#i should allow myself to get off easy and just draw some talking heads i s2g

[ask-toukendanshi]

hi souza it's also souza. No, i'm kidding.

Does he have all his siblings with him, though? Or have some not been summoned yet?

"Ah... only us three so far, unfortunately. Or maybe it is 'fortunately', since we are at least this many together? It could be just one of us present... that'd be a bit lonely. Taikou has yet to appear. But I'm sure our master has plans for him too." -Souza Samonji (this one)

[arokel]

To the Victor

Rating: G Pairing: Don/Bobby, Bobby/OMC Tags: Pre-relationship, pining, jealous don, awkward flirting Notes: inspired by @savvylittlecoxswain 's fantastic Poughkeepsie headcanon !

ao3

“Is your scowly friend back there a republican, by any chance?”

It takes Bobby a second to parse the words. He’s not used to the way Frank speaks - polished, refined, but underneath all that education and money there’s still a trace of the East Coast drawl that usually sets Bobby’s blood boiling to hear. But they aren’t out on the water, and Frank isn’t his opponent, and a few times now Bobby has gotten so lost in that cognitive dissonance and all the fascinating contradictions making up Frank’s voice that he’s completely missed the substance.

He cranes his neck to look behind him, mind catching on the most useful part of the sentence: scowly. And Roger is staring wide-eyed at a bust of Agrippa tucked into a bookshelf, which means…

“Who, Don? Don’t think so, but I doubt it’d matter anyway. New Deal’s done a lot for all of us boys.”

Frank’s grin, wide and toothy and as perfectly politic as the rest of him, warms with a sincere relief that seems to light Bobby up from the inside. This is the reason people win elections, he thinks. You just have to be handsome and charming enough and people turn to butter. Even Bobby, strong-willed as he is, feels a little weak in the knees.

“That’s wonderful news. I’m sure my father will be glad to hear it too,” Frank says, with a tone as casual as if he hasn’t just promised to personally relay Bobby’s gratitude to the President of the United States. “Must be another reason this Don fellow dislikes me, then, if it’s not politics.”

Bobby blinks, pulled back to reality by the mention of Don. “Oh - no, Don likes most people. He’s just a bit stone-faced. Killer smile when you can coax it out of him, though.”

It’s not a smile like Frank’s, broad and easy and inviting. It’s something much sweeter, something that brings an answering smile to Bobby’s lips just thinking about it - shy, private, and so brilliant it almost glows. Bobby would vote for Frank Roosevelt; he would go to the ends of the earth for Don Hume.

“Maybe he’s jealous,” Frank says.

“Of what?”

Frank’s grin turns sly, and only then does Bobby realize, with a cold thrill even in the face of that warm smile, that he’s been caught out. His only saving grace is that Frank seems pleased to know it.

“Could be plenty of things,” he says, drawing out the words with an obvious relish. “Putting myself in his shoes… he’s your stroke, right? So you come here, you meet some moneyed easterner, and you spend your night talking tactics with him - well, if I fancied myself the underdog I’d be glaring daggers at me too.”

“He’s not glaring daggers,” Bobby says, bristling. Don would be well within his rights to be pissed at Bobby over all that, if indeed he is pissed; Frank doesn’t need to make it sound petty.

Frank, with a politician’s ease, shrugs it off. “Maybe he thinks he’s a better rower. Maybe he thinks he’s more handsome.”

The second is accompanied by an exaggerated wink, and Bobby grudgingly allows himself to be charmed. Frank can’t help the arrogance, to a degree; that’s just what being raised an easterner with money gets you.

He laughs along. “For a politician’s son, you’re not very discreet.”

“You should have seen your face when you brought up his smile. Biggest cow-eyes I ever saw. Didn’t think there was much need for subtlety after that, though I don’t have high hopes of it getting me anywhere,” Frank says, shaking his head ruefully. “Go un-ruffle your stroke’s feathers. I’ll still be here if it turns out he really does just think he’s a better rower.”

Once again Bobby finds himself struggling to process the words, but this time it has nothing to do with Frank’s accent.

“Thanks,” he says vaguely, eyes already seeking out Don, who is much closer to ‘glaring daggers’ than Bobby took him to be after all. “He is a better rower, by the way.”

Frank ducks his head in a gracious admission of defeat. “I don’t doubt it.”

Don’s face does brighten at Bobby’s approach, though you’d have to know him fairly well to notice the shift. Bobby, who has spent a good number of months cataloging Don’s every expression and could probably call himself the foremost expert in reading Don Hume’s moods, sees it right away. He slides in along the ornately-patterned wall beside Don, kicking his feet out nonchalantly and knocking their elbows together, and watches another cloud dissipate.

Bobby shoots him an exaggerated frown. “Why the thunderclouds?”

“Just feel out of place, I guess,” Don says, with an unconvincing shrug. “All this wealth, when we’re putting paper in our shoes. And the president’s son welcoming us in and talking with us like we’re all the same.”

“Frank’s nice when you give him a chance.”

Although now, outside the radius of that smile, Bobby can admit that some of Frank’s charm is dependent on whether he’s actively turning it on you.

Don hums in clear skepticism. At a loss, Bobby tries for the most plausible of Frank’s harebrained, flirtatious theories. “Don’t worry, you’re a better rower than he is.”

“I know I am,” Don says, with a rare touch of arrogance. It looks good on him. Then he frowns again. “You know that just from talking strategy with him?”

So, it’s not that. Nor is it Frank’s initial conjecture - not that Bobby ever thought it was; Don is too steady for that kind of pettiness. And there’s no world in which it’s the final one.

“I’m a good cox,” Bobby says simply. “And you’re the best.”

Don snorts.

Bobby doubles down. “Scoff all you want, but two months from now you’ll have an Olympic medal and he won’t.”

“Then why is he smirking?”

Bobby knows the answer to that. What he doesn’t know is how Frank’s self-effacing grin, which reminds Bobby so strongly of a losing candidate on election night, could make Don think anything other than the truth: that when it comes to Bobby, Don has already won.

[akehoshimystar]

Chapter 3

Shinobu: One Oracle?

Kiho: It's a simple form of fortune-telling where you draw a card and decipher the answer.

Tarot and oracle are technically different things, but let's leave out that complicated stuff.

Shinobu: Wow, seems like it would be easy to join.…. Crap! I forgot I had to call Mika-nee about a customer.

I'm off for a bit, you two enjoy yourselves~

With that, Aizawa-kun left for the staff room, and the store fell silent for a moment. After a long, not short, but just the right amount of time, Kiho-san spoke again. As always, there's not a single moment of awkwardness or stagnation in the conversation he leads.

Kiho: It says in the document that we need to discuss how to incorporate flowers into this fortune-telling.

Ito: About that... I was thinking of making bookmarks with flowers with positive meanings to hand them out at the end of the fortune-telling.

I think I can ask Ichikawa-kun to do the illustrations and design, and I've already found a few candidates for the printing store.

Kiho: Ah, that might be good. If you prepare several types, I can convey the fortune-telling results in a more connecting way.

Would you mind if I choose the flowers for the motif myself?

Ito: Eh? Not that I mind, rather, I'd be very grateful... but I don't intend to make it that much of a hassle for you.

Kiho: Don't worry, it's not a hassle at all.

Due to my previous job, I am quite familiar with flower language.

Ito: (His previous job made him knowledgeable about flower language? .....A florist, perhaps?)

Kiho: If you don’t mind, allow me to take over the work related to the bookmarks, including cooperating with Ichikawa-kun. I'm sure there is a mountain of other things you have to do, Ito.

Ito: (...I feel a bit reluctant to increase the work of someone, especially Kiho-san, who is almost like my boss.)

(Flower language is an important part of this project. It's definitely better to have someone who knows one or two things about it take on this task than for me to look for it with my superficial knowledge.)

In that case, let me take you up on your offer. Thank you so much.

Kiho: That settles it. But why bookmarks?

Ito: I initially thought about postcards, but I also didn't think there was much use for them.

Of all the practical things, paper bookmarks were the cheapest to make.

Kiho: I see.

Ito, do you dislike things that are not practical?

Ito: Eh? I wouldn’t say that..... Let’s see.....

It's fine if I receive it myself, but when I think about giving it to someone else, I tend to remove it from the options.

Kiho: Why would that be?

Ito: ……Uhhh...

(Is he trying to read my mind right now?)

Kiho: Sorry, you don't need to think too hard about it. I was just wondering. So, is there any particular reason?

Ito: I can only think of obvious reasons like there being a certain number of people who would find it annoying to receive one...

Probably nothing in particular.

Kiho: Oh yeah?

Kiho-san gave a somewhat vague response before gently closing the conversation. But he still seemed to be asking, “Really?” with a smile. Maybe Kiho-san was wondering how I would answer that question. But in the end, he didn't check the answer.

The reserved seats for the event were all booked shortly after it was announced.

The day before the event, just when I thought preparations were going smoothly and I would be able to greet the day without any problems…

The “unexpected event” happened.

Ito: Good morning.....Ah.

(He’s on the phone.)

Yuzuru: ………Yeah, I can take your place for lunch today. I should be able to start without any problems, I will head there right away.

Then, I'll talk about the details later tonight.… No, not at all. I'm sorry, but I can’t say that I’m not grateful. Sorry for bothering you even on your day off.

Any time is fine, so please get some rest for now. Thank you for your cooperation.

Yuzuru: Phew... Good morning. Sorry for causing a ruckus early in the morning.

Ito: Is it an urgent job?

Yuzuru: The ST Dept. has suddenly been tasked with an agent job. I was discussing that matter just now.

This is an ongoing personal guarding job that strictly requires Yu’s presence, and is also an irregular request.

He wanted me to take his place until tomorrow night.

Ito: ….! Don’t tell me Nina-san can't attend tomorrow's event?

Yuzuru: As you may have guessed. 

That being the case, the only kitchen staff left will be Yashiro-san.

I'll have to think about it a bit.

Ito: ...I see what happened now.

Yuzuru: I wish I could have taken your place. But that is proving to be difficult.

Ito: That's true...

If Kise-san is going to take Nina-san’s place in the kitchen, someone else will need to take his place. At Aporia, which operates with a small but elite team, each person's role is already heavy.  Kise-san’s position and work, which covers the whole team, are rather special. Not something that can be easily replaced.

Ito: (But the kitchen shifts are always shared between Kise-san and Nina-san. Is there any other staff who can do the cooking...?)

Yuzuru: If I manage to adjust other matters, I think I can ask Ai-san to help out around the dining area.

And maybe I can secure some time to help out in the kitchen.

Either way, we'll need a full-time person. And that’s why I asked Tomose. 

Ito: Eh?

(.…..Did I mishear something? Just now, I think I just heard a name that didn't cross my mind even once.)

Yuzuru: As for the menu, I have some time tonight, so I think I can teach it to him.

Ito: …..Currently, Nina-san is responsible for most of the cooking work.

It may not be much, but I'd like to help out a little more.

If you don't mind, please let me join in too. As long as you don’t find me a bother. 

Yuzuru: No way! Not at all. That would be great. But it looks like we'll be meeting a little late today. 

We'll have to come early tomorrow, so please don't push yourself. 

Ito: You don’t have to worry about that. I'm actually grateful to be able to review what we sell.

By the way, excuse me for asking this. Just to confirm...

The one who is in charge of the kitchen...

Yuzuru: .....? You heard it. It’s Tomose.

Onda Tomose from ST. Dept.

Ito: …..! (So my ears weren’t playing a trick on me!)

Chapter 4>>

[vipernoir]

Hey I wrote a little fanfic about Adrien having a twin sister called Aurora, they pretty much have the same life, I just thought it would be nice for Adrien to have someone in his life he can talk too :)

I’m writing this pretty much just for myself as it’s been a long time since I wrote anything, and honestly since it’s just for my entertainment I don’t care all that much about spelling or punctuation errors but if that doesn’t bother you too much feel free to give it a read

It will be pretty much focusing on Aurora’s life, it will be Luka x Aurora at some point too. But yeah if it’s your sorts thing feel free to read :)!

Ya

Again…time to do it all again…

That’s what she thought as the sunlight bounced off the walls in her room, confirming the start of another day of repetitiveness. It wasn’t like her life was completely terrible, just controlled. From the moment she and her brother were born every aspect of their lives had been decided for them. The clothes they wore, the meals they ate, the activities they took part in. Things had been like this all of their lives, so she should be used to this, and it shouldn’t be such a sense of dread when she wakes, but yet every morning the feelings of being trapped in an endless cycle just grew stronger and stronger.

Things were better when her mother was still here, she took notice in the things her and her brother liked and disliked, and gave the siblings some independence and encouraged free thinking a little more. It’s been so long since she’s been gone, sometimes it feels like a recurring nightmare and she’ll awake to find her loving, smiling mother above her waking her, but instead the day always starts the same.

Nathalie knocked on the door reading out todays instructions

“Good morning, Aurora. It’s two hours until it’s time for school, please work out in the family gym for an hour, take a shower and get dressed for school. After school you will be picked up for your fencing lesson, and tonight you are attending a photoshoot alongside Adrien. Your clothes have been picked out, please begin acting on your timetable.”

With that the door closed behind her, and she knew her only option was to head to those orders.

Every day before school her twin brother Adrien and her were instructed to work out in the gym they had in their home. Modelling wasn’t easy work, and the twins always had to maintain shape and peak fitness. This was routine, but even so she didn’t mind this part of her day. Adrien and her were left to themselves, so whilst working out they put songs on and chatted, and they both really enjoyed the time together. Despite living in the same house, and sharing the same enslaved life they tended to be separated from each other by their father. Neither twin knew why once their scheduled activities were over, they were to be in their own rooms. Aurora and Adrien both would sneak into one another’s room, just so the other had some company, and usually if they were quiet this went undetected.

However, the past year or so Adrien hadn’t always been in his room when his sister snuck in. When she would question him, she knew it was a lie, and every time it happened the lies would become more elaborate and messier. All of their lives they shared everything, and knew every secret, and nothing was hidden. They trusted each other without question, so when this mysterious secret her brother had became a regular thing, and despite prying on multiple occasions she still didn’t know what her twin was up too, and this hurt her, and Adrien knew this too.

The days went by like this everyday, gym, school, fencing, modelling, language lessons. Some days were better, because their father allowed them to hang out with their friends, and whenever they could see their friends at all the hard days felt more manageable.

Aurora loves to draw, and to sing and write music, she loves to explore and adventure through random places and discover absolutely nothing, but at the same time see every atom. Adrien doesn’t particularly have any set interest, he enjoys some video games, practising piano alongside his sister, just meeting people and learning new things, and lately Aurora noticed he had something new going on, something secretive.

The twins were both the same, whilst completely different. Adrien cherished the memory of their mother, and tried to be positive each day to live by her memory. He saw the positive outlook in every situation.

Aurora was haunted by the memory of their mother, never knowing the truth of where she truly is, knowing her father is covering up the truth. She lived each day trying her best to want to live, and rather then an happy outlook she saw the bad in everything. She always wore a happy face, and tried her best to imitate her brothers prized smile, just to keep her father happy, and to avoid awkward questions from her friends.

Today at school, she sat with her friends. They were all coming up with a new plan to get Marinette and Adrien together. Aurora supported Marinette in conquest for her brother, and was pretty much their ultimate shipper. Marinette had to beg Aurora not to tell Adrien her secret, and honestly she hated keeping it from her brother, but for the first time in her life she had friends and friends did things for one another, and kept secrets safe. She wouldn’t tell Adrien out of respect for her friend, but when she could she would drop subtle hints to her brother, trying to influence the situation. Adrien’s worst trait, perhaps his only, was being utterly clueless, and he couldn’t take a hint even if it smacked him in the face.

Todays hectic plan of brining Mari and Adrien together consisted of teams; Rose, Juleka, and Mylene were team A, Alix, Alya and Marinette were team B

Aurora had a stand alone job, her assignment was easy, during the photoshoot her brother and her were shooting, to fake a stomach ache and have Adrien escort her into the vacant hair and makeup trailer. To insist she needs fresh air, and to then sneak team B onto the set, Mari would enter said trailer whilst Alix and Alya locked the door from the outside and kept guard. Meanwhile team A would distract Gorilla, the Agreste twins security guard. All during this Aurora was to return to the photoshoot suddenly feeling much better, and stall for her brother as long as possible, giving Marinette enough time to hopefully confess to her brother.

It wasn’t their smartest plan, nor would it be their last, Aurora loved Marinette dearly but her friend was sometimes as hopeless as her brother. It’s why she thinks they’re made for one another.

The plan was set in motion, and after posing for a couple of pictures, Aurora started faking a stomach ache and saying she felt lightheaded, as if on cue her brother escorted her to the trailer to lay down for a bit. Once inside the trailer she kept faking it until she received the signal from the girls, but the signal never came.

Suddenly outside screaming could be heard, panic surged through the streets of Paris, surely this had to be another attack by Hawk Moth. The twins ducked their head outside the trailer, to see a giant akumitized victim spreading terror to the city. Ladybug could be seen swinging to and from buildings, chasing the giant monster.

“You stay here and hide, I’m going to go make sure everyone’s safe!” Adrien yelled as he flung open the door. Aurora grabbed his arm to hold him back.

“Wait it’s dangerous, I’ll come with you.” She knew ladybug and chat noir would save the day, but she too was worried about the photographer and all the others on his team, as well as her bodyguard, and especially her friends who she knew would still be close by.

“No I’ll go alone, um I have to err- …well there’s this thing and … you rest your tummy ache and I’ll go check on the others! Stay here it’ll be safe!” Adrien insisted, flashing his twin a weak, twitchy smile.

Aurora knew this smile, he was lying again. This secret of his always seemed to come about at the worst times, and Aurora trusted her brother, and usually wouldn’t want to impose on his secret, because she too kept Marinette’s secret from Adrien. Yet this secret felt different, and it felt dangerous, and she worried for her brother’s safety, so she waited for her brother to leave the trailer, before quietly tip toeing behind him.

Adrien ran into another trailer, and locked the door behind him. Aurora sneaked around the back and stood on her tip toes, peering through the small gap in the window. She could see the top of her brothers head, but she couldn’t quite see what he was doing.

And that’s when she heard it.

