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usermischief · 3 years ago

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♝Pairing: Stisaac ♝Warnings: - ♝Words: 1309 ♝ Dialogue Prompt: "Maybe we can cuddle. You know, seeing as we're already here." (for @amatchinwater) ♝ Mini Fic Roulette: 19/∞

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Stiles bites his bottom lip, furrowing his brows, and focuses on the exploding lights on the large TV. The controller vibrates in his hands as the helicopter finally explodes. Finally. This stupid thing has haunted him for the whole fucking game. He rubs his left eye with his knuckle and scrunches up his face. Sleep is slowly becoming less and less avoidable. It’s already way past three am, and his eyes grow heavy.

Briefly, Stiles glances over his shoulder. Isaac is already sleeping, back turned to him and the blanket pulled up almost to his ears. Stiles taps a finger against the controller. Sharing a bed with Isaac is equally the worst and the best thing in the history of ever. He wants nothing more than to curl up in Isaac’s arms, fall asleep and wake up next to him. However, there’s the whole ‘not-actually-dating’ issue. Snuggling up to Isaac now — something his traitorous body might just be doing while he’s sleeping — would probably be not only awkward but also very hard to explain.

Fuck.

Stiles bites down on his index finger, scowling at the game again. Nathan Drake is patiently waiting for him to make a decision. Continue and ignore the fact that he’s tired as hell or jump over his shadow and go to sleep. The first option sounds a lot more enthralling, but Stiles knows very well he’s not going to be able to keep this up for a week straight. Stiles has no clue what the point of a luxury apartment like this is if there are only two bedrooms and one convertible couch. Isaac flying in from France to join them already makes this complicated. If Lydia and Jackson hadn’t started dating again a few weeks back, one of them would have to sleep on the floor. This apartment has so much space and yet basically nowhere to sleep.

Sighing, Stiles ends the game. Better to just get it over with. How bad can it be? They both have their own blanket. They have their own pillow. The couch is easily big enough for two. This is going to be totally fine. Stiles places the controller on the coffee table and shuts the TV off, plunging the room into mostly darkness.

“Finally.”

Stiles almost jumps off the couch. “Shit.” Pressing a hand to his chest, he turns around to look at the werewolf. “I thought you’re asleep.”

Isaac chuckles and rolls onto his back, stretching a bit. “I was too busy listening to you cursing. You’re quite creative.” His curls flop into his forehead. Grinning, Isaac brushes them away. “And then you started cursing in Polish…” he trails off and tips his head to the side just a little, studying Stiles’ face. “I didn’t expect it to be that hot.”

Stiles blinks.

What?

Exactly how tired is he again? This has to be a hallucination caused by sleep deprivation. Stiles opens his mouth then closes it, squinting at Isaac.

“What?” Isaac quirks a brow, face partially illuminated by the dim lamp in the corner of the room. This guy has absolutely no business being that pretty.

Stiles has absolutely no idea what to say, and he’s never particularly thrilled about being rendered speechless. That’s how people know something’s up. So, in a fit of mild panic, he grabs his pillow and smacks Isaac with it. There, that should give him a bit more time. Hopefully. Stiles is not ready for a discussion about why he’s flustered. “Jackass,” he adds for good measure.

Isaac chuckles. “I mean it,” he says and sits up, “it’s hot. You’re hot.”

What the fuck is happening? Stiles stares at him in confusion. Yes, Isaac has always been quite blunt. There’s no other way to describe it. But this is a lot. This is a bit too much — and way too on the nose. Isaac can’t know, right? He can’t possibly know about his crush six hours after they’ve seen each other for the first time in — what, two years? Stiles thought he was over it. Seeing Isaac lounging on the living room couch next to Danny with his stupid smirk and his soft curls, his feelings ended up back in junior year.

Great.

“Cat got your tongue?” Isaac scoots forward, legs nudging the small of Stiles’ back. He’s close. He’s very fucking close.

Stiles turns around to look at him. “Shut up.”

Isaac runs his knuckles over Stiles’ cheek, smiling softly, eyes dropping to his mouth before flicking back up. Eyes dropping to his mouth. “You’re still so awkward with compliments.” Isaac chuckles and, being the werewolf he is, completely disregards everything he should know about personal space.

"I'm not." And that would be a lie. Stiles hates compliments. With a burning passion. It doesn’t really have anything to do with a lack of self-worth. He just doesn’t know how to react.

Isaac’s grin widens, eyes sparkling mischievously. “Oh, so you’re just nervous when I’m giving you a compliment, Pretty Boy?”

Stiles blushes, and he hates that he blushes. His body really is working against him once again. He’s not a fan. Not at all. This is so stupid. “I— uh…” he tugs at his sweatpants, unable to look away from Isaac even though eye contact becomes increasingly more intense. And then— and then Isaac’s mouth is on his, fingers brushing over his cheek before his hand slides into place on the nape of his neck.

His heart is about to explode out of his chest, and Stiles’ hands snap up, curling into Isaac’s loose shirt on his own accord. Something snaps into place, and he pushes against him. Groaning when Isaac doesn’t hesitate a second and hoists him onto his lap. He parts his lips, running his tongue over the wolf’s bottom lip. Isaac’s fingers twitch on his hips before one hand returns to the nape of Stiles’ neck. He shudders and wraps his arms around Isaac’s shoulders, pressing further against him.

“I’ve wanted to do that,” Isaac pants against Stiles’ lips, mouth parting into a smirk, “for so long.”

Stiles swallows. “You did?”

“I wanna do so much more to you.” Isaac pulls away a little and works his fingers through his curls. “But Jackson will rip out my spine if I have my way with you on his couch.” He wraps his arms around Stiles’ waist, tapping a finger against his lower back. “Maybe we can cuddle. You know…” he trails off and leans back, grinning slightly, “seeing as we’re already here.”

Cocking his head to the left, Stiles tugs on Isaac’s shirt. “You’re not kidding?”

Isaac shakes his head, expression softening, and cups Stiles’ cheek — a touch he immediately leans into. “You’re home to me. Always have been… at least ever since…” His eyes darken, and he looks down. Ever since the Hale Pack stopped existing. Sure, Isaac lived with Scott, yet Stiles couldn’t help but notice how he always managed to find a way to get to Stiles — sit next to him in class or at lunch, sign up for cross-country, return to lacrosse. When he left for France, Stiles felt it, too; a strange hole that refused to fill, that got even worse when Derek and Peter turned their backs on Beacon Hills.

Stiles nods and leans down, pressing his lips to Isaac’s softly. “I feel the same way,” he whispers and nudges their noses together. “And since we’re in London for a week, we should consider a hotel.” He chuckles when Isaac’s eyes darken and kisses him again. “I’d like for you to keep your spine.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Isaac moves them with ease, draping himself along Stiles’ back, and pulls his blanket over the two of them.

Sighing, Stiles closes his eyes, and the hole in his heart shrinks a little, now that part of his home returned to him.

#stisaac #isaac lahey #stiles stilinski #teen wolf #stiles x isaac #isaac x stiles #minificroulette #*tv:teen wolf #*w:complete #*s:stisaac

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cinnamonest · 4 years ago

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Congratulations, gentlemen. You made yourselves single again! 👏👏

That really made me angry tho :) I wonder how you can get them to stop? Like, the reader tells them that their parents separated because one of them cheated on the other and that greatly affected you, solidifying your absolute loyalty towards your partner?

I can see this backfiring a little bit tho lol (shame on you Venti. Take a page from Benny here, who you're SUPPOSED TO be on the same level 😤)

Ooooh... That's it anon I'm making HCs for breaking up with them and it’s not gonna be pleasant >:)

Modern AU -- breakups

TW: homicide-suicide mentions, intense slutshaming on one, cheating-related stuff, physical abuse/pain, sexism. And like most of these are kiiiiiinda pretty severe, not mild, so you've been warned

=========== Kaeya

It's *other people's* fault isn't it? Other people brainwashed you, made you hate him! But whose fault is it? If there's no specific people he'll just have to get rid of everyone. But he has to persuade you first. Which is why you wake up with either a knife to your chest or a gun to your head. It's simple. Either you get back together... Or you die. Don't worry though, even if you choose to die, he's loyal. He'll just kill himself after killing you and everyone you know and chase you into the afterlife itself. Isn't that kinda romantic in a way? How devoted he is to loving you? Pulls the if I can't have you, no one can line.

Oh, and if you choose to not die, you're going to help. You're going to name every single guy and you're going to tell him where they live and you're going to choose how they die. You get to pick the methods -- one dies by stabbing, one dies by shooting, you can even come up with some creative ones if you want! And you choose who gets what and in which order they'll die. That's how you prove your love. You'll drive to each and every place, get out of the car (at knifepoint if necessary), and go knock on the door while he stands to the side. It's you, so they'll let you in. They probably think you're there to fuck, since you've probably been a cocktease to every guy you know. They won't see it coming.

And there's another rule. If you start crying, you'll be the one to kill them. If you won't do it, he'll just hold the gun in your hand and wrap his index finger over yours to pull the trigger. Again, kinda romantic in a way. But since he didn't touch it... it'll be your fingerprints on it, and the gun is left at the scene. We wouldn't want you doing anything stupid like going to the police, would we? This is just a measure to keep you from making a stupid decision like that. And then when the police come looking for you, since you're associated with the victim... well, maybe then you'll be grateful that you're locked up in the basement, hidden away. Albedo

Says no. You're flabbergasted for a minute, what do you mean no? You don't get to decide! He says yes he does. His voice and face gets dark and you feel a fear creep up in your chest. You know he's, well, really controlling and toxic, but not... Unhinged enough to do something... Really bad... Right? He takes a step forward. You take a step back. And then you realize that yes, yes he is that unhinged. You tell him you're insane. You bolt. It's futile. Arms latch around your waist and you realize maybe having this breakup alone in your/his place wasn't a good idea. Drags you to the bed kicking and screaming and takes you right there, rambling about how he'll show you why trying to throw him away is a mistake. You're just crazy. Hysterical. Delusional. You don't even know what you're doing.

Or maybe... Maybe this was intentional, wasn't it? You wanted this. You wanted to make them mad and make them fuck you so that you could feel important and needed. You never expected them to let you dump them, you had no intention of doing so, this was all for attention. And you have the nerve to call him toxic. Girls do this kind of thing all the time, they'll do drastic or extreme things for attention and affirmation without thinking it through, because you can't be level headed, you think with your feelings. Girls blow things out of proportion too, are overdramatic like that, because he's really not as bad as you claim. You're over dramatic. You're making a big deal out of nothing. It's ridiculous.

And if you have to feel pain to understand that, well, so be it. Ties you up, face down ass up, and belts or whips your ass and thighs until you admit it. Admit you're being ridiculous, admit you're just trying to get attention and make him mad, admit that you're immature and hysterical. Once you do that, you can be untied. But because you're overdramatic, you'll go out and make shit up to other people, so for now, you'll at least stay bound to bed until you can be trusted. Childe/Zhongli

He just... well, the reaction depends. Childe rolls his eyes, Zhongli just kind of chuckles. He doesn't have the dark reaction because he doesn't take you seriously. He assumes from the get-go that this was for attention, to make them jealous, you're just like an angry little kitten scratching it's master when it's mad, a kid yelling at their parent that they hate them and "running away", aka going two blocks down the street and then coming back crying. Really, it's like you to pull something like this because you're a whiny little brat that doesn't think things through. That's why you need him, you just are too childish to be grateful. You're petulant, immature. And you'd just come running back to him within 24 hours, anyway. Because you couldn't handle life without him. You'd realize very quickly what a mistake it was.

But yeah he acts like you're not serious, just rolls off his shoulders. You insist you ARE serious. He sighs, God you're such a child. You're gonna go out there and go fuck someone and then come back and rub it in his face to make him jealous, that's your plan isn't it? That's what he says as he stands between you and the door.

But you know what? He should let you do it, let you go, then slam the door in your face when you come crawling back. He should. That's what any self-respecting person would do. You are so, so lucky that not only would he take your ungrateful, immature ass back if you did, but he knows you'd regret it so much that he's going to be the mature one here and prevent you from doing it in the first place.

If you want to behave like a child, fine, he'll treat you like a child. Children live with their parents. Children don't choose when they leave or what they do. You'll be like a child... he controls you, keeps you, tells you what you can and can't do. And when children are bad, they get grounded. They have to stay inside and can't leave. Until they learn their lesson. That's the only way you'll learn. And once you've decided to be good, once you can come out, maybe you'll be a little more respectful. Diluc/Xiao/Xingqiu

Assumes there's someone else, isn't there? You've been cheating on him haven't you? Calls you a slut and a whore but, you know, he loves you even though you're a slut. You know who else loves sluts? Yeah. No one. He's the only person who would ever forgive you. Anyone else would think you're disgusting and used.

He needs to know who the someone else is, though. Maybe it's similar to the attention seeker - you're trying to make him jealous. After all, it can't actually be for the sex, since no one else could ever fuck you like he does. You want him to prove himself? Fine. He found several guys when they went through your phone. It's one of them isn't it? Or maybe all of them, maybe you really are a whore. Well, since you refuse to tell him and keep lying saying that's not true, maybe they'll just kill all of them. Happy now? God, you're a demanding slut too. Sluts have no right to be so conceited as you are, they have no right to demand anything. You should grovel for forgiveness. No one else would forgive you, but he does, and you should be grateful.

He gets violent. If you don't wanna grovel, he'll make you. Shoves you down to the floor face down, but before you can recover he steps on your head, pressing your face into the floor with their boots. You can get up after you've told them the guy's name and begged for forgiveness. You insist there's no other guy... Whoops, looks like they stomped and broke your poor nose, based on your shrieking. ...How about now? In the end, you're forced to name a random male friend... Poor guy.

#first i had childe is JD agenda now its kaeya is JD agenda #*sings a musical number outside your door about killing everyone*#I want to punch them in the face but I also want them all to spit in my mouth ngl :/#lena's asks #atml

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yumeka36 · 3 years ago

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Analysis on the absence of Elsa and the Northuldra in post-Frozen 2 stories

If you've been following post-Frozen 2 storybooks and comics as closely as I have over the past year and a half, you've probably noticed that the majority of stories take place in Arendelle and focus on Anna partaking in adventures with Kristoff, Olaf, and Sven. While Elsa has appeared alongside them in a few stories, as well as a couple of her own stories taking place in the forest with Olaf and Bruni, the ratio of "Anna stories" vs "Elsa stories" is pretty one-sided. And, while new characters introduced in Frozen 2 like Mattias, Halima, Bruni, and Nokk, have had some appearances in post-F2 stories, the Northuldra have had zero…not even mentions or cameos. I’ve been pondering on this topic quite a bit and finally got around to writing all my thoughts. This is a long and thorough analysis so sit back, enjoy, and put your thinking cap on...

The lack of Elsa in post-F2 stories is puzzling since both Anna and Elsa are fairly even when it comes to post-F2 content in general; all the post-F2 merch I've seen has both of them in equal amounts, and pictures of Elsa are always all over the magazine covers and paper craft pages that the comics come from. So it's not like she's being excluded from post-F2 merch overall, she's just noticeably absent from most of the comics and storybooks. Again, this is puzzling because post-F2 marketing gives the impression of "Anna's doing her thing in Arendelle" and "Elsa's doing her thing in the forest," so an equal number of stories for each sister, as well as a few where they do things together, seems like the most logical way to go. Yet the ratio of post-F2 stories currently looks something like this:

Stories featuring Anna in Arendelle with other characters (no Elsa) - 56%

Book & Comic: Anna getting a gift for the queen of Chatho

Book & Comic: Anna getting an official portrait as queen

Book: Mattias getting accustomed to Arendelle again

Comic: Anna and Mattias visit Halima

Comic: Anna and Kristoff make a bicycle for Olaf

Comic: The gang helps Olaf find a new nose

Comic: The gang celebrates the spring festival

Comic: Olaf minds the kingdom when Anna is sick

Book: The origin of Olaf, Kristoff, and Sven's epilogue outfits (this one is technically not post-F2, but I'm counting it since it's so close to the end of the movie. Also it’s an upcoming book, so no link yet)

Book: Arendelle celebrates the cloudberry festival

(out of these, Mattias has featured in about 17%)

Stories featuring Elsa with Anna and the rest of Frohana - 27%

Book: Anna awaits Elsa's visit after their initial parting

Book: Explore the North (this isn't a storybook but a collection of isolated scenes during and after F2; since some scenes are post-F2, I'm counting it)

Comic: Elsa visits Arendelle for charades

Comic: Anna and co. visit Elsa in the forest to help Bruni

Comic: Elsa visits Arendelle for the snowman competition

Stories featuring Elsa in the forest with the spirits (and Olaf, no Anna) - 17%

Book: Bruni's Big Adventure

Book: Elsa, Sven, and the spirits help Olaf find a unicorn

Book: Elsa helps restore balance in the forest that resulted from the misguided actions of some travelers

(out of these, Yelena, Honeymaren, Ryder, and/or other Northuldra have featured in 0%)

*Major shoutout to @chileanon and @bigfrozenfan for translating many of these stories that aren’t available in English*

(my percentages are based on the number of post-F2 stories released thus far, to my knowledge, in the form of comics or books. Some stories have both a comic and book version, as well as two different book iterations with only slight differences. In these cases, I'm counting them as one. Since comics are released sporadically and only in a few European countries, my number may be slightly off if there were any not brought to my attention on social media. I'm very active with finding information about post-F2 content, so I feel my numbers are fairly accurate. And again, I'm only counting stories that take place post-F2, or at least within the timeframe of the epilogue, not stories that take place during or before)

(I'd also like to point out that Olaf is the only character who has appeared in every single post-F2 story so far. It makes sense since he's a very marketable character for the kids and simple to write for. Though this probably wasn't the intention, I'm seeing him as a connection symbol between Anna and Elsa as they go about their new roles).

So what is the deal with these ratios? As I said, both Anna and Elsa have been evenly highlighted throughout all of Frozen 2's marketing, and continue to be to this day (and Elsa is arguably the more financially successful of the two and Disney knows it), so why is Anna so much more prevalent when it comes to post-F2 stories? And why are the Northuldra so left out? Obviously they wouldn't feature in a lot of stories since they're not main (and marketable) characters, but if Mattias can appear in a story or two, why can't the Northuldra at least get a mention? If someone hadn't seen Frozen 2 and read these post-movie stories, they would think the only residents of the forest are Elsa, the spirits, and some animals. Is there a reason for this? These are the kinds of questions I will examine and attempt to answer in this post.

But before I get to the meat of this analysis, please take note of the following disclaimers (I apologize for the length of the disclaimers, but they're important things to keep in mind):

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Disclaimers

- All of this is my own speculation based on the facts made public; namely, the content of the post-movie stories themselves. Since I have no insight into the coordination, publishing process, or other planning/logistics behind the creation of these stories, theorizing is all I can do. I don't know to what extent executives at Disney dictate what authors can and can't write in these stories, whether the authors actually have a lot of creative freedom yet choose to write the stories this way, or whether these outcomes vary depending on factors like country and story format. So I'm purely going off the limited knowledge I have and what I feel is most logical.

- Continuing from my previous point, unless you have some insider knowledge about the inner workings of Disney Publishing Worldwide, Disney Press, or whatever branch of Disney creates these post-movie stories, exactly who is responsible for the way they are is unknown. I could be wrong of course, but I doubt that Head of WDAS Jen Lee has the need to personally green light 6-12 page comic stories that get printed in a foreign language magazine read by, like, 1% of Frozen's worldwide audience. Even though Jen Lee and Chris Buck created the story and characters of Frozen, the franchise is owned by Disney firstly, and it's very likely other people at Disney provide approval for things like this in lieu of the filmmakers. It’s doubtful that the Frozen 2 filmmakers had any input into the creation of these post-movie stories, or even know that they exist. While the Frozen 2 filmmaking team is responsible for how Frozen 2 ended, they ended it in a way for post-stories to easily expand on the Frozen-verse like how I previously described; some stories featuring Anna as queen and interacting with the people of Arendelle, some stories featuring Elsa in the forest interacting with the spirits and the Northuldra, and some stories with them doing things together. And technically this is exactly what post-F2 stories have been doing–we have stories featuring Anna as queen, stories with Elsa in the forest, and stories of them doing things together…it's just that the proportion of "Anna stories" vs "Elsa stories" is surprisingly off, plus the complete absence of the Northuldra. And again, whether it was someone's decision that the stories should be this way, or whether it's just a weird coincidence, is unclear. Is there a particular person or persons from Disney's publishing branches pushing for the stories to be the way they are? Or is it the individual authors' decision? Or some combination of both…or some other factor entirely? Yes, higher ups at Disney have to provide approval for every official piece of media that gets released for their IPs, but who is "Disney" in this case? A manager/supervisor at Disney Press? Is it the same person who approves every new story or just some? Is it just one person who approves or is there some long chain of approval? And if so, how far up does it go...all the way up to someone who actually worked on Frozen 2, or does it stop before then? Does it vary by country? Does it vary whether the story is in comic or book format? There are a lot of unknowns in terms of how these stories come about, so please be mindful of that fact before assigning blame to any one person or group of people.

- And lastly, again, I'm only focusing on post-F2 stories–stories that take place after the events of Frozen 2. I know that comics and books have come out after Frozen 2's release that take place during or before the events of the movie, such as a comic about Ryder helping Kristoff with the proposal and a book showing Frohana having a family game night prior to the movie. For this analysis, I'm only focusing on how the characters and franchise are presented post-movie, in brand new ways not yet explored in the actual canon of the movie. I'm more interested in seeing how these stories are shaping the franchise going forward in anticipation of new official canon content whenever it comes.

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So with all this in mind, let's keep analyzing…

Lack of Elsa

First I'm going to examine the main reasons I have for why we don't see Elsa as often in post-F2 stories:

Arendelle stories are easy and familiar: Personally, I think this is the most likely reason, especially for the comics. The comics are made as part of magazines released in a few European countries. They're simply extra selling points for the magazines, which contain other items that appeal to kids, like arts & crafts activities, and Elsa is always all over those even if she's not part of the comic. I would also venture to guess that the authors and artists who create the comics don't have a ton of time, or incentive, to weave together interesting stories. After years of releasing Frozen 1-based comics that almost always involve adventures in Arendelle, I'd imagine it's very easy for current Frozen comic writers to simply follow that formula, since it worked in the past and is easy and familiar. Sure, they could include Elsa in more of those stories, but if you look at it from the perspective of a comic writer with deadlines, if I could get away with writing an acceptable story without including an extra character to draw/write for, I would do that as much as I could. If Elsa is still in, like, 80% of the magazine, I think little kids would still be enticed to buy them even if she's absent from the comic stories. Obviously with Frozen 1, all the characters lived in Arendelle, so it wouldn't make sense to have a lot of stories without Elsa (though there were some). But now that Elsa is living elsewhere, her absence in these stories isn't as questionable, especially when she's still part of the magazine in general. While this logic applies more to the magazine comics than storybooks, I would still argue that the storybooks are also niche and are simply made to bring in a little extra revenue to small markets rather than a serious attempt to expand the canon.

So then the question becomes, why not show more stories of Elsa in the forest with the spirits and/or Northuldra? Those stories could be simple too, like a story about Elsa and the spirits helping Honeymaren find a lost baby reindeer or something like that. The reason for this could again boil down to Arendelle simply being an easier and more familiar setting to work with. If excluding Elsa from the comics has no affect on magazine sales, since she's already present in the rest of the magazine, why not just stick with a formula that works and takes less effort to write? Even if coming up with simple stories for Elsa in the forest isn't too difficult, Arendelle is a more recognizable and "glamorous" setting, especially for the magazine's target audience of little girls. Another key point is that Elsa's exact role in the forest was left much more open to interpretation at the end of the movie than Anna's role as queen. Being the queen of a kingdom is something easily identifiable, and again, easier to write for. Why risk depicting Elsa's activities in the forest in a way that could conflict with Disney's expectations (assuming someone with clout at Disney green lights these stories) when you can just stick with safe adventures in Arendelle?

