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abbynx · 3 years ago

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La Squadra Esecuzione during prom Headcanons

So like.... A normal AU of sorts combined with High School AU so yes Genre: Romantic, headcanons, crack-ish, AU Warning: Alcohol consumption, teen drinking

Formaggio: - Goes to prom sporting a white dress shirt, orange bowtie, tanned suspenders, tanned pants and dark brown dress shoes. Also wears a gold watch and a brown fedora with a green lining - He picks you up rather late, but he knows the vibes with people during prom and usually, the time of meeting plan will usually be delayed due to unexpected disasters occuring. - Has a bouquet of cliché ass roses to give to you when you meet. As soon as he lay eyes on you, his mouth would be a crack open, eyes wide. Once you point his out, he tried to recover from this with a clear of his throat, and checks you out. "Damn bro, you look beautiful." His voice would crack if he were to continue to speak. Will forget to give you the flowers, so point this out and he will practically almost shove on your chest and will profusely apologize if he were too rough. - Will hog the buffet. If there's no buffet, he'll be intensely disappointed and the whole prom night will be ruined. But you're by his side, he's happy... Bust still he will be a little hangry >:( - He will photobomb in every picture his gang will take. So if you want a picture perfect picture to be posted on Instagram, there will be a blurry figure of this dude making kissy faces or sticking his tongue out. Join him if you want, it'll make him happy while the others will pissed at you for not getting your date a leash to stop him from messing around. - He'll egg you on to spike the punch with alcohol. If you're not willing to risk your school record, he'll do it himself and will succeed at it. Now watch the chaos unfold as students get unknowingly drunk. - This boy will be busting down the moves on the dance floor. So get your dancing shoes on, and DANCE— - When the slow dance music comes on, he'll smoothly ask you for your hand for (marriage—) a dance. So if he is extremely hyper whilst dancing to pop, hip hop or whatever lovely music the DJ was playing, he is very distinctively different. Very slow, very gentle, very soothing. Just swaying by the music as the night ends. Often times he'll let you take the lead of the dance and hes okay with that. "You know Y/N..." He breathes out, as he lets you take the lead to the waltz. "I could get use to this... Us dancing like this... Inourweddingday—" "What?" "Nothing." He smirks, before letting himself be dipped down and twirled up again. Illuso - Goes to prom wearing a white dress shirt, light grey pinstripe waist coat with a matching light grey pinstripe pants, white gloves, black dress shoes and a purple necktie with a silver tie clip. He ditched the six pigtails in favour for a high ponytail secured with a purple hair tie. - Pretty boy here will be looking extra pretty tonight! No surprise that he brought a mirror with him to touch on his appearance multiple times. You will see him spray his face with those mist sprays to touch up his appearance. - He is fashionably late due to him tending on his appearance, but he makes it up to you by bringing flowers and sweets! Once he lays eyes on you, he plays cool by smirking but omg he is squealing inside. "Good evening, Caro/a. You look ravishing." He kisses the back of your hand, whilst keeping an intense eye contact. Bro, idk how you will stay calm and composed by this— - Will photobomb pictures with Formaggio, except he poses like a model instead of making funny faces. - Will get unknowingly tipsy from the punch and flirt with you and will be extra touchy, slinging his arm around your shoulders when sitting down, and will wrap his arms around your waist. "Caro/a~ you look so damn hot in your dress/suit~" - Refuses to stand up and dance to lively music. Let Formaggio and the others egg him on and with the influence of his tipsy-ness, before he takes offense and dance like there's no tomorrow. So if you're not dancing with him, get your camera's out, Melone has his one out. - Will not stop giving you compliments, so enjoy getting bombarded with it every single time. This behaviour is being influenced by a little drop of alcohol and encouraged by

what he truly feels about you. So enjoy while it lasts. He is extra clingy, and will accompany you everywhere you go. If you manage to slip away from him, he might just cry searching for you. "Caroooo/aaaa where are youuu?" - And amidst the slow dance part, he will indulge and lead. So prepare, bro, he has prepared himself just for this moment. He gives me pompous theatre kid vibes, so expect the dance to be so grand and fairytale like that students would be staring at you two. Prosciutto - Whoooooo bro, if he looks glamorous like he normally does, it will be multiplied tonight in Prom. Like bruh chill, you're attending a high school prom, not your own wedding— So for prom he is dressed to his best, sporting a black dress shirt, navy blue waist coat, a dark navy blue double breasted coat with small, gold vine designs around the cuffs of the sleeves, navy blue pants, yellow necktie with navy blue curly vine detailing and a pair of black dress shoes. His hair is styled the same, because he looks hot with it. - He is very quick at preparation, and so he expects you to be the same. If not, he'll take the time to assist you in preparation whilst sternly lecturing you about the importance of time management. Once finished, he'll press a kiss to your cheeks and compliment how you look. "You're glowing, my love," he whispers to your ear, before standing straight and offering you an elbow. "Shall we?" - Refuses to get up and dance to lively music, because he thinks it's too peasant-like 💅✨ No amount of egging will convince him because he thinks he's too sophisticated for something like that - He snuck his own bottle of alcohol because he doesn't want to drink the punch spiked with cheap alcohol. This boy I swear. - Prosci is extremely classy, a huge gentleman, the type that will take his coat off and lend it to you if you're cold or offer you his handkerchief when you cry or whatever, will pull you a seat, etc etc. - Will only get up to dance when the music has gone slow and the lights are dimmed. He will step out of his seat, serve you a bow and offer you a hand. And with low, velvety baritone voice, he ask, "May I have the honour to dance with you?" - He leads the dance with grace and elegance enough to match with your capable pace. If you don't know how to dance, he'll take it slow and teach you the basic, let get the hang of it. He doesn't really care if you know or not, he just want you in his arms. - This is where most likely where you'd share your first kiss. Dancing the night away, chest to chest and clinging to each other whilst everything around you slowed and faded away, gazing into each others eyes until your sight suddenly darts down to his lips when he got the same feeling you wanted to share something amidst this evening to solidify your relationship with each other and take it to the next level. And so he'll gently lean, press his kiss against yours, and pulling away, only to go for it again. Pesci - Goes to prom wearing a black dress shirt, green bow tie, white coat that he left open, and some regular black shoes. He opted to dress simple unlike his overly grand older brother because of his insecurities getting to him first. - Very nervous. Like, shit bro, his hands were extremely clammy causing Pesci to be scolded by Prosciutto yet again for being nervous for no reason. - He was too damn chicken to ask you out to prom, and is now wallowing in his own misery by drowning himself drinking the funny tasting liquid Prosciutto brought with him, just watching you from afar laughing with your friends. Formaggio and Prosciutto are his biggest wingmen and are actively encouraging him to go get it, but Pesci was too damn shy. "Pesci, Pesci, Pesci," Prosciutto lectures, caressing his brother's face. "You and I both know you're good enough for Y/N. Look at them, they just stand still and miserable whilst their friends left to dance with their own partners. Are you going to allow that?" "Come on, Pesci! You can do it!" Formaggio chimes in. - And so with the egging done, Pesci sucks a

breathe and walks to your table when your friends have gone to dance the night away with their partners. He was a sweaty mess, opting to run away the last minute, when Prosciutto and Formaggio pushed him forward, which automatically got your attention. "Oh hi, Pesci!" He felt his would left his body when your attractive face turned to him with a smile. His chest hammered heavily, drowning his ears out with heavy cacophonous beats of his own heart. - So there you were, just smiling at him, confused to why he approached your table and just stared at you. You noticed the way he trembled, connected two and two together and stood from your seat and offered him your hand. "Would you like to dance with me?" "Y-yes— I would love too!" The two wingmen were disappointed Pesci didn't initiated the suave introduction, but it is what it is. - Be patient with him, he is a nervous wreck and will profusely apologize when he accidentally stepped on your toes, and his palms were constantly sweating and will stop the dance just so he can wipe your hands with his handkerchief, apologizing. - So what you're gonna do is to put your hand atop his shoulders and look him in the eyes. "Pesci, calm down. It's just me. Breathe." And with that, his nerves are a little settled, took a breathe and regained a small bit sense of being calm and let you lead the dance. - After the dance ended, bows were exchanged, you gave him a peck on the cheek. "Let's go out tomorrow, yeah? Let's meet up by the park at five thirty. I'll see you there." You smirked up at him, before escorting him back to his seat. The boy was left speechless, but the red on his face says it all. Once you're out of ear-shot, Prosciutto and Formaggio would cheer for Pesci. Melone - Wear a violet dress shirt, a dark lavender waist coat, an extremely dark shade of purple coat, a magenta cravat, black shoes, and black gloves. I headcanonned him to be wearing a violet rectangular rimmed glasses due to his bad eye sight on his right eye during his younger days, so he's going to prom with his glasses off and with contact lenses on. His hair would be up to a half ponytail fastened by a crystal rose hairpin. - He came to you your house to pick you up, straightening the cravat on his chest, ready to fluster you to no end when he came face to face with you. You're too attractive that he lost his voice for a moment. He was too nervous too check you out and be a perve about it, holy shit why are you so damn beautiful djfnfkdjcjndcjmd - He looks suave, but honestly, he is a wreck. There will be moments wherein the charming veneer he has will collapse with the form of a voice crack or a stammer, but will immediately clear his throat and rephrase what he has to say. "H-hello Y/N uUHm—" his voice cracked, forcing his hand to fly up to his mouth to clear his throat and recover his charming veneer. "Good evening, Y/N. You look divine as always, tesoro~" - Honestly, just the best fucking person to be prom date and boyfriend because he will never bore you at all! Not with his four hundred choice of topic, you are not going to get bored! And besides, who does not want to hear this nerd talk passionately about his interest, interesting facts and whatnot? Don't you dare shut him up, look at that glimmer in his eyes when he's talking, you wouldn't want to ruin that right? - He. Will. Take. Pictures. A lot of it. Not just of the two of you together, but with his friends as well because he holds them dear to his chest. He will manage to get a shot of the two of you together without Formaggio photobombing in the background. So get him to take your picture for your new profile picture in Instagram or something because his photography skills are heavenly! And he doesn't really kind taking pictures of you, in fact, he loves that he gets to have more of your photos! - Will get easily jealous. And by that, enjoy Melone practically clinging to you, tightening his grip around your hand and giving an overly sweet smile towards the person making him jealous. Good luck with that

sweetie 😘 - Yo, due to his extremely overwhelmed reaction of your beauty, he won't stay silent for a minute to compliment you. Like, at all. But he's not charming about it, no, it just subconsciously slips out whenever he's deeply staring at you with sunset eyes and just the most adorable grin ever, whilst his heart within his chest can't stay still. And within this moment, he couldn't help but to press a gentle kiss on your lips because of how deep his desire and trance was. Will apologize frantically once realization struck him that he shouldn't be doing that without your consent and will sputter apologies. So kindly shut him up and return his kiss and that will leave him into a smiling wreck. - As soon as the music changed into a slow pace, the lights dimmed and the mood changed, he nervously looks over you and holds his hand out. "Would you like to dance, tesoro?" He graciously asked with an edge of anxiety in his voice. You simply smiled and put your hand atop his and let him lead you into the dancefloor and let him lead the dance. There's nothing more heavenly than being with you, to be honest. He's in peace but at the same time, panicked because a divine deity such as yourself decided to look more into his perverted character and saw a passionate nerd residing in him. You didn't look at him with revulsion, you laughed with him, and you love him. There's nothing more he could want than feeling your warmth and love. Ghiaccio - He doesn't really like the prom at all, and will bitch just about everything, to the food, the venue, etc like chillax Elsa— so his main complaints is that he sees this as a waste of time and money, as apparently this is just any other time in school, just in the middle of the night, dressed in formal attires. And for that thing in mind, he thought that getting a date was useless. Pfft, as if he can resist you—He wasn't going to attend this dumb event when he heard some boys wanting to ask a certain h/c friend of his into a date as a prank. So Ghiaccio squared the fuck up, and asked you out in a date, rather straightforward and blunt about it, so go and accept! - Sis be unrecognisable omg, you'd have to hear him scream about etymology before recognising this nerd lmao So he's out to go to prom wearing a light blue dress shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, white and blue gingham patterned waist coat, red bow tie and black shoes. His hair is out of its curls, slicked back and he's wearing contact lenses and ditched his glasses. - Very confused as to why he attended for your sake, but went through with it because he can't stand seeing his friend experience that kind of pain. I mean, he can just tell you not to accept their offer, but he insists! "I'm not asking you out on a prom date because I wants to! I just doesn't want to those cazzos to take advantage of you!" He persists to insist with his furiously red, discoloured face. - Boi, stop teasing him before he turns completely red, voice at the its highest peak, and mad at you, because with your attractive looks alone he already can't control the colour of his face. If you stop, however, that doesn't mean La Squadra won't stop teasing him about it. So do him a favour, scold the others and give Ghia a break. - Warms up at the idea of prom because he realised how his friends and classmates enjoyed this... Especially you. The way you would just sit, listen to the music whilst eating, watching other students just vibe? Well admittedly he isn't warming up to it because his peers are enjoying it... But it's because the way you smile watching others enjoy this event. He is a massive tsundere but a romantic sap at heart, please help this boy— - So dancing... What you expected him to know how to dance? PFFT— NO, OVER HIS DEAD BODY— anddddddd somehow he found himself in the middle of the dancefloor, aggressively flailing his limbs around after Formaggio and Illuso called him incapable of doing so. - At the end of the night, once slow dancing was in session, he is a bit of hesitant to dance with you, as you saw him

dance earlier. He just does not know how to and other than that, he freezes up when he is within close proximity with you. But dang it Y/N, why do you look so damn envious watching your classmates dance? So Ghiaccio sucks it up, sighs and stood from his seat. "Wanna dance?" He grumbled. Oh bich, you better accept because he's only doing this once! - So he tried his best to ease up, lead the dance and just tries not to make a mistake. He's generally having a good time despite being so stiff and with his brows knitted together, I assure you he is enjoying! It's just his default appearance and he is really intensely focused on not stepping on your toes. Like the prom, he warms up to dancing because seeing you smile just makes him smile too. This would be the moment wherein he'd find beauty within your eyes in which he never looked upon before. He was always so drawn to your eyes just staring off into space, but never has he seen them up close... And they were certainly more prettier now that he is up close. Risotto - Like Ghiaccio, he doesn't see the point in going to these events. I mean, there's socializing but don't students do that every day already? He wasn't going to attend prom, seeing that he really doesn't know what to do in these events... Until you asked him out to go, so wyoom— fuck that, he's going! - Having the lack of knowledge about prom and being so indecisive regarding what he can wear, mix that with his desperation to impress you— he asks the only fashion Diva he knows of, Prosciutto over for advice or better yet, pick at the clothes in his closet for Risotto to wear. - He ended up going to prom wearing a black double waist coat and pants with silver pinstripes, red dress shirt, black and white stripped necktie, silver chains connected to his coat and pocket watch, and also black shoes. He let his hair down, combed down and parted to the side. - Mostly silent during prom, just watching other people vibe whilst drinking from the alcohol Prosciutto snuck in. He's not really comfortable participating into the party, he's more into watching them just vibe but he would appreciate it if you'd stay by his side not because he looks lonely, but you just genuinely want to stay with him and/or you're uncomfortable mingling with the crowd as well. - Will have his finger entwined with you the whole evening, complimenting you and your choice of clothing for the night. He just appreciates your company and secretly hopes to himself that you wouldn't ditch him for being so boring since he doesn't really what to do in these sorts of situations other than being a wallflower. It was selfish of him, but he knows you love him~ "Promise you wouldn't leave me?" Risotto whispers, his thumb stroking your hand for reassurance. "What? No!" - Will get easily jealous because he feels so damn self-conscious that he really doesn't know what to do in events like this! And by that, enjoy Risotto practically clinging to you, tightening his grip around your hand and giving a look towards the person making him jealous. Good luck with that sweetie 😘 - The only moment wherein he'd be getting near the crowd to mingle would be with you... He wanted you to experience something from him this night and so he decided to dance with you at the end of the night. And so when the mood was set in for a slow dance, he timidly hold his hand out for you to take, with his intense gaze boring to yours, he asks of you, "May I have the honour to dance with you?" - He'd have the biggest, most fucking loving smile when you accept as he gently takes your hand and lead you to the dance floor. There is, admittedly, a problem with the height difference but fuck that, you just wanted to dance. He just wants you to know that he's very appreciative of his nature to be unsociable and despite that, you stuck around with him instead of abandoning him to bond with your other sociable peers, and that he's the luckiest boy alive to be having such an understanding, such kind and thoughtful s/o. "Thank you... Very much, Y/N." Gelato and

Sorbet - Gelato would be dressed with a black turtle neck, dark grey coat, dark grey pants and shoes, with a silver chain hanging around his neck. His hair at its usual style. - Whilst Sorbet attended prom dressed in a white dress shirt with the sleeves folded to his elbows, brown waist coat with light brown pinstripes, with matching brown pants with the same pinstripe pattern, dark brown necktie and brown shoes. - Will lounge around like Risotto, and just vibe with the music, ya know? If you're up for some dancing with the three of them, hell ye sure, because there's nothing more enjoyable than spending with each others side! - If ever you decided not to drink, watch over Gelato with Sorbet because that boy will drink and his tolerance is whack. So not only are you on guarding duty with Gelato, but as well as the rest of La Squadra. So please, don't drink, Sorbet would very much appreciate for someone to be as sober as he is to deal with your drunken friends. "Gelato, please put the bottle down and get off the table—" Sorbet tries to lecture, whilst the aforementioned person tips over at rhe slightest with a bottle of alcohol at hand. "Y/N could tou help me over here?!" - Both of them are very chatty, surprisingly knows a lot of juicy gossips about teachers and classmates alike but they clarify that you should not repeat what you hear. So either you're out there dancing, or gossiping about everyone in school as you sat by your table. "Did you know Regina is cheating on Aaron?" Gelato whispers lowly meant for only your and Sorbet's ear. "Omg, really?" You whispered back. "I knew there was something up." Sorbet adds. - Three person waltz anyone? Hell yes. So all you need is precise movements and grace, but that's already taken care of since you three practiced in advance for this! It doesn't really matter if it were to be performed well, y'all just wanted a good time at each others company and that's that. - At the end of the night, Gelato's passed out from alcohol like the rest of La Squadra except of Pesci, you and Sorbet. So good luck loading your drunken friends into the vehicle. ~ Bonus ~ Prom King: Illuso Best dressed: Prosciutto Best dancer: Formaggio

#la squadra x reader #la squadra #risotto x reader #prosciutto x reader #formaggio x reader #illuso x reader #pesci x reader #melone x reader #ghiaccio x reader #gelato x reader #sorbet x reader #jjba golden wind #jjba vento auero #jojos part 5 #headcanons

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dusksmote · 4 years ago

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How do you ink and color? Any tips? I love your art! 💜🖤

oh shit i got this ask months ago and forgot to answer

inking: god i hate lineart so much. the trick is to not do it 😂 unfortunately, i still find myself spending hours on lineart all the time @_@

the biggest thing i’ve found is making your lines varied in thickness. it adds to the interest. i also try to make my outside line thicker than my inside ones to break up the figure from the background. don’t be afraid to skips some lines and imply them with shading instead. i will color over my lines at the end to make them not as strong, but i’ve learned to still keep some lines black for extra emphasis.

^ here’s one of my older pieces that i’ve been considering redoing. it has very little line variation, ALL the lines are colored so there’s no solid black, and there’s very little hard contrast in shading values. overall, it looks flat and uninteresting and if i had the time i’d redraw this one.

this is a more recent example of lineart that i think works a lot better. the characters are really well defined with a strong outline, but the inside lines aren’t harsh and distracting. you can see i recolored the lineart in kyle’s hair to be a dark red, and in some places it blends with the shadows to imply areas with more highlights. stan’s pants don’t have and lines in them, just the outside shape and pockets.

you can see in this wip what the lineart looks like before i do all the shading and fancy stuff. stan’s pants look totally flat and straight until i start shading.

a lot of the time though i won’t even do lineart, especially if it’s a big scenic piece. the more zoomed out less detail you can convey, and lineart takes up a lot of space.

^ this piece is an example where i do both, lineart and no lineart. the mirror image of kyle isn’t the focus, and i honestly didn’t feel like going in and drawing exact lines because they’d probably look fucked up anyway. i typically don’t put hard lines in backgrounds because it would take FOREVER and just be distracting.

the one thing you do have to be careful of with lineless art is contrast. hard lines are good contrast that show you what you’re looking at, and without them your image can blend together.

here’s part of a painting i did last august, when i was first experimenting with lineless styles (full image on my NSFW twitter). can you tell what’s going on here? i sure as fuck can’t. there’s no contrast, and it makes all the skin tones blend together in an unintelligible mush.

contrast has always been one of my biggest weaknesses as an artist, so i’ve been trying to improve over time. here’s a more recent lineless drawing:

this one works because it had high contrast. the highlights are really bright and the shadows are really deep. you can still make out the facial features too, but there’s no ‘lineart’ layer’. everything was painted on in the same layer.

coloring: oh my god i love coloring. it’s my favorite part of drawing and the reason why shit takes forever. a lot of the same stuff from before comes into play, like contrast. you can also portray some really interesting moods based on colors if you’re being stylistic, but also pay in mind to your environment.

i always color my background first. in fact, a lot of the time i’ll do the entire background before coloring a piece. the environment establishes your light levels and light source, and it’s typically easier for me to tweak colors on a figure than the ones in the background. in the above example with kenny, the background is a mostly solid black with a beam of light from the left. i picked kenny’s colors to fit in this environment.

it’s also important to use references.

you can see in this wip i’ve got a reference image for how light from a TV looks against figures and the way their shadows are cast across the wall. it also helped me figure out what colors to use in this situation.

a lot of coloring is just trial and error to see what works. i usually start with a flat base color and add value to it. if you put all your colors on different layers it’s really easy to change them quickly.

here’s an example:

i got my base colors down and here i can see the skin tone is blending with the background, so i lightened it up for better contrast

i typically shade the skin first, then clothes. you can see here i did a dull skin tone with a bright colored shadow. this adds more contrast and interest. i always try to avoid doing dull shadows where you shift toward black. black shadows are really uninteresting and they can make your piece look muddy. i’ll typically shade with an orange, red, blue, or purple.

the final piece has a really bright highlight on it coming from behind. this just adds more visual interest and contrast. you can also see i’ve gone back into the pink shadows and added an even lighter, brighter peach value in places to show reflected light. this also gives the darker pink shadow an added outline effect, because it touches the base skin tone but looks lighter within.

