#i do think i captured their essences though. cover half of a character and i feel they look like themselves

[reblog-house]

So I watched Grian and Joel and Jimmy and Scar's videos. I have never drawn fanart of literally anything as quickly in my life. Here's just what I managed to do in the two hours it took me to watch the videos. Just a little WIP. Will continue it tomorrow. Possibly.

[primofate]

Hi there, can I request the boys seeing you got injured or being attacked, whichever is fine ^^

Hey anon! You didn’t specify how injured but I’ll just run with it hahaha :)

Shortfic

Scenario: You got injured Part 1

Part 2 with Zhongli

Part 3 with Xiao

Characters: gn! reader x Diluc, Kaeya, Albedo, Childe

Warnings: angst, injury, no character death though

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Diluc

“Master Diluc, if I could just interrupt--” one of the caretakers in the winery walked up to his office and prepared for the assault of words that could be fired towards him, sure enough, Diluc interrupted. “What is it? I’m a little busy right now, make it quick,” he hadn’t turned his face to look at the grim expression weaving in and out through the caretaker. Hadn’t bothered to look up to check if there was anything amiss, but the caretaker continued quickly “It’s Y/N,” the caretaker had only paused for a moment but Diluc had already picked his head up at the mention of your name. It was here that he realises something must have gone wrong, the caretaker’s expression was not a pleasant one. He was up on his feet, eyes widening a fraction at the following words, “They came back to the mansion seconds ago and they’ve been injured past what Adelinde could fix so we called for a doctor—”

In Diluc’s hurry he had stumbled over his chair, it tripping behind him with a thud on the floor but he ignored it and fast runs towards your room. Dear Archons he should NOT have let you go on that commission by yourself. You could hold your own, yes, but things happened and he really should have thought that through first. He was berating himself for it as he swung the door open. “Y/N?!” 

The urgency in his voice tells you that he perhaps had the wrong idea of what was happening, it was really just a gash on your leg, although it was bleeding profusely, the cut must have been deeper than you thought. The maid had already placed a tourniquet to stop and slow the bleeding. You tried not to show it in your face, not wanting to alarm your lover any further, but it. hurt. like. hell. “Diluc, I’m fine, it’s just a gash,” 

The maid that was previously sitting on the chair next to your bed moves away, Diluc replacing her, his eyes didn’t tear away from the wound on your leg, his expression contorted to that of worry and nervousness, before finally turning to your face, reaching a hand out to cradle your cheek. “Stop lying. You’re pale, you’re sweating--” of course he sees through you, he knows the second you get upset, knows every crease on your forehead and every slight furrow of the brow. He had memorized every inch of his beautiful, beautiful treasure. “Your hands are trembling, you’ve lost too much blood, where’s the doctor?!” He grips your hand at the realization that you might actually be in a more dire situation than presented, and just on cue the doctor comes through the door, asking for some time alone with you to do his job. 

Diluc paces outside the door, unable to stay in one place for long. He kept thinking about how frail you looked. How, if you were unlucky, it wouldn’t have just been your leg. He shook his head at the thought. He didn’t know how he was going to let you out of his sight from then on. He knew full well it would annoy you to have him following you around everywhere but.... How could he not after this?

The doctor emerged half an hour later and explained that you just needed a bit of rest and that, with a little healing magic, you didn’t need the stitches at all. “Don’t let them use that leg for a day and they should be fine, it’s nothing life-threatening but they did lose a lot of blood and is going to need time to recuperate. They’re asleep at the moment,” 

Diluc takes note of everything and quietly slips into your room. They must have sedated you in the process and he sighs as he plops down on the chair that was still placed next to your bed. His eyes soften at the sight of you finally relaxed and less in pain, hand reaching out to brush off strands of stray hair that blocked his view of your face. “You’re the only one who can scare me this much,” he mutters under his breath, as if complaining and he swears that he sees a very small and light grin on your face, as if teasing him. He smiles a little, just happy that you’re stabilized and leans in to kiss your forehead, opting to stay by your side till you wake up.

----------

Kaeya

“What do you mean unconscious?”

“J-Just as we said, Captain. They were unconscious when we found them,” Kaeya sighs in slight exasperation. Normally he was a jolly camper but when the knight in front of him is unable to say how injured you are, Kaeya gets a little wordy. “I meant to say why were they unconscious? Were they hurt? Where are they now?”

Kaeya stands. He was in the middle of some Favonius paper work. “They were bleeding profusely from the head,” Kaeya stops as if lightning has struck him and stares pointedly at the knight. “These details should be said early on,” he thought that it had just been something less threatening. Perhaps you had somehow passed out, exhausted, on your bedroom floor. Or perhaps had just rolled from the bed and onto the floor. They said that they found you in the bedroom, and his blood froze when he realizes that someone went in there to attack you.

Kaeya doesn’t bother talking the other knight into giving better reports next time, he’d do that later. He could guess that you were probably taken into the Favonius infirmary. Sure enough, when he walks in there, face scrunched up into what could only be described as worry and anger mingling together, you were awake, head bandaged up and your eyes meet. His heart breaks at how you still smile at him despite the fact that he wasn’t there to protect you. He stands next to the infirmary bed and gingerly touches your cheek, peering into your eyes. “Y/N, what happened?” he asks, eyes scanning the bandages wrapped around you. “Who did this?” and there was that angry and cold undertone in his voice that you rarely heard, as if his cryo vision had taken over his whole being.

“I’m sorry, Kaeya, I-- I can’t quite remember,” You put a hand up to cover half of your eye, your head was still throbbing and in quick realization Kaeya eases up on you and gently pushes you on your back to rest. “It’s fine, sorry, I just--” he cuts his own speech off and takes a deep breath in. Focus on the good. He tells himself. “I’m glad you’re alright, take it easy, I’ll take care of things,” By that he means he might just slaughter whoever even had the guts to break into your house and attack you in the middle of the day. The break-in was reported by townspeople, and Kaeya was sure as hell he’d get every witness to describe that asshole’s face. 

“You’re staying with me for the moment,” he decides quite quickly, and you had no qualms with that whatsoever. Hearing that you had no protest at all, he grins and leans down to capture your lips in a soft kiss, afraid to hurt you. “No complaints? Perhaps this was your grand scheme all along to come live with me,” You can’t help but chuckle at how quick he bounces back. “Maybe, honey. Maybe,”

----------

Albedo

“Ow--” the knife clatters to the floor, as blood starts to pool around your finger. Albedo spins around at the meek sound you make, ignoring the knife on the floor and strides over to you just as you’ve turned on the sink and started running water on the small cut on your finger.

“Let me see,” You turn to him, blinking. His face was blank. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking but he was staring straight at you. “Oh, don’t worry, it’s just a small cut,” but he doesn’t waver and glances at the water running over your finger. “Let me see,” he tries again, this time rather forceful. That got you to obey. Turning the faucet off and awkwardly offering your hand to him.

He receives it and cradles it in his as if it was porcelain, upturning your hand to look at the small cut on your pointer finger. It was tiny. Really nothing compared to wounds that a knight might sustain. Albedo sighs and looks up at you, “Don’t go anywhere,” before stalking off, coming back a few seconds later with a first aid kit. “...Al, it’s alright, it’s not a big deal,” Albedo would only let one person give him a nickname. You. No one else. Frankly he thought the nickname was weird but if it danced on your lips, he didn’t mind it at all.

“Y/N, you’re mistaken if you think I’m going to take this lightly,” he takes out some ointment and a small roll of bandage, starting with the ointment. “Everything and anything that hurts you is a significant thing,” his gaze darkens, as if glowering at that microscopic cut. “Miniscule or massive, it doesn’t make a difference to me,” he starts wrapping your finger, “if it taints your skin, I cannot help but feel--” he doesn’t know the right word, but you do, judging from how his hold on your wrist tightens. 

A soft smile paints your features at how he was such a worry-wart. Sometimes he was so bad at navigating his own feelings but you could decipher them anyway, from his actions. You let him worry over you, and thank him once he’s done. He finishes his work by taking your hand, and pressing it to his lips, his eyes darting up to lock on yours. That made you blush every damn time. His green eyes were just so mesmerizing, and so was his heart.

----------

Childe

Dear mother of the Archons, perhaps whoever was responsible for your injuries had some type of death wish. Everyone should offer prayers for whoever had cut you up. Your arms and legs were littered with small scratches from trying to run away from the attackers, you thought going through the thick forest was a good idea. In essence, it had slowed the thieves down. They had managed to throw a fire bomb at you that severely burned your right hand, and the right side of your abdomen. 

Perhaps it was thanks to adrenaline running through you that you had actually managed to make it to the gates of Liyue, just before the bridge, but you’d crumpled down right then and there. The Millelith guards didn’t recognize you, but the three Fatui agents walking on the bridge did. “Someone had better tell him,” The group of Fatuis scrambled nearer to you, one of them picking you up, but glancing at the other who had just spoken up. “I’m not doing that, you do it,” it was slightly comical, seeing them pass off the duty of who was supposed to report to Childe about it. “You know how he gets when it comes to them, I’m not doing--” then one of them finally gets their bearings together.

“Shut up, get them to the healer first,” The tallest one shoves the one carrying you, urging him to go fast and off he went. Now it was just two Fatui agents looking at each other. Two Fatui agents who decided that they would just face his wrath together. “Sir,” one of them starts as Childe turns around to look at them. He actually had no tasks today and was just about to go off to find you. “About Y/N...” Childe’s eyebrows shoot up, what in the world could these agents have to say about you? “We’ve sent them to the healers, they collapsed at the entrance of Liyue, it... doesn’t look good...”

All hell descends upon Childe’s demeanor and poise. His face darkens, his eyes burning holes through the two agents and his fists closed up on his side. His bow appears and hovers behind him, the only thing that shone through his dark person. “The two of you--” he starts, “are going to find out who did it. I’m expecting a report by nightfall,”

Childe himself shows up at the healers quarters, and was told of your condition. “Their hand is going to scar,” keeps reverberating in his head. Like the sound that he imagines the skulls of those who dared touch you crunching under his feet, over and over again. Childe actually winces when he sees you. Small bandages on your arms and legs from the scratches, your right hand wrapped up adequately and, he couldn’t see it now, but he was sure your abdomen was wrapped too.

You cracked an eye open, feeling another presence in the room. Childe immediately appears next to you, leaning over the bed and watching your expression. “...It hurts, doesn’t it?” he asks, tracing over your bandaged hand. You remained quiet for a moment before nodding your head slowly. Just remembering it caused a blinding pain in your mind’s eye. You’d been given drugs to ease the pain now, but there were still traces of it lingering on your skin. “How dare they,” both your eyes snapped open at Childe’s nearly contorted voice, shadowed and overpowered by rage. 

You pick up your good hand and touch his arm with the tips of your fingers. You didn’t like it when he got like this. “Childe, it’s alright,” far from it, but it was the only reassurance you could offer. He catches your hand and brings it up to his face, pressing your hand to his cheek as if it was a lifeline. “It’s not. It’s not,” he repeats to himself, his anger also stemming from the fact that he wasn’t there to protect you. “They’ll regret even laying eyes on you,” You knew he wanted to go now, knew that he wanted to get to the bottom of it, but you yet again pull your hand away to grasp at his shirt, the fabric scrunching up under your hold. “...But stay with me for tonight? Please?” 

That got him. He would never say no. His form relaxes and he leans in to kiss your lips, gentle yet with a hidden hunger in them. “Of course,” he simply says, as if his previous agenda forgotten.

But he would never forget. He would never forget for as long as he could see that scar. 

Tomorrow, he would decimate each and every one of them.

[fansplaining]

Any advice for writing summaries for Fics?

Hmmm! Well first to tag recent Fansplaining guest @bettsfic, who has written many more fic summaries than me (this is Elizabeth) and probably has great advice on the subject (or perhaps has already written tips and can link to them).

But I do have some thoughts as a two-decade-plus reader of fic, and many years as a professional writer and editor who’s written a lot of, as we say, display copy (things like deks, subtitles, summaries, etc). 

[Please take all of this advice with a grain of salt, because it’s fic, so people can do whatever they want!]

1) Fake it til you make it

If you’re having trouble writing a summary, the number one thing I suggest is DO NOT TELL US ABOUT IT. I may be a slightly choosier reader than some, but “lol I suck at summaries” in the summary (or the tags) is a huge turn-off for me as a reader. I know why people do it! It’s a bit of ironic cover, ~I’m worried this is bad so I’m just gonna beat you to the punch and say this is bad nothing matters ha ha ha.~ Many (all?) of us are guilty of this kind of thing somewhere in our lives, but you don’t need to do it! Just pretend you think you’re great at them, and plow ahead—and the reader will be more likely to go with you.

2) Quote yourself

The tried-and-true, most straightforward summary method is obviously a quote from the fic—an exchange of dialogue or maybe a short paragraph that really captures the essence of what happens in the story. Choosing a good exchange or passage is obviously easier said than done! A few things I’d recommend: 

a) Don’t pull, like, huge blocks of text. I’d suggest this no matter what summary route you’re going, but I find people tend to do this with quotes *a lot*. Especially in the past few years, as phone-reading has become so prevalent, being hit with a paragraph the length of your phone screen makes most readers slide past, just because of the way our brains process information.

b) Don’t be afraid to mix and match, or to play around with your own words. You can pull out a bit directly from your story, or you can modify it, you can pair it with a fresh sentence that isn’t a quote at all. It’s fic, there are no rules. 

c) Get another human to read it! Ideally a beta! Someone who’s read the story! A second opinion—someone who can say if they think the passage you quoted is misleading, or isn’t doing your story justice, or feels just right—is invaluable. 

3) Distill your story into a tweet

This is a tip from my journalist self, originally suggested by a wonderful editor that I worked with for years. If I found myself spinning my wheels 2/3rds of the way through a piece, she’d say, “What will we eventually tweet to promo the piece?” I actually recommend this for all kinds of writing if you’re stuck. What am I arguing or showing or exploring? How am I going to convince other humans that the thing I’ve written is something they’d want to read?

Fic is obviously different from reported features or whatever, but I can’t think of a single fic I’ve read that I couldn’t promo in a tweet. I’m not saying you need to summarize the entire plot in 280 characters. But in a sentence or two, can you tell me what it’s about? That might be wholly emotional description—lots of fic has very little plot, of course. But it’s still about something.

Once you have this distillation, you can expand on it. Is this the information you want to give your readers in advance? Do you want to hold some of it back and tease? Do you want to give them more? You’ll be surprised how much clarity you have on your own work—what you’re trying to put out in the world—when you can describe it succinctly. 

4) Situate the reader

So fic is different from other fiction because we already know who the characters are. But, importantly, we don’t know where you’ve placed them—where are they, in relation to the source material we probably already know? If they’re in an AU world, where will we find them at the start of the story? If it’s canon-divergent, tell us about that divergence—that’s the “what if” intrigue that will bring us in as readers. 

Think about who has the POV, and if it’s only one person, decide whether you want to limit the summary to the way the world looks from their perspective. I recently finished writing a fic, and in my haste to get ~all the fun details~ into the summary, I included information that the protagonist would not have access to until the very end of the story. I want the reader to be deep inside her head, only seeing her limited perspective—and I want the summary to reflect that. 

Even though you’ll get plenty of readers who don’t know the source (all our surveys show plenty of fic readers do this!), you can also send out signals to the people who do know the source/ship/etc. The protagonist doesn’t know the other half of the ship yet—can you use teasing language so *we* know who this stranger who comes into their life is before they do? Fic is full of this kind of pleasurable dramatic irony, and summaries are a great place to lean into it.

~~

I could go on and on, but I should probably cut myself off at some point lol. If anyone has any other resource/tip posts—summaries *are* hard, for all kinds of writing—please leave them in the replies! 

[candythemew]

SkekLach and the Spitter

     This all just stared because I meant to capture a screenshot of SkekLach because she was being cute. During the speech about creating the garthim, she's giggling and being all excited when they're bringing in the slaughtered arathim while SkekVar the General is talking about Chamberlain’s plan. You can’t tell because it's a still, but she's shaking her fists up and down excitedly while she laughs. (Why do you have to be so disgusting but so cute?!)  During these scenes in episode 9, these are some of the happiest moments we ever from of the Collector. She’s her normal dreary self for the first half of the episode, but towards the end she gets much more... Joyful? For lack of a better word.

     I'm pretty sure she's the one who killed said arathim, because when she comes back she's covered in cobwebs, some of her hair peeks out of her cowl, and her pustules are EXTREMELY aggravated from the acid. While the Chamberlain is the one who dragged the corpse in, he’s relatively unscathed. Most likely due to following around the General and waiting for his move to manipulate him. The Chamberlain also leaves in the opposite direction of the arathim to inform SkekVar of his plan. While SkekLach knows nothing about said plan. Staying in the same general area. Arathim probably still attacking her as a distraction so that their newly formed gelfling allies can escape.

     Although they fail their mission and the Collector is temporarily blinded, she's also uncharacteristically happy after the fact. This skeksis over here just got a ton of acid spat in her face, got into a bunch of fights, seemingly lost, and the gelfling got away on top of that. Usually this would be when she'd be complaining about how useless she, and everyone else is. Or the pain she's in. But no! She's HAPPY?? I like to believe that she legitimately got into a fight offscreen and WON! And since she's one of the skeksis who dwells on the past the most, constantly lamenting upon her lost youth. I feel like she probably, in that moment. Was experiencing this high of positive emotion. This unsatiable adrenaline rush from getting back into the fray! Because right then and there she realized, be it herself or the essence surging through her veins, She's not useless.

For a brief moment she’s her old self.

    It's funny, also looking back on it; that even though she's in TONS of pain, this episode is where most of the happy SkekLach screenshots come from. seeing her happy is such a joy. It’s always weird seeing the perpetually depressed characters so motivated and happy, but it’s a welcome change of pace.

     All of this gives you a better grasp on her as a character. Originally I thought she was just overexaggerating her usefulness in that scene. (And she absolutely was) I felt that maybe it was to mask her failure, or make things sound better than they were. But now I'm thinking that she's legitimately VERY proud of herself for once. And she wants the court to know just how well she did. 

[panharmonium]

more scattered naruto thoughts now that we’ve finished season 8 -

[spoiler policy disclaimer first, as always: I am watching naruto for the first time and have only gotten up to the end of season 8 (after pain destroys the hidden leaf village).  i am trying to avoid spoilers, so please don’t interact with this (tags included, because the notifications now show them to me automatically) with any spoilery commentary, including even general things like “oh i love this show but it gets less good after X point” or “X season is better than Y season” or any general assessments of quality/likability/etc re: future seasons.  Thank you! <3 ]

- i like the way S8 ended.  i know that in real life maybe it wouldn’t be so feasible to just talk your enemy back to the light, but honestly, i don’t care.  i love that shit.  i love stories when people refuse to hurt the people who hurt them first, and then their seemingly inconceivable choice to refrain from striking back creates a connection (it’s the ‘return of the jedi’ effect, folks).  i understand that it doesn’t work like that in real life most of the time, and i don’t recommend it for real life people trying to defend themselves, but i do love it in fiction.  i LOVED how naruto went in pursuit of nagato to talk to him, not fight him.  even though naruto says straight-up “i can’t forgive you” / “I want to kill you so badly i can’t stop shaking” - he still recognizes that his enemy is someone who’s been victimized, and he has enough compassion to feel pain on their behalf even when he himself is reeling from having his entire home destroyed and both of his teachers murdered by the person he’s confronting.  his choice to control his (valid) rage and extend a hand in compassion is ultimately what changes the outcome and saves everyone who would have died, reversing the damage that was done, and i love that shit.  

