the pink bud slowly, warming her up a bit before running her length in between her lips, coating her strap in her wetness. Cirrus hummed at the feeling, pushing her hips back as she wanted more.

In one swift motion she bottomed out, Cirrus moaned and her tail flickered at the feeling. Mist began with slow thrusts as Cirrus’ tail trailed up the short one’s leg. As she sped up, the desk shook, papers, books and pens falling on the floor amidst Cirrus’ whimpers.

The water ghoulette bent down too, her clothed breasts pressing against her lovers’ back, her head resting in the crook of her neck as she left small kisses and soft bites. As Cirrus came closer to her climax she gripped the edge of the desk tighter, so hard that her knuckles became white.

“Mist, I-I’m gonna-” Before she could finish her sentence, Mist pulled out completely, leaving Cirrus crying at the loss of feeling.

“I wanna see your face when you come,” she cooed as she peeled herself away, sitting back on the chair. She gripped Cirrus’ hips and spun her around. Looking up to her, she ran her hands under the air ghoulette’s shirt, groping at her tits. She toyed with her nipples, sweet moans leaving both their mouths. She was enjoying seeing her partner let loose for the first time in a while. She lowered her hands on Cirrus’ hips before pulling her to hover over her lap, lining her dripping pussy with her strap.

She pulled her down, keeping her gaze on her girlfriend’s face as she sunk her down on her cock. Cirrus’ eyebrows knitted, her eyes rolled, her head fell back as she felt herself being stretched again. Cirrus’ hands automatically flew to Mist’s back, one over and one under her shirt. As the strap filled her up, she dug her claws in her girlfriend’s skin, leaving red marks and pulling her closer. Mist saw it as an opportunity to resume her attack on her neck, kissing and biting it.

Mist’s mouth sent electricity through Cirrus’ body. The more she brushed her lips on her girlfriend’s neck, the more restless she became. The nibbling at her skin made her knees buckle, while Mist’s short hair tickled her jaw. The water ghoulette’s calloused hands roamed over her lover’s curves. Cirrus grinded her hips down, her clit repeatedly brushed against the base of the strap, loud moans falling out of her mouth.

“Shhh, shhhh… we wouldn’t want to get caught now, would we?” Mist whispered in her ear, prompting her to bite her lower lip, turning her moans into groans.

Giving Cirrus’ neck a final kiss, Mist pulled her up by her hips before lowering her down on her cock, setting a slow and steady pace. As she hit her sweet spot over and over again, Cirrus’ legs became shaky with pleasure, her tail wrapping around the water ghoulette’s legs to stabilize herself.

Mist’s tail reciprocated the action. It trailed up Cirrus, wiggling itself between the two ghoulette’ bodies, its tip settling on Cirrus’ clit, making her gasp. As it began rubbing it,her legs buckled at the feeling, a strangle moan escaping her mouth.

Warmth spread across Cirrus’ cheeks, down to her chest, a knot building in the pit of her stomach. She felt her pussy clench harder around Mist’s strap, her eyes fluttering and her head falling forwards on her girlfriend’s shoulder, panting heavily.

“Come for me sweetheart, you always work so hard you deserve it,” Mist murmured in her ear.

Arching her back, Cirrus came undone, Mist’s mouth automatically going to Cirrus’. As they were making out, Cirrus’ moans were muffled into the kiss, making sure no one could hear them. . Cirrus kept grinding down for a few more seconds, riding out her orgasm before pulling the strap out of her.

Cirrus stayed on Mist lap for a little longer, her head in the crook of her neck, getting her breathing under control. She started kissing her neck, sucking on a very sensitive spot, surprising Mist.

“Mhm, not now sweetheart,” Mist said, pushing her face softly away.

“But what about you? Don’t you wanna-”

“I had my fun watching you feel good, Ci. But if you insist then you can take care of me tomorrow…” she whispered suggestively, wiggling her eyebrows playfully. “How about we go take a warm shower and then bed? It’s late already and you still have so much work to do,” she teased, knowing she was at the root of the issue.

“I wonder why,” Cirrus said ironically. Mist chuckled before hurrying her girlfriend to get up, lifting her from her lap, ready to take care of her.

They showered quickly before ending up in Mist’s bed at Cirrus request, saying how much more comfortable her bed was. Not long after her head hit the pillow, Cirrus fell asleep, snuggling Mist.

#the band ghost #mist ghoulette #cirrus ghoulette #lesbian #mist x cirrus #cirrus x mist #the band ghost fanfic #ghost band fanfic #the band ghost fanfiction #ghost band fic #ghost band #ghost bc #nameless ghoulette #ghost the band #my writing

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pranilozabcufashion · 2 years ago

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Lookbook- Pages 3&4

For pages 3 and 4 of the lookbook, I had decided I wanted this double-page spread to be about the colour palette. sticking with the theme for the background I had found this red and black image of a flower in the wind and used it as a background, I wasn't fully able to fit it properly onto the full page so I had decided to place it at an awkward angle that I thought would seem decent enough, and had selected the empty part and used the content aware fill tool to artificially fill in the rest of the image, Photoshop was able to do this by taking parts of the image that wasn't selected and using AI was able to fill in the selected part, and the results had turned out amazingly.

I have then found a paper rip effect PNG image online and using the blend mode, setting it to Hard Light so that the whites would show more, erasing some of the dark parts underneath to give the page a sort of bent-over look, and I had placed it in the top right corner and filled the outer parts of the ripped image with black using the Paint Bucket tool giving the effect that part of the page had been ripped off I'd also had the idea of a hand coming out of the page as if something/someone was escaping the lookbook, and I was very happy with the results.

Next was the challenge of finding a creative way to represent the colour palette. we were given the task of having up to five colors for the colour palette which I had already chosen from the creative reset trend board and added one of my own, which I had chosen to be just harshly bright white, as well as replacing the black for a slightly different shade. and were given the choice to rename them which I had done; Luscious Red was Blood Red, Dark Cherry was Dark Ruby Red, Circular Grey was Gravestone Grey, I had replaced standard Black for a shade called Midnight Black, which I had renamed to Eternal Black and had added a shade of white which I had renamed to Cocaine White.

After brainstorming ideas for how I could represent the colour palette I decided to go with using Roses, as they can come in all sorts of colors and work well for this trend. I found different images of roses in different positions so im not using the same image representing each color from the pallet which would look repetitive and boring. I had also used the Color Selector tool to select each color from the palette on the WGSN website and save them onto a Swatches file so that I am able to use these colours whenever I want, as well as making it easier for me to access each color easily. After finding each rose image and placing them in the top left-hand corner, I had used the Selection tool to select a rose, created a new layer and use the Paint Bucket tool to click over the selection which would have each respective color on top of the rose image; I had then turned down the opacity as to not have the Rose image be taken over by the color, I then used the Blend tool and set it to 'Color' as to properly represent each color from the palette accurately and respectively. This process had taken quite a while for me to do as Roses do come in reds and whites so to accurately show the colors from the color palette and not have the original color of the Roses image impact the color palette was difficult, but I am happy I was able to overcome this.

Next, I had decided to add a grain effect over this DPS which I had then later decided I had wanted to be on every page of this lookbook, so I had gone back to the previous two spreads and use the same grain effect over them by simply clicking, dragging and dropping them while having them open on different tabs, I'd also add a text to this spread labeling each color respectively with the color palette name i had come up with, as well as having a small description about the colours are used in this trend.

Finally, for this double-page spread I had added images of more models that again represent what this trend would look like in-person, I had an image that showed a model in a revealing mesh dress/long top which sort of looked like blood had been dripping down from the neck which I was a fan of, but unfortunately the image did not show their face, however, I was able to overcome this by simply placing where their head would be by the hand that was coming out from behind the page. I also went through the same process I had with the other pages where I would use the Levels Adjustment tool to change the brightness and look of each image as well as using the Vector tool to get rid of the background and also have each and every layer be put in its respective folder. I had also found out about being able to lock layers/ folders so that once locked they are unable to be adjusted or moved this would make my work easier as once I am happy with the placement of certain images or text I can lock them so they are not interfered with If I'm wanting to change something else.