“Plagg, claws out!”

She watched in shock as her brother, her sweet, innocent, sometimes shy brother transformed into a bad ass, sassy superhero, a superhero who had helped save Paris time after time after time, all whilst she stayed hidden.

Thoughts rushed through her head at such a speed she couldn’t comprehend.

Adrien is Chat Noir? Chat noir is Adrien? Everytime I’ve been saved, it was my brother saving me? When my friends and I got transformed into Reflecta’s? When I was nearly crushed by a falling building in an akuma attack…my brother saved me? Everytime i snuck into his room, and he was missing, he was out protecting Paris…protecting me?

She felt useless, and angry at herself, disappointed she failed to see the new worry her twin carried, the new anxiety he faced because of his double life, everything made more sense to her now, but she also couldn’t connect the dots fully. She was full of a thousand questions, a thousand feelings, everything was mixed up in her head.

“Look out!” Chat noir shouted as he swung down on his pole to knock his sister out of the way. She had been so lost in her own thoughts she hasn’t seen the trailer she was just peering through was flipping through the air, and landing straight for her. “You should go hide! It isn’t safe here!”

“Thank you…Adrien.”

Chat noir was already jumping back into action, leaping up a building. He turned his head, disbelief written on his face, he fell to the pavement as his feet scrambled to make the jump.

“What did you say? I have no idea what you mean! Your brother is hiding, I’ve just seen him … um…scratch you later!” Chat noir catapulted off to help ladybug. Adrien had heard what she said, he hoped he had done enough to convince her.

Aurora took her brother’s advice, and this time found a place to hide until she saw the magical ladybugs swirling through the broken rubble and repairing the mess caused from the attack.

She went to find her brother, he was waiting for her at the photoshoot, a worried expression. She smiled at him as she knew this wasn’t the time. They continued their photoshoot, and drove in silence back to their home. Adrien followed Aurora to her bedroom, quietly closing the door behind them.

“Adrien…” she started speaking, until Adrien spoke

“I wanted to tell you, I really did! It pains me so much to keep secrets from you but I couldn’t risk your safety. It’s incredibly dangerous for anyone to know the identity of a miraculous holder. If Hawk Moth ever discovered you knew my secret, the things he might do to you…I couldn’t forgive myself if anything ever happened to you, Aurora!” He had tears in his eyes

She hugged her brother tightly, and whispered “It’s okay Adrien, I’m here for you. I’m sorry I followed you I was just worried about you, you’ve been so distant lately and I just needed to know you were okay. Honestly I’m even more scared for you now that I know you put yourself in danger every day. I promise I’ll keep your secret, I just need you to talk to me because I understand this has to be so stressful for you. I also want you to promise me to always be safe! I couldn’t live if anything happened to you either!”

They both hugged, and sobbed for a long period of time, they both hushed each others silent cries so that their father or Nathalie wouldn’t notice.

Adrien confessed it was nice to have someone know this secret, just so he could have someone to rant too. Aurora from this day forward listened to her brother babble about ladybug for hours on end. Her smile, her laugh, her ocean eyes, her silky hair, her ingenious ideas, all of the inside jokes that Aurora didn’t quite understand but ultimately she was happy for her brother so she just nodded and smiled. Plagg was also happy he didn’t have to hide anymore, and Aurora enjoyed spending time with Plagg now too, as well as her brother.

Life was stressful for both Agreste twins, one who bore a secret that was so dangerous he couldn’t tell a soul but his sister, and one who knew a secret so dangerous her life would be at risk if she were to repeat it, but would never tell a soul to protect her brother. The constant anxiety of another attack by hawk moth scared both twins, Adrien believed in ladybug and knew they would always triumph, but he was petrified more people would discover he was Chat Noir and be at risk like his own sister was. Aurora lived in anxiety each day that her brother would be seriously hurt, or worse, whilst fighting the akumas. Everytime she heard screaming or panic she tried her best to not let it show that it got to her anymore then it should, she would go to every extreme to ensure her brothers safety from hawk moth. Her brave face was just a facade and with everytime Chat Noir swung into action, her heart started beating faster and faster and her breaths became shallow and shaken.

But at least now, they could confide in each other.

[practicingbushiho]

Sorry, but I have to get this off of my chest-- because being told that I am romanticizing something that I chose for myself in order to offer some perspective to minds that tend to hyperfocus on labor vs capital is to me, pretty insulting. But I will do a read more, to spare those of you who don't want to see me grandstand about art and the creation of media, something that is extremely important to me on principle whether or not it is divorced from out current economic hellscape.

To me it seems strange that people can't seem to wrap their heads around the ideology that there are some artists who, contracted for manga publication or no, work more happily or productively in long crunches that sometimes result in sickness or hospitalizations, and it's easy for the media to sensationalize that to promote a talking point about unfair labor practice and in recent events I can understand why people would kneejerk about that.

People deserve to rest when they feel they want to or need to; but the thing is, that everyone has a different threshold and opinion about what that means to them. I think creatives should be able to have more control over that, obviously! I do not like the idea that the average manga ka has to produce 20 pages a week; even with assistants, that is extremely taxing! I am not claiming that the act of overwork is inherently good or bad by virtue of its conceptual existence by default, which may be why I was dismissed-- we have to see overwork as bad because it kills people unequivocally, but I have KNOWN artists that died young but still gave me the impression that they would NOT have taken it another way.

So, to be CLEAR, what I was SAYING is that I myself have DEFINITELY gotten sick from overworking on art, but it's not so cut and dried! I didn't do those things for an employer or for poor pay, and mental/artistic labor does not function in the same ways as overworking on hard labor, or overworking for bad benefits or poor capital-- I VERY transparently criticize Capitalism wholesale for PRESSURING people into overwork but I cannot stress enough that for some artists they don't SEE IT as being pressured into overwork, because for some artists we feel a great deal of emotional distress when we feel like we can't do something (or that we are not allowed to)!!

The sickness I sit through when I overwork with art is sickness that I accept because I am doing work that I am happy with and proud of. I am NOT implying everyone that does art needs to feel this way. Most people never even get an opportunity to produce a serial comic, and if they do get that opportunity, for some artists the overwork can feel like performing an act of gratitude in their personal and artistic lives, and it is not romanticization to make your own choices about the amount of time you spend actively working-- especially if you are making the distinction that it is a choice you are actively making.

It becomes a problem when you feel FORCED to by an outside force, that is true of ANY labor! That isn't up for debate! But to say that overwork would (or even should tbh) just disappear for artists the second they are given more breaks is naive-- because even on days where I'm not working on client projects I am STILL DRAWING for hours, and I am not the only one by a WIDE margin! And that is considered to be overwork! And when I burn out, which is an inevitable fate you will experience as an artist no matter what your workload is, I take my few days to recover before going back at it!

and if you can't grasp that concept because you are knee jerking on the labor vs benefits element of the discourse, then praxis can't be achieved, and I will disengage. People shouldn't have black and white stances about these subjects, and saying so shouldn't be a point of contention, alas

A public forum is no place to have a contrary opinion about labor and work ethics, but with art and making comics/animating/time intensive mediums in particular I will merely accept that most people who weigh in on these things usually are not themselves contracted working comic artists full time, or they do not comprehend the idea that sometimes the compulsion to tell a story just outweighs to health risks for some of us. Shrug.

Guess I'll just romanticize it for myself. That is my choice. I think every artist should at least be able to choose how they feel about it. Because one day for me, I will die; but I will die feeling like I was doing something instead of just rotting and waiting for my life to change or resolve itself in some way. That is my right just as it is anyone else's to NOT want to work 50 hours a week on art lol

[mi6014ikepearson]

Mi6014 - “A SUMMATIVE DOCUMENTARY OF THE PRE-PRODUCTION PROCESS”

at the end of a laborious process: Ike sits back and explains to you (the viewer) the process of his unique approach to the mi6014 module..

below is the transcript for the entire video, click at your own warning, as it is a little lengthy:

hello - I’m Ike Pearson: I’m the creative director behind this module, and every other module with my name on it.

to start off I just want to thank you for following the development of this project; and I hope you enjoyed the final product, as much as I enjoyed making it

filming The Geriatric’ was a lot of fun: and I hope some of that initial enthusiasm I had for making it comes through in the final product

so without taking out too much more time - let’s talk a little about the process of development that went on behind the scenes; to make this project 

most of these stages are highlighted in a little more detail in their own individual blog posts; so I recommend reading those before this video; I recommend reading them, they’re relatively light - I condensed a lot of information into small bite sized packages just for your convenience.. and this video is going to take what is already summative information and make it even more digestible.

 they all have their own witty little titles and should be relatively easy to find using a sense of deduction; you don’t have to be sherlock holmes - just start from the bottom, and scroll up - beginning to end, as usual with these Tumblr blogs.

to start off - I looked into the laws surrounding advertising alcohol; to eliminate any ideas that wouldn’t be legal - so that I wouldn’t get attached to any early concepts that were getting embedded in my head

with a list of things that I could NOT do - the range of my initial ideas to approach with was almost instantaneously halved; and that left me with a pretty strong starting point

from there I looked a little into the brand itself - from it’s origins through the good ol’ history times as well as branding: this was obviously a key stage as it would allow me to understand how the brand presents itself, and as such how I could present it accurately

I also looked into some of their competitors advertising - alternate; more recognisable brands and took nodes of success from them; as well as beginning to find my footing with the style of comedy I would end up using, in the film

with an idea of how other brands advertised alcohol as well as the legality of things -  I started to really come up with much stronger concepts that followed the outlines of what I could do - but this had the issue being much more contnent-heavy and as such I needed to hone in, and realise what is was that would satisfy the brief as well as be something that I actually wanted to make.

the ideas were all above one minute, and I was struggling to design effective shots using a vertical format - so I did further research to come up with solutions rather than pushing them to the side

for example; with the issue of the vertical format - I looked into ‘z theory’ and ‘f theory’ to educate myself on how human eye’s work, and what elements I could use to most effectively draw attention to a certain point of the screen.

though this was a little more science based - these elements of research further enhanced my work; where I was able to (hopefully) hold your attention through the cinematography in the film.

borrowing from this more scientific approach to research; I was intrigued by the concept of accumulating first-hand research; and this is where I quite literally took to the streets and began interviewing passers-by for their 2 cents on the broad subject of ‘whiskey’.

finding out a general perception of the topic was relatively easy as the average opinion was relatively popular and people spouted out the same consensus time and time again

despite some rude interviewees; I decided to come back a few days later, phone in hand and ask if I could record such interviews - most people were fine with it, others not - and as such I used the data from the interviews as well as these recordings as hard evidence that backed up my findings from my prior ‘Ike on the Streets’

with a large enough sample size for my data to be considered accurate enough within a percentage that I never did the maths on - but trust me it’s up there: 

I decided to advertise a more specific set of questions; under the ploy of ‘free curry’ placing posters (with permission) in places where the target audience were the usual crowd such as clubs, the uni campus, and that’s about it - since there were surprisingly a lot of clubs that were willing to let me hang a poster up in their bathrooms

I then held the interview; got my results, and used all that sweet sweet first hand research as a baseline that directed the project.

I did some research into the Target Market audience - and analysed the unique style of post-irony comedy that is most popular with them; as well as looked into current search analytics to find that 80’s fever is still amongst one of the hottest trends; with the release of the New Guardians of the Galaxy in May, as well as the state of fashion borrowing elements such as mullets, moustaches and bright colours.

I looked into the advertising style of the 1980’s and from the investigation I found that the ‘radical’ style of which they’re conducted has come back around under the ‘so bad it’s good’ mentality.

with all these elements falling so perfectly into place - I used the previously discussed audience perceptions (of whiskey drinkers) to create a brand-safe and fun caricature that would star as the focal point of my film, in a similar manner to the 1980’s Domino's Pizza mascot ‘The Noid’ 

it’s here I went straight into doing film tests; alongside my writing - to aid in visualising my concept; and help me figure out what it was I was trying to make - eventually landing on the idea of a fictitious origin story behind Lawson’s new Highlander Orange flavour; with the film being the comedic visualisation of a hypothetical conversation between two friends..

to get to this stage it took a lot of drafts, edits and rewrites - all of which are documented further in the dedicated blog post

finally came the point of making a production video - which was a concept that went through an extreme multitude of different forms; all of which comedic back and forth between a caricatured ‘whiskey drinker’ and a radical gen z / millennial

and with all that out of the way - that’s a summary of the entire production life-cycle

sure does suck to see everything you worked towards over the course of an extended period of time condensed into a short video but in the words of the final short that is how it happened oh wait no they said is that how it happened and then the other one says yes

[phoenixyfriend]

Anakin Assists the Jedi Council While On Medical Leave

AU brainstormed primarily by @atagotiak, @gelpenss, and myself.

Basically, a fix-it based in Anakin getting a peek into the daily life on the Council early, and accidentally Figuring Some Shit Out along the way, mostly because Palps Fucks Up.

So, Anakin gets injured in a way that limits him to Coruscant for a few weeks. He can still walk and talk, but he can't fight. The specific injury doesn't matter, just this:

Anakin runs errands on behalf of the council and sits in on meetings to take minutes as a "you're on medical leave but we need all hands on deck, congrats you get to be the secretary until we can send you on stabbing missions again" thing.

Also, there just aren't a whole lot of people with Anakin's clearance level. They had to send out Stass Allie to handle the mission that was originally next on Anakin's roster, and Anakin's the most convenient person to substitute into her position.

He's not super happy about this but he can more or less understand the point of it. Given that he gets antsy about needing to fight almost immediately, he can acknowledge the worth of having something useful to do, if only as the person who's writing down who says what and making sure everyone has the right file on hand.

(Besides, Obi-Wan jokes in a way that Anakin thinks might be encouraging, this is good practice if Anakin ever wants to be on the High Council himself!)

(This is a very helpful conversation.)

BASICALLY, Anakin is resigned to this but agrees because "Usually we have Master Allie handle this but we need her running that mission that was originally set for the 501st, so you get to fill in for her until you can switch back. Think of it as training for eventual mastery or admin or--listen, we're just really stretched thin."

Here's the key thing, though: Anakin isn't supposed to leave the Temple, for medical reasons, so Palpatine doesn't know Anakin is sitting in on Council meetings. They haven't met up since Anakin's last surgery, and because [muffled hand-wave reason] he didn't find out another way, like Anakin comming him or the Council giving him the heads-up about the change in attendance.

It's fine. He's just taking notes and doing preparatory research, he has the clearance, the Chancellor likes him anyway. Hell, they'd have had someone's Padawan doing this, before the war increased the necessary clearance levels. They'll toss in a quick message in the brief they send to Palps that he never reads anyway, and that's really all they need to do. Skywalker's getting some rounded experience and this way the medics won't be freaking out about him stressing his heart after getting electrocuted by trying to spar too early.

Palpatine doesn't talk directly to the Council, he just sends a recording the first time Anakin is there. It's a bit weird, but nothing goes wrong. Anakin's off-screen from whatever device they use to send a response, since he's not technically a member, just assisting for a bit on the part of Master Allie's duties that he's actually allowed to touch (and not the bits that are getting added to Mace, Plo, and Shaak's stuff).

The first four or so meetings are like that. Anakin starts having a bit of sympathy for the Council as he sees how many things they want to do that are hampered by the need for Senatorial approval, things that he would also want to do and didn't think required this much red tape.

About a week in, still mostly recordings with Anakin just sitting on the side playing paralegal, the wheel of fortune turns a few pegs.

Palpatine hands over a an order on the range of injury that a soldier should be treated for, "to ensure that republic resources aren't being wasted on clones that, while expensive, would actually be cheaper to replace than repair."

Oh, he dresses it up in prettier language than that. Anakin doesn't process it as such first.

The Chancellor manages to couch his phrasing in "prioritizing resources for taxpaying republic citizens and employees of the GAR," which... well.

The natborn commissioned officers pay taxes. The Jedi are employees. The clones are neither, because they're slaves.

Probably he frames it as the employees thing, very much the kinda language that sounds halfway ok unless you’re fluent in political bullshit.

And Anakin is really confused at first about why the council is upset by the order because, okay, he would PREFER to be able to use medical supplies on refugees when possible, but he understands prioritizing the soldiers?

He just looks up, totally lost, when someone groans and goes, "That's the third time this year, is he trying to get us all killed?"

And it vibes as such a genuine, aggrieved, sad reaction that Anakin is completely blindsided because it's not the sarcastic, petty resentment he kind of expected? It's just... desperate depression.

And someone gently has to explain that this is the third time they've had resources restricted to only GAR employees and that it's a polite way of saying "prioritize natborn officers, stop wasting resources on clones, we can replace them easier."

Or maybe he doesn't ask, because he's just there to take notes, not argue, and he can see the masters drawing up a response that amounts to "We would like to remind you that our soldiers do not fall into that classification, and to limit their access to our medical supplies is liable to cause a loss of life that we find unreasonably high. Please see the annotations attached to adjust wording so that the clones may receive the same level of care."

Anakin's internally just like "Yeah, that's phrased nice and addresses the main problem, Palpatine will obviously agree and change it!"

And then he comes in the next day and the response comes in and it's just dripping condescension about considering the clones actual people.

"This is why we can't use the bacta tanks on clones anymore, just the patches. We could use them at first, we had a few of the CCs get through fatal injuries with them, but they cut that off and said we could only use the tanks on Jedi and non-clone officers a few months ago. The Banking Clans keep tightening their belts on the army, and the Chancellor insists we put citizens first, and the clones aren't citizens. We've been arguing back as much as we can, but he keeps going on about the economy and we can't... we just can't, Skywalker. We're trying to save as many of our men as we can, but..."

Something like "Allocation of resources reiterated, the Kaminoans have assured the senate that the Jedi are far from exhausting the resources ordered."

And Anakin's like. He can't blame the council for lying about Palpatine's past or future actions. He just saw Palpatine's actions. Those actions were to order people under his control to throw away lives he saw as replaceable commodities.

These are his friends' lives.

His soldiers are being thrown away by a man in a tower that he trusted.

And then that man has the gall to suggest it's the council's fault.

Palpatine is good at what he does, especially in public, he dresses it up in flowery language and everything, but Anakin's just like "Those are my FRIENDS and also this is??? How slavers talked about their property on Tatooine???? FRIENDPATINE, WHAT THE FUCK."