^ this one’s a good example of light and shadow (full image on my NSFW twitter lmao). there’s not a lot of color because it’s dark out, so everything had to be conveyed in values. there’s hard light across the stomach and then a shadow over the chest, but there’s still light being reflected up into stan’s face that lets us make him out. the rest is deep shadow and unimportant, so it’s all black.

that’s the other part, color and value determine where your eye is gonna look, so consider that when drawing.

^ consider this piece i drew like a year ago. it has a lot of blues and reds, and originally i was going to make stan’s guitar blue. i don’t have the wips anymore, but it didn’t stand out and it didn’t look right with the image. after a lot of playing around i went with yellow because it’s bright, it breaks up the image, and it adds another color to the piece to balance it out.

the same thing happened when i was working on the cover image for What They Say About Us.

you can see in this really early wip that i’d blocked in the colors and butters is totally naked. for one, i was like “damn that kid is WAY too naked in this image” and he also blended in with stan and cartman. additionally, there was a lot of warm colors on the left, a lack of color on the right, and an overall lack of blue.

first change i made was throwing a shirt on him and it made a huge improvement. the image looks much more balanced now and he’s not super distracting with his naked-ness.

other than that, coloring is just picking your base colors, blocking in shadows, adding highlight, and cleaning it up. if you wanna improve, look at photo references. look at other people’s art and examine how they use color and value. practice practice practice. have fun with it. the most fun i have coloring comes from figuring out interesting textures like the pharaoh headdress or kenny’s leather jacket.

i find stock photos like this and study them to see how the light works

other than that, the rest is just playing around, seeing what works, and making things up as i go!

#ask #long post #lol

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ickle-ronniekins · 4 years ago

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when all hope seems lost [ch. 2]

desc: George finds himself to be lost: his business, merchandise and home have been destroyed in the war and his twin brother is still healing from a battle wound that could’ve been fatal. He’s living temporarily in a flat in a desolate looking neighborhood, and he’s desperate for anything to feel like it used to be. It seems as though all hope is lost, until he meets someone who reminds him that he’s got to endure the darkness to be able to appreciate the light.

⇢ Chapter 1

A/N: second installment, loves.

pairing: george x fem!american!reader

word count: 2.4k

warning(s): mentions of war, anxiety, injury, mental health, alcohol

tag list: @mintlibri @georgeweasleyx @seppys-return-to-madness @fopdoodledane @fredd-weasley @iprobablyshipit91 @darling-details @laneygthememequeen @lupinsx @keoghans @helloallthethingsilove @dreamer821 @feffffffy @the-hufflepuff-of-221b @62442-am @wtfweasleyy @obsessedwithrandomthings @thoseofgreatambition @harrysweasleys @sleep-i-ness @shadowsinger11 @haphazardhufflepuff @afriendlyneighborhoodhufflepuff @hood-and-horan @letsfightsomeorcs @theweasleysredhair @purpleskiesstorm @hxfflxpxffs @wand3ringr0s3 @finecole @angelinathebook @highly-acidic @purplefragile @90shermione @zreads @susceptible-but-siriusexual @hollands-weasley @andromedaa-tonks @bbstrawberry0421 @princessof-theuniverse @cappsikle @mytreec @imseeinggred @idont-knowrn @flyingserpxnt @auroraboringalis57 @godricsswords @jejegu @annasofiaearlobe @starlightweasley | message me to be added!

The weeks dragged on, the rain continued to patter on the roof of your house, the days seemingly melted into one another. What month was it? What day of the week? The weather had gotten a bit cooler, so you figured you might be nearing October. Quite honestly, you were both too exhausted and too fragile to care, or even to check your calendar that lay across your desk underneath a pile of unopened books. Your mental capacity was absolutely shot. Four months since the war and it seemed as though nothing was getting better. You’d been searching for some type of normalcy for so long; you wondered if you’d ever be able to feel that sense of comfort ever again. You weren’t sure how many more evenings of unwanted sobbing beneath your blanket you could take.

George was soaked to the bone because of the constant rain. He was standing outside of the gloomy looking Burrow after having apparated there. He always stopped by the Burrow -- before heading to the shop, immediately after, sometimes very early in the morning to help Molly with the laundry and with breakfast, sacrificing his own hunger. With all of its colours and multiple stories, the Burrow had never looked sadder or less like home. He ran a hand through his hair to shake out the excess rainwater and stepped inside the kitchen. The first thing he noticed was that the dishes from yesterday that had been piled high in the sink were now washed and put away. Then he noticed Ginny tending to Fred on the couch. He looked more lively today. More alert. The dark blacks, purples, and blues on his hollow cheeks were healing nicely, though the pale colour of his face beneath the deep gash just above his eyebrow made him look all the more terrible. “Mate, you’re looking ghastly,” Fred joked, his voice scratchy and weak and wheezy. George wondered, as he looked down at his twin’s sunken chest, and his limp and shattered leg, if Fred would ever be able to walk properly again. Test products. Breathe correctly. Stand up straight. The idea of him not being able to do any of those things made George begin to tremor. He forced himself up to his childhood bedroom to stifle his oncoming panic attack before Fred could see him cry.

-- -

“You’re telling me there’s a waiting list for Aurors?” Your voice sounded unusually harsh for your liking, and you sucked in a deep breath. It wasn’t this young woman’s fault that so many individuals were looking to enhance their careers as Aurors. It made sense, especially given that half of the Wizarding World had been wiped out due to the war. It was only necessary for more people to sign on to protect their loved ones. The Ministry of Magic, and The Department of Magical Law Enforcement within it, was quite different than the way the MACUSA was laid out. You already felt off kilter being here. You slowed your breathing and gave the woman behind the desk a genuine grin. You apologized and asked her if she knew exactly how long the waiting list would be. Her eyes softened and she offered a lopsided, gentle sort of smile before telling you that she wasn’t sure exactly when there would be openings, but she’d be happy to keep your information on file. If only she knew how many times you’d heard that one. You huffed out a dry “Thank you” before making your way back through the Ministry and toward the street, where it was now down pouring. And where was your umbrella? Of course -- at your apartment, collecting dust, because in your hurry to get to the Ministry as early as you possibly could, you’d left it on the kitchen table. You just let the rain soak through your clothes. You could really have used one of George’s steaming cups of tea.

Why was it taking Fred so long to get better? And why did it look like there was absolutely no progress on the fixing of their shop? George shook out his umbrella and laid it gently against the front door before making his way inside. The sight of the blasted shelves made his insides twist. Their hilarious design of Umbridge faltering across a tightrope had snapped in half; their display of Love Potions had been blasted to smithereens. He glided across the floor, his feet carrying him to wherever they chose to go, when he bumped into something on the ground. Slowly he reached down and spread his fingers against their very first Weasley & Weasley trunk, which now looked more like Weas nd W, for the rest of the lettering had been damaged. His eyes suddenly became very blurry and he felt a burning sensation sting the back of his throat. He’d do anything to be back at Hogwarts now, sneakily selling products to the Gryffindor house all while avoiding Umbridge and Snape and Filch. He’d give anything to be back at school, where everything felt good and happy and alright, at least for a little while.

George had to keep reminding himself that there was an entire storage space full of products that he and Fred had been saving, in case of an event like this. At the time, it seemed like they’d had so many, and in the event of a wipeout, the brothers would be able to restock and resell as if nothing had ever happened. But looking now at how much damage had been done, and how many of their products they’d worked so painstakingly hard on had been destroyed, George truly didn’t know if the spare merchandise they had left would last them more than two weeks.

-- -

When you walked through the front door, exhausted from seeking employment all afternoon, only to find none, you figured you were allowed a glass of wine. Or perhaps several. So you put on your fluffiest pair of socks, the softest sweater you could find, and sat yourself down in front of the fireplace with your wand as you casually sipped on the bottle of red you’d purchased after leaving the Ministry this morning.

Perhaps moving here was a mistake. Would it be easier to gain employment back home in America? You shook your head at the silly thought that crossed your mind. Of course it wouldn’t. They’d gotten rid of you for a reason, hadn’t they? They couldn’t afford to keep so many people on after the war. Plus, you’d already moved your stuff in here, halfway across the world, so there was no point in uprooting your life, again. Besides, the painful memories that flooded your mind at the thought of home made you appreciate the coziness of England even more so than you did when you first got here. It was helping you forget -- about all of it.

You mindlessly muttered spells just to give yourself something to do. So this was unemployment -- repeating to yourself the charm you’d learned when you were eleven, making your belongings float in the air. How absolutely pathetic. You wondered if George felt this way too, as you lazily flicked your wrist and sent your notebook chock full of potential jobs toward your bedroom.

George couldn’t wait to change into some comfortable, dry clothes. He opened up the front door and left his wet umbrella out on the porch. As he hung up his coat in the closet, he spotted you next to the fireplace, and it seemed as though you were muttering incantations to yourself and enjoying a glass of wine. He felt a small smile tug at his lips, because he didn’t realize how much he wanted to do the exact same thing until he saw you.

It had been a few weeks, but the two of you hadn’t gotten to know one another much. Little things, here and there, such as “D’you care for milk or cream?” or “How’s your brother doing?” or “Any luck with employment?” You two just barely scraped the surface; there was no diving deep into conversation. Neither one of you prodded the other -- you both simply kept to yourselves with the occasional evening offering of a cup of tea, and then went on your separates ways once morning came. So when you asked George if he’d like to join you and sent a wine glass from the cabinet soaring through the air toward you, George accepted your invite and immediately went to change into something a bit warmer.

As he expected, it was easy to get you to open up about your life. Not just from the wine, but he was sure that helped. He’d started simple: asking you how your day was. He didn’t realize it would turn into a full blown story about your entire life, but he didn’t mind. It was sort of comforting, knowing that someone else living under the same roof as him was going through hell.

He learned all about your time at Ilvermorny, the American Wizarding school, about your studying and ambitions to become an Auror at the MACUSA (the Ministry in America, he came to find) and how you’d had a great job up until the war, when all in the same day you’d lost that job, your home, and someone very close to you. There was a bit of glassiness in your eyes, but he couldn’t tell if it was from the sadness or the buzzing of the wine.

“But enough about me, complaining about all things that have gone wrong,” you said, waving him off, gulping back the rest of your second glass, “what about you?”

Since the war, since the demolishing of his business and his brother’s injury, George hadn’t once let people see how he really felt. He kept everything bottled up, just as he always had since he was young. Fred always used to tell him that one day he was going to explode from the inside out, but George never listened. He always kept everything inside. But between the brief anxiety attack he’d had at the Burrow this morning, and the very long months of keeping everything close to his heart, he supposed there wasn’t any harm in telling you a few things, getting a few things off of his chest. Not his entire life story (like you, those Americans!) but he could share. He could tell you a bit. Maybe it was okay to open up his heart.

-- -

Somehow you’d both made it to one a.m.; not that it mattered, both of you had nowhere to go come morning, though you’d probably just go about your normal routines -- each puttering around the kitchen, sharing a simple ‘good morning’ and heading forth on your way.

Or maybe, after three and a half glasses of wine each, a simple ‘good morning’ would turn into something more.

George had six siblings, you learned. Five brothers and one sister. He’d left the British Wizarding school, Hogwarts, just before graduating to open up his business with his twin, Fred. He’d played Quidditch at school and was a ‘bloody good Beater’, in his own humble opinion, he was known for his pranks, and when he’d accidentally turned his brother Percy’s hair a permanent bright pink color one day (they’d eventually figured out the antidote) his mother had nearly kicked him into next week.

George and Fred had to put their business on hold during the war. George explained that he’d lost his ear during an attack one evening before everything had unraveled. The twins had gone back to Hogwarts to fight alongside their friends and family (your jaw had dropped when you’d found out that they were friends with the Harry Potter, who was just as famous in America as he was in England) and unfortunately due to their absence, sixty percent of their shop and merchandise had been blasted apart with no remains. Fred had been severely injured during the war, and, according to George, was lucky to be alive. More than lucky, it sounded like. It had been four months and Fred was still struggling to sit upright without getting winded.

George hadn’t really offered up much about his personal life before this, but then again, neither had you. Perhaps it was the wine, or perhaps it was the recognition that both of you landed in this apartment with the intent of a fresh start. New beginnings. Maybe he felt as though this was an opening: telling his truths to a complete and total stranger who was going through their own heartache. Well, not total stranger. You were his roommate, after all.

You were both heading in opposite directions toward your bedrooms after you hadn’t been able to keep your eyes open any longer. You were absolutely exhausted. He caught you by surprise when he called from his doorway, “I lost someone too, you know. So I understand the... worry of starting over.”

You swallowed thickly; you hadn’t gone into too much detail, or any detail at all, but from the sincerity in his eyes, you recognized that look of understanding. You wondered just how much he understood your loss, and if his was the same. “So if you ever need too.. I dunno, talk about it, I’d be more than willing to lend you an ear.” He cupped the side of his head where his missing ear should be, and actually snorted a bit at his own teasing. It took everything in you to stifle your laughter at that terrible excuse of a joke. His eyes were tired and he wobbled a little bit in the doorframe. “That’s the wine talking. Normally I’m really bloody good at jokes.”

“You don’t say.”

“Hey,” he pointed at you and threaded his eyebrows together, then laughed again. “But really. You ever need to have a chat, you know where to find me.”

“Well I’d hope so. We do live together.”

You thought, watching him from the other end of the hallway as he laughed again and scratched at the door handle, that perhaps this was a step forward. You’d learned an awful lot about him in the time it took you both to get through three and a half glasses of wine each. You were grateful. It was nice to put a story to the face you saw every single morning. He was becoming more of a person, rather than just a body living underneath the same roof. As he rubbed at his eyes and continued to laugh, you wondered if he was again becoming the George Weasley he was before the war. The one you were meant to know.

“Have a good night, Y/N.”

“You too, George.”

He was more than just your roommate. He was your friend.

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daaziscoolbesties · 3 years ago

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i yearn for one(1) thing only, and that is to have a nice, simplistic, cartoonish artstyle. an artstyle that doesnt rely on anatomy, but the "movement" of the drawing, if you get what i mean.

i dont want realistic proportions and traditional colors and basic poses and gradient shading, i want funky lil dudes in funky poses with funky styles littering my sketchbook :( but alas i havent figured out how to develop that kind of style yet, my brain wants anatomy to look nice but also i dont want to draw eyes. i dont want to take time out of my day to learn how to draw lips i want to draw a line that extends past the characters face. i dont want all my characters to have pointy chins with curved cheeks i want their heads to be round and friend-like or full of sharp edges depending on their personalities and styles. i want to give them all not-quite human ears, blob feet, simple faces, but at the same time i want enough detail to convey the story or emotion im trying to tell.

ive spent so much time recently agonizing over how to use 3d model websites, using real-life references and tracing over them for practice, color-picking from real images to try and do realism and failing miserably, but you know whats easier than that? funky little dudes. little dudes who do not care if their legs are too long or their hair is too bouncy. i dont want my characters to look human.

ive spent enough time on the artfight website to realize that most people who classify their characters as "human" have the most basic ass designs (no offense to people who like basic human designs its just not my thing) or its like dnd-medieval style outfits which i cant draw for the life of me (ive tried). again no offense to people who actively enjoy and draw characters like that. i just need my dudes to have that certain,,, off-ness to them. tails are cool. wings are swag (especially if they arent even like,, fully attached,, ), elf ears are so wonderful to me no matter how much theyre overused, horns are so much fun to draw, and colors!! i have no knowledge in the color theory department so this works great for me!! the only thing i really know is dont shade with black, other than that i just colorpick from references usually but i dont want to do that!! i want the colors to hurt people's eyes but in a satisfying way. like the character's design is so nice to look at that you dont mind your eyes hurting a bit. like how im enjoying writing this post even though its 2 am and the brightness on my computer wont go any lower.

and then another thing ive noticed from being on the artfight website is that a lot of people classify their characters that are anthro/have anthro features under humanoids/monsters. like i made a google form to find some people to attack and someone sent me in a character with some sort of animal (wolf? idk) arms and legs. like dude!! peak character design i love her. but me personally? i cant draw that shit, its so hard for me. i tried a while back and its just Not my thing. nothing against furries i just. cant. and i dont want to either.

and i got another submission that i accidentally deleted that was like full anthro/wolf-like like my comrade,,, i cannot draw animals what makes you think i can draw an animal who acts like a human lmao. i can do like. very basic tails, and also animal ears but i cant do the arms and legs and such i just dont know the anatomy, and i know i was talking about how i dont want to care about anatomy but i feel like for anthros you really do need to know at least basic animal anatomy so you know how the limbs look and shit and i dont have that knowledge and dont feel like gaining it.

and then there were some submissions that i absolutely adored. there was one that like, was vaguely human shaped but definitely was not a human. they had a dark-ish lavender colored skin and horns and tusks and like goat ears and a sorta fluffy tail with spikes on it and they had wings and such and they were such a pleasure to draw i love them. and they had a fairly simple outfit too, nothing too complicated. and then i also enjoy object head characters, theyre so neato to me. i got one of those and i really wish i had the motivation to work on it cause it looks so fun.

i want to make funky characters but id have nothing to do with them because the only book i ever tried writing (key word tried - never got past planning it out) had strictly human characters in it, and most of the books i read are humans/humans with powers in situations specific to them so id have no idea what lore to make with the dudes. assuming i have the motivation to make lore and backstory because honestly i just really enjoy character designing its super duper fun.

(side note a song about trucks doing the deed came on just now and its interrupted my flow, apologies).

i only have three actual characters right now. one is an original roleplay oc whos design is literally athletic shorts, an oversized long sleeved grey sweatshirt, long purple hair, and demon horns. the second one is my persona whos design some sorta medival knight outfit kinda thing? but not ugly it looks really cool (idk one of my friends designed it bc i won some contest from him but the drawing was on a super small scale so idrk the details,,,) with a plague doctor mask and crown, and shoulder length wavy brown hair, dyed bright pink at the end. and then my last one im not too comfortable using other places because theyre a character my friend is using in the story hes writing, and thats really the only place theyve been used. but theyre easily my favorite and im already writing a ton so ill talk about them too.

they're a sorta elf species thing from another planet, with pale green skin and pointed ears. they also have a tail, its like,, super thin, but with a feathery bit at the end. probably not the texture of a feather but i dont know how else to describe it. they have short, curly, almost-draco-malfoy-blonde hair that when it gets too long they can put in a man bun. their eyesight is kinda shitty so when they got to earth, they were exploring some supply closets around the airship. drop off area. thing. like airport but for rocketships and also fancier. yeah. they were exploring that area and found a nice big pair of round glasses with grey frames. and they also found a cowboy-style hat and a sharpie so they wrote their name on the underside of the brim of the hat and stole the hat and glasses (but left the sharpie in the supply closet).

yeah theyre my favorite, my absolute beloved, my child, so cool. i want more characters like them but with maybe a bit more snazzier designs. theyre super cool and all but they could have more pizzazz if they werent in a story where its too late to give them more pizzazz. i just want to be able to give my characters thigh-high boots with a bunch of buckles and fluffy hair with tons of accessories crammed in and abnormally large and long ears that can harbor many piercings and horns that can hold rings on them and special little details on their outfits like who knows what but i dont have any characters to do that too, so i have to make them from scratch, which is always hard especially when you have artblock.

and i also have like 17 characters i need to fully draw, line, and maybe color for artfight before august 1st. so i dont know. i have many things to do and plenty of time to do it but instead i spend my time halfway watching repetitive youtube videos that get boring or sleeping all damn day because i stay up too late doing things like this or i just do nothing at all and its tiring and frustrating but i also feel nothing about it like theres no consequence if i dont do it besides you know. not doing it, not gaining that experience, not making something i enjoy.

so i should do it but i dont for whatever reason, i think its called executive dysfunction but im not sure. this post started out very differently than it ended and i said somewhere up there that i was writing this at 2 am but now its almost 3. this is so many words why couldnt i have put this energy into something productive

#long post #sorry its so messy but like i said its almost 3 am and i dont want to go back and format all this #i might come back and make it look nicer in the morning #maybe not who knows #i just checked and this is 1.5k words what the hell

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oncetheearl · 5 years ago

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.Primary Colors

Grell Sutcliff

warnings: none, it's mildly fluffy prose

a/n: Written for @saturnberry. I hope you had a nice Valentine's Day. Because there were so many mentions of Grell in your posts I knew right off that's who I wanted to write for, though admittingly I feel like I don't have a good enough hold on Grell's personality (hence why I avoided a ship with another canon character.) This is technically Grell x Reader as it uses instances of second person; however, the gender of the reader is left open ended.

In a world where everyone is designated a color—an indicator of who they were to become as they grew older—you were born an unremarkable cluster of blues, not bright enough to add to the sky, too morbid for the painters to use.