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thehomeofduck · 2 years ago

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Curse of the Fold | Chapter 8

Rating: Explicit (Violence, Sexual Content) Pairing: Daryl/Buck, M/M, Canon/OC

Wattpad || AO3 [Masterlist] || [Prev] || [Next]

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I let Dutch go at his own pace down the long road. It’d still be quite a while before we got back. Although I couldn’t count the minutes. Time really felt like nothing now. I only kept track of the days in my journal to remind myself. What was it again? The tenth. January 2011 to be exact. Only a year and a bit since the apocalypse started. At least an approximate. I couldn’t say for sure. Was just when it broke out into the media. And I definitely didn’t feel like doing the math.

I let my thoughts wander on random things, anything to keep me occupied. Or at least try to. It was easy to get bored.

I looked around me. Was just open fields, forests in the distance. I could see some silhouettes of walkers, but they were nowhere near close enough for worry. I just kept Dutch going.

Dutch grew slower, and I noticed him getting weary. Was time to stop for a break. I pulled lightly on his lead until he stopped. I slipped off the saddle on my side, making sure to catch myself on my good leg. He looked back at me.

“Come on.” I smile, taking his lead in hand and guiding him towards the grass. He quickly took the opportunity to flop down. I bent down beside him, grabbing a flat piece of rubber from his bag, pulling it until it took the shape of a bowl. I sat it in front of Dutch, filling it with water for him. He eagerly drank from it, pulling up bits of water with his tongue. I let myself drop down beside him, sitting back against his large body.

I looked at the bottle in my hands, taking a few sips of it. Setting it back down, I dug through the bigger bag of Dutch’s saddle. I pulled out my notebook and a case of pencils, opening my last blank page. I could journal now if I really wanted, but it was still midday. Why do it now when I could later? I never liked doing journals out of schedule. Always morning, and talking about the previous day.

I looked around me. Still just an open area. It’s like I was expecting something exciting to come up. Maybe I could draw a bit. I was never great at it, but I liked doodling landscapes. I shifted to face the side of the road. Leaning back on Dutch, I studied the tree in front of me.

There were little to no leaves left on it from the winter that passed. It was bare and I could see every branch that stuck out from it. Although, the more I looked, the more they started to blend in. Finding it harder to make out which was which. I grabbed a pencil from the case, sketching without much thought to it. Looking back and forth from the page and the sight in front of me.

I almost fell back as Dutch stood, walking off a bit to find a particular spot of grass that suited him. I grunt. The movement had made me scribble across the page. I turned the pencil, erasing to the best of my abilities without ruining the drawing.

I sighed, closing the journal and throwing it to the side. Why was I so.. mad about it? It was just a stupid little drawing. I rub my hands over my face. Emotions were messing with me, they were confusing, and I was having trouble figuring out why. I pulled my head up to look towards Dutch. He was munching on some grass below. He suddenly pulled his head up, ears pointed forward as he looked around.

Taking a look under him, I could see the shuffling of a walker come close. I just watched. I didn’t think to move or shoo Dutch away. Just watched.

Dutch’s ears lay back once he spotted the walker coming up on him, clearly not happy about the unwanted disturbance. He moved forward, trying to distance himself from it. The walker continued, determined and only driven by the smell of horse. Dutch gave out a squeal, a warning to it. But it paid no mind, not having the thought process to back off. Dutch stomped his hoof to the ground, kicking a bit with his back legs and moving a further ahead. It followed.

With another sharp squeal. Dutch raised his hind legs, kicking hard at the walker and sending it flying back. I watched it hit the ground; the head rolling far from where its body laid. Dutch huffed, turning back to quickly come to me. He nudged my head, and I held a hand on the side of his head.

I stared at the dead walker, not able to look away.

Dutch nudged me again. I took that as a hint to get up. I pulled my hand from him and got up, shoving my stuff back into his saddle. Grabbing the bowl, I squished it, filling the bottle back up with it to not waste water. As well as reminding myself not to drink from this bottle again.

Now, how to get back on him. I looked around, nothing I could drag over.

“Down buddy.” I pointed down. He watched my hand, pausing before moving to lie on the ground. “Good boy, you remember.” I pat his side, climbing over him. “Alright, now up.” I leaned over him, allowing myself to balance better. Dutch stood with ease and I held on so I wouldn’t slip off.

I led him back to the road, and we set off the rest of the way. Growing anxious as we approached further.

I could see the familiar forest covering the roads, knowing we’d soon be immersed back in nature once I passed that little auto shop. Dutch seemed more at ease now, happy that we weren’t near any walkers again. He gave a snort now and then. And I only returned with pats and cooed praises.

We hit the small town. If you would even call it that. Was more of a public stop for long trips. Filled with the necessary shops for those who pass, and a few houses for those who lived here. I looked down the road. I could see some walkers in the distance. Maybe a dozen, but more could’ve been lurking. And I wasn’t gonna risk my chances running into that horde of hundreds I first saw. I guided Dutch down the road until I found the forest trail, guiding him through.

The forest seemed much more empty. Relief swept over me, and I was more relaxed through the ride. Over the bridge, by the creek, down the trails, past the trail of dead walkers, and out to the main road. I looked to my left. The car was still there and stranded. The walkers were long gone, too. I took the time to check out the vehicle more.

Multiple bodies lay under it, stuck and keeping it up on a makeshift hill. Probably panicked, reversed, and ran too many over at once. I looked back up ahead, and walkers still coated the highway. I shuddered at the thought of going down there. Turning back, I kept with Dutch down the road.

As we traveled back, I heard the sound of a car. I turned a corner and could see the van Rick and Carol took previously not too far ahead. Must’ve come back from a side road. I directed Dutch into a canter, wanting to catch up.

The makeshift doors opened for the van and I quickly followed behind as walkers started to come close from the noise.

Rick stepped out from the driver’s side and both gave me a bit of a concerned look.

“The others are okay. They’re moving onto the next point.” I stated.

“Did you find anything good?” Rick asked.

“Found a lot at the university.” I pulled Dutch forward, letting them see the bags I had. “But still not everything we need. That’s why they continued. And Dutch couldn’t handle the long road.”

“Should bring it straight to Hershel. He’ll need it.”

I nodded, guiding Dutch over to the pens to let Rick and Maggie talk. I slid down Dutch’s side and pulled off his lead. Unhooking the bags from his saddle, I set them to the side. I pulled off his saddle next, grunting as I shoved it back onto the side of the fence. Dutch was quick to go greet Flame now that he was free. I picked the bags up again and made my way into the prison courtyard. Few people were out and most kept their distance from each other.

I walked down the empty halls, finding my own way to where quarantine was set. And somehow not getting lost.

I peeked in through the glass, seeing Hershel a bit in the distance. I waited until he looked my way and started to approach. Setting the bags beside the door, I stepped further back enough.

“Any luck?” Hershel asked as he opened the door.

“Mostly supplies for future problems. Things for surgeries. Antibiotics, painkillers, syringes, tubes.” I leaned back into the wall, watching as he pulled the bags in and shut the door most of the way. “Daryl and the others went further out to grab the rest of the supplies.”

“Good. Thank you for what you brought.”

I gave him a small smile and a nod. He ducked back in and shut the door.

I walked back through the halls, backtracking until I was outside in the courtyard. I ventured down to where Dutch and Flame were relaxing together. Pulling my journal back out, I looked through the pages until I found where I drew that tree. I sat back on a box and looked out to the gate of the prison. My hand moved on its own, starting to sketch each line of the towers, then the fences, and the gate itself.

My lines were messy and light, just trying to get a basic frame of it. I focused more on the page now, darkening lines and working on smaller details. I drew small light lines of the chain-link fence. They were too distant for a lot of detail. I worked on the grass next, adding light small lines in patches all across. I heard footsteps approaching, and I turned, closing my pages.

“Think you could come help me with the fences?” Rick approached, pointing off where a white truck was filled with wooden logs.

“Yea, sure. I’m not doing anything right now.” I stood, shoving the journal and case back into Dutch’s saddle bags.