Anakin can be passive aggressive sometimes as well as outright aggressive. So if he brings up the guidelines and why they make him upset in general terms, and Palpatine says something about how he’s sad the council doesn’t care about the clones...

Anakin, internally, having just watched the council scramble to save as many clones as possible within the guidelines that Palps handed down: Uh-huh.

(Anakin is just the gay horror teeth gif from queer eye.)

Just. “Yeah, funny you say that, Palpatine! Because as I remember, you told the council not to waste more resources than necessary while Mace Windu was arguing to expand the treatment range!”

Palps doesn't even have time to salvage the situation or attack Anakin because Anakin just bulldoze rants for fifteen minutes and then storms out.

Anakin... maybe does a little treason and gets a copy of the orders so he can ask Padme "Hey, can you explain the politics of this?" and doesn't tell her who wrote it so she isn't biased (he tells her that this is why he's not sharing the author's/speaker's name), and just lets Padme pick apart all the 'this is a nice way of saying they don't view the clones as people' details.

Alternately, someone on the Council sees Anakin dithering and manages to get him to admit that he's not great at political language and wants to ask someone to help him understand the full implications. The person--Mace? let's go with Mace--is aware that Anakin is on good terms with Senator Amidala, if not necessarily aware of the depth of said relationship. Mace points out that he's probably going to be seeing her soon just because he usually does and, as a Senator, she can get easy access to these sessions since they're not about specific missions, just allocation of resources, etc. It's not an optimal solution, but she's got a bit more free time than anyone else Anakin knows with the clearance levels, like Order members that are actively involved in the war effort.

Anakin dithers and panics and Mace, trying to be helpful, tells him that plenty of Jedi have made friends among the Senate over the years, didn't you know Qui-Gon Jinn was a personal friend of Former Chancellor Valorum?

At any rate, Anakin goes to Padme and asks her to explain it to him, because she knows how to phrase things so he gets it.

Anakin has to have her pause and he goes outside and destroys some things halfway through.

(Anakin maybe thinks back to the times Padmé or Obi-Wan were really obviously frustrated and when he asked, they said stuff like “I can’t stand Palpatine rn, sorry Anakin I know he’s important to you and you don’t want to talk about politics, let’s just talk about something else.”)

(Obi-Wan: I don’t trust Palpatine Anakin: you just don’t like politicians in general Obi-Wan: yes that is also true)

(Obi-Wan does like Bail and Padme but he does also talk a bit about how politicians generally aren’t to be trusted.)

[luveline]

in the morning, afternoon and night [Fred Weasley x Reader]

tags: reader-insert, hurt/comfort, self esteem issues, low self esteem, reader has acne, sad reader, insecure reader

pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

word count: 1.8k

You glared at your reflection.

You'd think with such amazing magical medicine available, some witch or wizard would've invented a cure for acne, or at least a spell that covered it up.

You'd struggled with it since your third year. The muggle doctor you'd seen with your mother had suggested it was hormonal, and would calm down as you got older.

That was years ago.

It shouldn't have been a big deal. It wasn't, really. It wasn't usually very painful, though it was itchy as a stinging nettle and twice as unsightly. A large part of you knew it wasn't your fault, that acne was something that simply affected people at different times in their lives. You'd tried topicals and changing your diet, you'd tried losing weight and exercising and dermaplaning and everything they suggested in your mams fashion magazines.

Nothing worked.

Tears welled in your eyes and you sniffed them back, blinking rapidly.

It might've been silly, but it honestly made you want to hide away. You'd skipped dinner without really thinking, finding your way into the girls bathroom you inhabited now. You straightened your tie and robes, dusting down the sides. You leaned forward again, dabbing under your eyes with your sleeve.

The last thing you wanted was for anyone to know you'd been crying, because then someone might ask why. You didn't want to talk about it, ever.

If Fred saw you like this...

You and Fred Weasley had been almost dating for a few weeks now. Almost, because you hadn't talked about the whole boyfriend/girlfriend thing yet.

It had been years of thinking he was the fittest boy in Gryffindor (besides George) and months of meeting his gaze in the corridors and catching his eye over dinner. Gradually it had become something more; he started carrying your books between classes and opening doors, touching your arms and your hair and your face.

You cringed at the memory. He had been so caring, moving to wipe an eyelash from the skin under your eye. You'd violently flinched from his hand, afraid he might feel the bumpy texture of your skin, feel the acne beneath your makeup. He'd been apologetic and a little confused, filling you with guilt. You hadn't been able to find a way to tell him it wasn't him, it was you. Of course you wanted him to touch you, the thought of him cradling your face had been the subject of many dizzy daydreams, but you just couldn't tell him this one thing.

It was your deepest insecurity.

The stress had only made it worse. Redness was easy to cover with muggle make up and even some wizarding tricks you'd learned over the years, but there wasn't a way to smooth your skin, and the acne was textured.

It was depressing. You didn't want to use that word, it felt ungrateful to compare your skin issues to something so severe, but it made you miserable.

You but down on your quivering lip, pushing away from the mirror unhappily and opening the bathroom door, a frown on your face.

"Y/N!" a familiar voice said.

You jumped, startled but unsurprised. Fred had a talent of always knowing where you were. You'd find it creepy if he wasn't so endearing.

"Fred," you said, plastering a smile over your frown. "I was just coming to find you."

"What a coincidence, ma chérie, I was doing the same."

"Well," you began, easily sidling into his space, "you found me."

"Yes, I did," Fred hummed, wrapping his arms behind your neck, grinning.

He took a long look at your face, his forehead creased. "What's wrong?"

"Nothings wrong, Fred."

He moved his hands to your shoulders, looking down into your face searchingly. "Have you been crying?" he asked.

You shook your head, lying without thinking. "Something in my eye,"

"Both of them?"

You stepped backwards. He let go of your shoulders accordingly.

"Y/N?"

"It's really nothing," you said through a forced laugh.

He frowned at you for a few seconds more and his face cleared. "Alright," he said slowly, rolling the words in his mouth, "if you say so, doll."

You opened like a blooming flower at the pet name, your whole face softening. You smiled, hoping he understood that the smile meant, oh I just so adore you, Fred Weasley.

He threaded his fingers through yours, dragging you down the corridor beside him and waxing poetic about their newest lot of Peruvian darkness powder as you went.

-

It got so bad you couldn't go to class.

Okay, so you definitely could've gone to class, but the thought of leaving your curtained bed was enough to make you sick with anxiety, so worried that everyone would see you - see your face.

NEWTs were coming fast and hard. Everyone who wanted to be anyone was working hard studying their asses of, on top of Professor Umbridge's million new rules you had to abide by, including her newest life-ruining rule: Boys and girl are not to be within 5 inches of each other.

What a joke. You struggled through classes, wrote essays so long your hand burned at night and now you weren't allowed to sit next to your almost boyfriend at lunch? It was miserable. It was making you miserable, and now you may as well have sharpied on your forehead how equipped your body was to deal with it.

Fucking badly.

You groaned to yourself, rolling on your side to face the wall. You were at your wits end. It felt endlessly unfair that the thing that was stressing you out most was getting worse from stress.

Your stomach growled hungrily.

You threw your arm over your eyes in defeat, eyes finally filling with tears. You felt so hopeless. There was nothing to be done except keep up your routine until the flare up was over, or until your mothers next 'miracle cure' popped into existence.

The tears felt too hot against your sore skin. You couldn't help but sob quietly to yourself in self-pity.

A knock sounded at the door. You gasped, wiping the tears away in panic.

"Y/N?" It was Alicia. "Are you alright? Can I come in?"

"Yes," you managed. "Yes, of course. It's your room too, after all."

The door clicked open. Alicia appeared, tanned skin completely clear and glowing, though each perfect feature was marred with empathy. "Fred's been begging every girl in the common room to come fetch you, but I told him to leave you be."

"Thank you," you said.

You cleared your throat. Alicia moved her weight from foot to foot, twisting her hands.

"I- Y/N. I won't pretend to know how it feels, but I promise you, Fred won't care. He's beside himself worrying that you're bedridden and dying or-" she laughed to herself, "or that you're still mad at him for the itching powder. What I mean is... he's a good guy, and you're upset. Maybe you should tell him what's wrong. He won't care."

You sniffed. "I know," you admitted, feeling the weight of her shifting the bed. "I know he's a great guy. I just wouldn't blame him if he, if he didn't like me anymore. If he found it ugly. I would understand it, and I think that makes it worse," you choked on your words, heat building behind your eyes.

"Oh, Y/N," Alicia said, placing a tentative but comforting hand on your shoulder.

You lay in quiet, listening to your own ragged breathing.

"I'll go talk to him," Alicia said.

"No! I mean, no. Thank you, but no. I... I'll speak to him myself."

Alicia nodded, rubbing your arm kindly.

The sound of the door clicking shut behind her finally spurred you into sitting up. You dressed in a hurry, chucking a wool jumper over last nights pyjamas.

He wouldn't care, would he? You cringed. Yes, he definitely would. Whatever was between you would stop. He'd have the grace to let you down slowly, drawing away his affections. He was a polite guy, he'd probably even say the whole spiel of "it's not you, it's me". But he would, eventually.

Well, you figured. Let it be quick. Like ripping off a bandaid.

You tread lightly down the steps, hoping to see him before he saw you.

Of course, when the slightest groan on the bottom step sounded, his lovely face whipped to meet yours. He smiled in relief, but it was mixed with something else. Disgust, your brain supplied nastily. He was disgusted. He rose to his feet, smiling smiling smiling. But something in his eyes was different, now.

"Y/N," he said.

"Hi," you said.

"Hi yourself, beautiful. Where've you been all day?"

"I'm... sick. Bad cold," you settled on.

He raised an eyebrow. "You sound okay," he said, not unkindly.

"I..." you looked down at your hands.

A siren was sounding in your head. You didn't think Fred had seen you without make up for the last 3 years. Fight or flight was leaning heavily towards flight.

"Well, are you hungry?"

You shook your head.

"Are you sure? You haven't eaten all day. You need something in your system if you're gonna fight this cold."

"I'm not actually sick, Fred," you admitted under your breath.

"I know."

You looked up. He was still smiling kindly. It was infuriating.

"Look," you said finally, rushed and all at once, "if you don't want to- if you're grossed out. Then it's fine, I'll understand if you don't want to see me anymore."

Fred was stricken.

"I know it's - ugly."

"Ugly? Nothing about you is ugly."

"Fred, my face-"

"No, listen to me, Y/N. It's not ugly. It's not gross. You're not any of those things, are you kidding?" he said, grabbing your hands. "You're beautiful. All the time, in the morning, afternoon and night. You're beautiful in charms and transfiguration and care of magical creatures. You were beautiful yesterday and you're beautiful today and you'll be even more so tomorrow." He stopped suddenly, looking down at your joined hands. His cheeks had turned bright red.

"Smooth, Freddie," came George's voice, from the sofa behind them.

"Shove OFF," exclaimed Fred, growing more red by the second. Heat filled your own cheeks.

"It's skin, Y/N. That's all it is."

"Okay," you said tightly, trying not to cry.

Fred breathed out, his hair shifting in response. His corded arms pulled you tight to his chest. You breathed him in. He smelled sweet and rough, like burning caramel.

He thought you were beautiful.

You smiled into his shirt.

<3<3<3

tag list: @msmimimerton

if you’d like to be added to a tag list, please ask ! for in general or for specific characters, i don’t mind

[fandom-puff]

Teach Me Tiger- Tywin Lannister

Warnings: political/arranged marriage, smut, loss of virginity, sketchy medieval sex Ed (ie, reader thinks the only purpose of sex is procreation), masturbation/guided masturbation, older man/younger woman

This is inspired a little by my Tywin Lannister marriage HCs a did a few weeks ago :). Also soz it took so long I was working on this for quite a while and I DEFINITELY got carried away oops xx

Gif creds to owner

Song creds to owner

Teach me Tiger how to kiss you

Show me Tiger how to kiss you

The heavy velvet draped over your shoulders, in Lannister red and gold, almost weighing you down as you turned back to the septon, not daring to look up at the old lion you now called husband. Barely processing the words of the septon, you stood stock still, until it was time for you to turn to Tywin, tip your chin up and receive his kiss. It was a chaste, barely there kiss, done out of duty rather than love. Of course there wasn’t any love behind it; this marriage was done only out of duty, duty to Casterly Rock, which needed a suitable heir without a tarnished reputation for incest and whoreing, duty to your house, which desperately needed Lannister gold and men. Nevertheless, the ghost of a kiss still left you a little breathless and dizzy, and you couldn’t help but think of the bedding ceremony later on that night.

Take my lips, they belong to you

“We do not have to consummate the marriage right this instant,”

You looked over your shoulder, lip drawn into you mouth nervously. “But-”

“You’re young, inexperienced. And you’ve been tense with nerves since you walked into the sept. Come. Sit. We’ll have some wine. Talk, if you’d like,” Tywin gestured to a simple couch, big enough for the two of you to sit without being too close.

Still worrying your lip between your teeth, you perched on the edge, accepting your Lord husband’s offer of a goblet of wine. “I- I thought... my purpose was to give you an heir, my Lord,” you murmured, staring at the dark red liquid in the cup.

Tywin sighed and sat down, leaving just over a foot between you, nursing his own goblet. “It is. Eventually,” he said. “When you are ready. I would not force myself on you,”

“But the king said-”

“Never mind what the king said. My grandson has no say in what happens in my- our marriage chamber,”

A little more relaxed, you braved a look up at your husband, admiring his chiselled jaw, his blonde hair streaked with white, before quickly draining your goblet, feeling a little more relaxed as you stood to set it down. Tywin watched with fascination as you put your cup back on the tray, eyes fixed on you as you came to sit back down- he was very much aware of the fact that you sat a little closer to him. Happy to go off your lead, he continued to nurse his drink, eyes occasionally flicking to you as you shuffled a little closer. He tensed briefly as you leaned into him, before relaxing slowly.

“I-I’d like you to kiss me, please,” you murmured, your soft voice barely reaching his ears. Tywin arched his brows, locking eyes with you, silently asking if you were sure.

You nodded your head, tipping your chin up the same way you had done in the Sept.

But teach me first, teach me what to do

Tywin gave you another chaste kiss that had your tummy fluttering, and you found yourself leaning further forward as he was pulling away. A low laugh rumbled in his chest. “Easy now,” he said.

“I’m sorry,” you sighed, looking away, cheeks heating with embarrassment.

“For what?” Tywin asked, standing up and offering you his hand.

“For... being inexperienced, I suppose. I doubt I’m the most exciting bedfellow you’ve ever had,” you rubbed your arm, self conscious. Despite the heat of kings landing, you felt a soft chill skitter over your flesh. “I don’t... know...” you looked at the floor, suddenly very interested in the grain of the wood.

“You’re a maid, I take it?” When you nodded quickly, Tywin held up his hand. “It matters not to me. Not in that way. But I presume you’ve never known a man? I presume you’ve never... known yourself?” He added in an undertone, and you let out a little gasp, shaking your head.

“Will you...” you gulped, looking up at him, seeing his pupils slowly expand. “Teach me? To know...”

“Teach you to know me, or yourself?”

You straightened your back, chest raising and falling with each breath. “Both,”

Touch me Tiger when I'm close to you

The small sitting area, with its couch, desk, bookshelves and table, was most certainly not the place for the consummation of your marriage. Tywin led you through a small passageway and a door to his sleeping chambers. Instantly, your eyes made contact with the bed, already turned down, pillows plumped. Clearing his throat, Tywin directed your attention back to him. “Help me with these buttons. They are much too fiddly,” he said, gesturing to his doublet. You smiled softly, happy to carry out the simple task to put your nerves at ease, knowing full well that Tywin could undo his own buttons. “Shall I undo your braids?” He asked as you folded the expensive scarlet fabric, leaving him in his linen shirt and his trousers.

“Yes please,” you murmured. “The hairpins have been stabbing me all day and night,”

Tywin smirked, stepping behind you and towering over you as he began unpinning the intricate braids, letting you unravel them as they fell to your shoulders. “We can’t have that,” he said and you smiled, running your fingers through your hair. When the final braid was loosened and unraveled, you couldn’t help but lean back into Tywin, sighing softly as his hands came to rub the tension out of your shoulders. Eyes fluttering shut, you tipped your head back to rest it against his shoulder, exposing your throat and allowing him to undo your necklace and cast it aside as your apprehension melted away. Slowly, Tywin’s elegant hands moved from your shoulders to smooth over your waist, making you gasp as his fingers kneaded the flesh there.

“My Lord-”

“Tywin,” he whispered into your ear, relishing in your little shudder.

“Tywin...” you sighed. “Please... the dress...”

“Off?” He asked, just to be sure, not wanting to rush you. With your eager nod, he made a noise of content, stepping back a little to access the lacing of your dress, slowly unthreading it, allowing the delicate fabric to flutter to the ground, leaving you in your chemise and stockings and bodice. You kicked off your shoes, dropping a few inches in height as you began fumbling with the fiddly laces of your bodice. His eyes were firmly on you as you began the painstaking process of unlacing your bodice, and you did not miss the way his tongue darted out to moisten his lips as your nimble fingers worked the end of the lace through the many holes. When the structured garment finally fell to the ground with a dull thud, you looked back up to him, resisting the urge to cross your arms over your chest- the thin chemise you wore as a buffer between your corset and your skin was sheer enough that you were sure he could see your tightening nipples through it.

Tywin flicked his eyes over your form briefly, before approaching you slowly. You were fully aware that he still had his boots and trousers on, though now that his doublet was off, you could see the tightness in them. Arching his brow in amusement, he asked “would you like me to undress?”

Chewing your lip, you nodded, sitting on the foot of his bed as you watched him take off his shirt. You gulped, eyeing up his chest shamelessly; you were surprised at how... well he looked, especially at his age, your eyes lingering on his sinewy yet strong form. Snapping out of your little trance, you looked to the floor, face flooding with heat as Tywin smirked at you. “You can look, you know. I am your husband after all,”

You let out a nervous laugh at his remark, though as he kicked off his boots and began to unlace his trousers, you couldn’t unlock your eyes from his stare, drawing your lip into your mouth as his trousers dropped to the floor. “S-should we... get into bed?” You murmured.