It was as though everywhere you went, people outshone you. In school the other children were wondrous blends, and your shade felt understated, a waste of anyone's attention. Even the other blues were brighter than you: one girl you likened to the ocean, a sapphire crystal—so warm a shade it leaked into the atmosphere. In class you sat beside a yellow, a cheery snaggletooth boy with sincere eyes behind coke frames, a penchant for silly games, and a willingness to try anything. You knew the rainbow, a brown—tough as nails. She hardly flinched at an encounter with broken glass. A dark grey who only spoke to you once. Even a pink, who laughed with the purples. It came from his uncle, he told you one morning, picking dandelions from the field beside the schoolhouse.

You on the other hand, sat beneath a tree with roots ripped and picked weeds out the Earth, never at home enough in your own shade to cajole with the others. It'd all be different when you grew up, you considered. Adults weren't like this; they'd treat you better, teach you there was never anything wrong with your color—because surely, it couldn't have mattered in the real world.

Yet, when you grew, your sense of loss grew with you.

The world was organized by color files in a dusty cabinet, by designation and molds that weren't intended for expansion. Bosses had those they preferred. Oranges made good leaders, they said, and greens could be consultants if they wanted. Trichromatics were sought after inclusions. But blues were in abundance, and therefore mere grunts, worker ants; those that populated the factories of London's lower regions.

Needless to say, you did not need to ask in order to know what designation the casualties were; some accident in a factory you heard. But you always waited for your carriage here and chose to do so regardless, even though the air agitated.

As you watched the road ahead, out came someone, bemoaning their line of work (an investigator, you wondered? who else would be in there?), glasses askew, near knocking you forward into the pavement before the fact you should move presented itself to you.

The speed in which you felt your chest constrict was maddeningly slow (surely an instant, but forever in your head based on the lump in your throat.) Away you had looked, heart an unruly child turning pans into drums. You prayed that no one could hear it sputtering beneath your coat, that the stranger in red couldn't sense your nerves. The stranger was definitely a red, just as their clothes would have said. You could tell by the mannerisms, those teeth, the flop of hair into the vision. The annoyance that the rain kept pouring and pouring as though the sky had a rip.

But then that stranger gave you a look, and said something, and for a brief moment you forgot to add air to your lungs, the necessity of breathing.

You can't recall what you were told... cliche of love at first sight, and all. It could have been mundane complaints about how the sky was drenching you both, or questioning of why you seemed incapable of looking upward, or where White Chapel was—but you know it had to have been something sweet like 'what's someone gorgeous doing out here looking so glum' or 'what a pretty coat, where can I get one?'

(If not, why were you so flustered, then?)

You would later put a name to this stranger, but for now it did not matter. Grell had been complaining about the storm, eyes upward, expression turned near startled when you extended a hand and professed lunch on the Eastside, my treat, too willing to say please.

Oh, God. What possessed you to, you wonder? You were not spontaneous, or the type to offer lunch to a stranger in the dark. Reds and blues did not go together—because neither understood the other. Though it wasn't such a mystery why, the rain reminds. Red was your favorite color. That jigsaw smile, the collision of a million things into one, twisted upward, and you knew, no longer had to wonder: you liked red, even if it belonged to another.

And Grell brought out the red in you. Made you so always willing to run, to say I'm hungry, let's have dinner. Promise we'll have candles or flowers or a band that plays Saint-Saëns in fantasia.

I'll make it loud and bold, I'll make it red—because you wear it so.

How about the pier? The symphony? A massage—I'll do the planning.

Your hair is quite long, can I comb through it with only the tips of my fingers?

One day you had stopped to ponder, why is it I love red, I wonder?

Why not orange, or blue, or the shade of wet feathers? Why something so loud and abrasive and untamed. Untethered. Why stand out when it's comfortable in the rafters? Why did you feel more red than you were? But maybe those feelings didn't matter.

Your grandmother was a blue, and so was your father. Your mother had developed it one noon as a girl, came down with it like fever. It ran in your blood, slept in your grandfather's genepool, was inherited in your skin, lived in the liversplotches on your cousin's lips. You were a blue, and that was not worth denying.

You liked your books, the ones with the spines wrinkled. You drunk tea in evenings without sound. Your dwelling had seen better. Your wall clock swing was musicality; oh how boring, you'd imagine Grell would think.

Your shade of blue was mute, tired. A housecat slithered under a creaking armoire. An old weeping oak. A desire to rest before time ran out. But for all the inherent blueness of you, Grell never complained: and that confused you. Not even where you lived; an old building on a simple street with cramped beige walls and floors unnaturally even. At least if they were lopsided you'd feel more unique.

(Luckily, Grell had only insulted your abode once, when a long strand of red had gotten caught in the spinning wheel next to your bed and yanked from the scalp. It was in jest—you hoped—though Grell had been incensed and seemed alarmingly serious about cutting the thing apart...)

Fixing makeup in the mirror, spraying you with scents, Grell spoke where you preferred to listen; 'try this' 'no this smells much better' 'a maiden must always be adorned in fanciful arrangements' 'roses are my favorite, you know?'

Oh, did you ever. And so was bright weather, pretty corsets, lace feathers, heels that made the calves go on forever. Every utterance, complaint, and silly trait was inscribed in a tongue known to no one in the valley of your heart. You were a blue after all, and blues were dutiful lovers. Had memories like harp strings taunt; sharp. And how could you ever forget anything about Grell when there was always more to learn.

But you wanted to share that brightness. You'd walk and consider, could I make red if I mixed others? If I took his orange, my blue, that woman's green, maybe a splash of pink for authenticity... would I have a said shade like yours, a color that says 'look at me, I'm worth beholding'?

Maybe the rafters aren't so pretty. Maybe I'd like them all to look at me even if there's no smiling. Be seen. Red stops everyone, always has them looking. But you cannot make red from anything other. You are born red. You are born yourself. You would never have that shade, ever.

Sometimes you both spoke of what it would be like to be reborn, who either of you imagined would be the other.

Grell would be a supernova; grand, the death of something and the birth of another, a force you can't stop. A contradiction, a paradox; the brute with the love of flowers. Grell was red to the core. Wore it as though it was summer. Red was fond. Red was sticking up for your lover. Red was passion, and great things, and goosebumps from too much laughter. A person who in death, found that bold was always inside them. The poet's encouragement to be yourself. Something strange: spring in the snow, a funeral full of smiles. Red and worthwhile.

Grell hoped you'd still be you, to your wonder, because no one knew Grell better. You smiled when you were told, and that's because you're blue, hun. No one would understand those little details, loves, see so well beneath the water. Only a blue would. Could. A blue keeps the order while maintaining the spontaneity of a boat ride at the shore.

It was because you were blue. Because you were you. And blue is a nice color, Grell told you. Imagine how boring it'd be if we were all red or violet or green.

'I'd be bored'

You laughed, because maybe there was a point. Maybe blue wasn't such a bad color to be, because balance is pretty, a necessary evil. Grell had a flair for losing boots in the gutter, sneaking out to join the ball, and you liked picking up Cinderella's lost shoes. You've got a lover who loves a kiss on the hand, and you, a romantic from reading at all hours. Together you'd make blends and yellows and greens and purples; the shade of sallows, the sandy crunch of the desert, capture the sunrise's caricature.

I love your red, you tell. And Grell thinks your blue is quite special. Because it's red and blue together that unlocks the rainbow.

#kuro coup de foudre #grell sutcliff #grell x reader #grell sutcliff x reader #kuroshitsuji #black butler #the read more tag isn't working so I apologize for the wall of text #i swear I'm not usually this terrible of a writer #had to hurry and submit before the day was over but i swear I will fix the spelling errors

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scrutineyeze · 4 years ago

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i’m seeing a lot of ppl tossing around ideas about the nature of Fear & the Fourteen Fears (& some about the Extinction & its place in that), so i thought i’d try my hand at it too, lol. these thoughts have been kicking around my head for a while, & i’d be really interested in hearing what others think about this !

gonna put a warning here just about descriptions of fear/s & stuff. also a heads up: this contains spoilers for all of the magnus archives up to date [6/29/2020] and also i have A Lot of thoughts & can Not shut up, so this got. long. (2.7k) & ,,, increasingly weirdly worded bc uhh that’s kinda How I Write

without further ado: my thoughts on Fear, its facets, & how Old these might be. possibly also featuring mentions of the sublime & various things i’ve read. (i’ll work to paraphrase and/or quote these things as succinctly as possible.)

01. introduction 02. Fear: that it is not distinct Fears 03. Fear: a continuation, that it is in Facets 04. on the separation & age of such Facets 05. on, indeed, why such facets cannot be seen are Separate 06. some closing thoughts

01. thesis: robert smirke is Wrong about Fear. robert smirke believes that Fear is distinguishable into Fourteen Separate Fears; this has been shown to be, of a sort, already incorrect, as jonah magnus figured out & demonstrated with the only successful ritual, which entailed bringing in all the “fears” at once. however, to think of them as distinct Fears as in plural is a misunderstanding.

02. the following are selections from the meno, a dialogue written by plato & this translation is from Cathal Woods. beginning at 71d.

Socrates: … But you yourself, divine Meno, what do you say virtue is? … Meno: M: But it's not hard to say, Socrates. To begin with, if you want the virtue of a man, it's easy. A man's virtue is this: to attend to the affairs of the city effectively and in the process to benefit his friends and harm his enemies and make sure that he suffers nothing similar himself. If you're looking for the virtue of a woman, it's not hard to express. It's to manage her home well, preserving her possessions and being obedient to her husband. And there's a different virtue for children, both male and female, and for an old man, and, if you want, for a free man and, if you so desire, for a slave. And there are so many other virtues that there's no problem saying what virtue is, since there's a virtue for each occupation and stage of life with respect to each function of each person. And I take the same to hold for vice, Socrates. Socrates: It seems I've had some great good fortune, Meno, if, when looking for a single virtue, I have discovered in your possession some kind of swarm of virtues.

socrates then goes on to ask about bees & if meno thinks that they differ from each other insofar as “their being bees” or if they only differ through other means, such as beauty, size, colour, etc. meno says that they differ by other means, not through their being bees, & socrates presses then that virtue must be the same: there must be something which makes each of the attributes which meno listed virtues, and that connecting thread must be Virtue.

imagine, then, that we are talking about fear. (not so hard to do, when we are talking about fear lol.) so it might follow thus:

Socrates: meno, what is fear? Meno: Well, it is of corruption, and of violence, and of death, and of …

and so on—except that meno could, of course, differentiate further than simply the fourteen which smirke spoke of. as said in 111 “Family Business:”

I always think it helps to imagine them like colours. The edges bleed together, and you can talk about little differences: “oh, that’s indigo, that’s more lilac”, but they’re both purple. I mean, I guess there are technically infinite colours, but you group them together into a few big ones. A lot of it’s kind of arbitrary. I mean, why are navy blue and sky blue both called blue, when pink’s an entirely different colour from red?

and, of course, he goes on to say:

I mean, you could see them all as just one thing, I guess, but it would be pretty much meaningless, y’know, like… like trying to describe a… shirt by talking about the concept of colour.

but i would (will) argue that it isn’t meaningless to try to describe Fear as it is, which is as a single Entity. because it is the differences by other means (beauty, size, shape) which distinguish the facets of Fear, and not that it is distinct from itself by its Being Fear. that which makes us afraid—and us here, and likely everywhere, will be in reference to living things which feel fear in general, tho i will try to make myself clear at any time i speak less or more generally—makes us afraid through its Shared Connection to Fear, not through its connection to any other thing or other attributes. if something has the capacity to induce fear, then it must contain within itself the connection to Fear, or its being scary—the way that a bee, regardless of its other features, will always share with other bees their Being Bees, and the way that virtues must all contain within themselves that which Makes Them Virtuous in order to be listed as virtues at all. “that which Makes Them Virtuous,” socrates says, must be Virtue, & he spends the whole dialogue trying to get meno to help him answer that question (plus an interesting part about memory & reincarnation, but that’s unrelated).

(i’m going to say here that you Really Don’t Have To Read the meno. i uh personally dislike plato, esp when he’s not talking about love—but this is neither here nor there.)

03. so this brings us to, well, if Fear isn’t separate, then what are the Fourteen in relation to Fear? i’d say that they’re Facets of Fear, the way that honeybees and bumblebees are both bees, and aren’t different insofar as “their being bees,” but they are different in terms of other things, such as size and shape, so you might call them Facets (or different manifestations) of Bee-ness.

this does, also, allow for the looseness of seeing Fear like Colour. you can stick to the basics—blue, red, yellow, green, etc.—or get into specifics—ochre, cerulean, lilac—but you’re still discussing Colour. at the same time, Fear works similarly; you can speak of Fear of change (which would include fears such as uninjured to injured, healthy to sick, alive to dead), of depths (which is my reasoning against the point in 111 that “[s]ome really clash, and you just can’t put them together” … “I doubt The Buried would be bringing through The Vast,” because the fear of both seems to me as significantly more similar than dissimilar: the fear is often categorized as not being able to breathe, due to a too-much or not-enough, and also as the fear of being insignificant in comparison to the size, the fear of a deepness you will Never comprehend that Will Swallow you—a video i would Highly Recommend is “Fear of Depths,” made by Jacob Geller; he talks mostly about caves, the darkness you can’t see into, the call of the void. he talks some of the creatures at the bottom of the ocean, a lot about various video games, including a platformer which causes you to lose the floor. it’s a game about going deeper, ever deeper, and yet … you’re plunged into a massive, empty space. it’s a very, very good video. cw for talking about someone dying stuck in a cave.)—and you can speak of Fear in specifics, even more into detail than the Fourteen do. the Fourteen seems, to me, as a relatively easy nomenclature for these things, especially as understanding these things involve “paradoxes that most adults couldn’t handle” (111)

04. and i’m not arguing, necessarily, against using such nomenclature. to talk about Fear is difficult—i believe, much like socrates believes in Virtue, that there must be something that we can speak to which will succinctly categorize all that we find Scary, but, just like socrates and his search for Virtue rather than the naming of virtues, i find myself at a loss. i have my own thoughts on its connection to the sublime, & how terror and awe meet—how i find it impossible to separate the two, and other thoughts on how perhaps calling what i’m speaking of Fear is a reduction of what it Is—but i think putting those thoughts in another meta is a better organization of my thoughts.

so to talk about Fear in a much more manageable way, to talk about it in its particulars, in its Facets, allows us to better speak to it, just as, when trying to speak of Bravery, one does not need to speak of all things Virtuous.

however, i do believe it important to bear in mind the distinction between something being a Facet of Fear, and something being A Separate Fear. this is when we come to the “age” of various “fears,” or facets. this is another point at which i believe that robert smirke is wrong. he believes that the flesh is the youngest entity, that the end is old & so is the dark—and i’ve seen further speculation from there, about the eye being young—which, in light of how the eye (or, at least, jonah magnus, which i think is more likely, as it does seem Fear is malleable based on belief—as it should be, if it is to reflect our Fear) feels about children’s fears (cf. “Night Night,” ep. 173), i’ve seen quite a bit about

in order for fear to exist, the Fear must have been there since the first time fear was felt—or must have been created simultaneously with it, or some such thing. if Fear is indeed how i’ve described it, and smirke took the easy way out by calling it by its Facets as meno did Virtue, then i would argue against the saying that one facet of Fear is older than another—especially because the difference seems only to be in how close one pays attention.

consider the hunt and the eye, for a moment. at first glance—indeed, likely from smirke’s point of view—the hunt would be an older fear than the eye. we understand the hunt to be the fear of being chased, the fear of being made prey, the fear of predators lurking or stalking or hunting. and we understand the eye to be the fear of being watched, seen, known, of having our secrets brought into the light—the eye, as i’ve seen algie @equalseleventhirds say (along with a great deal of other things that i find highly interesting! they have had a lot to say about the connection between fears—fear soup is the nomenclature there—& also about jonah’s effect on the apocalypse & the distinction of Fear that we’ve seen in season five; all of this i highly recommend checking out) is younger than others, and from how these facets are understood now, it seems possible

after all, animals have been afraid of being prey since there were first hunters.

except to be hunted, you must first be Seen. how many animals protect themselves through camouflage? how long have animals used camouflage to protect themselves? how many animals Must fear being Seen just as much as being Hunted because, to them, those facets are inextricable?

05. which brings us to the facets being incapable of being made separate. we—and once more, this is all living things which can feel fear—don’t ever fear only One Thing At A Time.

from a piece of my writing (which is still very much in the works):

“Fear … isn’t that separate. The cabin fed on your fear of loss, yes, but also of being alone—of being left alone. Of being the sole survivor. Of watching us slip away—of losing us to an unfathomable violence that hid[es] … you’re not only afraid of one thing, Tim. It all blurs together.”

in this instance, i’m talking about desolation—kind of. 111 describes it as the “[f]ear of pain, fear of loss, fear of unthinking or cruel destruction.” but where does the fear of pain stop connecting to the fear of being prey, of being the victim of some unexpected violence? from “the Eye Opens,” ep. 160:

You see, the thing about the Fears is that they can never be truly separated from each other. When does the fear of sudden violence transition into the fear of hunted prey? When does the mask of the Stranger become the deception of the Spiral?

where does the fear of loss stop being the fear of being alone? if you’re afraid of losing those you love, you’re also afraid of being made separate from them, of being alone, aren’t you?

even the flesh, which smirke thinks began with the industrial revolution, must have existed since there were first bodies. even if included within other facets, there are so many things which force us to recall our own physicality in the worst way. in the disease & decomposition of bodies—in things like gangrene, in the bacteria that consume flesh—in the witnessing of flesh (sometimes yours) in the mouths of predators—hyenas and lions don’t always kill their prey being beginning to consume it—

humanity’s stories are full of reminders, too. we have cannibalism in our fairytales (hansel & gretel) & we have it in our propaganda: horror stories ranging from during the famine in Jerusalem during Titus’ siege—Reza Aslan’s Zealot: The Life and Times of Jesus of Nazareth, “There were scattered reports of Jews who succumbed to eating the dead.” and i think i’ve read of similar rumors spread about early christians eating children, tho can’t currently find any sources—and also in significantly more recent times we also tell stories of various people participating in cannibalism, or of monsters which only consume human flesh, or people driven to starvation (cf. ep. 58, “Trail Rations”)—these stories aren’t new. living things have probably feared our own bodies since we had the knowledge that they age and deteriorate and die—that we must eventually end because of them.

this is also why i don’t believe the extinction is any more than another facet of Fear, just like any other; (from “Rotten Core,” ep. 157) “[p]erhaps it is an existential fear that flows through the others like a vein of ore.” it overlaps with and through and into the other facets just as each other in turn folds into the rest. i mean ,,, how many apocalypse-setting shows/books/movies/podcasts exist now? how big was the “2012 as the end of the world” thought? (they made a movie about it: 2012.) us, our end, & the life that comes after … i’m put in mind of a post i recall going around:

“but we built robots, who have beat-up hulls and metal brains, and who have names; and if the other people come and say, who were these people? what were they like?

the robots can say, when they made us, they called us discovery; they called us curiosity; they called us explorer; they called us spirit. they must have thought that was important.

and they told us to tell you hello.”

06. this has all been a rather long-winded (and somewhat meandering) proposition on how Fear might work—i’m Very interested in how other people think about Fear/the Fears/the Fourteen (& if anyone wants to talk to me about the Sublime & where that meets Fear, i’d ! be Very interested in talking about that, i might make another post about that too). i see each facet of Fear as inextricable—when talking and/or writing about them, i find it hard to keep any of them separate at all, especially when it comes to fears i specifically have myself. what do other ppl think ? how separate do you see the various fears/facets ?

#tma #the magnus archives #magnuspod #meta #season 5 spoilers #ig idk i kinda only referenced night night & an au version of cozy cabin #but anyway yeah ! i have a lot of thoughts on how fear works ! im very curious to see how other ppl think it works !#pls come talk to me about the nature of fear lmao !

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oneheadedcerberus · 4 years ago

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Transformers Review #2

Here I am again with the second installment of my very own incredibly self-indulgent toy review (potential) series that is an obvious and thinly veiled excuse for me to talk about the things I like + substitute for true socialization in the wake of quarantine.

And since he’s the one I keep on my desk to hold my tablet pen like a tiny, evil secretary who is no doubt plotting against me:

This is War for Cybertron: Earthrise Voyager Starscream.

Right off the bat, it’s a good first impression. The shape and colours are very classically ‘Starscream’, which is no surprise, given the entire gimmick of Earthrise (and the wider Generations line, really) is essentially ‘G1, but newer’. Nostalgia is a deep pool that companies like Hasbro are never afraid to dip into, what can you say?

The reds and blues are lush as hell (although I have seen a bit of chipping on the red paint! Blue seems to be coloured plastic, tho), but frankly the grey is a bit dull and boring. It wouldn’t be so bad if the back of him wasn’t such a wall of grey. Face him forwards on the shelf, I suppose?

The orangey-yellow of the cockpit is a nice splash to really bring the A-game of the primary colours, very eye catching, and all of it topped off with a glossy black head.

His eyes don’t have much to bring to the party with how small and strangely sunken into his face they are, especially with the awning of his forehead casting them into eternal shadow. They’re honestly a bit difficult to see. Maybe its a statement on Starscream and his duplicitous nature? Yeah probably not. They are a lovely red when I shine my phone light on them, however.

The face sculpt is a good point as well, with nice, clear features and even a bit of a sulky frown, for extra Starscreaminess.

And even if his neck is a kind of hilariously thin, it does give him a good amount of mobility in his head, both tilt and swivel.

His whole body is riddled with sculpting and detail, absolutely covered in little roboty looking lines and bits and bobs that help bring him to life and help the weapons ports and seams blend in. Much like the colours, there’s more on the front than the back, but seeing how the back is mostly jet as a opposed to robot, and thus largely flat and smooth, I can forgive.

His proportions are just the tiniest bit off to my eye - arms just a touch short and his head just a bit small, but that’s probably so it can fit into the nosecone kibble-hat hanging gracelessly off his back, which I would have an easier time being mad at if it didn’t allow for my favourite feature of the whole toy

would you believe this is the first thing I did after opening the box? Because it was.