Rick led me down the trail. I could see Maggie already working on some; grabbing logs from the back of the pickup truck, bringing them through the gated inner fences and wedging them between the ground and the chained fence.

“Just start chopping them, seven-eight feet wide, doesn’t have to be perfect.” Rick explained. “I’ll be down helping Maggie with the rest, then we’ll pull the truck up to grab the rest you do.”

I only nodded, watching as he walked down further. I looked at the large logs in front of me. Most were around fifteen feet long, just had to chop them in half. The rest, I’d compare and split open. We’d probably use it for firewood or whatever other makeshift things we’d come up with.

I grabbed the larger logs, setting them up in a pile and moving the smaller ones to their own group. Rolling one forward with my foot, I grabbed the axe that stuck out from another log. I searched along it for an approximate middle, chopping down on that one part.

It was a few minutes and a few logs later that I heard the vehicle approach me. I watched as Rick and Maggie emerged and they picked up the logs I had already cut, moving them into the trunk.

“I can take over so you can have a break.” Maggie stepped forward, holding out her hand. I handed her the axe, stepping away. She quickly continued where I left off.

We all froze, hearing the faint sound of a gunshot.

#the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl twd #fanfiction #ao3 #ao3 fanfiction #oc x canon #twd #twd fanfiction #daryl dixon x oc #daryl/buck #daryl x buck #Duck #no beta read #Curse of the Fold

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kyberphilosopher · 3 years ago

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Reverse Flash

A backwards version of your favorite speedster comes searching for Barry, only to find you instead.

Word Count: 2403 Warnings: Crude Humor. Not proof read yet because I’m too tired.

As per my latest fics, the gender of the reader is not specified.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Barry was always nice to you.

Well, Barry was nice to everyone. I mean, his parents named him Barry. He was set up for a life of cheekiness before he was even born. But Barry was nice to you even after ‘the incident’. Barry was nice to you when everyone else stopped. On top of that, Barry was being nicer to you than usual lately.

Probably because he and Iris were having a rough spot.

That was the only annoying thing. Barry liked you, and he was interested in you, but you were still second place. He was just using you. He wouldn’t marry you, or feel a deep longing for you. He’d just take you on ice skating rink dates in the winter and give you the best Valentine’s day of your life every year. Which is everyone’s dream, you guess, but it wouldn’t have been genuine, no matter what Barry managed to convince himself.

Barry’s little support team seemed to be on the same page as you (which was a first), which both added to and subdued your aggravation. All of them were in agreement of the simple fact: you were no good for Barry. Mr. Flash was the only one who didn’t seem to get the memo.

In the very beginning, things weren’t like how they were now. Team Flash or whatever the name was considered you good colleague, and they trusted you because Allen trusted you. You had been friends with Barry longer than anyone else there. And of course you were smart, and you handled annoying journalists and incriminating footage like it was nothing. But then you’d suggested using lethal force to subdue one of the Flash’s biggest problems. That’s when the air changed. That’s when people decided you should not now, not ever go on a date with him. It would throw off the whole rhythm of the team, probably Barry’s morals and possible the timeline. Lucky you.

Though flat out rejecting Barry might make it worse. You had been irritable lately. Maybe a little more sarcastic than normal. What if you snap, and then the team snaps too? And sweet little Barry is too kind to tell you off? God, you knew you were the worst, but the thought alone seemed like more than just ‘the worst’. It was like a tornado of stinky shit just barreling toward you, somehow simultaneously faster than the speed of light and slower than a turtle filled with rocks for organs.

And it was all definitely Barry Allen’s fault.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

So, that’s why you’re here now. Stuck with watching Headquarters while all the speedsters go out and... speed. Who knows. You’re out of the loop with the whole... speed demon thing. You’re pretty sure they have a group chat without you. Fuckin’ nerds.

Your legs are stretched out to the desk in front of you. They cross over each other at the ankles, to the left of the big computer monitor that’s supposed to display the heartbeats of the team but is instead displaying something from cartoon network. A near empty bag of Chinese food sits at your side, it’s contents littered across the table.

As you chew, you look around the room. Several suits in display cases curve against the wall in a half circle, illuminated by blue light. Some are burgundy, some are silver, and some are golden. And you could smash every single one of them right now.

But you won’t, and you don’t. Not to say it isn’t tempting- it is. You still don’t touch the suits.

God, what’s been wrong with you recently? Barry was your friend, and yet you’d been so annoyed with him. His flirting had only made it worse. Wally wasn’t any better. He got even more annoying once thinking about how childish, yet powerful he was. All the Kid Flash’s were just temporary brats that never stayed, whether you liked them or not. And Iris wasn’t a fan of you. That was fine, because you weren’t exactly a friend of Iris’s either. So the most important part of your life that literally depended on superhuman existence and stopping crime was teetering because of pure social discomfort. Typical.

You’re watching the screen that serves as the closest light in the room as you shovel the next bite of rice between your lips. Neon colors make the shadows across your face feel alive and electric. It makes the glow in your eyes more prominent, encouraged by the childish nature of the media. You’ve just finished a snarky personal comment and given yourself another bite of rice when he appears to you.

He looks like Barry. The only difference is that he’s the complete opposite.

Instead of scarlet, his speed suit is yellow with red and dark grey accents. They remind you of blood lightning at the seams. Even under his half mask, he seems so familiar but so much more defined than your friend. As he exits the slice of colorful air and thunder, the heels of his shoes skidding across the floor, the red glow in his eyes settles into a calmer thrum.

And you’re still frozen in place, eyes wide as you still yourself mid chew.

The yellow speedster settles his orbs on you. They’re intelligent, and in the reflection of the little light in the room you can see they’re not red, but blue. And you? You’re just a deer in the headlights.

“Aw, you’re not Barry,” he groans in disappointment, standing straighter as his arms cross over his chest.

You finally continue your chewing, keeping your wide eyes on the intruder. Then you swallow it down. In your chest, your heart thump, thump, thumps with something. Fear? Not quite. Anxiety? Almost. It’s something else. Something more... intuitive. And the way this man looks at you makes you think that he can hear it, even from where he stands. That he knows.

“Uh... no?”

The man responds not a millisecond after you’ve gotten the words out. “Where is he? Where’s Barry Allen?”

Woof. His voice is throaty and laced with sarcasm, even though he’s clearly deathly serious. But the vibrations send a funny spasm straight to that little place between your legs, making the nerves in your spine dance with alertness. Arousal. Barry was never able to do that, let alone with just the sound of his voice.

“Doing something?” you decide. “I don’t know.”

The golden man cocks his head to the side, almost smirks, and takes a step forward. “Hey, I know you.” His arms uncross. One raises and bends to point at you. “You’re Barry’s tech support. I remember reading about you in his museum.”

Your brows furrow. Hurriedly, you clear the take-out box from your lap and begin wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. You drop your legs from their position on the desk to their normal position on the floor, knees bent. “Uh... I beg your pardon?”

“Yeah... Y/N L/N. Now I see it.” The man leans back on his heels and looks around the room. The red glow in his orbs burn away completely so it’s just him. “Ah, so this must be before you defected, huh? Interesting.”

“Pardon?!” you call again. Now you’re sitting forward, disbelief across your face.

Golden speedster smiles. It looks evilly distorted, even though it’s just a normal smile. It curves his face sarcastically. His hands fly upwards as if in surrender. “Don’t shoot the messenger, Y/N. You know actually, you’re kind of a villain in my time. This is nice for me.”

“Great, I’ll tell Barry when I see him,” you bite.

“Thank you, sweetheart. Now how about you tell me where Barry is before I erase you from existence.”

“I don’t know,” you repeat as the quick bolt of fear fizzles from your system. Your eyes trail down to his chest for just a quick second, but it’s quick enough to observe yet another difference between your familiar scarlet speedster and him. The circle surrounding the lightning bolt on his chest is facing the opposite direction, red, and that circle is filled with black. It’s as if he were the complete opposite of Barry. A reverse Barry.

“Yeah you do. Come on.”

You blink once, still in your roll-y chair.