“We shall. But I will say this now, YN, if you do not want to be intimate tonight, I can wait until you’re ready. We could just lay and talk, or you could sleep,”

You smiled slightly. Tywin was surprising you more and more; at the wedding feast you had heard bawdy remarks that the head of house Lannister would simply have his wicked way with you and then bundle you off to Casterly Rock whether you liked it or not. It seemed he would do nothing of the sort. “I’d like to lay a while,” you murmured. Tywin nodded and gestured for you to make himself comfortable in the grand bed. It was difficult not to, what with the soft pillows and comfortable mattress. Tywin lay by your side, leaving a gap between you both as he had done on the couch, drawing the covers up to cover you both.

Help me Tiger, I don't know what to do

You lay in relative silence for a while, occasionally glancing at one another, making small remarks here and there. Eventually, a streak of boldness bolted through you and you turned on your side, facing Tywin, your chin propped up by your hand.

“you know before...” you began, trying to avoid Tywin’s gaze as he looked at you with amusement. You sighed, changing tack. “You said you would help me to know you,”

“That I did,” he prompted, knowing there was something more to your rambling.

“But... you also said you’d help me... know myself,” Tywin nodded slowly, urging you on. “How?” You finished bluntly.

“I assume you know... the mechanics,” he said vaguely.

“Yes. Well, what my septa taught me,”

“Ah. What your septa failed to tell you was that it can be quite... an enjoyable experience. For both parties. You may feel intense pleasure, that is,”

“But... the purpose is to... make an heir,” you said, frowning slightly.

“And there is more chance of success if you enjoy yourself doing it,”

You bit your lip slightly. “Can you show me?” You asked, voice barely more than a whisper. Tywin looked at you intensely, and instantly, you answered the silent questions that blazed in his eyes. “Please. I’m sure,”

Nodding, Tywin eased you onto your back, proving himself up on his elbow as he hovered over you. “It is very important that you prepare yourself... there are many places in your body that the simplest touch-” still beneath the sheets, he dragged his knuckle over your clothes waist, smirking at your shiver, “-will bring you pleasure. Touch your body, YN, through your chemise,” you nodded slowly, shutting your eyes as you ran your fingertips up, over your thighs, your hips, your waist... then back down. On every other journey, you’d swipe your thumbs over your clothed nipples, gasping and arching your back. Tywin hummed in approval, tipping your chin up so he could press several kisses to your throat. “Very good...” he whispered into your ear, relishing in your pleased shudder. He placed his large hand over one of yours and guided it further south. You gulped, aware of the hot wetness gathering between your thighs. “Now... here...”

You took a breath, hitching your chemise up until it was bunched over your hips. Tywin could not see thanks to the covers, but he could just imagine your wetness, giving the way you had been wriggling your hips. “Spread your legs,” he murmured, feeling his cock twitch in wake of your pretty sighs. “Good,” he praised, and you nodded, biting your lip hard. “Now, touch yourself, between your legs,”

“How will I know if...”

“You will know,” he affirmed and you nodded, beginning to stroke around the general vicinity until-

Your back arched and you let out a shuddery moan. He was right. You definitely knew. Quickly becoming both breathless and speechless, you allowed yourself to succumb to pleasure as your lord husband watched. Gasping for air, you felt yourself climb further and further and further, until you toppled over the peak, aided by a slight pinch to your nipple. Shaking, you stared up at the ceiling, feeling gentle lips pressed against your forehead as you recovered from your high. You felt yourself leaning into him, moaning softly at the dull throb between your legs. When you finally trusted yourself to speak without an embarrassing wobble to your voice, you looked up at your husband, eyes blown wide with desire for the lion. “Please...” you whispered.

I know that you could love me to

But show me first, show me what to do

This is the first love that I have ever known

What must I do to make you my very own?

Tywin nodded, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. You knew his tenderness was to calm you down. It wasn’t out of love; how could you love one another? Your marriage had been one of political strategy, and you were well aware that the only love Tywin Lannister ever knew was for his late wife Joanna.

Teach me Tiger how to tease you

But as Tywin manoeuvred himself between your thighs, the candle light casting shadows from his high cheekbones, you felt... something. He was being so gentle with you, so tender, his large hands splaying over your waist and stomach and hips as you tugged your chemise over your head, leaving you completely nude beneath him. You licked your lips quickly, feeling undoubtedly exposed as you were spread out beneath him, thighs parted to cradle him between them. Eyeing the bulge in his linen underwear, you bit your lip, your nerves running through you again, mile a minute.

Sensing your nervousness, Tywin took your hand, guiding it slowly to his prominent bulge. You gasped, feeling the hot, hard flesh through the fabric as you palmed him. Even through the fabric you could tell how well endowed he was. As your hand ran over the ridges of his cock, Tywin let out a suppressed groan. “Clever girl,” he praised softly and you smiled, nibbling your lip.

Eventually, Tywin knocked your hand away, reaching to fish his cock from his underwear. You barely got a look before he was hovering above you, holding one of your thighs apart with one hand, the other guiding his cock over your wet entrance. “This may hurt... only for a moment,” he murmured, and you nodded- your septa had not spared you the details of procreation.

As he eased his cock into your waiting hole, you felt yourself tense up. He was barely in you, yet you felt so full. The fullness was soon accompanied by a slight pain that had you gasping, but pretty soon you were overcome by the sensation of being stretched out. Giving an experimental rock of your hips, you groaned out, the noise guttural and wanton, and your lips were unable to stop it escaping. “Move,” you whispered. “Move, please,” you hooked your legs around his hips for good measure, heels beginning to press into his lower back as he began rocking his hips, pulling almost all the way out before easing back in.

Once he was sure you had adjusted properly, Tywin’s thrusts became a little rougher, shallower, and you could feel his cock drag over the sensitive walls then clenched tightly around it. He knelt up, dragging you further down the mattress as he rutted into you, skin slapping hard against yours as you wriggled, head tipped back to groan and cry out. Your hair was a mess, your lips were swollen, and your noises steadily grew louder and louder despite your attempts muffle them. Tywin did not try to quiet you, relishing in the cries of passion he was able to draw from you. It gave him a sense of pride to know that his wife was in ecstasy, that his wife was taking her pleasure beneath him like she were a common harlot and he a lowly peasant. And most of all, he relished in the fact that you would soon have a belly full of his children, swelling with the continuation of the Lannister dynasty.

Tiger, Tiger I wanna squeeze you

Clutching onto any inch of his skin you could find, your back arched upwards off the bed as your nails dragged down his arms, you came with a lusty, broken cry, your entire being quivering around him as a sensation more intense than your previous orgasm washed over you. Tywin growled, letting out a low shuddering groan as he finished, and you felt the odd, yet erotic, sensation of his seed filling you to the brim.

All of my love I will give to you

Panting, twitching, and letting out soft whimpers, you fell back among the pillows as Tywin moved to your side. “Are you alright?” He asked you, pressing the pads of his thumbs against your cheeks, swiping away your fallen tears. You didn’t even realise you were crying, too distracted by your crashing release. You managed a small nod and a hum of reassurance as you slowly regained the ability to move. Already you felt your thighs aching, your core still throbbing. You could feel a bit of your husband’s seed slipping from your body, trailing lazily between your thighs. The rest, you knew, was deep inside of you. Tywin sat up, tugging the sheets back over you before laying back down beside you. You hummed contentedly as Tywin pulled you into his side, and you could feel his heart still pounding as you both settled into post coital bliss.

“Do you think... it’ll work?” You murmured, already nodding off as the room became dimmer, the candles close to their ends.

“What, that you’ll be with child after tonight?” When you have a slight nod, Tywin chuckled. “Part of me hopes so. As you’re aware, I am in desperate need of a suitable heir,”

“And the other part?” You whispered.

“The other part of me hopes that you don’t fall pregnant just yet...” you picked up on the suggestive edge to his voice, increasingly grateful for the darkening room as your eyes widened.

“If I don’t... if I’m not... then we will try again. Maybe even... recreationally,” you cringed inwardly at your own formality; the man had been balls deep in you only moments ago. “But I will do my best to fulfil my duties as your lady wife,”

“Hmm... and the lady of Casterly rock?” He teased and you rolled your eyes.

“Casterly rock too. On one condition though,”

But teach me Tiger or I'll teach you

Tywin arched his brows, not used to being given conditions.

“You treat me well. You obey your vows. You don’t treat me like a whore or a thing to fuck and throw away as soon as you’ve got an heir and a spare. You treat me as your lady wife. Protect me, guide me, and at the very least, try to love me. Because that is exactly what I will be doing for you,”

Tags: @sociallyawkward-princess @lazyotakujen

[babyboibucky]

Charming (Part 2 of Charm)

Pairing: TFATWS!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky has everything planned out for his date with you.

Word Count: 2,566

Warnings: No TFATWS spoilers here, Bucky being charming (hence the title) is a warning in itself

A/N: Ahhh you guys, thank you for all the love for Charm! I didn’t expect for that oneshot to receive so much love from everyone. Can’t thank y’all enough!!! For those who haven’t read it yet, make sure to do so before reading this!

Charm (Part 1) || MAIN MASTERLIST

Bucky nervously waited outside of your apartment building. He made sure to plan really well for this date, he didn’t want to mess up. He really liked talking to you and he wanted you to enjoy this day.

“Okay, I’m ready!” You announced as you stepped out of the building, jogging downstairs to approach him.

You looked excited, Bucky noticed. Okay, that’s good. He’s off to a good start. He found himself smiling at you, admiring this light and bright aura that radiated off of you. He could use a little light in his life and it might be too soon for Bucky to even consider it, but you seemed like the perfect girl to him.

“Hi.” Bucky greeted. “You look beautiful.” He said, eyeing you from head to toe.

Bucky’s confidence grew when your cheeks turned pink at his compliment. You thanked him and let your eyes fall to his left arm, making Bucky instantly regret his decision to forego the gloves. He should’ve worn his jacket on top of his blue henley. All his worries though eventually dissipated when you reassured him.

“Glad you aren’t wearing your gloves, it looked really uncomfortable.” You told him genuinely.

Bucky shyly let out a chuckle, “Yeah.”

“So, to the park?” You asked excitedly.

Bucky made a face, “Actually, I thought of changing our plans a bit. Hope that’s alright?” He asked hopefully.

You narrowed your eyes at him as you nodded, “Hmm, that sounds interesting. Alright then, what do you got?”

Embarrassment filled Bucky’s entire being when he whipped out a folded piece of paper from his back pocket. He glanced at you and watched your expression as he unfolded it, revealing it to be the size of a bond paper where he had written down his agenda for the day.

“Oh wow, that’s...very interesting.” You pointed out but with no malice. In fact, you were impressed.

Who would’ve thought that guys nowadays came to a date prepared? But then again, Bucky wasn’t from this time but truly appreciated how old-fashioned he still was.

Bucky rubbed his neck, “I made an itinerary but saying that out loud, it actually sounds terrible.”

“Not at all!” You were quick to defend. “I like a well-planned day. I’m not really the spontaneous type so this really works well for me.” You chuckled.

Bucky bit his lip to stop himself from smiling too wide. It seemed like the date would go pretty well, he hoped it’d last the entire day though. He couldn’t help but worry that something might happen that would throw you off. Or that he might end up saying things that you’d find offensive.

“What’s first on the itinerary?” You asked.

-

“I got a strike!” You squealed in excitement and pumped your first in the air.

Bucky took you to a bowling place and honestly, he didn’t expect for you to be so excited about it. He felt silly for outdoing himself for this first date. In fact, he researched about dating in the modern day the moment he got home after meeting you. The tips were very different, some of which he wasn’t comfortable doing. So instead of adjusting to the present, Bucky stayed true to himself.

He was going to do it his own way, no matter how traditional it seemed. This led him to writing down his ideas on a piece of paper and planning everything out properly.

“Looks like I won.” You smirked, seeing the scores flash on the television hanging on the ceiling. “Did you go easy on me? Tell me the truth, Bucky.” You warned as you looked at him suspiciously.

Bucky chortled and shook his head, “I didn’t. It’s been decades since the last time I did this so I got pretty rusty at it.” He explained.

“You ready to grab something to eat?” He asked, checking the time and seeing that it was close to three in the afternoon.

You nodded enthusiastically, “I’m starving! I mean, beating a super soldier at bowling can be really exhausting.” You teased.

Bucky smiled, “Great, but can we stop by somewhere first?”

-

Bucky felt proud at himself when he saw the astonished look in your face.

“Oh my god, is this...?” You asked, eyeing the car that Bucky drove out of a car rental shop.

“A 1942 Pontiac Torpedo.” Bucky boasted before stepping out of the car and leading you towards the front seat.

Bucky waited for you to slip in, your expression still that of utter disbelief, before closing the door and walking around to ride back inside.

“And it’s the convertible one.” He said proudly and laughed at your reaction when he brought down the roof.

“I have no words for this, Bucky. This is amazing!” You exclaimed, running your hands on the compartment and just taking in the beautiful interiors of the vintage car.

Bucky watched you with a soft look in his eyes. He felt kind of selfish for gloating at the fact that this date only proved to himself that he still is James Buchanan Barnes. Despite decades of torture and brainwashing as the Winter Soldier, he still had pieces of himself left.

But seeing you so giddy at the date that he poured so much effort in? Maybe he wasn’t so selfish after all.

“And where will you be taking us next for you to rent this lovely vehicle? I honestly don’t know what to expect after this. I’m just...I love it!” You laughed, unable to hide your excitement.

“We’re having burgers and milkshakes.” Bucky announced.

-

Bucky wanted you to experience what it was like dating in his time, so it was only right that he took you to a diner. But it wasn’t just the regular one, he took you to a drive-in diner where waitresses even wore roller derby skates.

“You just keep on outdoing yourself, Bucky. I’m speechless!” You laughed.

The waitress rolled by your car and took your orders. After she left, there was finally a moment of peace which allowed you and Bucky to have an actual conversation.

“Did you often hang out in one of these places then?” You asked.

Bucky smiled at the memories, “Yeah, used to take Steve with me. He always ended up getting mad whenever he realized that it was a set-up for a double date.”

You hummed in amusement. “You seemed really popular with the ladies, huh?”

Bucky chuckled timidly before letting out a sigh. He turned to you curiously and creased his forehead, “Why didn’t you tell me you knew who I was?” He finally asked.

You seemed surprised at his question but your features softened up almost immediately. Shrugging as if it was no big deal, you told him that you really didn’t feel the need to do so.

“Would it change anything if I told you I knew who you were?” You curiously asked.

Bucky thought for a brief moment, “I probably would’ve excused myself and left.”

“That’s what I thought.” You said. “You seemed comfortable then, I didn’t want to overwhelm you by bringing it up. Besides, I really don’t care about it. I mean, I had fun talking to you and that’s all that matters to me. Superhero or not, I do enjoy your company.”

Bucky snickered, “I don’t think superhero is the right word.”

“You’ll be surprised that a lot of people call you that.” You said, placing a hand on Bucky’s arm, squeezing it to offer him comfort.

Bucky loosened up at your touch and kept his gaze lingering on how your fingers were wrapped around his arm.

“There’s this one kid at the orphanage I volunteer at,” you said, letting go of Bucky’s arm as you adjusted your position in the car so you could turn to him. Bucky almost missed the warmth from your hand on his skin.

“I asked them to draw someone they looked up to and this is his work.” You said, bringing out your phone to show Bucky a photo of the drawing.

Bucky’s breath hitched when you handed him your phone, revealing that the kid drew a man with long brown hair and a metal arm. He used black and gold to color the metal arm, not silver. It didn’t even have the red star on it. When Bucky looked up at you, he saw the most genuine smile he had ever seen.

“I asked him why he chose you and he said that he liked how Captain America’s best friend fought alongside him. For a kid his age, he knew a lot about your history too. He’s a huge fan.” You laughed.

Bucky’s eyes almost brimmed with tears. He was unable to believe that a kid would look up to him, consider him a superhero. All this time he had been seeing himself as a villain still, the bad guy. Someone who would have a hard time redeeming himself. You made him think twice about it, that maybe he had been too harsh on himself.

“You should come with me to the orphanage some time. The kids will love you, Bucky. It’s not that hard to do so.” You said softly, lifting your hand up to fix a strand of Bucky’s hair that was out of place.

It was a beautiful moment between the two of you. Bucky felt vulnerable but safe, like you’d keep him safe. Not from danger but from his very own destructive thoughts. Whenever he loses control of his mind, whenever it wanders into the darkest parts of his past, Bucky tends to self-destruct. And he almost wandered there but you were quick to pull him back to the surface.

“What are you thinking of?” You asked when you noticed that Bucky was just staring at you.

Bucky’s gaze fell onto your lips and then back at your eyes, “Thinking about whether I should just go for it now.”

“Go for what?” You blinked.

Bucky slowly leaned in but was immediately startled when the waitress arrived with your orders.

-

After the diner, Bucky drove to the park where the two of you walked around while talking about well, anything. He learned more about you and this time, he didn’t have to lie about anything whenever you asked him. In fact, Bucky got really comfortable opening up about his life in the 40’s, he even talked about his family.

The two of you talked more until the sun set and the next thing you knew was that Bucky brought you to a drive-in theater and bought pizza to cap off the date.

-

It was a little past ten in the evening when Bucky drove you home. He opened the car door for you and nervously fidgeted with the piece of paper in his back pocket.

“So did you tick off everything on the itinerary?” You asked.

Bucky let out the fakest laugh because no, he hasn’t ticked off everything on his list. There was one more thing that he planned to do at the very end of the date. He had been confident about it, especially after how much you enjoyed the date in its entirety. But, now standing outside your apartment building and staring at you nervously, he wasn’t sure whether he had enough courage to pull this off.

“I uhh...well...” Bucky stammered. “Did you enjoy?” He asked again, just to be sure.

“I am offended that you had to ask because I thought my face was unable to hide at how much I did!” You laughed.

“Thank you for giving me the 1940s experience. I love it. I really do, it’s...it’s been a while since I last went on a date that I really enjoyed.” You shyly admitted, biting your lip and looking up at Bucky through your lashes.