Disconnect between stories and canon: This is more of a general statement about fandom interpretation of the comics and storybooks as serious depictions of post-movie canon: it's best to keep in mind that these stories are, again, simply made to bring in a little extra revenue for the franchise, as most of Frozen's earning are either from box office sales or toys/dolls and other merch. Most of the books and comics aren't made with a large, worldwide market in mind, so I'd hesitate to think that a lot of effort is put into creating stories that are true depictions of post-canon content that would perfectly align with a potential Frozen 3 or other future official releases. Many of the post-Frozen 1 stories released in books and comics contradict each other in minor ways, as well as the actual canon movies and shorts as well. This is unfortunately what happens when you have a franchise like Frozen that's owed by a company (Disney) and not an individual director, author, etc. Unlike, say, Harry Potter or Naruto, where the work is owned firstly by the original author who has say into practically every new media piece that's created for their franchise, lots of different people at Disney contribute to various pieces of Frozen media and bring their own interpretations into it…interpretations that could end up not aligning with each other or future canon content from the filmmakers. A few different authors write the post-F2 storybooks, and still different authors write the comics, and I doubt they collaborate to make sure everything in their respective mediums match up exactly, nor do they check in with the Frozen 2 filmmakers to make sure every story released is a clear representation of whatever vision the filmmakers have for not-yet-conceived post-F2 content. This might not be the case for a bigger production, like the Frozen novels such as Dangerous Secrets, and shorts like Olaf's Frozen Adventure, but it is for these little kiddy books and comics that a very small portion of the market even knows about. Even if someone at Disney has to approve them, as I mentioned in the disclaimer, we have no idea if it's the same person always approving, different people depending on country/format, or if there's some chain of people who provide approval. This spreading out of the Frozen-verse across different media formats and Disney branches unfortunately spells frustration for fans who are constantly trying to build one, coherent view of the franchise's world through the alignment of the comics, books, shorts, and movies. This is unavoidably the nature of the kind of franchise Frozen is–something that's owned by a multi-faceted behemoth like Disney rather than a single author, so there's going to be a disconnect between its media formats that are conceived by a variety of different minds at the company. In the end, everyone is free to decide what they do and don't consider canon, but don't be surprised when the image the storybook writing team has for Frozen ends up being different than what the filmmakers create years later.

The pandemic: While I don’t think the covid pandemic is the sole reason here, it could be a possible contributor. Manufacturing was compromised across various industries in 2020, and magazine/book publishing could have been one of them. Maybe Disney did have plans to create more post-F2 books in early 2020, but had to change those plans (among many other things) when the pandemic hit. Some possible evidence for this is that, for some of the storybooks at least, the European translations are based on the English versions, which means the English versions came first, and yet the English versions weren’t released until several months later, most not even in hardcover form. This could indicate a slowdown in this branch at Disney in the US, or at least a portion of it. The US did get some hardcover Frozen 2 books in 2020, like Explore the North, Bruni’s Big Adventure, and the Frozen 2 manga, but not as many as Europe, which is strange if these books started off in English first. Again, without any insight into the industry, I can only theorize, but I do believe the pandemic should at least be considered.

Disney restrictions for future canon: This is an optimistic reason, but one that I think is important to mention. A possible reason that Elsa is noticeably absent from post-F2 stories, but not F2 marketing in general, could be because Disney has future plans for exactly what her role as the fifth spirit is and they don't want to risk anything that portrays that role in a contradictory way. They might not know exactly what that role is yet, but they'd rather not risk retconning anything that's shown in official content, like the comics and storybooks. Since Elsa's role was left open to interpretation at the end of the movie, focusing too much on what she's doing everyday could inadvertently reveal things about her role that could be portrayed as expanding the canon, something that these stories aren't allowed to do. So perhaps the authors are told to downplay Elsa's activities in the forest as much as possible, so often they'd rather just exclude her altogether to make things easier. Of course, this is complete speculation, but I'd like to hope it's true if it means Disney has future plans for Frozen!

On that note, the only story released thus far that has a direct depiction of what Elsa does in the forest is Tales of Courage & Kindness, a digital book that was recently released as part of Disney's Ultimate Princess Celebration campaign. I feel like this book is slightly closer to canon than the other books and comics because it was promoted on various official Disney social media outlets (and was released in English, while many of the books and comics aren't). It depicts Elsa's role (one role she has at least) of helping the spirits protect the forest from outside influences that could throw off its balance. Again, this book is still pretty niche and we don't know if there was any collaboration between the filmmakers and the author of this story, so this depiction of Elsa's role could be downplayed in favor of something else in future canon content. But what I found most puzzling about it is that this book, which seemed to be written for slightly older children than most of the post-F2 storybooks, had a perfect opportunity to feature the Northuldra, since it takes place exclusively in the forest. And yet, there wasn't even a mention of them at all. Which leads to the next portion of this analysis…

Lack of Northuldra

Even though Elsa doesn't appear in as many post-movie storybooks and comics as Anna (for possible reasons I just discussed), she still features in some of them. The Northuldra, however, have not appeared in any post-F2 stories, even the few that take place in the forest. This is strange since the epilogue of Frozen 2 very clearly shows Elsa with the Northuldra at their camp, as well as with the spirits. But as far as post-movie stories, the most we've gotten is one line from Elsa in one of the comics (English version from the official UK magazine):

(thanks to Snow on Discord for sharing this with me)

We can assume the "anyone" she's referring to are the Northuldra who live in the forest (unless she's referring to the animals of the forest, lol. Also, why the heck are they calling Bruni an "it"? This is a prime example of what I mentioned before about the disconnect between the various branches at Disney. In the Bruni's Big Adventure book and other official content, Bruni is referred to as "he/him")

As a matter of fact, Olaf, who lives with Anna and the others in Arendelle, is more prevalent in the forest stories than the Northuldra! I feel like he's been added to these stories to give Elsa someone to talk to, since Bruni and the other spirits don't talk. But why not have her talk to Honeymaren, Ryder, or Yelena? I know all the kids love Olaf, but you'd think they could get away with having one story where Elsa interacts with the Northuldra, just like Anna has a couple of stories where most of her interactions were with Mattias. And like Elsa, the Northuldra aren't excluded from post-F2 overall as they're still seen occasionally in other merch. They're just not in any stories that are set post-F2. This exclusion of the Northuldra is very bizarre, so let's see what we can analyze for why it's like this…

The Northuldra aren't marketable characters: This would be a likely reason if it weren't for the fact that Mattias, who is also arguably not a marketable character, has appeared in a few post-F2 stories. In fact, many minor Arendellian characters often appear in the comics and storybooks…Halima has gotten more attention in these stories than the actual movie! So I think it's more than that, which leads to my next point…

The spirits are more marketable: This is probably why stories that feature Elsa in the forest aren't focused on the Northuldra. Again, assuming the stories in the books and comics are created just to bring in a little extra money and not as serious depictions of canon content in collaboration with the filmmakers, it makes a lot of sense to keep the focus on what sells the best. We know that (in terms of merch at least) Bruni and Nokk were the most popular new characters from Frozen 2, so why not have stories with Elsa in the forest focused on them? This doesn't contradict the ending of Frozen 2 after all. However, this doesn't explain why there's literally no mention of the Northuldra. Even if the stories focus on the spirits, they can at least show the Northuldra in the background or mention them here and there. Which then leads to my next point…

Few stories in the forest, so few chances: In conjunction with my previous two points, I think this is the main reason for the lack of Northuldra in post-F2 stories…there just hasn't been enough opportunities. First off, most post-F2 stories take place in Arendelle, so no reason for the Northuldra to be seen there (unless they wanted to depict Arendelle and Northuldra mingling with each other, but that concept is probably beyond the scope of the kiddy books and comics!) And as of now, there have only been four post-F2 stories that take place in the forest…

-Bruni's Big Adventure: this one gets a free pass because it's aimed at very little kids and literally just shows Bruni and Olaf goofing off, with Elsa making brief appearances at the beginning and end. The more descriptive European version does mention about Elsa living in the forest with the spirits and no mention of the Northuldra. But again, this book seems aimed at an even younger audience than the others, so I wouldn’t be surprised if the author needed to keep things very simple and only mention what’s important for the story at hand.

-A Day With Bruni comic: this one could have definitely shown some Northuldra in the background, or even mentioned them in Elsa's dialogue. I guess the idea was for the group to meet Elsa in a secluded area, since the story was about helping Bruni get his fire going again, which could be dangerous at a camp site. I still don't know why they weren't at least acknowledged in Elsa's dialogue, but that could have just been a conservative choice by the comic writer.

-A Unicorn for Olaf: while this book could have shown the Northuldra, since it features Elsa, Olaf, Sven, and the spirits travelling all around the forest, I kind of see why they didn't; the theme was that each spirit Olaf encountered helped him get closer to finding the unicorn–it's a simple and easy narrative for a little kid to follow, no need to complicate it by including extra characters (I know it's hard sometimes, but we have to keep the target audience for these stories in mind...it’s much more narrow than the movies!)

-Elsa's story in Tales of Courage & Kindness: out of all these stories, this was definitely the one where the Northuldra should have at least been acknowledged. The story features the forest getting disturbed/thrown off balance, so you would think Elsa would mention the Northuldra, the people living there, perhaps to ask if they know what's happening or if anything was wrong. Really strange that this wasn't the case…only reason I could think of is, again, insistence on simplifying Elsa's role in the forest as much as possible, which includes downplaying anything going on in the forest besides just her and the spirits. Maybe the book author wanted to include mention of the Northuldra, but then was told to edit that part out for simplicity's sake. In Anna's equivalent story in this book, Mattias is absent, which I found strange too. Maybe the author was instructed to keep things simple and not include extra characters if it's not necessary for the story (again, the target audience for this story is the general audience of little kids, not hardcore adult Frozen fanatics). But still more possible reasons for the Northuldra's exclusion from this story, and perhaps the others, could be as follows…

Disney restrictions on depictions of indigenous people: I'm not sure how valid this reason is, but we do know that the filmmaking team consulted with the Sami people about how the Northuldra were depicted in Frozen 2. So when it comes to depicting them in anything post-F2, perhaps Disney's being super sensitive. Maybe the image they want to avoid is "we got your approval to depict the Northuldra in Frozen 2, but as far as anything after that, we can do whatever we want." It wouldn't pay to consult with the Sami on all these little niche storybooks and comics, so why go through that hassle when it's very easy to just exclude the Northuldra from them? There are some flaws with this idea though, like where does Dangerous Secrets fit into this (it's not post-F2, but it's still content featuring the Northuldra in ways not shown in the movie). Then there's the fact that Disney doesn't have this restriction with their other movies that feature indigenous cultures, like Moana for example. But the argument there could be that Moana is a main character, so they literally couldn't have any post-movie stories if they had this restriction, so maybe different coordinating/negotiations took place in that case compared to Frozen 2.

The Northuldra are nomadic: This is a reasonable argument for why Elsa seems to often be alone with the spirits in the forest. But I feel like the movie tried to convey that the Northuldra live in the forest. They might travel around the forest to forage for food and set up camp at different locations, but they don't stray too far. In the movie's prologue, Agnarr does say that the forest was "home" to the Northuldra, and I don’t recall Dangerous Secrets giving any indication that they leave the forest for extended periods of time. But this is something that could definitely be addressed in future canon, I just don’t think there's enough evidence for it as of now.

Coincidence/author's choice: This applies not just to the absence of the Northuldra, but lack of Elsa in the post-movie stories as well…it could all just be a coincidence. Maybe the authors of these stories have freedom in terms of how they portray Elsa and whether or not they include the Northuldra, yet they simply are choosing not to. Their reasons for doing so could be what I've already discussed–stories in Arendelle are easier and more familiar, so why not stick with that when there's no consequences for it? And likewise, why continually include Elsa, an extra character to draw and write dialogue for, in the Arendelle stories when there's no need to anymore? Maybe tomorrow a new story will be announced that features Elsa in the forest interacting with the Northuldra and what I've said here becomes way less relevant? But I feel like it's not a total coincidence…like, maybe some countries are more restrictive than others, or some Disney branches are more restrictive, like the comics vs the storybooks. It's hard to say, but some of this could be coincidence for sure.

Conclusion

To summarize, there could be several reasons for why Elsa and the Northuldra aren't as prevalent in post-F2 stories, or it could just be a weird coincidence. I'm of the opinion that the authors of these stories keep the focus on adventures in Arendelle out of convenience and familiarity, since the books and comics are made just to bring in a little extra revenue from small markets. Elsa is still all over other Frozen 2 merch like dolls and toys, and that's where the bulk of the franchise's sales come from. The authors could be restricted by Disney in some way with how they depict Elsa's role in the forest, or whether or not they can include the Northuldra, so they often opt to just not have them in the stories, or just stick to the more marketable characters like Olaf and Bruni. Without any inside information about how Disney's publishing branch makes these stories, we can only speculate. But what I do know is that viewing these stories as an accurate image of what all future content for the franchise will be like is very premature. It's only been a year and a half since Frozen 2 (and only seven months since new animated content with Once Upon a Snowman). Even though that seems like a long time for fans, it's an extremely short time in terms of how long Disney takes to create new content for their animated films. Just look at how many years it took to announce new series’ for Princess and the Frog, Zootopia, and Moana? Monsters Inc. just got a new series ten years after its last movie, and Lion King, one of Disney's biggest hits, didn't get a series (The Lion Guard) until nearly twenty years after its sequel movie. Even if Disney seemingly abandons a franchise, they often come back to it in time, especially one as popular as Frozen. Unlike a franchise such as Star Wars that has a whole studio just for it, Frozen has to share resources with other Disney movies, which is why new content for their animated movies is spread out across so many years. And if we do get a Frozen 3 or a series on Disney+ however many years from now, there's a good chance it could portray the current status quo differently from these storybooks and comics, just like how the post-F1 stories feature a different status quo than now. Whether another change like this is good or bad has yet to be decided, but until it happens, I'd like to imagine it's something like this page from the Explore the North book (one of my favorite post-F2 images)

We see Anna and Elsa having fun together while Arendellains, Northuldra, and the spirits are learning to get along again...and honestly, nothing in these post-F2 stories I’ve discussed contradicts this scenario. Even if we don’t see the Northuldra in the stories that take place in the forest, that doesn’t mean they’re not there. Even if there’s fewer stories featuring Anna and Elsa together, that’s no indication of how often they get together in canon. As I discussed, there could be a number of reasons for why the post-F2 stories are as simplified and one-sided as they are...they’re only meant to extend the ending of the movie in minor ways, so that if Frozen 3 or other official canon content is released down the line, nothing will have to be seriously retconned. As I mentioned, a lot of hands at Disney touch these stories without paying mind to the fact that the filmmakers could conceive something different in the future, which is why I don’t take the post-F2 books and comics too seriously. I simply enjoy them for what they do offer and don’t get hung up about what they don’t offer.

#frozen #frozen 2 #frozen2 #disney frozen #frozen analysis #frozen comic #frozen books

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thegothicviking · 4 years ago

Text

As re-entering a link from herzeleid.com never seem to work (??) I usually copy and paste the actual text. Remember a transcription of Flake chatting with fans that I posted from early 00'? Before this Paul had a similar if not the same chat. I have already too long post in tumblr now so it will be broken down in 2 parts!

PAUL CHAT WITH FANS part I

Transcribed by Jeremy Williams

Taken from Rammstein.com chat

October 26 , 2005

_____________________________

Mod: Hello to you all. Thanks for coming out. Paul will be here in just a few minutes. And then we're going to get started.

Paul: Let's go!

niti: +++

Mod: Sorry, there was a technical problem. But the chat will start soon.

niti: +++

**atomrt: how do you chose the sounds for each song because all of them fit perfectly?**

Paul: Thanks a lot! Sometimes that works out well, sometimes not so well.+++

**maria: Your album covers have always sparked a lot of controversy. Which cover is your favourite and why?**

Paul: The cover for Sehnsucht was the most dramatic in my opinion.+++

**Benzramm: What was coming out of the fake penis during the live act "Bück Dich"? **

Paul: That was water with Ouzo to make it milky.+++

**Beurgueur: Good evening, Have you ever thought to write a metal-opera based on rammstein’ story?**

Paul: Hopefully not. We have enough theater elements already.+++

**MafiUndomiel: I was at River Plate Stadium in Argentina, 1999, when you toured with KISS. You did almost surpassed KISS music and show with your impact, and many people was really impressed. I still remember the silence during Du Hast, as Till was singing the refrain. What do you remember of Argentina, of this show? **

Paul: Yeah, that was unbelievable. It's a shame that we can't play in South America this time. Flake was seriously ill.+++

**MafiUndomiel: Did Till write Te Quiero Puta on his own, or had some kind of external help? I know it's not very complicated, nor elaborated in the lyrics, but it's not easy to put two or three sentences together if you don't know the language... believe me! I'm still trying with German!**

Paul: He had some help from his girlfriend and from Flake's friend from Chile.

Paul: But Till can already speak Spanish so well that he only had a few questions about grammar.+++

**monkeyman: What type of gear do you use when recording in the studio?**

Paul: This would take two hours to list. Too much for now. Sorry.+++

**Hugo: Why did you choose almost the same cover for the japanese version of Reise, Reise and Rosenrot? **

Paul: Because we thought it would be a shame to use the cover only for the Japanese edition.+++

**MafiUndomiel: There are many bands that edited DVD and VHS with the footage they got when they recorded their albums, the creative process and all that stuff. Since many R+ fans are really interested in knowing "Rammstein's kitchen", have you considered releasing something of that kind?

** Paul: I filmed some of the footage during Reise, Reise and it will come out sometime on a DVD as bonus material.+++

**blastedop: What happened to Live DVD? It was delayed? **

Paul: Yeah a little bit, but we're going to try to do it this year.+++

**MafiUndomiel: I wanted to know how did you put your setlists together when you go to a country you've never been... you mix old and new material, or you prefer to show your new material above all, and play only the "classics"? **

Paul: We play a mix of both old and new.+++

**Jenna: As you are possibly the most successful band from Germany (singing in German) that you are expected to represent German music and culture to the rest of the world? **

Paul: It was never our plan to play all over the world.

Paul: Sometimes we wonder ourselves how this all happened.+++

**beurgueur: what american film director would you enjoy to make a ckip with **

Paul: Tarantino.+++

**Benzramm: Did you ever get hurt when you were working with fire on the live acts ? **

Paul: Sometimes.+++

**aeon: One Rammstein member said you had a movie project with Werner Herzog. Do you think this project will be carried out and would you like to act in something different from Rammstein videos ? **

Paul: It's been awhile with WErner herzog. Maybe it will work out, there's still a plan to do it.

Paul: +++

**Rammsteinizied: Dear Paul: What is your favorite live performance effect? (like the flamethrowes in Feuer frei or the bow in DRSG) **

Paul: The nose flame throwers that we use in Feuer frei!+++

**MafiUndomiel: Which was your first guitar? Do you still own it? **

Paul: It was a Telecaster copy. A cheap one. I gave away my first guitars at an auction for a good cause. No idea whether it worked out.+++

**Straya: This has been in my mind for a while now, and I must ask. From the sample songs on the official site, it seems Rosenrot might be your 'hardest/loudest' albums, the songs seem 'hard', in a way, like Ich Will, Feuer Frei, and Mein Teil; what do you think of this? **

Paul: I don't think so. There are fewer sequences so the guitars come out better.+++

**Synthema: Do you still feel that being in Rammstein is almost like being in a six-way marriage? Does the band still function as a tight a unit or have things drifted apart? **

Paul: Yeah.

Paul: We're still together. Knock on wood. We've been together for 10 years and now that we've gone through our crisis, we feel better than ever.

Paul: We've got money, success, beautiful women and all the rest.

Paul: Things can only get worse.+++

**Jenna: Do you think your videos help to stop you taking yourselves too seriously? **

Paul: We've always taken ourselves less seriously than many people think. our best friends know this.

Paul: At the moment, we don't feel like making any humouress videos.+++

**whiskeypapa: When writing a song, how many/what kinds of revisions does the song go through before finally making it onto an album? **

Paul: Some songs make it out directly as we conceived them. With other songs, we make 20 versions and they still don't make it.

Paul: +++

**Noora: HI! I'm a fashion and design student from Finland and I was wondering about your stage costumes...How much do you participate in the designing and making of the outfits that you use on your tours? I understand that every album has its own look. Do you first design the outline of the look as a band and hen consult a designer and maker? Thanx and welcome back to Finland! :)**

Paul: Most ideas come directly from the band. For the last outfit, we had the idea to combine Bavarian folkloric outfits with industrial.

Paul: Because Bavarian folklore is not very cool and we like to mix things that you're not supposed to.+++

**Beurgueur: Have you ever thought in what your life would be now if rammstein never was created?**

Paul: No. We don't think that way.+++

**minx: It’s been stated in several interviews that the band has two pyromaniacs in the group, but is there anyone who is not so fond of fire?**

Paul: Everybody in the band has a different specialty.

Paul: Each of us is really equally important.

Paul: It doesn'T matter what each does, it could be better when two are on vacation during preparation and actually help us to make a good video this way.+++

**Badeend: Who thinks of the titles of the cd's? Is it some kind of democraty or is it 1 man that decides?**

Paul: We make the decision as a group but it's not really a democracy. More like a board of directors.+++

**Biz: How have older industrial bands (such as Laibach or KMFDM) influenced you?**

Paul: A lot.

Paul: Also Ministry.+++

**minx: What is the oily black/brown liquid that you are all covered with on stage? Is it a fire retardant liquid?**

Paul: No.

Paul: That's a secret.+++

**minx: Why did you wear a paper bag over your head at the concert in Tallin, last November?**

Paul: I wanted to display an Iraqi prisoner.

Paul: There's a photo of a guy behind barbed wire and he's holding his son but he has a bag on his head.

Paul: That photo really had an impact on me.+++

**aeon: Why do you only do signing sessions in London and Paris? Why not in other big cities f Europe or even Germany? Or is anything planned? **

Paul: Actually we've only planned for Paris. London snuck in at the last minute.

Paul: I don't know any more signing sessions details right now.+++

**Badeend: Did you take gitar lessons or did you teach it on your self?**

Paul: Self-taught.

Paul: +++

**minx: I am going to be at the signing in London on Sunday. Do you enjoy doing those types of promotional events or are they just ‘hard work’?**

Paul: Sometimes it's a lot of fun but other times it can be exhausting.+++

**Synthema: It could be said that the "Rosenrot" photos are quite a departure image-wise from what one would expect from the band. Was this something that was decided by the band for a particular reason, or is this the sort of decision that is out of your hands? Does your management or record label have much control over how you present yourselves, or is that left to you?**

Paul: We don't like to repeat ourselves.

Paul: Usually the band always has the last word on these amtters. But weR'e not always interested in all of the details.+++

**Badeend: What is the new instrument you used in the song Te Quiero Puta?**

Paul: Trumpet.+++

**beurgueur: do you think you'll be on stage again when you'll be 60? (like rolling stones for example...)**

Paul: Hopefully somebody will die first. Then we won'T have to worry about that.+++

**minx: Do you do you all do own make-up for the shows?**

Paul: Yes.+++

**OK-River: Will Rammstein play again "Bück Dich" in a concert, or it is something of the past?**

Paul: I wouldn't say no.+++

**blastedop: Rosenrot is so diferent from Reise Reise. How is this possible if these songs are from Reise Reise recording season?**

Paul: I don'T think so. Listen to the whole album.+++

**Benzramm: Are you a sort of scared when flake is going with his boat in the public ? **

Paul: No.

Paul: But it was always Oli last year.+++

**whiskeypapa: Which of your songs invokes the most emotion from you?**

Paul: Seemann.+++

**MsBehaviour: Greetings from Finland and good evening! My question is, you have been playing together as a band for quite a many years now, and there is a big difference in the sound of Herzeleid and the sound of Reise Reise. Does this "evolution" come naturally to you, or do you make conscious decisions as to where to direct your sound? How do you feel about the change?**

Paul: There are some of us who want to stay the same.

Paul: There's some of us who want to always change.