He’s got large, stable feet perfect for balancing, stepping over ones enemies, or climbing the ranks. You go, Starscream.

Good, solid legs with no awkward hollow sections. Unfortunately the big ol’ solid stompers are about the highlight of the legs- the posing ability on this guy is lackluster, to say the least

His shoulders and elbows are about standard, nothing spectacular, but that up there is as far as his knees and legs will bend. The knees manage 90~ degrees, but he can’t even really sit down, and to move his legs up at all you need to raise his little red skirt crotch flap thingy. They don’t move backwards at all, being blocked by part of the alt mode. Hm.

But, y’know what? He does have those classic turbine tits, so there’s that. Silver linings.

The transformation is about 30 steps, and once I’d done it a few times I found it to be easy to memorize and a decent amount of fun to do. It had some neat little steps such as folding his forearms around the rest of his arms and then hiding them in his chest- after removing the cockpit, of course. I was pleasantly surprised to find that the cockpit in his chest is the actual one in the alt mode, I’m far more used to Seeker molds using a fake-out for that. Although it does leave his chest with a bit of a gap in it in alt mode. Eh. Give and take.

The actual act of opening his chest was damn difficult and a touch nerve racking, it was stuck fast and I ended up having to pry it open (thank you, trusty prybar thing I keep on my desk) all the while being sure I was about to break it. Luckily, it didn’t break and is opening easier now that I’ve done it a few times. The wings did pop off, tho. Good thing they go straight back on.

His legs are pretty simple, pull his shins open, fold them up, clip them together and click them in place, in a move that is similar (but much simpler) to his arms. I actually managed to get to that stage without the instructions before realizing I was baffled by where to stick his arms. I’m not the best at puzzles, ok?

Or, if you are so inclined, you can skip the legs and make a bit of an awkwardly upright gerwalk

y’know. If you really wanna.

Once you get through all the major steps, the alt mode snaps together pretty satisfyingly.

The nosecone really beefs up the length of this thing (it’s actually a bit too long for the lightbox I use for my photos, damn), and the sheer jet-ness of this alt mode makes me kinda want to woosh it around the room making my own low-flying aeroplane sound effects. So I did. At least I resisted the urge to toss him. For now.

On the downside, the underside kinda shatters the illusion a bit. He’s head is well hidden, if technically still visible if you know where it is, but damn does his torso look like a torso. The rest of him might be disguising itself as not-a-body a bit better, but it sure as shit ain’t disguising itself as a jet. And there’s no landing gear. *Siiigh* I suppose you can’t have everything.

The topside, while very jet-y, is a bit of a slab of grey as well. Only the touches of red, white and blue and the lovely purple Decepticon badges stop it from looking kinda unfinished. But, hey the cockpit is semi-transparent, and you can just about make out a lil seat in there for a hypothetical pilot which I think is cute for some reason :). My one issue with the topside is the weapons port smack dab right in the middle there, like some kind of space-robot blowhole.

As for accessories go, he comes with his two null rays and that’s about it. They got well on his arms in robot mode and on his wings for the alt mode (or you can stick one in the blowhole if you really want, I suppose?), but he can’t really hold them in his hands like pistols, just in case you wanted him to do that.

They go pretty well on either his upper arms, as I prefer, or you can turn his arms and put them on his forearms if you so desire.

Sadly, no crown... though I’m sure one is available online if you really, really want.

His box, strangely enough, doesn’t have a secret code in it to fit with the Earthrise gimmick of decoding a star map. It did come with the little red bit of plastic for finding the codes, however.

In conclusion: The alt mode is pretty great and a lot of fun to play with, and I’m pretty happy with this to be the main Starscream of my collection and I‘m certainly not hankering for a new one anytime soon, I do kinda wish he had better posing. And the disappointing legs almost make me wish I gotten the Siege one instead, which I hear has some pretty amazing legs, with super deep knees. Fortunately for me I am a bit of a sucker for an Earth jet alt mode over a Tetrajet, so I can’t despair too much.

And he does do a superb job holding my pen.

Like so.

#i am a dumb #transformers #maccadam #starscream #toy review #transformers earthrise #im playing with my toys #yeah thats gonna be my tag for tf toy posts now i guess

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writethehousedown · 4 years ago

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And The Livin's Easy, Chapter Seven (Multi) - Zyan

a/n: I DID IT! kinda at the last moment, but here she is. we’ve reached yet another end. thanks for reading fellas! sideblog for crying about the ending with me is @chachkisalpaca - a million thanks to frey for beta-ing this.

Summer of 2021, a year later.

Vanessa launches herself into Crystal’s arms when she sees her step foot onto the beach.

“You came!” She screeches so loud it hurts her ears. But she doesn’t complain, she’s missed Vanessa a whole lot. Crystal just hugs her tighter, lifting her up.

“Of course I came! I missed you, bitch,” she exclaims, settling her on the ground again. Vanessa takes her hand and guides her where she and Kameron are settled. “I gotta say though, if you made me stop on my way back home after losing to Shea Couleé in Hawaii, just to see you lose tomorrow, I’m done being friends with you,” Crystal deadpans, and Vanessa briefly lets go of her hand to playfully smack her.

Hawaii hadn’t been half as bad this year compared to the last one, considering she ended up in the fifth place, so the second place was an upgrade, and she did spend a great time while she was there — though Vanessa didn’t join her, preferring instead to stay in California in order to practice for an upcoming competition she was sure she would excel in thanks to most surfers being in Hawaii, but she still had April and Jaida to hang out with.

Things with Jaida were cooler now; they had managed to become actual friends and whatever awkwardness from the past was resolved. She still was her usual self, though this time around she seemed goofier and way more laid back. Crystal wonders if it has to do with that contact in her phone —“Babe” with three purple hearts— and the fact she’s also making a stop in California before returning to Milwaukee.

“Shush, you know I’ll win,” Vanessa says with a cocky grin, and her confidence makes her think that she’ll indeed destroy the competition.

They make small talk as they navigate their way back to Vanessa and Kameron’s blanket; Crystal asks how life is going since they moved in together on their one year anniversary, and Vanessa looks oh so radiant as she tells her how every morning and night is better than the last one, and that family reunions with Brooke aren’t as awkward as they could be thanks to them getting their shit together and talking things out.

Crystal asks if Plastique and Brooke are still a thing, and Vanessa shrugs, says she hasn’t talked with Brooke since the summer’s started, but last thing she knew was that they were visiting Plastique’s family in Vietnam over the summer and that the tickets were already paid for. Or that’s what Yvie told her, anyway, when she made a quick stop in California before heading to Hawaii to see her girlfriend.

Kameron is as strong as ever and almost crushes Crystal in a hug that leaves her breathless.

“Always a pleasure to see you, Kam,” she says, and Kameron laughs wholeheartedly upon seeing her expression.

“How are you, Crys? Where’s your surfboard? I thought I could get some cool photos of you and ‘Ness,” Kameron inquires, reaching for her professional camera carefully tucked in her backpack.

“Ah, I left it at my hotel room. I was having lunch when Vanj told me y’all were here already, and the restaurant was a few streets down, so.” She shrugs, taking the hair tie on her wristband to try and collect her short hair in a low ponytail.

“Aw, d’you have money to rent one? I wanted to beat you like Shea Couleé beat you in Hawaii, so I can have a taste of how it’ll feel to win tomorrow,” Vanessa teases her, placing her head on Kameron’s shoulder. Crystal rolls her eyes, both due to Vanessa’s cockiness and how disgustingly cute they are.

“You talk a big game, but I’m sure that I can beat you harder than Shea Coulee beat me!” Crystal retorts, earning a loud laugh from Kameron and Vanessa. She laughs too, and proceeds to tell Vanessa she has enough to rent a surfboard for maybe an hour. Vanessa claps excitedly, grabbing her hand and guiding her to the rental shack, before giving Kameron a quick kiss, promising to be back in a second.

Crystal rolls her eyes again. She can’t stand affection right now, not when she told her latest girl she was leaving yesterday and she stood her up at the airport, not even bothering to send her a goodbye text.

It’s disappointing, because she thought maybe this girl was like Gigi and she cared the tiniest bit about her.

But Gigi is unique. There probably won’t be anyone like her ever again, and Crystal is at peace with that for some odd reason.

They tried to stay in contact once they left Honolulu, but life is hectic, and it was becoming quite hard to juggle college, her job, and texting a girl half a country away on the regular. The last time they talked was on Crystal’s birthday, a simple “Happy birthday, babe!” with a heart and a globe emoji attached to it. Crystal liked the message and replied with a polite ‘thank you’, and that was it.

She tries to remember where in California Gigi said she was from. Maybe, if there’s the tiniest bit of coincidence that she lives near, they can have a movie-like reunion and revive those three weeks together, but she doesn’t get her hopes up.

Maybe Gigi doesn’t hate beaches that much after all.

Well, she can’t say that right now, not when she’s the only one without a girlfriend to spend summer with — Brita is going out with a girl from her class, after she spent all year long complaining about her and her shit attitude, Jan has a long distance girlfriend whom she talks with every day and swears is coming to see her before summer ends, and Jackie and Nicky are so sweet together it’s disgusting.

She feels left out, somehow. Probably because all they talk about in recent times is their partners and love lives, and Gigi hasn’t had a proper date since April, when they set her up with a senior called Pearl and their date went awful. She’s pretty sure Pearl is now dating someone else, though.

“Geeg, do you wanna come with me to get a smoothie?” Brita asks, sounding only a little bit impatient. Gigi cocks a sly brow when she notices it’s the second time in the hour she’s going for a smoothie.

“Brita, for the last time, Aiden is working and you shouldn’t be spending all your money on smoothies. The chemical bathrooms are a mess,” Jackie scolds her, briefly stopping running her fingers through Nicky’s hair, who’s lying across Jackie’s lap.

Brita folds her arms, saying, that ‘for the last time, it has nothing to do with the fact Aiden works there’, when suddenly Jan shoots up and runs off, leaving all the girls surprised.

They call for her and try to follow her as well as they can, when they spot her running into a woman’s arms, and the woman lifts her from the ground, spinning her around. They kiss while Jan is in the air, and Gigi can’t help but to roll her eyes.

Great, another pair of lovebirds she has to put up with.

Jan meets them back at their spot after kissing her girlfriend for what felt like a lifetime and introduces her as Jaida. Gigi vaguely remembers her from somewhere else.

“We met last year in Hawaii, and went out while Jay was there! We’ve been texting a lot since then, and remember that I went to Milwaukee for winter break?” Jan explains excitedly, snuggling closer to Jaida with each word she speaks. Gigi tries not to roll her eyes when Jan tells them, for maybe the hundredth time, how Jaida asked her to be her girlfriend when she visited her over winter break. Jan kisses Jaida’s cheek once she’s done talking, and Jaida just smiles brightly.

“I couldn’t pass the opportunity! You had me hooked since the moment I met you, and since this was my senior year, y’know, I thought we could make it work once I graduated,” Jaida says, bringing Jan closer by her waist and kissing her forehead.

“What were you studying?” Nicky inquires.

“I’m a communications major, and as of now I’m trying to get a job around here, so I can finally move out of my little town. And, ‘sides Jan, the beach here is always a plus. It’s a surfer’s dream,” Jaida explains, chuckling softly, and soon she’s bombarded with questions about her sport.

The fact she’s a surfer makes Gigi think of Crystal. She could’ve also had a surfer girlfriend if she tried hard enough to make it work, but she guessed that just wasn’t meant to be like Jaida and Jan.

She thinks of asking Jaida about Crystal, but decides against it. She still has Crystal’s Instagram and follows her page religiously. All she has to do is send her a text, but she doesn’t have the courage to do so after so much time having passed.

“Hey, girls? I’m gonna get ice cream, I’ll be back in a moment,” Gigi announces, grabbing her phone and shoving a couple of dollars into her phone case. She’s running away from the lovey-dovey couples more than anything, though she could also use some ice cream to help her cope.

She walks aimlessly around the beach, trying to remember where she saw the ice cream stand, avoiding children that are running around with water guns in their hands and screeching like banshees. Some beach balls are thrown her way, and she kicks them back with ease, dismissing the people that scream ‘I’m sorry’ towards her.

Gigi has learned to appreciate the unique chaos of the beach, even if she still gets annoyed at little things like the long queues to buy ice cream, and the disgusting chemical bathrooms. In the end, these are little details in the grand scheme of things.

Crystal taught her that.

It’s stupid how often she thinks about Crystal. When she starts forgetting the sound of her voice, she replays the audio messages she sent her. And sometimes, if she concentrates hard enough, she can feel the ghost of a kiss burning on her neck.

Perhaps she should download Tinder again and get a grip.

Gigi finally finds the ice cream stand she was looking for and buys the biggest cone there is, with scoops of vanilla, strawberry, and chocolate. She likes to keep it classy.

She’s slowly making her way back as she licks the Ice cream, wondering if her friends would believe her if she said she has a headache and is going home. Gigi really has no will whatsoever to sit through an entire evening of her friends rubbing their relationships in her face, while she’s painfully—

“Gigi?”

Gigi freezes mid-movement, looking for that voice she’s heard one too many times through audio messages. She finds the owner of said voice standing a few feet away, with her hair, that was once long and ebony, cut above her shoulders, dyed in a deep green that looks almost black, wearing a stupid yellow Hawaiian shirt over a red bikini, holding a surfboard under her arm.

She blinks repeatedly before realizing it’s not her mind playing a trick on her. It really is Crystal who’s approaching her.

“Crystal,” she manages to say, staring at her. Crystal’s smile is still the same, and her plump lips are as kissable as ever. She has a new piercing in her belly button; Gigi thinks it suits her. “It’s— I didn’t— You’re in California,” Gigi blurts out, and Crystal smirks.

“I am, yeah. I arrived this morning,” she says, a blush creeping onto her cheeks, but Gigi decides to think it’s a sunburn. “I was gonna, uh, I was gonna practice with Vanessa for a bit. She’s got a competition tomorrow, here,” Crystal comments awkwardly, making Gigi wonder where has the cheeky Crystal she knew gone.

“Are you participating too?” She asks, licking her melting ice cream.

Crystal shakes her head no, much to Gigi’s surprise.

“Oh, no, I’m sitting this one out. I didn’t have the time to sign up for this one; I was in Honolulu for another competition, like every year. I came in second. I did get a consolation prize and some money, though,” Crystal explains, going from excited to disappointed, and excited again in the span of a few seconds. Gigi giggles; she’s missed Crystal’s enthusiasm.

“How long are you staying?” Gigi asks, with a tinge of hopefulness in her tone. Crystal smiles softly, tapping on the surfboard.

“Like, three days,” she replies, biting her lower lip. Gigi’s heart sinks for a moment, but she continues. “You think that’s enough time to catch up before I’m back to Missouri?” Crystal asks, sounding way too sheepish.

A smile spreads on Gigi’s face, immediately thinking of all the things they can do together while she’s in the city, and a squeal of happiness escapes her mouth before she realizes.

“Oh my God, yes! I mean, it’s not as much time as I would want, but we could make it work,” Gigi assures her, and Crystal nods, giving her a toothy smile.

“We can make it work,” she repeats. Gigi nods dumbly, licking her ice cream again when she feels her hand get sticky with the melted cream. Crystal stifles a laugh. “I have to catch up with Vanjie, but, uh, do you wanna go for a swim together when I’m done?” Crystal asks, as if she didn’t know Gigi would say yes.

Gigi nods, and Crystal is already turning around to go to her friend, when Gigi tugs on her arm. She turns around, careful as not to smack any kid with her surfboard, and before she can say anything, Gigi steals a kiss from her.

“I’ve missed you,” she breathes out against her lips, and she can feel Crystal smiling before kissing her back.

“Summer’s way funnier with you,” she mumbles in response, forgetting about Vanessa, who’s waiting for her. The only thing she can think of right now is Gigi and how much she’s missed her lips.

19 notes · View notes

zankivich · 5 years ago

Text

The Arrangement: CEO’s Son/Dom!Shawn x Black Sub Reader Chapter 4

a/n: hi I'm back! Please don’t hate me tbh. The semester is off to a crazy start for me already, I don't think Senior year is gonna go down without a fight. I’m really excited for these babies tbh. Shit’s about to get real so strap yourself in tight!!!!!

WARNINGS: deep throating, oral (female receiving), oral (male receiving), restraints, general Dom-ness?

*y/n’s point of view*

The only good thing about bougie ass dinners with industry people is playing dress up. Nothing else good could come out of a bunch of rich people throwing themselves a dinner to network and do a raffle for charity so that no one notices how pointless the dinner was. New York was notorious for them. More so than even LA maybe. But, however much you hated them wasn’t going to stop you from attending. It was important for the company that you go. You figured a little pampering session was the least that you deserved.

Somewhere along the line you stopped having to visit beauty shops with black plastic bags that contained your hair for the event. At some point a hair stylist started showing up at your apartment. You stopped paying in cash and started having Tiana pay the bill. Things had changed a lot actually. But the quality of your hair? Sis, that was a standard that must be improved upon and maintained.

One cannot imagine the power of a lacefront until it has adorned your head. Think Beyonce on stage with the jet of a thousand fans whooshing through her hair. Only without the networth or discography. Tonight you were going for something a little unorthodox, a little outside of your comfort zone. Purple to be exact. But not just any purple. It was this rich, vibrant shade of purple. The roots started out black which made it a little more natural looking and this beautiful wig was sitting at twenty-six inches long meaning you were finna be looking GWOOD. Yes with the ‘w’, too.

“Ooooooo child! Would you look at me?! Where did she come from looking so pretty? Sheesh!” You cackled at the mirror.

Tiana laughed right along with you as your stylist did some finishing touches to make sure your wig was glued for the rest of the night.

“If you’re done loving on yourself we gotta get you into your dress and make up in less than thirty minutes.”

“Oh shit, girl why didn’t you say somethin’?”

Tiana just rolled her eyes. She had said something. At least three times. Woops.

Your dress for the evening was one of those dresses that one didn’t get to eat meals in because any added weight might make the zipper burst. Usually you were a flowly type of gal, a fuck the patriarchy type of gal. But the dress was silk and free so like...just this once.

In the car to the event, you work on emails for your artists, while Tiana works on emails for you. You were probably moving in the direction of needing to hire more bodies, hell you knew your clients were pulling in enough work on their own, but it was hard to give up the duo, the dream team. You craved the intimacy of having your best friend with you always, and you weren’t ready to let anyone else invade that space yet.

“Can we leave this thing early and go get burger king or somethin’?” You whined leaning on her shoulder.

Tiana, never one to be out done, was in her own outfit for the night. It was a sparkly beaded dress with extremely intricate detailing on the bodice. She was thicker than even you were, boobs and ass and thighs galore with a tummy to match that she was just as proud of. All of this exquisite body was draped for the gods that night, the way that she deserved. Her hair remained natural for the night but tied up into these beautiful knots in a row of three on her head. She was beautiful and perfect. You loved her infinitely.

She snorted softly. “We have to stay until at least dessert has been served. But I see no reason not to hit up some food afterwards.”

“How tipsy can I be and still get away with it tonight?”

“Hmm...I think if you do more than four vodka-crans you might start asking people if their families owned slaves.”

You purse your lips in annoyance. “But that’s my favorite question! I never get to have fun. Shit.”

Post the whole hitting number one on Forbes 30 under 30 list, you had to start doing the whole red carpet thing. Cameras weren’t your favorite, and you liked the flash of them even less. However, Black Women didn’t exactly get to the position you were in very often, and so you’d smile and pose a little if it meant some little black girl from queens sitting at home might see it and create the thought in her head that she could get there to. Cause she needed to. There needed to be more. It wasn’t even an option.

It’s on that red carpet that you see him. Why it had never occurred to you that he would be there you weren’t quite sure. But it didn’t. And you were left floundering in the middle of a million cameras as you witnessed your fuck buddy walk out in a deep maroon, red suit like the goddamn devil he was. You bit your lip as he ran his fingers through his hair and slid his hand into the pocket of his perfectly tight pants while he smoldered for the camera. Jesus.

“Bitch you are making dick sucking eyes in the middle of this red carpet! Get. It. Together.” Tianan hissed in your ear.

“I--I am so sorry. I’m together. Together. I promise.” You whispered.

You cleared your face, teeth resetting into your famous smile. Your fingers rested on your thigh and hip for that perfect pose. Maybe you settled your hair a little more over your shoulder. The photographers were impressed, as they should be, and called for a little more action. There’s no way you let your eyes roam over to see if he was staring. There was no need. You could feel the heat in which he stared, nearly felt the zipper on the back of your dress come undone with it. Hmmm. Sounds about right. Men, so obvious.

Eventually you turned to let Tiana lead you to the next section of carpet. Unfortunately there was nowhere else to turn. He was there. Hair perfectly nestled into a curly disarray. You didn’t miss the way he licked his lips as you walked closer. There’s no way the cameras missed it either.

“Y/n!” He called, the cocky asshole. “Let’s get a picture.”

Your eyes widened and you turned to Tiana for assistance, only for her to shrug.

“There’s technically no reason to say no.”

And that is how you found yourself in the middle of a red carpet, his fingers burning against your hip as you both smiled for the cameras.

“We are in public.” You hissed through clenched, but smiling, teeth. “Please act like it.”

“I wouldn’t dream of acting differently.” He grinned, fingers digging a little more firmer against your skin. “But uh, you taking this dress off in my apartment later or is that my job?”

You went to throw your hair over your shoulder again and took the time to subtly and smoothly ram your elbow into his side.

“Ouch. Dammit, y/n.”

You smiled. “I must be moving on. Have a lovely time, sweetheart.”

His eyes travel over your back and down to your ass as you walk away. Again, you don’t need to look to know it. You were a fucking dream.