You’re not sure what to do here. On one hand, this guy radiates pure evil. You should really alert Barry or one of the other members of Team Flash. But for one reason or another you’ve made no attempt to. You’ve got no clue who this dude is other than the fact that he seems more inclined to rip the fabric of time apart than anyone else. There’s no doubt in your mind he really will erase you from existence if you make one wrong move. But what’s the wrong move?

On the other hand, Team Flash has been a bunch of dickhead’s to you. Barry has been ironically slow to the whole thing. Would it be so bad if you did make a wrong move? Not for you, but for your friends? They’d all die, wouldn’t they? This yellow one would end them, and then what? Would it really be so horrible for you? You can’t imagine mourning much.

“I don’t,” you say again, slowly. “They’re in the city. I don’t know where.”

The man seems to think for a moment, cocking his head back so the light behind the glass cases catches his sharpened features. “Hmm.”

Without even blinking, now he’s in front of you. So close, you can smell him. It’s not terribly strong, it’s just masculine. But it’s also flowery, with a dash of sweat from running. And then there’s something more. Something... metallic?

Both his hands clutch the arms of the chair beside you, trapping you as you lean back reflexively. “Did you know that I killed Barry’s childhood best friend before he was born?” the man says lowly.

On instinct, you prepare yourself to say, ‘Barry doesn’t have a childhood best friend’. Then you realize why.

He continues. “Would you tell me where Barry was if you did know?”

You don’t even think about it. You’re true to your nature. “I don’t know, would I?”

Blip! You wait to burst into a cloud of nothingness. To never have been born or even get to be a ghost. But fifteen seconds later you’re still alive. And from the way Barry talks about being a Flash, fifteen seconds is a long time for someone of that caliber.

The man is back by the cases of suits now. You can see his muscles through his suit. They’re more defined than Barry’s, thank God.

“I think you would. But it’s gonna be hard to do that when you’ve got my fingers vibrating into your skull.”

“What?”

“It’s going to be hard to speak when my fingers are inside you.”

You cup a hand against your ear. “Huh?”

“I said-” The man stops. His eyes narrow, arms crossing over his chest once more. “Oh, I see.” A short, dry- but genuine- laugh falls from his throat. “Very funny. Very, very funny.”

Suddenly, your eyebrows crease together in confusion. You place both palms on the arms of the chair for leverage as you push yourself into a stand, as if stirred by some great, important purpose. “Wait. Did you say you were going to stick your fingers inside me?”

“I knew you and I were the same,” he drawls. He sounds entertained. As if in his eyes, missing Barry and meeting you instead was the best outcome he could’ve hoped for.

“Can’t you just...” Your shoulders slump as you glance around. “Just kill Barry and get on with it?”

“Aw, no. This is far more interesting.”

“Fingers in my skull...?” you whisper, half to yourself. Then you look up to him with a snap. “You are so weird,” you tell Reverse Barry, emphasizing it with a low point. “So weird.”

“Want me to tell your future?”

Again with the voice and the nerves in that special place.

“I gotta say, it’s kind of disturbing,” the man smirks. “You’ll love it.”

“Weird.”

Across the base, just two hallways away, something clicks. It’s a familiar click. It’s the click of the door opening.

Quickly, you glance backwards, then lean down to pause the show on the computer. You hadn’t even realized it was still going. Once that’s done, the man is still standing in front of you. That sinister and yet innocent grin is still dancing across his face, though his steely eyes are totally locked on you.

“What, weirdo? You know where he is now. Aren’t you gonna go get him?”

“You want me to so badly, don’t you?” Reverse Barry whispers. You just give him a look.

“I’ll be back for you.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

And then the speedster is gone. Right on time, too, cause Barry jogs into the room not a second later.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?” you turn around.

“Did I just... see someone here?” Barry points towards your end of the room in his scarlet suit. Huh. Reverse Barry was taller too.

“What are you on about?” you throw casually. “Nobody’s been here but me since you left.”

“Are you sure?” the Flash keeps pushing. You hate it. Pushing.

“Yes, Barry,” you roll your eyes. “I’m sure. Oh, by the way, Barry. Did you have a childhood best friend?”

Barry frowns. “No, why?”

You smile to yourself as you turn back away from him. The other speedster’s footsteps are coming closer and closer. You can hear them echo off the walls.

“No reason,” you answer with a smirk just as one of them enters the room, probably to give you crap again.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Fun fact, Reverse Flash is actually my favorite villain in DC comics. Bro is vicious in the comics. I just hate all the live action versions of him we get. Lego DC Villains Reverse Flash and Injustice 2 are the best versions. Injustice 2 is my personal preference. I’d like to do more with this but, who knows. Depends how this is received. #lol

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mizunetzu · 4 years ago

Note

wait okay i have so many ideas you have no clue- okay so basically y/n is too scared to confess to either ushijima or shinsou (you decide lol) so he just puts love notes in his locker :)) but ushijima/shinsou catches him one day so he teases him about it but he liked y/n too so he lowkey confesses and its super fluffy i- 🥺🥺 i've had this idea for so long but i have no clue where to start writing it myself lolll

Guess who...took 4 months...to do Mr. Shinsoussimps request...not me...ahahaha...what are you talking about...BUT ANYWAYS IM SO SORRY MR SHINSOU PLS TAKE THIS FIC AS MY APOLOGIES

——————

Ushijima x reader - Secret Admirer Love Letter-kun!

⚠️warnings - none

Pronouns- male, he/him

——————

(Y/n’s) hands shook as he traced the linings of his love letter.

It had a red, heart-shaped sticker on the seal flap, with the words ‘To Ushijima-san’ written in royal purple across the back. The letter had slight crinkles from the shaky grip (Y/n) held it with.

His heart raced purely thinking about how Ushijima would react. Would he even react? Or would he just look at him with that blank stare and walk past him? Would he be ridiculed for being a man giving a love letter to another man?

Every single intrusive thought made (Y/n) want to tear up the letter and flush it down a toilet. Nonetheless, he stood next to Ushijima’s locker, waiting for him to appear.

His legs shook. His heart felt like it was going to explode out of his chest. He could physically feel the sweat running down his forehead. He was probably gaining stares from other students for standing near Ushijima’s locker and panicking silently.

All these ‘what-if’s’ was beginning to make (Y/n) second-guess his decision. Maybe he couldn’t do this after all...

No! He had to! He’s been harboring his feelings for Ushijima for years now, and he was getting nowhere! Even if it was rejection, and he certainly hoped it was not, he needed an answer!

Just as if right on cue, (Y/n) heard the familiar deep voice of Ushijima coming down the hall. He wasn’t saying much, but the accompanied grunts of acknowledgement to Tendou’s ramblings was enough proof it was him. Without thinking, (Y/n’s) panic took over him, shoving his love letter into Ushijima’s locker and dashing out of the way.

He blended himself in with the gaggle of students near their lockers, watching Ushijima as he opened his own locker.

“Ara?” Tendou cocked his head when the letter (Y/n) slipped in fluttered out. It landed on the floor gracefully. Ushijima bent over and plucked it off the ground.

“Our Wakatoshi~kun has a secwet admiwer?” Tendou squashed his face together and boared curious eyes into the heart-shaped sticker on the note. Ushijima grunted.

“It seems to be a love letter.” Ushijima’s low voice sent even more panic through (Y/n). He didn’t want to be there while he opened the letter. But here he was, 10 feet away from him as he carefully peeled off the heart sticker from the envelope.

Ushijima’s eyes silently scanned the letter, it’s meticulous, thought-out writing filling Ushijima’s eyes. The silence rang so, so loud to (Y/n), as he watched Ushijima read his love letter with his emotionless face.

After what seemed like forever, Ushijima lifted his head up from the note. (Y/n’s) heart stopped.

“It is a love letter.” (Y/n), and Tendou, deadpanned.

Tendou reached for the letter. “Fiiiiine, then let me see-!”

Ushijima pulled the letter away, raising it above his head and out of Tendou’s easy reach. He lowered the letter and cradled it to his chest.

“No. It’s mine.”

(Y/n’s) heart fluttered. Could this mean-?

“But it does, however, have no name.”