Paul: These parties fight each other and the result is a new album or a black eye.+++

**MafiUndomiel: Have you heard a cover version of Keine Lust made by a Russian guy called Miguel? What did you think about it?**

Paul: Not yet, unfortunately.+++

**Badeend: Do you have a private jet or do you have to rent a plane?**

Paul: When the record company pays, we fly Business. When we have to pay, it'S Tourist class. Sometimes, when the connections are difficult, we rent a litlle jet.+++

**luna: First "Snow White" now "Rose Red". Do the members of Rammstein have a fondness for fairytales?**

Paul: Who doesn't?+++

**Synthema: Do you still enjoy performing live after all these years, or is it more of a chore now?**

Paul: If we didn't like it, we wouldn't have been around so long.+++

**Benzramm: Is there a double meaning in the songtexts of your songs ? **

Paul: Yeah. But the subtleties and double-meanings get lsot in translation.+++

**Badeend: What is your favorite song or cd?**

Paul: Kill Bill 1.+++

**DRS2G: Is "Hilf Mir" inspired by a Heinrich Hoffmann's tale?!**

Paul: Yes.+++

**Synthema: Have you ever felt that the success of Rammstein has been a negative thing for you in your personal life? That it makes it difficult to decide who to trust and who not to?**

Paul: It is difficult to stay normal despite money and success.

Paul: We fight this on a daily battle but we usually win.+++

**Beurgueur: from a viewer: what guitar do you use for your c tuning, and what guitar does richard use for this?**

Paul: I play a Gibson Les Paul and Richard plays ESP guitars.+++

**Benzramm: Did you really go to the mountains for the videoclip "Ohne Dich"?**

Paul: Yes. The was the funnest video of them all.

Paul: The thin air up there was difficult.

Paul: I'm impressed by mountain climbers who go even higher.

Paul: It was difficult for our crew and us.+++

**MafiUndomiel: how did you and richard decided who was going to be lead and who rythm guitars?**

Paul: Good question.

Paul: We're both stubborn.

Paul: It's a fight every time but we're still doing alright up to now.

Paul: Actually, the winner is supposed to be the one who plays the best solo.+++

**Badeend: Do you still have to take guitar lessons to play better?**

Paul: No.+++

**blastedop: Do you visit fansites? How about a Top 10 Fansites in the official page?**

Paul: From time to time.+++

**Badeend: Why did you pick just that girl for the Texas vocal in Stirb nich vor Mir?**

Paul: It was our producer's idea.+++

**MafiUndomiel: Paul, is there any country that you´d like to visit or going on tour, and you haven´t yet? Why?**

Paul: Yes, we would love to go to Turkey, Mongolia, Iraq. We know we've got lots of fans there.+++

**Jenna: Which current musicians (Not youselves, I'm sorry) do you think are creating the best work at the moment?**

Paul: System of a Down, Muse, Snoop Doggy Dog, Eminem, Slip Knot, etc.+++

**Rammsteinizied: Dear Paul, How do you feel about us fans?**

Paul: It's an honour.+++

**Minx: Do you have a favourite guitar part in a particular song you really enjoy?**

Paul: +++

**DRS2G: Will "Rosenrot" be the 2nd single from your new album?!**

Paul: Yes.+++

**Straya: I'm wondering how this question has not come up yet... but, plenty of people are asking if you guys will tour in America and Canada. I don't mean for this to be one of those annoying questions. But, has anything be talked about?**

Paul: I'm certain that we'll tour North and South America with our next album.+++

**rammsteinuk: I read in a recent interview that there were some arguments within the band during the production of 'Mutter'. Have there been any more strong disagreements like this since?

**Paul: Thankfully not. There's always stress when six stubborn people meet, but nothing serious.+++

**minx: Most influential musician on yourself?**

Paul: Laibach, Ministry, Metallica, Nirvana.+++

**blastedop: Did you like Benzin video? Schneider didnt.**

Paul: I don't think it's that bad.

Paul: We've had three really good videos in a row, so it'S hard to keep the standards so high.

Paul: I'm glad that there's some variation, next time we'll improve.+++

**whiskeypapa: First, Reise Reise saw a "country moment" with Los, and now Rosenrot has Te Quiero Puta. If you could make a fusion of Rammstein and any other world music (for fun), what would it be?**

Paul: Yes, I interested in all combinations of things that don'T fit together.+++

**Biz: Are there any downsides to being famous?**

Paul: We're famous but we can still buy groceries in Berlin without bodyguards.

Paul: We've got nothing to complain about.

Paul: Our band is famous around the world but we still have normal lives, thank God.+++

**minty: Paul are you looking forward to the world cup next year? who will win?**

Paul: Yes. It doesn'T look good for Germany right now.

Paul: I hope that a miracle happens.+++

**aeon: Do you hope your music will still be appreciated in many years from now or it doesn't matter to you ?**

Paul: I think that we're relatively timeless.

Paul: But that'S probably what every band thinks and two years later nobody cares ...+++

**DRS2G: Was it good to be directed by Jonas Akerlund?!**

Paul: Yes, he's just a cool guy.+++

#I have had this in my draft since forever #I'm sorry if I have already posted this #paul landers #rammstein interview #rammstein #christoph schneider

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genderhoax · 4 years ago

Note

I used to want to be an artist but then i stopped drawing for like 7 years. I want to go back but i'm scared and dont know where to start. So yes, i am interested in those drawing videos can you post them if you dont mind? ^_^

Of course!! I am in the same situation as you actually. I used to draw a lot in middle school (2010-2012) but my depression worsened during high school and in college, I’d only draw as a distraction, never seeking to study or improve. I decided to get back this year, since I decided drawing was the only thing I could see myself doing professionally. I felt very lost, because how do you get back? How do you know what’s your actual, current, art skill? What are your weaknesses? Your strong points?

That’s how I learned to study the fundmentals of art. Because visual art is not a skill. It is a set of skills, if you are very good at anatomy but not really when coming to painting your art is going to look differently than someone who learned anatomy in how to draw manga books but paint like a pro. I am going to divide this post in categories, Also, all the videos I link I also recommend all the channels they are from! My favorites are The Drawing Database, Sycra and Ganev, Sycra and The Drawing Databse have a little of everything and are great at explaining. Ganev is a bit sarcastic but I like the way he teaches. I took some parts of the text of this post from here.

How do I begin? How do you even get back at art? What tips should you use? These are general tips videos, usually nice to draw along. /the fundmentals and how to get started/ /5 tips for better drawing/ /perfect pratice/ /beginner’s guide/ /5 tips for digital art/ /10 tips to improve/ /why your drawings are stiff/ /what level is your art/ /improve your art fast/ /drawing basics/ /how to hold and control your pencil/ /intuitive drawing method/ /iterative drawing/

The Fundamentals: Proportion & Placement Proportion is relationship between one element and another. In the visual arts proportion relates most importantly to the abstract quality of scale and placement. You know how stereotypically an artists puts a pencil to their eye when looking at an object? They’re mesuring the proportion of the object in question and how to represent it corectly in the drawing. /principles of proportion/ /ways to create illusion of space/ /drawing the human figure/ /how to draw proportions playlist/ /how to use proportion in character design/ /basic anatomy and proportions part one/ /part two/ /part three/ /part four/ /proportion basics/

Form & Construction The idea of form is how we see the 3D objects in or world and transform them into 2D in the paper/canvas. It’s understading that eveyrthing is made up of basic forms. /dynamic sketching part one/ /part two/ /how to draw forms/ /structure/ /building form/ /another how to draw forms/ /how to visualize 3D forms/ /form study process/

Perspective & Depth Perspective is knowing that as things move away from the viewer’s eye, things seem to get smaller. Get familiarized with terms like horizon line and vanishing point. This is the basic that must be understood to learn perspective. Here’s a good article about this. /an intro video on the subject/ /step by step tutorial/ /perspective basics part one/ /part two/ /part three/ /part four/ part five /part six/ /another basics video/ /20 perspective lessons/ /eye level tip/ /linear perspective/ /simple form perspective/ /drawing the figure in perspective/

Anatomy Anatomy is something I think it’s one the most crucials things to learn in order to make your drawing look good. Once you understand how joints work you’ll be able to see how bones and muscles move. And this goes for anything with a skeleton. It’s one of those things of you learn the rules before breaking them. I am linking different playlists, since linking different videos on various parts of anatomy would take forever. Just study a body part at time: head, eyes, nose, lips, ears, shoulders, neck, hairline, breats, torso, hands, feet etc. /how to do an anatomy tracing/ /playlist 1 / /draw the head from any angle/ /anatomy for artists/ /draw facial features/ /how to draw and paint/ /playlist 2/ /draw 3/4 head with loomis method/ /playlist 3/ /drawing a head in 3 hours (this one is great to draw along with the artist)/ /how to draw a body/ draw a head with loomis method part 1/ /part 2/ /part 3/ /decipgering bridgman’s anatomy/ /anatomy quick tips/

Gesture Gesture drawing is a method of capturing figures in exaggerated poses, usually drawn quickly. It is important to undersand that the goal of all gesture is to study the figure and see how it moves. I like looking at poses and copying them. Here’s a good article. /how to draw gesture/ /how to draw any pose/ /draw interesting poses/ /a guide on gesture drawing/ /tips for expressive dynamic poses/ /figure drawing tips/

Composition The overall layout of a piece is very important. Artists often consider things like the rule of thirds or the infamous golden ratio. Neither truly defines a composition, but they can both go into your decision making. /composition in art/ /understanding composition/ /10 composition tips/ /beginner’s guide to composition/ /art fundamental: composition/

Value Studying value is very much the study of light and shadow. But there is a technical side of light that you’ll want to pay attention to if you’re going for technical rendering. /guide on rendering/ /seeing light and shadows in daily life/ /10 minutes to a better painting/ /understaing colors and values/ /shading basics/ /ambient occlusion/ /shadow colors/ /tips on how to shade/ /draw shadows on objects and people/ /lighting tutorial/

Color Theory Color theory is understanding which colors go good with eachother, and knowing the pyschology behind it. (what are cool colors? what colors make someone feel comfortable?) It is fundamental in art for you to understand the relationship between colors and what makes them look good. Best color theory books. A comprehensive guide to color theory. /hue value saturation in photoshop/ /color theory for noobs/ /understanding color/ /what you should know about colors/ /warm and cool colors/ /the basic elements/ /choose colors that work/

Traditional Media If you draw in traditional media, all videos above can be used easily. These are just videos for general tips in traditional media, there isn’t many since my focus is digtal ^^’ /watercolor tips/ /draw with colored pencils/ /blending colored pencils/ /4 how to draw lessons/ /Block in colors/ /holding the brush/ /

Digital Media Digital art is how everyone’s been doing art these days. It doesn’t matter if you’re doing with your phone or your computer. I don’t do art on my phone, I know the most used app is mediabang for android and procreate for apple, and I think anyone who is able to do art with their finger is very skilled. If you are like me and prefer doing art on your computer, you probably have your tablet. If not, well you should have. Not having a tablet is not an option if you want to get better at art ^^’ Best tablet for beginners in 2020. Or you can just buy an old used one, if it still works, and you are a beginner, a small intuos is all you need. When talking about softwares, the three big ones I see people using are: Photoshop, Clip Paint Studio and Paint Tool Sai. The best one is CPS, but I find Sai easier to navigate, but CPS is extremely complete and I hope to be able to master it someday. CPS Tutorials. I don’t have much to say about photoshop, people use it mostly because they’ve been using it forever lol I divide my digital painting process in steps: Sketch/Lineart/Color Blocking/Shading/Blending/Color correction. Sketch is the basics, draw your idea. Lineart is to clean your sketch. Color Blocking is to color your drawing one color, so it’s easier to work in it. Shading is to understand where the lighting sources are coming from and apply them. Blending is to blend the colors of your drawing with brushes. Color correction is when I use filters of hue/saturation and others to make the drawing more appealing. These require understadings of the software of your choice which I am not very good at the moment so I can’t give you more tips than that ^^’ Hopefully these videos can help. /perspective grid/ /clean line art/ /coloring process/ /make lineart interesting/ /best brushes for digital painting/ /skin shading tutorial/ /lineart vs painting/ /art in clip studio paint/ /hair tutorial/ /3 tips for improving/ /10 digital art mistakes/ /color block tutorial/ /shading skin/ /from lineart to painting/ /cleaner lineart/ /add texture to your art/ /improve your art with better shadows/ /the importance of brushes/ /use layer modes/ /improve your lines/ /how to blend colors/ /another blending tutorial/ /color blocking/

Exercises It’s no secret that to improve on art, you must pratice. Everyday, even if it’s just a little! A great way to pratice is make use of youtube picture in picture function to draw along in your software of choice. /pratice drawing forms/ /proportion exercises/ /perspective exercises/ /value studies/ /creative drawing exercises/ /simple drawing esercises/

Resources Senshi stocks, a deviantart page full of poses photos. Quick poses, pictures of models, contains nudes. Character design references DesignDoll, create a personalized sketch doll and make it pose.

Phew!!! This took forever to make and is way more than you asked for, but I decided to go all in so I can have a masterpost for me too and for anyone else interested in art. As soon you can understand the fundamentals, you can do your own research and study, youtube is really great for this. I hope this helps, let’s get better at drawing together!!! Ganbarimashou (ง •̀_•́)ง

#anon #askbox #I feel there's a lot more to add but I'm tired I've been working on this sicne yesterday ^^'#Like there's more softwares and resources I could link you I know of that #So when I think of something else I may add to this psot #post #if you feel overwhelmed because this is a lot of info you can start with the beginner section of this psot #and sycra's channel

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herohotline · 5 years ago

Note

The students finding out Aizawa has a (very popular) hero husband?

A/N: SO... I used the quirk idea i have for an OC for the reader in this fic, since I’m not very creative with quirks. Still a reader insert, tho!! Also i kinda went OFF on this one lmaoooo

Reader’s Hero Name: Nebulous

Reader’s Quirk: Hallucination - Make one or more people see hallucinations, varying in detail and overall size based on how much he’s concentrating. The quirk is nullified if the person realizes what they’re seeing isn’t real.

———

If anyone were to guess what Aizawa’s opinion over the pro-hero Nebulous, they would probably assume it was a sour one. Whenever the hero tended to come up in conversation, Aizawa seemed to get irritated and tense- as if he despised the hero entirely. Personal, close friends, knew why he truly acted this way- but his students did not.

Right before Aizawa had come to class, the students were bustling with energy as usual. This time, it was over the fact that Pro-Hero Nebulous had gone undercover and stopped a human-trafficking ordeal taking place at an abandoned warehouse. Dozens of people were saved, and the fact that the organization had been revealed and busted, hundreds more would be saved as the day continued, all thanks to Nebulous and his quick thinking.

“Did you read the witness reports?” Uraraka chimes in to the conversation that the entire class seemed to be in, all of them sitting at their desks and turning their bodies in their chairs to be included. “Apparently a couple and some others saw the action!”

“Really?”

“That sounds so scary, though! Do you think they were seeing his quirk, even from that distance?”

“They had to! Some of the things that was reported was so bizarre-“

“Oh! Do you have a link to the reports?”

But just as Uraraka begins to bring her phone out of her bag, the door to the classroom slams open. The sound shocks a bunch of them as their heads snap forward, seeing Aizawa looking disheveled and grumpy in the doorway. But that’s nothing unusual.

In her shock, Uraraka drops her phone on the floor and it makes a sharp sound on the tile below before she quickly scrambles to pick it up. Aizawa just eyes her silently.

“You know phone’s aren’t allowed in class,” he says simply as he walks to the podium, placing a textbook on top with a sigh. “Put it away.”

“Y-yes, sorry Aizawa-sensei!”

After that, class silently begins as Aizawa talks about future plans for the class and training schedules. Most days, his class would be learning with at least one eager ear- but it’s not hard to notice he hardly has their attention at all today.

Needless to say, it irritates Aizawa greatly.

“Alright,” he slams the book he was reading from shut, the loud thud making his students jump again. His black eyes scan the room silently- their whispers and note passing has finally stopped, now that they notice how mad he is- until he finally puts his gaze on Midoriya. The one who’s been twitching the most this entire time. “Midoriya. Tell me what’s going on.”

Plus, the boy didn’t have it in him to lie. Especially not to Aizawa.

“M-me?!”

“Yes. Spit it out.”

Midoriya looks nervously around the room, swallowing thickly before he looks back to Aizawa. And then with a shaky breath, he let’s himself speak with a wince- as if he’s stepping right into a bear trap and he fully knows what will happen next.

“W-well, um, this morning there was a really cool undercover bust! Lots of people were saved, and it was... really cool.”

Aizawa squints. “I see.” Slowly, he leans his elbows on the podium as he stares at Midoriya. “Go on.”

The poor boy is practically vibrating from anxiety at his teacher’s cold stare. He has no idea why he’s harping on him like this, but Midoriya hates it. So much. “And the hero Nebulous was there, and uh- there were some eyewitnesses who saw his quirk. And he did a great job?”

There’s a chilling silence once Midoriya finishes- you could honestly cut the tension with a knife. But slowly, slowly, Aizawa leans back up, a frown etching deeply on his lips. “I see. That’s why you’re all so excited?”

The students nod.

“Mm...” The teacher grumbles, still offering nothing but silence until he finally speaks again. “Would you like to know more about the scene, then?”

They don’t know what to say. All of them look at each other nervously, feeling like maybe they shouldn’t know- but then Kaminari opens his big fat mouth. “Yes?”

It earns him multiple glares and harshly mouthed words.

“Alright, I’ll tell you what happened.” Aizawa walks over to his desk, letting the chair screech against the tile as he pulls it out and falls against it. “Pro-hero Nebulous has been working on this undercover case for a few weeks. He had been working on it with his agency, trying to find the best approach with the fewest casualties to confront this organization. But, he saw an opportunity arise. Without informing his agency or any back-up, he confronted the villains early this morning in their warehouse.” As he speaks, his voice is laced with a heavy, angry tone. His words are clipped and chilly as he crosses his arms and looks toward the class. “Can anyone tell me why that was such a god-awful idea?”

Momo slowly raises her hand, and she tries her best to speak evenly when Aizawa gives her permission to speak. But she was truly as nervous as everyone else, especially now that the teacher’s attention was all on her. “...Nebulous had gone solo into, assumingly, their base of operations. He most likely didn’t know the entire warehouse as well as the enemy, and his only advantage was a surprise attack. But the villains had numbers, weapons, and hostages on their side.”

“Perfect, Momo.” Aizawa grins- but it’s not a happy one. “As Momo has said, Nebulous made a very impulsive, stupid decision that could have gone sideways in an instant. This is a mistake that one of you could easily make-“ hey, ouch, “But for a pro-hero to make such a mistake is unacceptable. Does that sound right?”

The entire class agrees with a “Yes, Aizawa-sensei!” Much too terrified to disagree with him, if they even had the guts to.

“I will also tell you that Nebulous did not escape the ordeal unharmed. He is being held at the hospital being treated for a concussion and three gunshots.”

This was obviously news to the class as they look at each other with surprised glances, a few gasps being made. Uraraka softly speaks up, concern in her tone, “is he going to be okay?”

Surprisingly, Aizawa’s face softens, at least a little bit. He nods once, a heavy sigh leaving his body. “He’s a hero, so he's getting the best treatment he can. It is not the worst thing that could have happened, obviously, and more terrible things have happened, but there are more factors to put in place from his idiocy.” The teacher frowns again. “There are consequences for being stubborn and impulsive. There’s the financial side of things like hospital bills, there’s the people worrying about him such as fans and family, and the fact that he’ll most likely get laid off from his agency if things like this continue.”

He’s being unusually harsh, especially towards a random pro-hero, that much is made clear to the class. But perhaps he’s just trying to teach them something? Apparently so, because the next thing he has to say is, “so while Nebulous did his heroic duty... do not idolize him for making such amateur mistakes. Learn from it instead. Class dismissed.”

And the class left home room feeling confused and a little bit scared.

———

Rumors have started to spread ever since that day about Pro-Hero Nebulous and Eraserhead. After it left the classroom, more and more interesting theories came into bloom around the school. Were they archenemies? Did Nebulous do something to Eraserhead? Or were they secretly in love but can’t confess because it’s too complicated?!

The rumors could possibly be the death of Aizawa, and he makes sure to punish his class for starting them by making them train non-stop for an entire day. He supposes he did get a little heated, but at least he put it into some sort of lesson for them to learn from. But no one learned anything- they just tried to sneak into his private life instead. Which he was very adamant on keeping private.

And you, his lovely, stupid husband, respected Aizawa’s wish for privacy. You had since the very beginning- it’s why so few people knew you were married. It was hidden for the sake of Aizawa’s peace of mind and comfort, and he appreciated you greatly for it.

But after being married for a few years and the tense fight you had over your most recent scuffle, apparently you were done being patient with him. Especially after you had heard about the rumors flirting about the school he worked in.

———

You didn’t tell him what you were planning. Things were still a little silent in the house you shared that morning as you got ready for an interview with the press- the two of you kissed goodbyes, but that was about it. Of course, you understood your husbands worry over you, but enough was enough.

Entering the building you were being interviewed at, you searched for the perfect opportunity. For Aizawa’s sake, you wore your rings of promise around your necks instead of your hands, safely hidden. But today you wore it proudly on your finger- but you hadn’t let the camera see it yet.

Then your opportunity came. The girl interviewing you was young and sweet, her face dolled up for the camera with a pretty smile. But her face grew worried as she entered the next segment the casters had planned- “are you willing to talk about the recent trafficking bust?”

You smile at her easily, crossing your legs and nodding. “Yes, I knew it was coming eventually.”

You put your hands atop your knee- your ring now visible, but no one had taken notice yet.

“Well, I can safely say we were all worried when we learned about your injuries. Have you healed up fully, or do you have any permanent damage that might affect your future work?”

“Ah, right,” you laugh from your nose and squint your eyes. “Yeah, I’ll admit, it definitely hurt afterwards. My husband gave me an earful about it, I assure you, but I’ve fully healed up and should be ready to get back to work in a few days.”

“Oh, of course!” The reporter nods her head- and then there’s a shocked silence as her eyes grow wide. You can tell from one of the TVs in the room that the camera’s have zoomed in on you and your wide grin. “Did- you have a husband?”

Your grin grows wider as you nod. “Yes, I do. We’ve been married for a few years- I’m a little shocked that no one’s caught us yet, but Eraserhead is really good at keeping things hidden.”

Her eyes widen even more. “E-Eraserhead?!”

Chuckling deeply, you look at her in mock surprise. “Oh, oops.” And then you look directly into the camera, giving it a wink.

“I- I mean,” the poor interviewer looks at a loss for words as she sits still across from you. She looks at the cameramen, who just shrug at her. “This is... big news. I mean- married?”

“Yeah... Wanna see my ring?”

The interview has possibly the most viewers that the channel has had in over a century, and boy do you feel amazing.

———

The unfortunate thing for Aizawa is that since the students were so worried over your wellbeing, he decided to have them watch the liveshow in class as it aired.

Of course he noticed when you crossed your legs- of course he noticed the ring on your finger. You’ve been hiding your relationship from the public for so long, it was impossible for him not to. And a deep feeling of dread filled him once he remembered the look you gave him before you left the house this morning.

You were planning something. And he wasn’t going to like it.

“Well, I can safely say we were all worried when we learned about your injuries. Have you healed up fully, or do you have any permanent damage that might affect your future work?”

The students- the ones who cared, at least- had sat forward in their seats once the reporter asked this question. Surprisingly, you just smiled and laughed- your left hand twitching, but no one else noticed that but Aizawa.

“Yeah, I’ll admit, it definitely hurt afterwards. My husband gave me an earful about it, I assure you, but I’ve fully healed up and should be ready to get back to work in a few days.”

This is when it started getting bad.

Unlike the reporter, the girls in his class- along with Midoriya- noticed your little ‘slip-up’ right away. Jirou had reached out and grasped Momo’s hand in shock, which in a way was cute, but Aizawa was too busy wondering if he could stop you from what you were about to do if he jumped out the window right now and was just really, really fast.

“Did- you have a husband?”

“Oh my God, is this really happening,” Ashido holds her face in her hands as she stares at the screen.

“Who is it?!”