The inside is just as schmoozy and annoying as ever. There’s some violin, harp type shit. There’s a cocktail hour. Half of the audience looks ready to keel over. And yet here your black ass was having to deal with it all. Rude. But like always you and Tiana made the most of it.

She led you through the throngs of people stopping you when it was necessary to shake hands and kiss cheeks. Tiana understood just as you did, that as annoying as it was, these nights were extremely necessary. The better you fit into the crowd here, the more leverage you had to buck the system in your daily job. And you loved bucking the system.

By the time the cocktail hour had ended you had all but forgotten about Shawn and that godforsaken suit. It isn’t until Tiana and you head for your table for the dinner that you catch sight of a head of hair that didn't look nearly as good as when your fingers were tugging at it. He’s leaning on the chair of some other woman, blonder and thinner and so your opposite that it must give the man whiplash. But that’s fine. It’s not like you’re exclusive, not like you’re dating at all. You don’t care at all.

There’s a glass of champagne in your hand and you keep your body turned entirely the opposite way of his, so as to not intrude on his conversation. Tiana gives you a little helpless smile as if she isn’t sure whether this means anything to your or not. But, it doesn’t.

“I’m fine.” You assure her hand reaching to touch her arm. “Now don’t let me drink more than six of these.”

“Four. We said four sis.” She snorted.

You shrugged your shoulder. “Ti, we gotta let loose every now and again. We deserve it.”

“It’s my job to make sure you don’t regret it in the morning.” She noted.

“Nah, fuck that. You work practically twenty-four, seven for me, Ti. I know we’re best friends but like...take the night off. Drink. Eat. Relax. Find someone to go home with. You deserve it, okay? I’m serious.”

Her playful grin dipped into a genuine smile. You were ride or dies for a reason.

She leaned closer and settled your hair more perfectly along your shoulder as a guise to whisper in your ear.

“It’s okay if it bothers you, ya know? Like you’re entitled to your emotions.” She breathed.

Your eyes widened over her shoulder as the only person in the world with the ability to catch you slipping caught your ass like a fish out of water.

“I--It doesn’t.” You mumbled. “I’m not bothered at all.”

“Okay. That’s okay too. I just want you to know that if there’s anyone in the world you could maybe share that with if you were feeling it, that that would be me okay?”

You smiled softly. “I know. I do. Thank you. I’ll be fine okay? Don’t worry about me.”

“So what...I’m just supposed to go to the bar? Get a drink?” She giggled.

“Yes, bitch. Get several, okay? Put it on my tab. Stop worrying about me. You worry more than my mama does and she worries enough for all of us.”

You pulled her easily into your arms for a hug and a kiss before swatting her on her ass to get her to leave. Behind every successful Black Woman is always another Black Woman itching to see her succeed. Well sometimes success needs to come with some time off. What better night to give her some?

The problem arose that once you sent Tiana off to live her best life, you were still stuck at a table with a whole bunch of people you didn’t know. Except for Shawn. Who you could definitely feel staring at you as you took a sip of champagne. You flicked your hair like an elegant curtain over your shoulder, still facing away from him. Perhaps you had forgotten the kind of guy that he was, that taking no’s or subtleties weren’t exactly in his wheelhouse. It was hot in the bedroom, and annoyingly inconvenient everywhere else.

“So are we just pretending we don’t know each other?” He asked throwing his arm around the back of your chair. “Just wanna know how I’m meant to play it.”

You rolled your eyes in the opposite of his direction.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just sitting here waiting for this unseasoned ass meal to begin.”

He chuckled. “You are about as subtle as a bus to the forehead. You realize that, right?”

Unable to ignore the emotion that fluttered in your stomach, something that was unnamable to you even then, you turned to face him. His chair was directly next to yours, his arm draped casually against the back of your chair with ease. His hair was still just as perfect, if not a little more tugged into submission from the last time you saw him. He was grinning at you and eyeing your lips even now. As if it was a game that you’d lost before you’d even knew you were playing.

“What exactly is that supposed to mean?” You asked.

“I just couldn’t help but notice the glare you sent my way when I was talking to Natasha earlier.”

“Natasha.” You snorted. “Who the hell is Natasha?”

“Funny...She’s just an associate alright? Works for my dad.” He hummed, lips practically at your ear.

You barely sniffed in his direction. “Is that so?”

“It is.”

“Mhm. And why do you feel so inclined to assure me of that huh? Or is that you being subtle?”

He rolled his eyes at you, a playful little smirk upon his lips. You didn’t like him. You didn’t like him one bit. He drove you crazy.

The chatter of the room dimmed slightly as the food finally began to arrive to the tables. Shawn didn’t move his arm from around your chair. In fact as the waiter began to doll out plates to your table, he leaned in even more, let his lips rest against your ear like there was no one in the room but the two of you.

“Doesn’t quite matter who I talk to does it? No one’s my good little girl like you.” He whispered.

Your eyes fluttered over to him before looking aimlessly anywhere else. Your champagne glass. The silverware. The old man across from you who looked like he was wearing a toupee from the 70’s. The party moved seamlessly around the two of you, but you couldn’t help but look for eyes that might be on you. Shawn didn’t seem the least bit interested in doing anything besides driving you mad. He never seemed to be worried about much of anything. You both envied it and were annoyed by it. It didn’t stop your legs from crossing tighter, or your spine from straightening now did it?

“Not tonight.” You sighed. “Not here.”

He released a hum that you’d only ever heard in the bedroom. It was one of disapproval, one of challenge. He hated when he didn’t get his way, and this was you denying him on the thing he wanted most in that very moment. You.

“After. My place isn’t far.”

The waiter finally got to the two of you placing your dishes before you. Something that resembled a dry ass piece of chicken lay stagnant on your plate, with some weird dots of something that looked like baby food. It was enough to get your mind back on track and enough to get you more centered and less dick crazy.

“I--I can’t. Tiana and I are going to Burger King.” You shrugged.

You could see his eyes widen from your periphery giving you the time to ask the waiter for another drink. You might need it.

“Burger King...Well fuck it let’s go to Burger King then.”

It was your turn to look at him, wide eyed and confused.

“I’m sorry? What part of what I just said made you think your pasty ass was invited to my Burger King expedition?”

“I just figured we should take some time to build up our strength for some late night activities is all.”

Genuinely, how did you end up here? Where was the camera? When was the joke going to reveal itself?

“Honestly you must have a script writer or something. There is no way that shit actually comes out of your brain and through your mouth.”

The table around you was having a conversation, but it just didn’t seem to matter. Nothing really cut through when the two of you were together. Whether he was annoying you or turning you on, Shawn seemed to take up all your senses. He did it with ease and with swagger. Sometimes you didn’t even hate him for it. Sometimes you wished you hated him more.

“Have you ever thought about how much easier both of your lives would be if you argued with me less and just let me make you happy more often?” He asked.

You peered at him looking for a sign of him joking, waiting for him to say something smart, something that would make you want to slap him. But he didn’t. He just stared as if he genuinely wanted an answer. And when the time came you were helpless but to give it to him.

“Is that...is that what you’re concerned with? Making me happy?” You asked.

He stared at you for a second, eyes wide and sincere, before his shoulders dropped and he shrugged away whatever moment there might have been.

“‘Course I am darlin’. I’m concerned with keeping us both happy if you know what I mean.”

You rolled your eyes and tried to focus on cutting through the food on your plate. It was barely edible. God you hated these dinners.

“There’s nothing wrong with talking to each other when we’re not naked, yn.” He mumbled between his own bites of dry chicken.

You shrugged your shoulders. “I know that.”

“Yea? So can I come to Burger King then?” He asked.

His jawline points to you and it is as infuriating as it is comforting. You’re not quite sure how he manages that. You just know that you don't quite hate each other. Never have. You actually had periods where you got along quite well. And perhaps that’s what made you the most nervous. This potential for the two of you to get along muddied up the waters slightly. What did that mean if you were two people who fucked and got along? What did it mean if you became friendly, became friends even? You weren’t sure, and it seemed like everything that the two of you might want to avoid. So definitely don’t invite him, right?

“W--Well… Fuck. I guess you can come. But if you at any point start fucking up the atmosphere, I will promptly drop your ass off at the subway.” You warned.

“Fine. It wouldn’t be the weirdest foreplay we’ve gotten up to anyway and you know it.”

“God, kill me now.”

***

When you told Tiana to go live her best life you weren’t quite sure what that meant. But, you knew it had not entailed bringing some random ass man on your friendship Burger King run! Granted he was sexy as hell, but like...not the point. And the fact that you showed up with Shawn tagging along was not to be mentioned, no matter how many eye rolls she sent in your direction. Rude.

“Can we go to your place tonight?” Shawn hummed moving your curtain of hair to tuck gently behind your ear.

You bit your lip, warm and fuzzy from your fifth glass of champagne, and stared at him.

“Mhm. How come though?”

“You sleep better when you’re not in new places. Not that my place is really new anymore, but you still sleep better at home.”

“H--How… How could you possibly know that?”

He shrugged. “You’re not invisible to the world just cause you think you are. I can see you.”

Your heart rate picked up in your chest. You stared at him harder trying to understand how it was possible for this man to do that. He seemed so young, so inexperienced (not in the bedroom of course). You had pegged him as man child, as someone completely out of touch with reality. How dare he see you for more than you had been ready to share. How dare he look deeper.

“I don’t even understand.” You mumbled. “What?”

“At my place you wake up before your alarm. Without fail, every morning. You’re an early bird as it is, but it’s literally like your body enters fight or flight mode or something. We don’t have to talk about it if it’s not what you want. Don’t get mad at me for noticing you though. I think we’re around each other a little bit too much for that now.”

His eyes are warm and gentle and his hand somehow ended up holding your wrist. Even his grasp in gentle. He’s not teasing you, or trying to make a joke. It’s just genuine. Simple. A moment between the two of you that might complicate things if you think hard enough. So, you don’t.

“Fine.” You huffed sliding down in your seat to lean your head on his shoulder. “You don’t like the lights off when you sleep though.”

He peers down at you from above this time, and you get a little stuck on the rosiness of his cheeks.

“Excuse me?” He raised an eyebrow. “We sleep with the lights off every time.”

You shake your head playfully. “At your place you always keep the bathroom light on. At mine? You always change your clothes in my closet and then you leave the light on and the door cracked.”

He goes silent for a while.

You thought maybe you’d touched on a nerve that you weren’t meant to. But, you weren’t sure how to backtrack or talk to him about it. He had touched a nerve for you after all. One that you weren’t quite ready to share. Even with him.

His eyes stayed on his fingers as he played with his rings. You felt calm resting there against his shoulder, watching him. You thought you could fall asleep that way.

“How come you never shut it off?”

You opened your eyes, cheek resting on his shoulder. “Hmm?”

“The light. You never shut it off. You let me keep it on. How come?”

“Cause it seemed like you wanted it, seemed like it made you comfortable. Why wouldn’t I let you do something that makes you happy. It wasn’t affecting me none.”

Another stretch of silence fills the back seat of the car. Tianna and her man giggle to each other. He’s cute. You wonder how long they’ll last. Tianna was the queen of random ass long lasting relationships. She could date someone for two years after meeting them at a bar. She was kind of infectious that way. You thought that maybe keeping her working for you was stopping her from settling down, from moving on to a new phase in her life...She’d never admit it even if you asked.

“It’s just a thing with my mum.”

“What is?” You asked curiously popping back into the conversation.

“When I was a kid, she used to keep the light on at night so that I wouldn’t get scared. And when we moved out to California, away from Canada, our house was too big. My room was super far away from hers and so she would always keep it on so that I could come find her if I needed to. It’s silly but she’s back in Canada now, and when I go home to visit she still leaves it on. Guess I just got used to it.”

You felt warm against his side. Like maybe if he wrapped his arm around you you wouldn’t mind. Like maybe his lips could touch yours and it would be okay. And when he speaks you feel yourself relax and ease completely against his side. It’s not just the vulnerability. Part of it is the sound of his voice, soft and smooth against your ear. And part of it is his nerves, the way he twitches his fingers as if you might judge him. But you won’t. Couldn’t imagine it.

“That’s not silly.” You whispered against his neck. “That’s sweet. That’s what you deserve. We keep the light on, okay?”

He looked at you like he did at the dinner. Eyes soft and gentle and searching. It’s a loaded glance, but this time you don’t look away.

“Okay. thank you. And we can stay at yours whenever you know? I--I don’t mind.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

Burger King is not prepared for the four of you to walk in at eleven o’clock at night, dressed to the tee and looking for food. But the second a chicken sandwich and an onion ring enter your hand nothing else matters. You are zen. You are in pleasure. You are in heaven. You are...horny?

“What in the hell is you lickin’ your lips at?” Tianna snorted as you two sat in a whole ass booth at burger king in five thousand dollar dresses. What a world.

Shawn was ordering you another chicken sandwhich after the first had not satisfied your hunger. But watching him stand at the register with his hands in his pockets, talking to the person ringing up their order was doing something for you that even you couldn’t explain.

“Ti’ I wanna suck his dick.” You admitted softly. “I wanna suck his dick so bad I can’t stand it.”

“Oh sweet jesus.”

You bit your lip as he turned to throw a smirk at you over his shoulder. That was all she wrote.

“I have to fuck him. Like now.” You shrugged. “ I don’t make the rules.”

“Bitch the hold that man’s dick has on you I will never understand. You cannot go fucking that boy in a Burger King bathroom. That is a level of ratchet-edy that I cannot allow as your best friend.”

You turned to your best friend in your time of need. Tianna had been there your whole life. From braces to training bras to stretch marks to breaks ups. She had seen you at your worst and at your best. And most certainly she had seen you at your horniest.

“Ti, here’s the thing. Sometimes I just need someone to rail me.” You offered in your loosened state. “Sometimes? I need to be bent over and taken for everything that I’ve got. Now I’m not picky about who does it as long as they do it well. The problem...and it is a very big problem, sis...is that no one has ever had the audacity to fuck me like that firm, chiseled little beanpole can.”

“Not beanpole, bitch.” She cackled.

You licked your lips in his direction and sighed the sigh of a woman who was in desperate need of dick. What a life.

“I’m serious. I think it’s the greatest, throw my back out and leave me crying , dick I’ve ever had.” You hummed. “I want him.”

“Well let’s get some more food in your drunk ass and then he can throw your back out a little later.”

It would never make sense to Tianna. It wasn’t that you were drunk at all. In fact, with some food in your system you felt pretty fine. It was just that you really liked the way that he made you feel. And he really liked the way that he made you feel. Shawn should’ve been selfish, should’ve been cocky and underwhelming and sucky in bed. But he wasn’t. He was just...good. He was good and whatever it was that the two of you had, you kind of liked it. What was wrong with that?

Tiana got up to go meet her mans, and when Shawn got back to the table, he set your food in front of you politely. Instead of focusing on the sandwich you looked up at him. And he looked back. His fingers gripped the back of your seat and you leaned forward until you were in each other’s space, until your chin butted softly against his stomach.

“What?” He chuckled fingers grazing your jaw.

Too soft. God he was so soft.

“Mmm. Want you to kiss me.”

His eyes widened slightly and his fingers stilled.

“You do? Right now?”

You nodded. “Please?”

He looked into your eyes and his teeth sunk gently into his bottom lip. Your lips parted and you leaned forward, your heart thumping unevenly in your chest. When he kissed you, you weren’t quite sure what to expect. You thought you’d grown used to his kiss, to the feel of his teeth and his tongue. But, nerves nestled deep in your gut as you weren’t sure what kind of kiss he might give you. When his fingers trailed along the back of your neck softly before gripping it tightly. Breath wooshed past your lips as he yanked you forward to kiss you hard, fast, and deep…in a Burger King.

You gasped lifting slightly out of your chair as his tongue snaked in. Your fingers found his hair and squeezed tight, squeezed desperately at everything that he was. Suddenly your whole body was on fire with want, with need. His hands burned at your hips and you fell into him. He knew exactly what the fuck he was doing. What he always did to you. God you hated him.

“Eat your chicken and let’s go.” He huffed barely pulling back to lick his lips.

Your eyes fluttered wantonly up at him. “W--What are we doing?”

“I’m gonna fuck this pretty little mouth of yours. And then I’m gonna eat your pussy until you sob.”

He tapped lightly on your cheek before turning on his heel and heading straight for the door. If there was a chicken sandwich or a meteor, or God herself in that damn restaurant you was not finna notice.

“Bitch where is you going?!” Tiana called after you.

But there was no use. You were practically floating on air after that man like the dirty little whore you were. Thank you.

“Gotta go.” You called over your shoulder not wanting to miss the way his ass looked in those pants.

Outside the cool fall air felt like ice against your heated skin. The city was still alive and bustling, cars weaving in and out of traffic, horns honking, people booking it to their next location. Shawn stood at the edge of the sidewalk near the car that had driven you from the event, but made no move to get into the vehicle. As you stepped closer, your thighs still practically quivering, he turned to you and smiled before licking his lips with dark and clouded eyes. Fuck.

“Why aren’t you getting in the car?” You whined.

He reached for your hand to pull you closer. One second you were standing beside him and the next he had lifted you just slightly off of the ground until the soles of your shoes were nestled on top of his. His hands settled just below the curve of your ass and tugged your thighs so that your bodies were pressed together. It was some Cinderella, prince charming shit that you had never in your natural born life expected. Suddenly you were feeling far more intoxicated than the drinks had ever caused.

“I didn’t wanna leave Tianna stranded, so I called my driver. He never left the banquet; he’ll be here in fifteen.”

You nodded softly fingers resting on his shoulders at he held you against him.

“Should we...like wait inside then?”

He shook his head with a smirk that made your toes clench.

“No. I’d rather tell you all the things I’m gonna do to you the second I get you alone. We don’t need to go inside for that.”

You gulped. Bitch, honest to god gulped. You didn’t know anyone but Shaggy and Scooby was walking around gulping, but alas. What a fucking night.

“What are you gonna do to me?” You whispered.

He sighed softly letting his thumb run over your cheek in soothing motions again. Then he wrapped his arms around your back and held you so close that may have felt like more than what it was had he not began to speak lowly into your ear.

“I’m gonna keep you in your panties all night.” He hummed. “I’m gonna eat you so good you’ll be aching for me to rip them off, but I won’t. I’m gonna lick you through them. I’m gonna make you cum against my face with them on. I’m gonna lick you clean with them on. I’m gonna drive you absolutely fucking wild if I can help it.”

You swore your knees gave out. But it didn’t matter because his fingers were digging deep into your hips to keep you upright. It wasn’t a sexual embrace. It was barely even romantic. This of course only made it hotter that he was talking to you in the manner that he was, that anyone might walk by at any moment and would have no idea the things he was saying it. You got wet just thinking about it.

“Are you gonna be a good girl for me?” He asked. “Gonna let me make you feel good?”

“Y--Yes. Yes, sir. I promise I’ll be so good for you. Only wanna be good for you.”

“Yea? Gonna let me slip my cock between this pretty lips?”

His thumb tugged at your bottom lip and you moaned embarrassingly loud.

“Shit.”

He leaned forward to kiss your forehead another juxtaposition of emotions and actions that really were sending your body through the ringer. How was he real?

“I’m gonna fuck your throat until you beg me to stop.” He said calmly.

The car pulled up at that exact moment but you were frozen to your spot. Shawn was completely unbothered by the existential crisis that he’d left you in, and simply lifted your feet off of his to open the door. As if it was just a tuesday night or some shit. The audacity.

“Sweetheart let’s not keep Jake waiting, aye? It’s rude.” He murmured in regards to his driver.

Surely there had to be a level where this stopped. Surely, it was all getting to be too much. This man seemed to have you wrapped around his larged, perfectly skilled finger. Yes. Too much. Needs to stop. Like yesterday.

“Okay.” You sighed and shuffled your fine ass into the car.

Welp. Maybe another day.

***

“Are the ropes too tight?” He breathed against your neck, lips trailing delicately over the skin.

You hummed. “No. Feels good.”

“Color?”

“Green.”

“Good girl.”

He steps in front of you, his body long and lithe and taking up all of your senses. His thighs flex with ease and that’s before you even get to the sharp jut of hip that leads to a perfectly pointed V towards his dick. He’s already hard and already ready for you to make him feel good. Because that’s what it’s about. Mutual pleasure. You from giving and him from receiving, and within that giving you everything that you could ever ask for. Your thong is soaked just thinking about it.

“You’re not gonna be able to speak obviously, so I need you to tap me three times really quick if you want me to stop okay?” He asked eyes wide and sincere.

You nodded. “Okay.”

“No I’m serious. If it starts to hurt, I need you to stop me. If it start feels less than good at any point you tell me to back the fuck off. Do you understand?”

“Yes. Shawn, I understand.” You assured him.

He makes you practice it through the ropes around your wrist. Only once you’re comfortable and he’s comfortable does he step closer. Your wig now gone and in its place is your hair pulled tightly into a bun at the back of your head, there’s not much for him to grab onto. That doesn’t seem to bother Shawn in the slightest.. His fingers reach for your cheeks and jaw instead, gentle and playful at first and he tilts your head to the right angle for him. When his cock slips into his hand, and he lets the head rest between your lips, the sound that comes out of him is so tantalizing you nearly cum right there.

“So pretty for me, sweetheart.” He groaned. “Go ahead and get it wet.”

Your tongue laves at the thick fleshiness of his head. He won’t let you move closer to get more, won’t push forward at all yet, so all you can use is your tongue. Surprisingly you love the power that it gives you. The power of being in control of his pleasure from beneath him. It’s an intricate play at the power dynamics that the two of you constantly played with. But, you like it. You like it a lot. You let the tip of your tongue trace lazily at his slit and notice the way his eyes flutter close at the feeling.

“Fuck. Y/n, yes. That’s it.”