- absolutely adore yamato abandoning his own mission and taking off at a run to try and help naruto when he senses that naruto is losing control over the nine-tails.  this man thought he was just a substitute teacher for a while there, but he’s become part of the family while he wasn’t looking.

- HINATA.  oh my god i couldn’t even enjoy this incredible moment because i was so stressed out (and angry, at the time, because i really thought they were going to kill her, and that would’ve crossed my line).  i want to watch this again knowing that she’s fine, because my anxiety over ‘fuck fuck fuck they’re actually going to kill one of the kids’ precluded me from even appreciating it appropriately.

- there’s been a lot of talk on this show about how sakura doesn’t have as much chakra as naruto or sasuke, but she heals people non-stop the entire time Pain is attacking and doesn’t show any signs of running dry.  SHOW HER SOME RESPECT.

- CHOOOOOOOOJIIIIIIII!  omg.  i was so afraid that his father was actually dead, and SO RELIEVED that he was okay.  you can’t do that to choji!!!

- also relatedly, how much do i adore choji for caring so much about kakashi?  <333 i mean this kid is there sobbing over his dead body, and then he bursts out crying when kakashi comes back to life - i really appreciate these little ties between characters who aren’t always in close quarters but who do have a relationship.  kakashi has been a teacher to ALL of the kids, and team 10 especially feels indebted to him - the respect and affection they all feel for him is very real.

- first time i actually thought ‘ok he’s cool’ with regard to minato was when he talked to the nine-tails so unfazed like “he’s a loudmouth.  let’s go somewhere more quiet.’  i’ve been kind of so-so on his character so far, but i liked this.  

- also later in that scene - the (rare) scenes we’ve seen where naruto totally breaks down absolutely kill me.  it happened once when gaara was dead, and then there’s another moment in this episode when he’s talking to minato - whoever voices him does just incredible work in those moments, and it is SO PAINFUL to me because naruto is always such a happy kid the rest of the time and eternally optimistic and positive and excited and popping back up every time he falls down, and so when he cracks it is just devastating to see.  i hate seeing him cry like that.

- similarly - that shot of sasuke at the end of the itachi arc wrecked me.  naruto’s breakdowns are upsetting, but at least he allows himself to have them - when he gets pushed past a breaking point, he explodes.  he cries and yells and spills every single thought in his head in front of everybody who’s around him, and after it’s done, things get better.  he’s with people who care about him.  he’s venting and making himself understood, and he always finds his equilibrium again.

sasuke, though, has been completely locked down ever since we saw him sneak out of the hospital to wander around the scene of his community’s mass murder, and he’s still locked down now, even crying all alone at the edge of the ocean.  this moment isn’t cathartic.  it isn’t a release.  this is barely even a sliver of what this kid has going on inside him, and it looks like it’s agonizing for him to even let that much out.

- the scene where naruto is about to give up and give in to the nine-tails’s power...that exchange!!!!!!!

i don’t know.  it hurts.  i hate this.  i don’t know.  what should i do.  i don’t know anything anymore.  someone...please help me.  give me...an answer.

destroy everything.  erase anything that causes you pain.  give me your soul, your spirit, your vital essence.  give it to me, and in exchange, i will rescue you from your pain.

this whole exchange is amazing.  the way naruto says ‘it hurts’...this is one of those scenes that expands to cover so much more ground than just what’s onscreen at that moment.  what naruto overcomes here is precisely the trap that sasuke has not been able to escape.  sasuke has never had any framework for dealing with pain that isn’t about pursuing vengeance.  it’s the only way he thinks he can free himself from his pain - by putting all of his energy into destroying the people who hurt him.  

but it becomes an endless cycle, because he never succeeds.  itachi dies and sasuke feels worse than ever, so he turns his attention to the hidden leaf in an attempt to finally kill what’s hurting him.  but even if sasuke were to raze the entire village to the ground, his pain would still be with him, and he’d then have to turn his attention to yet another target, because the alternative would be to recognize that he can’t escape his pain by destroying the things that hurt him, and that’s not something he’s able to accept right now.  he’s spent half his life fixated on the idea that revenge can rescue him from how terrible he feels, and abandoning that idea now would mean that nothing can save him.  it would mean that he’s going to hurt like this no matter what he does.  

kakashi tried to warn him about this.  he tried to tell sasuke that even after getting his revenge, sasuke wouldn’t feel better, that he’d only tear himself apart trying to achieve something that would leave him feeling empty - but sasuke was too entrenched in his own warped thinking to believe it.  and ever since then, sasuke has been in the company of people who are happy to let him dig himself deeper and deeper into a self-destructive hole as long as it benefits their agenda.  they don’t care if he’s hurting himself.  they’re happy to see him suffering.  his pain is a tool they can use.

- a note re: kakashi, when it comes to this topic - 

i think it’s relevant to remember that kakashi never tells sasuke not to pursue revenge because it’s “wrong” or ethically questionable.  he never delivers any moralizing speeches in the vein of “if you kill someone who victimized you, you’re just as bad as they are.”  kakashi doesn’t think it’s wrong if itachi dies, and if sasuke were in a better state of mind, he probably wouldn’t even mind if sasuke were the one to kill him.  that’s why kakashi is comfortable helping team 10 pursue asuma’s killers, after all - because they’re not unbalanced by rage or making self-destructive decisions; they’re acting with clear heads and pursuing a course of action that needs to be taken anyway (asuma’s murderers are on their way to the leaf to capture naruto - they need to be dealt with regardless).  team 10′s kids can handle that mission - they’re thinking straight.  they’re comfortable accepting adult guidance.  they’re grieving, but they’re okay. 

sasuke is not.  sasuke has been deeply traumatized since he was a very young child, and encouraging his quest for vengeance is equivalent to validating all of the fucked-up thought patterns that are hurting him so badly - that it was his responsibility (as a seven year-old child) to protect his clan, that he was weak and cowardly for running away, that he needs to take itachi down as penance for failing to save his family, that killing itachi is the only way for him to justify his childhood survival, that killing itachi will free him from his pain.  for kakashi to encourage any of these false convictions would be irresponsible and, ultimately, harmful to the child he’s supposed to be looking after.  if sasuke gets his revenge on itachi, he’s just going to be left with the horrifying realization that his pain hasn’t lessened even the slightest bit, except that now he also has to deal with the additional trauma of killing someone he used to love. 

kakashi doesn’t discourage sasuke from revenge because Revenge Is Morally Bad and You Are Morally Bad For Pursuing It; he discourages sasuke from revenge because in this particular case, sasuke’s fixation on revenge is hurting him.  it’s unhealthy for him, and it will cause him worse pain in the future if he allows it to continue driving his life.  sasuke is never going to feel better if he doesn’t stop distracting himself from his pain by focusing solely on vengeance.  if he’s ever going to actually be rescued from his pain, he needs to face (and FEEL!!!) his grief, which is precisely what staying fixated on revenge allows him to avoid.

- relatedly: i just.  am SO sick.  of all these horrible people.  getting their hands on sasuke.  and using him for their own ends.  when he has already been manipulated and victimized all his life.  it makes me wanna SCREAM!!!!  and i know that’s the point; we are supposed to be frustrated by this - but - hrnghghgnh

and like - it’s not like sasuke doesn’t know it’s happening!  he’s not stupid!  he knows the people around him are using him, and he just tries to use them back and play them before they play him, and he accepts that this is what his life is going to look like, and because he survives, he thinks he’s in control, but he has NO IDEA how far over his head he’s in now.  and besides, he never stops to think that maybe his life shouldn’t look like this.  he has no conception of ‘someone should be taking care of me.’  he’s never seen himself as a child who needs protection - he’s never seen himself as a child, period.  it’s why he’s such a brat to the other kids, and it’s why he never calls kakashi ‘sensei.’  he thinks of himself as an adult.  he has adult problems.  he can’t connect to children his own age because he can’t connect to the idea of childhood - his childhood was stolen from him, and with it went any conception of refuge or safety or the fact that relentless self-sufficiency and a constant cycle of using/being used by other people isn’t in fact what his life is supposed to look like.

i am continually infuriated by all of these people who have abdicated their responsibility as adults and chosen to exploit an already exploited kid, one who is too messed up to save himself or let anybody else help him.  none of these people care about him.  they all want to use him for something.  they’re happy he’s in pain, because his pain is what enables them to manipulate him.

the people who DO truly want to help him are the same people he’s desperately trying to avoid.  the only adult sasuke ever had a meaningful and non-manipulative relationship with is the same adult he keeps running away from.  and the only two people his own age who ever actually knew anything about him or cared if he was okay are the two people he keeps pushing away. 

there is, perhaps, a lot to be said about how sasuke continually runs away from the people who actually care about him and instead affiliates himself with people he’ll never have to worry about forming a connection with.  “having too many ties in this world just holds you back” - sure, and having no ties protects you, too.  nobody to love you, nobody to know you, nobody you can ever lose.

[cloudyyoonji]

Lovelorn.

Hwang Hyunjin X Reader  

REQUESTED BY ANON 

Summary: Lovelorn; The state of being sad because of the problems love brings. Stupid projects mean even stupider decisions when your in college. 

Genre: Super fluffy! College Fluff!! _____________

“What about proving gravity wrong?”  

The boy across from can only groan, folding into a pile on his notebook, pen falling from his hand.  

“You’re seriously so dumb,” Hyunjin groans into his sleeves.   “You know this project is like half our grade right?”  

“No shit sherlock.” You spit, rolling your eyes as you lean back into your chair.   “I seriously think we’re going to fail this unit. There’s seriously nothing.”  

“Hey!” Now he’s sitting up, eyes wide. “I’ve given plenty of suggestions!”  

“Hyunjin, being able to resist eating an open pizza box for 24 hours is not proving anything wrong.”   “Hey, it shows that we've got strong will power!"

You groan now, throwing your head back.  

On the unlikely chance to choose your partners for a project, you were both stumped with the project question of ‘Prove me wrong’, the topic as widespread as the question.  

Just what were you proving wrong? Whatever you two wanted to prove wrong.  

Hyunjin sits up suddenly, eyes wide with the essence of ‘eureka’.  

“What if we did an article on celebrity lives? Like the whole dating for publicity thing?”  

His voice grows more excited as the words pour from his mouth, the cogs clearly turning in his brain.  

“What if we proved that fake dating doesn’t always lead to love like people seem to think it does?!”  

You watch him for a solid minute, trying to wrap your head around this concept your best friend was suggesting to you.  

Fake dating?   Would people even believe that you two would date?!  

“Fake dating? I mean...” you trail off, fiddling with your ring, eyes averted to the table.  

“Y/N! It’s perfect!” The boy exclaims, grabbing your shoulders over the table. “Just think of it! It’s perfect, we can use extra media, like vlogs and shit too! We both know that there’s no risk that we could fall in love, so why not?”  

You couldn’t argue, even as you looked him in the eyes.  

He was right. He was always right.  

Plus, you two could use the bonus points of the extra media in the presentation.  

“Fine,” you hold out your hand, catching his in a firm handshake. “I swear that we will prove that this fake dating shit doesn’t end in love.”  

“Here’s too that.”  

13 days. That's all would only be.13 days of fake dating your best friend; Hwang Hyunjin.  

_______

i

What had you expected?  

Things run as they normally do during the first 24 hours of the project.   Honestly, if fake dating Hyunjin was going to be this easy, you would’ve signed up for this years ago.  

With no relationship knowledge under your belt, you certainly knew that having a relationship couldn’t be this easy, right?  

Though you two were set on making an “itinerary of dating” for your project, you were happy with the way things were going. At first, you’d thought that this whole relationship thing was going to be overwhelming, and astoundingly difficult. But, things were still oddly normal around you two.  

That is until he pulled the camera out.  

Amidst a vlog type video, he looks over at you, the movie on the television loud in the background.  

“What?” You groan, covering your face, trying to shy away from his camera lens.  

“We should start the project. That involves filming the process, remember Y/N?”  

You groan in response, now pulling the blanket over your body, one hand still covering half your face.  

“Hey! We should cuddle, just like normal couples do when they watch movies.”  

Now your hand drops, Hyunjin’s camera capturing both your faces to gauge your reactions to this whole fake dating scenario.  

“I searched it up and found an article that said the first thing a lot of couples do is cuddle, and hold hands. It’s like the building blocks of a relationship.”  

“Aren't Chan and Felix coming over soon though? Aren’t you guys studying?”  

“Yeah, but we have to tell them at some point. Remember, we’re dating now.”  

You’re silent, pulling the blanket closer to your body now, eyes meeting his.  

“Can you put the camera away? This just feels so wrong.”  

He sighs, lowering his phone to press stop on the video, eyes back on yours.  

“We have to document this Y/N.”   “I know,” you say defensively, curling tighter into your legs. “But it's just...”  

Now he’s concerned, pushing himself across the couch to sit down next to you, a hand resting on your shoulder.  

“Hey, if you’re not comfortable with this idea, we can just change it.” “No, no, no. It’s not important. Let’s just drop it.”  

His head drops to catch your eye, concern written on his features.   “Y/N, what’s going on? You can tell me you know.”  

You sigh now, eyes closing as you let your body relax into the pillow behind you.  

“I don’t know if I’m right, for this project, I mean.”  

He’s confused, silence urging you to continue on, explain more.  

“Hyunjin, you’re experienced. You’ve been in a relationship. I’ve never been in a relationship in my life. I have no experience. You know? I don’t know what to do, or how to act! It’s all new to me!”  

You sigh, trying to gather your thoughts.  

“I just don’t think I’m the right partner for this idea.”  

“Hey,” he takes your hand now. “I don’t care that you’re not experienced. I didn’t pick you for experience, I picked you because your my best friend, and we can learn together.”  

He moves a little closer, catching your eye again.  

“I’ll show you. I’ll be your teacher. You know what, don’t think of this as a project, but rather ‘Relationship Advice 101: The Basics’ okay?”  

You smile at the name, looking at him properly now.  

“You’d do that?”   “Of course.”  

The conversation stops there, comfort setting in as your big secret is finally off your shoulders, lightening your load and mood as your eyes trace back to the movie, interested in the characters.  

However, it seems your ‘Relationship Advice 101: The Basics’ class was about to begin, the boy tapping your shoulder before patting the space next to him, urging you to move closer.  

Shooting the boy a questioning look, you scoot over, throwing half the blanket over him as you do so.  

He wraps his arm over your shoulders, pushing you a little closer to him.  

Ah, cuddling. The first building block of a relationship.  

Its still, awkward even, for a few moments, both of you watching the movie, tense bodies brushed together.  

“Hey,” Hyunjin’s voice is gentle, nowhere above a whisper, his tone something you’d never heard before.   “You can relax a bit, you’re really tense.”  

“How?” You ask, unsure of how to get comfortable in such a position with someone who was only your best friend.  

“Well, you can move more into my chest more, so you’re comfortable. Just try and find a position that’s comfortable for you, don’t stress about me.”  

Giving an apprehensive nod, you turn into him more, a hand coming to tentatively rest on the boys' chest, head pressed to his shoulder.   His grip on you readjusts as you do, strangely comfortable.  

You let out a nervous smile.  

“This is kind of nice.”   “Cuddles are always nice.”  

And just like that any means of conversation diminishes between you both, gaze on the movie.  

But even your gaze on that diminishes, as does your ticking mind.   Your body relaxes more into Hyunjin as your brain shuts off for the night, worries as light as the night air.   ____

ii  

The sound of a ringing alarm draws you out of your dreams, a hand trying to find your phone in amongst the blanket.

The sound is cut off, making you give a small sigh of relief, settling back into your comfortable position.  

“Y/N.”  

You groan in response, fingers twisting with the blanket.  

A hand comes in contact with your arm, shaking your body slightly. You shoo it away, eyes clamped firmly shut.  

“Y/N, we have things to do today.”  

It's like all at once you’re hypersensitive of the owner of the voice, extremely aware of the grip in your arm, and where your head is rested.  

Opening your eyes you see Hyunjin in the same position that he was when you’d fallen asleep last night, your head still rested comfortably on his shoulder, hand splayed out on his chest. However, his attention is on his phone, fingers typing a response back to someone.  

You rip yourself from him, eyes wide.   He only gazes at you nonchalantly, sitting up.  

“You fell asleep.”   “And why didn’t you wake me?” You ask, eyes wide as you search for your phone.  

Your roommate was going to kill you for this.  

“You never get any sleep,” He tells you, soft tone enough to stop your franticness for just a second. “I didn’t wake you because you needed to sleep.”  

Giving him a small smile, your fingers find your phone, however, your gaze remains on the boy, eyes smiling at him.  

“You’re too kind Jin, but what am I going to tell my roommate. She’ll fry me for this.”   “We’ll we are ‘dating’ now, so you’ll just have to tell her you spent the night with your boyfriend.”  

His comment makes you splutter, eyes wide.   “Spent the night!?”  

Hyunjin only laughs at your state, pushing himself into standing position to tap your shoulder reassuringly.  

“We have a big day today, I’ll meet you at your apartment so we can work on this itinerary shit. The group wants to catch up too, Chan and Felix are asking questions."

Groaning as he leaves the room, you in turn also push yourself off the couch, gathering your things as you prepare yourself for the walk back to your dorm room.  

“See you soon then, Jin!”   “Bye Y/N!”  

Nobody questions a thing.  

From Hyunjin’s hand in yours to the way your roommate smiled when he’d come knocking at your door, your relationship seemed to be believable in the best way possible.  

Even your friends, when you’d sent the girls a frantic text on the group chat and shyly nodded to Hyunjin’s group, had congratulated you both in open arms, and the countless ‘I knew it’ statements.  

Any anxiety about actually getting away with the project had completely faltered, all you guys needed to do was keep the ‘dating itinerary’ safe away from the eyes of absolutely anyone.  

You guys had planned to go on three dates for a more reliable experiment, your last date being a somewhat fancy one for a more memorable experience.  

Any time in between the dates was filled with having coffee at the local cafe or watching a movie together. In the meantime, the day would be filled with working on the project together, linking the videos to the PowerPoint slide, writing a reflection, cross-linking with social theories.

It was a good plan, bound to work.   It had to work.  

_____

iii 

It was working. Everything was going smoothly.  

Four days had passed without a hitch, your credibility growing when people saw you holding hands in public, or when you’d hug each other goodbye for the day only to reunite at the coffee shop some 8 hours later.  

But your anxiety had ridden dangerously high when you’d received a text from Hyunjin during your lecture, reading “My dorm. Now. Urgent.”  

What had happened? Had your idea been canned by the teacher? Was he hurt? Did he not want to continue the experiment?  

Packing all of your things on the sound of the bell, you bolt off towards the dorm rooms, arriving at Hyunjin’s in no less than 3 minutes.  

You knock on the door, hard, eager to get inside.

It opens, a mildly stressed Hyunjin standing in its wake, his hair tousled as if he’d been running his hands through it over and over.  

You’d seen him like this before, but there was something about the crease in his forehead that makes your heart sink a little.  

With a wave of his hand, you’re invited inside, following him into the small kitchen, where Jisung, his roommate is sitting.  

Giving him a confused side gaze, you sit down as he does, waiting for someone to speak.  

Jisung holds up a piece of paper, one you instantly recognize, one that was an important piece in your experiment.  

“So you two aren’t together?” He asks, eyes tracing from Hyunjin to you.  