“Yes, I do. We’ve been married for a few years- I’m a little shocked that no one’s caught us yet, but Eraserhead is really good at keeping things hidden.”

Ah, there it is.

The whole class, as if on cue, starts yelling loudly and staring at their teacher who’s literally sitting dumbly in his chair, hands stuffed in his pockets and face halfway stuffed in his scarf. He hisses long and low as he stares at the screen in front of the class- looks at you and your stupid fucking grin.

“Aizawa-sensei, is he joking?!”

“Aizawa-sensei, let me see your ring!”

“Aizawa-sensei?!”

This is the worst day in history. This is the worst. Aizawa quickly stands up, shutting the TV off. His students are still screaming, some of them getting out of their seats, and the hero is just... he’s done.

“Alright. Class is over for the rest of time. Goodbye.” And then he opens the window next to his desk- the quickest escape route. He hears Midoriya yell at him that this isn’t the first floor, but Aizawa knows that. He just doesn’t care. Using his scarf, he lunges out the window without a care.

He heads straight home, where he knows you know he’ll be waiting for you. And oh boy, once you get home? You are not going to hear the end of it for a long, long time.

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delaber · 4 years ago

Text

Just Friends (Part 9)

Story Summary: After moving to America for a 3-month long internship, you meet two interesting characters on a boring night out.

Word Count: 4.6K

Pairing: Rafael Casal x Reader

Warnings: Alcohol, minor drug use, smut, slight dom!Rafa, swearing, and loads of British references (sorry not sorry lol)

Chapter Note: smut smut smut smut smut smut smmmmmuuuuttt

Tag List: lonelydance mysearchforgratification ramp-it-up blndspotting summerofsnowflakes exrthangel honeysucklechocolatedrippin captaintightpants58

Other Parts: See Masterlist

"What did I tell you?" He laughed as he closed the door behind him, "you don't have to take off your shoes when you're here."

"It's the polite thing to do," you smiled goofily up at him, "what if I stepped in something icky earlier."

"I suppose I'd have to clean the floor tomorrow then," he shrugged, his eyes still bloodshot from the joint, "it's a risk I'd be willing to take."

Easy to giggles, you shot him a laugh.

"You want a drink?" he asked you and held up his index finger, "a quick word of warning; my margarita game is off but I do make a mean Long Island."

You arched an eyebrow at him, "Long Island? Are you trying to get me drunk?"

He sent you a smirk, "Your senses are already dulled from the reefer. How much more could a strong drink possibly do?"

"Okay," you laughed, "Long Island it is then - I do hope it's better than the 'Rafa Special' that you made me on New Years."

"Ouch, you big bully," he pretended to be hurt, "I lay down my guard and show you my true self and this is what it gets me? Some ignorant European tearing apart my cocktail game? I'm telling you; if I had just an ounce of self-respect, you'd be in an Uber on your way home right now!"

"I guess I'm lucky that you're completely spineless," you shrugged.

"Did you just say that?" He put down the lime he'd been holding and sent you a bemused smile.

"Let me just check; uh yes I did."

"Say it again and I'll definitely throw you out," he took a step closer to you trying to look dangerous but failing miserably.

"You're spineless," you whispered.

"One more time for Big Rafa, come on," he motioned a come on sign with his hand, stepping even closer to you.

"Spineless," you squealed and ran away from him as he started running towards you.

"I'll get you for this," he chased you into the living room where he grabbed you around the waist and threw you down on the sofa. He sat down on top of you and grabbed your wrists, "say it again," he urged you, as he easily forced your hands above your head, pinning your wrists together with just one hand. It reminded you of the night after New Years and you became strangely aroused by it.

"Okay, I'll stop," you squealed as he tickled your sides, "just let me go."

He stopped tickling you and went completely still, "never," he leaned in and whispered, lips hovering dangerously close to yours, his right hand warm against your ribs. He could feel your fast heartbeat through your black t-shirt as you made a quick decision and lifted your head up to kiss him softly on the lips.

He gladly reciprocated your tender kiss, looking pained as you withdrew your face after just a couple of seconds.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, "I don't know what just came over me."

Rafa let go of you and got up from the sofa, "Yeah," he cleared his throat, "I'm sorry too," he took your hand and helped you up on your feet, "I'll go mix us those drinks," he said quietly.

While he went to the kitchen, you studied the guys' living room. You had only been in here once before and back then, you had been far too concerned with locating your clothes to really have a look around at the colourful posters and their personal belongings scattered around the room. Your eyes were drawn to a small shelf at the back of the room where miniature figures of Calvin and Hobbes stood. You took Calvin in your hand and examined him more closely before putting the figure back on the shelf, moving along to the next item; a gilded gramophone reading 'National Academy of Recording Arts and Sciences, Daveed Diggs, Principal Soloist, Best Musical Theater Album - 2015, Hamilton (Original Broadway Cast)' along with what appeared to be a Tony award inscribed 'Best Performance by a Featured Actor in a Musical: Daveed Diggs as Marquis de Lafayette/Thomas Jefferson, 2015 - Hamilton.'

You did a double take as you read the text on the two awards again.

Rafa came in with two drinks in hand, "I see you've found Diggs' awards," he smiled, handing you a drink.

"Are these real?"

"Very real," Rafa smirked.

"Why didn't you tell me? I had no idea!"

"I wanted to see how long it took you to figure out where you know us from," he shrugged.

"Were you in this... Hamilton as well?"

"Oh, god no," he laughed, "and by your tone of voice I'm guessing you have no idea what it even is."

"Not a clue," you shook your head and took a big gulp of the drink, "So let me get this straight: Daveed is a hardcore rapper and a Broadway musical star? I never would've guessed that!" you laughed.

"Yeah, remember the first night when you came up to us and you couldn't remember where you'd seen us before?"

"Of course."

"We thought it was a weird trick just to get us to talk to you. Ever since performing in Hamilton, Daveed has been dubbed as America's fast-rapping sweetheart," he rolled his eyes.

"Are you jealous?" you chuckled.

"Not the least. But we can never go out anymore without people feeling the need to constantly come up to him and introduce themselves. It was fun at first but now it's kind of lost its glory."

"So you thought I was a groupie or something?" You laughed, "yeah, your reactions definitely make more sense now."

"Sorry for being a dick," Rafa looked pained, "Sometimes it's necessary when you just want a quiet night out with your best friend."

"So you were a dick on purpose yet you still came over to me and apologised?"

"I did," he laughed, "I thought you were too sassy to just let go. Especially after I realised that you'd been completely innocent and that you actually thought you just knew us from work or something. It was kind of cute so I felt bad for acting like a douche."

"I still feel like I know you from somewhere else apart from that night though," you mumbled.

"Yeah, I know. Come here," Rafa said and took your hand, leading you to a room in another part of the house where you hadn't been before. The room was lined with different recording equipment and movie posters.

"What is this?"

"Our workspace," Rafa said matter-of-factly, "We record music in here or write lyrics, scripts for sketches or plays. You know. Anything creative."

"I've never met anyone with a workspace like this," you took in the room with awe.

"...and this," Rafa continued, "I'm guessing is where you know us from," he pointed to a poster titled Blindspotting with a laughing Daveed and a tough-looking Rafa facing you.

"Yeah! Yeah that's it! I remember seeing this at the movies back home," you said excitedly as you took in the poster. You remembered thinking that the two leads were cute even back then, "so you're a musician slash actor?" you looked back at Rafa who was smiling at you.

"I prefer creative genius, but whatever..." he hugged you from behind, "your term is just as good I guess."

"Why didn't you tell me that I'd probably seen you in a movie."

"You were so unfazed by me and Diggs. And I knew it wouldn't impress you so I kept my mouth shut and told Daveed not to say anything," he snickered from over your shoulder, "I wanted you to spend time with me because you like me. Not because I'm semi-famous."

"I can't believe you thought I was a groupie," you chuckled and leaned into his arms.

"You're so much more," he groaned. His lips brushed against your neck and he kissed you softly below the ear.

His movements brought you back to reality, "Rafa," you sighed, "I know you're drunk and high but we can't be doing this."

"Mmh..." he hummed against you as he pushed your hair aside, his lips still tracing along your neck.

Slowly, you turned around, his arms still around you. "I'm serious," you said.

"I know," he groaned and let his arms fall flat to his sides with a sigh.

"Maybe I should go," you said, "this was clearly a bad idea. And I have to work tomorrow."

"On a Saturday?" he arched an eyebrow at you, "or are you just saying that so you have an excuse to leave early?"

"As I told you; I'm not even halfway done with the project I came here to do, so I actually do have to work tomorrow," you booped his nose, "I'm probably going to be quite busy the next week to be honest."

"So I really won't get to see you?" Rafa furrowed his eyebrows.

"Minimally," you frowned back.

"Okay, I have an idea; since my place is closer to your lab, I'll cut you a deal; how about you stay over, I cook you a nutritious breakfast tomorrow morning and then I take you to work?"

"I don't know," you said even though you really wanted to spend the night.

"No funny business, okay? This time I'm serious," he grinned.

"You said that last time as well," you laughed, "and the time before that."

"Look, I'll even take the couch and let you have my bedroom. I just want to spend the last few hours with you if I won't get to see you for the next couple of days," he shrugged.

"Okay," you gave in, "on one condition!"

"Anything," he said honestly.

"You go for a dip in the pool," you laughed devilishly up at him.

"What, now?"

"Yep!"

"You're not serious?"

"As serious as a heart attack," you said as seriously as you possibly could in your high.

"Okay. If that's what you want," he sighed dramatically before he turned around and discarded his t-shirt in one swift motion.

"Oh, you're really doing this," you laughed as you followed him out to the pool via the sliding doors in the living room next door.

"There's a lot at stake," he said as he pulled off his sneakers and socks.

"So for this you take off your shoes?" you teased him.

"Shut up," he grinned up at you before his hands started unbuckling his belt, his pants falling onto the tiles with a loud clank.

"Okay, I was kidding," you said as he was standing on the edge of the pool wearing only his boxers, "you don't have to do this."

"Oh, I'm not taking any chances. I'm definitely doing this," he said before he took a deep breath and jumped into the freezing water. He emerged spluttering, "shit, it's so cold," he bellowed as he whipped his hair out of his face and took a few strokes, "are you just going to stand up there and admire me?"

"Oh, the deal was for you to jump in. Not me!"

"Boo, you chicken!" he grinned up at you.

"Well, you're not exactly making a single selling point."

"If you don't jump in, you're not allowed to sleep over."

"You're not serious."

"As serious as a heart attack," he grinned up at you, as he mimicked your words from earlier.

"Oh my god. I cannot believe you're making me do this!" You squealed involuntary but ended up taking off your t-shirt and jeans, dipping your toe in the cold water as you stood in front of the pool in just your underwear.

"Just jump in," Rafa laughed, "What you're doing up there is pure torture."

"Okay. You're right," you took a few shallow breaths before counting to three, jumping in the pool close to Rafa. As you emerged, you pushed your hair out of your face, "so cold!" you squealed, "why did we do this?"

"I did it for you," Rafa laughed, treading waters in front of you, "I actually don't find it as bad as I had anticipated."

"You stay then! I'm getting the hell out of here," your teeth clattered as you began climbing the ladder, a laughing Rafa following close behind you.

You were shivering as you reached the top of the ladder, desperately clutching your arms to keep what little warmth you had left.

"Hot shower?" Rafa laughed.

"Yes, please," you nodded and followed Rafa to the bathroom where he turned on the shower for you as you immediately started undressing, ready to step in as soon as the water turned warm.

"It'll only be a minu- Oi!" Rafa said and quickly looked away. He had turned around from the faucet only to be met by you standing in front of him wearing only your soaking panties.

"Oh relax," you rolled your eyes at him, "you've seen me naked before."

"That doesn't mean it isn't just as... exciting," he gulped, desperately looking at the ceiling, "Uh, there are towels over there and I'll - uh - I'll find you something comfortable to wear for afterwards, okay?" he edged out the door still not looking at you. From the other side of the door he bellowed, "Uhm, on second thought. You can just use my bathrobe - if that's alright with you."

"It's fine Rafa," bellowed back with a laugh as you stepped into the warm water.

You stayed in the shower for a couple of minutes until you felt the heat return to your fingers and toes. You quickly dried yourself off, and pulled on the only bathrobe you could find, assuming that it was Rafa's. "That was lovely," you said as you met him in his bedroom. He was wearing the same trackies you'd seen him in before. "No shower?" you lifted your eyebrows at him.

"We have a cold shower by the pool," he said slowly with a laugh, "and I desperately needed it."

"Oh how old are you?” You laughed at him, “you can't even see breasts without getting turned on?"

"Not when they're yours," his face reddened slightly suddenly matching his eyes, "and especially with your nipples all hard like that."

A cold shiver went down your spine. "Yeah, sorry," you ended up saying.

"Oh don't be," he grinned, "it was a marvelous sight that I'll definitely cherish when I'm alone in bed at night," he winked at you, "it just excited me... Excites me now just thinking about it to be honest," he looked away from you with a small grin, clearly uncomfortable in his own skin.

"Yeah me too," you admitted, "it feels stupid to not be allowed to touch when we're so close to each other in so little clothes."

"We could just say 'to hell with it'?" He smirked.

"No, Rafa," you said sternly as you sat down on the edge of his bed.

He sent you a challenging look, "...or we could - you know - just... talk about it if you want to?"

"Talk about what?" you arched an eyebrow at him. Your decision was non-negotiable.

"Just talk for a while about what we'd like to do if the situation was different," he shot you a wink, "That's innocent."

"No it's not?" you laughed, "Not at all."

"I know," he smiled at you, "I'm just trying to get creative. We have to work with what we got, you know."

"Friends don't talk about what sexual stuff they'd like to do to each other," you shot him a look.

"Hey - can we just cut the bullshit for a few seconds?" Rafa said quietly, his Adam's apple bouncing in his throat as he swallowed hard, "don't call us friends when we clearly aren't,"

"Maybe this wasn't a good idea," you looked at him carefully

"You keep saying that," he sighed, "yet you're still here."

You put your hand on his arm, "I'm having a hard time too, you know. You're not the only one who wants this."

He shot you a sideways glance, "why can't we just say to hell with it then?"

"Because I know myself and this is what I have to do if I want to return to England with a somewhat sane mind."

"Whatever you say," he groaned as he threw himself down on the bed, his legs dangling over the side.

You lay down next to him and you put your hand on his chest, playing with the straps of his hoodie. He pulled you close and caressed your back with his fingertips, "do you want me to go sleep on the couch?"

"You can sleep in here with me," you said softly, "I'm going to miss you the next couple of days."

He kissed the top of your head, "yeah, me too," he said, "the last time you stayed over, my pillow smelled like you for days. It was pure torture. But it came at a price; your hair was everywhere. It was like having a dog again," he laughed.

"A small souvenir," you laughed, "sorry."

"I forgive you. But only because you look so soft in my bathrobe," he brushed his fingers over your back, "do you want me to get you a t-shirt to sleep in?"

"Yes please," you said and let him go to his closet where he pulled out an old tee with the words Raiders written on the front.

"A pirate shirt?" you eyed the logo.

Rafa shot back his head and laughed whole-heartedly, "Damn girl, don't you dare disrespect my favourite football team like that."

"You mean American football team. Your favourite football team better be Chelsea!"

"I'll be partial to Chelsea in soccer if you're partial to the Raiders in football."

"I can pretend I like the pirates," you teased him.

"Oh shut up," he chuckled and walked towards the door, "I'll let you get changed," he said and closed the door behind him.

You disrobed and pulled on his Raiders shirt, glad that it covered you like a dress as you didn't have any dry underwear to wear. A short dress albeit, but still a dress.

"Are you decent?" Rafa asked from the other side of the door.

"Yep," you said and let him in.

"Ah!" he said when he saw you in the Raiders shirt, "my favourite girl sporting my favourite team."

"Don't get any ideas," you grinned as you crawled under the covers.

He stripped down to his boxers and joined you under the covers, pulling you close, "just a bit of friendly cuddling," he whispered against your neck, his hand trailing up and down your sides.

"Okay," you whispered back, enjoying his arms around you.

His fingers brushed from your waist and down your sides all the way below the hem of the t-shirt, fingers coming to a halt on your upper thigh. He lifted his head from his pillow and whispered, "are you not wearing any panties?"

"Uhm no," you said sheepishly, "they were all wet from the pool."

You felt the outline of a bulge emerging against your backside right before he pulled back from you with a groan.

You turned around and faced him, "I didn't mean to torture you on purpose," you snickered.

"I know," he said in a strained voice, "just give me a minute to calm down." He blew out some air and stared determined at the ceiling.

"What are you thinking about?" you asked him after a couple of seconds.

"I'm trying to remember all the players on the Raider's team," he said, "and I definitely try not to think about you on top of me."

A familiar warm feeling spread in your abdomen. Now you were thinking about riding him as well.

"Too much?" he looked over at you when you didn't answer him.

"Ehm," you cleared your throat, "no. No, it's a... nice image," you smiled at him, the heat between your legs growing more and more.

"It got to you too, huh?" he laughed at you.

"Uhm, yeah," you said, "it's probably because we're high."

"That Long Island didn't exactly help either."

"Definitely not. It's too bad we're not allowed to touch..."

"Yeah..." he agreed, "we could... you know... just go to sleep."

"Yeah..." you said. His suggestion from earlier about talking dirty to each other without touching flashed in your mind. It wasn’t as if it would break your code. “Or we could just lie here next to each other and talk for a while..."

"Yeah?" he looked over at you with an excited smile, "what do you want to talk about?"

"Definitely not riding you slowly," you grinned, "or your lips around my nipples."

He gulped, "Yeah, and not your mouth around my cock either. Let's not discuss that."

"Or how you feel when you're inside me," you breathed heavily.

"Oh fuck, no, no we definitely can't talk about that. Or how I'd start off by kissing you all over your body. All the way from the top of your head and down your neck, leaving small teasing kisses down your breasts and all the way down to your ankles. And then back up again to your little hotdog," he said darkly.

"Yeah!" you imagined his warm lips against your skin and felt the goosebumps emerge on your arms, "...and we can't discuss how I'd respond to your teasing lips by pulling your hair while I open my legs for you. Or what you'd do next.”

"Well... in that case, we probably shouldn't discuss how I'd bring out my tongue and taste you while my fingers were slowly working their way in and out of you," he panted. You let out a moan as you arched your back and Rafa continued, "yeah, and you'd moan just like that for me."

"But regardless of how good it felt, I'd still push you away from me and get on my knees in front of you."

"Fuck!" Rafa hissed beside you, fighting hard to keep his hands above the covers.

"I'd take you in my hand and lubricate your glistening head with pre-cum before I slowly move my hand up and down you a couple of times to warm you up."

"I'm already warm, love" Rafa chuckled.

"Good! I'd grab you by the root and I'd lick you all the way from the root to the tip, bringing extra attention to that particularly sensitive spot just below your head," you said slowly, "my soft tongue would be all wet and sloppy as I run it up and down your length while I maintain eye contact with you, showing you that you're in complete control of the situation. And I'd make sure to massage your balls as I continue to pleasure you with my mouth," you breathed heavily, "and you'd look down at me and caress my hair while my mouth was full of you, slowly bucking your hips bringing you further down my throat. And I'd groan around you as you hit the back of my throat, sending vibrations all the way up to your balls."

"Okay, fuck it, I can't take this," Rafa said resolutely and pulled the covers away to reveal the enormous erection tugged away in his boxers. He pulled out his cock and started stroking it slowly in front of you with a few shallow breaths. He shot you a look, "not... against... the rules," he panted as he continued to pump his hand up and down his length.

"Well, if you're doing it, I'm doing it!" you said as you spread your legs, your fingers immediately flying to your core as you looked at Rafa's movements. "What happens next?" you panted.

Rafa took a couple of shallow breaths before he continued, "I pull out of your mouth just before I come down your throat because you know I'm close and you beg me to fill you up instead. So I pick you up from the floor and throw you on the bed and you're looking at me with this hungry look. And I kiss your tits while I slide inside you. And you're so warm and so wet for me," he groaned.

You moved your fingers up and down your slit, fidgeting with your clit with your right hand, while your left hand pushed up the Raider's t-shirt and started massaging your nipple. A small moan escaped your lips as you imagined what Rafa was explaining to you, "and you fill me up completely," you panted, "and you turn me around before you slam into me from behind, smacking my ass and pulling my hair. And you're so good that I grow tight around you, begging for you to let me cum."

"Yes," he groaned.

"- and you pull my arms and fixate them around my back so you have the perfect angle to fuck me while I grow tighter and tighter around you as you slide in and out of me. And I feel this raw heat starting in my stomach and it's spreading fast to the rest of my body as you fuck me faster and harder than you ever have before. And you pull my hair and I moan helplessly for you."

Rafa started moving his hand faster and faster as he was looking at you narrating your own orgasm.

"- and when you finally let me topple over the edge, I scream out your name with my release like this; Rafa," you moaned, "oh Rafa".

"Fffffuck," you heard Rafa hiss beside you right before he came with a loud groan, cum staining his stomach and chest, "fuck!" he continued to pant beside you with his eyes screwed shut, cum still leaking from his tip. His hand was still laced around his throbbing cock, but no longer moving when he desperately opened his eyes and turned his head. "Fuck," he repeated when he looked towards you with your fingers still at work.

"Fuck you're hot!" you panted beside him, looking at him as you drew in sharp breaths, your fingertips slowly entering yourself.

Rafa's eyes flooded with lust once more, "Fuck this," he spat, "come here," he took your hand and pulled you on top of him, your back lying flat against his cum-stained chest. His right hand found your core immediately and he started working his long fingers in and out of you while his left hand was circling your clit.

"Not... part of... the plan," you panted on top of him while his fingers moved in and out of you, his lips kissing your throat and neck.

"Oh, do you want me to stop?" he said and removed both of his hands from your throbbing core.

"No!" you whimpered on top of him, moving around desperate for friction.

"Shut the fuck up then," he whispered darkly against your neck as his hands resumed their positions. He worked like this for a couple of minutes while you writhed and moaned on top of him, your walls tightening around his fingers as he kissed and licked your neck.

"Fucking cum for me," he whispered as he hit your g-spot repeatedly and sent you over the edge crying out his name with pleasure.

His hands moved slower and slower, until he pulled his fingers out of you, his palm travelling all the way up your body, coming to a halt as he cupped your breasts lovingly, "I could get used to this," he whispered, kissing your neck and sending shivers down your spine.

You stayed on top of him for a couple of seconds while he continued to caress your breasts and nipples, kissing your neck occasionally with small sounds of affection.

When you had come down completely from your high, you climbed down from him and positioned yourself under the covers. Rafa pulled on his boxers and snuggled up against you.

"That was not part of the plan," you yawned as he held you tight.

"It won't happen again. Now shut up and go to sleep," Rafa smiled against your neck

#rafael casal x reader #rafael casal #daveed diggs #blindspotting #rafael casal imagine #smut #rafael casal fanfiction #bay boys

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halcyon-writings · 4 years ago

Text

family

requested?: yes (anonymous) //tldr, if alucard had a sibling (the reader, of course) dealing with the loss of family, both living and not

note(s)/warning(s): canonical character death, spoilers babyyyyy, violence and injury, angst it’s rare for anyone in this series to have a good time huh?, also for this being that the reader can literally look however you want, imma say Lisa isn’t white bc I do what I want and it’s my fic :) this is also the most i’ve written in a good while omg, im highkey proud so pls don’t let this flop

Lisa Tepes is dead.

Your mother, is dead.

Killed, burned alive. Gone to ashes.

All because the church had believed she was a witch of sorts. Several thoughts dance in the back of your mind as you gaze upon the pyre. Smoldering from the heat, the flames gone. Your father leaving his message, no, his warning, that he would act in one year.

“A farce that was!” You hear a shout, and you force down the bitter laugh, throat tight and eyes burning. Especially so when you slowly begin to hear continued shouts of agreement, from voices previously silent.

Here your mother was, her final resting place. Burned to ashes for some sick show of power.

And you could do nothing as she was mocked for it.

Your fist clenched at your side, you feel your nails cutting into your skin, but you walk away to return home.