He steps a little closer and finally lets his dick slip between your lips. Your tongue continues running beneath the underside, fingers wrapping instinctively around one of his ankles to anchor you more to this moment, this pleasure. The second he gives you the leeway, you wrap your lips tightly around him and suck. You weren’t kidding back at Burger King, you were more than prepared.

“Goddamn, your fucking mouth. You’ll be the death of me you know that?”

You slurped a little nosily at the amount of his length that he had given you, wanting to show your enthusiasm as an answer to his question. He steps a little closer now, and fills you more.

His hands come to rest on your head, one directly on top, and the other at the bottom of your jaw. Your eyes finally lock and his lips fall open in lust as he lets his cock slap against your tongue.

“I’m gonna start to move now. I’m gonna give you more and more until my whole dick is in your mouth. You know our safety signal right?”

You nod eagerly. Desperately. He makes you practice the signal again just in case. Three taps for STOP. Two for slow down a little. One for I’m so happy with this.

The first time he puts his whole dick in your mouth it isn’t even the feel of him that makes your entire body pur. Instead it’s the sound of him whining, His legs tremble and his eyes flutter shut. It’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen in your life. And you want more of it. Crave it even. So you let him fill you. You let your throat relax and your tongue flatten. You breathe through your nose and you don’t dare move as he slowly begins to move his hips. It has its intended effect on him, but even more than that is the effect it has on you. Your pussy throbs indecently as his balls tap your chin. The rops tighten as you stretch to lean closer, to be closer. His mouth parts and he moans for you. It’s euphoria.

“Jesus. Your mouth feel so damn good.” He grunted.

His thrusts got tighter, more pointed until the sound of your dick between your lips was lewdy and filthy. You welcome the spit that dripped from your mouth, yearned for the way it made him gasp and plead for you. Was he in control? Maybe. But who was really steering the pleasure? You were. And you fucking loved every second of it.

When he pulls from your throat you gasp and cough for breath, but not without seeing the way the tip of his cock was red and angry and leaking. It flapped against your lips and glistened in the light of his bedroom. Even when you were still fighting to breathe, you couldn’t help but want to suck it again.

“I--I’m not gonna fucking last.” He huffed squeezing at the base to stave off his orgasm.

You couldn’t help but pout at the way he got to touch himself while your fingers were tied. Couldn’t stand that your lips weren’t on him anymore.

“Don’t need to. Don’t want you to.” You whined. “Come back to me.”

The look that he gives you is one of heat and lust and something that’s maybe a bit tender. He cups your jaw again and bites his lip like he’s conflicted. About what you haven’t got a clue. Before you can think too much he’s thrusting himself into you again, but this time with more power, more recklessness. It burns slightly at your throat. The sounds get louder, more dirty, and so does the way he cries out for you. It’s desperate and needy and so fucked out and GOD why won’t he touch your pussy yet?!

“‘M gonna cum. Gonna cum down your throat.”

Your fingers gripped desperately at his calf, mouth stretch wide beyond your limits and he gagged you repeatedly with his cock. The fight for air was long and hard, but the way he trembled on his fucking toes for you was everything. It was power and it was beauty and it just made you want to be good for him. You just needed to please him. Simply because you could. Better than anyone fucking else could.

He cums with his fingers wrapped tightly around the back of your skull holding you against his crotch as he emptied himself into your throat. When he pulls out his head taps your lip a final time and each of you groan for different reasons. You for the air that fills your lungs, and him for the orgasm that seems to rock him to his very core.

“Shit. Shit y/n. That was amazing.” He whined.

You smile softly with wet eyes and a wet lips and a bit of a sore throat.

“I know.” You hum.

He rolled his eyes playfully at you and moves to his bedside table for the bottle of water he left for you there. Shawn quickly dropped to his knees along side you and lifted the water bottle to your lips to let the cool water trickle down your throat.

“Are you okay?” He checked. “Did I hurt you?”

You shook your head. “No. Feel good. A little sore. But good.”

“Yea? Well you were amazing. You’re always amazing.”

It fills you with a lightbeam of happiness that is too much to deal with it. You felt like you were on cloud nine. It was one thing for you to know you were good, and another entirely for him to agree. Another thing entirely for him to praise you so endlessly and feverently. It made you feel so damn good.

He untied your wrists and rubbed his thumbs soothingly into your skin. His lips track down yours and it’s just as good as it was at Burger King, just as hunger filled and desperate.

“‘M gonna get you on the bed okay?” He mumbled against your mouth, still pressing heated kisses to your skin. “Your hands aren’t tied anymore so you can do whatever you want with them while I’m eating you out. You can tug on my hair. You can grab at me in whatever way you need. There’s just one thing you can’t do.”

“What’s that?”

“You can’t push me away. I’m gonna make you cum. You’re gonna want me to stop. But I won’t. And I need you to be good for me. I need you to take it. Okay?”

“O--Okay.” You sighed, thighs squeezing together again. “Okay. I’ll be good.”

He smiled and gripped your chin. “My good girl. Come.”

There is nothing like the feeling of him between your legs. His body is warm and hard and heavy. He roots you to the bed and makes you feel more present than ever. His lips and tongue are hot against your already flushed skin as he kisses and nibbles his way along your thighs and stomach. With your hands now free to roam as they please you can’t seem to get enough of him. The softness of his curls between your fingers. The bulge of muscle at his shoulder blades. The dip in the back of his spine. And the entire time he’s doing just what he promised. His tongue soaked at the fabric of your thong, pushing it against your clit with languid little strokes. If you thought that your underwear being in the way would make it less intense, you couldn't have been more wrong. The fabric was silk and it added another texture against your skin as he sucked and prodded at you. Not even fifteen minutes later and your legs had found their way around his back, toes nudging that divet in the small of it again.

“S--Shawn.” you whined pitifully. “Please. More.”

He peered up from between your thighs with the grin of the devil. His lips were already red and swollen. You simply needed more contact.

“I’ll give you more when I’m ready honey. Be good for me.” He cooed.

He sucks a mark into the jut of your lip and runs his tongue there to soothe the flesh before he dives back in.

It’s absolutely torturous. From the foreplay of his dick down your throat, to the absolute hell of his teeth on your thighs, you were buzzing. The need that seem to build and throb from your core was unlike anything you’d ever felt before. You’d never craved being touched, had never needed it this badly. But, here Shawn was constantly pulling emotions and feelings that no one had ever been capable of getting out of you.

He slurped loudly at your pussy through your thong, constantly flicking the fabric to tap anxiously at your clit. When your orgasm started to build, your fingers fisted into his hair, thighs clenched. You pushed closer to his mouth and cried out widely for him, for his tongue, for anything that meant he might take you over the edge. And over the edge you went.

“Fuck. Ohmygod--fuck yea!”

He let you grind your pussy against his face. Let you ride that high like you rode his mouth. And when the orgasm began to ebb and your clit throbbed again, he leaned onto his elbows and grabbed at your ass to pull you even closer against his face. He wasn’t done. He’d barely even fucking started.

“SHAWN!”

He tugged the thong out of the way and licked you clean, ran his tongue along every crevice and nerve ending. When he traces the very tip of your clit with the tip of his tongue your legs close like venice fly trap around his head. Your fingers thrust into his hair and you let out a moan that you would be embarrassed of in broad daylight. There’s just no way in hell he’s got you cumming again this fast.

He got up onto his knees, fingers digging deep into your thighs and wrestled you down onto his expensive ass bed. By the time he comes up for air, your legs were literally trembling and you heart soared so fast in your ears that it was all you could hear.

“This pussy was fucking made for me.” He grunted licking his lips. “Come here.”

“W--wait, I’m so sensitive.”

He paused, fingers still gripping you just tightly enough.

“Color?”

You bit your lip. “Green.”

“You’re sure?”

You nodded softly and leaned back onto your elbows as he made his way between your thighs once again. He tugged your thigh over his shoulder and settled onto his side to make himself more comfortable. Your eyes met from between your legs as he pressed a kiss to one of your pussy lips.

“You make me wait again and I’ll slap your ass so hard you won’t be able to sit tomorrow okay?” He murmured.

Your fingers reached instinctively for his hair now, tightening into the curls as you threw your head back in pleasure.

“Fuck. Okay. Okay, sir. I’m sorry.”

“Mmmm. Good girl.” He hummed against your core.

He starts to lick and suckle at you again ignoring the ways that your legs shake at this point. His hands are dancing on your thighs and gripping at the flesh so good it makes you squirm all the more. It really does just feel too good to be true. His tongue is like a sinful miracle and you’ve been fooling around long enough for him to know your body inside and out. From the way he bumps your clit with his nose, to the way his tongue traces around the skin in tight little circles. Every part of it feels infinitely special. When his fingers slip inside of you and curve towards the darkest part of your being, your hips start to flail again. He only smiles up at you in satisfaction.

“So sensitive for me. Wanna make you cum again. Can you cum for me sweetheart?”

Your back arched hips pushing closer and closer towards him as he filled you up and rubbed roughly at your gspot.

“Oh. Oh my god. Oh my god, Shawn! Please. Please make me cum.”

He pushed at the thigh that was over your shoulder and spread you further so that his fingers could do their magic. He rubbed deeper and deeper into you, fingers curving so that your body lost all control. This orgasm starts in your belly, warm and firey before it spread through every nerve ending. When you cum it’s like an eruption. Your screams reach new octaves. The squelching sound of Shawn’s plunging fingers meeting the thick, sticky liquid from your heat. It’s all too much. Too too much.

“HOLY FUCK!”

He pulled his fingers from within you and let your body drop back down to the bed spread. Your heart raced in your chest and your legs felt like jello. You could barely breathe and Shawn thought it was the funniest shit in the world. He peered down at you with hungry eyes and the cockiest fucking grin in the world and your pussy had the audacity to twitch again. What a whore.

He climbed onto your body, thighs bracketing either side of your torso. His dick was red and leaking again, your body literally shivering as he thrust lazily against your stomach.

“‘M gonna cum on your tits.” He whimpered fisting himself in his palm again. “Is that okay?”

He pumped at his shaft, curls flopping beautifully along his forehead with every thrust of his hips. Shawn was a dream. A sweaty, trembling dream that made your heart race and your toes curl. In the moment with his thighs tenses on either side of you, and his lips parted and swollen, denial was not an option. You ached for his pleasure, for his reward. You craved it.

“Yes. Yes!”

Your hands grasped at the flesh of your boobs lifting them to be pressed together. Your nipples stood erect and rock hard, and this only seemed to spur him on even more. The best part of Shawn’s position above you was the ability to watch him fall apart. Your dom, for all of his charisma and perfected authority, crumbled when he was near orgasm. It was in those few seconds that you got to see him in his most vulnerable state. Whiny and red faced and just as overwhelmed as you. And god did you love every second of it.

He shoved up on his knees and groaned so low that you felt it in your own chest. The head of his cock barely poked out from his fist as he fell over the finish line, cum spurting out in thick long ropes along your body. He gasped and heaved in elation hunching in on himself too. You reached without thinking to take his cock into your mouth, cleaning the last remnants of his orgasm with your tongue. When you pulled back with a nice plop for added measure, he collapsed beside you on the bed. Both of you were absolutely done for after a total of five orgasms split between the two of you. There was simply nothing else for you to give.

“F--Five minutes.” He gasped from beside you. “Five minutes and I’ll go get the washcloth.”

It seemed like a fair trade off. You couldn’t even feel your pussy to let him clean you up after all. What was another five minutes?

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cruddyborderlandstheories · 5 years ago

Text

im supposed to be working on uh literally anything else but instead i gotta get this outta my brain

tl;dr: slag is causing the Psychos to spread across the galaxy bc the Calypsos are using it to both brainwash their cultists and give them ‘special powers’. i mean, its not just slag, it’s eridian ruins/tech, too, but the Twins are utilizing slag the most. which explains the slagfalls and also the processed eridium everywhere still. im hoping sirens will help us cure this- starting with Krieg because slag/Psychos have some sort of connection to the other dimension, just like Sirens, but more messy. also this insanity from the slag/Psycho-ness is literally Mayhem and us fans are taking part in it- we’re the cult irl. plus, this game is gonna be about love and the relationships we have with the people we care about and that’s all the roses mean because i’m feeling s o f t tonight. tomorning. whatever maaaaan

“… among their fractured ramblings, it is tempting to try and find a deeper meaning…”

“[their madness] defies attempts at explanation or containment. from an isolated region of a single planet, to a nearby moon, to systems throughout every human colony, madness is catching…”

you can’t tell me this isn’t just BEGGING for us to figure it out

so, for my own sake:

i have a theory.

i kinda sorta hinted at this with my destroyer theory but i REALLY wanna go all out in this because i think this is actually something to think about… mostly because ive seen A Scene… and i wants to talk about it, vh. i wants it

now im gonna `lol` ignore everything about my lost legion eternal theory and start entirely from scratch. it’s also 1am here for my apologies if this comes across as incoherent because wow i should be asleep but fuck it i got research to do

so it all starts with psychos. i mean i guess it does. it’s gotta right? i brought in pictures it must

anyway

the guide admits that the first psychos came from Dahl’s prison colonies

the ones abandoned on pandora, now ive kinda talked about this b4 but imma talk about it again bc uhhh fuck it? why not.

so we know a lot of the bandits left on Pandora mutated because of the eridian ruins/the key. this is referenced mostly in sledge’s mine

its like world-wise called headstone mine but i never remember that. SLEDGE’S MINE

notice that line “most went crazy and many were physically mutated as well”

so i think it’s safe to say whatever they found in there started causing psychos to appear on pandora

im saying that i think eridians are the cause of Psychos across the galaxy

i have a lot more proof for this so please sit back and enjoy the ride because i think its really really cool

so lets look at hector’s logs from the newest dlc

“one of my boys found a shiny alien trinket”

“a few boys went rabid already, had to put them down”

now idk if there’s a connection here, but it’s interesting that both times, people who found these eridian artifacts started going crazy soon after

shit i mean even tannis begins to go off the wall after her and her dig team start investigating the eridian sites. although if that is because of the horrific incidents that befell her and her team or the ruins idk for certain. i’d bet its the shitty incidents tho

there’s more to this, hang on…

alright, so, lab rats? they’re pretty cool right?

we all like lab rats! personally, chase is my favorite, but adam is hilarious. that final season, huh? pretty wicked… wasn’t really a fan of the island setting but you know what, to each their own. it’s cool they actually progressed the show instead of staying stagnant. that got my respect even if it moved in a direction that wasn’t my cup of tea.

anyway Q U O T E S:

“Hyperion opened my eyes. i didn’t want it!”

“needles in my eyes!”

“don’t you look at me!”

“i can see! i don’t want to see!”

so there’s obviously something ~fucky~ going on with the lab rats and whatever it is they can see from the hyperion experimentation. we know hyperion had a hard-on for slag experimentation and you know i wouldn’t even be shocked if they were injecting these rats’ eyes with slag.

the best part is their reactions when they’re phaselocked. Unlike most enemies, the lab rats will only react to maya’s action skill, and none of the other VHs.

vs something like a marauder:

who has all these voice lines for Zer0, Axton, Sal (merc), AND Maya

the lab rats will only ever respond to being phaselocked.

and what do they say?

“i see the universe!”

“i see infinity!”

“it’s beautiful!”

(now weirdly enough i was told on the tv tropes for bl2 that the lab rats will say “I see it more!” when phaselocked by maya, but i couldn’t find a source for that. couldn’t even find it in the files i extracted from the game. i checked an online video just to double check because you know, my extraction could’ve been off, but it wasn’t there, either. even phaselocked one a bunch as maya and i couldn’t get it to proc. so, idk where that info came from, if someone could give a source/proof that would be awesomesauce.)

sooo what do other enemies say when phaselocked? usually… they just see blue. so nothing quite as interesting as infinity.

so wtf is up here?

im thinking the experiments hyperion performed on the lab rats are letting them see the dimension maya locks them in. i mean, tbh, i think they can see into that dimension whenever they open their eyes, but maybe maya’s phaselock makes sense of it for them. because they seem to be in indescribable agony outside of it

but the lab rats aren’t the only enemies that only react to being phaselocked

turns out the psychos only react to phaselocking, too

they also have some fun lines:

“I can see forever!”

“I’m home!”

“I’m inside… I’M INSIDE ME!”

with some other nonsense thrown in for fun

so idk, just taking a look at this, it’s clear the psychos and lab rats are seeing something that the other bandits just aren’t seeing. most reactions are demands to be released or that they’re flying, or just straight up confusion as to what’s happening.

is that the side effect of their exposure to slag/eridian tech? yeah, imma bet on it. their mind machines probably broke because they saw something they weren’t supposed to (possibly into the other dimension. the one maya phaselocks them in) without proper ‘protection’ and thus went batshit. like maybe sirens are protected from the craziness of the other dimension because they’re ‘chosen’ or whatever. iunno.

i do think it’s most interesting that the psychos seem familiar with whatever they’re seeing, calling it ‘home’ and well… themselves.

so why in the fuck am i talking about all this? because i think it ties straight into bl3.

let’s bring back lab rats and their experiments

you know how hyperion was supposedly injecting their eyes with slag? and it caused them to shoot those weird blue lasers out?

what happens to the destroyer’s eye in tps?

yeah we inject this bad boy with slag

“i only juice the eye with a little bit of slag at a time”

which ends up causing a singularity around the eye the second time you do it

“if this slag stuff is powering the laser, we need to force as much of it as we can back into the eye. the increased power will trip a failsafe and let us shut everything down”

oh, increased power? you mean like how Sirens get increased power from absorbing eridium? that kind of increased power?

we know in bl1 the Destroyer seemed to have something like slag in it- those glowing pockets on the tentacles that explode into purple goo

even its attacks are like purple liquid. which, you know… would be quite similar to slag (tho tbf, these attacks actually hurt instead of applying the debuff)

and boy does the destroyer not like it

“warning. space-time instability detected.” after injecting the eye with too much slag. but… why? it got too powerful? are its powers directly connected to the other dimension and by increasing it’s strength a bunch we created some sorta link between our dimension and the other one?

i mean given the other dimension allows for teleportation and shit, im not surprised there’s a space-time instability!

i mean we’ve all seen it do the eye laser thing, and the tentacles, and the purple goop. but causing space-time instabilities… that’s new isn’t it? kinda like how Sirens get new powers after they absorb a bunch of eridium???

so i wanna take a guess as to what the destroyer is

we know its ‘immortal in its own realm’ but when it’s taken an actual body that we can kill it, so odds are, it never actually died in bl1 OR tps. i imagine the Destroyer we see in bl1 is just a small fragment of it, and that it’s consciousness can be spread out across hosts. *EDIT: actually the lovely @automata-systemata-hydromata reminded me that you can find the destroyers brain in Helios. The other stuff I left in should be fine tho I thiiiink (thank you!).

and that, y’know, is cool and all, but what IS it??

Jack uses slag to give it a power boost, but it doesn’t seem to be happy about it when it happens. in fact, it even seems scared.

to be honest, all we know is that the eridians locked it away for some reason

idk im just spitballing here, but what if the Eridians were the creators of the destroyer? not intentionally, or maybe it was the result of one hell of a slag experiment/exposure to the other dimension/eridian tech, but we’ve seen what slag/exposure to eridian stuff does to humans… makes them go crazy, makes them start mutating. i mean, look at badass psychos. look at goliaths.

i mean shit even think about bloodwing. she goes wild, attacking the VHs and not listening to mordecai’s instructions despite their bond

she grows to a huge size and gains a whole shitload of new powers she didn’t have before. including fucking fire breath (which we’ve seen in burning psychos)

you know these dudes

i go into all this eridium/slag mutation stuff in SO much more detail in this post here, so if you’re interested in mutations, read this!

so what if the destroyer is just one HELL of a mutated eridian/alien and it plus all the eridium was locked away forever in the other dimension to keep this from ever happening again? because god, i wouldn’t want that to ever happen again, either, and i guess locking away the eridium (you know the stuff used in all these hyperion experiments) would be their best bet at ensuring it. also maybe just… locking away anything with eridium for that long probably isn’t the best idea… maybe that’s why it’s all tentacles and death. maybe they just locked someone away in a Vault as a prison and then leaving them with all that eridium caused them to mutate wildly out of control. kinda like the FEV.

i mean we know ‘slagged psychos’ look like this

i wouldn’t be surprised if we gave them enough slag/time they’d end up mutating even worse. and the destroyer was left in the vault for hundreds of years.

so wtf is the connection here with Sirens? there’s gotta be one, right??? is slag experimentation the first rung on the ladder of volatile science to achieving siren-hood? like you’d have slag/eridium experiments/mutations -> the lost legion eternal -> actual Sirens. maybe if sirens take in too much eridium they become something like the destroyer. now that’s fucked up to think about.

maybe it’s better the twins took lilith’s powers away from her…

oh, speaking of mutations and burning psychos and hyperion experiments, you know what we haven’t talked about yet?

Krieg.

let’s talk a whole lot about Krieg, because he is super important

krieg is important for a lot of reasons.

u know what his teaser trailer was named?

yeah i don’t think that’s coincidence one bit

ahhh Mayhem.

“deep beneath pandora, an experiment has escaped”

we know krieg is a hyperion test subject, dr samuels confirms this (and apparently contracts insanity as well at the end of the Crawmerax DLC)

also we know some other tests going on at the WEP from the quest Doctor’s Orders:

“this vault key didn’t make eridium come outta the ground for nothing, right?”

and there’s this one very very very interesting line by Tannis at the end of the quest:

“the spread of slag poisoning” yeah call it that DUMB name tannis, im gonna call it what all the kool kids are calling it: ~Mayhem~

so… Krieg.

what’s so special about him?

well… he gives us insight into what the hell is actually going on inside the heads of some psychos.

so idk about you guys but i always took this as a poke at Maya and Krieg, but i realize now that this is talking literally just about Krieg. it’s about his body holding both sides of himself.

krieg does appear to be like lucid behind the psycho controlling his body, which, idk about you guys, but for me that plants some pretty horrible mental images of all the psychos in-game who probably have similarly exasperated people behind them who are getting murdered because they can’t control themselves anymore.

and idk i wrote this whole post about how maybe the slag experimentation is turning people into hosts for the destroyer’s consciousness and that could explain all the wacked up psychos and shit. but tbh im not gonna talk about that today

just about slag experimentation/eridium exposure. we know what it ACTUALLY does and that’s mutate the hell out of things and cause insanity.