Bucky’s breath got caught in his throat as he gazed down at you. You looked really beautiful, no matter how simple you looked. He wanted to take you out to another date, maybe tomorrow. Or the next day perhaps, actually, Bucky wanted to be with you every single day.

You were so kind and bubbly, you offered so much light to his darkness. He loved how your hopeful attitude rubbed off on him, he badly needed it. And he loved how you made him feel...himself. He was just Bucky Barnes, a guy navigating through the modern times and finding his place in this world. And it would seem like an easy task with you by his side.

“Well, I guess this is it.” You said. “Thanks again, Bucky. I really did enjoy.”

Bucky was surprised when you stepped closer to him for a hug. Feeling your arms wrap around his waist and your hair brush against his chin gave him the boost of confidence he needed to finally check off the last on his date itinerary.

By the time he convinced himself to do it, you already stepped back and bid Bucky good night.

Bucky proved to himself the other night that he still has his charm from back then. And tonight, he was going to prove that his charm was going to sweep you off of your feet.

“Wait, one last thing.” Bucky said, reaching out for your wrist.

He tugged you forward making you squeal, and then wrapped his metal arm around your waist before swooping you down for a kiss.

Bucky wasn’t sure how you would react to his kiss but he could no longer hold himself back. It could either make or break his friendship with you, but Bucky just had to. And it wasn’t just to prove something to himself, he’d been wanting to kiss you all throughout the day. He would have already, at the diner, if only the waitress didn’t interrupt his little moment with you.

He almost panicked when your lips remained still, but it all went away when he felt your hands wrap around his shoulders before finally kissing him back. Bucky’s lips curled into a smile against yours as he slowly straightened, bringing you back up before pulling away.

You panted against his lips, your hands sliding down to rest on Bucky’s chest as his landed on your hips.

“Was that...was that a part of your list?” You breathlessly asked.

“Yes. Almost went for it at the diner but I guess the universe wanted for me to stick to the schedule.” He grinned.

You threw your head back in laughter, “So that’s what you meant by that!”

Bucky laughed in agreement and held your face in his metal hand, noticing how you weren’t thrown off. Instead, you turned your face to even press a kiss on his palm.

“Was I too fast? Kissing you on the first date?” He asked, caressing your face.

You shook your head, “You did wait until the end of the date to do so, I guess your timing was just right.”

“And...how was it?” Bucky meekly asked, almost afraid that he might have sucked given that this was his first kiss in decades.

Smiling, you leaned in again to give him a quick peck on the lips. A reassurance, something to melt Bucky’s worries away.

“What can I say? James Bucky Barnes, you are one charming man.”

Now, Bucky was a hundred percent sure that he still has it in him. And he made a mental note to boast to Yori how his first date with you went.

-

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[bloody-bee-tea]

Raise

Ever since he and Nie Mingjue broke up, Jiang Cheng has only been going through the motions. He’s still fulfilling his duties as a Sect Leader—his pride in his Sect won’t allow him to do anything else—but that’s about it.

There’s nothing in life to take enjoyment from anymore and Jiang Cheng feels a lot like he did right after the war, except with less existential dread. But he’s lost and unmoored and he doesn’t know what to do.

He hates it a little bit that Nie Mingjue still has this kind of power over him, but mostly he’s just fucking devastated.

Now he understands his sister and her tears and her sad smiles a bit better.

Getting your heart broken really is the worse and Jiang Cheng guesses it doesn’t help that at least he knows that Nie Mingjue felt the same for him.

Jin Zixuan was a complete asshole to his sister, which must have made it a little bit easier Jiang Cheng hopes, because he wishes this for no one.

When he realizes that he lost himself yet again in his own head, he scoffs. It’s been happening a lot lately, and usually all of his thoughts turn to Nie Mingjue but he can’t afford to slack off.

No matter what his second in command keeps telling him on a daily basis.

If Jiang Cheng would take a day for himself, he wouldn’t do anything but wallow in his misery anyway, and he prefers working over doing that.

So he goes on, and on, one letter after the other, until he made a considerable dent into the stack that built itself up during his last weeks with Nie Mingjue.

Jiang Cheng grinds his teeth together when he realizes that he’s yet again thinking about the other man and he slams his hand on the table in his rage.

He really wonders just how long this will go on; how long he will be haunted by the thought of Nie Mingjue. Right now, he hears Nie Mingjue’s laugh echo in the hallways they frequently walked together, he feels Nie Mingjue’s phantom touch on his shoulder whenever he sits hunched over some work for too long, and he still feels all the love Nie Mingjue had for him.

But duty comes first, Jiang Cheng understands that. He doesn’t have to like it, but he understands.

“You can’t just—no, wait,” Jiang Cheng suddenly hears from outside and he lifts his head a second before someone barges into his study.

“You fucking asshole,” is what Nie Huaisang greets him with and Jiang Cheng knew that the break-up would throw a little bit of a wrench into their friendship, but he didn’t expect this.

“Huaisang,” he still greets his old friend, but he figures he shouldn’t have when Nie Huaisang glares at him, clearly too agitated to even get his fan out.

“Do not even dare,” Nie Huaisang hisses. “You absolute fucking asshole. You said you would love him!”

“I do,” Jiang Cheng says with a sigh, getting up to close the door behind Nie Huaisang, hoping that not all of Lotus Pier heard him yet.

“Yeah, I can tell,” Nie Huaisang sarcastically gives back. “It’s so very evident in the way you broke up with him.”

“Don’t be unfair,” Jiang Cheng whispers, but he can’t meet Nie Huaisang’s eyes.

It still hurts too much.

“Unfair. Unfair! The only one being unfair here is you!”

“Huaisang,” Jiang Cheng snaps, now slowly getting angry himself.

He can understand the protective instinct of a sibling, but this is really going to far. It’s not Jiang Cheng’s fault, and he didn’t actually want to break up with Nie Mingjue, but since it was what Nie Mingjue had wanted, he had done it.

And it seemed unfair to be attacked over this now.

“No. I’m going to ruin you,” Nie Huaisang lowly says and while usually Jiang Cheng wouldn’t give much thought to a threat like this, he knows that if Nie Huaisang really wants to, he will.

Going by the glare Jiang Cheng gets, Nie Huaisang really wants to.

“Why? It’s not my fault,” Jiang Cheng snaps at him and Nie Huaisang laughs right in his face.

“Right, not your fault. Of course not. How could it be? You’re just the guy who broke up with my brother.”

“Because he wanted to!” Jiang Cheng shouts at him, his heart still hurting so damn much and that at least is enough to shut Nie Huaisang up for a few seconds.

“He wanted to,” Nie Huaisang lowly repeats. “That’s what you’re going with? Really?”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Jiang Cheng asks, suddenly drained of all energy and he goes to sit back down at the table.

He doesn’t want to fight with Nie Huaisang and he doesn’t want to do it while standing up, and all he really wants to do is go crawl into bed with Nie Mingjue and curl up against his chest, but it’s not like he’ll ever be able to do that again.

“My brother finally opens up to you about the qi deviations and your first instinct is to run away and break up with him? And now you’re trying to twist it like it was actually his idea? You’re really something else, Jiang-zongzhu. I thought better of you.”

“That’s not what happened, Huaisang,” Jiang Cheng says with a small frown, because Jiang Cheng remembers that conversation a lot differently, and he was actually present.

“Then enlighten me,” Nie Huaisang hisses. “What did happen?”

Jiang Cheng desperately doesn’t want to speak about it—the pain still too near and fresh—but Nie Huaisang is levelling him with a look that promises pain and absolute ruin if Jiang Cheng doesn’t start speaking like five seconds ago and so he sighs.

“He told me about the qi deviations,” Jiang Cheng says, because so far they are on the same page. “That he’ll die soon and young and violently.”

“And you left him for it,” Nie Huaisang says with a nod, as if there could be no doubt about it.

“I love him. Do you really think that low of me?” Jiang Cheng asks, a new kind of hurt finding its place in his chest.

Jiang Cheng thought he was long over being hurt by people being disappointed in him, but it seems like he was wrong.

“Seeing as he is back home, absolutely devastated and you’re going on like nothing happened, I think the only possible answer can be yes,” Nie Huaisang sneers at him and Jiang Cheng sees red.

“I have to do this,” Jiang Cheng yells and shoots up. “I have to because if I don’t keep busy, if I don’t distract myself, I’ll be a fucking shell. I want to do nothing more than to crawl into bed and cry for a good week but what good is that going to do me? It’s not going to get me Mingjue back and my Sect actually still needs me. I was miserable all through the war and for a good while after and I don’t want to feel like that again. And besides; he made his choice. What use is there for me to cry after him.”

“He made his choice? The audacity you have! And don’t raise your voice at me like that,” Nie Huaisang gives back, clearly unfazed by Jiang Cheng’s explosion and it cuts all of Jiang Cheng’s strings.

It doesn’t matter what he tells Nie Huaisang, he realizes. He has his mind already made up.

“He told me about the qi deviations and that his Sect must come first,” Jiang Cheng still mutters. “He needs an heir.”

Jiang Cheng barely gets the words out, and he hates himself a little for how his eyes well up almost immediately. It’s been almost a week by now and the words still hurt as much as they did when they left Nie Mingjue’s mouth.

In front of him, Nie Huaisang freezes.

“What?”

“He said he needs to prepare, that he needs someone to take over eventually. It’s not that hard to understand his meaning,” Jiang Cheng whispers.

Nie Mingjue needs an heir. And for that he needs a wife. It’s as easy as that.

“Did he say it like that?” Nie Huaisang asks and Jiang Cheng nods miserably.

“That fucking idiot,” Nie Huaisang mutters and finally sits down himself, slamming his fan on the table. “Listen here, Wanyin,” he says and Jiang Cheng wonders when he switched back to being Wanyin again.

“I’m listening,” Jiang Cheng says because clearly Nie Huaisang is waiting for a response from him.

Though he’s not quite sure he can take any more accusations today.

“My brother is an idiot,” Nie Huaisang solemnly says and Jiang Cheng fights the immediate urge to defend Nie Mingjue.

He’s not sure he still has that right.

“Why?” he asks instead, because it seems like the safer option.

“I am his heir,” Nie Huaisang tells him and Jiang Cheng goes very still. “When father died and da-ge decided to not take a wife, they wrote that down somewhere. I’m to inherit the Sect should anything happen to my brother.”

“He—it didn’t sound like that when we talked,” Jiang Cheng carefully says.

It makes no sense. Nie Mingjue had looked sad as he had said that he needs to prepare. Why would he look sad if he already has an heir.

“There was sadness on his face when he said it,” Jiang Cheng weakly goes on, because he still remembers that look and it cuts him just as much as it did then.

“It was probably regret. Da-ge wanted to give me an intensive few months of Sect Leader training, so that he could hand off the reigns sooner, before his qi deviations get really bad. He resolved himself to not see you during those months, because he said you distract him too much.”

“No, he—” Jiang Cheng starts, putting his head in his hands. “That’s not how that conversation went.”

“Clearly, it’s not,” Nie Huaisang says drily. “But we both know da-ge and we know you. Both of you tend to draw your own conclusions. Da-ge thought he made himself perfectly clear—asking for a few months with nothing but letters for contact—and you thought he was breaking up with you. I can see where you would get that idea from, don’t take me wrong—da-ge is horribly bad at wording things—but it’s not what he wanted. He’s moping and heartbroken at home. I didn’t even get any training yet.”

“You hate training,” Jiang Cheng mutters, his head spinning.

“I like logistics and getting people to do what I want,” Nie Huaisang corrects. “And I would like my brother to be happy again,” he tacks on, with a raised eyebrow.

Jiang Cheng swallows.

“He doesn’t want to take a wife?” he asks, just to make sure. “He doesn’t want to sire an heir?”

“He does want to adopt a kid with the guy he had been courting for a while,” Nie Huaisang says, absolutely nonchalant as if it’s not blowing Jiang Cheng’s mind to hear that Nie Mingjue thought about a little family of their own.

“Really?” Jiang Cheng asks, his voice full of hope and his heart hammering away in his chest.

“Really,” Nie Huaisang assures him, finally picking up his fan and flicking it open with the by now so familiar gesture.

“I think I have to cut your visit here short, then,” Jiang Cheng says, already scrambling to his feet.

“You go on ahead,” Nie Huaisang waves him off, draping himself over the table. “The flight here was way too exhausting for me.”

“Sure,” Jiang Cheng says, rolling his eyes, but not actually bothering to convince Nie Huaisang.

If he flies alone he can push himself as much as he wants, and then he gets to see Nie Mingjue sooner.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng doesn’t bother to announce his arrival and Nie Mingjue’s disciples clearly don’t deem it necessary to do it, either, it seems, because Jiang Cheng simply barges into Nie Mingjue’s quarters without anyone telling him.

“What are you doing here?” Nie Mingjue asks him, his voice rough and Jiang Cheng sees the dark circles under his eyes and how pale he is.

It seems they both didn’t deal well with the temporary break-up.

“Huaisang invaded Lotus Pier,” Jiang Cheng tells him and Nie Mingjue immediately draws himself up.

“Whatever he said, don’t listen to him. I respect your choice,” Nie Mingjue reassures him and Jiang Cheng wants to go to him and hug him and kiss him, but for now he simply rolls his eyes.

“He said there was a misunderstanding.”

“A what?”

“You said you need someone to take over the Sect. You never mentioned Huaisang. I thought you meant you want to take a wife,” Jiang Cheng explains in as little words as possible, because he is dying with the urge to finally get his hands on Nie Mingjue again.

“A wife,” Nie Mingjue repeats and blinks. “If anything she would be the second wife, because I intent to marry you.”

Jiang Cheng flushes bright red at that, but his heart is dancing in his chest. With happiness, for a change.

“Yeah, I should hope so,” Jiang Cheng says and dares to step closer. “But I understand duty to your Sect and so when you said it like that—”

“You thought I would ask you to step back so I can focus on my Sect. You would have allowed me to take a wife?” Nie Mingjue asks and Jiang Cheng shrugs.

“Duty comes first,” he says because if he learned anything in his youth then it’s that. “I understand that. I didn’t like it, but it sounded sensible to me.”

“Nothing about that is sensible, I love you, what the hell would I ever do without you?”

Find someone else to love, Jiang Cheng wants to say, but Nie Mingjue doesn’t let him, because with two big steps he’s right in front of him and he doesn’t hesitate to crush Jiang Cheng to his chest.

“What would I even do without my heart?” he whispers again and Jiang Cheng’s resolve is broken.

He slings his arms around Nie Mingjue and presses himself as close as he can get, his breath leaving him in shuddering bursts.

“I didn’t like it,” Jiang Cheng chokes out. “I missed you so much. I love you.”

“Never think something like this again,” Nie Mingjue begs him. “I would never do that to you, not for any duty in the world.”

“Okay,” Jiang Cheng weakly says and Nie Mingjue presses a kiss to his head.

“Not for any duty,” he repeats and Jiang Cheng nods.

“Okay, alright,” he gets out, his voice choked up with tears.

For once they are tears of happiness because he’s finally back where he belongs.

Link to my ko-fi

[meruz]

once again i am answering asks in a big compilation post. included is... gotham, patrick stump, tips about drawing backgrounds, tips about drawing in general, links to my faq, and infinity train

like.... the tv series? No... I’ve drawn dc comics fanart before, though. But it’s been years since I’ve been really into it. I like jumped ship like 10 years ago when the New 52 happened LOL.

AFJHDSLKGH I’m sorry I (probably) won’t do it again??

Actually full disclosure I have a truly cringe amount of p stump drawings/photo studies in my sketchbook right now LOL. He’s just fun to draw... hats, glasses, guitar, a good shape... but I don’t think I’ll rly post those until I can hide them in another big sketchbook pdf.. probably Jan 2022. Stay tuned........ (ominous) 

(ominous preview)

These are all sort of related to backgrounds/painting so I grouped them together even though they’re pretty much entirely separate questions.... ANYWAYS

a) How is it working as a BG artist? Is it hard? What show are you drawing for?

I think you’re the first person to ever ask me about my job! Being a background artist is great. It’s definitely labor intensive but I think that could describe pretty much any art job (If something were rote or easy to automate, you wouldn’t hire an artist to do it) and I hesitate to say whether its harder or easier than any other role in the animation pipeline. Plus, so much of what truly makes a job difficult varies from one production to the next, schedule, working environment, co-workers etc. But I will say that I think while BGs are generally a lot of work on the upfront, I think they’re subject to less scrutiny/revisions than something like character/props/effects design and you don’t have to pitch them to a room like boards. So I guess it’s good if you don’t like to talk to people? LOL

A lot of my previous projects + the show I’ve worked on the longest aren’t public yet so I can’t talk about em (but I assure you if/when the news does break I won’t shut up about it). But I’m currently working on Archer Season 12 LOL. I’m like 90% sure I’m allowed to say that.

b) ~~~THANK YOU!! ~~~

c) What exactly do you like to draw most [in a background]?

@kaitomiury​ Lots of stuff! I really like to draw clutter! Because it’s a great opportunity for environmental storytelling and also you can be kind of messy with it because the sheer mass will supersede any details LOL. 

I like to draw clouds... I like to draw grass but not trees lol,,, I like to draw anything that sells perspective really easily like tiled floors and ceilings, shelves, lamp posts on a street etc.

d) Do you have any tips on how to paint (observational)?

god there’s so much to say. painting is really a whole ass discipline like someone can paint their whole life and still discover new things about it. I guess if you’re really just starting out my best advice is that habit is more important than product. especially with traditional plein air painting, I find that the procedure of going outside and setting up your paints is almost harder than the actual painting. There’s a lot of artists who say “I want to do plein air sometime!!” and then never actually get around to doing it. A lot of people just end up working from google streetview or photos on their computer.

But going outside to paint is a really good challenge because it forces you to make and commit to lighting and composition decisions really quickly. And to work through your mistakes instead of against them via undo button.

My last tip is to check out James Gurney’s youtube channel because hes probably the best and most consistent resource on observational painting out there rn. There’s lots other artists doing the same thing (off the top of my head I know a lot of the Warrior Painters group has people regularly posting plein air stuff and lightbox expo had a Jesse Schmidt lecture abt it last year) but Gurney’s probably the most prolific poster and one of the best at explaining the more technical stuff - his books are great too.

e) Do you have tips for drawing cleanly on heavypaint?