And to say that the castle was no less better was an understatement. Your father was most likely in his quarters.

And when you finally sit down, the weight of your weary finally settling against your soul, do you allow yourself cry. Quiet tears turning to sobs as you muffle your voice with a pillow.

You had failed her. Missing the chance to save your mother, too late to have done anything.

But you pause, noticing the presence at your door, your brothers familiar knocking pattern resounding suddenly through the empty hall.

“Come in,” Your voice is embarrassingly raspy. As you clear your throat, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. But it wouldn’t hide the redness of your eyes.

Adrian says nothing, and a part of you wishes he did. His larger hand takes yours. A comforting squeeze.

You blink again feeling your eyes burn, and you squeeze his hand back.

“Father is...” He trails off, no doubt thinking of what he could say next.

“What he plans on doing, it’s not justice.”

You stare up at him, But it would be deserving. A bitter corner of your mind supplies.

While Adrian had taken after Mother in his demeanor, much more kinder, more welcoming. You were no doubt like Father. Reserved, distrusting, easily prone to grudges if you were wronged in some way.

But you bite your tongue.

“He gave them a year,” You murmur after some time, “But no doubt he’s ready to calling his armies.”

At this Adrian turns alarmed. the warmth from his hand slips away.

“We must stop him!”

You’re still reeling from the events from earlier today, and a part of you wishes to have no part in his attempt to try and stop your father. But then you remember your mother.

Her kindness, regardless of how she was viewed for being different.

And your warily stand anyway.

If only you had more sense. Your father remains eerily silent as he embraces you both. His hold tighter, and while Adrian seemed convinced, you saw the dark look in his eyes.

The year had passed. You weren’t surprised to hear of the bloodshed.

It was naive to expect otherwise. While reluctantly following your brother, you can only stand, frozen as your blood feels like ice in your veins as your remaining family clashes.

“No.” Your voice is barely a whisper.

They don’t hear you.

Glass shatters.

And foolishly enough, you rush forward.

With your brother injured and fleeing, and you yourself were not free from any sort of pain.

Stepping in between the two as they fought ended with a gnarly gash on your shoulder, as you fell to your knees and blood slipping past your fingers. Your father stands in front of you, like a protective pillar as your brother stares in shock, quickly wanting to help you in some way.

And then the fight is over. Your brother is gone too.

The castle is much larger and colder now.

As you’re confined to your room, the wound healing into an angry red, then to a muted and dull scar. For a moment you wished it took longer, your father guilty and you were reminded of times you had been sick when you were younger. While you had not been too keen on the typical children’s books, reading theory on physics and other sciences only seemed fun when he would read to you and you’d ask questions in between passages. (Your voice funny from a stuffy nose led to laughter and a small coughing fit but otherwise it was nice).

But now was not the time to reminisce on the happy childhood.

You know you cannot stay. Ultimately, Adrian had been right. Once you feel as though you can move your arm once again, slowly, you begin pack a small bag. You didn’t want to build up any suspicions, finding some money in your room and whenever you could take a few coins or so from your father that he would not miss.

Extra clothes were folded and put away separately.

And you make your escape on a rainy evening, the uneven droplets helping hide your tracks. But you knew now that your father had brought back Hector and Isaac, new generals to help fight in his war, you had to be weary of the night creatures that would no doubt be sent after you.

Well, you were creative. At times flying in a transformed look, no one would suspect a bat in the dark of night afterall. And it was easier to. find good vantage points that way. But to also avoid any people, you didn’t quite trust yourself to not get into an altercation with a bigot.

You rarely slept longer than necessary, especially not when those dreams were memories or nightmares.

Now that you had learned how to walk, you were a right menace. It was an uphill battle in itself to keep you in one place. You were curious and the world you knew (being your father’s vast castle) was huge. Your childlike curiosity was never let down by your adventures.

You laugh quietly, which sounds like small squeaks as you fly up and hide above the gaudy chandeliers. Your father, giant coat gone, hair tied back and in a plain dress shirt and slacks as he searched for a curious toddler.

Snickers continuing as he paces down the hall. You hop down, landing slowly and feet planting into the ground, knees bent. Before you had down the opposite direction.

The lab usually wasn’t a place you could be allowed in on your own. But having heard that your mother was there, you knew it wouldn’t be a problem! So your little legs carried you along. Until you found the familiar doorway.

Dozens of tubes and mechanisms had you turning your head as you wandered in, your shoes tapping against the marble floor.

“Now what brings you here, sweetling?” The warmth of your mother’s voice has you smiling before you see her. As you run forward and hug her side, clutching her dress in your small fists. “Not causing trouble for your father are you?”

You shake your head grin betraying your word, “Nope! I’m not doing any trouble!”

“And how since when did that happen?” She laughs gently.

“Now.”

Your brother looks up from his own books, waving before returning to work. Your nose crinkles, so much for playing experimenting. But before you can say much, your nearly yelp as you’re brought up into the air by a pair of strong arms.

“I’ve found you, little wanderer.” Your father’s voice carries no heat behind it. Then again, he was always soft hearted for you and your brother. But most of all, your mother.

“I’m not little!” You pout, “I’m big now!”

You’re taken away from your reverie at the snap of a twig.

With your lack of sleep, as you had insisted on traveling more, you were less than surprised to have been snuck up on.

“Peace, my friend,” The old man murmurs. You keep your knife in an iron grip in front of you. Who you’re guessing is his son or grandson, has his hands raised the same way, but no weapon to be seen, magic, oh good. Then again, not like you needed a knife when you could make your nails go into claws and the fangs. Don’t forget the fangs.

“I can’t exactly be peaceful when it’s the middle of the night and suddenly figures in blue robes appear out of now where,” You answer dryly. But seeing as how the others behind the main two have not done or said anything noteworthy, nor were their stances make them look like they could really fight, you lower your weapon slightly.

Clearing your throat, “Although, I shouldn’t be swinging my own weapon around either.”

The old man just smiles gently. And you can’t help but be just slightly comforted.

In the end, the speakers stop for the evening. And the Elder, despite looking like a frail old man, is firm in his decision that you stay and “eat properly.” And like a scolded child, you listen. Food and drink all but pushed into your hands as you’re quickly brought into conversation, the previous confrontation all but forgotten.

And then you perk up when he mentions Gresit.

“So... the sleeping soldier,” You begin, slowly chewing on the sweet bread you had been given. “It was true?”

The Elder nods, “My grandchild and a traveller, they had gone to explore it. Well, the traveller had gone to save my grandchild. I will not hide the fact that I was a bit doubtful. But Belmont had proved himself a man of his word. Although, he does need to drink more water.”

You blink, a look of a surprise clear on your face. Belmont...

Fuck.

“Although I hadn’t expected the legend of the sleeping soldier to be realized so quickly.”

At your inquisitive look, the Elder begins to explain. Of a holy warrior beneath Gresit, who would come to save it’s people in their most dire of hours.

“The pair had come up with a man with long hair, like gold.” You couldn’t help but let out the breath you had been holding. So the Belmont didn’t try to kill him. you could breathe a little easier at that fact.

“Where are they now?” You ask, holding the empty cup in your hands, as you stare down as though waiting for something.

Getting your answer, you stand, adjusting your bag over your shoulders. You wave off the concern in staying, if it had already been several days since the Speakers had left Gresit, then you needed to cover a lot of land to get to your brother.

That is, until you saw the expression on the Elder’s face grow stern, as though he was scolding a child. With a heavier bag, one that the Elder insisted that you take some more things you could eat along the way, in exchange you give the Elder a small trinket you had been using to hide from the monsters of your father’s army, you finally set off. While your worries were not completely settled, your shoulders felt lighter. Metaphorically of course.

Of course, giving away the object that kept you hidden made it a bit more, difficult, when it came to trying to hide and travel at night. Much less even try to stop and rest.

It had barely been two days since you had left the speakers, and already, you had run into some trouble, a beastly creature’s claws barely caught on your sleeve, leaving your arm bare as you shuddered from the chill in the air. You can only sigh mournfully, you really liked that coat. But, better your sleeve than say, you actually getting wounded.

Your nails resemble claws, while your free hand holds the dagger in a steady grip. But being surrounded on all sides, it did not look promising.

Well, you thought mournfully, if you died you could at least see your mother again.

Until you hear the sound of what reminds you of a whistle? And then a sword flying through the air, slicing through the night creatures, giving you a chance to get some distance.

You hear the surprised shout of your name, and look up, to see your brother wide eyed, sword now returned to him, and a man and woman standing at his side.

“Um... hi.”

Much to your relief, the night creatures are easily taken care of.

And as you’re finally able to explain your story, you find yourself relaxing into the extra cloak given to you by the Elder.

“You mean you met the Speakers on your journey?!” A woman, petite with short blonde locks, who you learn is named Sypha, asks, and you notice the way her shoulders sag in relief.

You nod, “Yes. They all were safe.” If her shoulders sagged anymore she’d full on be slouching. You leave out the part of leaving a possibly precious trinket with them, not wanting her to think you cursed them or something.

“So you mean to tell me, Dracula, fucking Dracula, had more than one kid? That he actually had a woman not only give him not just one, but two children?” Is incredulously asked next by the scruffy looking man. Trevor, as your brother says.

You only stare in annoyance, sure your father was about to raise an army to annihilate the human populace but he didn’t used to be that way.

Before you can retort with a scathing remark of your own, Sypha elbows him harshly in the side. And you know it hurts from the way he immediately puts a hand where she hit him, eyes widening slightly. Serves him right.

“And what of...” Adrian- no Alucard as he wishes to be called, asks, near hesitant.

“Father?” You ask, arms crossed, “Same old same old. Planning the same amount of destruction here or there.”

As he looks to the snow covered earth, you roll your eyes, “Did you expect anything different?”

It’s quiet, and neither Sypha nor Trevor speak.

“No.”

You all sat around camp quietly for a while after that.

Your lungs feel like they’re being constricted. Your throat burns as you struggle to breathe, claws digging into your skin like knives. Before you’re thrown backwards, landing harshly against the wall. Books fall from the book case and your weapon clatters noisily from the ground.

You take shallow breaths, barely standing before you’re thrown once more. Curse your father’s stature and supernatural strength. You close your eyes, waiting for another attack and at least hoping to brace yourself for it, but it never came.

Instead, your brother stands in front of you, as he and your father remain in a standstill. Sypha and Trevor’s footsteps are rushing towards you three.

It all continues to move so fast, until he stops noticing the painting of your mother, as she had been holding your brother and then you as a baby, and the next thing you know, your father is staked through the heart. And with wobbly legs, you take your sword, and swing. So falls Dracula. But it felt like no victory.

You sit up with an alarmed look, stopping yourself from shouting.

That was... a dream? You rub your eyes, feeling that your cheeks are wet and you sigh.

When you see a shadow looming over you, the light of the fire giving slight visibility, you freeze. Before noticing it’s your brother and not his companions.

“Sorry,” You say, making sure to not look at him, so that he didn’t see your tears.

Quietly, he places his coat over your shoulders, sitting beside you, wrapping his own blanket loosely around his own shoulders. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

You only grip the jacket lapels tighter, shaking slightly as you hiccup, unable to stop yourself from crying again.

He must think it’s because you miss your mother, and you do. But this dream was far different. And you say nothing as he brings you into his arms. Your tears having long since dried when the sun rises moments later. But you find yourself falling asleep as your brother rubs soothing circles on your back, feeling the build up exhaustion finally leaving you.

When you’re awake much later in the day you can’t help but laugh a little when Sypha scolds your brother for being mean enough to make you cry, he didn’t you assure her quick enough, although you’re back to laughing when she then turns around to scold Belmont when he makes another slight comment.

#castlevania netflix x reader #castlevania imagines #castlevania imagine #castlevania netflix imagines #mine

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vv3nti · 4 years ago

Text

i mean it — part one

jj maybank x reader

summary: jj would take the fall for any of his friends, he’s always ready to intervene and save the day. whenever y/n needed his help without question he was ready to move the mountains for her, he would do anything for her even if it meant giving up a lot himself.

warnings: drug usage, soft jj, i didn’t read this over yikes

inspired by the netflix original series the society and the heart-warming scene of jj taking the blame for pope so he could keep his scholarship. there is a chunk of dialogue from the society— all rights to them.

a/n: hello this is my outer banks side-blog you can find my other writing here at @nostalthicc. send some request.

you never want to be the one on the outside looking in but for y/n’s friends that precisely what they were going through. for the last hour or so, kiara, pope, and jj have been posted outside of y/n’s room door waiting for her to let them in and explain what’s going on. she was honestly an open person, so this caught everyone by surprise, what would happen for y/n to spend hours crying in her room? none of them knew what to do or what to expect; that’s why the pogues stayed at her door listening to the horrifying sobs, waiting for john b to get here with some food and drinks.

“what do you mean she won’t come out?” john b asked calmly as he pinched the bridge of his nose, pondering for a solution. food didn’t work, nor did her favorite drink. they needed to get creative because everyone was restless, and jj was ready to kick down the door- this was strongly disapproved by all the pogues. “okay, okay, listen. clearly, she doesn’t want all of us to see her right now, so we send one of us, right?” everyone nodded in agreement before all their eyes trailed to jj.

he rolled her eyes, gesturing john b to give him goods, it was no lie when it came to jj and y/n, the two of them had an unbreakable bond, and they were hoping that would help him get through to the girl. “i’ll call you in an hour.”

once the rest of the pogues were gone, jj slid down the wall, he knocked a few times announcing he was the only one left but still no response. after many failed attempts, he did the only logical thing to do, jj pushed a perfectly rolled blunt under the door.

a few moments later, he heard her hoarse voice. “i don't have a lighter.”

a smirk graced his lips, jj knew weed would do the trick, it always does. he was close to sliding his lighter to y/n, but an idea popped into his head. “if you want it, you gotta open the door.” he hesitantly spoke, hoping it wouldn’t cause her to inclose herself back into the room but to jj's luck y/n opened the door. it was difficult for him to take in her appearance, her hair was a disheveled mess atop her head, her eyes and nose were red from crying, tear stains ran down her cheeks, and y/n had a broken look in her eyes. jj hated seeing his friend like this, he would give anything to see a smile on her face instead of her dull expression.

"stop starring and give me the lighter." y/n held her hand out. "please." she added, not looking the boy in his eyes in fear of him asking her more questions. but she should have none better; this was jj.

"hey, wait, wait, wait." he began, getting onto his feet. "you don't get to lock us out of your room when you're clearly hurting and then act as though nothing happened. uh-uh y/n, not with me. you and i both know i don't work that way."

"well, maybe you should have let kie or pope stay because i have every intention of pretending nothing happened. i'm fine." a scowl was evident on your face, but he knew she was hurting and trying to push him away, he'd done it a thousand times himself.

jj drew a long breath before stepping into the room, noting she didn't try to stop him. "doesn't matter. i'm here, and you are not fine, so tell me what's up."

y/n wanted to tell him, she really did, but none of this was his problem, y/n knew jj already had enough on his plate and didn't need to be plagued with her difficulties- none of them did. she needed to figure this out on her own, the pogues wouldn't help her get out of this one. the smoke from jj's hit drew y/n out of her thoughts, she hadn't even noticed he had made himself right at home on her bed.

"okay, hit me." he leaned towards the girl, handing her the lit blunt. she declined, turning away and dragged her fingers through the mess on her head. "something's definitely wrong, you don't want to smoke. what's going on, you opened the door for my lighter but not to light the blunt? that doesn't make a lick of sense, not one bit. you know you have to light it to smoke it, right?"

his rambling was overwhelming the girl, she couldn't even begin to think when jj wouldn't shut up. of course, she knew she had to light the blunt, she wasn't an idiot, but the consequences that came with the blunt weren't worth it. before jj could send her into another spiraling break down y/n rushed to the bathroom, unintentionally slamming the door. little did she knew it allowed jj the perfect opportunity to get some answers, which he indeed found.

"y/n, i'm not playing this game again, open the door." he hissed while tugging on the doorknob. "the rest aren't here to stop me, i will kick this down." silence. "i know, y/n, i know you're pregnant, just come out."

"i'm scared," she confessed, a sob raking through her body.

"i know, sweetheart, but if you open the door i can help you, we'll figure this out, okay?" jj smiled triumphantly when y/n slowly appeared, but it instantly faded when he regarded her broken stance. quickly he swept her into his arms, holding her in a tight embrace as she cried.

y/n momentarily pulled away. "i fucked up bad, i fucked up so bad. what am i supposed to do?" jj didn't want to engage in such a touchy conversation until she had calmed down and was in the right headspace, so he held onto her tighter, rocking back and forth.

when y/n finally regained herself and dried all her tears, the two were able to sit face to face, one pogue to another, and have the awaited conversation. although y/n would admit it, she was relieved to have the weight lifted off her chest.

"it's not mine, though, right? i don't remember anything, but i've been pretty drunk in the past." the boy teased, earning a small smile from his best friend, a smile he has been waiting to see for ages. y/n threw a pillow at his face claiming this wasn't a joking matter, but jj didn't miss the giggle passing her lips. "seriously, do you know who the father is?"

"i don't ever want you to ask me that question again ." y/n was slightly offended he would even fix his mouth to mutter such a question, but she pushed her offensive away to reply. "just respect that one thing, i don't want him in my baby's life, ever. that's the end of it, don't ever ask me that again."

jj apologized; those were not at all his intentions, but he was curious about who had landed the girl, not many others. he had a few ideas of his own; however, he chose to not further push the subject. he adverted his attention and proposed more simplistic questions, the basics; when did you find out? how did you find out? how are you feeling? do your parents know?

most we easy, straight-forward questions, yet one specifically caught notice. "yes, they know, i needed to ask my mom for guidance, they just want to know who the father is and i can't tell them, i won't tell them, but i fear what will happen if i don't."

"this guy, you really don't want him anywhere near you or your baby?" jj entreated, y/n replied with a nod. she could see the wheels turning in his head, which never resulted in a good idea. "then i'll be the father, i'm the father, simple."

y/n eyes grew the size of saucers, she had no words, no thoughts, all she could do was stare closely at her friend who wore a look of eagerness upon his features. y/n wasn't sure she heard him right. "no, you don't have to do that?"

"why not? jj counted.

she scoffed, rolling her eyes at his attempt. "this isn't like taking the blame for me when i almost blew up the chemistry lab-."

"-god, you owe me so much."

"i'm serious, this isn't a joke, jj." she tucked a few fly-aways behind her air. "it's big, and it's forever. you don't get to say that if you don't mean it." a mix of emotions were coursing through her veins; sadness, confusion, anger, gratitude, hatred. y/n couldn't pinpoint exactly which one, but they all were making her dizzy.

"you're my best friend, and i love you. of course, i mean it." jj placed a light kiss on the top of her head, he often made impulsive decisions especially when they involved the people he loved, but this one felt right. y/n felt right, she had done so much for him, and he was ready to do this for her and the baby. his baby. "i'd do anything for you y/n, and that'll never change, i will do everything to protect the two of you."

she watched with admiration in her eyes as jj explained all the details, she has a new level of respect and love for him, one that can never be replaced. y/n was content; finally, an emotion she never thought would plague her being after she found out the news, she was awaiting the future, but the future didn't have as glorious as plans as the pair hoped for.

jj had convinced y/n it was best if they told her parents as soon as they got home, he didn't want her to face y/f/n and y/m/n's wrath any longer. they were typical, uptight, materialistic kooks, and he had soon how disapproving they could be up close and personal. once they were informed, y/n and jj could better plan for the future, like a doctor's appointment as soon as possible. maybe it didn't go as smoothly as they planned, but at least it was over with.

"a pogue?" y/n's mother gasped, earning a stone-cold glare from her daughter. her father's reaction was much less surprising as if he expected the news. "as if you hanging around them wasn't enough."

"y/m/n, calm down." mr. l/n spoke in a somber tone, sure maybe he wanted to throw around some unkind words of his own, he was keeping his composure together for his daughter's sake. "that's not what we need to focus on." he began, scratching at his chin. "i'll make an appointment with dr. chen on the mainland, we will help you financially, but we expect you two to show some initiative as well."

y/m/n scoffed, her eyes zeroed in of jj, disgust was written on her face. she hated pogues because she used to be one and since she married y/n's father. y/m/n had wholly forgotten where she came from. "we'd be better off sending y/n to live with your aunt, you think he will be able to support y/n and her baby."

"-our baby." jj intervened. "you're not sending her or my baby away. i may be a pogue, but i know better than anyone how important family is, and i will assure i will do everything for these two." y/n's heart clenched as he spoke, she couldn't help but feel guilty for the way her parents were treating him when the baby wasn't even his. he shouldn't have to worry about providing for the baby, none of this was fair, and y/n felt ashamed for allowing jj to do this.

shortly after jj's rant, the two were able to get out of there and away from her mother. now it all came down to somehow explaining this the pogues. the entire drive to the cut y/n kept asking the boy if he was absolutely certain he wanted to go through with this, that there was still time to back out and live his life, but jj continuously assured her this is what he wanted to do, and he wasn't changing his mind.

the group had mixed reactions, which jj and y/n had expected. john b was mainly confused as to how this happened, the pair had never shown a romantic interest in each other, or a sexual one either. many questions plagued through his head, but john b decided to wait because he understood how overwhelming this is for his friends. pope was freaking out, going on about how a baby is a lot of work and it's presence throwing off the dynamic of the group. he shared his troubles with y/n's schooling as well as other minor concerns, pope sounded more like their parents than a friend. and lastly kiara, she was a bit leerier about the subject, she was a hard believer of the no pogue on pogue macking rule and with good reason to. what's done is done, and she made it clear she was the baby's godmother, this caused john b and pope to start bickering about how got to be the godfather.

y/n was happy with her friend's reaction, sure they may not know the entire truth, but the pogues treat her or act any different. it was merely another hardship they'd have to face together because it takes a whole village to raise a child, right? but no all good things last and y/n's pregnancy announcement spread very fast through the outer banks, and it may have caught a certain kook by a bit of a surprise.

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rallamajoop · 4 years ago

Text

...and the unironic joys of better living through chemistry

How do I love Venom: The Hunger, let me count the ways…

It’s by far the shippiest Venom/Eddie story to come out of the character’s heyday. It’s the only story of the era to treat Venom’s violent wild-animal instincts not as an immutable fact, but as something that can be managed. It pulls off an aesthetic like nothing else that was being done at the time.

And then there’s the way it says, Does the world around you seem sinister and foreboding? Do you lie awake at night contemplating metaphorical oceans of despair? Well shit, son – have you considered you may be suffering from a mundane neurochemical imbalance, and a round of the right meds could clear that right up for you?

It does all this without breaking the atmosphere, without a whiff that our story has been interrupted for a Very Special Message about mental health.

In the near-decade since I was first prescribed anti-depressants, I don’t think I’ve read another story that lands the message “Sometimes, it’s not you, it’s just your brain chemistry,” so well.

Fair warning: if you have not read The Hunger, I am about to spoil every major plot point. If you have, well, maybe I can still give you a new appreciation for a few details you might have missed.

It’s a strange book, whatever else you take from it. It’s almost the only thing either author or artist contributed to the Venom canon, and it’s so different stylistically and tonally from the 90′s Venom norm that it feels like a tale from some noir-elseworlds setting instead of 616 canon. When you take risks that big with a property, you leave yourself precious little landing space between 'unmitigated triumph’ and ‘abject failure’: if this book hadn’t absolutely nailed it, I’d be dismissing it as edgy, OOC dreck. Fortunately, if The Hunger is nothing else, it is a story that $&#@ing commits – to basically everything it does.

Now, I'm not going to tell you Venom: The Hunger is a story about overcoming depression, because I don't know whether author Len Kaminski even thought about it that way while working on it. There's always space for other readings, and this one take is not gospel. That said: holy shit is this thing unsubtle with its metaphors. And with that in mind, let’s start by talking a little about Kaminski’s take on Eddie himself.

As I may have mentioned before, I like to divide 90′s Eddie into two broad personas: the Meathead, and the Hobo.