“Awh. Poor Wakatoshi-kun’s admirer must be rewwy shy~”

(Y/n) internally facepalmed. Of course he forgot to sign the note! Why wouldn’t he?! (Y/n) crinkled up his nose. He was still determined to get his feelings to Ushijima.

He turned around, and walked to class. The next day, for sure, he was going to give him a love letter with his signature on it this time.

——

(Y/n) stared down at his paper, then shifted his eyes to the alarm clock sitting tauntingly at his dorm room’s desk, with the bright red numbers 10:35 pm glaring so menacingly at him. Like it was telling him to hurry up and sign the new love letter he just wrote. (Y/n) re-read the letter on his desk for the 6th time that night.

Everything was perfect. It explained his feelings perfectly, explained how long he’d been smitten for him for, hell, he even doodled a small picture of Ushijima himself with a heart next to it in the corner of the page.

Everything was there, except his name.

Did he really want to put his name, though? I mean, (Y/n) saw how...endearing Ushiwaka’s face looked reading his original letter. What if he ruined that when he finds out it was him who wrote it? And not some cute girl?

(Y/n) stared at the empty space on the page where his name was supposed to go. His hand gripped his pencil tighter than he should’ve, and began to write.

‘(L/n) (Y/...’

He stopped. (Y/n) thought about it for awhile, then grabbed his eraser and scrubbed at the name until it was pristine white again.

‘Your secret admirer’

Was all he wrote.

He packaged up the note in another small envelope, pressed a cute little heart sticker to the flap, and went to bed.

——

The next day, (Y/n) made sure to rush to school early to slip the note in his locker. He wanted to see his reaction to his new note. It made him feel sorta high. What kind of face would he make? Would he be delighted? He hoped he would.

(Y/n) crammed the note into Ushiwaka’s locker. No one was around. Good. No one saw him shove the letter through, therefore no one could tell Ushijima it was him. (Y/n) sighed contently, and timpered off somewhere secluded, but somewhere he could still see Ushijima and his locker.

After scrolling on his phone for what seemed like an hour, he heard Tendou’s familiar voice, humming a strange song and trailing next to Ushijima. It was his daily indicator that Ushijima was near. If he could hear Tendou coming, almost 100% Ushijima would be there too. (Y/n) pocketed his phone quickly and peeked behind a row of lockers.

Ushijima silently unhinged his locker, listening to Tendou talk. However, they fell silent when another letter fluttered out from his locker, this time landing so perfectly in his hands.

“Ara ara? Another note from Admirer-chan?”

“Yes. But I know it’s a boy, Tendou.”

(Y/n’s) heart dropped. He watched as Ushiwaka peeled off the heart sticker once more, while continuing his conversation with Tendou.

“Oh yeah? How so?”

Ushijima stopped, and reached into his locker once more. He pulled out (Y/n’s) previous note, and pointed to a line of text scribbled on there so neatly. Tendou raised his eyebrow, and leaned down to inspect the note.

‘-Besides, there’s no way someone as amazing as you can like a guy like me. It’s weird right? I hope you don’t think it’s weird. But I wouldn’t blame you.’

“Ahhhh~ makes sense...” Tendou hooked his arms dramatically over the back of his head. “But do you? Does Wakatoshi-kun think Secret Admirer-kun is weird?”

Ushijima traced the two love letters with his eyes. “I think he’s brave.”

(Y/n) clutched his tightening chest. It suddenly became really hard to breathe. How was Ushijima being so unintentionally sweet?

Tendou cooed. “Awwww, Is our Wakatoshi-kun catching feelings for his Admirer-kun?”

Ushijima folded the two notes back into their envelopes silently. He said nothing to Tendou’s remarks, while gently placing the two love letters back into a safe spot in his locker.

(Y/n) brisk-walked away, flustered, before he could hear his answer.

——

Writing notes and hiding them in Ushijima’s locker became a sort of habit for (Y/n) in the past few weeks.

Every now and then, he’d write a short love letter signed “Your Secret Admirer” or “Admirer-kun” and slip it under Ushijima’s dorm room door or the cracks between his locker. It became an addiction of watching him unravel the note with the tenderness of an angel. For such a big dude, he held each love letter (Y/n) wrote him with such delicacy.

(Y/n) walked with a pep in his step as he arrived to the school building early, like he’d usually been doing. He’d recently been writing small letters, playground compliments like “I think you look nice today!” or “the way you play volleyball gets me all fired up!” but this was the first time in a while he wrote a good chunk of his feelings out.

At first he thought he would make Ushijima uncomfortable, but after many of his personal notes filled with the most wonderful explanations of his feelings, or rambling about dates he’d like to take him on, he’s grown more comfortable with it. Especially after seeing the teeny tiny, barely noticeable blush tinting his cheeks as he read them.

(Y/n) stopped in front of Ushiwaka’s locker. It was a familiar stop, after cramming in letter after letter inside for about a month or two now. It’s been so long that (Y/n) couldn’t even remember himself.

Just as his hand met with the cold metal locker to slip the note in, two hands slammed down on (Y/n’s) shoulders, effectively scaring him shitless.

“I’ve caught you! Secret admirer-kun!”

“Uwaaaah!”

Tendou made a show of flamboyantly pointing his lanky fingers at (Y/n), bending his back father then (Y/n) knew was possible in the process. (Y/n) jittered, swinging his hands in front of him while stuttering incoherently.

“I-it-its not-! It’s not wh-what it-! T-the letter-I was just-I-!”

“There’s no use for it now, Secret-Admirer (L/n)-kun! You’ve been caught red handed!” Tendou stuck his tongue out heartily while (Y/n) broke into a cold sweat. If Tendou kept yelling the whole damn school would hear him.

“I-I’m not the one leaving notes in Ushijima-kun’s locker! I was just-!”

“Oya? Then how did you know Wakatoshi-kun was gettin’ notes in his locker in the first place?” Tendou eyed him down half jokingly. (Y/n) sputtered.

“More importantly...” Tendou dramatically pointed to the envelope half-sticking out from the slits of Ushijima’s locker. “Whaaaaats that!?”

“That’s-!”

There was no use fighting Tendou on this. (Y/n) deflated, defeated and grasping on to the wall of lockers for support. “Uuuuu...”

“So, Secret Admirer-“

“S-stop calling me that! Just (L/n) is fine-!”

“-Secret Admirer-kun, what made you fancy our lovely Wakatoshi-kun?”

(Y/n) turned around, facing the locker as Tendou smiled his usual, Tendou-grin. (Y/n) didn’t wanna look at Tendou and his stupid knowing smirk.

“He’s just...I dunno, he’s just so-cool...and stuff...and he’s so nice...looking...”

“Ah, such sophisticated words-tell me, do you write all of this down in the letters you give him?”

“Hey!” (Y/n) whipped his head around.

Tendou chuckled, and part of (Y/n) wanted to smack him upside the head. Tendous laughter eventually died down, as he pretended to wipe a tear from his cheek. He looked back at (Y/n), who was blushing profusely and had his arms crossed.

“Phew...haha...” Tendou cleared his throat. He pointed straight at (Y/n). “Now, here’s some ultra wise words from Satori-sama!” He mimicked a fake drum roll on his lap, before pointing at (Y/n) again.

“Ja-jun~! You should Wakatoshi-kun how you feel about him!”

(Y/n’s) heart got stuck in his throat. “A-are you crazy! I could never! I-I’m not...I’m not...I’m scared..”

“Hm? But you’re not scared to write about how much you wanna kiss him alllllllll oveeeeeer-?”

“That’s different!” (Y/n) yelled, more quietly this time. He turned back to the locker, and tipped the rest of the note in sticking out inside the slit. The note disappeared through the gap, just like all of its predecessors. “Like this, I can tell him how much I love him without him knowing it was from me! What if he’s disappointed it’s me and not some other dude?”

“I’m veeeeeery sure he won’t be. But suit yourself, I guess.” Tendou shrugged. He turned around and left, but not before saying,

“But you’d better tell him yourself before he finds out from someone else.”