@marigoldfool​ UMM LOL I LIKE ONLY USE THE FILL TOOL so maybe use the fill tool? Fill and rectangle are good for edge control as opposed to the rest of the heavy paint tools which can get sort of muddles. And also I use a stylus so maybe if you’re using your finger, find a stylus that works with your device instead. That’s all I’ve got, frankly I don’t think my drawings are particularly clean lol.

f) Tips on improving backgrounds/scenes making them more dynamic practicing etc?

Ive given some tips about backgrounds/scenes before so I’m not gonna re-tread those but here’s another thing that might be helpful...

I think a good way to approach backgrounds is to think of the specific story or even mood you want to convey with the background first. Thinking “I just need to put something behind this character” is going to lead you to drawing like... a green screen tourist photo backdrop. But if you think “I need this bg to make the characters feel small” or “I need this bg to make the world feel colorful” then it gives you requirements and cues to work off of.

If I know a character needs to feel overwhelmed and small, then I know I need to create environment elements that will cage them in and corner them. If a character needs to feel triumphant/on top of the world then I know I need to let the environment open up around them. etc. If I know my focal point/ where I want to draw attention, I can build the background around that.

Also, backgrounds like figure compositions will have focal points of their own and you can draw attention to it/ the relationship the characters have with the bg element via scale or directionality or color, any number of cues. I think of it almost as a second/third character in a scene.

Not every composition is gonna have something so obvious like this but it helps me to think about these because then the characters feel connected and integrated with the environment.

Some more general art questions

a) Do you have any process/tips to start drawing character/bodies/heads?

I tried to kind of draw something to answer this but honestly this is difficult for me to answer because I don’t think I’m that great at drawing characters LOL. Ok, I think I have two tips.

1) flip your canvas often. A lot about what makes human bodies look correct and believable is symmetry and balance. Even if someone has asymmetrical features, the body will often pull and push in a way to counterbalance it. we often have inherent biases to one side or another like dominant hands dominant eyes etc. you know how right-handed artists will often favor drawing characters facing 45 degrees facing (the artist’s) left? that’s part of it. so viewing your drawing flipped even just to evaluate it helps compensate for that bias and makes you more aware of balance.

2) draw the whole figure often. I feel like a lot of beginner artists (myself included for a long time) defer to just drawing headshots or busts because it’s easier, you dont have to think about posing limbs etc. But drawing a full body allows you to better gauge proportion, perspective, body language, everything that makes a character look believable and grounded.

Like if you (me) have that issue where you draw the head too big and then have to resize it to fit the proportions of the rest of the body, it’s probably because you (I) drew the head first and are treating the body as an afterthought/attachment. Sketching out the whole figure first or even just quick drawing guides for it will help you think of it more holistically. I learned this figure drawing in charcoal at art school LOL.

oh. third mini tip - try to draw people from life often! its the best study. if you can get into a figure drawing/nude drawing class EVEN BETTER and if you have a local college/art space/museum that hosts those for free TREASURE IT AND TAKE ADVANTAGE OF IT, that’s a huge boon that a lot of artists (me again) wish they had. though if youre not so lucky and youre sitting in a park trying to creeper draw people and they keep moving.. don’t let that stop you! that’s good practice because it’s forcing you to work fast to get the important stuff down LOL. its a challenge!

b) I’ve been pretty out of energy and have had no inspiration to draw but I have the desire to. Any advice?

Dude, take a walk or something.... Or a nap? Low energy is going to effect everything else so you gotta hit that problem at its source.

If you’re looking for inspiration though, I’d recommend stuff like watching a movie, reading a book, playing video games etc. Fill up your idea bank with content and then give yourself time/space to gestate it into new concepts. Sometimes looking at other art works but sometimes it can work against you because it’s too close. 

Also something that helps me is remembering that art doesn’t always have to be groundbreaking... like it’s okay to make something shitty and stupid that you don’t post online and only show to your friend. That’s all part of the process imo. If you want to hit a home run you gotta warm up first, right? Sports.

I should probably compile everytime i give tips on stuff like this but that’s getting dangerously close to being a social media artist who makes stupid boiled down art tutorials for clout which is the last thing i want to be... the thing I want to stress is that art is a whole visual language and there are widely agreed upon rules and customs but they exist in large part to be broken. Like there's an infinite number of ways to reach an infinite number of solutions and that’s actually what makes it really cool and personal for both the artist and the viewer. So when you make work you like or you find someone else’s work you like, take a step back and ask yourself what about it speaks for you, what about it works for you, what makes it effective, how to recreate that effect and how to break that effect completely, etc. And have a good time with it or else what’s the point.

for the first 2, I direct you to my FAQ

For the last one, I don’t actually believe I’ve ever addressed artwork as insp for stories/rp but I’ll say here and now yeah go ahead! As long as you’re not making profit or taking credit for my work then I’m normally ok with it. Especially anything thats private and purely recreational, that’s generally 100% green light go. I only ask that if you post it anywhere public that you please credit me.

(and I reserve the right to ask you to take it down if I see it and don’t approve of it’s use but I think that case is pretty rare.)

a) @lemuelzero101 Thank you!!! I haven’t played Life is Strange but actually  that series’ vis dev artist Edouard Caplain is one of my bigger art inspirations lately so that’s a really high compliment lol. And yeah I hope we get 5-8 too...!

b) Thank you for sticking around! I’ve been thinking about Digimon and Infinity Train in tandem lately, actually. They’re a little similar? Enter a dangerous alternate world and have wacky adventures with monsters/inanimate objects that have weird powers... there’s like weird engineers and mechanisms behind the scenes... also frontier literally starts with them getting on a train. Anyways if anyone else followed me for digimon... maybe you’d like Infinity Train? LOL

c) @king-wens-king I’M GLAD MY ART JUST HAS PINOY VIBES LOL I hope you are having a good day too :^)

a, b, c, d) yessss my Watch Infinity Train agenda is working....

e) aw thank you!! i think you should watch infinity train :)

[pot-of-terv]

Goodness I almost didn’t finish this in time, I got a horrible migraine yesterday and today the time got away from me because I spent the day with a friend... But here it is!! I wanted to draw more but the writing took longer than I thought and now it’s so late that I should’ve been in bed over an hour ago :_D 

THEY FINALLY TALK... a little. But it’s a good beginning.

PuzzleJune 2021, Week Three: Dimension (Rules, Impossible)

It's a comfortable silence. Atem would be content to just stay there, feeling warm and loved, lodged between Yuugi's arms. Perhaps he could even doze off.

But he knows what he said, and he knows Yuugi is now waiting for them to talk. Their mental link through the Puzzle might be gone but maybe there's some kind of a residual connection left, because the feeling of expectation in the air is almost palpable.

"We're both going to get cricks in our backs if we don't move soon," Yuugi interrupts his thoughts. He sounds sleepy and some part of that guilt Atem felt before raises its ugly head.

"I– yeah," Atem mumbles and with obvious reluctance, lets go of Yuugi's waist and sits up. Something must show on his face because Yuugi peers at him curiously.

“I’m sorry for waking you, aibou,” he sighs and offers an apologetic smile. “I know you would’ve liked to sleep longer.”

Yuugi lets out a startled laugh and shakes his head.

“Uh-huh, but you’re way more important than that. You should know that, right?”

Atem is taken aback by the blatant sincerity of those words. It tends to happen a lot around Yuugi, and he’s not sure if he’s ever going to get used to it. On some level though... It feels nice. He chuckles and smiles at Yuugi, this time honestly.

“I guess I should.” He pauses. “Thank you, Yuugi.”

This time it’s his partner’s turn to look surprised. A slight blush climbs onto his cheeks which Atem notes, amused. Even now it’s not exactly a regular occurrence for him to call Yuugi by his name (it feels odd on his tongue – it’s hard to shake the memories of being called with that same name) and he resorts to ‘partner’ more often than not but he has been trying. He has his name now – no reason for him to withhold Yuugi’s own from him.

“I-it’s fine, other me,” Yuugi says and looks away, breaking their eye contact. He looks happy, though, so Atem doesn’t worry about it too much. What he does worry about is the conversation they’re about to have.

He stretches, probably more theatrically than necessary, then shuffles backwards on the bed to lean his back against the wall and snags Yuugi’s pillow to hold under his arms. He feels awkward and clumsy despite his mind having cleared up and he feels that he needs the extra comfort. Yuugi pulls his legs onto the bed and leans against the headrest.

They fall into another silence, yet this is a pondering one. Still not awkward, still not bad – Atem is pretty sure they’re not even able to have awkward silences. It’s a comforting thought and he hugs the pillow in his lap closer to his chest to cover his inappropriately goofy smile.

“We really don’t do this, huh,” Yuugi snickers after a while, breaking the stillness that had fallen over the room like a blanket.

Atem tilts his head on the side to look at him, leaning his cheek on the pillow.

“We really, really don’t,” he answers with an easy grin. Yuugi smiles back and there’s such fondness in his eyes that Atem could very well just drown in those purple depths. He sobers quickly though and his grin falters before vanishing, leaving his mouth in a tight line. He looks into Yuugi’s eyes with a new sharpness and the other boy mirrors his expression as if it’s his second nature (it probably is, considering). This is it.

“I’m so sorry for everything I put you through,” the pharaoh blurts out before he can overthink it. Yuugi looks almost shocked so he barrels on, “I know how greatly you suffered during those weeks leading up to the ceremonial duel. Those feelings were never a secret from me and I’m so, so sorry for not making it right… before it was already too late.”

There’s the familiar feeling of a lump in his throat and he fights to keep his eyes locked into Yuugi’s. He deserves honesty and Atem can’t allow himself to turn away. A shadow casts over Yuugi’s face and he's silent for a moment before speaking.

“I kind of knew. That you knew. I’m not too sure how it made me feel, though,” he says quietly. “Not very good at least, if I’m honest.”

Atem nods. He had presumed as much.

“I thought… I thought you just really wanted to leave. And I couldn’t blame you for it, I mean… you were dead, and the dead deserve their rest. And on top of it, that’s your family and friends you would’ve gotten to see in the Afterlife. Of course, it still hurt me,” Yuugi smiles sadly and lifts his knees to tuck his chin against them. “But I can’t blame you for that.”

“Why not?” Atem asks sharply and sits up straight. He squeezes the pillow against his stomach. “You have every right.”

All of a sudden Yuugi looks a little exasperated and he runs a hand through his hair, breaking their eye contact.

“Because… I don’t work that way?” he offers with a wince.

“Nah, you do,” Atem counters slyly. “You just don’t want to make me feel bad.”

Yuugi’s eyes snap back to his and the answer is written clear as day on his face.

“Well, that’s–! That’s!” he struggles to find the words before he just sighs and his shoulders slump. “Yeah. Okay. I want to blame you for it! But I can’t!”

Atem’s eyebrows rise toward his hairline as he stares at Yuugi in surprise. He opens his mouth to say something but Yuugi is faster.

“I love you too much to be able to.” His cheeks flush crimson and he slaps his hands over his face. “Don’t look at me,” he mutters, “I know that goes without saying but you just had to make me say it!”

Atem is completely speechless. Every direction he thought that this conversation could take them, this one was not what he had expected. Talk about dimensions, he thinks, perhaps a little dazed. Of course, it’s– it’s a given that they love each other–

“No,” Atem interrupts his own thoughts and throwing the pillow to the side, he crawls to Yuugi and kneels next to him. He takes a gentle hold of Yuugi’s right wrist but doesn’t pry the hand away from his face.

“It shouldn’t go without saying. Because we went with things without saying anything, you – and I – got hurt. And that should never happen again.” He takes a deep breath and feels himself smile.

“I love you, Yuugi, and that’s why I thought I had to leave. I thought you’d be happier. I couldn’t let myself be the reason you never got to live your life to the fullest, because if I stayed with you as we were, that’s what would have happened. I thought I knew the rules up until the last second.

“Turns out, I didn’t. I had another choice, a third one… I would have been a fool not to take it because that’s what I had always wanted in the deep recesses of my heart. You remember, right?” He tugs softly on Yuugi’s wrist to try to get him to look at him. “That night you asked me who I was. I told you I wanted to stay with you forever. Those feelings never changed.”

Yuugi lets his hands fall from his face but his eyes are closed tight. There are tears there, forming in the corners, and Atem wants to kiss them away. He doesn’t.

“I–,” Yuugi chokes on his words at first but keeps going, “I remember. I always remembered, but… I guess I stopped believing in it along the way. I didn’t want to hold you back, either. I never wanted to lose you but if it meant that you’d be happy, I’d do anything.”

He finally looks at Atem, eyes wet and shimmering, and laughs, voice thick with emotion.

“We’re such dummies.”

Atem holds out his hand and brushes a single tear off Yuugi’s cheek as it falls, his chest tight and heart fluttering somewhere in between his throat and ribcage. He almost doesn’t dare to talk in fear of his voice breaking... but what would that matter? They’re already laying out their hearts in front of each other, revealing the feelings that they had tried to keep private for reasons that don’t make much sense anymore – if they ever did.

“We are,” the pharaoh smiles and if his lip wobbles then be it. “Aibou… can you promise not to do anything like that anymore, to not… to not keep your feelings concealed for my sake?”

Yuugi takes his hand and squeezes. It makes warmth bloom in Atem’s chest.

“Only if you promise me the same.”

They just look at each other then, searching the other’s eyes. Would they be able to keep such a promise? After all those months of keeping things locked away, of always thinking about what they thought was the best for the other, of never talking things through? They both know it has to change, so… why not start now? They’re finally on the same page and moving forward, they need to keep it that way. Never rushing ahead or falling behind.

Simultaneously they both break into wide smiles and as Atem reaches for Yuugi’s other hand, they speak.

“I promise,” they say at the same time and it surprises neither. They laugh together, free and unburdened, and Atem leans forward to press his forehead against Yuugi’s. Yuugi meets him halfway and seeing the happiness in his eyes that close, Atem feels the prickle of tears in his own. They’re too close to look at each other for long but as they lean away they’re still smiling, still holding hands, tears now on both of their cheeks, and all is right in the world.

Despite everything, they still have each other, and their hearts are lighter. They’re aware that there’s a lot more where that came from but this is a better start than either of them could have hoped for.

They have each other, they have time, and nothing is impossible.

[syllvane]

muscle memory pt. 3- sylvie x reader

a/n: i said i was going to post tomorrow but i couldn’t help myself. anyways, spoilers for episode 2 and 3 of loki, minor spoilers for the beginning of episode 3. final word count is 1.7k words!

read the previous part  read the next part   read the series  

“How is Loki doing?” You asked Mobius, walking with him to the mess hall.

“He’s doing great. Making real progress, I would say.”

“Didn’t you have to have a meeting with Renslayer this morning because of his actions?” You asked, raising your eyebrows. His face scrunched up for a second.

“It’s like every time he is making progress, he takes two steps back.”

“That sounds more believable. You still think he’s worth all the trouble though?”

Mobius sighed slightly. “I really do believe in him. It’s not just an issue of whether I believe in him though, it’s whether Ravonna and the Timekeepers do.”

“Oh, you’re on first name basis now, with Renslayer?” You turned and grinned at Mobius, who immediately flushed after realizing his mistake.

“Not a word of this to anyone.” He said strictly, although there was a smile on his face as well.

“Yeah, yeah.” You said, standing in line with Mobius as he ordered his lunch before sitting down at a two-seat table. “Ravonna and Mobius-”

“C-7.” Mobius said strictly, although you could tell he was partly amused by your antics.

You continued in the same quiet, sing-songy voice as before.

“-on a jet ski. K-I-S-S-I-N-G.”

Mobius finished taking a sip of his drink and then applauded quietly, so as to not draw attention.

“Has anyone ever told you that you truly have all the originality of a grade-schooler?”

Before you could answer, you were interrupted by a tall man with long dark hair speed walking over to where Mobius and you were sitting.

Although he seemed to be in a hurry, you could tell that he was sizing up everybody in the room, including yourself.

“I found- oh, sorry. Didn’t see you there. Would you mind moving so that me and my partner could discuss something?” He asked politely, even smiling.

You locked eyes with him, smiling back at him.

“I’m good, thanks. You can just pull up a chair.”

His smile wavered and he maintained eye contact for a couple of moments longer before breaking it, going to a different table and pulling over a chair.

(You ignored the pointed look Mobius shot at you, like he was asking you to be the bigger person here. Unfortunately for him, you had no such intentions.)

“Right. I know how the Variant is hiding.”

Mobius leaned back.

“Talk about burying the lead. How?”

Loki smiled slightly, this smile much different from his last- he was proud of himself.

“He’s hiding in apocalypses.” 

There was a moment of silence. You and Mobius exchanged a glance.

“Which one? There’s like a million all across history.” Mobius pointed out and Loki took a second to compose himself before starting his explanation.

You sat back as he explained his reasoning, watching with amusement as he put more salt and pepper into Mobius’ salad, handing him your own drink when he realized that Mobius’ drink was empty.

He gave you a nod of recognition and Mobius sent you another, even more exasperated glance as Loki poured your drink into the salad (although, in your opinion, seeing Loki grin like that made it worth it).

                                                             —— “How was Pompeii?” You asked, not even having to look up from the apocalypse case files to figure out that it was Loki who was approaching you.

He stopped for a minute, almost taken aback by your observation, before continuing and taking a seat in front of you.

“I was right, naturally.”

You scoffed slightly.

“Naturally.”

You looked up at him to find that his piercing eyes were already looking at you, almost curiously.

“You’re already sorting through the apocalypse files.”

“Naturally occurring disasters with no survivors, cross-referenced with the candy that Mobius picked up. You were confident that you were right so I figured I should start looking.”

Loki raised his eyebrows and smiled slightly.

“You’re smarter than you look. Could’ve saved me and Mobius some time.” 

“He forgot to cross-reference?”

He nodded, hesitating for a moment before he grabbed some of the files that you hadn’t started looking over yet.

You looked at him appreciatively, though he wasn’t looking at you anymore. 

The two of you sat there, looking at the case files in a comfortable silence for a couple of minutes before Mobius walked into your office as well.