Kaminski’s Eddie nominally belongs in the angsty, long-haired Hobo incarnation, but that’s a bit of a simplification: this version certainly has plenty of angst and plenty of hair to his name – but nowhere, not even at his lowest ebb, does he doubt that he and his Other are meant for each other, which is usually Hobo!Eddie’s primary existential quandary.

He’s also taken up narrating his own life like a hardboiled PI.

So that’s... novel.

The only other time Eddie’s sounded like this is, er, in that one other Venom one-shot Kaminski penned (Seed of Darkness, a prequel that sadly isn’t in The Hunger’s league), so I think we can safely file it under authorial ticks.

Then again, Hobo!Eddie’s always been one melodramatic SOB, so maybe this is just how he’d sound after learning to channel his angst into his poetry. You can’t argue it fits the aesthetic, anyway.

We’d also be remiss not to mention Ed Halsted’s art, which I can only describe as gothic-meets-noir-meets-H.R.-Giger. Never before or since has the alien symbiote looked this alien: twisted with Xenompoph-like ridges and veins.

But Halsted doesn’t treat Venom to all that extra detail in every panel. Instead, the distortion tends to appear when the symbiote is separated from Eddie or out of control – and I doubt you need me to walk you through the symbolic importance of that creative decision. More importantly, Halsted’s art provides exactly the class of visuals that Kaminski’s story needs.

Did I mention this is a horror story? You might be surprised how few Venom stories really fit that genre, but if all those adjectives about Halsted’s style above didn’t clue you in, this is one of them.

Anyway, with that much context covered, let’s get into the main narrative of this thing.

As our first issue opens, Eddie’s world has become a dark and foreboding place. He’s not sleeping, though he mostly brushes this off. (Fun fact: trouble sleeping is one of those under-appreciated symptoms of depression. Additional fun fact: the first doctor ever to suggest I might be suffering from depression was actually a sleep specialist. You can guess how that appointment was going.)

Just to set our scene, here’s all of page 1.

Eddie’s narration has plenty of (ha) venom for his surroundings, but the visuals are here to back him up: panels from Eddie’s POV are edged in twisted, fleshy borders and drained of colour, the people rendered as creepy, goblin-like creatures. A couple of later scenes go even further to contrast Eddie-vision with what everyone else is seeing:

As depictions of depression go this is a little on the nose, but then, you don’t read a comic about a brain-eating alien parasite looking for subtlety, do you?

Eddie doesn’t see himself as depressed, of course. As far as he’s concerned, he’s seeing the world’s true face: it’s everyone else who’s deluding themselves. He’s still got his symbiote, so he’s happy. He’s yet to hit that all-important breaking point where something he can’t brush off goes irrevocably wrong.

But he’s also starting to experience these weird... cravings.

He just can’t put a name to exactly what he’s craving until a routine bar fight with a couple of thugs takes a turn for the horrific.

(I include this panel partly to point out even in The Hunger, the goriest of all 90′s Venom titles, you’re still not going to see brains getting eaten in any graphic detail. We don’t need to to get the horror of the moment across. The 90′s were a more innocent time.)

Eddie himself is horrified when he comes back to himself and realises what he’s done.

Or rather, what his symbiote’s just made him do.

Kaminski doesn’t keep us in suspense about why, though. Eddie may have just done something horrific, but there’s a reason, and it’s as mundane as a vitamin deficiency. He’s bonded to an alien creature, after all, and his symbiote is craving a nutrient which just happens to be found in human brains. And if Eddie can’t or won’t help it meet that need, it’ll do so alone.

Now, giving us that explanation so quickly is an interesting creative decision: this is a horror story, and horror lives in what we don’t know. Wouldn’t it be all the more horrifying had the symbiote been unable to explain what’s going on, leaving Eddie without the first real clue as to where this monstrous new hunger had come from?

The Hunger doesn’t take that route though, and I love it. Eddie isn’t a monster, this isn’t his fault: he has a fucking condition, and wallowing in his own moral failings is going to get him nowhere. You might as well try to cure scurvy or rickets with positive thinking. Just like depression can make you feel like an utter failure at the most basic parts of being human, and all the affirmations in the world won’t fix it when it’s fundamentally your brain chemistry that’s the problem. Or like addicts aren’t weak-willed for struggling not to relapse, they’re dealing with genuine chemical dependency – or even like how someone who’s trans isn’t at fault for being unable to reconcile themselves to the bodies and the hormones they were born with by pure force of trying. Free will is more than an illusion, but we’re all messy, biological organisms underneath, and your own brain and biochemistry can and will fuck you over in a hundred wildly different ways for as many wildly different reasons and it’s not your fault.

We aren’t monsters. But if we do, sometimes, find ourselves identifying with the monster, there might be a reason for that.

(Ahem)

I’m just saying, that’s fucking powerful, and we need more stories that say it.

Anyway, in case you missed it during that tangent, issue #1 closes with the symbiote having torn Eddie’s heart in two itself free to go hunting brains without him.

I’m trying not to get too sidetracked at this point talking about Kaminski’s take on the symbiote itself. Suffice to say there are broadly two schools of thought on how it ought to function while separated from its host: the traditional ambulatory-slime-puddle version, and the more recently popular alternative where anything-you-can-do-with-a-host-you-can-also-do-without-one. I’m not much of a fan of the latter, personally: if your symbiote doesn’t actually need a host, I feel you’ve sort of missed the point. (The movie takes the route of saying symbiotes can’t even process Earth’s atmosphere without a host, which is a great new idea that appears nowhere in the comics, and I love it. Hosts or GTFO, baby!)

Kaminski has his own take, and I can only wish it had caught on. Without Eddie, the symbiote becomes an ever-shifting insectoid-tentacle-snake-monstrosity, driven by an animalistic hunger. It’s many things, but it’s never humanoid.

If you absolutely must have your symbiote operating minus a host, I feel this is the way to do it: semi-feral, shapeless and completely alien (uncontrollable violence and cravings for brains to be added to taste).

Issue #2 comes to us primarily through the perspective of the mild-mannered Dr. Thaddeus Paine of the Innsmouth Hills Sanitarium (yes, really).

Yeah, he’s not fooling anyone. Meet our official villain! He joins our story after Eddie is picked up by the police and handed off to the nearest available institution, on account of how completely sane and rational he’s been acting.

Naturally, Dr. Paine soon has copious notes on Eddie’s ‘crazy’ story about his psychic link to a brain-eating alien monster. Fortunately for Eddie, Paine also runs some tests and makes an interesting discovery.

Congratulations, Venom: the ‘vitamin’ you were missing officially has a name!

Finding the right meds isn’t always this easy. I got lucky – the first ones my psych put me on worked pretty well – but I have plenty of friends who weren't so lucky. In fact, the treatment for Eddie's problems is so straightforward it arguably has more in common with, say, endocrine disorders like thyroid conditions or Addison’s disease, which differ from clinical depression but present many similar symptoms (but can sadly be just as much of a bitch to get correctly diagnosed – please do read author Maggie Stiefvater’s account of the latter when you get the chance, because forget Venom, that is a horror story).

‘True’ depression remains much less well understood by medicine, either in its causes or how to effectively treat it. But simply having a name for what was wrong with me made so much difference, and that’s an experience I imagine anyone who’s dealt with any long undiagnosed medical condition could relate to. It put my life in context in a way nothing else had in years.

(I can’t speak to the accuracy of the way phenethylamine is portrayed in this comic – a quick google suggests there may be some real debate that phenethylamine deficiencies have been overlooked as a contributor to clinical depression, but having no medical background, that one’s well beyond me. Either way, scientific accuracy really doesn’t matter in this context – it’s how it works in-universe for story purposes that we should pay attention to.)

Since this issue is mostly from Paine’s POV, we don’t get Eddie’s reaction to having a healthy amount of phenethylamine sloshing around in his brain again, just the assurance that treatment appears to be ‘completely successful’.

He’s still a paranoid, hostile bastard though. Meds can turn your life around, but they won’t make you not you.

But even if Eddie’s feeling better, he’s still psychically linked to someone who isn’t. Symbiote-vision still comes through drained of colour and edged in viscera.

That’s the thing about meds: they won’t solve all your problems overnight. If you’ve been depressed for a while, there are good odds you have problems stacking up. But working meds can be a godsend when it comes to getting you into a space where you can deal with your problems again, whether said problems are doing-your-laundry or all the way into not-giving-up-completely-and-just-accepting-you’ll-die-alone-on-the-street.

For Eddie, ‘dealing with his problems’ begins with stealing a keycard and busting out of the asylum.

Of course, that’s the easy part. How do you solve a problem like a feral symbiote? Like any good 90′s comic book protagonist, Eddie tackles it by putting on his big-boy camouflage pants and kitting himself out with weapons and pouches while quoting “If you live something, set it free. If it doesn’t come back, hunt it down.”

We can add this to the list of things I love about this comic. Even if The Hunger is a weirdly-stylistic tract about depression at heart, it’s also still a goddamn 90′s Venom comic, and not ashamed to be.

We’re into issue #3 now, and back to hearing the story from Eddie’s POV.

Eddie is very much aware that his symbiote has murdered innocent people while they’ve been separated. Even if this is the result of extreme circumstances, there’s a good case to be made that the symbiote is too dangerous to be allowed to live. Plenty of heroes would treat it like a rabid dog at this point.

But Eddie isn’t a hero, he’s a mess of a character and an anti-hero at best, so we don’t have to hold him to the same standard. He’s well aware his symbiote may be too far gone to save, that he may have to put it down – but that’s only his backup plan. He wants to help it. He wants it back. He’s down in that sewer with screamers and a flamethrower because he knows all his symbiote’s weaknesses, but he’s also carrying a large jar of black-market synthesised phenethylamine, because if he can just get close enough...

Depression can’t make you a literal monster, but it can make you an asshole. Miserable to be around, lacking even the energy to care who else you’re hurting. The depression doesn’t excuse that, but it makes everything harder, and it’s that much easier to sink back into your spiral when everyone around you has given up. It can make you think everyone around has given up even if that isn’t true.

So to have Eddie here say, in effect, I don’t care how many people you’ve eaten, I know it wasn’t your fault. I still love you. You’re still worth fighting for – god, does that get me right in the id.

There’s still a whole issue left at this point – we’ve still got to deal with our real villain, Dr. Paine, who we’ve just learned is into eating brains himself and torturing his patients recreationally, and who wants to capture the symbiote for his own purposes. There’s the scene where Eddie and his symbiote finally bond again, and Venom beats up all Paine’s goons while singing David Bowie because like I said, this is still a 90′s superhero comic and this is what Venom does.

But for our purposes, I'm going to skip to the penultimate page of the story, because the way it mirrors our opening page is really lovely.

Remember that shot of Eddie dealing with a beggar back at the beginning of the story, thinking about how these people would 'get their despair all over you'? Here he is again, cheerfully forking over the last dollar in his pocket to the next man to ask him for change. For all the gothic atmosphere and gore, it’s moments like this that make The Hunger easily one of the most positive, uplifting Venom stories ever written. Funny, that. (I could probably write a whole other essay on sympathy for the homeless as a recurring motif in Venom stories, but that... well, whole other essay and all that.)

What’s Eddie learned from this experience? Don’t take your symbiote for granted. Is ‘symbiote’ a metaphor for mental health here, is paying attention to its needs an allegory for paying attention to your own? I still don’t know how literally Kaminski meant us to take this, but it’s a lovely note to end on no matter how you parse it.

At the end of the day, The Hunger isn’t flawless. The conflict with Paine ends on a thematic but slightly unsatisfying note. Eddie makes much of his symbiote's loneliness and desire for union, but when the two of them are finally reunited, the only reaction comes from Eddie's side. In fact, the symbiote seems to have no response to being able to return to Eddie at all, and that’s an omission that bugs me.

But Kaminski is more interested than any other writer of the era in the truly alien nature of the symbiote, in its relationship with Eddie from Eddie’s side, and though plenty of others talk about the symbiote's love/hate relationship with Spider-man, no-one else had the guts to portray their relationship this much like a romance.

And Venom: The Hunger is no less interesting in the context of Len Kaminski’s other work. You don't have to look far into his Marvel and DC credits to pick up that the guy has a real thing for monsters. (“All of my favourite characters are outlaws, misfits, anti-heroes,” he says, in one of the very few interviews I could find with him, “I wouldn't know what to do with Superman.”) He's written for vampires, werewolves, victims of mad science, and all of three at once, littering his work with biochemistry-themed technobabble, melodramatic monologues, gratuitous pop-culture references, and protagonists who must learn to embrace their inner demons. So The Hunger represents more than a few of his favourite running themes.

For our context, his more notable other work includes Children of the Beast, in which a werewolf must make peace between his human and animalistic sides, and The Creeper, in which a journalist must make peace with the crazy super-powered alter-ego sharing his body. In fact, The Creeper and The Hunger share so much DNA (including an evil doctor posing as a respected psychiatrist who uses hypnosis on our hero while he's trapped in a mental institution) that it’s quite the achievement that they still feel like such very distinct entities beyond that point.

The human alter-egos of both werewolf and Creeper even use prescription meds while wrestling with their respective dark sides. The difference, in both cases, is that these are stories where meds play their traditional fictional role – and that's a role that could be as easily filled by illegal drugs or alcohol without making any substantive difference. You see, if a protagonist is using them, it's a sign of unwillingness to tackle their 'real' problems. Even among work by the same author in the same genre, The Hunger represents an outlier. And that's just a little disappointing – at least to me.

In real life, of course, prescription meds are no magical cure-all elixir. Depression meds that work for one person may not work for another, or may not keep working in the longer term. Everyone has heard stories about quack doctors who prescribe them to the wrong patients for the wrong reasons, about lives ruined by addictions to prescription painkillers, or the supposedly-damning statistics about how poorly SSRI's perform in rigorous clinical trials. The proper way to treat depression is obviously with lifestyle and therapy. People will still airily dismiss medications that we all know previous generations got along just fine without, or suggest that figures like Van Gogh would never have created great art if they hadn't been mad enough to slice off an ear. I mean, the fact you think you need those bogus mediations is probably the best possible sign of just how broken you are, right? Who do you think you’re kidding?

Our popular fiction loves stories about manly men who bury their trauma under a gruff, anti-social exterior and come back swinging at the world that broke them, bravely refusing even painkillers that might dull their manly reflexes. Other genres make space for broken people confronting their demons in grand moments of catharsis, finally breaking down into tears when someone gets through to make them face their problems. "I could barely make it out of bed in the mornings until I found a doctor who started me on this new prescription" is not only wildly counter to the accepted social narrative, it's a hard thing to know how to dramatise.

Even other Venom comics have been guilty of this.

Believe me, I recognise all of this, and just how much progress we've made in the last few decades. But I haven't the slightest doubt that for so many vulnerable people, the stigma against prescription medications does infinitely more harm than those same meds could ever do. And just having the right to externalise my problems into it's not you, it's your brain chemistry, may have helped me more than the meds themselves.

(And again, no, being prescribed SSRI's didn't fix me overnight, but I honestly don't know if all the talk therapy and tearful conversations with family members in the world could've got me as far as I've come without them.)

I love Venom: The Hunger. It's no-one's idea of high art, but it doesn’t need to be. There is a whole other post’s worth of things I love about it that I’ve already cut out this one as pointless tangents, and that may actually be it’s biggest drawback as a go-to example: I fully recognise that I would not be making this post if The Hunger hadn't also also grabbed me as a great bit of Venom canon, being the massive fan and shipper that I am. Other people who are just as desperate as me for more stories with the same core theme, but not into weird 90's comics about needy goo aliens, probably won't get nearly as much out of it as I have.

But if it sounds anything like your jam, maybe you'll enjoy it as much as I did.

If nothing else, it proves that you can make a viscerally satisfying story out of a message that shockingly unconventional. And you may even have people still discovering it and falling in love with it 25 years after the fact.

#Venom: The Hunger #Venom #depression #SSRIs #Symbrock #Venom meta #meta #Venom comics #Len Kaminski

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thr-333 · 4 years ago

Text

Mismatch- Part 15

Bio Dad Bruce Wayne Month 2020

Time for Batman to regret all his life decisions!

First< Previous > Next

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“Are you sure you're ready for patrol,” Marinette presses, Marion tries not to roll his eyes once again.

“Yes Nette my ribs are perfectly fine, I can manage,” Marion pulls up his mask, hiding away in an alley not far from the hospital, “besides I need to let off some steam from yesterday,”

“Punching people is no way to deal with your emotions,” Marinette scolds, hiding the Kwamis away in her small bag.

“Of course not,” Marion makes sure the miracle box is in place before swinging his satchel over his back, “Kicking can do far more damage,”

“You don’t deserve an answer for that one,” Marinette sighs, handing over his glasses, “Just make a portal already,”

“Absolutely not,” Kaalki flies out of her bag, “I refuse to be a taxi you can easily get there on your own,”

“Kaalki, the meeting point is halfway across the city,” Marion pleads, the Kwami only turns her nose up at him, “What are we meant to do? Take an actual taxi?”

“I can't believe we’re taking a taxi to meet the Batman for patrol,” Marinette mutters, as Marion tries to hail a cab.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Marion scoffs, another cab surprisingly passing up the opportunity to drive two masked figures late at night, “We’re taking a taxi to a block away from the meeting point, only amateurs give away their position like that,”

“Really not my point,” Marinette adjusts her bag strap.

“Maybe we can ask Batman if we can keep the grappling hooks?” Marion suggests, a cab pulling up to the curve.

“We’d still have to go a long way, it’s not like our suits where we get increased stamina,” Marinette opens the door, sliding into the car before it can’t leave without them, telling the driver the destination.

“Oh the days where we could get across the city in five minutes,” Marion sighs dreamily, ignoring the balding drivers' sideways glance as he pulls away.

“You mean yesterday?” Marinette teases, sitting behind the driver.

“Really? Feels like a week,” Marion leans back in the seat, cringing at the smell of cigarette smoke.

“You two heroes, rogues or villains?” The driver interrupts, sizing them up in the mirror.

“Is there a price difference?” Marion questions, quirk to his lips.

“Sure is,” The driver grunts, eyes still uncertain if there were any ill intentions.

“Do I have to guess which one?” Marion gets elbowed by Marinette.

“Stop that,” She digs her elbow in further, “We’re vigilantes passing through town, running with Batman for the time being,”

“So he’s gone and picked up new kids?” The driver snorts, finally taking his eyes off them.

“We’re not his kids,” Marinette assures, nope no more surprise parents for them thank you.

“Not more Robins? you’ve got the colors,” The driver says gruffly, sharp corner sending them both off balance.

“Unfortunately only Sparrow here wears tights,” Marion gestures to Marinette, “I just don’t fit the bill,”

“Sparrow?” The driver repeats cynically, he should have heard the ones Batman shot down.

“Yeah she has a codename, but I still can’t decide mine, any ideas,” Marion leans over the passenger seat in front of him.

“You’re asking me?” He snorts, Marinette just shakes her head.

“Always looking for public opinion,” Marion shrugs, only getting a sideways glance his way.

“Bat boy,” The driver decides, Marion stifles a laugh.

“Wow, that's terrible,” Marion doesn’t catch himself in time to stop, but adds, “No offence,”

“You’re going to have to look elsewhere for creativity, boy,” The driver shrugs, not seeming bothered by his bluntness.

“What do you think of Shelley?” Marion does get a look his way this time, grinning at it.

“Shelley?”

“Yeah as in the Shelley Starling, small, blue and orange, from Africa,” Apparently Marion's extra details do nothing to convince him.

“You want to be called Shelley?”

“Yeah can’t you just picture it, ‘Batman and Shelley save the day’,” Marion gestures to an imaginary headline.

“And you thought Bat Boy was bad,” The driver shakes his head, trying to hide his amusement, “Do whatever you want kid,”

“Can I tell Batman I got your approval?” Marion grins, leaning further into the drivers space.

“Don’t bring me into this,” His gruff tone doesn’t hide his smile as he slows to a stop, “Now get out,”

“Thank you very much sir, sorry about him,” Marinette pushes Marion out of the car, handing over what they owed him

“Just call me Norris, see ya round, Sparrow... Shelley,” Marion beams at him, Norris shaking his head but smiling none the less.

“Bye!” Marion waves as the car drives away, “I like him, what are the chances we see him again?”

“Zero,” Marinette predicts, walking towards the meeting point.

“Where have you two been?” Batman demands more than asks the second they land on the rooftop.

“Hospital,”

“Family business,”

“....”

“Well, we’re clearly not telepathic,” Marion bumps their shoulders, moving to stand next to Batman.

“Sorry, about missing patrol, it's been… hectic the last few days,” Marinette explains, both hoping they won't pry further.

“Right... Sparrow you’re with me on a stake out,” Batman declares, turning to Marion, “You’re with Nightwing and Robin,”

“You got it,” Marion does a mocking salute, turning on his heels towards them.

As he reacquaints himself with the grappling hook, he gets the run down from Nightwing on where their patrol will go. Marion suspected it wasn't their regular patrol route as they start swinging across the city. He says hi to Oracle and Spoiler on the comms. Disappointed that Red Hood wasn't there tonight, but on the plus side he was less likely to get stabbed… or crash through another window.... or fall off a building.... or-

“There's a mugging three blocks to the east,” Oracle informs, the three of them immediately changing their route.

“We still need to decide on your codename,” Nightwing pipes up, once they start a steady pace towards the mugging.

“Not again,” Robin mutters, Marion grins catching himself in free fall.

“I have a few ideas,” And then because he can’t help himself, “Robin what do you think?”

“Tt, you should take this more seriously, so as not to seem like a complete fool,” Robin scoffs, landing perfectly on the edge of a building, a mugger holding another man at gun point just below.

“Hm, it's a bit long for a codename,” Marion drops down into the alley with them, landing on a garbage skip without a sound, “How about just Fool?”

The mugger turns around, startling at Marion and Robin blocking his exit, Robin scowls, hand twitching towards his katana. Either because of the mugger raising his gun or Marion is undecided.

“Maybe not,” Nightwing stands between the Mugger and the victim. Concerned look apparently deciding Robin’s scowl was aimed at him after all. “What were you thinking?”

If he was trying to redirect the conversation away from murder, boy did he choose a bad way to do it.

“Pterodactyl,” Marion grins as the mugger can’t decide who to point his gun at.

“Why!” Robin spins to him, catching Marion's full attention.

“I don’t know,” Marion shrugs, unconcerned with the mugger pointing at him edging forward, “Their closest living relatives are birds, right?”

“That doesn't mean-” Robin lunges forward as the mugger tries to escape.

“-You act like an immature child,” Robin insults, moving to disarm the gun, “Completely lacking professionalism, you actually sang while apprehending criminals,”

“I see it as more a testament to my skill that I can multitask,” Marion dismisses, coming up behind the mugger as Robin distracts him.

“You were almost stabbed several times,” The whites of the domino mask narrow, removing the gun from the mugger's grip.

“And yet I won without a scratch,” Marion sends back a smirk, grabbing the hand that goes to punch Robin taking the mugger off guard, Robin kicks him to the ground.

“If you like singing, how about Songbird?” Nightwing attempts to interrupt Robin’s likely plans to change his ‘without a scratch’ claim.

“I don’t know, there's a taxi driver I met who’s really attached to Shelley,” Marion tries not to give away his excitement at how perfect the name is.

“I’m sure he’ll survive,” Robin deadpans, zip tying the muggers hands as he struggles.

“Hm… sure sounds good,” Marion shrugs, almost bouncing with excitement, This is gonna be fun .

“Then I guess congratulations are in order, Songbird,” Nightwing slings an arm around him, ruffling his hair.

“You hear that?” Marion looks down at the mugger, “Now you get to tell the Police who took you down,”

“Robin?” The man asks, smug smirk on Robin's face.

Songbird steps out of Nightwing's hold. Picks up the mugger easily, as he shouts and struggles in his grasp. It takes slightly more effort to throw him into the open garbage skip next to them, letting the mugger land on the piles of trash.

“Tt, are you a complete child?” Robin scoffs, having to look up at him.

“Really? What are you like nine?” Songbird smirks at his irritation, ignoring the crook yelling.

“ No I am not ,” Robin hisses.