“Wait-what does that mea-“

(Y/n) looked back, only to find Tendou gone. (Y/n) stood there, perplexed, before dashing off to his own locker, so he wouldn’t be spotted near Ushijima’s.

——

Everyday when (Y/n) went to slip another note into Ushiwaka’s locker, Tendou’s words would ring in his mind.

‘You’d better tell him yourself before he finds out from someone else.’

He knew that. He knew that but he couldn’t stop himself from cowardly slipping notes into Ushijima’s locker, just to run and take cover as he opened them up. And one time he could swear Tendou was looking right at him in his hiding spot when Ushijima was reading one of his letter.

(Y/n) shook the thoughts from his head. That happened 3 days ago, and nothing happened. Tendou was probably just trying to scare him into telling him. Yeah. There’s no way anyone could’ve found out about him being Ushijima’s secret admirer.

He huffed and strode up to Ushijima’s locker, just like he did every time before that. No one was in the hallway. There was no footsteps, at least to (Y/n’s) knowledge, and Tendou wasn’t around with his booming voice. If (Y/n) could hear Tendou coming, chances are Ushijima was not too far behind.

Tendou wasn’t there. (Y/n) was safe. He smiled and rose the letter up to the slot in Ushijima’s locker. He slowly crammed the note in, slowly, slowly until-

Slam!

A large, calloused hand slammed against the locker, making (Y/n) jolt up in surprise. (Y/n’s) heart stopped beating. He felt someone lean against his ear, and then they whispered:

“So Tendou was right. You were the one leaving the letters in my locker.”

“Ushijima-kun-!”

(Y/n) whipped his head around by the speed of lightning, pressing himself against the locker wall as if he’d disappear into it. Stupid fucking Tendou! Of course he’d tell Ushijima!

Ushiwaka didn’t move from his spot in front of (Y/n). His arm outstretched on the wall beside (Y/n) didn’t falter either, making him blush even more. God, he wanted to disappear.

The letter, now hidden crudely behind (Y/n) sweaty back, was being smushed as he tried shrinking in on himself.

“I-I-“ (Y/n’s) mouth ran dry. “It’s not what it looks like-!”

“Hm.” Ushijima’s deep voice manage to startle (Y/n), despite being right infront of him. God, he was close. So close. He’s too close. Oh god, why is he so close?

Ushijima suddenly grabbed (Y/n’s) hand, making him sputter in surprise as Ushijima pulled it out gently. A letter with a red heart sticker on the flap was wedged in between (Y/n’s) shaky, sweaty fingers. Ushijima looked at the envelope, while (Y/n) averted his embarrassed eyes.

“...But it’s exactly what it looks like.”

Words perished in (Y/n’s) throat. If the locker would just open up and swallow him whole, now was the time.

Ushiwaka plucked the note out of (Y/n’s) hands, ignoring the small protests of (Y/n) himself. He tried to grab for the letter, but Ushijima held the envelope high above his head and grabbed at (Y/n’s) shivering wrists. (Y/n) squeaked.

“...why are you trying to grab it back if this letter was meant for me in the first place?” Ushijima looked oblivious to (Y/n’s) embarrassment. (Y/n) croaked. He didn’t even register what Ushiwaka said with how strong and warm his grip on his wrists were.

He didn’t realize Ushijima managed to peel off the heart sticker and fish out the note with his hand until he started reading the letter. His eyes scanned the words, even when (Y/n) quietly squirmed protestingly in his grasp.

“Mm.” Ushijima hummed. (Y/n’s) eyes widened when he realized what he wrote in today’s note.

‘Y’know, I think you’re really cool with how you’re so dedicated to your club. But maybe...one day we could grab a bite to eat after your club activities? Just you and me? And maybe if I’m lucky enough I just might get a kiss from the amazing Ushijima Wakatoshi-kun~’

(Y/n) wanted no more but to die then and there. Ushijima looked at (Y/n) with an unreadable gaze.

“Ah. So it seems in today’s letter, you would like to go out for food and kiss. I am free after club activities today at 6. Are you free at that time or must we reschedule?”

(Y/n) met Ushijima’s state with a confused face. He said nothing-he couldn’t say anything. All he could do was muster up a weak “w-wha..?”

“So...you are not free today...?” Ushijima’s face was normal, but he gave off the same vibe a sad, kicked puppy would. It was sorta cute. (Y/n) waved his hands around frantically in Ushijima’s grasp.

“N-no! That’s not it! I-I’m free! I’m totally free! I just-“

“You just what?” Ushijima cocked his head to the side bluntly. (Y/n) opened his mouth to say something, but let it clamp shut quietly.

(Y/n) averted his gaze. “Well...you don’t think it’s...weird that I was the one leaving you love letters?”

“But I already knew you were a man in the first place.”

“Still!” Ushijima was genuinely confused. (Y/n’s) voice died down a bit.

“Aren’t you...y’know...disappointed?”

Ushijima’s gaze never left (Y/n’s) eyes. “Why would I be disappointed?”

“I’m...w-well...it’s just...”

Ushiwaka placed his free hand on the other side of (Y/n’s) face, effectively trapping him in between his arms. Ushijima’s heavy gaze was too much to bear. (Y/n) instinctively averted his gaze away.

“You still haven’t given me a valid reason to be disappointed.”

“I-“

“You’re lovely, I believe you are very attractive, and you leave nice letters of encouragement in my locker everyday.”

“Wait-“

“I believe we both have feelings for each other. Therefore, I do not see why you are so hesitant on just doing what today’s lovely note said.”

“Ushi-“

“Is this just an excuse to turn me down? Were the letters not your true feelings? Because if so you just have to say so-“

“Ushijima-kun!”

(Y/n) rasped out between his fingers. He was covering his blushing face, and Ushijima didn’t know why until he realized his face was centimeters away from (Y/n’s). If it weren’t for (Y/n’s) hands cupping his face, they’d probably be able to kiss with one push closer.

“P-ple-please s-step back...”

“Oh. Sorry.”

Ushijima moved back, but didn’t quite move his arms from their positions on either side of (Y/n). He blinked. Silence engulfed them both, Ushijima bluntly staring at (Y/n) as he blushed and blushed into his hands.

Ushijima figured he should say something, and even open his mouth to speak when (Y/n) suddenly piped up, bringing his hands down from his face.

“I-I’m free...at 6...”

Ushijima blinked again.

“Ah. Today?”

“Yeah..!”

“Lovely. It is decided then. Will you wait for me at the gym after practice? If not I can pick you up from your dorm room.”

(Y/n) fought the urge to pinch his arm to see if he was dreaming or not. “I-I can meet you at the gym!”

Ushijima smiled gently, and that’s probably the first time (Y/n’s) seen him smile ever. It was so coaxing, relaxed and warm, (Y/n) wanted to take of picture of it and just stare at it for days. Ushijima let his hands fall to his sides. Not before giving a pat to (Y/n’s) head.

“It is decided then. It’s a date.”

(Y/n) had to remind himself to thank Tendou later.

——————

Lowkey this was so fun to write~ why don’t y’all leave some love in the comments because of that~~?

#ushiwaka x male reader #ushijima x male reader #wakatoshiushijima #ushijima wakatoshi #ushy gushy #hq x y/n #hq x male reader #hq ushijima #hq x reader #haikyuu x male reader #haikyuu x reader #ushijima x you #ushijima x reader #ushijima x y/n #mr shinsoussimp

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therealvinelle · 4 years ago

Note

Hi, your metas are super interesting, and even if I really enjoy fanon twilight, it's really cool to read opinions based only on canon too!

So my question is about the sexual orientation of the Cullens, do you think they all straight?

For example i saw someone saying that Edward maybe was demisexual and it left me thinking, so i just wanted to know your opinions about it :)

In short, no.

In alphabetical order:

Alice is with a man, but without getting into the mess that is Alice/Jasper here, I don’t think theirs is a particularly physical relationship. I mean, if Alice wanted to get laid, she could just decide to fuck Jasper, enjoy the vision, and bam. Itch scratched. Thanks, Jazz. Alright, I’ll be serious. Alice and Jasper are with each other because the other represents salvation, not so much because of a personal or physical attraction but because of mysticism. So to me that doesn’t really say much about Alice’s preference. All the same I can’t see Alice having a particular preference, she’s too... Alice. Although it is easier to picture her with women. She is also the second half of the Alice/Bella homoerotic extravaganza, which makes heterosexual Alice even more farfetched to me. So, bisexual or lesbian Alice.