You don’t quite know how to answer, eyes wide as you look to Hyunjin.  

“I’ve explained it to him, briefly. I thought that it might help if you explain too.”  

“Oh...” you trail off, thumbs fiddling together.  

“Yeah. We’re not. Look Jisung, I'm sorry we lied to you. It’s for a project you see, we have to prove something wrong, and we chose to prove that fake dating doesn’t always equal in two people falling in love as everyone thinks.”  

He nods at this, processing.  

“And you guys obviously need everyone believing your dating for this to work right? All your friends? And the boys?”  

You both nod.  

“Right. Okay...” the boy trails off, sliding the sheet of paper back to Hyunjin.   “I’ll keep your secret. Don’t stress. You guys look so pale right now.”  

You and Hyunjin seem to let out a breath at the same time.  

“Thank you.” You whisper, hands pressed together as you smile up at him.  

Jin smiles too, patting the boy's arm as a sign of thanks.  

“Well, it seems that you guys have a date to get to right? Today’s what, day four? You should get ready.”  

Giving you both a smirk, he hits Hyunjins arm as he gets up with a wink.  

The other boy groans at this.   “He’s going to tease me about this non-stop now that he knows what we’re doing.”  

You shrug nonchalantly, your own small smirk on your features.  

“Sorry buddy, I have to get ready for our staged date.”   “I’ll meet you at 6 then? At your dorm?”  

You nod, bidding him a cheeky goodbye, yelling out to Jisung as you’re leaving too.  

At least the situation had become somewhat lighter, right? Now that Jisung knows, this experiment could only go the way you both wanted it too, to prove your points that love doesn’t always have to bloom between two close people.  

In an hour and a half, you’ve wiped off the grime of the day, replacing it with a skirt and some hoop earrings.  

On cue, you hear Hyunjin’s knock at the door right at 6pm.  

Shuffling to the door, you open it in a quick motion, struggling to get your earring in.  

“Hey, come in, I’ll just be one second.”  

You skip back to the kitchen, earring finally in place, grabbing your bag off the bench as Hyunjin waits in the doorway.  

“Did you film anything beforehand? I did a short one just about the fact we were going on a date.”  

He nods, eyes wandering around the dorm room nervously.   You sneer, hitting his side as you open the door.  

“She’s not here, I wouldn’t talk about something like this if my roommate was in the other room.”  

“Well, I wasn’t sure if you’d told her, after Jisung and all.”  

You shake your head, locking the door before following him down the halls.  

“Where are we going?”   “You’ll find out.”  

You let him lead you through the buildings, going up some stairs and through some overpasses, unsure of your final destination.  

Pushing open the door, he gestures for you to walk past him, your eyes wandering over the rooftop location.  

Sitting down on the bench seat, you can't but help marvel over the view.  

“I come here when I’m stressed.” The boy tells you, eyes wandering over the horizon of the university campus.  

“It's beautiful up here,” you comment. “Very calm actually.”  

“The sunset should be soon. It’s really nice from up here. I thought that this might make an alright first date for my fake girlfriend.”  

You can hear his smile, even see the way his eyes are shining. He was happy, happy that he was making you happy perhaps. After all, he was teaching you all these things.  

Was this what a first date always entailed? So many questions yet so many answers at once?  

He was right, as always. There was something about the way the sunset looked from up here that set it apart from everything in your life. Encircled in orange and pink hues, you two watch as they fade to a shining purple, the night peaking from under the clouds magnificently.  

You’re mesmerized, not just by the light show, but by Hyunjin's sincere gesture.  

“So this is what a date is like.” You speak, eyes never leaving the beauty of the sky.  

“It sure is,” the boy answers, turning to look at you. “Fake or not, I thought you’d actually like this.”  

“I love it. Thank you.”  

And with that, you two walk back through the nights breeze, lead back through the buildings to your dorm room.  

“I know I'm not the best fake boyfriend, but I’m glad that you liked it. It’s the best I could figure out without making it too awkward between us...” Hyunjin trails off, a hand resting on the back of his neck.  

But you smile, sincerely, throwing your arms around your best friend to trap him in your tight embrace of a hug.

A hug you rarely gave to anyone.  

“Thank you again.” You mumble, pulling back with a wide smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”  

He nods, features mirroring your own smile.   “I’ll see you then.”  

____

iv  

It seemed that your ‘date’ with Hyunjin hadn’t solved all the problems in the world like you’d originally thought, but rather the stress of any college student had hit you like a ton of bricks.  

Bad test scores.   Money trouble.   Lack of concentration.   Lack of sleep.  

All combined together, you were sure that this was a horseman of the apocalypse, a fifth more unforgiving one that was reserved just to torture college students.  

Sighing into your notes for the hundredth time, your attention came to rest on your phone, the text from Hyunjin almost comforting in its own strange way.  

“Okay, 4 days of M.I.A studying is enough. Date tomorrow. Wear something pretty. I’ll come to get you at 1.”  

You texted a reply, sighing as your head hit the desktop.  

Now you couldn’t get him off your mind.  

That was an issue you were sure you wouldn’t have to face in this experiment. After all, you two were only friends, right?  

When this experiment finished, things would go back to normal, as if they never happened. You’d been sure of it.  

But 7 days in, you really weren’t so sure.   Your heartfelt a certain way around him, and when he’d grab your hand, you had to will yourself back to civilization, back to the reality that this was only - and would only -be an experiment for your project.

Nothing more.  

Surely your feelings were just all part of the experience, the learning of the way of relationships.   Perhaps Hyunjin simply was just a good boyfriend.  

But not yours.   He wasn’t your boyfriend. He is your friend. Nothing more, nothing less.  

Shaking the thoughts from your head, you blink up at the 11.57pm illuminated on the screen of your phone, eyes tired.  

Perhaps you should go to bed.   It seemed tomorrow was going to be the biggest day of them all, and you’ll need all the extra sleep you can get.  

So you abandon your papers, and climb into bed, thoughts of Hyunjin never leaving your mind.  

___

v  

Slapping a hasty snooze on the alarm that has already rung its fourth course, you push yourself up into sitting position, head in your hands, tiredness sitting on your chest.  

Perhaps all those sleepless nights had finally decided to make their presence known.   And all on this particular day.  

Groaning into your hands, you run your fingers through your hair, grabbing your phone from the nightstand.  

You have 5 hours. Five hours to wake up. Five hours to get yourself ready. Five hours to wipe off all your grime and prime yourself up for a fancy date.

A date with Hwang Hyunjin - your best friend, your fake boyfriend.  

You were never the best with girly things, especially not your appearance.

Upon opening your closet, it was clear that you were out of your depth.   Unable to separate the whites from the pinks, you hailed your roommate in a mild yell, your crossed armed stance never faltering even when your roommate throws clothing at you to try on.  

Rather, your roommate takes the lead now, prepping you prime and pretty for your date, the dress something from her wardrobe, hair and makeup complete with her signature style.

1pm comes, Hyunjin's knock at the door only a few minutes late.   Your roommate is the one who answers it, greeting him with a smile, yelling for you to - as she puts it - “Hurry your ass up.” and “not keep your beautiful boyfriend waiting."

Even just the sight of him makes your heart flutter. Tall, dark and handsome, the boy looks considerably attractive in his suit.  

Silently, you swear at yourself for the thought.   You can’t think about this, not now. Not whilst you two were so close in proving your points.  

Hand-pressed into yours, he gingerly leads you to his car.  

“So where are we going?”   “You’ll find out.”  

You huff at his tight lips, wishing that he’d at least give you a hint, eyes staring eagerly out the windshield.

Pulling up some 10 minutes later at a lake, he gestures for you to get out, a smirk on his features when he sees your surprised expression.

So you open the door and climb out, never once breaking eye contact with the beautiful view as you wander forward, Hyunjin close behind.

“Wow.” you breathe, turning back around to face him, seeing that a blanket has already been laid down, but the boy is hidden behind the screen of his camera, lens focused on you.  

“Hey! You didn’t tell me you were filming!”  

He laughs at this, head popping out to face you.  

“I couldn’t disturb how marvelled you are.”  

You smile at this, eyes lingering on his for a moment before switching towards the open picnic basket.  

The camera is abandoned from his grip, hand held out to you now.  

With a small smile, you sweep your hair behind your ear, taking his hand as he guides you towards the blanket, gesturing for you to sit.  

With tousled hair and cheese and crackers, you watch the afternoon roll by over the lake.  

His phone is abandoned on the blanket, the containers empty.  

You were both quite comfortable, leaned back, light on the conversation.  

As the breeze hits your skin in goosebumps, you cross your arms in an attempt to keep out the cold.  

“Here.”  

Hyunjin already has his jacket off when you turn to face him, body close to yours as he throws it over you shoulders, fingers fastening one of the buttons.  

“No one has ever given me their coat before.” You tell him, cheeks tinted a heated pink.  

“Well,” he looks at you now, leaning back onto his arms, head lulled to the side to face you. “Everyone is just a douche bag then.”  

Giving him a small smile, you look down at the coat.  

“Thank you for this though. It’s beautiful.”  

“You’re more than welcome.” He pauses, making you look at him, but his eyes are trained on the horizon before you. “You know, I think that you deserve to be treated like this at least once in your life.”  

You don’t quite know how to answer, eyes faltering as he turns to face you, cheeks burning red.  

And it isn’t the last time you do exactly that.  

As the day dissolves into the evening, you find yourself relaxed into his shoulder, heart beating nervously in your chest as his head pressed against yours, legs sprawled out against yours but crossed at the ankle.  

“I know I’ve said this,” you whisper, “but this is seriously the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me, fake or not.”   “You’re most welcome Y/N.”  

Head pulling away from yours, you two find yourself in that same scene that was in every romantic movie you’d ever seen.  

That one look that is so adorning, so love-filled. The one look that builds the tension in the air, but just the right amount.  

You also know what comes after this type of look.  

This was easily where you two were meant to kiss, bodies moving closer like magnets, the kiss sweet.  

But this time, it’s not like that.  

Breaking away from your eyes, the boy looks back at his car than to his watch.  

“We should probably head back. It is sort of late.”  

You nod in agreement, aware of the awkwardness in his voice, helping to fold the blanket as he packs up the basket.  

Even the ride home is awkward, just what you were initially afraid of.  

Determined to break the tension, you suggest walking him back to his dorm, which he only laughs at.  

“You know that it’s normally my duty to do that.”   “Well Mr Hwang, I want to break this tradition of yours.”  

So he lets you, basket abandoned in the car, the sound of your clacking heels in the car park almost as loud as the silence between you as you two walk.  

Pulling out his keys he unlocks the door, pushing it open just a crack.   “Why don’t you come in?”  

You look up from the floor, eyes wide.   “You’re sure?”  

Perhaps you say it a little too eagerly, because his eyes cresent into moons, smile wide as he nods.  

Throwing the keys somewhere on the bench, you’re invited into the familiar room, the boy waving you to follow him to his room.  

“You left something here when you were the other day.”  

“I did?” You question, racking your brain for what it might be.  

Plopping onto his bed, you watch as he wanders around the room, racking through the draws of the tallboy.  

“Ah!” He exclaims, holding out something in his palm to you.   Two little gold hoop earrings lay flat, your eureka moment hitting you as you remember taking them off when you two were watching movies.  

“Oh! I remember taking them off!” You exclaim, taking them wide a wide smile.   “Thank you!”  

He smiles, plopping down next to you, shoulder touching yours, sleeves now rolled up at his elbows.  

“You look tired,” Hyunjin tells you as you lay your head on his shoulder, eyes slowly closing as your body relaxes.  

“I am tired.” You reply, mumbling.  

His head comes on top of yours again, his body relaxing too.   “Me too.”  

You’re not sure how long you two are sitting there, but you’re awoken by some shuffling.  

Eyes opening, you realize that you’ve both fallen asleep, Hyunjin’s head still rested on top of yours, breathing slow in your ears.  

In the crack of light peaking through the doorway, a tired Jisung passes along the doorway, shoes in his hand.  

Upon seeing your open eyes, he presses a finger to his lips, smile wide at the sight of you two.  

Within a haze of sleep, you smile back too, eyes closing once more as sleep bites at you, luring you back into the darkness, and the arms of none other than Hwang Hyunjin.  

___  

vi  

The countdown is slowly diminishing before your eyes, mind stuck on passing your exams, rather than your project with Hyunjin.  

If you didn’t think about him, that would make this ordeal easier, right?

It would make the project easier to present. It would fill the “going back to friends” with some normality that you could fathom.  

Everything was ready to go, other than your hypothesis.  

It seems that falling for Hyunjin was easier than you’d thought.  

“Y/N! You have to come to the party!”

You roll your eyes at the boy, taking another swing of your coffee.  

“But why? You know I hate them! Chan’s parties are just too much most of the time!”  

“Because now that you’re my girlfriend, you have to come to the party’s I’m going too! It’s like the code!”  

You roll your eyes again, shaking your head.  

Hyunjin stops your walking with a hand on your shoulder, pleading look glinting in his eyes as he presses his hands together.  

“Please? Come with me? I’ll buy your coffee for a solid month. And you can choose the next movie on movie night!”  

This makes you smile a bit, the offer a ray of sunshine in your broke college lifestyle.  

“Fine. Only because I have no money,” you tell him. “But you have to promise to actually do that.”  

“Of course, I promise.” The boy says, wrapping his pinky with yours.  

Splitting ways, you head off to your next class, the remainder of the day a headache and a half.   The last thing you wanted to do was collect yourself for a party after such a long day.  

Sighing to yourself, you throw your bag at the bed, getting yourself ready for the night ahead.  

Upon arriving at the party, you’re beginning to realize just how shit parties are when your sober, you early morning presentation holding the two of you captive, locked away from any of the drinks.  

Weaving through the flurry of people, you crane your head for even a look of Hyunjin - or any of the boys for that matter, music as loud as the swaying bodies and terrible singing.  

“You’re Hyunjins girlfriend right?”

Whipping around to the girl who has tapped your shoulder, you ignore the urge to roll your eyes, Clarissa and her so-called possy knitted together tightly behind you. If college was high school, these girls would be the “popular group”, the biggest bitches to have ever walked the earth, living proof that people don’t just grow out of wanting to stick their noses into everyone’s business.  

“Yeah,” you nod, pulling to the side of the room. “I am.”

She smiles, one of those honey smiles, sticky with fakeness.   “Good. But, you know. I’ve been asking around, and it seems that you two have never actually kissed.”  

Is this girl serious?   She’s wasting her time buy inquiring if you and Hyunjin have kissed?  

“Just so you know, it’s none of your business.” You tell her, a lie on your tongue. “But yes, we have kissed, in public too, Clarissa.”  

“Well that’s a relief,” she sweats, giving you another sugar-coated smile.   “Because there’s a rumour going around at the moment, but I’m glad you can dispel them Y/N.”  

“What’s the rumour?”  

Hyunjins body is close to yours, hands resting on your shoulders, voice loud as he speaks.  

You can almost hear the venom in his words, see how his eyebrows are raised in false interest.  

“Oh,” she sighs, eyes flicking to the side before she leans in, hand half-covering her mouth. “People think your fake dating.”  

“Well, that’s bullshit and you know it.”   His words are straight to the point, hand taking yours.   “The boys are over here, come on.”  

And so you let him whisk your anxious self away, her words fresh in your mind.  

Your whole cover could be blown with this one rumour, whether she knows or she doesn’t, you have to make sure she doesn’t let this one slip.   But how? You weren’t quite sure.  

Rolling your eyes at your lack of solutions, you shoot a friendly smile at the group, who grow closer with every footfall.  

“What the fuck did Clarissa want with you?” It’s out of Felix’s mouth as soon as you’re close enough to here him, a disgruntled groan leaving yours as a response.  

“That bad?”   “Worse.” You answer Minho, a hand running through your hair.   “She was telling us that there’s a rumour that we’re fake dating.”  

Chan’s eyebrows furrow, the party holder putting his cup down.   “That’s complete bullshit. There’s no rumour.”  

You nod in agreement, giving him a half-smile.  

“Ah, so that’s why you two have a stalker.”   Jisung is leaning on the counter, cup tilted in the direction of someone, both you and Hyunjin turning to stare down a grinning Clarissa.  

This girl was going to be the bane of your soon-to-be hangover.  

You groan, quickly plucking up Chan’s abandoned up, and swallowing whatever it’s contents is the boy giving you a surprised look.  

“Hey, we’ve got a presentation tomorrow.”   Hyunjin tells you, hand on your shoulder.  

“Doesn’t matter. The only way to get rid of Clarissa is to get drunk,” you wiggle your fingers. “Then she’ll magically fade into the distance.”  

“Okay okay, You're officially cut off madame. No alcohol for you tonight.” Chan tells you, stealing his cup back, eyes narrow.  

You sigh, nodding, Hyunjin patting your back softly.  

The conversation drifts, you sitting down on one of the chairs, eyes watching over “Queen Bee” and her crew with a narrowing intensity.  

“Hey, stop! Don’t stress about her!” Jisung’s fingers come in front of your face, your gaze going to the boy.  

“It’s sort of hard not too.” You whisper, lips tight as your eyes wander around the group.  

He gives somewhat of a sympathetic smile.   “I know. But it’s only a few more hours. Don’t stress about it. Everything will go fine tomorrow.”  

You take his words with a smile, eyes landing on a quiet Hyunjin who stands across from you, fingers fidgeting with his ring, spinning it around.  

Catching his eyes, you stand, wandering to his side.  

“You okay?”   “Yeah. I’m fine.”  

Concern bubbles in your chest, but you know that now is not the right time to address it, perhaps you’d catch him later and ask again.  

“Oh, you’ve never seen them kiss either? How interesting!”  

You don’t even bother looking behind you, rolling your eyes at her words.  

“Don’t listen to her, She's bullshit.” You tell Hyunjin, eyes landing on the boy.  

But now he seems more uncomfortable than before, jaw clenched, eyes avoiding as if he’s weighing up something in his mind.  

“Fuck it.”   As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he’s turning to you, body close, as his lips touch yours.  

You’d always expected that kissing Hyunjin might feel like fireworks or explosions of some kind. But it was neither of those, rather a calmness, a safety net. It felt right. It was as if your world had been spinning around you, but suddenly just fell into place, into a perfect rhythm.  

And this was it. You’re kissing Hwang Hyunjin, your best friend. And nothing would ever be the same again.  

___

vii

“Oh, okay.”   Jisung’s comment is all you hear, your eyes wide on Hyunjin, barely focused.  

“I’m going to leave now.”  

Although it’s clearly shut up Clarissa’s commentary, you can’t quite comprehend the last few seconds, bag slung over your shoulder, back turned to the group as you make your way, quick smart, out of the party.  

Your mind screams at you. This was a dealbreaker, a complete and utter violation of what you two had agreed to.  

How are you supposed to get up in front of your entire lecture hall in less than 9 hours and blatantly lie about your feelings to the boy standing next to you?  

The wind runs up your skin as you walk back to your dorm, heart beating heavily inside your chest, swarming with various emotions.  

Anger. Rage. Jealously. Hurt.   You hurt more than anything.  

“Y/N!”  

You don’t dare slow your pace at the sound of your name, wind-cold, eyes teary.

“Y/N! Hey, wait up!”  

He’s closer now, footsteps echoing across the courtyard.  

“Wait,” A tug at your arm, stops you completely, body turning to face the boy.   He breathes heavily, eyes focused on you.   “Please wait.”  