“Sorry, eight,” Songbird’s instincts tell him to take a few steps back, he doesn't listen.

“That wasn’t very professional,” Nightwing’s disapproval showing through his expression, Marion can’t quite shake off the feeling of a disappointed big brother.

“Hm? What? Oh!” He looks towards the mugger that's still shouting at him, whatever, professionalism was for Ladybug, “Oh no I dropped them! I was carrying them with the utmost care then I went and accidentally dropped them!”

Songbird smacks his forehead, schooling the grin off his face. In much the same way Nightwing is clearly trying to.

“I’m such a klutz- let me try and get them out,” Marion slams the lid shut with an echoing bang, “Oh no! My bad, how can I be so uncoordinated? Whatever will I do now!”

“You are strange,” Robin informs, sending out his grappling hook.

“Thank you, it’s a goal of mine,” Songbird bows, sirens can be heard in the distance now.

He double checks the victim that Nightwing has been covering. Smiling brightly at their slight smile. With a little wave he swings out the alley, following Nightwing and Robin.

After continuing on route for a while longer, stopping minor crimes they stop for a mid patrol snack.

“Number one rule don't stand on a ledge, I have poor impulse control and I will push you,” Marion warns before they sit down on the rooftop.

“What are you a cat?” Robin scowls, in the danger zone.

“Absolutely,” Marion’s grin is feral, Robin’s scowl deepens as he comes to join them.

“What is that?” Marion gasps in horror at the boring grey brick Robin unwraps.

“An energy bar, it’s more effective than your trash,” Robin scoffs, tucking the wrapper away.

“What do ya mean,” Nightwing and Songbird mumble out through mouthfuls of baked goods.

Robin presumably rolls his eyes under the mask. Leaning in to take a bite of the energy bar. Marion slaps it out his hand.

“Hey!” Robin shouts, as it drops to the ground.

“It touched Gotham, it’s contaminated now,” Marion shrugs, giving Robin pause before he picks it back up.

“I am resistant to a few germs,” Robin says condescendingly, picking the bar back up.

“In Gotham ?” Marion stresses, making him pause again, looking consideringly at the before throwing it away.

He brings out another identical one. Marion doesn't even let him unwrap it before he makes a grab for it. Robin’s expecting it this time and jerks it out of his reach. However years with the miraculous has enhanced his reflexes, Marion’s other hand snatching it. With a little enhanced strength Marion throws it over the edge of the building into the street.

“So what I can’t eat?” Robin bites, hand moving towards his katana.

“Of course you can,” Marion holds out a macaron, “Here,”

“Absolutely not,” Robin glares, Nightwing leaning back to watch the exchange.

“It’s good,” Marion goads, shifting closer.

“I’ve had enough of Nightwing's overly sweet patrol snacks to know that is not true,” Robin scoffs, even as Marion moves close enough that he must be able to smell the treat.

“Yes but this is mine and I know for a fact it’s good enough for the gods,” Except for one particularly picky god who once made him attempt camembert macarons. Needless to say, no one else liked them.

“You overestimate yourself,” Robin scoffs, turning away from Marion, he’d bet to try and avoid the tantalising smell.

“Prove me wrong,” Marion challenges, and can tell from the shift in body language he had him.

With one last glare, Robin snatches the macaron. Regarding it skeptically.

“How do I know it’s not poisoned,”

“Oh for the love of-” Marion takes it back, breaking it in half rather than biting.

He hands one half back and eats the other. Robin doesn't take a bite before he stops chewing. Marion opens his mouth to show the mushed up food for good measure.

“Tt, disgusting,” Robin sneers, turning away to eat the last half, “... this is not,”

“Not what?” Marion teases, despite having a soft smile at Robin's expression, before it turns to a scowl.

“It is better than the trash Nightwing eats,” Robin concedes, too late, he had already given himself away.

“Hey!” Nightwing exclaims, but Marion moves quick as a cat to stuff a macaron in his left open mouth. He startles, before chewing, “... alright… never mind…. Wow,”

Marion hands Nightwing another before he has to ask, getting a downright envious look from Robin. With a smile Marion breaks another macaron in half, handing the bigger half to Robin. He takes it, biting it in half again, clearly trying to control his features to seem indifferent, and failing.

“It’s so good to see you actually enjoying something,” Nightwing pulls Robin into a hug, the latter scowling but not moving away. Marion grin widens, getting Robbin to narrow his eyes.

“What?” He demands, completely failing at being threatening while getting cuddled.

“Nothing,” Marion’s smile suggests otherwise, “Are you two brothers?”

The both startle at the question, shifting slightly away from each other. As if they were about to give away their identities.

“... yes,” Robin admits, faint blush would probably go unnoticed by someone without pseudo-night vision.

“Awe! Little D!” Nightwing brings him back into a much tighter hug, that Robin does try to get out of.

“Lets’ go,” Robin stands, blush probably visible even without night vision.

Marion grins, apparently teasing enough that Robin feels the need to defend himself. They argue and tease as they swing off into the night to resume patrol.

Marinette shifts, joints popping after being crouched for so long. Stake outs weren’t her typical affair as Ladybug but it seemed Sparrow will need to get used to them. She and Batman don’t talk, both focusing on the building below watching for activity. The silence makes the chatter on the comms all the more louder.

“We still need to decide on your codename,”

Marinette tries to hold back a laugh when Batman reaches up to turn off his comm faster than even she ever could as Ladybug. She follows suit, not wanting to burst out laughing when they were meant to be hidden. Marinette tries to stay focused on the warehouse in front of them but the architecture of nearby buildings has her itching to grab her sketchbook.

“Why did you ask me to join the stake out?” She asks Batman, before she gives into the urge to vent her designs.

“Do you honestly think he would sit still,” The avoidance of any codename doesn't go unnoticed by her.

“No he wouldn't,” She smiles, mischief dancing in her eyes, “You just didn’t want to put up with codename again did you?”

She only gets a grunt in response, making her smile widen. Before long she's bored again. That short exchange can only sustain her for so long, sitting still on a cold Gotham rooftop. This wasn’t what she wanted to do tonight, it was meant to be a way to release energy not gather it sitting still all day and night. Marion was out in the city forgetting about his problems, letting them fall as he leapt from building to building. She was meant to be doing the same. In free fall, focusing on the next building to catch her rather than how to adjust to her new chaotic family.

“Who trained you?” Batman questions, halting Marinette's fidgeting, “Robin wouldn’t stop talking about it after your last patrol,”

That was strange. At the time he had seemed mad she took down all the gang members before he got the chance. Maybe that was just his default state.

“I was trained by master- my master I was trained by my master,” Marinette breaks herself out of her thoughts, stumbling over words.

“Was?” Batman prods, Now looking towards her, and thankfully ignoring her stuttering.

“Yeah, he… left about four years ago,” Marinette considers her words. It’s not that she didn’t trust Batman, but secret identities were so for a reason and any detail could reveal them to the worlds greatest detective.

“When did he start teaching you?” At least it didn’t seem like he was directly trying to figure out her identity, and it was nice to have a distraction. Even if it was just more talking, at least it was talking about something else.

“He never really taught us, per say, our city needed us so we stepped up,” After some hesitation on her part, but Marion had dragged her along anyway, not letting her give up for even a second, “He guided us from afar for a while until we needed to meet him,”

“You were protecting a whole city alone?” Batman's concern is not easily ignored.

“Not alone, we have each other,” Marinette corrects, plus sometimes other miraculous holders, but that would be giving away a bit too much, “We’re still protecting it, that's why we missed patrol, it’s not like we could have just quit, our home needs protection,”

It was partly true, they did leave to protect paris last time.

“.... It seems I’ve underestimated you,” Batman admits, glaring at the skyline “Clearly you are more…. Responsible than I assumed,”

You don’t know the half of it , Marinette thinks, smiling to herself. The silence they fall back into is a peaceful one. Marinette tries to ignore her thoughts, clearing her head to focus on the task at hand. She is just starting to master her thoughts when trucks pulls up, several people jumping out, working together to carry crates stacked in the trucks.

“I’ll call in the others,” Batman whispers, as more people come out to meet them, about thirty people so far with possibly more inside.

Marinette clicks her comm back on to hear the echo of Batman’s voice telling Marion's group to head their way. Within ten minutes Marion, Nightwing and Robin have joined them on the roof, studying the last of the crates being carried inside.

“We'll go in ahead, Sparrow you and your partner wait for my signal and be prepared as backup,” Batman instructs, preparing to jump across the street.

“Songbird,” Marion interrupts, Batman’s gaze snapping to him, “Decided on a codename,”

“That's… acceptable,” Batman concedes, Marion's grin growing manic.

Without another word the three bats swing across the street, crashing through the warehouse windows. She turns off the communicator so they can’t hear them but they can still hear Batman.

“I’m surprise you went with something- at least for you- normal,” Marinette doesn't take her eyes off the flashes of gunfire and shouting coming from inside, “I mean I know singing is your thing and everything, but still,”

“Dear Sister you underestimate me,” Marinette doesn't need to look at him to know what kind of face he’s making, “For you see I have a master plan, so grand it will make my name known to all,”

“And make Batman regret inviting us?” Marinette guesses, eyebrow raised.

“And make Batman regret inviting us,” Marion parrots, smile evident in his tone, “Do you have a speaker?”

Batman knocks the gun out of the nearest criminals hand. An uppercut sending them to the floor for a while. He’s right in the thick of the crowd, back to back with Nightwing, while Robin picks off those on the outer edges.

“I’m going to bring them in,” Batman alerts Nightwing, His communicator off so they don’t come in early.

“Are you sure they can handle this?” Nightwing hits his attacker over the head, disorientating them, “Red Robin will be here soon, there's no need to put rookie’s at risk,”

“They are very capable,” Batman defends in both senses, blocking the oncoming punch.

If Sparrow was telling the truth, which he was sure she was, they had single handedly been protecting an entire city for years. Even if it wasn’t as crime ridden as Gotham it was clear from what little they have said that there is something more going on, perhaps a few villains. What is worse is how young they are. Not even Robin, who has been training all his life, was allowed to patrol by himself. From the sounds of it they could have very well been protecting an entire city single handedly at his age. They could certainly handle a thirty something gang members.

“Sparrow, Songbird, now,” Batman flicks on his communicator, getting confirmation.

Not a hint of fear at the prospect of barging into a heavily armed base. They certainly didn’t seem cocky, confident yes, but they have the skill to back it up. Despite everything, they knew how to take the job seriously and are responsible enough to treat it with care and respect.

The sound of glass shattering is almost drowned out by the sudden blast of music. Eerily familiar tune to a pirate movie Dick had once insisted they all watch together.

“Captain Jack Sparrow is here!” Sparrow hits the ground, landing a punch on the way down.

“Yo-ho Yo-ho A pirate's life for me!” Songbird… sings… of course. As he swings into the room disappearing into a cluster of criminals, not that anyone could mistake where he was as he keeps singing at the top of his lungs. "We pillage we plunder we rifle and loot!"

Batman pauses to watch like many other criminals. "Drink up me 'earties, yo ho!"

Allies are standing, as confused as enemies at the strange scene. "We kidnap and ravage and don't give a hoot!"

Gunfire is drawn to Songbird, grinning ear to ear. "Drink up me 'earties, yo ho!"

Batman catches Sparrow's eye, getting a cheeky grin and saluting in response.

“Um…” Nightwing trails off, taking down a thug that had the wherewithal to attack them as most criminals head towards the new… disruption.

“No Nightwing, not now,” Batman grits out, Nightwing backs off to go help Songbird who was getting surrounded. And. Still. Singing.

Batman just stands in the middle of the remaining crowd surrounding him. Absentmindedly taking down anyone who attacks him. Gaze practically locked on the two.

This behaviour... is completely unbecoming of any hero or vigilante.

Sparrow takes down a criminal with a flip that immediately had Nightwing next to her. Chatting as they continued the fight, seemingly experimenting with different styles with the others instructions. With all the criminals around him down he slowly approaches the few remaining that surrounded Songbird and Robin. The latter of which was telling him to stop singing to no avail.

"Um... whats going on here?" Batman doesn't jump at the sudden appearance of Red Robin no matter how much it caught him off guard, he must be more distracted than he thought.

“Just like you to show up when all the hard work’s done,” Robin sneers over at Red Robin.

“I wasn't the one that called for backup,” Red Robin says cooly, “Couldn’t you handle a few thugs?”

“Of course I can your presence here is unwanted as always,” Robin snaps, even as Red Robin takes down the last remaining criminal.

“Oh you two are definitely brothers,” Songbird grins, cutting off Red Robin's retort.

“Tt You are completely- How do you even come to such a inane conclusion,” Robin surprisingly falters, Songbird grinning wider.

“So you’re not?” Songbird pesters, not waiting for further denial, “Cause you seem to really like each other,"

They both start arguing with Songbird. The latter just listening and adding provocation whenever necessary. Easing them both into a teasing atmosphere, playfully more than hurtfully sending out insults.

Nightwing was now showing Sparrow a particular kick flip. All the criminals around them wisely staying still if they were conscious. The two stop to laugh wherever the others say something particularly ludicrous.

Batman watches them, training his years of discipline to keep a smile from tugging on his lips.

I suppose it can be a good thing.

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Taglist:

@technicallyburninggarden @fusser90 @misslenamooney @superbwhispersconnoisseur @biodad-bruce-month

#miraculous #miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug fic #bio dad bruce wayne #Bio Dad Bruce Wayne Month 2020 #Mismatch #Marinette #marinette is mdc #twins au #vigilante au #pop star au #bio dad au #bio! dadbrucewaynemonth2020 #b!dbwm2020 #Maribat #ml fic

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matildashoney · 4 years ago

Text

London Town

Loving You’s the Antidote Extra

MASTERLIST // MOODBOARD // TAG LIST // TAGS // PLAYLIST

TAG LIST: @ihearthemcallingforyou, @goldenfeelin, @detroitkiwis

talk to me about it!

thank you miss @berrynarrybanana for creating the sex bucket list fic challenge! i wanted to write something with the mile high club for harry and ames a while ago and this gave me every opportunity to do so. this is pure filth about harry and amelie getting back to london recently after being stuck in malibu during the quarantine.

warning: this is literally 4.4k of filth. i can’t be sorry for what my brain has done. i take no responsibility.

Harry is guarded, to say the least. There was too much happening for him not to be.

One of the security guards that was driving them to the airport got out with Amelie first, making sure that there weren’t any photographers waiting outside for them (which there shouldn’t be, all things considered) and having her get inside to wait for Harry when he was able to get all their luggage and out of the car. Harry was nervous, his hoodie tugged over his head and his passport and identification all sitting in his hoodie pocket. Amelie was wearing the hoodie they bought at a Spice Girls concert the year before, but it was beginning to fit a big snuggly around her tummy and they knew that anyone that saw them would start pregnancy speculations before they could even begin trying to have a baby themselves. Her hand grabs his as soon as he walks beside her, interlocking their fingers and hiding her face in his chest, the exhaustion beginning to set in and the bruising on her hips from the needles beginning to ache as she stands for much too long without rest.

Harry guides them through security, his heart breaking as Amelie knuckles her eyes and desperately clings to her last bit of energy and pouts as his bag gets checked once more and she isn’t able to sink into his embrace as she wants. Considering the amount of time Harry and Amelie have spent together in quarantine, it would have made more sense that they need space, when in fact, Amelie has never been clingier. Not that Harry pays any mind to it. He knows that it’s with the best intentions, all because she loves him and is happy to be with him. Her hormones are messy with the new birth control she was trying, as well, with all intentions to perhaps make her body ready to be pregnant later in the year. All Amelie wanted was a good snuggle a very hefty amount of the day. Harry was happy to give that to her.

Los Angeles International Airport is surprisingly empty, Harry thought there would have been more celebrities trying to get back to wherever they’re from now that flights are slowly beginning to depart again – not that they really should be. Harry is excited to get back to England, London particularly. Amelie, although her heart is in love with California, misses London, misses home. All of the exhibition pieces that she was working on were left there, and for nearly four months her creativity was dry and there was nothing she could think of. Harry misses his family, his home. He even misses Tigger, especially now that he’s been staying with Anne for nearly six months. Harry misses their routine. Amelie misses the comfort of being home.

Malibu is home in a lot of ways.

Malibu is where they said the three words for the first time. Malibu is where they got engaged. Malibu is where they got married on a whim. All of Amelie’s family is nearby and their best friends and godchildren are only a fifteen-minute drive away. Mostly, it’s being together that makes it feel like home. Home is so subjective. To Harry, after travelling for so many years, unsteady relationships, the media overwhelming him with labels and rumours and the way his mental health suffered, Amelie really became the one thing that made the most sense, that made him feel safe. To Amelie, with all that she went through, the idea that someone could make you feel like home was absolutely mad, and there was a nagging voice that always told her she wouldn’t find it, and then Harry waltzed into her life and simply knocked every single thought she had about her life into another world; Harry made her feel as though there was nothing that she couldn’t do, and maybe he was right about that. Home was with each other, no matter where they are or where they go.

Harry squeezes Amelie’s hand, the engagement ring and wedding band ice on his skin. He smiles though, the feeling that the symbol gives him making his eyes sting with tears. He sniffles, drawing her attention and her eyebrows furrowing together in confusion. He shakes his head, kissing her hairline and nodding to the near-empty terminal that was about to board their flight.

“’ey,” Amelie whispers, brushing her thumb under his eye and moving the mask slightly to kiss his cheek, “you okay?”

“Thought about how we’re married and got all,” Harry mutters, his nose in her hair and laughing to himself. “Don’t know, guess m’heart is softer, now.”

“Always has been, baby,” she smiles, laying her thighs over his legs and cuddling into his chest, her eyes falling shut as he gently rubs her back. “Think they’ll yell at us for laying in the same bed, again?”

“Don’t think so since everyone has to stay away,” he mumbles, taking in the way the ten other passengers for the flight are wearing masks and gloves. “Can’t wait to be home and don’t have to wear this thing.”

“Meaning you’re gon’a be naked in the garden most days and dragging me out with you.”

Harry snickers, meeting Amelie’s knowing stare and shrugging his shoulders, “As long as you’re naked, too.”

“Don’t try your luck, Mr Styles,” Amelie sighs, squeezing his hips as his thumb dips beneath the waistband of her leggings. “Harry.”

“Didn’t wear any knickers.”

“Je ne voulais pas qu'ils me montent au cul pendant douze heures,” she whispers under her breath, trying to avoid the entire terminal hearing that her decision this morning was to go without any knickers on an eleven-hour flight.

Harry smirks, tugging his mask to his chin and pressing his lips to the shell of her ear, “Tu essaies d'entrer dans le club du mile high, chérie?” For a man that slept maybe three hours, Harry is awfully horny at barely four in the afternoon.

Amelie lightly smacks his hand as his fingers inch towards her inner thigh, coming dangerously close to her centre. “Harry, I swear to God.”

“Oh, it could be fun, Ames.”

“Ah, yes, because you,” Amelie’s voice lowers to a whisper that even Harry can barely hear, “fucking me in our seats in first-class sounds like so much fun when we could get caught.”

“’s the thrill of it all, baby.”

“Don’t do that. Don’t use the baby card,” she says warningly, her eyes narrowing at the man she loves with her whole heart, trying to convey her seriousness. Her thighs clench around his hand, a near-death grip to break his movements where his fingertips would brush over her heat.

“Need those fingers, Cherry.”

“Don’t stick your hands in my leggings, then.” Harry smirks at Amelie. “That doesn’t mean you find a loophole and stick your hand over my fanny either, thank you.”

“Mean, technically I’m not over your fanny.” Harry laughs so loudly, the entire terminal turns to face him. “Need you to tell me when the hell you started calling it that, though. Taking to all the slang now that you’re half a Brit, huh.”

“Much less aggressive than calling it my,” Amelie whispers, “cunt. Don’t you think?”

“Quite like calling it that,” he shrugs, weaselling his hand further up her thigh, nearly holding her heat in his palm. “’s mine to call anything, you know.”

“Oh,” she snorts, shaking her head and lightly pushing his shoulder and smirking when he grabs her hand with his other hand, kissing her palm with a smirk. “Is that how marriage works? Don’t think that was on the document we signed.”

“Mean, as far as I’m aware. Got like,” Harry hums, pretending to count on his fingers the number of months since they’d gotten married in March, “three months under m’belt. ‘s kinda like how you say you want my cock in your mouth.”

“Harry, quit it. There are people around.”

“Half of them would need a hearing aid to hear me, honey.”

Amelie shakes her head, “Whipping your best terms of endearment isn’t making me any more inclined to have sex on the plane.”

“Hate to break it to you, angel, but you saying, fanny, doesn’t really give me an inclination to stick my hand in your pants, anyways.”

“Good,” she says, wrapping her hand around his wrist and moving it away, interlocking their fingers and grabbing their bags to walk to the desk to board. “Not to mention, it’s barely four in the afternoon.”

“Oh, time is a social construct, baby. Isn’t that what you say when you’re begging for it in the morning before I have get on a flight out somewhere?” Harry whispers in her ear, smiling at the flight attendant and handing his phone for the boarding passes.

Amelie releases Harry’s hand, tugging her sweatshirt sleeves over her fingers and crossing her arms over her chest. “I hate you.”

Harry smirks, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and kissing her head, his phone stuck in the front of his The Face sweatshirt that Amelie threw onto the bed for him to wear while he was sleeping. “No, you really don’t.”

“Welcome,” one flight attendant says through their mask, oblivious to the sexual tension spurring in between the freshly married couple and the way her hand was holding his simply to ensure that he wouldn’t squeeze her breast with his hand hanging limply over her shoulder.

Harry steps inside the row first, and Amelie knows why he’s hiding in the seat that would be the least likely to be seen by the flight attendants. Her head shakes with a sigh, heaving a breath and settling into the chair, giving a warning glance to him as his lips toy with a mischievous grin.

“Garder les mains pour soi.”

“Can’t keep m’hands to m’self for eleven hours,” Harry stresses, his cheek laying on her shoulder as he stares at her through hooded eyelids, the separator pushed away to allow him to cuddle into her, the way her nails are scratching at his scalp making him want her more.

“Harry, yes, you can,” Amelie says, knowing that Harry is trying to wear her down with the dramatic nature of the conversation. Her thighs are warm thinking about the adrenaline that would course through her veins by having sex where they very well shouldn’t be, but with the environment being heavily closed away from interaction, maybe this was just the right time to do so.

Amelie wouldn’t admit that to Harry, though. No. Because that means he won.

“Haven’t touched you in like, three days.”

“Because we had to get all of our things together, see our godchildren, and see my family. Not because I didn’t want to.”

“Alright, well, now we have eleven hours.”

Amelie sighs, carding her fingers through her hair and gently pulling out the tie in her curls and letting the baby pink fall over her shoulders. Through her peripheral vision, she can see Harry roll his eyes, trying to look away as she tugs on the sleeves on the sweatshirt, gently pulling the material away and leaving his eyes to bask over the loose-fitting shirt from his closet and her chest free from any restrictions.

“For fuck’s sake, Amelie,” Harry groans, sitting up and beginning to pull his mask away from his mouth, all the passengers boarded and the flight attendants beginning to go through the safety measures as he’s heard a million times before. “Did you not wear a bra, either?”

“Like you said, eleven hours,” she shrugs, a smirk playing at her lips as she set the sweatshirt over her thighs, dragging the blanket over her body, locking his hand between her legs.

“Know just how to get what you want, huh?”

“Maybe,” she hums, spreading her thighs the slightly amount to give him the ability to roam further across her skin. “Have had quite a few years of practice.”

Harry smirks, taking Amelie by surprise and sliding his hand beneath the waistband of her leggings, her thighs unable to be held together as his fingers drag slowly and teasingly across her mound. “About, five years, huh, baby?” Amelie gulps. “Don’t go quiet on me, now. Have had the wittiest comebacks for an hour and now you’re quiet?”

“Harry,” she says through a clenched jaw, trying her swallow back a moan as his fingers delicately trace along her core, arousal collecting on his fingertips as his finger draws over her clit lightly, barely touching her skin. “Either you do it or you don’t.”