Bella shows clear attraction to women as well as men. She’s attracted to Rosalie, Alice, Edward, and Carlisle. I’ll just give you guys quotes: Of the three boys, one was big — muscled like a serious weight lifter, with dark, curly hair. Another was taller, leaner, but still muscular, and honey blond. The last was lanky, less bulky, with untidy, bronze-colored hair. He was more boyish than the others, who looked like they could be in college, or even teachers here rather than students. The girls were opposites. The tall one was statuesque. She had a beautiful figure, the kind you saw on the cover of the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue, the kind that made every girl around her take a hit on her self-esteem just by being in the same room. Her hair was golden, gently waving to the middle of her back. The short girl was pixielike, thin in the extreme, with small features. Her hair was a deep black, cropped short and pointing in every direction. (Twilight, page 9) This is the Cullens’ introduction. I won’t spend much time on it, just notice the difference between Rosalie and the others. Rosalie is highlighted in a way Alice is not, and Edward is at first glance only the boyish one of the guys. Rosalie was the Cullen whose beauty immediately stood out to Bella. It was hard to decide who was the most beautiful — maybe the perfect blond girl, or the bronze-haired boy. (sic.) Bella has realized by now that Edward’s a grade A hottie, but she’s still torn between him and Rosalie. Bella then gets to know Alice, and they become friends who take showers together(!). Rosalie may be the most attractive Cullen woman, but Alice is the one Bella gets emotionally close to. We get this in New Moon: UNNATURALLY STILL AND WHITE, WITH LARGE BLACK EYES intent on my face, my visitor waited perfectly motionless in the center of the halt, beautiful beyond imagining. (...) I locked my arms around her, gasping to inhale as much of the scent of her skin as possible. It wasn't like anything else—not floral or spice, citrus or musk. No perfume in the world could compare. My memory hadn't done it justice. (New Moon, page 191) Bella never thought she’d never see any of the Cullens again, so for her to be hysterical and ecstatic upon seeing her second favorite is not by itself damning. I’m sure she’d be ecstatic to see Emmett too. It’s that fact that she’d missed Alice’s scent that’s interesting. The scent of her skin was something Bella was aware of before they parted. And while it may be tempting to say “it’s because they’re vampires, Bella’s admiring them like she would a work of art!”, Bella never dwells on Esme, Jasper, or Emmett in this way. Jasper and Emmett especially are not admired beyond the introduction of their characters. We never hear about what any of them smell like, nor does Bella remark upon their beauty after waking up a vampire. Carlisle and Edward, by comparison, are men she keeps noticing. Bella finds Carlisle blindingly beautiful when she first sees him as a vampire, and there’s this from New Moon: Though it erased the sting, it reminded me of the gash, and I watched Carlisle's face carefully to distract me from what his hands were doing. His hair gleamed gold in the bright light as he bent over my arm. (New Moon, page 18) There’s thinking someone is pretty, and then there’s gazing lovingly upon their face instead of pain killers. Bella is bisexual.

Carlisle moved in with a very gay man, had a close relationship with him, lived with him for the sake of his company for decades, and only left because of dietary differences. We don’t know for sure whether they actually had an affair or not, but the fact remains that of all the Cullens, Carlisle is the one who is implied to have had a homosexual relationship in canon. He loses his straight card based on that alone. Also gonna link this clip, because I’m Mac listening to Edward talk about how young Carlisle lived with this sexy Mycenaean Greek for a few decades when he was young. Aro is all the santas. Carlisle is bisexual.

Edward... oh boy. His brain is supposedly seventeen, and yet this very interesting thing happens in his relationship with Bella where he never notices her body. Not ever. By body I mean curves. Edward notices Bella’s skin, her frailty, her humanity. He praises her blushes, her doe-like eyes, her warmth, her softness, her swan-like neck, her delicious scent. The feminine aesthetic. He does not once notice her tits. The only tits he is on record noticing belong to Siobhan, and it’s because she has an impossible to ignore rack: She was profoundly female in shape—aggressively, forcefully female. (Midnight Sun, chapter Probability) It’s one thing for him to be old-fashioned and too quintessentially Edward to even think the word “boob”, but in 700+ pages of Midnight Sun there’s just this absence of this seventeen-year-old noticing her curves. More damningly, when seeing Alice’s vision of vampire!Bella, Edward is horrified at the sight of his love cold and hard. He doesn’t describe vampire!Bella by any of the positives, like “flawless”. Edward is attracted to the human, not the woman. What that means for his sexuality... well, I’m going to go ahead and point out that he is very weird about Carlisle, and it’s damning that the personality he projects onto Bella is so similar to Carlisle. I hesitate to apply a label here, but in my own, personal, headcanon we’re veering towards homosexual. Deeeeeeply closeted homosexual.

Emmett is straight. Straightest guy ever to straight.

Esme is pretty clearly taken with Carlisle. Though if she were to feel attracted towards another woman, I imagine she’d have no idea what to make of that, if she even recognized it for what it was. She’s from a very different time and still living in that time, and she continues to be very sheltered. Still, as per my personal headcanon, I see her as straight.

Jasper, who knows. Though if he’s into guys, he has probably gone for it in the past. I suppose I should write a meta on vampires and sexual norms in general, but in short I don’t think they all live monogamously like the Cullens. STDs and pregnancies are unheard of, as is social ostracizing. Vampires are hedonistic, Twilight vampires more so than any other. Which in turn means I don’t think Maria and Jasper were monogamous. A couple, sure, but I don’t think Maria would say “oh noes, I can’t, I’m with Jasper!” if someone she was attracted to made an overture, and same goes for Jasper. So, if Jasper was into guys, then sure. I can see Jasper/Peter happening, or even Charlotte/Jasper/Peter. Jasper is certainly into women, with the possibility of guys as well. And if so, then it’s probably happened.

Rosalie I’m shocked is with a guy in the first place, everything about her screams lesbian. However, she’s clearly into Emmett, so apparently she’s bisexual.

(I’m not including Renesmée in this, since she’s three months old by the time the series conclude.)

This all being said, several of these people are from very different times and wouldn’t have the same concepts of sexuality internalized as we do, so how they’d identify is a very different matter.

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demonicheadcanons · 4 years ago

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Obey Me Undateables / Side Dishes and Little Affections

AN: The last post for the brothers was ridiculously popular and this was requested so! Here we go. Just little ways the undateables are affectionate to the MC. Romance-coded but not for Luke bc he’s baby. I did this on mobile so forgive me for any formatting issues, and for the lack of a read more!

As you may have seen, I struggled a lot with Solomon because I really view him as being indifferent. I’m sorry if his is a little underwhelming! I also wrote this differently from the last one because I forgot how I formatted it, sorry ;u;

Diavolo

- He’s busy all the time. Like truly, this man rarely gets a break, and even when he does, his mind is still tick-tick-ticking away. Crawl into his lap and hold his face in your hands and he’ll finally relax, you can see the clouds clear away from his eyes. He kisses your forehead and holds your face in return, shining again. It only takes a few moments for him to settle completely, to shut off all his worries.

- He really just,,, likes to pick you up? So long as you’re not absolutely terrified he’ll completely randomly walk up to you and lift you up and carry you around with him or just hold you there. Bonus points if you wrap your arms around his shoulders and / or bury your face into his neck. Extra bonus points if you kiss or nuzzle against his cheek. His grin is so wide and bright it could light up the whole Devildom. Additionally, if you run and jump at him he will drop everything to catch you, no matter what. He has not and will never fail to catch you, and it makes him laugh so hard you can feel it in the way his arms and chest shake as he holds you.

- He likes to lay down beside you and link pinkies. It’s so soft, such a delicate little thing, and yet you trust him enough to let him do that. The minimal contact makes it feel even more special to him, there’s no pressure there. You’re close and he has a reminder of your presence beside him and it’s enough, it’s enough.