Somehow, your heart still falters at his whispered words, eyes glued to his even in their watery state.  

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.” He starts.   “No,” you interject, voice cold. “You shouldn’t have.”  

“Believe me, Y/N. I know,” he looks around now, letting a small sigh slip through his lips. “But, hell, something just came over me. I don’t know if it’s just the fact I was too immersed in this fake dating business, or if it’s just the timing, but Y/N, you should know I wanted to kiss you.”  

You’re silent, eyes downcast.  

“And I know that it wasn’t the right time, nor place, but Y/N, I think that I’ve messed this project up entirely because I just can’t keep lying to you, or myself for that matter.”  

“What are you saying?” Your words come out a little harsher than you intend, but your bitterness seems to just flow out of your mouth. “That you like me? That you’ve been making up this crummy bullshit excuse of “oh I don’t feel anything for you.”? Do you know how much that hurt me? That I’ve been feeling like absolute shit because I’m holding this burden of the fact I’ve caught feelings for you?”

“No, I-”  

You cut him off in an instance.   “This is over, Hwang Hyunjin.”  

Turning away, you walk off from the boy, heart hammering in your chest, but he’s quick, arms wrapping around your waist, body pulling you into a back hug, chin pressed against your shoulder.  

You’re voice only cracks as you try to scold him, body giving up on fighting his grip.  

“I know I’ve ruined everything,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. “But Y/N, I really like you a lot, and I hate seeing you this upset because of me.”  

At first, you say nothing, trying to calm the wave of emotions splaying over you.   But that only leaves one remaining, on the rocks, for all to see.  

“I like you too.” You manage, letting a small smile slip onto your features.  

With the boy pulling away, you turn to face him, no longer boiling with anger nor sadness.  

“Can we do this again?” Hyunjin asks eyes lit up in a smile. “I’m Hwang Hyunjin, you’re once fake boyfriend, and certainly an asshole. But, I’d really love to be your real boyfriend, if you’ll allow me to be.”  

You crack a wider smile, giving the boy a small laugh.  

“But what about our project?”   “Fuck the project, all that matters is you at the moment.”  

And with that, he pulls you into another kiss, just as sweet as the first.  

Pulling back, you smile up at him, cloud nine flooding your vision.   “Fine, Mr Hwang Hyunjin,” You whisper.

“I’ll be your actual girlfriend.”  

[nutty1005]

(Fluff warning) Why is Xiao Zhan a god-tiered beauty? A deep shallow analysis…

Original Article:https://www.weibo.com/ttarticle/p/show?id=2309404476336126165027#_0 Original Author: 织世靳靳子

(TN: This is a fluff piece, written entirely by a fan to praise his good looks. There is also quite a fair bit of Chinese beauty standards in this. Enjoy the pictures!)

(TN: Also, beauty should be beyond gender boundaries.)

What properties should a god-tiered beauty have?

When you think of a god-tiered beauty, who pops into your mind immediately? Is this adulation, or is Xiao Zhan worthy of this praise?

When a person is considered a god-tiered beauty, it usually means that this person is flawless, but is this absolutely politically correct?

I think not.

Beauty comes from imperfection, and they do not need to be hidden, because vividness comes from such imperfections. Audiences can be very sharp – no matter how much “beautiful” labels you attach on a person, these labels will not stay if the person cannot uphold these labels. The entertainment business is full of attractive people, but when you remove the make up and filters, you can really gauge the true physical attractiveness of a person.

I got a lot of surprise studying Xiao Zhan.

When deciding if someone looks good, we do not linger on how big his/her eyes are, or how tall his/her nose is, but instead we look at the proportion and general aesthetic.

If you were to choose the magical touch on Xiao Zhan’s face, which feature will you choose?

I would choose his eyes.

The truth is that in terms of absolute size, Xiao Zhan’s eyes are not very big, but it stands out because of their aesthetically pleasing shape. 

The shape of his eyes appears to be almond-shape (but more stunning), with a full lower eyelid and rounded upper eyelid. This gives off a sense of innocence when he looks up. In addition, the the shape of his eyes slant downwards but the outer ends hook up, and with the shadows of his thick lashes, which brings his shape closer to what the Chinese call “Phoenix Eyes”. All in all, the shape of his eyes is one of the rarest eye shape – “Favored Phoenix Eyes”. 

The lines of his eyes have always been aesthetically pleasing, but this is further enhanced once he had learned to control his gaze (see X-Fire competition period). The focus of his face is on his beautiful and lively eyes, which elevates the entire aesthetics.

Inner eye corners are more rounded among the Chinese, but because his eyes are pointed and long, giving off a very oriental appeal.

If you study carefully, you will notice that his eyes follow an “S” line. His inner eye corners are rounded, the outer edges slant gently downwards but quickly end with an upward tilt. This is a very rare type of demure oriental beauty. His usual make up is very light and natural, but if there are additional touches on his outer edges, bringing emphasis onto the lines of his eyes, his aura will switch from harmless and innocent to sharp and aggressive. 

You probably cannot stop yourself from imagining dating him

When he is not smiling, you can feel that sharp and aggressiveness off him. He gives off a nobility aura and he can keep up his appearances at any event. 

In videos, his eyes are large and energetic, and so alluring, it is almost as though these eyes belong to an anime character or a CGI character. Given that we know that the camera would magnify flaws and moderate the overall aesthetic level, we can only imagine how he looks like behind that camera, and it is probably not that “normal good looking person” like he says he is. 

Xiao Zhan does not depend on strong features – his brow bone and nose ridge are not tall. 

Rounded features, not strong

If I were a famous director, I would be very satisfied with Xiao Zhan as an actor. In my Weibo pinned post, I spoke about how he does not depend on shading make up to sharpen his features, but instead, he depends on simply on lighting. This is evidence of his good bone structure. He does not have the standard issues of sunken temples or broad zygomatic bow (TN: the bone area to the side of the eyes) that are common among Asian faces; his zygomatic bow does not broaden sideways, but instead expands outwards proportionately. This advantageous bone structure shows itself most evidently in period dramas, where an aura of heroism is required. This balances out his soft features. 

This is an unedited raw image from a HD camera – his features are simply enhanced just by lighting

This face of his looks good in any lighting. Under paramount lighting, his cheekbones stand out and makes his face even smaller. (TN: Smaller faces are considered more aesthetically pleasing in Chinese culture.) Under rembrandt lighting, his gaze becomes more vivid, and the shadows from his nose and cheeks makes the picture more dramatic. 

The Chinese have 4 ways to describe dimensions on facial structure – tall, low, flat and sunken. Most Chinese faces have low nose bridges and sunken structure, and for those who have this, when seen on HDTV, their facial muscle movements can be very obvious. In the case of Xiao Zhan, his facial muscle movements are clean and his facial expressions are especially pleasing, even when expressing extreme emotions. In addition, he does not require special lighting and can even withstand odd lighting. 

Looks good even when expressing extreme emotions

This is the true meaning of “no bad angles”. 

This is a random screen capture off a HD video. Still beautiful.

Generally, if anyone of us takes a picture from this angle, we probably end up looking like crap, but Xiao Zhan looks as thought he had been touched by Aphrodite. His cheekbones is the olive branch from Cyprus; his lips are the roses from Damascus; his Adam’s apple is the shackles of Prometheus, Mount Kaukasos. From head to toe, he is the real life representation of the sonnets of Shakespeare.

His beauty is breathtaking.

He looks like he descended from anime-land, but yet more vivid than ever

At the same time, Xiao Zhan’s features are tight knitted and his eyes sit lower in his face. This gives him a general youthfulness, hence he seems a lot younger than his actual age. I have often felt that his face looks almost anime-like, and in some instances, his expressions make him seem almost unreal.

If we try to convert some of our favorite anime characters to actual humans, how would they look like? From the side profile, the eyes should be position lower, almost towards the middle of the nose bridge. However, it is very difficult for this to occur while maintaining proper facial proportions.

We can immediately see from this picture that the middle section of his face is not too long. A long middle section usually ages a person. 

Under further study, you will realize that the mouth-lip area of his face is not too short either. However, his philtrum (the midline groove in the upper lip) is deep and slightly pointed upwards, which moderates the length visually.

The shape of his lips are rounded, but given his sharp eyes and tall nose, the “roundness” and “sharpness” matches in equilibrium, resulting in him looking incredible whenever he smiles.

I am an art student and I am studying his features simply from the angle of an art model, instead of the angle of his fan. The conclusion I have drawn is that his facial features are simply outstanding. Plastic surgery may be able to change the facial features, but will not be able to change proportion; moreover, we know that Xiao Zhan did not go through any of that.

In general, people with good facial proportions will standout in a crowd, more so with Xiao Zhan, who has great features, and these will be especially brilliant after he has good control of his facial expressions.

You cannot hide the smile even if you cover the lower half of his face

Xiao Zhan is an expert in facial expressions control. His smiles can be viewed over and over again, and they are not easy to recreate – I have slowed down GIFs to capture his expression sequence.

When bringing forth a smile, he will move the muscles around this eyes to bring up the outer edges, and this brings the joy onto his face even if you cover the lower half of his face.

He pays attention to the movement of the muscles on this brow and the area around his eyes, such that he is able to pinpoint the emotions in this gaze. This is actually not easy to do such that it looks continuous and natural. 

The essence of facial expression control comes from knowing your weaknesses during the training done in front of the mirror, and correcting them. I’m guessing here that he spent a lot of effort in his training, not because he has a lot of weaknesses, but because he has always been very strict with himself. 

This is his signature smile. He has a multitude of combinations in his expressions, none of them fixed in any categories but serialized, and recreated in sequence when needed. If not for that fact that he sweats so much, I would have thought that he is an AI, but then again, could AI create this magnificence? I think not. 

Xiao Zhan’s signature smile is smooth and stunning – it captivates people because of his confidence and ease.

The entertainment business has always been filled with beautiful people, but what makes Xiao Zhan stand out is the purity in him. He stuns people around him his clear eyes and his innocent smiles – and we pray that he will never lose this.

I know this – with his good bone structure, he will remain handsome for at least another 30 years.

Xiao Zhan is not just a “top celebrity” of this area, but he will also become “that god of period dramas” some decades later, and he will continue to shine bright as an icon of this generation. 

[dragonhrte]

This Moment

Hey, I know I haven’t posted any new writing in a while college is brutal.

This fic is a result of the bnha spring time event that I entered a couple weeks ago hosted/ created by @bnhaclaimedmysoul​. This is my first event ever. 

I wrote this for @bnhawritten​, if you’ve never heard of her I recommend checking her out. She recently hit 500 followers, it was super amazing to see happen!

 Mirio is actually a character that I’m not all that familiar with, I hope that she likes it. Without further ado lets get to it!

If you don’t know already:

(Y/n) is your name

(f/n) is your first name

(l/n) is your last name

Word Count: 1,706

You close your eyes and take a deep steadying breath. The helter skelter that has been your life for the past year and a half or so has been leading up to this moment. The bridal chorus hasn’t started playing yet, but you open your eyes and see your mom and dad approaching you with their arms stretched out encompassing you in a warm embrace. They both take a step back, tears welling up in their eyes as they hold each other in silence. The adoration that you can feel from them is overwhelming and you feel a tear escape the corner of your eye. Before you know it, they’re streaming down your face.

“Ugh!” you quietly exclaim, “I don’t want to cry, they spent so much time on my make up, I don’t want to ruin all their hard work...”

Your parents both look at each other in amusement, your father placing a comforting hand on your shoulder as your mother cups your cheek and swipes her thumb over your teary face.

“Don’t think about that right now. Focus on taking deep breaths and calming down.” your mother says in a soothing tone.

“It’s fine honey, this is a big moment for you.” your dad says as he and your mother move aside so the make up artist can work their magic on you.

They pull out a compact from their pocket showing you their handiwork. You immediately lean your head back to keep from crying again, you look and feel so beautiful, it’s more than what you could’ve imagined. You give a weak, “Thank you” you tilt your head forward again, the dam of emotions quivering under the pressure, but you manage to stave off the tears threatening to spill down your face. The soft sound of the string quartet playing the bridal chorus makes its way to your ears. The thought of the extra expense paying off enters your mind and you shake your head lightly to clear away your intrusive thoughts. Wanting to think of nothing more than this moment, as you push your arm through the space between the elbow of your dad and his body, and you reach out for your mom’s hand. Your dad quickly handing you your bouquet of red roses, to hold in the hand interlaced with his arm, it’s a bit awkward, but doable.

Your father and mother step forward with you in tow as the staff at the venue open the french doors leading out into the fresh, spring air. You take your time as rehearsed, stepping in time to the music, grateful to your parents who are steady beside you. The sky in the gorgeous transition from the reds and oranges of early dusk to the blues and purples of early evening, the sun almost completely below the horizon. The lanterns placed strategically along the sides of the carpet cast a soft glow onto the path. You lift your eyes up and immediately lock eyes with Mirio. A dazzling smile gracing your lips as you look at the man standing before you. His blue eyes sparkling with what can only be described as utter devotion. Your eyes begin to tear up again taking in the sight of your soon to be husband under this beautiful canopy, festooned with flowers and colors.

The group of people surrounding you fall away as you reach the end of the aisle. Your mom gives you one final squeeze while your dad gives Mirio the strong-armed hand shake of approval and silent warning. Your parents step off to the side and the ceremony continues.

The entire time you feel the dam getting put under more and more pressure, especially with the look that Mirio keeps giving you. He pulls out his cue cards from the inside of his suit jacket, and looks up at you. He hasn’t even said a word before the first heart-wrenching sob makes it past your lips. A quick flash of concern and then a reassuring smile is on Mirio’s face as he begins his vows.

“(Y/n), at one point during our relationship we had come to a cross-roads concerning my genuine feelings towards you. Given how your quirk can affect emotions, I was worried that the amount of affection, love, and adoration I was feeling towards you was too intense. There is no doubt in my mind at this moment that these are my true feelings. Though you do have an amazing and powerful quirk, I don’t think it would be able to properly replicate the feelings that I have.”

A small chuckle comes from the crowd and Mirio continues.

“I am so lucky that we got partnered up for that first case together, and that you accepted my offer to debrief over some coffee. Maybe it’s my quirk but I found my way past your walls and saw the most beautiful person. I am glad that we were able to enjoy all those wonderful moments leading up to this one.”

You feel the ugly cry situation starting, and it is futile to attempt to cover it up, so you just let it happen. You take a couple moments to compose yourself, thankful for the box of tissues your close friend was mindful enough to stash behind the lectern. You grab a fistful, haphazardly dabbing at the corners of your eyes. The nervousness you have been feeling all night has bubbled over into an overwhelming mix of emotions. You finish dabbing at your eyes and then open your moth to speak, but your words get caught in the lump of emotion that has formed in your throat after your beloved said his vows. You clear your throat awkwardly a few times, you breathe in and take the cue cards from your hand holding the bouquet and start to read.

Your voice quivers a bit, but grows steadier, “Mirio, I could go on and on about the amazing person you are and how lucky I am to have you, which isn’t unwarranted, but doesn’t properly capture the essence of our relationship,” you look up at him through your lashes a smile makes its way onto your face, “I will say this though, you always seem to know exactly what I need emotionally, even without me using my quirk. You lift me up when I feel down, even on my darkest days, your sculpted arms probably have something to do with that.”

You emphasize this by caressing his arm, which he playfully flexes under your touch.

You grab the bouquet with both hands, and say the next words unscripted, “While these parts of you are amazing there is something that I’d like to address. I’ve been asked a lot over the past year and a half how I knew ‘you were the one’. The answer is, ‘This Moment’. There is no individual exclusive instance that I ever consciously realized that you were the one, you made that happen with each and every successive moment since we met. Our relationship is built on multitudes of little moments. I am in love with you in each and every one of them. We will continue to grow our new collection of moments as husband and wife, but each will be this moment.”

My close friend clears their throat and says, “We are gathered here today to witness the union of two stars, two individuals that light up the people that they interact with, both at work and in their personal lives, giving a different definition to the term Plus Ultra.”

They turn to us with a wide smile on their face, and say, “Do you Mirio Togata, vow to take this woman, to love and to cherish her in good days and bad?”

“I do.”

“Do you (f/n, l/n) vow to take this man, to love and cherish in his good days and bad?”

“I do.”

“Please present the rings.”

“Mirio reaches into his suit jacket once more and pulls out the two rings, he hand you his own ring, which despite being in his jacket pocket, is cool to the touch. Mirio reaches out for your left hand and you place your hand in his, he slides the ring onto your finger slowly as if trying to memorize every bit of this moment. You in turn stretch out your hand and he places his large hand in your own, you take the ring and slide it up his finger, the gold stark against his skin. You stay like that hand in hand as you hear your close friend say, “By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife! You may now kiss!”

You stand on your tiptoes wrapping your hands behind his head as his hands slide around your waist, his lips crashing down on your own. The force conflicting with the overall tenderness in the kiss, deep and slow, starting your future of moments together off with a spark of passion.

You wake up with a start, groggy, and disoriented from the vividness of your dream. You move to stretch and catch a glimmer on your left hand, and your right arm brushes up against a familiar body next to you.

The events of the evening after the wedding had gone by in a blur.

After the kiss you had been whisked down the aisle from whence you came into the reception area of the venue. The toasts that were given were heartfelt and emotional, initiating yet another onslaught of crying from you. You had cut into the cake together, and although it might seem childish you opted for your favorite flavor of ice cream instead. The chocolate chip and the crunchy bits that are usually added only to ice cream cake adding that delicious crunch to go with the delectable smoothness of the vanilla ice cream. The night was filled with laughter and fun, a relief after the intense nerves you had to deal with earlier in the evening. Dancing with Mirio, both of you incapable of dancing all that well was a lot of fun. You had a great time dancing and singing with all of your friends, family, and close coworkers, but enough was enough. Eventually you called it quits drained from the numerous crying sessions and running low on energy after interacting with all those people. Yes, more people had shown up than you had originally intended, but that’s what you get when you fall in love with someone who has such a bright personality. Immediately afterwards you both headed to the honeymoon suite at the hotel, you had some assistance getting out of the beautiful, satin, white ball gown and slipped into something more comfortable.

You smile at the recollection of everything that happened last night, your eyes lighting up in delight at welcoming in all the new moments to come, as you snuggle back into the covers.

[dweemeister]

A Letter to Three Wives (1949)

In another time, during my mid-twenties, I would be considered old to have never married. Millennials, in their young adulthood, have stared down an economic crisis and now a pandemic that has encumbered societies in unprecedented ways. The median age for a first marriage has never been higher. Go back to the years after World War II in the United States and one will find a record amount of marriages (and divorces) among those in their early twenties. Marriages then and now test the forces of attraction as they ebb, survive disagreements, temptation, differences in character and values. Few other films capture that essence as well as Joseph L. Mankiewicz’s A Letter to Three Wives. Released by 20th Century Fox, A Letter to Three Wives is set in an idyllic, upper-crust suburban America – a reality most Americans are unfamiliar with. Yet, the tensions in this drama are deeply felt, and the anxieties of the three wives are shown with extraordinary compassion and understanding.