Krieg is like… the poster child for slag experimentation/eridium exposure

soooo why does slag experimentation make people go insane? could be any number of reasons, but tbh i would bet it has to do with that other dimension somehow. because eridium isn’t a normal ‘our dimension’ element. it came out of a vault. from a different dimension. and who knows the long-term effects of that shit.

i personally had a theory that the 4th dimension had something to do with time and that only Sirens are able to harness this power, but then i have no idea how to explain angel and amara’s powers through that lense, so eh. fuck it. just seeing an upper dimension would make you go crazy anyway, so let’s not bring any time shit into this because that’s just asking for trouble.

either way

i think that sirens are able to make sense of that other dimension. they have some sort of command of it/some sort of tie to it that allows them to not go crazy the instant they interact with it, unlike psychos. unlike lab rats. unlike Krieg. it’s like… eridium is our window into this other dimension or some shit and Sirens are (literally) able to process it, while it just fucks over anyone else who tries to interact. ~kachow i just introduced parallels~

and tbh i think we’re going to use Sirens to help cure this plague of insanity going around the universe. probably starting with Krieg. i mean, the only time he’s able to get even an iota of control is when he sees Maya. “Turn around pretty lady!!” like… that’s HUGE for him. and Maya’s a Siren. im not saying the power of love isn’t strong… but maybe the power of Sirens is stronger. i’d love if tannis helped us out with that. maya, too, if she really did learn more about sirens on athenas.

this all ties into borderlands 3 for 2 reasons:

1. Mayhem being both the tagline for this game and Krieg the Psycho’s DLC pack is not a coincidence

2. The calypso twins are going to be using slag to both brainwash people into becoming cultists and give them special powers

`breaks fingers` this is the real meat of this theory, all that other stuff was just getting you READY for this

let’s put the Mayhem stuff off to the side for a second and just focus on the Calypso twins.

We know they’re promising their cultists special powers and free brainwashes (lol)

we’ve seen that one concept art from the museum of mayhem with the giant slag pool

we know enemies are STILL dropping refined Eridium even though it seems like all manufacturers have stopped creating slag weaponry

and we’ve seen the slag falls in a bl3 promo material already

oh yes

okay so i said right at the very beginning of this document that i’ve seen A Scene that i wanna talk about and oh baby this is it

This Scene right here

look in the very back there

look familiar???

~it shooouuuuullld~

yeah this is it!!!

so what i think is going down: anyone who’s not already insane is sorta ‘baptized’ as their entrance into this cult in the big ol slagfall. maybe the twins have a way to induce slagged cultists so they can have elemental affinities. not sure about that.

regardless

the twins are using slag to drive people insane (turning them into psychos) as a form of brainwashing to force people to join their cult.

so that’s the special powers and the free brainwashing and the slagfalls down.

let’s talk about why exactly we’re seeing enemies drop bars of refined eridium even though hyperion stopped making them. because the twins are making it!! it makes sense why there’s no slag guns still, even if it still exists in-universe: of course no manufacturer is going to contact an insane bandit cult just to get their hands on slag for their guns.

there was a 7 year dry spell of eridium production so there was no slag to go around, so companies started phasing it out of their guns and replacing it with nuclear.

but the twins have recently started production again. they’re obviously not using it in their guns, or selling it to other manufacturers. so wtf are they using it for? it’s gotta be important, it’s holy holy holy.

special powers and brainwashing!

and the refined eridium is back in circulation, so enemies are still dropping it. see? solution acquired.

as for psycho-ness spreading across the universe? it makes sense. not only are the twins using their slag to brainwash people and turn them into psycho cultists, but people are also being mutated by the eridian ruins/vault keys/vaults on the other planets and being driven insane. This craziness is quite literally Mayhem.

Mayhem is coming, indeed!

now let us talk about what the fucccck gearbox is doing with all that Mayhem stuff in the trailers and shit.

sooo WE are the cult surrounding this game. as the fan base.

do u think it was coincidence that they made ‘ECHOnet’ Streamers the leaders of their big bad cult and then also immediately introduced, in real life, the Twitch ECHOcast extension and invited a bunch of streamers to play their demo? they knew exactly what they were doing. Giving away a free cultist psycho mask to everyone who preorders a console copy of the game? that’s intentional. everyone who preorders the game gets a ‘gold weapon skin pack’? yeah! you know what gold weapons represent in-universe? higher standing in the cult!! gearbox is making commentary on how we are all just like the cultists!

AND THEY ARE TOTALLY RIGHT

all the trailers having something to do with Mayhem? ‘Mask of Mayhem’ ‘Mural of Mayhem’ ‘We are Mayhem’ ‘Mayhem is coming’. We’re all insane cultists because we’re all absolutely fucking rabid for this game and they KNOW IT.

…

oh also we’re all in love with each other lmao.

in all seriousness, i think the game is going to focus a lot on the relationships we have with the people we care about- our found family, our romantic interests, our friendships- and that’s being expressed through the roses.

i think that’s why all the characters are shown in the roses on the cover art. why the roses are so prominent in the So Happy Together trailer. why Zane is sitting at a bar with a rose between himself and his clone (as a joke, but still, it’s the intent).

red roses are, like, the most obvious way to show your affection to someone. and we know the bl3 Vault Hunters are going to find family in each other in this game. that we’re going to watch the calypso twins’ relationship become warped as the game goes on. hell, we’re probably even going to have a whole plot about tina and mordy (and talon) and brick being a small family together, and maya and ava being one as well. plus ellie and vaughn have gotten together since commander lilith. shit, guys, even claptrap is building himself a girlfriend.

this game’s about love, guys.

anyway i have been working on this since 1:30am. it’s currently 6:06am. i am very tired and very wired and those never mesh well. im gonna go eat some motherfuckin pizza.

edit: i missed the obvious connection the first time around: of course we’re going to cure Krieg, he loves Maya. and this game is all about love.

that and/or one or both of them die and gearbox hurts us right in the softest parts of our hearts.

edit 2: also yeah at some point in the near future im writing that Hyperion-Twins theory because as much as i love Atlas, i have ~seen some things~

#borderlands #bl3 #borderlands 3 #the calypso twins #krieg #im so sorry this is like 1 billion pages #but i really had fun with it #i worked on this for a very very long time so i hope its coherent enough #i sorta just go on tangents and always repeat myself when i've said similar stuff in previous posts and i feel bad #but also i can't always put in EVERY single detail when im spending 5+ hours on a post just typing all this up anyway #so instead i reference old posts #but i feel like a dumb game of telephone #anyway #im very tired #it's time for pizza

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artificialqueens · 5 years ago

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Free Falling, Chapter 11: Deeper Love (branjie) - writworm42

A/N: Last chapter, Brooke and the others get ready for the fundraiser and smack Gary tf down. This chapter: the fundraiser is finally here!

Title from THAT song from THAT lipsync. Sue me. Thank you holtzmanns for being the best beta and all-around pal a binch could have <3

Also, next chapter will be a smutty epilogue!

The first thing Vanessa noticed when she walked into the venue space on the day of the fundraiser is that the stations had been changed.

“Concessions? Nina, what do you mean, concessions, I was supposed to be on lost child duty.” Vanessa frowned when she looked up at the list and map that Nina had drawn for the day and put up towards the front of the hall they’ve rented out.

But Nina just shrugged. “The volunteers can handle it.” As she said it, Vanessa took a second look at the list, and the sudden switch made perfect sense.

“We already together, Nina, you ain’t need to put me with Brooke for everything.” Vanessa rolled her eyes, but Nina was already walking away towards the next concern, a shit-eating grin on her face.

God, Vanessa loved that sneaky bitch.

She looked up where the concession was set up on the map and headed over. Vanessa was pleased to find that it was towards the middle and side of the room, supplying a fantastic view of the goings-on around the venue. The fundraiser wasn’t opening for another hour, but the room was buzzing with people, volunteers, staff members and the youth advisory council members already setting up equipment, walking through their duties for the day, and completing any other of the millions of small tasks that popped up as opening time ticked closer and closer. The room was bursting with colour, streamers and balloons lighting up every wall and corner until all Vanessa could see was rainbows, bright blues and purples and yellows that eagerly welcomed guests inside. There was a giant stage towards the back of the room set up with raffle prizes and a microphone, and the floor was crawling with game tables and booths, each decorated with big, bright signs clearly indicating what they were offering. More active games like life-sized tic-tac-toe and adaptive bocce took up the centre of the room, and Vanessa was all too excited at the thought of kids gathering there to play and move around.

The most beautiful sight, though, was Brooke in a Charles-Visage Hospital t-shirt scooping popcorn seeds into their rented kettle, a giant popcorn-shaped hat on her head.

“Laugh it up all you want,” Brooke narrowed her eyes as Vanessa practically screamed with laughter, drawing the attention of pretty much everyone in the hall. “Wait until see the hat they’ve left for you.”

In retrospect, having to wear a giant wiener on her head was definitely, objectively worse.

The minutes kept ticking by closer and closer to opening as everyone scrambled to finish their set-ups, fussing over little details and cursing themselves for forgetting big but integral tasks. For the most part, Vanessa managed to tune out the noise, clinging to the rhythm of concession prep to keep herself calm. Brooke, for her part, was cheerful and enthusiastic, chattering about how she used to work at Kernels and how they never used to get to wear gloves when they were working, how her manicure had been saved—Vanessa listened to it all gladly, grateful for the distraction in the form of the woman next to her.

Only Brooke wasn’t trying to be distracting, not really—this was just Brooke when she was happy, and somehow, seeing her girlfriend get so excited only made Vanessa that much more calm, that much more happy herself.

All too soon, the rush died down, and there was silence in the hall, everyone holding their breath as they counted down the two minutes remaining until opening.

“This is amazing, Ness.” Brooke grabbed Vanessa’s hand and squeezed gently. “You’ve done a great job.”

It was only then that Vanessa noticed that she had been shaking.

“I just… I really want this to work, you know?” Vanessa sighed, chewing her lip. Brooke nodded.

“I just don’t think I could handle it if we did all this and still went under. I mean, all these families an’ kids… they got hope, Brooke. We gave it to ‘em. An’ I don’t want that all crushed thanks to a dumb idea you humoured for me.”

“It’s not a dumb idea, and I didn’t humour you–I think it’ll save us.” Brooke’s voice was adamant and matter-of-fact, her eyes serious, but the conviction did nothing to reassure Vanessa, not really.

It didn’t matter if Brooke had faith in her; when it came down to it, whether or not this was enough was still out of their control. And if it wasn’t, what would happen? The unit would get major cuts, if not dissolve completely, and sure, she’d probably land on her feet, but what was the point? There was no laughter in the adult units. No water-toys or impromptu in-session tricycle parades when your clients were thirty and stressed and just looking to get home, not to have the joy of home brought to them and make the best out of a less-than-ideal situation. Even outpatient didn’t have the same vibe; in outpatient, the kids didn’t all know each other and band together, and neither did the staff - you knew who you worked with, and everyone else was peripheral. And if she didn’t get kept by the hospital, what was Vanessa supposed to do then? Move to another hospital, another district, another city? Spend the rest of her career in the community? She cringed just thinking about driving from house, navigating client caps and never seeing another adult unless it was a client or the parent of one.

And what would happen to her and Brooke? Brooke would blame herself, for sure. Say that she underestimated some costs, overestimated returns, whatever kind of business mumbo-jumbo could come to her mind. Heck, knowing Brooke, she’d go as far as to blame the way she scooped out popcorn or some shit, anything she could to explain why they failed, anything she could to take the burden of falling short off the team. And then she’d be gone, whether or not the unit stayed open, because that’s what Brooke did. Blamed herself, told herself she was a burden, and then ran.

Vanessa couldn’t let that happen. She wouldn’t let that happen. This had to work. It had to.

“Hey,” Brooke broke Vanessa’s daze, cupping her cheek with a soft, gentle hand. “Hey. It’s okay, Ness. It’s okay. We’re gonna do great today. I believe in you. And…” She bit her lip, shifting on her feet. Somewhere in the room, Silky called out a one-minute warning. Brooke wrapped Vanessa into a hug.

“I love you.”

Thirty seconds.

Vanessa couldn’t think any more.

“OPENING TIME!”

Before she could say anything else, the doors open, and a flood of people rushed through.

–

“Can I have everyone’s attention? CAN I HAVE EVERYONE’S ATTENTION PLEASE?” Nina shouted into the mic, raising her voice above the roar of the crowd. The fundraiser was drawing close but the energy of the attendees had barely diminished, kids and adults alike still coming through the doors to ask for whatever last-minute, $15-at-the-door tickets they had left. The concession stand had long been stripped empty, everyone who could eat rushing by to trade loonies for every type of snack they had on offer, and so Brooke and Vanessa had shed their hats and begun to run around to help out at the other booths. Still, they were only just getting to the main event, the grand finale everyone was waiting for.

“Thank you so much for coming out today, everyone.” Nina was practically beaming as the noise died down, all eyes on her. “I just wanted to say that I am truly touched by how many of you came to support the kids at Charles-Visage, and how much all of your generosity and enthusiasm has helped. Thanks to your tickets, raffle ticket, and donation-box offerings, we have raised a whopping $10,000. And that’s before we add everything up from concession!” Nina smiled and waved over at Brooke and Vanessa, who had rushed quickly back to their booth solely for this announcement and their moment of cameo-glory in it.

“I also want to say that we have amassed over one hundred new monthly donors, which is fantastic!” Nina continued, her cheeks going pink with excitement as she did. “And also, I want to thank the members of the media who came out today, getting our message of fun, inclusion, and hope out to folks everywhere! So everyone at home, be sure to check out the hospital’s website and click that donate button!”

It was just then that Vanessa noticed a host of newspeople in the back, journalists with paper pads and cameras around their neck and broadcasters holding mics out to hear all of Nina’s announcement.

Jesus Christ–the PR would be fucking fantastic , and Vanessa hadn’t even known that people would be interested in hearing about them. And she certainly hadn’t called the news outlets.

Brooke grinned at Vanessa, and her surprise turned into outright affection, lunging forward for a hug to thank her girlfriend for the amazing surprise.

“Thanks to everyone’s contributions,” Nina kept going, her voice now shaking with glee, “We not only have raised enough to help out kids with disabilities all over the area make strides towards achieving all their potential, we have also raised enough to welcome even more kids into the Charles-Visage community. That’s right, everyone–thanks to your generosity, our unit will be able to expand!”

The cheers were absolutely deafening, and Vanessa felt like she was absolutely floating on air.

She had done it. They had done it.

They’d won.

Vanessa still wasn’t really sure what happened next. Nina went on to announce the raffle winners, but Vanessa could barely hear her, could barely register anything at all. Everything was joy, excitement, pride, and Brooke. Brooke, extending a hug towards Vanessa and pulling her in for a long, giddy kiss. Brooke, whispering another I’m proud of you as they pulled apart. Brooke, chewing her lip as she bit back what Vanessa could guess was another I love you, something she was afraid that Vanessa didn’t want to hear a second time.

So Vanessa said it first, loud enough for everyone to hear.

“I love you too, baby. And I can’t thank you enough.”

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #branjie #lesbian au #hospital au #fluff #free falling #writworm42

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maevefiction · 6 years ago

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Your Light in the Mist - Chapter 43

We departed London for LA on June 22nd, spent a single night in town, then flew out the following morning en route to Kauai. Since March, we’d divided our time between promo, work, checking in on wedding planning and enjoying London. By mid-April Manageall had reached eight thousand subscribers, and we’d outgrown both our server and office space. Phaedra and Diana had begun work on a downtown studio and gallery space they’d decided to go in on together, and they graciously upped their timeline for us so we could take over the ground floor attached to Prosper, with Prosper planning on overflowing into the basement-level by the start of 2017. There was construction to be completed by the end of summer which would upgrade both floors from open loft to more compartmentalized professional workspace, but Manageall’s infrastructure was easy to relocate upstairs and Trudy and I had become accustomed to working out in the open, as had our five employees, so we made do. A door had been put in place between my Prosper office and the Manageall area at the start of May, and the first day I stopped short and couldn’t remember which company I was doing my next task for, Luke and I sat down to discuss the best way to proceed. Prosper was growing rapidly, though not at the alarming rate Manageall was, and the deciding factor wound up being Trudy. In one scenario I had a Trudy that the company couldn’t function without, and in the other I was Trudy…so, surprisingly without hesitation, I agreed to turn the reins over, naming Trudy the Operations Manager of Manageall and keeping my own Trudy-ness with Prosper, where it was needed most.

Early June brought exciting news in the form of Simon screeching so loudly that Tom and I actually heard it through out bedroom wall, followed by a frantic knock at our door at nine AM on a Saturday… both of their chosen embryos had successfully implanted in Lisa’s uterus. They’d harvested ten eggs in total from the surrogate so far, with eight remaining viable after being fertilized…five with Luke’s sperm and three with Simon’s. She’d waited until she was twelve weeks in to tell them, just in case, and if everything continued to progress normally December would deliver the progeny of two of my very favorite people into the world.

There’d been no new developments on that front for Tom and me as yet, and while realistically I hadn’t expected there to have been, I still found myself occasionally drowning silently in anxiety over the matter. Mainly when Simon talked baby, which was essentially every moment he wasn’t talking wedding. Which also caused anxiety. As did the coffee, which I’d begun drinking because it was really the only thing that allowed me to pull off the illusion that I was a fully conscious, functional human being when in fact I was a bundle of nerves and exhausted because said nerves were keeping me up at night. Or on flights. Like this one. Wherein Tom was out cold next to me and I was telling myself that all this worrying bullshit wasn’t doing my fertility prospects any favors. I dug in my messenger bag for my phone, checked the calendar, and realized that my period was due in ten days or so, which made blaming everything I was feeling on PMS seem like the most logical choice. My cycle so far varied between 28 and 32 days, which also was, you know, less than helpful. A heavy sigh escaped me and I felt a thunk on the back of my aisle seat, followed by Simon poking his head around to whisper loudly in my ear.

“Maude! Wedding! Happy! Heavy sighing NOT ALLOWED!”

“Dude, you are NOT the boss of me. It’s my party and I’ll sigh if I want to. Wow, that was way funnier in my head.” I craned my neck to look at him. “Simon. I’m getting married in seven days and I’m pretty sure I’m losing my motherfucking mind.”

“Six days.”

I counted on my fingers. “No, it’s seven. Today’s the 22nd.”

He shoved his own phone in my face, the home screen displaying the current date and time prominently. “Sorry, sunshine. It’s the 23rd. Six days.”

“My god, I just looked at my calendar and I swear it said the 22nd. Six. Okay then. I’m just going to go lock myself in the bathroom now. And I’m not coming out until August. Maybe September. Have someone slip me cold cuts under the door.” I sighed again, then again. “I’m a mess, Simon. Is this normal? Shouldn’t I be like Cinderella or some shit, all happy with mice or whatever? You are my wedding honor person, Simon. You’ve done this before. HELP. ME.”

The smirk on his face made me want to scream. “I love you, Maudiekins. Of course I’ll help you…but let me just take a minute or two to revel in the fact that I’m actually witnessing you admitting that you need my help, m’kay?”

“You know it’s not too late to find a replacement for you, right?”

He chuckled. “Honey, trust me…there isn’t another person walking this green earth that would take this job.” I rolled my eyes, though I knew his point was entirely valid. He reached around to take my hand. “Yes, it’s normal. You remember what I was like, don’t you? And don’t you DARE say I’m like that all the time even though I sort of am because that was way worse and you know it. It’s stressful. There’s all this pressure for it to be perfect because that moment is THE MOMENT, the one that everyone will view as a validation and valuation of how much you love each other and if it’s not perfect you mustn’t love each other enough…” I could feel my eyes widening and my chest beginning to tighten. “But what anyone else thinks DOES. NOT. MATTER. All that matters is the love you share with Sleeping Beauty there next to you. This wedding is for notifying the world that it’s forever, and that you’re so fucking thrilled about it that a massive celebration is required. Love shack, baby. You hired Melanie Hall so you could relax and enjoy the party. We’ve given her all she needs. She’s got this. So…RELAX.”

“Simon, if you don’t leap up out of your seat and start singing some Frankie Goes to Hollywood right now I’m going to be horribly disappointed.”

Pouting, he crossed his arms and leaned back. “Well now I WANT to but people are SLEEPING and it would be RUDE…thanks for NOTHING, so-called FRIEND.”

I held up my phone. “It’s going on the wedding karaoke list. Because I need to see that shit. Even more so since you’ll be wearing a purple suit. Also, thank you. I’ve been obsessing over everything lately and it’s harshed my mellow completely. And probably Melanie’s. I need to text her and apologize for checking in so often and wanting to going over the same details with her a million times…” He leaned forward again, placing one hand on either side of my head, gently guiding me to turn and look in Tom’s direction while whispering in my ear.

“Look at him. You’re marrying that man. Six days from now, he’ll be your husband him. Look, Maude. Look with your non-vampire eyes.” I snorted, readying a witty comeback, but then Tom smiled softly in his sleep and I thought of Outlander and Jamie and Claire and how I’d go back and forth in time over and over and over again until the end of everything just to see this man’s face once more, to hold him once more, to kiss him once more…and as I fought back tears Simon whispered one more sentence.

“It’ll happen for you, I know it will.”