“What’s this?” Mobius asked, taking a cursory glance at the file on top.

“Kablooie.” You said simply and Mobius sighed slightly, frustrated that he hadn’t thought of it.

He grabbed a couple of files as well, standing up as he started reading.

“I think I have something,” Loki said a couple of minutes later, splaying the case out on your desk so that everyone could see. “Class ten apocalypse. Alabama, 2050.”

You looked it over and even just with a cursory glance, you could tell that this is where the Variant was hiding- you looked over at Mobius and saw pride on his face.

“You’re gonna take my job if I’m not careful.”

“Now to pitch it to Renslayer.” You said and Mobius nodded, already halfway out of your office. He closed the door behind him and you looked at Loki. “I don’t think I’ve seen him this excited in a while. In fact, the last time I saw him this excited, I think we saw a jet ski on a mission.”

Loki smiled to himself, though the expression disappeared when he looked back at you.

“And what about you?”

“Hm?” You tilted your head slightly, caught off-guard by the question.

“What excites you?” 

You held his gaze for a couple of moments, feeling uncomfortable with how he looked at you, as if he knew something about you that you didn’t know about yourself. 

You finally looked away, standing up.

“We should go meet Mobius. We’ll be heading out as soon as he gets the approval.”

“You say this like it’s a sure thing.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Renslayer say no to him. Come on.”

                                                          ——

The rain sounded a hundred times louder when you were listening to it hit the roof of the Roxxcart, so loud that you could barely hear the sound of your own voice above the noise.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, positioning your reset baton defensively. The man standing by the plants seemed to hesitate slightly, although he was still much too calm for this kind of weather.

“Hurricane sale. Azaleas are half-off.”

“Could that be you?” You asked Loki, your eyes never leaving the man. Although his eyes continued to look between you and Loki, his gaze lingered on you longer.

“I… mean… I would’ve worn a suit, but it could be.”

You took a couple steps towards the man and he backed up, looking at you pleadingly.

“I don’t want to do this.” He said quietly and you tilted your head slightly, confused.

You took another step towards him.

“What-”

He grabbed your arm and a warm feeling came over your body.

A woman’s voice in your head lulled you to sleep, promising to bring you home and then everything went dark.

…

“Sylv, why are you acting so weird?” You asked, taking another sip of wine.

The blonde woman across from you smiled, although you could tell that she was forcing it for your sake.

“Another one of my suitors came and visited me today.” She said. You made a face and she laughed slightly.

“Complete fools, every one of them.”

“Fools for being deeply in love with me?” She asked, raising an eyebrow, almost as if she was allowing herself to play the part for a couple of brief moments.

“No, I’m above self-flagellation. They’re fools for thinking that they could ever win your heart.”

She laughed.

“And why is that?”

You leaned back in your chair.

“I have it on very good account that someone already has it.” You said and Sylvie‘s smile faded and her gaze didn’t quite meet yours, almost as if her mind was preoccupied elsewhere.

She looked back at you, her look apologetic.

The scene around you grew distorted, nothing quite clear anymore.

“I’m sorry.”

Her words repeated everywhere around you like you were in an echo chamber rather than…

Rather than…

Where were you?

The blonde woman that had been there a moment ago disappeared and with her, everything else.

…

When you came to, Mobius was kneeling beside you, waiting for you to wake up.

“C-7… are you okay?” He asked slowly, looking at you with more concern than you think anyone else ever has.

You propped yourself up and you looked around wildly for Loki or for the blonde woman- Sylvie- who had been in your head.

“Where are they?” You asked and you hated how desperate your voice sounded.

“They escaped. Take it easy, the Variant did a number on-”

“Mobius, I have to find her.” You said, trying to stand up only to be overwhelmed with nausea and dizziness.

Mobius supported you, keeping you from falling back onto the ground.

“I know. And we will, but we have more pressing issues right now. Come on.”

You didn’t protest, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to convince Mobius even if you promised to get him a jet ski afterwards.

What you had to do now, you would do alone.

He helped you through the portal back to the TVA and the rest of your team followed, all of them being immediately assigned to different Nexus events that were happening simultaneously.

You, being injured, were given the pass to stay back at the TVA. 

You wondered if the Timekeepers knew what you were about to do, if they could’ve predicted it- after all, they were the ones who had made you, right?

You headed to the sector of the TVA where they issued TemPads, looking at the data of where all the TemPads were jumping to and from when you stumbled upon something odd- there was a TemPad that only had one jump registered in its entire history.

TVA to Lamentis-1, 2077.

Huh.

The Variant- Sylvie- whatever her name was, must’ve found out a way to stop the TemPad from feeding data into the system, but it must’ve reset when she jumped to the TVA.

You grabbed one of the TemPad’s that were out of commission for charging, unplugging it. 

It was low on battery, but it would have to do.

You opened a portal for yourself using the exact same coordinates and time that they had put in and without any hesitation, you walked through.

[uservillanelle]

Killing Eve ― 4x01 (Review)

“It’s been two years since S3 and my last review. At first I wasn’t sure whether I would continue writing these, but since it’s the last season I thought ― why not? Then again, I’m mostly writing these for myself and adding all of my chaotic thoughts in one place, so if any of you feel like reading these, enjoy!

The Opening Sequence

I think almost everyone thought that the person on the bike was Villanelle, I probably would’ve too, if I didn’t get spoiled in stan twitter lol. The whole riding the bike scene is such a nice parallel to Villanelle’s scene in the pilot episode. That only reminds me how many moments like these exist in the show. The question here is: how many of them are intentional? I’ll go ahead and say that this one was. I wouldn’t be surprised if they used the same bike for both scenes since it looks pretty much identical lol. 

If you really pay attention it’s easy to spot the differences in Eve’s body language as soon as she gets off the bike. The fact that she pulled out her pistol, which was not necessary(?), and started pointing it towards everyone she saw in that building shows the level of recklessness and boldness she acquired during these past few months. And yeah, let me quote 1x07 Eve by adding: “the way she walks”, because there is a completely different flair to it.

Eve & Konstantin

“You’re head of town” really now? Didn’t Konstantin plan to go to Cuba for like second half of S3? As much as we knew at the time, was that he was in huge trouble with the twelve for stealing money, Carolyn almost killed him and let’s just say it was perfect time for him to lay low somewhere. So him becoming a mayor of some Russian town/city paints a whole different picture. 

Seeing Konstantin’s reaction to someone coming to kill him still sends me lmao. Him rolling his eyes and heavy sigh says it all. He isn’t one bit surprised. However, what does surprise him, and most of us, is that it’s Eve. The problem with the premiere episodes? Is the fact that a bunch of BTS photos were leaked during filming and most of us saw Konstantin with his bandaged hand and the trailer basically revealed that it’s Eve who shot him, so I kind of was waiting for that to happen. 

Eve was pretty pissed of the last we saw her, and rightfully so, since Konstantin indirectly got Kenny killed and yet Carolyn allowed him to escape. So this time Eve made sure to take her revenge by shooting him. In the hand. *inserts Eve’s weak threat to shoot Konstantin in the leg from 1x08*

It’s interesting how Konstantin kept insisting he doesn’t know anything about Helene or where she was. Yet he did know about Rhian and the way Villanelle killed her. They are all so shady, I wouldn’t be surprised if Konstantin knew more than he was letting on, but in this case he gave Eve enough to spare his life. For now. 

“You shot me in my hand”; “Oh get over it!” ― if that ain’t peak comedy, I don’t know what is lol. Again, another parallel to Villanelle shooting Konstantin and him bringing it up only to hear Villanelle shout “When will you get over that?” As if it was nothing more than a scratch lmao. 

“She looks French, okay?” ― of course that’s enough of a description for our Hot French MILF™. 

“If you want to find Helene, why not just ask Villanelle?” ― this could only mean that Konstantin still thinks Villanelle works for the twelve, despite her repeatedly telling him last season that she wants out. Makes me wonder if he thinks that the reason she decided not to leave with him is because she wanted to keep working for the twelve? Clearly they have a lot to catch up. Now, Eve coming there to interrogate him was enough for him to draw a conclusion that she and Villanelle are not talking to each other. Which should be more than enough to let us know that something happened between them. In fact, Eve is so determined to avoid Villanelle that she’d rather hunt down Konstantin in RUSSIA, than call/text Villanelle about Helene. Yup, both Villanelle and Eve have each other’s numbers since S1 and neither of them actually used it. *sighs* gays. 

“Whatever this is, you won’t come out of it”; “Thank God” ― so that’s it, then? Eve fully made up her mind that this ‘revenge mission’ will cost her her life? I mean she has lost everyone, except Villanelle, who hasn’t been around for a long time, so in a sense she has nothing to lose. Then again, she did say back in 3x08 that whenever she images her future she sees Villanelle’s face. Perhaps she no longer imagines the future? Because deep down she knows it’s not possible for her? That she’s too far gone? 

Villanelle

♪ You made a believer out of me ♪ ― oh pleease, if that ain’t Villanelle indirectly referring to Eve lmao. I LOVE how everything ties them together, no matter what they are doing. It’s like the universe keeps sending signs left and right that they are soulmates and that they can’t live without one another. 

Right from the get go it’s apparent that Barbara and Vicar aren’t too fond of “Nelle”. Do they really see through Villanelle’s act, since no one can be that perfect? Guess Villanelle is trying too hard to the point where it started feeling unnatural, too good to be true. “I don’t know how you can be so good all the time” ― poor May is still innocent and naive to spot that. For now. “I don’t have any other choice” ― you mean, this is the only way Eve will notice you again, since you’ve changed, Villanelle? This shows just how much her mother and Helene calling her a monster affected her. The point is, Eve never wanted or asked her to change, be better... Eve is the only one who understands her and accepts her as she is, but Villanelle’s past traumas are not allowing her to see it. 

Eve

“Stop what you’re doing before it’s too late” soundtrack by Unloved is one of my favorites ever since I heard it. It’s a shame it hasn’t been released just yet. But I’m impatiently waiting for it. This song stands out because it only plays during Eve’s scenes and it makes the lyrics so much more personal. It’s like the show itself is trying to warn her, to stop it all while she still has the chance, but Eve clearly is not listening, she doesn’t hear what we hear. 

It’s so interesting to see what kind of life, routine Eve has adopted. It’s very similar to her starting point back in S3, except it’s quite the opposite. In S3 she started out miserable and on her own. Her house a mess. Her drinking wine during the evenings and hiding from the world at her work. Now? Now she’s staying at a hotel, working out, taking care of herself and hunting down the twelve in the middle of it. Love that for her. 

Eve & Yusuf

It’s so funny that I had to rewatch the episode a couple of times (and even pause it) to fully pay attention to what these two are talking lol. Apparently both of them just received a warning from their job due to their absence. As soon as Eve got into the truck she was willing to work for “one hour” and then she was going to get back to tracking down Helene. It’s apparent that neither Eve nor Yusuf really care about their actual job (I’m still not sure what that is lmao).

 Thankfully it’s pretty clear that there is nothing romantic between these two, so we shouldn’t worry much about Yusuf. From the looks of it they are more like friends with benefits, or should I say, colleagues with benefits type, and it’s only a matter of time until it’s Yusuf’s turn to go. Sorry not sorry.

I love it when it’s supposed to be a scene with Eve and Yusuf and Villanelle still is present in some way. This time in form of invitation. Eve didn’t even hesitate to tear it into pieces lol. It shows how pissed off she is with Villanelle, but the reason is still unclear. Perhaps even Eve sees Villanelle is putting on a show once more. After all... Nelle is not the one Eve fell for, so naturally she’s not one bit interested in her baptism BS. (it still is heartbreaking to know she has been rejecting her invitations for God knows how long. At least Villanelle is trying her best to create the best show for her.)

Not them putting on sexy music right before they have sex *groans*. At first I didn’t question why or how Eve got “in the mood” for it, but the more I think about it, the more I’m leaning towards the fact that Villanelle sent her an invitation. Or... was it the fact that Eve shot Konstantin in the hand that was a major turn on? Both Villanelle and Eve love power and control so it wouldn’t be a surprise. 

Ohhh the way we all thought that Yusuf is going to try to kill Eve by strangling her in the park.. the fact that they showed that bit in the trailer means that it’s not what it looks like, otherwise they wouldn’t have spoiled it in the first place. Not gonna lie, I’d love to see Eve snap his neck with her thighs... I mean they started it, Eve should’ve put an early end to it lmao.

Carolyn & Hugo

There has been rumors about Hugo possibly coming back but they ended just as quickly as they appeared so I didn’t have high hopes for it to happen, but it did! I’m glad at least a couple of characters from previous seasons are coming back to tie everything together (Good job, Laura!)

Carolyn has been demoted and let’s just say she’s not happy about it. At least she has a job at all. But it’s clear she still has a couple of contacts that are helping her to investigate the twelve (Milos). 

It wouldn’t be Hugo if he didn’t barge in like that bragging about his new position, which was previously Carolyn’s. He did get shot after all and I’m all for him giving Carolyn a hard time, but he has no idea who he’s dealing with. It seems like he underestimates the twelve and just how dangerous they are, thinking he got everything figured out only because he got a leverage over Carolyn. Makes me wonder how did he get those pictures of Paul’s dead body..? Maybe Carolyn had more enemies at work if they were exchanging such information to someone like Hugo. 

Christian Dinner

Villanelle preparing fish and loaves because she wouldn’t know what to make otherwise is so hilarious, but also really adorable of her 😭

Them naming the black cat Lucifer is peak comedy lmao!

Seeing how both, May and Vicar, reacted to Luficer hissing at Villanelle truly shows both of their attitudes towards her. May immediately rose up to take Lucifer away, while Vicar told May to leave it be. At this point it’s clear that Vicar doesn’t want Villanelle around for long since he is bringing up the fact that she’s not going to stay there with them forever.

They are trying to tell me that it’s been 8 or so months and only now Villanelle is about to be baptized..? 

RIP Lucifer

This is probably the first time in this episode so far when Villanelle was by herself. There was no one else around that could watch her. There was no reason for her to pretend. Yet she still chose to pray. Pray for a new life. This time she was genuinely trying and it was even more heartbreaking to witness 😭

NOT Lucifer coming from behind her while she was praying 😭😭😭

We all saw where this was headed... I hate it so much, but a point had to be made, I guess. No matter how good she tried to appear to be, death would still be surrounding her, in one way or another. The only thing that somewhat comforts me is that that kill was accidental... then again, her killing the cat means she killed Lucifer...? Is that intentional? I think so. 

May aka the Fanfic Writer

A couple of peeps have mentioned something about someone writing fanfic in the show and there you have it!

The way May represents the fandom as a whole is INSANE! She writes fanfic of herself and ‘Nelle’, is completely in love with her and once given an opportunity, will tell you all the amazing things about Nelle. 

“Now tell me why you like me so much” ― if this scene ain’t us explaining why we love Villanelle, then I don’t know what is. 

This wasn’t the first time Villanelle had her hair stroked, which also happened back in 2x05 while she was “grieving” for Eve. I guess this is one of the things that brings her comfort. Along with stroking her ego ofc.

“You’re the best person I’ve ever met” ― DO NOT THROW ANOTHER PARALLEL MY WAY LIKE THIS!! Niko literally told Eve she was the best person he knew back in 2x04, which makes May the female version of Niko 😭

Eve & Carolyn

Only seeing them together in the trailer made me roll my eyes since it seemed like they were going the same route again. Carolyn finding Eve and asking her to work for her. Like she did in each previous season. This time Eve saw it coming and refused right away lol. (That is until Carolyn left)

Carolyn clearly had made her homework prior to meeting Eve, since she knows where she works and that she’s still investigating the twelve. Interesting because it was Carolyn herself who told Eve to stop investigating them all together back in 3x08. Now Eve is basically her only lead to find out more about the twelve. How tables have turned...

Carolyn knows exactly what she’s doing by coming to Eve... like in S3 she came in and even though Eve refused, she still left the file with her... knowing that sooner or later Eve will still do the work for her since she can’t help herself lol. How convenient. At least she’s willing to pay this time.

The Preparation for Baptism

Besides Villanelle showing off her knowledge of the lines to Vicar, the absolute highlight of this scene was Villanelle trying to find the right spot for Eve to sit so she could see the angel wings behind her 😭 she was being shy and nervous, I bet not seeing the love of your life for longer than half a year will affect you in many such ways.

“I can’t reserve a seat at my own party?” ―  Villanelle pls 😂

Did Barbara actually dig up the dead cat from the freaking graveyard only so she could show it to the Vicar?? She seriously needs to go 

Conversation with the Vicar

One good point the Vicar made is that “Nelle” was with them for months and they hardly knew anything about her. And that led her to remind him, and let us know, what story she has cooked up for Nelle.

“Born in Russia, abandoned in an orphanage and sold into slavery”  ― well she’s not really lying here, just being extra dramatic about the slavery part lol. I mean I could see why Vicar didn’t trust her, having such a suspicious background while pretending to be a saint.

The fact that she thinks if no one were to see her being baptized means it didn’t happen shows her lack of faith. But then again, it’s one the ways she knows how to operate, through a show. 

I find it interesting that Villanelle didn’t directly lie or admit that she didn’t believe in God. Instead, her actual answer revealed so much. I think she truly believed that being around people who believed in God would help her change and I want to hug her for trying so hard 🥺️

I feel like Eve really needs to open up to Villanelle and let her know that she loves her the way she is and accepts her because suddenly Eve’s acceptance from 3x08 was completely erased from V’s mind 😭

The Funeral Home

The more I rewatch it the more it makes me question Eve’s disguise choice. Was she pretending to be Anna?!

Not gonna lie, Pam’s behavior does remind me of Villanelle’s back in 1x03 when she was pretending to be a nurse in that fetish clinic 👀

The way Eve straight up asks Pam if she knows Helene like... Eve honey, you’re better than that. Now Pam definitely knows you’re up to something. 