Somewhere in what looks like upstate New York (still close enough to drive to the Big Apple and back in a day), Deborah Bishop (Jeanne Crain), Rita Phipps (Ann Sothern), and Lora Mae Hollingsway (Linda Darnell) are volunteers who are about to take an annual riverboat ride for the underserved children in the community. Lunches have been prepared. The children are running up and down the decks, excited for a weekend of play. The ship’s engine sounds ready for cast off. In this town of enormous two-story homes, spacious front yards, old trees overlooking residential streets, and a quaint Main Street, even cosseted families help their neighbors in need. Before embarking, they receive a letter from their friend, Addie Ross (who is never fully seen; voiced by Celeste Holm), saying that she is leaving town with one of their husbands. She does not specify whose husband has she run off with: Bradford “Brad” Bishop (Jeffrey Lynn), George Phipps (Kirk Douglas), or Porter Hollingsway (Paul Douglas; no relation to Kirk). 

After reading the letter, Deborah, Rita, and Lora Mae decide not to speak about it for the rest of the trip, so as not to spoil the mood. During the trip and picnic, all three wives reminisce about their marriages as if they fully expect it is their respective husband – each of whom has, at one point in the past, admitted attraction to Addie Ross – who has been unfaithful. What could possibly have gone wrong, they wonder as they remember. This is shown in three lengthy flashbacks before the trip concludes and the women return home.

Already boasting breakthrough hits with Dragonwyck (1946) and The Ghost and Mrs. Muir (1947), Mankiewicz would find himself among the elite of 20th Century Fox’s directorial lineup with A Letter to Three Wives. Joseph L. Mankiewicz served not only as director, but as screenwriter in this adaptation of A Letter to Five Wives by John Klempner – too many wives, said Fox studio head Darryl F. Zanuck, as writer Vera Caspary adapted the story for four wives and Mankiewicz eliminated one more. Indeed, given how this film is organized, five wives are too many and four would be a stretch. Mankiewicz and Caspary’s treatment of the three stories manages to tie each wife’s/married couple’s story to the others, while retaining each marriage’s distinct dynamics.

First is Deborah. Played by Jeanne Crain, she is a U.S. Navy veteran, having served in the Women Accepted for Volunteer Emergency Service (WAVES) and met her now-husband, Brad, while in the Navy. Her flashback takes us to the time when Brad introduced her to his friends’ circle and the country club’s social for the first time. Being out of uniform and donning a formal dress is an alien concept to her, and she is worried about making a fool of herself in front of Brad’s friends and everyone gathered there. There are hints in this first vignette of a class divide between Brad and Deborah, but this is never expounded upon for Deborah (Lorna Mae’s segment will lean into this). Nevertheless, the screenplay confronts Deborah’s fears about being the new girl, imposter syndrome, and her social anxiety. This could be treated as a punchline, as some 1930s and ‘40s films were more inclined to depict. But the writing and Jeanne Crain’s unsettled visage in her performance treat her feelings with legitimacy, acceptance, and good humor. Deborah’s flashback in A Letter to Three Wives sets the tone for the film: always rooted in humanistic drama, but not without some gentle comedy.

For Rita and George Phipps, their scenes together are more confrontational, with the other trying to assert as much control in their off-kilter lives as they can. She writes for radio dramas; he is a schoolteacher in language arts. She wants him to secure a higher-paying job (as if their comfortable house isn’t already enough, apparently); he feels like he has found his calling in teaching and think radio drama writing makes a mockery of great literature. Viewers more attuned to the politics of gendered pay differences might find George’s assertions to be backwards. The fact that it is even shown at all in A Letter to Three Wives upends the stereotypes of a male breadwinner – while not portraying the husband as a jobless ne’er-do-well – is remarkable, regardless of artistic medium. Yes, this is always framed as Rita’s story, but it takes her and George’s concerns as seriously as the other. Again, we see Mankiewicz and Caspary treating both side of a married couple with all respect to what fulfills them professionally and personally – occasionally in a relationship or friendship there is a clash of interests, but it is up to both to work through those differences. Though not his finest performance, Kirk Douglas – given the rough-edged persona cultivated in his filmography – is perfect casting. Ann Sothern’s passive-aggressive delivery of her dialogue is a joy, as we know she means not to offend. Those who adore Old Hollywood character actors will notice an uncredited, scene-stealing Thelma Ritter during Rita and George’s vignette – her last uncredited film appearance before greater (credited) performances for her future.

With Linda Darnell and Paul Douglas starring, Linda Mae’s flashback was the least satisfying for me, but also the most comedic. Linda Mae is from a working family – the finances difficult, the home ramshackle. Her story is set before meeting Porter, who just so happens to be her wealthy employer. The ethics of a wealthy executive being engaged with a younger employee (this soon-to-be married couple appears to have the largest age difference of the three, even though the age difference between Jeanne Crain and Jeffrey Lynn as Deborah and Brad is similar) are murky at best, and the dynamics of their relationship deserves to be viewed rather than described. Their marriage is not one of convenience, nor one based on values, but it overcomes the class differences – illustrated hilariously – that should make their story together impossible. It appears Linda Mae and Porter are on unstable ground, speaking to the unease in her socioeconomic status and his lingering pain over a failed marriage. Mankiewicz and Caspary’s screenplay, for the first time, appears a little unsure about what to do with Porter – whose free-wheeling personality sees Linda Mae make fewer demands than her friends. The resolution may surprise some in its brevity (and I imagine some will take issue to it), but it speaks to the messiness of individuals and how love contorts and forgives.

Linking all three vignettes together is the unseen Addie Ross. Portrayed in voiceover by Celeste Holm, Addie’s presence reverberates around the film half-seriously, as the three wives wonder which husband has been poached. But most importantly, what unites the film is the friendship between Deborah, Rita, and Lora Mae. Credit the performances of Crain, Sothern, and Darnell (one of the best performances in a tragically shortened career). Each of their characters has the others’ backing – evidenced early on, when Rita counsels Deborah before the latter’s first night out in town. Their promise to not speak of Addie’s provocative letter until their trip is over holds, reflecting a predisposition to suburban secrecy and upholding gendered mores that say women are too emotional and should restrain emotional outbursts. Not once are the wives’ bonds to each other fractured. Though the wives are collectively silent, the audience knows that they must be going through that punched-in-the-gut feeling that everyone experiences sometime in their life. That this is depicted with such grace speaks to the masterful writing and a fantastic ensemble performance.

Had A Letter to Three Wives remained as A Letter to Five Wives, the wives would have been played by Gene Tierney (1944’s Laura), Linda Darnell, Maureen O’Hara (1947’s Miracle on 34th Street), Dorothy McGuire (1947’s Gentleman’s Agreement), and Alice Faye (Fox’s primary musical superstar in the 1930s) – all set to shoot in November 1946. Talk about a “who is who” of 20th Century Fox-contracted actresses! This is not to downplay the credentials of Crain or Sothern, but the former was a young actress yet to realize the heights of her career and the latter was best-known for the Maisie series at Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer (MGM, who loaned Sothern to Fox for this film). With Darryl F. Zanuck’s recommendation to revise the script to cut the film down to three wives, shooting did not begin until June 1948.

There is much that A Letter to Three Wives covers. From returning veterans to gender-coded expectations to class, this is a film attempting to make sense of a time when couples hurried to marry, with the United States’ economic boom extending into peacetime. Its flashback structure may seem a hackneyed thing almost seventy years later, but each additional segment layers poignancy to the past and present. So often overshadowed by Mankiewicz’s next film (some little thing called All About Eve), it has few rivals in Western cinema among films on marriage, in exultation and anguish. A Letter to Three Wives is Americana at its finest – not in blind celebration of these days long past of manicured lawns, dinner parties, and children playing until sundown; but in acknowledgment of human foibles that have and always will persist. It is the stuff that makes life interesting.

My rating: 10/10

^ Based on my personal imdb rating. A Letter to Three Wives is the one hundred and fifty-ninth feature-length or short film I have rated a ten on imdb.

[shinneth]

Gem Ascension Tropes (General: A - B)

Full, Superior Alternative on Google Docs.

So, I’ve been on the fence as to whether or not to publicly share this. In the end, it’s really nothing more than a project of self-indulgence. However, it is 100k+ words of self-indulgence and it does involve a story at least a decent number of my followers have read and liked. I also talk about a lot about Stevidot and all the characters in general for this project. Considering I haven’t written anything since the end of August (and real life interference is finally affecting my ability to reliably produce anything of substance since then), I figured it was only fair to offer something. I do still have the itch to write; I just really don’t feel comfortable doing it if I myself am not in a good state mentally or emotionally.

Why did I make this? Well, I’ve mentioned in the past that my other super-huge, much-more-popular story Travels of the Trifecta! eventually gained enough notoriety to not only make it to the Fanfic Rec list on TV Tropes, but a few readers were even gracious enough to make an actual trope page for the story itself. However, despite great temptations, I never once contributed to the page myself, for fear I’d never get the story done because of how addictive and time-consuming that site is. 

I was naively hoping Gem Ascension (or at least Bottled Up, which is easily my most popular story outside the main GA series) might get the same honors. But back then, I was also new to the fanbase and didn’t realize just how badly Stevidot as a ship was wrongfully considered an immoral ship... and still is. So that’ll probably never happen for real. 

That said, so long as I completed my initial 3-act series for GA, I considered it fair game to play around with tropes that I could associate with it. And I finished that sucker in record time. So, since the early months of Summer, I’ve slowly compiled a list of tropes for my GA continuity - so far for general coverage and character-specifics only. 

They’re similar to my GA Reference Tour posts in that aspect. Like I said, though, the entire document is over 100k in length, so no way is that all going up at once. The general listing is big enough to make me think it won’t fit in one post, either (especially as I continue to waste space rambling here). As the length alone proves, I was right to avoid doing this for Trifecta.

I wouldn’t consider it a complete (or even entirely accurate) listing; the character sections are very lop-sided in terms of content, but that’s a little justified, at least. Anyway, I did make some new art for certain character sections in future posts, so I figured this would at least be a neat way to share them. I’ve linked said tropes and everything. It’s really only worth a read if you’re that interested in getting some more in-depth details to the GAverse that I haven’t really covered here properly yet. But it does technically count as Stevidot content, so there’s the grab.

Beyond the spoiler cut, there are no marked spoilers. I’m not savvy enough to go THAT far with the style... plus, the main series has been complete since early March and it’s now October. Just... if you recently found the story, haven’t finished it, but actually intend to do so, look on at your own risk, I guess. 

Well, let’s see how much I can actually fit in here. And whether or not it’ll format properly. 

Edit: Turns out, only up to the K Tropes. Loooooovely~. Looks like I’m gonna play it safe and cut this after the Bs.

Edit II: As a bonus, I see the links being retained when I edit this post, but they won’t appear on the post itself. Just. Awesome. I may just put this up on Google Docs as an alternative if anyone cares that much about having the hyperlink access. That link is up. I’ll need to neuter these things something fierce so the hyperlinks will appear again.

GEM ASCENSION CONTINUITY TROPES

 GENERAL

 A Day in the Limelight: Act II as a whole functions somewhat like this; Hero Protagonist Peridot, save for the short final scene at the end of the act, is completely absent. She is frequently talked about and is featured in prerecorded Video Wills, but the 8 chapters Act II is comprised of are dedicated to the 8 remaining members of the main cast. Garnet, Pearl, Amethyst, Connie, and Steven – characters who had much less time to feature in Act I due to being captured during the first half – all have chapters entirely dedicated to them. Greg, despite being part of GA from the start, also had limited time to feature in Act I past Chapter 3 due to being a Non-Action Guy. His chapter is one of the longest; Greg is also involved in a subplot with Bismuth and Lapis, and as of Chapter 7, he receives a Rank Up and officially becomes a legit member of the Crystal Gems.

A Fate Worse than Death: Pallification. Not only worse than a gem’s shattering, but even corruption. It’s similar to corruption in that a gem is technically still alive, but their consciousnesses are greatly compromised. While a corrupted gem is more akin to a mutated rabid animal until a cure is found, a pallified gem’s body – while usually maintaining the integrity of its physical form – has been rendered soulless. Once White Diamond supplants their conscious minds with her own, she boots them out to parts unknown (she doesn’t even care enough for her own subjects to figure out what exactly she’s doing to their conscious minds) with no way for them to find their way back to their original body. It’s not even made clear whether or not a gem’s consciousness is killed off outright the moment White infects them. So, a pallified gem is basically condemned to eternal purgatory. Naturally, even after the events of GA, there are still millions of gems afflicted with this condition with no known cure to ail them. With White Diamond herself shattered at this point, these victims are little more than vegetables at best.

A Friend in Need: It must be stressed that the objective from the start of Gem Ascension was not to overthrow the Diamond Authority (and certainly not to destroy Homeworld itself): it was to rescue friends who were in trouble. Steven, Garnet, Amethyst, Pearl, and Connie were all imprisoned on Homeworld with no means to truly escape, so Steven resorted to sending an SOS to the Crystal Gems on standby on Earth. After taking charge of this mission, Peridot greatly emphasized their objective being a quick in-and-out after rescuing their friends as quietly as possible. Then the mission escalated with much higher stakes, but the objective remained the same. Act I concluded with all of the Crystal Gems safely escaping Homeworld and returning to Earth… save for Peridot. The follow-up mission, consequently, had the same objective: rescue Peridot, then escape. It was later amended to rescue all of Homeworld’s native gems once it was discovered that Homeworld itself was going to fall apart very soon. The revolution that came about with Homeworld’s destruction and the fall of the Diamonds were merely byproducts of the rescue mission. Only Pearl seemed to anticipate this kind of result, but none of the Crystal Gems were prepared to be responsible for keeping Era 3 going on Earth in Homeworld’s absence (as well as the Diamonds’). 

Acceptable Targets: In-Universe, the lower you are in the caste system on Homeworld, the more you’re expected to take abuse of any kind from any gem of a higher class. This is Who I Am goes further into depth on this topic; it’s revealed Peridots have no rights when it comes to being mistreated by gems above their class. Even worse, it’s illegal for a Peridot to antagonize a gem of a higher caste for any reason – yet it’s perfectly legal for elite gems, such as quartzes, to do whatever they wish to a Peridot so long as it doesn’t permanently damage them or compromise whatever mission they’re assigned together on. Yes, even if a low-caste gem is raped (like Peridot almost was), it’s legal and the victimized gem is fully expected to suck it up and deal with it.

Adaptation Expansion: Not only does the GA series serve as an alternative to Change Your Mind, but it frequently brings up events from past canon episodes. This isn’t done for nostalgia’s sake, but rather to expand on said scenes and observe them with a different lens. Through this, scenes in the show readers have seen multiple times can yield some new discoveries with the additional details and questions posed within the GA narrative.

Adaptational Alternate Ending: Takes place shortly after Escapism in the show. The first few minutes of Change Your Mind are canon to the fic (mainly Blue Diamond’s Heel-Face Turn), but it’s completely off the rails from there on out. So, it’s basically an alternative ending to Season 5.

After-Action Healing Drama: In Chapter 5 of Act I, after Peridot got caught in a No-Holds-Barred Beatdown with 9FC and sustained severe injuries in the previous chapter, the recently-rescued Steven uses Lion to take himself and Peridot somewhere private so he can heal her many injuries.

All For Nothing: The battle with White Diamond in Chapter 6 of Act III is this, as that wasn’t the real White Diamond to begin with. The Crystal Gems just wasted a load of time and energy on a proxy, and it’s the realization of this trope that causes said battle to abruptly turn in White’s favor, ending in a Curb-Stomp Battle with the Crystal Gems on the losing end.

Due to this aspect of the battle, it means Rainbow Quartz 2.0’s scheme to siphon off some of White Diamond’s essence (to later use for a cure for corruption and pallification when they return to Earth, knowing White’s never going to help willfully) was also a waste, and what Pearl and Steven gained was just the essence of a bunch of dead gems. Pearl has a bit of a minor Heroic BSoD in Chapter 7 over this, but Garnet pulls her out of it and encourages her to not give up on the endeavor.

All Up to You: The premise of Gem Ascension: Peridot, Lapis, Bismuth, and Greg step up to rescue their A-Team friends against all odds. 

Alternate Continuity: This story takes place shortly after Escapism. Beyond the first few minutes of Change Your Mind, it becomes canon divergent from there.

Anachronic Order: After Gem Ascension’s completion, a set of stories was released throughout the month of May that all took place in Gem Asension’s continuity (save for one, technically, which took place a while before GA starts and has no connections to said continuity outside of being referenced in a few of the other stories) for Stevidot Month. Justified, somewhat, as they were only released out of order due to representing at least one of three prompts assigned for the five weeks of Stevidot Month, and Word of God planned much of this on the fly. A couple of stories were pre-prepared (Plans Change and This is Who I Am’s first chapter), but didn’t fit any prompts other than the ones assigned to the final two weeks. Since May’s conclusion, all stories (in their AO3 incarnations) have been put in a collection and are arranged in chronological order.

Bottled Up is the only story that averts this, as it chronologically occurs before all the others listed here and was also the first one released in May. However, since it does take place a good amount of time before GA’s starting point, it can easily be read as a standalone. The same cannot be said for the stories following it.

My Time is Now, which properly introduces Sphalerite (who only got an unnamed, featureless cameo in Act III and spoke the very last lines of the story), takes place no more than half an hour after Act III’s conclusion, but it was also the last story released in May. 

Second-to-last was Plans Change, which took place only a few hours after the aforementioned story. 

This is Who I Am chronologically falls roughly half a week after that, but its first chapter was released in the middle of the month.

Peri-dise: The Capitalist Anarchy takes place about 1-2 months after GA Act III, making it currently second-to-last in GA’s overall continuity, but was the third story released overall during May’s second week.

It’s a Birthday, Yes It Is takes place in late August, making it the furthest-removed from GA’s timeline by 3-4 months (until the release of Our Tomorrow – a direct sequel to this story taking place exactly one year later, but won’t be listed here as it was made long after Stevidot Month ended). It was the second story released for Stevidot Month. 

Anyone Can Die: The moment White Pearl and Blue Diamond die (relatively close to the same time) by Chapter 6 of Act I makes it apparent no punches will be pulled in this story; especially after it’s made clear how much of a Complete Monster White Diamond is in this continuity. Yellow Diamond falls two chapters later, and at least for a short while it’s presumed Peridot met a similar fate. There’s also the concept of pallification, which renders several hundred gems functionally dead in Act I alone. The majority of the gems left on the planet end up pallified by the time the Crystal Gems return to Homeworld in Act III. By the climax of said act, White Diamond self-destructs. On a smaller scale, almost every original character introduced in GA either dies or is already dead upon introduction. 5XF is the only one so far who averts this.

Astral Projection: An aspect of Steven’s developing powers in Act III. During Chapter 4, an all-pink astral projection of Steven travels into Peridot’s subconscious to find out what White Diamond did to fragment her mind. A bit later in Chapter 8, astral projections of Steven and Peridot are seen superimposed over the corporeal forms of Pink Diamond 2.0 and Chartreuse Diamond to signify both coming to terms with their Alter Egos becoming part of them and becoming whole.

Autodoc: The restoration machines that are abundant and scattered across Homeworld, which the Crystal Gems use to speed up the recovery process for Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl at the end of Chapter 6 of Act I.

Badasses in Distress: All of the imperiled Crystal Gems at the start of the story qualify. After Act I, Peridot takes their place.\

The Big Damn Kiss: Steven gives Peridot a pretty significant one in Act I’s final chapter right in the middle of a large and busy battlefield before they split ways to help their friends. Punctuated with a deliberate Shout-Out to Gem Drill.

Big Damn Reunion: Chapters 6 and 7 of Act I is this, as is Chapter 5 of Act III for the follow-up rescue mission.