- With Diavolo, if you decide to teach him cute human things, you might regret it later, because he remembers them all. You put your palm out once, telling him that he’s supposed to rest his chin there, and from then on he’ll do it immediately. He will also expect you to do it too, and his timing is completely random. You’ll be talking to Barbatos and he’ll hold his hand out and wait for you to rest your chin in it. When you do, he pokes at your cheek with his thumb and walks off again.

- Please play cute games with him. Farming games like Stardew Valley or things like Terraria and Minecraft, or the Sims, or anything like that. He also doesn’t mind matches on more competitive games, but he likes to relax and make a house or a farm with you, and his reactions to everything is adorable; you two make Sims and he cheers when they get married, and even if they’re not representing you two and are just random Sims, he jokes about how you should do that too someday. He’s amazing at games that are strategy based, but prefers to play anything else so he can relax and not think for a while.

Barbatos

- Random tickles. It’s completely unexpected and he is very sneaky - the first few times it’ll catch you heavily off guard, and even after that it’s hard to predict when you’ll feel his gloved hands brush against your sides. He’s an expert at guessing where someone is ticklish, and abuses that power when alone with the people he loves (namely you!)

- Food fights but on a small scale. He’ll walk past you in the kitchen and brush flour across your face, disguising it as him simply being affectionate as he passes by, a reminder that he cares about you and is thinking about you even as he works. His movements are graceful and confident as always, to the point where it’s actually quite hard to even realise what he’s done. He will consider telling you before you leave the kitchen. He really will consider it.

- Similarly, if his hands are wet, just before drying them off he’ll flick water in your direction and then act like he has no idea what you’re talking about when you ask if he just did that. Really, MC, why would he do that? He’s been so busy cooking, and you’re accusing him of doing something so childish?

- He quite likes just, holding you up and carrying you around but in a different way to Diavolo. Instead of Princess carries, it’s more like if you jump onto someone and wrap your legs around their waist and your arms around their shoulders? He loves carrying you around like that. Cling onto him! He’s not fond of having you cling to his back, but his sides or front is fine.

- Barbatos tends to keep an eye on you and it’s really hard to tell, but if you’re in the same room as him he’s keeping tabs on what you’re doing. You could swear he has eyes on the back of his head, because he always seems to know what you’re up to. In reality, he really just likes seeing how you look when you’re focused, or, alternatively, when you’re completely zoned out and off in space, thinking of something completely random and irrelevant to the current situation. He’ll come up and tap your forehead and smile at you when it looks like you’re back in the room again.

Solomon

- Solomon isn’t super affectionate and he’s not really an acts of kindness kind of guy. The most important thing for him is proximity; he doesn’t need you pressed up against his side all the time, but he likes having you in the same room as him as often as possible. You spend your evenings in his room in Purgatory Hall, laying or his bed or working at his desk, as he busies away with some new spell or writes down results of experiments with different potion ingredients. He doesn’t bother thinking too hard about it and just accepts it, but the reality is that it’s very calming and comforting for him. He’s also not someone who worries much about being judged or anything, so regularly having another person around doesn’t bother him.

- He asks for your input a lot. Simply put, he wants to hear you talk, and he’d love to know what makes you tick and how your brain works. “What do you think of this?” “How do you think Satan would react if...” and so on. So many ‘what if’ questions that it might make your head spin, because he’s always playing a game in his head of ‘what would happen if...’ despite rarely following through with it outside of experimenting with his magic and potions, and he wants to involve you in it too.

- Solomon doesn’t mind holding hands, and likes to play silly games when you are. Things like having thumb wars, or he’ll tangle his fingers up with yours and watch, amused, as you try and fail to pull your hand from his grip. Afterwards he’ll hold your hand with both of his and run his fingers and thumbs over it to soothe you. He also likes to just rest his hand on top of yours when you’re sitting beside each other.

- He’s going to try to be affectionate if it’s something you seem to want, and just out of curiosity. The one thing that sticks is that, if you’re cooking for him (because he’s not allowed to) he’ll wrap his arms around your waist and hug you from behind, his chin in your shoulder as he watches whatever you’re doing. He’ll blow air at the side of your face or at your fringe / bangs if you have them, so long as you’re not doing anything too dangerous and aren’t at risk of getting seriously injured.

- Bonus: If Solomon calls you and says “try this” or “drink some of this” don’t do it. Or at the very least, ask about any possible effects first. Moreso for food than for potions; he’ll find a way to reverse the potion, but the memory of eating his food will be stuck with you forever.

- Bonus bonus: Solomon loves giving you squishy hugs but he will squeeze you too tight and he will laugh even if he feels your spin click against his arms as you yelp. He won’t hurt you, but he will squeeze you hard enough that breathing will be difficult for a moment. You can tell from his smirk that he doesn’t feel guilty at all.

Simeon

- Simeon likes having you play with his hair. The way you twirl strands of hair between your fingers and try and fail to make a mess of his soft locks, which always return to their place no matter how hard you try to stop them. Bonus points for innocently wandering fingers that brush down the sides of his face, thumbs and fingers that ever so lightly brush along his cheekbones or around and under his jaw. He relaxes into your touch, eyes fluttering closed before he opens them just enough to smile at you, silent but oh so visibly delighted.

- If he knows it won’t make you sick and it’ll wipe off, he actually quite likes to draw on your hands and arms. He’ll let you do it in return, of course, but simple doodles and patterns, hearts and diamonds and sweet little reminders you’ll see later when you have to wash them off.

- Laying on your stomachs with your sides pressed together on a thin, soft blanket, knees bent and legs swinging in the air as you both read the same book. Simeon always finishes the pages first and so you take charge of just turning the pages, until he mumbles that he had lost focus - he’d been too busy watching your expressions, almost lulled to sleep by listening to your gentle breathing and wondering if you were enjoying the story and what your thoughts on it were, trying to piece it all together without disturbing you.

- You pass him at RAD or out in the Devildom and you don’t necessary stop, but he always waves, and god is it impossible to ignore how he lights up. His eyes gleam and he looks so, so happy just to see you and be reminded of your existence and if you’ve been unsure before about how truthful he’s being when he says he loves you and adores being around you, that look on his face will erase all your doubts. He’s beautiful and he’s glowing and it’s because he saw you!

Luke

- It’s an obvious one but baking together! Making cakes and decorating them. Letting stress out as you knead bread, experimenting with making different types of pastries. One time you make a batch of cupcakes and decorate them to look like dogs and he feels really sad when people eat them but he’s proud all the same, and he likes that he gets to feel proud around you.

- He acts like he’s indifferent, but he quite likes when you call him your brother. If you call him your little brother, he’ll protest because he’s hundreds of years older than you in reality, but he allows it after a while. So long as he can call you his big sibling in return, it’s worth it. If any of the brothers tease him over being the little brother, he remarks that at least you trust him and care for him so much as to call him your brother. None of them can really respond to that.

- Pat! Him! On! The! Head! Adjust his scarf! Fix his hat! He doesn’t understand why he enjoys it so much, but then Simeon points out that it probably makes him feel cared for, and that’s absolutely it. No teasing works or harsh gestures, just little acts that show you care about him or are thinking about him. It makes him feel so safe and happy.

- He always remembers things on your schedule for you, from little reminders that you might forget about to big important events. The only other person he does that for is Simeon, so it’s really a big deal for him - he shows enough interest to listen to you and remember all the little details you tell him, and then to reach out to you and make sure you remember or just to say he hopes you have a good time. If it’s something stressful, he might not message beforehand, but he’ll show up when it’s over with some treats and act like he just happened to be baking today and had some to spare.

Tag list: @katsukis-sad-angel

#obey me #obey me shall we date #my headcanons #obey me undateables #obey me Diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me solomon #obey me simeon #obey me luke #my writings #this is enough for now right? ;u;#fluff #hhh I don’t feel so sure about this one I’m sorry if it’s bad. I know the for #formatting is awful *#if you wanna be tagged in longer headcanon posts in future or even small fluff posts let me know!

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