“Do you want me to?” Harry smirks, lips ghosting across the shell of her ear and making her sink further into her seat, her thumb between her teeth as she nods shamelessly. “Amelie Fay, tell me what you want or I’m going to take my hand back.”

Harry rarely uses Amelie’s whole name. And by rarely, Amelie means that Harry only uses her whole name – first and middle – when they’re arguing and she won’t listen (which is most of the time) or they’re about to do something filthy and she won’t give verbal consent (which is most of the time they’re taking to exhibitionism). But whenever Harry uses it, fuck, it’s another type of sexy. His accent draws out every syllable, especially when he’s trying to use an accent that her mother has or it’s deeply his own.

Amelie sucks in a deep breath, trying to steady her breathing and not melt into the chair with the barely-there movements of his fingertips, his middle finger teasing her warmth by dipping in to collect more arousal over her clit. “Okay, okay.”

“Okay, what.”

“Need you to use your fingers,” she sighs, his fingers beginning to ease into her warmth and brush against the velvet that squeezes him in. “Fuck.”

“Be quiet,” Harry says strictly, his cheek laying on her shoulder and his lips touching the cut of her jaw. “Have barely touched you and you’re already squeezing me, doll. Maybe I should’ve tried a bit harder to get you into bed, hm? Have I been neglecting you? Horrible husband, you have.”

Harry and Amelie never could describe their sex life as neglected – certainly not that – but it definitely was not what it was when they first got married at the beginning of March. Harry and Amelie tiptoed around the subject because there were days when there was too much frustration to even think about getting naked and sharing their thoughts with the other person. That definitely isn’t what want they wanted, what they promised each other. And so, here they were, three months into the isolation and just being able to go home, and there was a desperation lingering between them that neither really knew was there. Getting comfortable was something they didn’t want, and that’s exactly what they did.

His fingers work at a speed that could only be described as desperate and longing. His thumb pressed against her clit with patterns that have her hips longing to writhe beneath him, his middle and third finger curling inside of her with every thrust, taking a second to ghost across the spot that would have her screaming inside their bedroom.

“Baby, please,” Amelie whimpers, tucking her face into his hair and breathing out through parted lips, squeezing her eyes shut as the flight attendant walks through the aisle, completely unsuspecting of what is happening beneath the linen. “Harry.”

“All over me, honey. Gi’ me all of it.”

Amelie tugs on Harry’s curls, earning a smirk and a grateful kiss, swallowing her moans as the orgasm ripples through her body. Her hands shaking as she grasps onto the blanket and her hot breaths hitting his neck. His hand is coated with her orgasm, his mouth watering at the thought of her taste on his tongue.

If Harry couldn’t go down on her, right now, this is the next best option.

“Get out the fruit and water from your bag.”

“Huh?” Amelie whispers, her eyes barely opening to try and read Harry’s expression. “For what?”

“For you to drink,” Harry smiles, kissing her hairline sweetly. “And so, I can stick my fingers in m’mouth and it won’t look like I just fucked you under the blanket.”

“Christ, Harry,” she mutters, rolling her eyes as he chuckles under his breath. “Do you realise you still have your fingers in me?”

“And?”

“Can’t lean over and grab everything with you puncturing my cervix.”

“Don’t flatter me that much, baby,” Harry quips, nodding towards the bag laying at her feet and gently tapping his thumb against her clit once more. “Already have a big head.”

“Hate you,” Amelie swallows, trying to control her breathing as she leans forward and reaches for her bag, Harry’s fingers wiggling inside her warmth. He is just as needy as she is, at the moment, except, Amelie would rather wait until they are home and can’t be caught. “Here.”

“But, baby, I know you don’t.” He chastely kisses her cheek, gently taking his fingers from her warmth and slowly removing his hand from her pants, pouting his lips, “My hand is cold, now.”

“Unfortunate,” she shrugs, taking a long sip from her water as his tongue licks along his palm, his two fingers suckled between his lips and tasting all that he’s missed in nearly four days. He isn’t used to going that long. Maybe, he’s a bit spoiled in that regard. Harry and Amelie are running on the same sex drive at all times. Call it inspirational in some respects. Amelie has found it quite useful in the exhibitions recently. Harry finds that flattering.

“Quit being a brat,” Harry teases, squeezing her knee over the blanket and standing on his feet, nodding towards the bathroom a few feet away. “Have to wash my hands. Got a bit messy.”

Amelie shakes her head, wiggling around in her seat and shrugging her sweatshirt over her torso, settling under the blanket and laying over the chair, waiting for Harry to get back and cuddle into. Harry smiles at the sight, wiping his hands over his sweatpants and manoeuvring around her legs and settling into his seat. His arms open wide, graciously accepting Amelie as she climbs over into his seat and lays in the reclined bed with him, tucking her face into his neck. “Hi.”

“Hi, Cherry.”

“Can’t wait to go home,” she whispers, yawning as his fingertips drag through her hair. “Miss home.”

“Know you do,” he says, kissing her temple and bringing the blanket tighter over her body. “Me too.”

“Need a really good night of sex, too. Or day. I’m not picky.”

Harry snorts, “Have our other nights not been satisfactory to you?”

“Always the best with you. Don’t worry,” Amelie smirks, kissing his jaw and breathing in his cologne. “Different when we’re home, though. Don’t care about anything or anyone. Can just do it wherever, whenever. Don’t have to worry about my parents or sister, or our friends coming and knocking on our door.”

“Love your sister,” Harry says, his voice hanging on the last word, “but she is the biggest cock block in the entire world.”

Amelie laughs so loudly into Harry’s chest that the flight attendant peers over his novel. “God, you’re right.”

“Need to just be alone with m’missus for a while.”

Her voice is quiet, once again, barely above a whisper as she begins to fall asleep nuzzled into his warmth. “Alright.”

His eyebrows furrow together in confusion. “No argument? No rebuttal?”

“Not today.”

Harry laughs breathily, shaking his head and kissing her hair, his hands dragging along her spine as she drifts asleep. He stays awake until nearly eleven, waking her to eat and watching a film on his phone until they’ve fallen back asleep together, only waking to the sound telling them to buckle their seatbelts and settle into landing. Harry can see the relief on Amelie’s face, the smile that sits permanently on her lips as the pilot welcomes them to England and Heathrow Airport.

Amelie nearly forgets their luggage when Harry pulls into the garage, rushing inside to see Tigger and breathe in the scent that is permanently a mark of their London home. He tugs in their bags, setting the mickey mouse printed luggage in the foyer and wrapping his arms around her waist, kissing her neck sweetly and nosing her hair away from her skin.

“Fuck, ’m happy to be home.”

“Know you are,” Harry smiles, gently biting her neck and licking over the red mark lingering on her skin. His hands squeeze her thighs, lifting her onto his hips and wrapping his arms under her ass, his eyes rolling as their cat begins to rub along his legs. “Not the time, Tigger.”

“He missed you.”

“Flattered, but not really the time. Quite missed shagging m’wife, so that’s the priority at the minute.”

“That sounds really sexy coming from your mouth,” Amelie hums, dragging her thumb over his plump lips.

“Hm?” Harry asks, carefully making his way up the stairs and shoving their bedroom door open, careful to make sure that their cat would not be in the way when the door closed behind him. He became way too good at carrying her up the stairs when they moved in two years ago.

“My wife.”

Harry snickers, walking straight into the bathroom and turning on the light with his elbow, setting Amelie on the counter and harshly pressing his lips to hers. “’s what you are, m’wife.”

“Can’t wait to have this on me,” Amelie smirks against his cheeks, her fingertips dragging along his beard as Harry tugs their sweatshirts and shirt off their bodies. “First place you’re going to have sex with me in our house is the shower.”

“Know you better than that to think you’ll let me on the clean sheets after we were just on a plane for twelve hours.”

Amelie giggles, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and tugging him into her, his arms circling her waist and his tongue tasting her lips, her tongue, her. “Know me well.”

“Hope so after five bloody years.”

“Go turn the water on.”

Harry nods eagerly, walking away and turning the water in the shower, the waterfall faucet sprinkling water over him as he tugs on his sweatpants tie. His head rolls back as two hands skirt along his naked torso, dancing dangerously close to where he wants them most, his cock already painfully hard between his thighs.

“Don’t tease me, now.”

“Am I not allowed to have a taste, either? ‘s been four days, remember?”

“For fuck’s sake,” Harry moans, squeezing his eyes shut as Amelie’s hands bring his sweatpants over his ass and thighs, her gently hand tugging teasingly over his shaft. “Get in the bloody shower, woman.”

Amelie laughs, taking Harry’s hand and stepping inside the shower, the steam already beginning to fog over the glass doors. His back hits the tile wall, a gasp leaving his lips as she sinks to the ground, her knees printed with the tile, her tongue dragging over the arousal wetting his tip. He moans, the sound spurring her on, his hand running through her hair as she wraps her fingers around his base and begins sucking on his cock, all of him surrounded by her tongue and her wet lips and her warmth.

His stomach tightens, nearly spilling his entire orgasm down her throat. His whimpers as she pulls away makes her laugh, his eyes barely open before he’s helping her stand and grabbing her thigh to wrap around his waist, his cock sliding deep inside her warmth without warning. Her forehead falls to his collarbone, the sensation overwhelming and deeply missed. Her nails dig into his shoulders, their kisses messy and sloppy as his thrust reaches every inch into her core, his thumb drawing shapes around her clit the way he knows she loves.

“Missed this so much,” Amelie moans, her fingers tugging at his curls and bringing his mouth to hers. “Can’t go that long again.”

“Fucking swear on m’life,” Harry grunts, the way his cock is driving into her making her lift onto her toes. “Gi’ me your leg.”

“Do you want to fall over?”

“Trust me.”

Amelie wraps her legs around Harry’s waist, sighing when her back hits the cold tile that is out of the water’s reach, a gasp leaving her lips as his shaft sits deeper inside her warmth.

Harry is grunting mercilessly into her neck, Amelie’s moans echoing inside the bathroom, and to anyone that doesn’t know them, they might have thought that they’d not seen each other for a month, maybe two, with how intense their orgasms spill onto each other. Her thighs shake around his waist, their orgasms dripping out of her and onto his legs as he holds her, making sure that she wouldn’t fall.

And their shower isn’t devoid of more touching and kissing, in fact, the water goes cold before they’re fully finished washing up and rinsing the shampoo and conditioner from their hair.

Harry watches Amelie change intensely, soaking in the way she’s never changed the way she looks in their time together – except for the new three tattoos – the way she’s never felt the need to. Harry adores every curve and tattoo and mark and dimple, especially when she’s naked and he’s touching her skin.

“Can you look away for maybe two seconds?”

“No,” Harry deadpans, laying his hands behind him on the bed, the towel still loosely covering his waist.

“Are you going to eat lunch with me?” Amelie wonders, tugging one of Harry’s old shirts on and sliding briefs onto her hips – he never wears them anyways.

“Think I need to go for a run, and then I’ll shower and come back and eat.”

“You want to go for a run? After a twelve-hour flight?”

“Need to otherwise you and me will be in that bed for the next twelve hours,” Harry says surely, taking a deep breath and nodding his already semi-hard cock between his thighs.

“For fuck’s sake,” Amelie breathes, shaking her head and walking to him on the bed. Her lips press against his chastely, once, then twice, smiling when he tugs her onto his chest, and they fall against the mattress.

“Love you.”

“Love you more. Go for your run. Think I can take, like, six hours in bed, with breaks, alright? I’m not a machine.”

“Ooh, a compromise.”

“Married men get three compromises a year, this is one.”

“Deal.”

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maldito-arbol · 3 years ago

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It is occurring to me that the events of my life over the last 2-3 months are very much blurred together in an amalgamation of trauma and dissociation and depression and I can hardly remember me at all. Hey. Sorry. I probably need therapy.

My current update on life is: still living with a friend. It seems as though my parents are content in having abandoned me and harbor no desire to apologize nor to take me back. It’s hard to accept but by no means am I surprised, I’m simply tired. I have to rebuild my own self and my own life here, where I stand now. Rebuilding is hard, but I have to keep trying. It’s the only way I can keep myself from falling off the deep end.

In regards to work, yes I did end up quitting my job. I put in my two weeks and I served them despite them many many times tempting me to just leave and never look back—no, I stuck it out, and I earned my due pay. I thought work was hard before, but it suddenly became hell on earth once I made it known I wasn’t going to let them push me around any longer. I am still trying to understand that I deserve better, am still trying to comprehend that I CAN get better…it’s a lot. I thought if I wasn’t suffering then I wasn’t worth anything at all. And that’s just the way I was raised, the way I’ve been treated all my life from school to work to home. It took me a very long time to realize the people I was around were toxic, and when I did, I felt so sick I could almost die.

Guys, I don’t know how quite to express the way I felt and the way I feel, but I thought I should maybe give you some more insight to my life in a formal post rather than just disjointed pieces in the tags of my posts. So the long story short (though unfortunately still too long) is, I was trapped in an abusive home that eventually imploded and resulted in my eviction by my very petulant mother over a barely qualified for conversation conversation about politics. Because she couldn’t stand the fact that I didn’t want to listen to her. I’d hate to imagine how she’d react if I told her I was gay, or genderfluid of all things if she reacted this way over the fact that I lean left politically. Isn’t that incredible? After all the horrible things she’s put me through, physically, mentally, emotionally, she sees fit to kick me out because I snarled “I don’t care” when she attempted to sway me. It’s funny actually. I spent so many nights crying over something so pathetic. Maybe it’s because she’s my mother and her actions directly imply that I am a child unwanted by the one who birthed them, a child who was never truly loved or cared about in the way children dream of. That undying, uncompromising, unconditional love every human being desires. And in a perfect world it should be guaranteed by a mother, but it’s not. How cruel is it that I feel more loved by my friends’ parents than I do by my own? You know no matter what, they’ll never be my birth parents. There will always be that missing hole in my heart no matter how much I tell myself this is enough. Because I feel like I don’t deserve to be loved. And yet I crave it so much. So much that I was willing to be abused, to be put down, to be the punching bag to a miserable, uncaring woman who didn’t know the first thing about love. Even now sometimes I wonder how she’s doing without me. Does she worry? Does she feel regret? Guilt? Anything? Or does she simply go about her day thinking, “it’s no big deal, I have two more children I can ream in your stead.” As for my dad, I may hold off on getting into that whole rabbit hole, because I feel like I shouldn’t even bother giving him the time of day if he barely will even give me that. He is very very very tiring, and I fear I spent too long desiring a relationship that will simply never blossom.

I thought work was my escape. I thought that repetitive tasks would help distract me from my problems, would provide me something to live for, cause gods know I couldn’t come up with a creative reason myself. And yet, in a way, being mentally shattered once again by my mother once again taught me a little lesson about the other people in my life: if they act like my mother, they’re doing something wrong. And my boss, while different in many ways, shared a core of manipulation mastery that really should’ve bothered me from the start. And because I had been kicked out, because I’d moved in with people who genuinely cared about me, all of the sudden I saw how horribly mistreated I was at work. It was easier to write it off before, when I was treated worse at home so work felt like Heaven. But it wasn’t. It never was. How many times I fooled myself into believing it was. It’s interesting how being loved and cared about can show you just how poorly you’ve had it everywhere else. So when my sister quit because of another explosion of verbal abuse from my boss, I decided that was my final sign to throw in the towel. While she simply walked off the job, I allowed my boss to keep me for two more weeks; just to be polite, just to be professional, and I may have just shot myself in the foot in doing so. It’s quite a show manipulators will put on when they realize they’re about to lose you. When holding power and the high ground over you has been torn down, ripped away from them, you see truly the desperation, the lengths they will go to restore order and control over you. I was emotionally manipulated, gaslighted, bribed even in my final days. She had power over me almost to the bitter end, because I so nearly gave up and gave in so many times. I was emotionally broken, and I still am, but what frightened me so then was that she knew my weaknesses and she knew how to exploit them. She understood I was alone and scared and still picking up the pieces in my own life, and with that understanding came not compassion but the determination to squash me underneath her thumb. I needed a whole army of healthy people in my life to beg me not to rescind my decision, to prod and poke at me to follow through with my exit in order to ensure I made it out safely, though clearly not unscathed.

Of course I’m going to continue carrying the trauma from this, but I won’t allow it to be special. I’m going to dump it carelessly into a duffel bag stuffed with every unkind word and every bruise and hit from my mother, with every humiliation and heartbreak dealt by my teachers, with every fucking dumbshit rumor and practiced bullying technique from my peers at a whole variety of different schools and clubs and camps, with every user and moocher from friend groups past, and anything and everything that has left its lovely scar be it on my skin or in my mind. You struck me hard enough to remain for the lifelong flight? Cool. You’ll find your seat in the back with all the snot-nosed children and disappointed mothers and not a good enough view to provide entertainment for the whole trip. Eat some far too salty crackers and wonder what your life has come to. I hope you enjoy.

#mal rants #sorry about that I just wanted to vent in as linguistically articulate as I possibly could #was it entertaining?#hehe #no but seriously if you actually read it thank you so much you’re so cool

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i-write-newsies · 3 years ago

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(A/N): I decided to do some really simple and classic fluff after all the stuff in the last Oneshot. Hopefully, this one won't take me a literal MONTH. Hope y'all like it!! <33

AUs:

- Modern

- Coffee Shop

- College

Jack POV:

Jack is a hopeless romantic. A hidden one for the most part, but a hopeless romantic nonetheless.

Truth be told, he's never been in too many relationships, at least not ones that lasted long. He's liked a few girls before, boys too, and even dated a few. But they lasted 3 months, tops. His record for the quickest breakup was after 5 hours when the person found another person to dote on.

Despite bad experiences like that, Jack remains infatuated with love and the idea of soulmates. He listens to romantic songs on repeat, would always be ready to lend you a romcom, and daydreams about perfect dates with some fill-in-the-blank person when he's supposed to be studying Art History.

But lately, that blank template has been gaining more qualities of a certain boy from school. A certain boy with dark brown curly hair, with an adorable hooked nose, with olive-green eyes and a shy smile.

The moment his mind finally puts the pieces of the person together, he shoots up from laying down in his bed. He quickly pauses the music and struggles to unlock his phone out of a mix of confusion and excitement.

He scrolls through his contacts to the K section, clicking on Katherine's contact and pressing the facetime button. "Pick up, Kath..." he nervously mutters.

Suddenly, her face appears on the screen, "Hey, Jack! What's up?" she then notices the half vacant, half nervous expression his face is showing.

"You doin' okay?" Kath asks, brows furrowed.

"Huh? Yeah! I uhhhh..." Kath waits patiently, knowing his ADHD makes him lose his train of thought all too easily.

"Right! So, you're the only one who knows about me bein' kind of a hopeless romantic..." Jack looks down slightly, and Katherine giggles, knowing his embarrassment around loving love.

"What? Does big ole Jack Kelly have a crush?"

"I don't know!" he gives an exasperated sigh, "Maybe!"

"Okay, okay, calm down cowboy. Now which lucky person has caught your eye this time?" Jack mutters something incoherent below his breath. "What? I can't hear ya."

"Davey Jacobs."

Davey POV:

Davey sighs, taking a look at his computer.

A 2000 word essay on a topic of his choice for History due in 1 month. He knows how much time he has to finish this, and he knows that he could wait until a week until it's due to start it and still finish it on time perfectly, but no matter the assignment, there would always be a thought gnawing at the back of his brain telling him he NEEDS to get it done right now. And so he does. But he knows he needs coffee to do so.

Davey carefully slips his computer into his crammed backpack, as well as his wallet. He plans on going to his favorite cafe. The coffee there tastes like shit (though he would never admit it), but he knows the staff, and some of the baristas even attend his school. There was one that stood out to him, a certain Jack Kelly

Davey isn't sure what's so interesting about the creative student. It could be his heavy 'Hatten accent, or maybe it's his enthusiastic puppy dog energy about anything. It's kind of... adorable, I guess. He looks down at the ground while walking, trying his best to hide his red face. Davey doesn't swear much, but fuuuuuck.

He likes Jack Kelly. Jack Kelly of all people. The guy who accidentally SHARPENED HIS FINGER IN A PENCIL SHARPENER ONCE. Davey sighs, Jack may be an idiot, but no one can deny that it's charming in a way. He has tons of golden retriever energy.

Davey doesn't know what to do.

He sits down in a corner booth to avoid as much human contact as possible. He opens up his laptop and opens the tabs needed for his project. He slips on a pair of noise-cancelling headphones and attempts to block out the thoughts of Jack Kelly. The essay is number one priority right now. Suddenly, Davey sees a looming figure out of the corner of his eye. He snaps his neck up to see...

Oh no.

Fudge.

"What can I get for ya, darlin'"

Jack POV:

Davey's face heats up. I don't really consider this a win, considering that's the way most people react when I call them darling. What can I say? It's a habit of mine.

"U-uhm..maybe-" he stutters quietly.

I speak up to help him out a bit, "I've seen you here before. You always order the hot chocolate with 2 pumps of espresso, right?" He squeaks out a yes.

"Comin right up, doll" his face lights up a bright red again.

Shit. Did I mess it up? Is he uncomfortable with those terms? I come from southern roots, which has pros and cons. The pros are: I'm really resilient, my tea is sweetened to PERFECTION, and I can smell when it's going to rain. Cons: The situation that just unfolded.

As I enter the kitchen area, I sigh. I come on way too strong. I quickly make Davey's order, after all, I did memorize it. I look at the plain hot chocolate. Needs a little something. He seems like the spicy sweet kinda guy, so I carefully add a good amount of whipped cream, and sprinkle some cinnamon on top. I really shouldn't be bringing favoritism into my work, but Dave should be an exception.

Being careful not to spill my masterpiece built out of hot chocolate and whipped cream, I bring it to Davey, who seems very deep in thought, staring at his computer. Trying not to disturb him, I set the drink gently down, then I lift one of his headphones.

"Whatcha doin' Dave?"

He jumps, turning red once AGAIN. "Jesus Christ, bud, got some sorta skin reddening condition?"

"Wh- I- You-" He sputters before regaining his composure, "One, none of your business, two, none of your business."

I feign a wound and put my hand over my chest, "Davey Jacobs! So rude!" I put my arm over my forehead and sigh dramatically, then sneak a peek at him. He's laughing a little. I grin, so he doesn't hate me! Whew!

A few hours,10 drink orders and slightly too loud joking and laughing later, Davey's still here, working on some big project. At this point I've stopped charging him and have just been paying for them myself. I make my way to his table once more.

I notice his cup is empty, "Refill?" I ask, he nods. That's when I notice the bags under his red eyes. I walk back a bit and lean on his table. "You need to sleep, Dave." He shakes his head as a response and I sigh.

I make my way to the kitchen and decide to not add caffeine in this. He needs it. My hands go on autopilot as I start to think about him. He's just so... pretty.

I bite my lip. Should I...? Ah, fuck it, I'm almost done with my shift. I grab a scrap of paper and a pen and scrawl my number, with the message

'Call me ;P'

Beside it. I take a deep breath and carefully balance the cup all the way to Davey's corner booth. The sight is adorable. Davey is laying down on the table, asleep, head tilted to one side, face illuminated by the computer screen. I smile gently.

All I think about for the rest of the night is that sight. As I sit in bed, drawing the scene, I hear a ding from my phone. I open texts and see from an unknown number:

Hey, Jack?

It's Davey.

The student from the coffee shop.

I grin.

Hey Dave :P

I quickly change his contact to <3 Dave <3 with my recent drawing of him as the profile picture.

Before I know it, we're talking about everything. It's honestly so much easier texting than actually interacting with people. My brain decides to peace out for a long minute, and my hands automatically do the typing. Bad decision. Why? Because I barely even notice when I hit send.

Do you wanna go on a date with me? I was thinking about getting froyo, and maybe watching a cheesy romcom. Whaddya say, Dave?

I can only watch, petrified, as I see...

<3 Dave <3 is typing...

~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~Ω~

(A/N):

Hope y'all like this! Pt. 2 will be their date!! btw no one has really interacted or requested fanfics, so if you could vote for this or request something, that would really make me happy.

~ Race

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