Birthday Episode: It’s a Birthday, Yes It Is serves as one for Peridot. It also loosely applies to Steven, as his birthday is less than two weeks before hers and is frequently referenced (the pair’s chronological ages are 14 and 15 respectively by this point). Our Tomorrow is a direct sequel to the aforementioned story taking place exactly a year later, making Peridot 15 and Steven 16.

Bittersweet Ending: GA’s conclusion in a nutshell. The Diamond Authority is no longer a threat to anyone, but Homeworld is destroyed, meaning the Crystal Gems have to directly deal with the fallout of this particular revolution while ensuring Earth’s safety. Now they have thousands, if not millions of gems to help adapt to life on Earth and teach the concept of independence and free thought. Homeworld’s colony planets are doomed to civil disorder and collapse unless the heroes directly help, but that also presents a risk if they don’t play their cards right. Peridot and Steven’s lives are irrevocably shaken in their own right, and they’re the ones who’ll have to be the most involved in helping the Homeworld refugees. And there’s still the matter of curing not only the corrupted gems, but now the pallids as well. While GA ended the best way it possibly could, given the circumstances, there’s still a lot of work ahead for the Crystal Gems… and a lot of it will be unpleasant/awkward at best and outright life-threatening at worst. 

Blank White Void: The nature of the Pocket Dimensions featured in Act III, save for the one Steven is initially imprisoned in at the end of Chapter 3.

[olympivnshq]

congratulations hanna !  we’re so glad to see someone applied for our boy ACHILLES!  we immediately agreed your application was amazing the second we laid our eyes on it  - and the fact you went above and beyond to research achilles’s lore was just so heartwarming. it was very clear you were passionate about the character in how you’ve captured his voice and essence effortlessly throughout the application. so, that said, we’re happy to have you with us with your first faceclaim choice: NEILS SCHNEIDER!

☆ﾟ*・ﾟ  OOC INFO.

I’m Hanna, a 22-year-old nerd hailing from the GMT +2 timezone. I love coffee and drunk crying because I couldn’t pet a dog once.

☆ﾟ*・ﾟ  DEITY  —  GENDER. AGE RANGE.

ACHILLES – MALE. 26 - 29.

☆ﾟ*・ﾟ MORTAL NAME. JOB/OCCUPATION. BOROUGH/NEIGHBORHOOD.

Austin Alexander Pelham-Niarchos, though for the sake of simplicity, he goes by Austin Pelham. Actor / Heir. Tribeca, Manhattan.

☆ﾟ*・ﾟ AESTHETICS.

deafening cheers of the adoring crowd. letting the waves wash over your feet. a confident posture, challenges welcome. lazy mornings with a lover. biting into fruit and cherishing the taste. gilded crowns. teeth bared possessively when you try to take something that is theirs. flippant eye rolls. the constant presence of paparazzi. bloodstained swords. the rush of adrenaline. a child living entirely in the moment, not caring about the future. cities decimated after a whirlwind of rage and grief. dividing your time between two homes. a silver spoon in his mouth. spite is a great motivation. golden curls that bounce as you run. screams loud enough to frighten the gods themselves. a heart tattoo on the crook of your arm. a grin as sharp as a knife. a blindfold covering your eyes at the critical moment. slender fingers skillfully manipulating the strings of a lyre. boys or girls? boys and girls. bones tainted with exhaustion. black sunglasses, black leather jackets, black jeans. it’s this or that – no time for in-betweens. death is a friend. whatever it takes. the dust in your competitors’ eyes as you run past them with ease. a tight, terrified grip on it so it won’t slip away.

☆ﾟ*・ PLAYLIST.

i. so in god’s son we trust/ ‘cause they know i’m gonna give ‘em what they want. ii. some legends are told; some turn to dust or to gold. but you will remember me, remember me for centuries. iii. if there’s light at the end, it’s just the sun in your eyes. iv. i’m gonna fight ‘em all / a seven nation army couldn’t hold me back. v. you people are mistaken if you think that i’m awake and celebrating anything that i’ve become.

☆ﾟ*・ HOW WOULD YOU PLAY THEM?

Achilles. It would be easy to focus on what is known of Achilles’ and conjure an idea of his personality through his deeds. A legendary child with a destiny that had even the gods themselves trembling. A ruthless and skilled warrior who, instead of being deterred by the crimson covering, was energized every time he was out on the battlefield. A stubborn and prideful man who was unafraid to close his eyes to the suffering of others if it helped him make a point. A fiery inferno of rage on a quest to avenge his beloved’s death. All these traits are a part of Achilles; there is no denying that. However, if he was reduced to only these, it would be a major disservice to his legacy. The aforementioned traits paint a portrait of a godlike creature with very little humanity in them. That is not who Achilles is, though. He was half-god, yes, but he was also mortal and had traits which highlighted this part of him. Achilles was a trusting child, for he had been told from a young age that he would be great and, therefore, had little to nothing to fear. He was a natural performer with an innate power, a way with words, to captivate people and draw them in. He was a fearless leader unafraid to fight beside his men instead of forcing them to fight his battles for him. He was a man in love – and oh, did he love ( & grieve ) deeply. Achilles was a man who made mistakes and, consequently, despite his invulnerability, suffered the horrifying consequences of those actions. Did he deal with those consequences well? That can be contested. But in the end, he did learn from his mistakes, even if it was slightly too late. But that just proves that, despite his demigod status, beneath the expectations of greatness placed on his shoulders at a young age, Achilles was human.

Austin. The memories of Austin Alexander Pelham-Niarchos indicate a story eerily like the original hero. The only son of a US Army General and a Greek heiress to a shipping empire, Austin’s destiny seemed clear from the start – enjoy the opulent life, join the Army, and become the greatest hero this nation had ever seen. This was the path laid out for him; and Austin accepted it with a casual shrug of his shoulders before resuming his daily adventures as Manhattan’s boy king. Some called it arrogance, some called it indifference – but truthfully, that reality felt like a distant dream, years away, so of course a child could not be bothered to focus on it for too long. And so did Austin’s rich kid life – education in the best institutions in the world, money, fancy clothes, fast cars, and a large crowd of adoring sycophants. While he did enjoy the advantages granted to him, he could not shake the feeling in the back of his mind that something, or perhaps someone, was missing. This obstacle, nevertheless, was not powerful enough to complicate his future plans, but as he graduated from Harvard University, one such challenge did arise. She had never before openly objected Austin joining the Army when the time came, but suddenly his mother was vehemently against it. His parents had a major argument over it, yet Austin remained indifferent – this was not, after all, the first time his parents were quarreling. He was even less interested in getting involved when his mother, through her connections, got him his major role on the silver screen. Acting hadn’t been a profession Austin had seriously considered, but it did not take long for him to get swept up in the glamour of it. Specializing in action or war films due to his athleticism and ability to fight, Austin knew he had found his calling. Sure, some people called him a particular personality ( a polished way to call him a stubborn, somewhat single-minded asshole ), but what could they do to him? He has millions of fans screaming his name, he’s Hollywood’s moneymaker even after several years in the business, and he gets the job done in a way no other can. Even now, when he’s on a break after finishing shooting next spring’s major blockbuster film, Austin feels like he’s a god at the dawning of the world.

answer these questions:

1. Are they more likely to stand with the pantheon or against it?: I’d say Achilles is quite indifferent towards the matters of Pantheon. Despite being a demigod himself, he holds no special love for them; this was evident after Patroclus’ death when he willingly defied them in order to avenge his beloved. Gods are, in Achilles’ mind, a messy and dramatic bunch (a bit rich, considering what a drama queen Achilles himself is) and he does not have time for that. He fulfilled his destiny back in Troy; now he just wants to live his best chill life with Patroclus without the interference of the gods.

2. what is their stand on mortals?: Mortals > gods. 100%. Achilles is half-mortal himself, so how could he ever despise them? Furthermore, several things in his life swayed his opinion toward pro-mortal. Firstly, when the quest for glory was his main goal in life, he preferred mortals because they would be the ones responsible for ensuring his legacy would remain alive. To gods, he knew, he’d be just another hero. Mortals, on the other hand, would revere him in the years to come. Secondly, Achilles wouldn’t want to live forever without Patroclus (and there’s basically no way for Patroclus to become a god), so that’s another reason why he would rather stand with the humanity than the gods.

☆ﾟ*・ SAMPLE PARA (OPTIONAL)

              he has barely set a foot inside the bar; his hand still rests on the door, holding it open. not everyone within the establishment, but already austin can sense that, within a few seconds, all the attention will be on him. an arrogant observation, perhaps, but a truthful one as well. readying himself for this encounter, his lips twist into his trademark smile ( a cheshire cat, and a veil of secrets all in one ) mere second before he lets go of the door. it clicks closed behind him and, as if compelled by the sound, everyone’s heads turn toward him. the heir observes their wide eyes, their not-so-subtle whispers for a moment ( a cheap source of amusement ) before he strides toward the bar with purposeful steps. with graceful movements, he hops on to a bar stool with ease and lifts his hand to catch the attention of a bartender. “i’d like to have—,” austin considers. his expression turns serious before an idea hits him. he glances at the glass of the person next to him, “— whatever they’re having.” the bartender nods and as they leave to make him his drink, austin shifts so that he’s facing the person whose drink idea he just borrowed. “aren’t you going to tell me what exactly i’ll be drinking?”

☆ﾟ*・ ANYTHING ELSE?

Here’s my pinterest board!

[kellanved-ammanas]

Artistic Chapter Two of Four: Prefect Drawing

After that Scout made a point to hang out with Sniper more. He understood and knew about Scout’s broken heart and was willing to distract him from it. And well, he’d volunteered to find Scout and comfort him, which meant he liked Scout, right? They were good friends. He’d always been one of the better people on the team to talk to and hang out with anyway since he wasn’t busy doing stuff all the time and was always easy to find since while not in combat, he was more often than not in or around his campervan or at the shooting range, practicing. So, hanging out with him more was actually quite easy.

At some point, Scout wasn’t sure when, he got over Pauling. Not overnight or even in a week or two but still faster than he would’ve thought he would. He still found her attractive but in that way he could look at someone and say they’re hot without feeling any further attachment. And he still liked her just not like that. They could be friends or at least work acquaintances and he’d be happy with that.

He noticed this when upon sitting down to doodle his first thought of what to draw wasn’t Pauling but Sniper’s campervan instead – it was a bit beat up, giving it character, it’d be fun to draw. It was odd but… he wasn’t going to question it, getting over being rejected was a good thing. He’d been a fool for thinking that Pauling might ever go for a guy like him anyway. He was an idiot who couldn’t even read properly, no one as smart as her would ever be interested in someone as dumb as him like that regardless of their sexuality.

And now he’d gone and made himself sad again, great. The kind of sad that came with knowing he’d never find love, he was too stupid for anyone to ever be interested in him like that. That was fine though, he was done with this whole romance nonsense thing. He wasn’t going to fall for anyone like that ever again, it’d just end the same exact way as all his potential other romances had; heartbreak. So… everything was just fine, no more being upset, no more falling in love with people who couldn’t possibly feel the same way. He was going to draw Sniper’s van instead and maybe a kangaroo next to it with a desert background – Australia was mostly deserts, right? – and get on with his life.

-

The next day he brought his drawing to compare it to the real-life thing. It wasn’t exact, he’d missed a few dents and scratches but it was pretty close. He had nothing to compare the kangaroo he’d drawn next to it to since he’d only ever seen them in picture books before. It was cute though, that’s all that mattered and it wore Sniper’s hat, making it even cuter.

“What you got there mate?”

Scout looked up to see that Sniper was now standing in the doorway of his van. He still wore his pajamas and looked half asleep despite the fact that noon was no more than an hour away. But considering the fact that it was the weekend and they had off, he was up a bit earlier than usual. He was one of those crazy people who stayed up stupidly late at night and thus slept until halfway through the day.

“Nothing,” Scout said, folding up the paper and putting it back in his pocket. He didn’t like showing his team mates his drawings of them or their stuff because it felt weird to do most of the time. “Want to go for a run with me?”

“Ugh, no, I just woke up.” Sniper grimaced as if he couldn’t think of a worse thing to do in the ‘morning’.

“Suit yourself then mate,” Scout said with a chuckle, imitating Sniper’s accent. It was a poor imitation, though Sniper didn’t react to it this time. He was probably used to it by now, meaning Scout would have to find another way to bother him. “See you around.” He gave Sniper a wave before jogging off.

---

Scout frowned at the drawing on the paper. It was good but… it wasn’t quite right. Drawing a person in detail was always hard but it this like his sixth attempt in the last two weeks, it should be a bit better, right?

He flipped back to the first attempt, if anything it was better. It was a casual drawing of Sniper leaning back against his campervan, the look on his face similar to the one the real him wore when he was amused by a funny tale Scout had told him. But again, it didn’t really capture Sniper’s essence the way Scout wanted. … He’d have to use Sniper as model, that would help, there was nothing else to do.

Of course, he couldn’t outright ask Sniper to do that for that, that would be weird. So, he’d sketch him without Sniper knowing, which was also weird and maybe a bit creepy but wouldn’t require any awkward conversation unless he caught Scout doing it. He wouldn’t though because Scout knew the perfect time and place to do it; the shooting range.

On days they didn’t have combat, Sniper always spent a few hours at the shooting range, making sure his aim remained as close to perfect as was humanly possible. Scout often joined him there, especially lately, either to practice with him or just to chat – he also had always admired just how good Sniper was with his gun, it was fun to watch him practice with it. So him showing up and hanging around wouldn’t be viewed as suspicious… hopefully anyway.

And good news, tomorrow was a weekend, they had off. Meaning Scout could get his drawing done tomorrow and then he’d hopefully have his need for a as close to perfect as he could get drawing of Sniper fulfilled. Then maybe he could stop thinking about Sniper so much.

Why did he even need to do this? Or want to? … Nope, he was not going to ask those questions, asking questions led to answers and sometimes answers weren’t good things. He was just going to do whatever the fuck he felt like and right now that was drawing the perfect picture of Sniper. Or uh… tomorrow, he’d do that tomorrow, for now he was going to go out for a run and meet up with Sniper later for dinner and then hang out and play cards or something with him.

-

“Hey Snipes, how’s it going?” Scout said as he strolled into the shooting range. He carried his sketchbook casually at his side. He didn’t take it out of his room often and it was far too thick to easily conceal so he didn’t bother trying. All he could do was pretend it was no big deal and hope no one else gave it any special attention.

Sniper grunted in response, too focused on aiming down his sights to answer properly, before firing. That was fine though, his extreme focus was what Scout was counting on.

“Cool,” Scout said once the report of his gun had faded – they both wore ear protection. “I’m just going hang out and chill for a bit if that’s okay.”

“Hmm, ‘kay,” Sniper replied, already scooping in for his next shot.

Scout jumped up on a nearby crate, hanging his feet off the edge and facing Sniper. He opened his sketchbook to a clean page – it was near the back, he’d have to get a fresh book soon – and started drawing.

Sniper was a good model, so still and focused. Scout just had to be careful when he looked up at him to make it seem like nothing more than a causal glance.

“What are you drawing?” Sniper asked after a while, still speaking in that way he did when he was preoccupied with something else but still cared about the conversation.

“Just some stuff,” Scout said causally. He’d expected that question eventually so he was prepared for it.

“What sort of stuff?” Now that question Scout wasn’t prepared for. He was even less prepared for when Sniper lowered his gun to look at him, genuinely interested and curious.

“Um… uh…” Scout stammered, his face growing warm. “Your gun.” He had to cover up why he was embarrassed and why he was drawing here and not in his room like he normally did. And it was technically true, he’d just started sketching out the beginning shape of it. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“Nah, it’s cool but uh… why?”

Scout would like to know the answer to the question too. “It looks cool and it’s something to do. So hurry up and go back to holding it straight so I can finish.”

Sniper shrugged and returned to his target practice. Good, that meant Scout could go back to drawing. Hopefully he wouldn’t ask to see the drawing when Scout was done with it.

It took more than an hour for Scout to finish his drawing. He was finally pleased with it too. He would’ve been more pleased with it if he’d been able to draw Sniper while he was at ease but he’d take what he could get.

Satisfied for the first time in what felt like a long time, he looked back up to admire the real thing again. Sniper was handsome and an all-around great guy. That’s why Scout wanted to draw him, he just liked Sniper a lot, nothing wrong with that. Except he liked Sniper a lot, a lot, like…

Holding back a groan, Scout almost literally face palmed. No way was he falling for Sniper like that, nuh-uh, no way, no how, it wasn’t happening. Except it already had, he’d somehow fallen head over heels in love with Sniper without even realizing it. Could anyone blame him though? Sniper was super cool, hot, and smart… and he was way out of Scout’s league. Just like every other person Scout had fallen for. If he had to fall for someone why couldn’t he fall for someone as dumb as he himself was so he wouldn’t have to go through this nonsense?

“Ah shit,” he said under his breath, rubbing a hand over his face.

“Something wrong?” Sniper asked, lowering his rifle to turn his head towards Scout.

“Nope.” Scout flipped his sketchbook closed and stood up. “I just remembered something I got to do.” He quickly left before Sniper could ask what it was.

He went straight to his room and tossed his sketchbook on his desk. He’d used too much force; it slid off, landing on the floor. Whatever he’d pick up later, his floor was already a mess anyway so who cared? He threw himself on the bed and pressed his face into his pillow to muffle a scream of frustration.

He was not going to play this game again. Sniper like everyone else he’d ever been interested in wasn’t into him the same way. There was no way he could be, he was smart while Scout dumb as a sack of bricks. He couldn’t even read properly for fuck’s sake, if Sniper knew that he probably wouldn’t even want be friends anymore.

Scout was sick and tired of letting himself get his hopes up and dancing around his feelings before finally building up enough courage to ask for a date only to be rejected and have his heart broken. He was not going to let it happen again. He’d get over these stupid feelings like he always did even if it meant he had to stop hanging out with Sniper.

Previous / Next

[davidcampiti]

A LIFE WITHOUT STAN LEE? -- Part One

This is the first month of my life without Stan Lee alive in it.

I think it’s appropriate to post this essay today, on Stan Lee’s birthday, the first one without him actually here to celebrate it. I couldn’t bring myself to write about Stan the day he died, just shy of 96 years old, and the week and month that followed were no better. Today I can put down some thoughts.

I am a child of Stan Lee. His work with Jack Kirby and John Romita appeared in the first comic book I remember reading – the Marvel-produced America’s Best TV Comics, a 25-cent comicbook that promoted the ABC Saturday morning cartoons.   It's one of the first powerful memories of childhood that have stayed with me for all this time.

Across my formative years, Stan Lee's words encouraged me to learn, to read more of everything -- not just comics. I spent much of my early years in the library and ordering Scholastic books every month through school. I read everything -- fiction, biographies, histories, science books.

Yet I grew up loving the comics that blazed brightly with his public persona and, while my parents toiled at just earning a living and staying alive, I learned much from "The Man." Stan taught me a lot about being a decent human being. It wasn't all, "With great power there must also come...great responsibility," though that was there, as well.

In recent years we corresponded a bit about the morals and messages of his words in his scripts, his Stan's Soapbox, and his many lectures and interviews. I told him we should assemble a book, Everything I Know, I learned From Stan Lee.

He wrote back -- "The paperback you suggested, 'Everything I Know I Learned from Stan Lee,' sounds like it could be funny. Especially if it consists of only one page with only one thing learned -- how to spell 'Excelsior!' Keep the faith, David. You're one of the good guys! Excelsior! Stan"

We discussed it a bit more but, soon after, Stan's eyesight worsened and he stopped answering his own mail; whoever took over had no idea what we'd been talking about. I let the idea drop.