The Baptism

Seeing Villanelle’s expression drop as probably did her heart, while watching strangers come in without a sight of Eve was truly heartbreaking😭 really brings me back to 2x04 of when Eve didn’t show up... the only difference is that Eve wanted to come to Amsterdam even if she didn’t receive that post card from Villanelle... where’s here she did receive the invitation and decided not to show up 😭😭😭

Villanelle’s reaction to actually being baptized like... 🤔 asdjngsdjfsfs

Eve discussing Pam

“The look in her eye... I’ve seen it before. I can’t explain it” ― Hold up... HOLD UP for a moment! Eve did see it before. With Villanelle. And guess what? Eve described every tiny detail about her back in 1x02, so how come she can’t explain it now?! 

“That was an expert analysis” ― well Eve is an expert. Like Carolyn said, an expert of female assassin’s. So what’s changed? Or was this a writing decision that basically yet again confirms Villanelle and Eve are soulmates?? Since Villanelle is the only one Eve can connect on such a deep level to understand her like that? Or am I not getting something here?

The Fish Tank Scene

You’d think since Eve didn’t stop up at baptism, which was a very special day for Villanelle, she would be very angry and wouldn’t want to see Eve at all... yet here she comes, looks at her only the one completely in love could look and forgives the love of her life not showing up 😭

Villanelle going as far as to kneel before Eve... let’s be honest...we all know what we first thought was going to happen there 🤡

“If you’d really changed, you wouldn’t have come here” ― you mean, if Villanelle stopped loving and caring for you then yeah she probably wouldn’t have come there, but that’s not what she meant, Eve 😭

“If you’d really changed, you wouldn’t have let me.” ― also a good point. I mean maybe Eve could’ve made it harder for Villanelle to find her if she really wanted to leave Villanelle behind?

The moral of the story: both parties are trying to avoid each other but they have failed and now they came to blame one another since they can’t admit feelings for one another 🤡 aka. typical gay activity

Also, the fact that we don’t know what actually happened after bridge and Eve being so mad at Villanelle for no reason like?? She went as far as to slap her hoping that will drive her away... and it did break her heart, you could see it in her eyes... there could’ve been a short scene where Eve could’ve either told Yusuf or what happened or wrote something in a diary, a flashback, something so they could let the audience connect the dots... but instead we only got an explanation through one of Laura’s interviews.. which apparently described that Eve is trying to keep Villanelle as far away from herself so she could fully focus on the twelve, otherwise she wouldn’t be able to stick to the main mission with Villanelle around and in a way I understand... I mean who could focus on anything when Villanelle is next to you lol? However, that does not mean Eve has to be that cold with her... and there was no sign, no confirmation Eve is doing this to protect Villanelle... and I’m really hoping that we will get it in the future episodes... there has to be something more obvious that explains it.

“Yes I want to, yeah I want to really get to know you more” ― STOP IT WITH THE LYRICS ARE KILLING ME 😭😭😭

Tracking Down Helene

Look... I support Eve following Pam to get to Helene, but not that close!! Right before Pam got her I was really thinking like “did she seriously not notice someone right behind her all this time? Especially in the area where there were no people but them two?” and then Pam appeared out of nowhere to warn Eve not to mess with her. But we know Eve better than she does... nothing will stop Eve from getting what she wants 😂

One look at the car and BAM, there she is! Looks pretty French, huh?

Pam could’ve knocked Eve out if she wanted to...which leads me to think that maybe she did want Eve to follow her...? Maybe Pam already told Helene about Eve coming to search for her and Helene told Pam to lure Eve to her...? Making her think that she has trakced her down on her own...?

Nelle’s outburst

“It’s very much in your interest for me to believe in you” ― pls this bitch is actually killing me here 🤣🤣🤣

“I knew you weren’t real” ― that’s what happens when the love of your life rejects you I’m afraid... all the faith is gone in an instant. Come on V, all of it was for Eve from the beginning, let’s be real here.

“No one can pretend as well as that” ― oh sweetie... you’re in for a damn ride. Probably your last one too lmao!

“She knows you’d never hurt anyone...”; “You don’t know me” ― aaand here was the part where I was waiting for that sweet kiss to come... and it never did 🤡 interesting how Villanelle was trying so hard to receive that recognition of being a good person, the best one in fact, this entire episode and now that May tells her she wouldn’t hurt anyone since she’s so good, that’s when Villanelle feels like she has to prove her wrong. Because May doesn’t know anything about her... sadly. And thus drowning May I think was a form of lashing out due to Eve’s rejection. 

Not “Jesus” playing while Villanelle is literally killing May... ☠️☠️☠️

Now that instant regret completely mirrors Eve’s at the end of 1x08 after she stabbed her out of impulse and immediately realized what she has done. I guess Villanelle is so used to killing that it almost feels like she has to, its a natural thing for her to do... so not doing it it’s just weird. Off. Kudos to her for quickly realizing what she did and reviving May 🙌

Vlad & Carolyn

Well I didn’t expect to see Vlad again, so this was quite a surprise!

“Hello traitor” ― let’s just say Vlad is still very bitter for being pushed under the bus... and rightfully so. 

Is Carolyn this desperate that she’s willing to come and work for the Russian’s now to get some kind of information? Or does she have another plan for them?

The Introduction of Jesus!Villanelle

When Jodie kept teasing that they are going to be pushing boundaries with Villanelle, I’ve never, not in my wildest dreams, could’ve seen THIS coming.

I’m going to say this now, Jesus!Villanelle is the craziest and BEST thing that happened in KE and I am not going to accept any criticism for it. In a way it makes total sense knowing that Villanelle has such a strong god complex and that she now completely “lost” her faith, that the only one that could lead her is herself. IN DRAG 🥵️

Jodie admitting that playing Jesus!Villanelle is the sexiest she has ever felt PLEASE, I LOVE THAT SHE SAID IT, AS SHE SHOULD 😭

When you really think about it, Jesus!Villanelle is a GENIUS choice for a Jesus representation for Villanelle since it does include her sense of fashion, her sexuality, her gender fluidity... all those things that Jodie mentioned ARE there and I’m just like...🤯

At the same time a part of me still can’t believe that part happened.. like it’s too crazy good to be true.. but it did and I will NEVER recover from it lol... I mean if Jesus looked like this, you can call me religious lmao

The soundtracks

I don’t think any other show puts so much meaning into songs and lyrics they choose.. like the songs are literally made for this show, for these scenes and these characters...they add up so much more meaning and depth to them, it blows my mind every single time.. but the fact that Unloved created a couple new songs for this season is literally chef’s kiss 🤌

Well, if anyone lasted until this part, THANK YOU for taking your time to read my mess of a review lol! I’ll be back tomorrow with the second episode review! 

[stuckwith-harry]

Hide-and-seek

A/N: Oh, to be a chicken in times like these. (CW for discussion of death, nothing graphic.)

In the chicken shed it might as well still be the eighties, as though time had only gone on for the humans living in the house on the other side of the fence, but not in here, where the hens are quietly clucking and cooing and enjoying their naps, until Ginny shakes a handful of lettuce in the air like an invitation, a beckoning – then they come hurrying towards her, beaks tearing greedily at the green leaves.

When the hens have had their fill, Ginny looks over the gaggle of bickering ladies and finds her favourite amongst them, Genoveva with her warm brown feathers and clever eyes, who yells and shrieks when Ginny lifts her up by her impossibly soft belly, crouching down in the chicken shed, and pulls the disgruntled hen to her chest.

“Look, I’ll make it up to you”, Ginny tells her quietly. She fishes sweetcorn out of the front pocket of her dungarees and holds her open palm out to Genoveva, not flinching or grimacing when the sharp beak leaves little red marks on her skin as the hen gulps down her treat.

Ginny smiles.

The summer after her first year, she climbed into the chicken shed every day. She was soothed, then, by the arrhythmic clucking and the smell of fresh hay and the fact that the hens allowed her to share their company, that they did not recoil in horror at her sight.

It was her that named them, while she sat here for hours and hours with a chicken in her lap, more often than not Genoveva, who, for all her complaining, was easily the most patient of the bunch, and who nestles into her lap now, blinking slowly in the twilight while Ginny strokes her feathers, the burning inside her ribcage dull and pulsating like that of an infected wound.

Like it was her that took the damn Killing Curse to the chest.

“You’ve no idea how lucky you are”, she mutters, meeting Genoveva’s sharp eyes. “Nothing in those little heads of yours except earthworms and soft hay.”

She sits there for ages and ages like she did that summer, willing the comfort of the soft animal to sink into her like warmth. When she finally gets up to leave the chickens be, she tosses the rest of the sweetcorn into the hay (Genoveva looks utterly betrayed), fills up the grains in the feeder, and climbs out of the shed with the smell of warm feathers and wheat straw still in her nose.

“Chicken-feeding duty?”, calls a voice from near the house as she swings her bare legs over the wooden fence and strolls back towards the Burrow. When she looks for the voice’s owner, she discovers Ron, sitting on the weathered bench below the kitchen window.

“What’re you doing out here?”, she calls out as she comes closer.

“Hiding”, he says dully. “Mum’s crying again.”

Ginny feels something inside her chest take a tumble. “Is anyone with her?”

“Yeah, I’m not that much of a dickhead. Dad and Percy and Bill are all in there.”

“You’re not a dickhead”, Ginny says automatically, surprising them both. Then: “Mind if I stay?”

He shrugs. “Be my guest.”

So she sinks on the bench beside him, joining him in his grim silence. They gaze aimlessly over the soft green hills all around, the shape of the lake like a blue thumbprint in the landscape, where they whiled away so many happier, warmer days than this, and Ottery St. Catchpole’s mismatched roofs in the distance, smoke rising from the chimneys.

Ron finally looks over at her. “Were you with the chickens this whole time? I thought you’d grown out of your obsession with them.”

Ginny musters up a grin. “Never. I love those stupid hens. That was just an elaborate ruse so I could hide in the chicken coop when we used to play hide-and-seek. It never occurred to any of you to look.”

“Well, you stopped growing at about five feet, I figure you fit right in.”

Ginny whacks him in the knee. In a true testament to the severity of the situation, Ron does not retaliate.

She tells herself it’s that, not how much they aged him, the few short months that he was gone.

It’s less blatant now that Mum has shorn back the unkempt mop of hair that was falling into his eyes and growing down the back of his neck like wild weeds when he walked through the secret entrance of the Room of Requirements with Harry and Hermione; now that he’s shaved the patchy stubble on his cheeks and his face has regained a little fullness. But sometimes she still looks at him and wonders how ten years have not passed since she watched him slip away into thin air at Bill and Fleur’s wedding.

“Did anything happen?”, she asks. “With Mum?”

Ron shrugs, expression blank. “Some fool said his name again. I never noticed how rarely we actually said the twins’ individual names until we had to break the habit of saying Fred-and-George all in one go. It’s like he’s Voldemort.”

Ginny doesn’t laugh.

“I know”, she mutters. “Don’t think it’ll ever come naturally.”

He nods mechanically. “Anyway – I made a run for it. I just couldn’t do it right then, having to comfort her and everything.”

Ginny looks over at him. “Funny, you’re so good at it.”

“You just say that because I make the best tea.”

“Well, you do.”

The same way that children can recognise each of their family members by the sound of their footsteps as heard through a wall, or the rhythmic pattern with which they knocked on the door, the Weasley siblings have learned to read each other’s silences since they’ve come home. Often now, they appear at each other’s bedroom doors at all hours of the night, shaken from nightmares or too restless to sleep or, rarely, weeping.

Most nights, two or three or four of them eventually find themselves in the kitchen, where Ginny turns on the lights, and Ron puts on the kettle, and they sit there and while away the small hours in each other’s company, in silence, in quiet understanding, in murmured chatter about nothing at all.  It’s good comfort, the idea that even after everything, there’s nothing in this world that a hot cup of tea can’t fix.

Ginny shifts on the bench next to him, pulling her knees to her chest. “Remember when that fox got one of the hens? I was inconsolable, and you were so nice to me when we put her in a shoebox and buried her behind the house, you didn’t even make fun of me.”

“You lot are different, that’s easy. I just can’t take it when it’s our parents.”

Ginny hums in understanding. “I think seeing Dad cry was worse for me. At the memorial.”

“Cheers, thanks for bringing it up again.”

She snorts.

“You’re good with Harry”, she says softly. “D’you miss him at all?”

He rolls his eyes. “He just sleeps two floors below me, it’s not like he died.”

Ginny winces.

Ron does not miss the look on her face or the heaviness of her silence, as they have all learned to do, and asks in an unnaturally light tone: “How’re you coping with him waking up three times a night?”

He seems relieved, for a moment there, when she smirks.

“It’s not too bad, actually. At least he makes for a great pillow.”

Ron looks appalled. “What the hell happened to the camp bed?”

“Oh, we just keep that around for decoration now.” She grins, comforted by the opportunity to tease him. “And he doesn’t wake up as much anymore.”

His face lights up. “That’s good news, at least. Lead with that next time.”

“Oh, he’s just … stopped going to sleep altogether.”

“That really solves that problem”, he says darkly. “The idiot.”

“I don’t think it’s purposeful”, she says. “He’s always pretending to be asleep when I look at him, but I can always tell. And when he does doze off, I’ll just stir next to him, and that’s enough to wake him up again.”

“He’s a really light sleeper these days”, Ron says apologetically. “The worst camping trip in the world will do that to a person.”

Ginny grins faintly. “Yeah, he’s mentioned it.”

“He’s talking, then?”

“Hm-hm.” She wraps her arms a little tighter around her legs. “Which is good, I guess.”

He watches her for a minute, as though unsure what to make of her tone. “Anything on your mind?”

She laughs. “Anyone ever told you you’re turning into Mum?”

“Well, we’re here anyway!”, Ron says, ears flushing. “Spit it out, will you?”

“He, uhm –”

It has not occurred to her, until right now, how difficult it would be to pass the story on, even to someone who has heard it before. Harry handed it to her because she asked him to, and still it knocked into her like a wild animal, pouncing, the weight of it like a Hippogriff standing on her chest, pinning her to the earth.

“He told me about walking into the Forbidden Forest.”

“Ah”, Ron says hollowly. “No wonder you’re hiding in a chicken coop.”

She looks around at him. “It’s not Harry I’m hiding from.”

“But you are hiding”, Ron says wisely.

Ginny shrugs. “I dunno what I expected. Somehow I’d convinced myself I already knew the worst of it. Which, as it turns out, was a bit stupid of me.”

She draws in a shaky breath.

“I thought he was in on it. Ever since I watched him come back to life at Hagrid’s feet … I thought there was some sort of plan. But there wasn’t, or Dumbledore didn’t tell him, anyway. I thought he knew he was going to survive, and it turns out that, uhm – he didn’t know shit. He went there to die, for real.”

Ginny looks back at him, words coming faster now. “And I’m – I’m so angry, and I don’t know why. Or who I’m angry with. It can hardly be Harry.”

“In all fairness, I kind of felt like punching him when he told us”, Ron says quietly, and her mouth briefly twists into something like a smile. “If anything we should be angry with Voldemort, or Dumbledore, even – but they’re not within punching distance, so what are you gonna do?”

“If Dumbledore wasn’t already dead, I would kill him”, Ginny says. “I swear, I would kill him.”

“Yeah, that sounds reasonable”, Ron says good-naturedly, patting her arm.

“And Harry – Harry keeps apologising, and I don’t know what for.”

Ron’s expression is pained. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“No.”

He sighs. She handed this to him, and now he is steeling himself to hand something back to her. She can tell.

“My best guess is … for not saying goodbye.”

Ginny does not look at him. Suddenly she is blinking rapidly in the fading light, sitting there as the blow rolls over her, something blunt and violent that should have broken her ribs like the impact of a Bludger; but there is no injury, only an ache that does not abate, that sits all around her, inside her. She doesn’t think it’s ever going to go away, all that hurting, writhing and straining inside her like a second skeleton.

“How could he have? We would’ve dragged him back to the castle by the damn hair.”

“Of course we would have”, Ron says robustly.

For a moment he looks like he’s going to reach out to her, hold her, maybe. He seems to think better of it in the end, and she’s almost relieved, dreading what she’d do if someone hugged her.

It’s another thing that won’t ever come easily: showing up on someone’s doorstep, weeping.

“If it’s any consolation”, he says after a while, “I think that’s the worst of it.”

“I’ve been wondering”, she mutters. “Can’t think of very much that beats walking to your own death. No fucking wonder he doesn’t sleep.”

“It’s funny”, Ron says, “I talked to him less than an hour ago, and he seems alright, almost.”

Ginny shrugs. “Isn’t he always? Remarkably functional, considering.”

Ron makes an attempt at a smile. “It’s such a Harry thing to do, though, isn’t it? Always dying for other people. Or trying to, anyway.”

“Hardly just a Harry thing, it turns out.”

It’s all shit, she thinks when he looks at her. Being the person knocking at the door, and the one listening on the other side, opening it.

“He told me about Malfoy Manor”, she says softly.

“Ah.” Ron kicks at the dirt to his feet. “Well, then you know what keeps me up at night.”

“He said – he said you offered to swap places with Hermione. Let Bellatrix have you instead.”

“And? You would’ve done the exact same thing for him.”

Ginny almost smiles. He might as well still be the boy who stuck stubbornly by her side next to the chicken fence all night, when she couldn’t bear to head back to the house, in case the fox ever came back.

“Yeah. I would have.”

It settles on her shoulders as quickly and unnoticeably as night, rapidly falling all around them: everything she would’ve done, in a heartbeat, in an instant.

“I would’ve taken the forest, too”, she says, more to herself than to Ron. “I would’ve done it all for him.”

It seems significant, somehow, that Ron does not resist this. That maybe he knows what it felt like, to Ginny, when they walked out into the courtyard and saw Harry.

That, too, felt like a Bludger to the chest: the sight of him, a kid in Hagrid’s arms, his glasses askew. How she wished it was her lying there, dead in his place.

“Those two”, Ron says abruptly. “Some day they’re really gonna be the death of us.”

Ginny almost laughs.

“So you won’t strangle him for abandoning the camp bed?”

Ron eyes her for a moment, a sort of benevolent sternness in his expression – and Ginny was right, that’s all Mum. “Yeah, I’ll consider it.”

“I’m sorry, anyway”, she says, half-smiling. “For costing you your roommate.”

Ron sighs. “They grow up so fast.”

“And for all this, too. You were trying to hide, I didn’t mean to …”

“It’s all right. You had to find me eventually.”