Back when I was 12, I decided my career goal was to work with Stan Lee. Eventually, I achieved that goal but not by submitting stories in my teens and 20s but much later in my life, as an agent and book author. By the time I was 14, he'd gone from editor-in-chief to Publisher -- which meant he'd need more writers, right?

The first time I met Stan Lee and got to take a photo with him, I looked up at him and said, “Smile, and look as much like my Uncle as you can.” He laughed and gave my artist friend Scott Rockwell and me a good half-hour of his time, looking at art and answering questions. That was in 1978 – fully 40 years ago – and I remember it all as if it were yesterday. Stan was a memorable guy who could make you feel like the most important person in the room. I only wish I still had that photo; maybe Scott has it buried somewhere.

Four years later, I sold my first professional comics scripts to Pacific Comics and two years after that was writing a Superman assignment for DC with Kevin Juaire. Instead of ending up at Marvel as I’d hoped – which would’ve required moving to New York and being involved in daily office politics – I became a comics packager, then a publisher, then an agent. That’s how Stan knew me professionally, as a writer and an artist’s agent.

In early 1989, at a Capital City Distribution trade show, my Innovation Publishing was set up promoting the books we would be releasing into comics shops in a few weeks.  Stan was walking by, and I suggested to my assistant Paul Curtis that we should invite Stan to dinner.  He ran over, asked, and Stan said yes!  He not only brought along Carol Kalish and regaled us with two hours of stories about life at Marvel, Stan insisted that Marvel pay for the meal!  Nobody thought to bring a camera, but the memories stayed with us.  As I recall, Steve Sullivan, Paul Curtis and his girlfriend Amy, and I were the happy Innovation team at that dinner.  Kevin VanHook came on the trip but was elsewhere at that time.  He made up for it later at a party by chatting on a couch with Stan and later dancing with Carol.

In the '90s, Stan and I would chat at every opportunity at conventions.

When Marvel released a limited edition hardcover reprint of his 1947 book Secrets of the Comics, I decided to give in to my fannish impulses and use its endpapers as my autograph book.

Stan, of course, was the first to sign it in 1996, and a batch of Silver Age stalwarts followed.

By then we made it a point to get photos together every year across two decades. It was a clear timeline of the both of us getting older.

As the internet blossomed, I helped Stan a little when he first joined AOL. He asked me how AOL Instant Messenger worked, how to turn it on when he wanted to communicate and off when he didn’t want to be bombarded with Messages, and so on. Another time, an article he wanted to read was behind a login/password, and he asked me help get him through that. It tickled me to help Stan “The Man” with such basic web-things.

From the mid-'90s through the early 2000s, Stan would call the Glass House offices about once a month to ask for my perspective on what was going on in the comics biz, since we dealt not only with all the Marvel editors but everyone else as well. Real conversations, not the "'Nuff said, Pilgrim!" stuff. He'd graciously take an extra few minutes to chat with my assistant Graeme, who loved talking to his childhood icon.

Around 1997, Marvel's savvy publisher asked Glass House to create two dozen project proposals for a line of second-tier titles that my company would package. We ended up over-achieving and submitted 28 of them -- one of them for the first-tier Fantastic Four that I understood we had little chance of getting, but I had to try. The art was Joe Bennett's doing a Kirbyesque style.

Stan was kind enough to read over my FF proposal/outline and fine-tune my dialogue for the pages, before I submitted.

Likely worried about how an outside packager controlling so many titles would affect his own position, the editor-in-chief buried all 28 projects until, two years later, he assigned an editor to reject every proposal outright; that editor told me my FF dialogue didn't capture the essence of the characters -- not realizing the words were Stan's.

(Sidebar:  It was so ridiculous, that editor even rejected a proposal that another Marvel editor already saw, bought, and published!)

When Meryl and I got married in 2001, Stan sent us a gift -- a lemon cake and a note saying he wished he could've made it to the wedding. We still have the note; we ate the cake.

In 2006, Stan's POW! Entertainment launched Who Wants to be a Super-Hero? on The Sci-Fi Channel, and my Glass House Graphics contributed all the cover artwork for both seasons of the TV show. We even drew the comicbooks that starred both winners -- Matthew Atherton and Jarrett Crippen, both of whom became our friends.

When my friend, then-GHG artist Will Conrad, worked with him on the Dark Horse Feedback comic book, Stan took the time personally to choose Will out of our roster of artists, and to phone him in Brazil for a long talk before sending him the plot. (And yes, it was a full page-by-page plot.) They spoke several times during Will's month working on the book, each time helpful and upbeat.

The second book, with The Defuser, was more problematic. The network and producers weren't honoring their commitments to the winner, so I reached out to Stan who said, "I don't see any compelling reason to bother doing it, since we weren't renewed for a third season." I replied, "Because you said you would? Because you have the power to do it, and with great power there must also come great responsibility?" He made it happen, and Glass House Graphics's Kajo Baldissimo did the art.

We also drew the box art and insert comic books for multiple DVD animation projects that POW! released, with art by GHG's fabulous Fabio Laguna.

Stan always made time to meet privately with my artists, and my family, for which I was always grateful.

Of course when Comics Buyer’s Guide published a big feature issue for Stan’s 75th Birthday, I contributed an essay and hired the great Marie Severin to do a caricature cover for it and sent Stan a giant print of the art.

Around the time of Stan's 90th birthday celebration, I had Tina Francisco create a new birthday cover for Comics Buyer's Guide, and I penned a long article about him, too.

Of course, we sent to Stan a poster of the color art, and he sent back this card -- as always, written in his own handwriting.

TO BE CONTINUED -- IN PART TWO!

[awashsquid]

From one artist to another

I can’t take credit for this idea--it was inspired by a post that @presidentnerd made a while ago about Michiru bonding with Chibi-Usa over their shared artistry.  About 1900 words.  Like it?  Reblog, shoot me a comment, or check out my ko-fi!

Michiru padded over the plush area rug in the living room to sit in her favorite chair, a hot cup of tea delicately balanced in one hand, the novel she was currently perusing tucked underneath her arm.  The tea cup clinked gently against the marble coaster on the end table as she set it down, watching the steam curl upwards gently and dissipate into the air.  She turned to retrieve a blanket out of the chest, the encroaching winter chilling the air, when she spotted an item that did not belong in the carefully cultivated decor of the space.  

On the corner of the glass coffee table was a sketchpad--one of the cheaper ones, she noted habitually--that was well-worn, the corners of the pages rolling upwards, a stain marking one spot towards the center.  Michiru crossed and picked up the foreign book, noting the melange of worn stickers decorating its cover, before flipping through its pages.  

The first page declared in fanciful lettering: “CHIBI-USA’S DRAWINGS.”  That would explain its presence, then, she mused, fingers leafing through the thick pages with deft precision cultivated from years of skimming through her own similar tomes.  Professor Tomoe had not yet been declared mentally fit to raise Hotaru, not since the “tragic explosion” that had overtaken the Mugen School a few years back.  He was a loving and doting father, but his frequent memory lapses meant that he had been confined to a group living facility since that time.

He had been surprised, but not ungrateful, when Michiru, Haruka, and Setsuna had offered to take Hotaru during his rehabilitation, Michiru offering up expertly forged paperwork declaring them to be cousins of Hotaru’s mother (easy enough to obtain for someone with her wealth and connections).  The young girl had aged rapidly from baby to toddler to teenager, but her growth seemed to have stalled and returned to a normal pace somewhere around the age of sixteen.  Chibi-Usa had been delighted by this rekindled opportunity to spend time with her best friend and had become a frequent visitor in their flat, the two teens typically shut up in Hotaru’s room, the door open just a crack at Haruka’s protective insistence.

The drawings weren’t half-bad, Michiru recognized with some measure of surprise as she flipped through them.  Many towards the beginning of the pages were of Pegasus in various landscapes, then one with the horse looking into a mirror where a young boy was looking back, fingertips touching the glass barrier lightly.  There was a degree of awkwardness to the proportions, but the expression on his face was captivatingly rendered, sadness and resignation evident on his carefully penciled visage.  Michiru sat on the couch absently and continued to look through the book at pages depicting what she assumed to be Crystal Tokyo, a few rough sketches of Diana, an unflattering caricature of Usagi shoving rice cakes into her mouth, and various other subject matters before landing on the final drawing.  

It was Hotaru, looking at the viewer with a knowing smile not dissimilar to the Mona Lisa’s, her eyes kind and wise even as there appeared to be a distance between her and the audience.  The proportions were a little imperfect, the shading rough and the lighting inconsistent, but Chibi-Usa had managed to capture the essence of Hotaru’s character in the sketchy lines of the face, and the eyes of the drawing were captivating, showing a true promise of talent.

Michiru shut the sketchpad gently and placed it back onto the coffee table, then rose and went upstairs to dress, tea forgotten and growing cold in its cup where she had left it.  She had some calls to make.

--

“Hello?”  Usagi answered the door, a confused smile appearing on her face.  “Michiru!  What’s up?  Um, I mean, how can I help you?  Do you need something?”  She danced a little on the balls of her feet, clearly nervous even after years of knowing the older woman.  Michiru pushed away the thought that Usagi would naturally assume she wanted something from her rather than just stopping by for a visit and instead smiled back placidly.

“Hello, Usagi.  I was wondering if Chibi-Usa was home.  Might I come in?”  Usagi nodded and stepped out of the way, shutting the door as Michiru delicately slipped out of her shoes.

“Lemme just go grab her!  Um, you can sit down, or whatever; be right back!”  With that, Usagi bounded out of the room and up the stairs.  Michiru could hear a muffled shout of “CHIBI-USA!  MICHIRU’S HERE FOR YOU!” followed by the reply, similarly bellowed.  She felt a small smile turn up the corners of her mouth.  Perhaps it was that Chibi-Usa was a princess allowed to be a child where Michiru had been a child expected to act like a princess, but something about the freedom with which the two were able to interact in such an immature but open manner warmed her in a way she couldn’t quite parse out.

Michiru sat down primly on the couch for a moment, absently smoothing her skirt as she glanced around the room at all of the various knick-knacks and photos on display.  After a minute or so, she heard the thumping of little feet running down the stairs.  Chibi-Usa skidded into the room, nearly toppling over, and took a moment to catch her breath before standing straight.  “Michiru!  Usagi said you wanted to see me?”  Her eyes flickered over the table between them and she frowned, turning to scream up the stairs.  “USAGI!  You didn’t even offer her something to drink!”

Michiru chuckled, her hand rising to delicately cover her mouth.  “I’m not planning to linger for very long, Chibi-Usa, but thank you for your hospitality.”  Chibi-Usa’s cheeks flushed pink and she nodded.  “I believe that you left this at our house yesterday, and I thought you may be missing it.”  She pulled the sketchpad from her purse, offering it out towards the girl.

Chibi-Usa’s eyes lit up and she took it quickly, holding the book close to her chest as she twisted back and forth in an embrace with it.  “I was looking for this all morning!  Thank you so much!”  She smiled widely during her response, prompting Michiru to smile back without even recognizing that she was doing so.

“I’m glad I was able to reunite you.  I understand the anxiety of being separated from your works.”

The young girl’s happy expression fell slightly, and her bottom lip disappeared into her mouth as she bit it, her movement stilling and an expression of anxiety working its way across her features.  “Did- did you look at it?”

Michiru winced internally, knowing that she was going to have to admit to the inquisitiveness that had caused her to violate Chibi-Usa’s privacy.  “I did,” she affirmed, and Chibi-Usa’s expression turned more nervous.  “Initially, just to determine who it belonged to, but I confess that my curiosity can best me at times, and I admit to looking through it.  I am sorry if I invaded your privacy.”

Chibi-Usa blushed, face turning pink to match her hair.  “It- it’s not private or anything, it’s just sketches though, it’s not my best stuff or anything--” she stammered out anxiously, rocking back and forth slightly as all children do when embarrassed.

Michiru raised her eyebrows.  “You mean to say that you have more works?  What medium do you prefer?”  She received no reply, so she decided to rephrase the question slightly.  “Do you like watercolors, oil paints, pastels, sculpture…?” she trailed off, waiting for a response.

“We did all of those at school, um, but I wasn’t too good at sculpture,” she responded, face wincing as she recalled all of the assistance she had needed to complete her Holy Grail.  “I like painting, mostly.  Watercolors are nice because I like how light they are.  It makes it look all dreamy,” she described, her eyes flicking off as though envisioning herself painting.

“Between the two of us, Chibi-Usa, I’m not talented at sculpting myself,” Michiru confided in a conspiratorial tone, and the girl seemed to relax at the idea that even an artist like Michiru wasn’t perfect at everything.

“Really?” she asked.

“Really,” Michiru affirmed.  “Sculpture was the course I performed most poorly in during my schooling.  I found it too abstract, too much to visualize at once, perhaps.”  She cleared her throat.  “I digress.  I am sorry for looking through your works.  I know how personal they can be.”  She thought of her own sketchbooks, full of drawings of her visions, of Haruka, of things that she wouldn’t necessarily want to be shared to the world.  “I assure you I won’t tell anyone about the contents of your sketches.

“I do want to tell you, though, that the reason I even perused so was because I think that you have genuine talent, Chibi-Usa.”

“Wait, seriously?  You’re not just being nice, are you?”  The skepticism was heavy in her tone, her small face crinkling in suspicion.

Michiru smiled.  “Have you ever known me to give a compliment insincerely, just to make the recipient feel better?”  There was a pause where Chibi-Usa’s light eyebrows furrowed together as she though hard before deciding on an answer and shaking her head ‘no.’  “Precisely.  You have a real gift for capturing the emotion of your subjects, and I think with some refining that you could be a truly great artist.  How would you like to be enrolled in some studio classes?  Evenings and weekends, of course, so that they wouldn’t interfere with your traditional schooling.”

Chibi-Usa’s eyes lit up.  “Really?  But wait, I have to ask about--”

Michiru held up a smooth palm.  “Everything will be paid for in full; I insist.  My only stipulation is that I be invited to your first gallery showing one day.”  Chibi-Usa rushed forward and wrapped her in a tight hug, shocking the air out of her as the small arms squeezed around her torso.  She smiled and patted the girl’s back before Chibi-Usa withdrew, flushing once more with a mixture of embarrassment and happiness.

She graciously accepted the multitude of proffered thanks before exiting, assuring Chibi-Usa that she would be receiving information via the mail in a few days regarding her upcoming coursework.  The next morning, a package arrived on the Tsukinos’ steps addressed to Chibi-Usa, a card attached.  The careful calligraphy on the inside read: To get you started, from one artist to another. -M. Kaioh.  

Inside the large box were thick, expensive sketchpads and painting pads, fine watercolors and brushes, shading pencils, several canvases, and other assorted supplies, each one of the highest quality, purchased from an expensive art-specialty boutique, not just the local craft store where her previous supplies had come from.  Usagi’s mouth had fallen open when she saw the contents of the box, and Chibi-Usa promptly ran up to her room with the contents, eager to try out some of the new supplies that she had been given.

She unwrapped a watercolor set carefully and selected a piece of thick paper to begin her first work, smiling as the brush glided across what would become a carefully-detailed thank-you card to Michiru, one that she would secretly keep on display in her studio for years to come.

[lonelybreakfasts]

hi this is an untitled fanfic

I’ve never written fanfiction before but I felt ~inspired~ and wanted to try. The boys don’t come in until the end just bc I feel like every fanfic rushed into introducing them, I just wanted to set up my characters on their own too :) It’s also on wattpad (do people still use that site?) if you want to give it some love on there. any updates will also be on there sooo x

A small smile spreads across my face as the lens meets my eye. This is when I feel the most myself; behind the camera. The ability to capture the complete essence of a person in a single shot has always been something I pride myself on.

I guess that’s why I was so eager to join yearbook this year. After seeing my photography social media accounts, Mr. Meers, my former English teacher, approached me about it. At first I was hesitant, not wanting my passion to become homework, but I decided to join anyways. If I can get an A doing something I already do, why not?

Pulling the camera away from my face, I continue down the hall. Being the first day of school, the halls are bustling with students. Some looking excited for this new year, others looking like they would rather be anywhere else.

“Audrey!” At the sound of my name, I turn around to be met with familiar green eyes and short dark hair; my best friend.

“Hey, Cara,” I reply, a smile on my face and she pulls me into a hug. We just saw each other a few days ago, gushing about what this year would bring for us, but it’s still good to see her. We continue down the hall after quickly realizing we had become a bit of a road block.

“I can’t believe it’s junior year,” she sighs to me, linking our arms together.

“I know, I can’t decide if I’m excited for what’s to come or dreading it,” I laugh. Although this school has been our “home” for the past two years, it’s hard to be excited for another year of hard work, plus the added stress of knowing this is the year to impress colleges.

“Yeah, today is like the beginning of the end. Junior year is supposed to be hell, I’m not sure I can do it...” she trails off, seeming as if her thoughts had taken over.

“Com’mon, don’t get all sentimental on me now.”

“I know, I know, it’s just… weird, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, I guess it is.”

We reach our lockers, grab our things for the first half of the day, and then continue towards homeroom. Sadly, we only have two classes together this year, homeroom and calculus. How I’m going to survive this first semester barely seeing my best friend, I’m not sure. We continue to the room and find two seats next to each other. We quietly talk more about the upcoming year until we’re interrupted by Ms. Striklan.

“Alright, alright, settle down. Now, I know you must all be anxious to start your junior year, congratulations for making it this far by the way, but we have to get through the technicalities first.” After her little intro, I tune out. First day of homeroom is the same every year: don’t do this, don’t do that, get involved, stay out of trouble, blah blah blah. After a few years, you think they would trust us to know this stuff.

I glance out the window at the courtyard I now know well, the trees slowly shifting in the wind. My eyes are then caught by a figure running from the parking lot, their long legs quickly carrying them closer to the door. Finding the scenario humorous, I attempt to quietly sneak my camera out of my bag and take a picture. After an obnoxiously loud click of the lens, I realize eyes are on me. Luckily, though, those eyes do not include Ms. Striklan’s.

After about another minute of zoning out, I hear quick footsteps running down the hall. I glance at the door and see a figure flash by, the same one I saw outside. It’s the first day, it’s not that hard to be on time. Makes me wonder what happened, did they wake up late? Lose track of time?

“Audrey!” Cara harshly says to me.

“What?” I reply, confused by her tone.

“Geez, I’ve said your name like five times! Are you coming?” I look around and soon realize nearly everyone else is gone. I guess my thoughts consumed me a little bit too much.

“Sorry,” I say, quickly gathering my things and following her towards the door.

“Nice to have you back, Ms. Taylor,” Ms. Striklan smiles without looking up from the papers on her desk. She glances up, her position unchanged but her eyes now visible from behind the glasses on her nose. I give her a small smile and make my way out of the room, thoroughly embarrassed that she noticed I wasn’t paying attention all class.

The day continues on, syllabus after syllabus, plus a handful of ‘get to know you’ games that everyone dreads. Finally lunch rolls around, also known as the best part of any day. I meet Cara at my locker and we head into the cafeteria.

“So… where should we sit?” Cara asks as she looks around the room, watching teens hustle to buy their lunch and find a table with their friends. It seems as though every table is full until I hear someone call over Cara. We turn towards the sound and see someone I barely recognize. I think he was in my American history class last year, maybe? Cara smiles back at him and makes her way towards the table, ushering me along with her.

The table has two people at it. The one I recognize, Caleb maybe? He has dark hair and tan skin and his smile seems to get bigger the closer Cara and I get. I don’t really remember a lot about him, I think he kinda goofed off a lot but he seemed nice enough.

The other seems to not even notice us, his eyes focused on whatever mush they served for lunch today as he pushes it around his plate. His dark blond fringe covers the side of his face that I would be able to see, so the only defining characteristic I notice is his broad shoulders clad in black and white stripes.

“Calum, hey!” Cara exclaims, taking a seat across from the boys. Calum, I mentally smack my forehead. I guess Caleb was pretty close? “We sit next to each other in my English class,” Cara mentions to me, explaining how they know each other.

“Hey, you were in my US history class, right?” he says, looking at me.

“Uh, yeah. Audrey,” I reintroduce myself, subconsciously giving an awkward wave that I immediately regret. The blond glances up at me and snickers at my movements, quickly looking back down as his eyes meet mine.

“This is my friend, Luke,” Calum introduces, obviously noticing that the boy wouldn’t do it himself. And, once again, he seems to ignore us. Calum, annoyed by his behaviour, smacks his arm. Luke looks up and gives us the fakest smile I’ve ever seen and goes back to pushing his food around. I guess he isn’t really interested in meeting new people.

“Anyways…” Calum continues, “Cara and I had to do one of those ‘get to know you’ games and it turns out she’s not the actual worst,” he jokes, receiving an eye roll from my best friend.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” she shrugs, pretending to be annoyed but the smile on her face contradicts her tone.

“Cal, how’d you get girls to sit at your table,” a new voice teases as he takes a seat next to me. “Ashton, Ashton Irwin.” He holds out his hand for me to shake, a strangely formal form of introduction considering the setting. He smirks at me as I take his hand, his eyes lighting up.

“Shut up, Ash,” Calum scoffs, a slight blush appearing on his cheeks as he looks down into his sandwich.

“Well are you going to introduce these beautiful girls to me or are you going to make them do it themselves?” Ashton flashes a smile at us and I can’t help but wonder how someone can have so much confidence.

“I’m Cara, that’s Audrey,” Cara replies, her cheeks heating up at the flirty compliment. Luke scoffs at the exchange. I look at him, puzzled. What is up with him? He stands up with his tray and exits the cafeteria, throwing away his barely eaten lunch.

“What was that about?” Cara asks, vocalizing my own internal thoughts.

“He’s not the best around people, but don’t worry. He’ll warm up if he has to,” Calum shrugs. I guess this situation is relatively normal for him.

“Yeah it took him three weeks to get used to me, but he still seems to hate me,” Ashton jokes, dimples appearing on the sides of his smile.

“Huh,” is all I could manage to reply as I watch the tall, uh, really tall, blond walk outside and slump against the brick. He pulls out a small cardboard box and grabs a cigarette from it, putting it to his lips and lighting it.

“I didn’t know anyone still smoked,” Cara mentions, following my gaze.

“We’ve tried to make him quit but all of the threats of lung cancer seem to mean nothing to him,” Calum replies, not even looking up from his sandwich that is now 80% gone.

My gaze falls back to Luke through the window. Something about this moment, a full cafeteria, filled with loud, rowdy teens framing a boy clad in black in white, excluded from the festivities of the first day of school, smoking. Without looking away, I take my camera out of my bag and snap a few shots before the moment is gone. I look down at the few pictures I captured before looking back up to him. His eyes meet mine and he quickly looks away, throwing his cigarette on the ground, stomping on it. The short interaction pulls me back into reality, tuning back into the conversation at the table.

“...and then he runs into the class, out of breath, and sits down like none of it ever happened. Mr. Walt just stopped. Like, mid sentence, eyes wide, confused at the sudden interruption that was gone as soon as it came,” Ashton laughs. “Not quite like Luke to make such an entrance.” The rest of the table cracks up, and I chuckle to hide that I hadn’t been listening. I look back at the window and notice Luke isn’t there. I can’t help but wonder where he went.

“Hello? Anyone in there?” Cara asks, poking my arm to get my attention.

“Uh, yeah, I’m here,” I smile back at her, but my thoughts are still on the tall blond that seems to have disappeared.

[peacefulwriter88]

Ripples - Part 1

Synoposis: What happens when you wake up married to Steve Rogers in a Las Vegas hotel suite? Especially when you have feelings for his best friend and his best friend has feelings for you? Only time can tell.

Reader X Steve Rogers X Bucky Barnes

Warnings: Language for now. SMUT down the road, but not the first chapter :) 

A/N: I was watching The Hangover and read a great story by @imhereforbvcky and was inspired. Going to make this a series because choosing between Bucky and Steve is literally one of my internal conflicts.

This first Part will capture everyone’s perspective and afterwards each part will be in a particular character’s voices.

Tag List: @sidneycrosbysdick, @denialanderror @sexylibrarian1

Tags are open for the moment!

The harsh, bright rays of the Nevada desert shone into the small hotel room, slowly making its way over two distinct bodies. One of them was solid and strong, the defined muscles relaxed as an arm draped across the second body, smaller and softer. The first groaned, shifting in its stiff movements  before waking up,  allowing the remnants of the Asgardian ale to take one final course through his body. How much he had drank the night before to allow the effects of the ale to linger in his system was unknown to him as he shifted, becoming very aware of the warm body next to him.

His eyes popped open as he took in the soft features of the woman beside him.

No.

Steve Rogers became very aware of the cool sheets draping over his naked body, the same sheets that were draped over your own.

No, no, no.

The words ring in his head as he sits up in bed, allowing his eyes a second to adjust before he realizes he’s not waking up to his room in the tower. Instead of the navy blue walls greeting him, he is awarded with cream walls wallpapered with gold swirl designs.  He scans the room - bottle of champagne, a tux lying idly on the floor, a wedding dress on top of that…..

He stops. A wedding dress?

He looks down at his left hand and sure enough a simple gold band dones his left ring finger, glistening under the soft light..

“NO!”

He articulates the words booming behind his drunken stupor, startling you awake and you moan, shifting your head so that the sunlight can’t ruin your sleep, the throbbing in your head unmoving.

“Steve, please don’t make me monitor your trainings this morning. I feel like I drank a gallon of really cheap tequila.”

You give a heavy sigh before your eyes pop open.

Steve?

You sit up quickly, instantly regretting the movement as Steve stares at you, his rich blue eyes flicking down at your chest before he quickly shifts and turns the other way, a blush adorning his chiseled cheeks.  You’re confused for only a second before you’re aware of the cold air hitting your chest and you look down to see the thin, cotton sheets slipping down your body, your nipples taunt from the movement.

Panic sets in and you lift the sheets higher, grabbing for the thick comforter laying at the bottom of the bed in embarrassment.

Why were you naked lying next to Steve. You look at him and notice he’s just as naked as you and you close your eyes, trying to remember the events from last night.  

“What…what happened?” you finally ask trying to calm your heartbeat, confused on how to digest what the clues were pointing at.

Steve sighs, his back toward you and you can’t help but admire the way his muscles contract with the breath. Then you shake your head of the thought, causing more pain in your head and you groan, bending down to rub your temples.

“….I…..I don’t know. I don’t remember.”

He looks over his shoulders at you, worry in his eyes.

“I don’t think we’re at the Tower though. Unless you choose this very posh decor for your room?”

His voice is hopeful and you will yourself to look up, trying to digest your surroundings. You look around the room, your trained eyes going through the same process Steve’s had and you feel the panic attack stampeding toward you like warriors going to battle. You knew where you were.

“….we’re in Vegas.”

He groans, placing his head in his hands.

“That explains a lot.”

“Does it?” you give a half mocked laugh, trying to find some humour - any humour in the situation. This couldn’t be happening to you. You were just a simple- highly trained assassin gone assistant to Tony Stark and The Avengers team. Not a young, reckless girl who went to Vegas to have random hook up sex.

Steve looks back at you, his perfectly chiseled jaw set as he mumbles,

“That’s not even the best part,” he lifts his left hand, revealing a gold band that glitters in the sunlight. “I think we might be married.”

That was all you needed. You think about all the things that make you happy. Ice cream. Laying on the beach on a hot summer day. Reading a good book during a rainstorm. It isn’t enough to contain your body from shaking as you lift your left hand, praying to god that he was wrong.  

The gold band compliments your delicate ring finger and glistens like Steve’s in the sunlight. Your breathing stops, the irregular huffs causing Steve to furrow his brow in concern and he turns into you now, no longer ashamed of your nakedness as he wraps his arms around you.  

Even in a crisis Steve could be relied on to support you.

“Steve…how…what..and…” you were going to throw up. You were going to throw up - that was it. Steve’s hold tightens around you and you feel the way his chest rises and falls against your own, trying to ignore the way his touch made you want to explore more of him. Though you weren’t going to say it, you both were thinking the same thing.

What the hell were you going to tell Bucky.

James ‘Bucky’ Barnes stood in the living room of the Avengers tower, a cup of coffee that had long gone cold in his hands as he watched the sun rise. He gave a deep sigh as he heard the faint sound of heels clicking toward him, stopping once they hit the living room.

He knew that the young blonde was waiting on him to say something - offer breakfast, get her number, anything - but he had wanted her gone the moment he realized the dumb mistake he had made. He only mumbled,

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. - can you escort our guest off of the property. Call a cab for her.”

The supercomputer responded yes and he knew the woman was angry, the quick sound of her heels carrying her to the elevator. He gave a sigh of relief, sipping the cold dark coffee as he tried to collect his thoughts.

He had to figure out how to admit to what had happened without ruining his relationship with Y/N. He hadn’t realized how much he had cared about you until he saw you last night, the sapphire body con dress drawing him into the essence that could only be described as you. The night had started well. You had walked to him directly, checking on his comfort. You might have, and he was only trying to be positive, even flirted with him.

But then, Steve had left in a tiff and you had offered to check on him, knowing that the breakup between Sharon and himself was still raw. Bucky hadn’t thought anything of it until he was still waiting for you 2 hours later.  He was aroused and needed some relief - relief he had hope to find with you - but instead drunk Bucky who had sipped way to much of the demi-god’s ale had found an easy target with the blonde. He didn’t even really care for blondes but…..he just didn’t want to be lonely. By the time he had realized what he had done, she had passed out beside him and he was up all night, debating whether you were left wondering why he had left you.

He had hoped to catch you this morning to apologize. Everyone knew that you came in early every morning, refusing to move into the complex tower but knowing that things needed to be accomplished. You always went for an early morning run, so early that the sun would barely break through before making coffee making coffee and preparing the reports of the day for Tony. First one to arrive and last one to leave.

But you hadn’t this morning.

He was worried and distracted, trying to debate whether to go to your apartment to check on you when he hears the elevator ding. Hopeful, he turns expecting to see you coming in, sweaty off your run.

Instead, he was rewarded with Tony who was fuming.

The tall man barrelled through the open space, his hands balled up in two angry fists as his eyes locked onto Barnes.

“Where is he Barnes?”

Bucky raises a curious brow and Stark rolls his eyes,

“Listen, I don’t need you and your Lost Boys bestie covering each other. Not today. This is a serious offense. Flying off with the quin jet to god knows where is not the best publicity we need right now. Lets just hope no one that’s pissed off at us followed him.”

The blank stare Bucky returns to Stark lingers before Bucky shakes his head, returning his eyes out of the patio window.

“Who the hell are you talking about Stark?” he mumbles and Tony takes in Bucky’s confused face.

“Wait - you don’t know that your 1945 girlfriend absconded with my quin jet in the middle of the night not to be heard of? Turned off all the tracking systems and F.R.I.D.A.Y. so I can’t find him and beat him for ruining my morning with Pepper?”

The incredulousness in Tony’s voice is evident and Bucky shrugs, giving him a side glance before shaking his head. Tony gives a loud sigh, banging his fist on the kitchen island.

“Fuck! Do you know if Y/N is here yet? We need to get an angle on this stat.”

Bucky hated when Tony referred to you as though you were another robot in his lab, even though he knew that Tony thought more of you. He loved you like a younger daughter even if he took you for granted.

“She hasn’t come in yet.”

“FUCK!” Tony yells, storming to a cupboard to grab a cup for coffee. He finds one and pours, shaking his head in fury.

“You throw one fucking benefit dinner to prove to the public that The Avengers have changed and Steve has to go off and ruin it. Why am I not surprised.”

Tony leans against the counter, crossing his arms before he takes a sip of coffee before spitting it out.

“Jesus why does this taste like black acid!? Who the hell made this coffee?”

He looks up at Bucky, who hadn’t moved from his spot in the living room and rolls his eyes.

“Of course you made it. Taste likes its been boiling in a hydra base for over 60 years.” he gives an annoyed sigh,  dumping the contents of the pot into the sink before starting to make a new brew and Bucky chuckles, walking into the kitchen and shaking his head.

“Sorry you’re not man enough to handle a dark brew.”

Tony snorts when something rings, causing Bucky to jump up in alarm, his eyes searching the facility as Tony rolls his eyes.

“It’s just my news alarm can opener. Calm down.”

Bucky frowns. If there was nothing more obnoxious than Tony Stark, then it was all the machines that ringed and dinged and shrilled randomly throughout the day. He still didn’t understand the world that literally held the news in the palm of his hands, glass and metal separating him from a world of knowledge.

Tony’s glasses frost over, a news report flashing in front of his eyes and he groans, asking F.R.I.D.A.Y to remove the report from his view and quickly pushing a button on his watch, hastily heading toward the balcony.

“So you got the report.”

Neither of them are surprised to see Natasha, already equipped in her Black Widow attire as she walks into the living room.

Bucky is the first to ask,

“What report? Is this about Steve?”

“Is this about Steve?” Tony mocks, his hands stopping on the patio door handle before looking at the large super soldier. Bucky’s eyes scrunch together in frustration as Tony continues,

“Listen, Tin box, hold down the fort while mommy and daddy reign in the kids. When Y/N gets here, tell her she’s going to have to help with covering this mess Captain has got us in.”

Bucky can’t help to narrow his eyes, his left arm flexing before Natasha places a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t let him get to you. Just let Y/N know it’s probably nothing. Better that few of us go and clean this up,” she turns to Tony,  “There’s a mini jet I can take. Sits one.”

“Already informed Roadie. He’ll meet us there as well.”

And then Tony’s stepping off the balcony, only to fly upwards seconds later in his Iron Man suit. Bucky had been so distracted by the action that he doesn’t catch Natasha’s absence until he hears Sam’s voice and he groans. This morning keeps getting better and better.

“Take it they’re going after Steve?”

“Why the hell does everyone know where Steve is!?”

Sam laughs, turning on the TV in the kitchen as he pours himself a fresh cup of coffee.

“We call this machine a television Bucky. It usually reports out current events and false drama to distract humans from their day to day lives.” His voices is laced with heavy sarcasm but Bucky is to distracted with the news feed to care.  A quinjet had been found in the Las Vegas airport and he chuckles, shaking his head. He didn’t take Steve as a mourn yourself in Vegas kind of guy but if it helped, it helped. It’s only seconds later that Sam is spitting out the coffee, cursing under his breath.

“Did you make this watery crap!?” he asks, taking the coffee pot and pouring it into the sink.

“Tony. He said my pot was too strong.” Bucky chuckles and Sam nods, before frowning and looking back at him.

“Where the hell is Y/N? She’s the one thats figured out the recipe for making good coffee that pleases all of us.”

Bucky shrugs.

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

You watched as Steve roamed the room in his boxers, looking for the small paper before you hear him exclaim,

“Aha!”

He bends over, his ass stretching underneath the sheer fabric and you look away, taking in the decor as he picks up the thin paper.

What the hell had gotten into you?

He walks back to the bed as you sit up, the large stiff cotton shirt he wore with his tux the night before falling loosely over your body. He tries to ignore the haphazard way you had buttoned it up, exposing enough of your cleavage to draw a response from him as you leaned over his broad shoulders. Or the way your hair smelled as it brushed against his exposed skin. The same thought echoed in his brain.

What the hell had gotten into him?

“What does it say?” you bite your lip reading the document before groaning.

“Shit!” he flinches hearing you curse and you mumble a quick apology before continuing, “This is official. We definitely got married last night. No random marriage hiccup here.”

You sigh as you lean over the nightstand, drinking the expensive coconut water you had found in the rooms fridge. It was a worthy ten dollars, soothing the small throbbing in your head. Steve had mentioned he had been drunk off of Asgardian ale and that you probably had a sip, causing the massive pain pounding throughout your body.

You could only agree.

Steve; however, was thriving, his drunken stupor burned out of him minutes after he woke up.

Stupid, super soldier serum.

“So…..what does that mean?” he asks uncertainly and you can’t help but give a small laugh, amused by the worry lines creasing his forehead. Not that they would stick.

Steve’s innocence was always something you found adorable.

“Means that I am officially Y/N Rogers. Congratulation - you have a wife!”

He can’t help but laugh, a genuine smile spreading across his face and for once this morning, a small light of happiness seeps through. You were worried about him. You knew how much Sharon meant to him. This wasn’t helping. Part of you was worried that the scowls that had cast itself across his features had to deal with the disappointment of being married to you.

Though that shouldn’t matter. You liked Bucky. Everyone knew that.

Except, of course, Bucky.

“Well, while this is one of the best honors I can add to my life experiences this isn’t right,” he turns to you, his calm blue eyes looking into your own.

“You deserve better than marrying some old guy in a sketchy Vegas chapel. At least you should be able to remember it.”

You nod your head, the smile still unable to leave your face.

“Well,” you crawl back to him, placing your chin on his shoulders, feeling his muscles tense underneath you. God this man was built.

“I’d rather have my random marriage experience with you than anyone else. Could you imagine if I accidentally married Thor. God of obliviousness. He’d be a string of questions from the moment we got up to find ourselves in this mess to the second I divorce his demi-god ass.”

“Language…” Steve says under his breath though he’s chuckling and then his eyes lock on yours again. There’s something different this time. Curiosity and something else. Something you can’t put your finger on.

You’re unaware that your faces were getting dangerously close to each other until you hear a loud bang at the door. It only takes Steve seconds  to respond, blocking your body from the intrusion, before the door bursts open in a small cloud of smoke. Natasha walks in, an amused smile on her face as she takes in Steve’s semi-naked state.

“Steve.” she calmly says, crossing her arms in amusement. You try to hide your body further behind his large frame before Tony is walking in, the mask of his suit lifting with Roadie not far behind him.

“Morning Captain. Don’t mean to burst in on you like this - I know that you probably wanted to check out the breakfast buffet downstairs -heard it crazy delicious,” he staring down Steve with angry eyes and you groan, Steve easily covering it up with a cough, “But I came to retrieve some property. You know, the quin jet you absconded with.”

Steve stands tall, giving a curt nod as Natasha takes in the room. The tux, the wedding dress, the empty champagne bottle, the second pair of legs hiding behind Steve’s.

“Steve….didn’t take you and Sharon for a random Vegas type.”  she says, cutting the silence.

This causes Tony to snap toward Natasha and then back to Steve. Steve’s jaws clenches and he gives a slow sigh before mumbling,

“…not with Sharon.”

“Really?” Both Natasha, Roadie and Tony ask simultaneously and you know you’re busted. You give one last sigh before stepping from behind him, lifting your arms up in surrounding and giving an uncertain smile

“Surprise?” you say weakly.