He kissed my cheek and left me to my own devices, which included shoving my phone bag into my bag and staring at Tom while trying not to weep, overwhelmed by emotion and chastising myself for getting caught up in the little details while diminishing my joy in the process. Hopefully I hadn’t diminished any of his. Tom’s eyes flew open, and I knew he had no idea where he was or what was happening. I smiled, and he blinked several times, opening his arms to groggily wave me in for a squeeze. He got more than he bargained for, with me being unable to resist the urge to spring from my own seat and into his lap. His arms wrapped around me as he pulled me to his chest, burying his face in my hair as I rested my head on his shoulder, my legs hanging over the armrest, feet resting where my posterior had just been. We enjoyed each other in silence for a spell, until I broke it by lifting my head so we were eye to eye. I reached out, briefly caressing his jawline with my fingertips.

“I’m very sorry if I’ve been a complete killjoy lately.”

He tilted his head, puzzled. “You? I thought I’d been playing the part of the killjoy.”

“Dude, really?”

“Yes, really.”

I was genuinely puzzled, and concerned. I knew what been plaguing me, but had no idea that something had been bothering him. “Well, you haven’t, but…”

Smiling softly, he began rubbing my thigh. “Well YOU haven’t, but…”

My gaze turned downward, then rose to meet his again. “I let all the little things pile up in my mind where they grew and thrived in my brain soil and became big things and it eclipsed the amazing, wonderful things right in front of me. Little things like work and wedding planning and other people conceiving and not me and I’m glad that my stress wasn’t rubbing off on you or bringing you down but hey, what’s been on your mind?”

He grimaced, voice low so no one else could clearly hear it. “I know that back in LA I said I wasn’t going to dwell on things and I haven’t been dwelling, exactly, but that evening has crossed my mind more than a few times and I’ve been worried that it’s been worrying you, but it appears it hasn’t, and I’m very glad for that. But boy, do I ever feel like a tit for not noticing that you WERE worried about other matters.”

“Same. Same, same, same plus some more same. And honestly, I did think about it for a week or two after, but then I got so busy that I couldn’t tell my ass from a hole in the ground and it went POOF. Right now, I’m just grateful nothing has come of it, and if the universe would please hold off until after the wedding to rain fuckery down upon us, I’d deeply appreciate it. But if not, whatever. Full steam ahead. Right?”

He laughed. “Right indeed. Nothing’s going to stop this train. I liked it, and I’m gonna put a ring on it.”

“Oh my god. Tom. Single Ladies. I…I…can’t even.” I dissolved into giggles, which inevitably led to both of us laugh-crying until the first class attendant came over to ask us if we needed anything, which was a passive-aggressive way of indicating that we weren’t being the passengers Mr. Rogers knew we could be. I slithered back into my own seat, allowing Tom to be the apologist. He beamed at her, one hand over his heart.

“Terribly sorry if we disturbed anyone. I’m afraid we’re a smidge more excitable than usual as the result of our upcoming nuptials.”

She returned the smile. “Oh my! Well then, congratulations in advance. When’s the big day?”

We answered in unison, as idiots in love often do. “The 29th.”

She laughed. “Perfectly in synch. Best of luck to you both!”

As she walked back down the aisle another attendant fell into step with her and I could make out the words ‘knew they were engaged’ and ‘had no idea it was happening so soon’ and ‘wow, a Kauai wedding’. Tom and I both turned to face each other, again speaking in unison.

“Shit.”

We’d kept the date under wraps all this time, yet managed to fuck it up in the space of two minutes when we were SO CLOSE to pulling the whole thing off under the radar. Two flight attendants, not a big deal, but if they each told two people, and so on, it would likely end up on social media somewhere. Which also wasn’t a big deal, but it could absolutely clog up the works with members of the press. I sighed.

“A quote from Hackers comes to mind – ‘Where are your brains, in your ass?’ to which I would respond that I doubt it because I think they are gone, baby, GONE. Luke’s gonna take my PR card away, and I don’t blame him one bit.”

I heard his deep chuckle from behind us, then him clearing his throat before he spoke. “Oh no I won’t. Mainly because I have no desire to perform your job functions, but also because I don’t think it’s a significant problem. I figured it was practically inevitable that someone from the hotel would let it slip, but this is better, in a way, because I’m aware of the leak when it’s still a potential leak.”

It was weird having a conversation with someone I couldn’t see, so I reclined my seat all the way back, much to Simon’s displeasure.

“Mauuuudeee you’re crushing my kneeeeesss.”

“Simon, you’d better be good or you’re going to surpass Tom and me and rocket into first place for the Most Annoying Passenger. Hmm, maybe there’s an award. You love awards!”

Luke laughed again, then kissed Simon on the cheek. “You’d best move your seat upright, Maude. We can discuss what, if anything, you want to after we land. You know how it is…if Simon’s unhappy…”

Simon chimed in, entirely too loudly. “EVERYONE IS UNHAPPY.”

As soon as I finished adjusting the seat, the flight attendant was back, asking Simon if he needed anything, and Tom and I dissolved once more into giggles, quiet giggles, that is, and when we finally sobered up he whispered in my ear.

“Don’t worry, my love. It’ll happen.” I felt his hand on my lower belly, thumb stroking up and down. “Who knows, it might already BE happening and we just don’t know it yet.”

I placed my hand over his as he rested his head on my shoulder. “Thomas, the eternal optimist. Thank you.”

He raised his head in order to place a single kiss behind my ear, then resumed snuggling. We spent the rest of the flight touching each other, even if it was just pinkies linking, and when the sunshine and warmth of Kauai connected with my skin as we disembarked, I felt like myself again. Or, rather, the self I’d re-discovered not quite twelve months ago. Grateful, and joyful. More than ready to celebrate the blessing this island had bestowed upon me…that sense of wholeness and completeness that finding someone to love who loves you back evokes. We held hands as we crossed the tarmac, then picked up our luggage, piled it into the Range Rover we’d rented, and headed for the Marriott, where friends and family would soon be joining us for what I hoped was one party of fucking epic proportions.

****************************************

We spent as much of the weekend as possible either on the beach or locked away in our room…not the honeymoon suite that had been recommended to us, but number 203, which we referred to as ‘ours’ in spite of the fact that countless strangers had stayed in it as well over the past year and would after we were gone. It was where we’d consummated our coupledom, and it was the only acceptable place to consummate our marriage as far as we were both concerned. I had my doubts that we’d make it out of Talk Story after our private ceremony – that bathroom would likely be calling my name – but Tom insisted that he’d hold out until we were back where we belonged. I figured it would be fun testing his resolve if nothing else, so I went with it.

Sunday was our last meeting with Melanie before the actual ‘day of’, and she’d done such an incredible job that I had nothing to add. The ceremony would take place at five PM, followed by an hour of hors d'oeuvres, then a sit-down family-style dinner. Ahi Poke salad would already be on the table, and Hawaiian Saimin Soup would be offered as soon as everyone was seated. The next course, and the only additional course other than cake, was set to include Chicken Hawaiian, Hawaiian Roast Beef, Kalua Pork, blackened Mahi Mahi, and, because I couldn’t help myself, fettuccine alfredo. No one had responded that they were vegan, but a chef would be available if we need anything last-minute. We’d chosen to go with mainly regional recipes since it technically was a ‘destination wedding’, and also because it was apparently unacceptable to serve chips, dip, pizza and bacon as a meal to people who’d travelled thousands of miles to share your special day. Fortunately, those things made for perfect appetizers…the universe created pizza bagels for a reason, and that reason was for me to snack on them and probably get sauce all over my dress. The cake…my god, the cake. The shop Melanie had chosen had been working on it for weeks, planning, creating a model, ensuring it would balance properly…it made my head spin. It had been Tom’s idea, inspired by our bookish centerpieces. There would be two four-tier round cakes, alternating layers of chocolate and vanilla, iced white and decorated to take on the appearance of a ring of books, the spines hand drawn, colored and lettered. One stack would have titles from my collection, the other from Tom’s, with a bookshelf ‘bridge’ from the top of one to the other that merged our favorites. In the center of the bridge there was to be an open book mini-cake decorated with the Tree of Life on one side, our names and the date on the other, and, of course, the bride and groom topper. We’d had those 3-D printed in our likeness, and Melanie had brought them with her for us to see, a choice I’m certain she regretted because she eventually had to ask us kindly but firmly to surrender them before they were damaged by our Wedding Preview Theater playtime.

Guests began arriving Monday morning, and a steady stream continued throughout the day. Tom’s family had been first, followed by Chris and Elsa, then Ben and Sophie, Robert and Susan, and a host of other folks I didn’t technically know but felt like I did because I’d seen them on the big screen, the small screen, or Tom had shown me pictures as we came up with our guest list. There were stories to go with the pictures, of course, for which I was grateful because I could almost match names with faces. Though we hadn’t seen anything leaked online, Luke had opted to send out a press release on Saturday in order to prevent the chaos of outlets scrambling for a scoop, and according to everyone who had turned up so far it was working. The media was camped out at the airport and the hotel, but were keeping their distance, allowing those who didn’t wish to pose pass by without being cajoled and/or yelled at. Tom and I hung around in the lobby between meals in order to be accessible. Most of the few folks I’d invited were also members of the wedding party…Trudy and Veronica, who had come to say hello and gone on to unpack in their rooms already, which left me waiting on Anne. Our final fittings were scheduled for 5:30 in one of the smaller conference rooms, and it was nearly ten after when I heard her shouting from across the lobby when she spotted me.

“MAUDIE! THERE YOU ARE!”

I hadn’t seen her in person since New Orleans, though we’d Skyped a few times…and then she’d talked to Tom almost as much as she’d spoken to me. The Vampire Chronicles project had shifted from a feature film to an episodic streaming venture, which Tom was on board with, but additional writing was required and he wouldn’t be able to begin shooting until late 2017 or early 2018. I left Tom with Chris Evans and jog-walked to meet her, surprised as always at the power behind the hugs of such a slender being when she embraced me. We released each other quickly, both leaning back to inspect the other’s outfit. She shook her head.

“You’re too thin. Are you eating? Don’t let the stress get to you, kiddo.”

My eyes rolled, and I allowed my head to loll back in exasperation. “Yes, I dropped some poundage. Not because I’m not eating, that’s for fucking sure. Personally, I believe the extreme increase in my physical activity over the past year is to blame. And coffee. And yeah, maybe stress. But mostly the activity. Which I don’t plan on modifying anytime soon, thank you very much.”

She laughed. “I wouldn’t if I were you, either.”

“Your endorsement is appreciated. Can we talk about the fact that you’re wearing a shirt with palm trees and coconuts printed all over it and Bermuda shorts and sandals right now? This might be the first time I’ve ever seen your legs.”

“Soon you’ll get a good look at my arms, too. And my back.” The bridesmaid dresses I’d chosen were deemed flattering by all the gals, made of silk chiffon in a gradient of green to purple from top to bottom. They were sleeveless, floor length with a semi-pleated skirt, ribbon at the waist and the neck and a cape that attached at the front throat area and hung over the left shoulder and covered most of the open back. The cape could easily be pinned to cover all of the back of the wearer chose, which I thought was important because not everyone deems going braless socially acceptable. Anne chuckled, looking down at herself, then back up at me. “I’m so pale I might have to write myself into the next book as a lost ancient. What a bonus that I’ll have pictures to work from!”

As I gazed past her shoulder I caught sight of Christopher, pulling a very full luggage dolly behind him. He waved as he drew closer, finally abandoning it to embrace me briefly.

“Maude, it’s been forever. You look beautiful. And, congratulations. Though you getting married has ramped up someone’s matchmaking efforts a hundred times over…” Anne reached out and tugged his earlobe, and he sighed. ”I’m going to just marry the first guy I see to put an end to it all, I guess.”

Tom’s voice sounded out from behind me. “So sorry, but I’m already spoken for.” He moved to stand at my side, his hand extended in greeting. “Hello, Christopher. Lovely to finally meet you.”

Christopher sighed, feigning exasperation. “The good ones are ALWAYS spoken for.” He reached out and shook Tom’s hand vigorously. “Lovely to meet you as well. Mom and I are delighted you’re still interested in stepping into the shoes of the Brat Prince. Knowing who’s portraying him has actually made it easier for us to get the scripts rolling.”

My mouth dropped open. “Wait, what? You’re BOTH working on this? Together? Writing.”

They exchanged a conspiratorial glance, then Anne grinned. “We are. It’s so much fun, especially because his style is so very different than mine, yet there are echoes…”

“Mother, the only echo is your voice throughout the house every time I try to sneak outside for a break. Seriously, Maude. She’s the most demanding boss I’ve ever had and…”

Anne cut him off, right index finger raised. “I’m the ONLY boss you’ve ever had.” As Christopher rolled his eyes and mouthed ‘see what I put up with’ in my direction, Anne stepped forward to hug Tom. “Hello there, handsome.”

He returned the hug, planting a kiss on each of her cheeks as he pulled away. She grinned up at him, and my phone beeped. I pulled it from my pocket and cleared the alarm. “We have to move it, lady, or we’ll be extra late for the fitting.”

She offered me her arm. “Let’s boogie, kiddo.”

Tom kissed me and lingered more than a few seconds too long, clearing his throat as he backed away sheepishly. “I’ll see you at dinner, my love.”

I nodded. “Yep. You sure will.” He offered to help Christopher with the luggage, and they strode off in the opposite direction as Anne and I headed for the conference room. She poked me in the ribs.

“Maude, has anyone ever told you you’re a terrible liar?”

“Oh my god Anne, seriously? What are you, a wizard?”

“No, just incredibly perceptive. Plus, I’ve known you since you were ten.”

“Mmm hmm. God, I HATE lying to him. And I obviously suck at it. But his surprise bachelor party is tonight and I was sworn to secrecy. Of course he just HAD to say he’d see me. Fucker.” Ben had contacted me nearly two months earlier, asking if I was okay with the idea, and I’d said yes because even though Tom and I had agreed that neither of us wanted such a thing, the opportunities for all of them to be in the same place at the same time were incredibly limited, so why not take advantage of such a rare occurrence? I’d given Ben Melanie’s number, and she’d arranged everything. There’d be food, drink, and karaoke in the Makai Lounge…and I pitied the staff who’d thought it would be awesome to work the event because I had a feeling they were about to discover that it would be akin to dealing with a roomful of kindergartners who’d binged on chocolate espresso beans. The walk to the Hokulea Suite was a short one, and Simon was waiting impatiently in the doorway and wearing one of the hotel’s white terrycloth robes.

“Nice of you to grace us with your presence, future Mrs. Hiddleston. For a minute I thought you’d gotten cold feet…oh. Oh my god. Oh.”

With that, I knew he’d noticed my companion. Everyone was aware that Anne was in the bridal party, but no one had actually met her as yet. Simon, despite interacting with famous folk on a regular basis, was completely and thoroughly star struck at the sight of his favorite author in the flesh. I glanced her way, finding her smirking gleefully as Simon proceeded to lose his shit, right hand on his chest, which was heaving with excitement.

“Anne…can I call you Anne? Or do you prefer Ms. Rice? Oh my god. I’m SUCH a fan…a life-long fan…of your work and here you are and lordy I think I may die…” He began fanning his face with the hand that had previously rested upon his chest, and Anne went right in for the kill, stepping forward and wrapping her arms around him, then kissing him on the cheek.

“Dearest Simon, Anne will do just fine. Maudie has told me so much about you, and goodness, I’m just the luckiest woman to have such devoted fans. Bless you for supporting my work.” He stood, blinking, as she continued. “Part of that ‘told me so much about you’ was how entertaining and hilarious you are. And petty. Let’s just say I’m very much looking forward to getting to know you myself.”

His mouth dropped open and a screechy cackle escaped him as he threw his arms around her, one finger pointing at me from behind her back. “You’ve been replaced. Anne is my new bestest friend ever.”

I gave him a double thumbs-up. “Fucking A, man. You are EXHAUSTING.”

Faces began to appear behind him, first Trudy, then Emma, then Sarah…at which point I pushed past the new dynamic duo and entered the suite. It wasn’t huge, 24’ x 18’ or so, but it was a wide open space beyond the private bathroom and kitchen right inside the door, on the left and right respectively. It was ours for the duration of our stay and would serve as the dressing area the day of the ceremony. Two couches had been placed along the shared walls of the bathroom and kitchen, facing the rest of the room. The remainder of my bridal party leapt off of said couches and proceeded to embrace me all at once, and I’m certain the look on my face was one of sheer terror as they squealed with delight. I heard Simon’s voice as he drew closer.

“Ladies, ladies, what did we discuss earlier? The bride must be approached cautiosly, VERY cautiously. She’s anxiety ridden, easily overwhelmed and if her flight or fight kicks in we could all be in really deep shit. Back away now, and do it slowly. Don’t be distracted by the fact that Anne Rice is, like, RIGHT HERE.”

They turned away, releasing me, and I waited a beat for Simon to introduce everyone. He just stood there staring at her, enraptured, so I figured I’d best do it on my own.

“Anne, this is Trudy, Veronica, Emma and Sarah.” I wave-pointed in their direction. “You people, this is Anne. I’m going to use the restroom now. Chat away.”

The room had begun to buzz with the sounds of excited conversation as I closed the door behind me. I quickly did my business, then splashed cold water on my face, pausing to take a breath as I started at my reflection. The lighting didn’t do me any favors, and I groaned while attempting to figure out if I looked pale because of the dark circles, or if the circles looked dark because I was, in fact, pale. Veronica, who had been instrumental in the process of choosing every item of clothing worn by bridesmaids and groomsmen alike, had brought her favorite hair and makeup people along, for which I was now all kinds of glad. I leaned in closer, my nose almost touching the mirror.

“You look like you’ve been out on the town for two days straight, woman. Sleep. Look into it. Christ.”

Simon shouted unnecessarily loudly from outside the door. “MAUDE! STOP TALKING TO YOURSELF AND GET OUT HERE SO YOU CAN PUT ON THE MOST BEAUTIFUL WEDDING DRESS IN THE HISTORY OF ALL WEDDING DRESSES BECAUSE I NEED TO SEE YOU IN IT!”

I opened the door just enough to stick my hand out and flipped him off. He snorted.

“Anne, she’s being rude. Make her stop.”

Sighing, I opened the door the rest of the way and stepped back into the entry area, pretending he didn’t exist as I walked back to the open space. Seven privacy screens had been set up along the edges of the room, and I had no clue which one was mine until Veronica poked her head out from around the one furthest away and waved at me.

“Honey, come on back. My dress is good to go, so you’re up.”

On a rack against the wall behind the screen, there it was. The Dress. After discovering that such a thing as a convertible day-to-night design existed, I’d scoured the internet for weeks in search of one that didn’t look like it belonged in a Disney movie. And then, on someone’s Pinterest board, there it was. The Dress. Next was the task of determining where the image had originated from, and two reverse searches later I’d located the Israeli designer. Made of crepe and satin, it was form fitting and thigh-length with a boat-neck front and deep open V to the waist in the back. The sides were crepe, and there was a satin strip with a subtle lace overlay that ran down the front. There were no sleeves, per se, only triangular pieces of fabric that mimicked epaulets and went over the shoulder and down the sides of the back in a sort of obtuse triangle. In the front, just above the chest area, were two inverted triangle cut-outs beneath the shoulder caps, creating a futuristic geometric silhouette – straight across at the collarbone, angling in, then back out again at the breast. That, though, was the ‘night’ bit of it. The day part consisted of a lightly-pleated crepe maxi-skirt that hung to the floor with a short train in the back and a slit all the way up to the pelvic area in the front. And, it had pockets. POCKETS. I knew it was perfect the moment I saw it, I knew it would make me feel amazing, and, right now, it made me burst into tears. I wiped them off my cheeks quickly, waving Veronica away as she moved to comfort me.

“Shit. Sorry. I’m fine. It’s just…it’s so…beautiful. And you’re beautiful for doing all this for me, and I’m marrying such a beautiful man in such a beautiful place…”

She placed a hand on my shoulder. “And YOU are beautiful, and you’re going to be BEYOND beautiful on Wednesday. Now strip for me, sweetie. Off with it all.” I snorted as I slipped out of my shorts. “Oh, and you’ll be pleased to know that I managed to find someone able to add some support to the front for you so you can be braless minus the sag AND pasties.”

I pulled my Game of Thrones T-shirt over my head and dropped it onto the floor, then undid my bra and slipped out of my shorts. “Well that’s good news. That pastie glue sucks, and hard.”

She nodded as I removed my Birkis, holding the dress out for me to step into, then helped me slip my arms through the holes. “Did it for all of the bridesmaids, too. They’re removable if need be, too. Stay still while I zip you up.”

It was a tiny zipper at the back near my waist, the rest of the dress very form-fitting and essentially holding itself in place. The support lining was much like a bathing suit, and it helped immensely. When prompted, I lifted first one foot, then the other, trying not to breathe as Veronica wiggled the maxi-skirt into place around my waist. She stepped back, one hand moving upward, fingers open and partially covering her mouth.

“You look like a princess, Maude. Royal.”

Gazing down at myself, I snorted. “More like the Royal Princess. The cruise ship. It’s all so…white. And…vast. And WHITE. Can I get one of those awesomely loud horns to blast as I walk down the aisle?”

Frowning at me, she grasped my upper arms gently and turned me around to face the mirror. I stared at my reflection, realizing she was correct. My head snapped to the left, noting her concern as our eyes met.

“Veronica, I DO look like a princess. Absofuckingloutely I do. Princess LEIA. You know, that dress she wears at the end of A New Hope? During the medal ceremony? I mean, this is a different cut and it’s got some lace and whatever but…okay fine, it’s totally different, but she’s who came to mind when I saw myself and have I mentioned how much I loved The Force Awakens and Leia’s a GENERAL now and…yep, this needs to come of immediately because I’m going to cry again and shit…well not actually shit…”

Simon voice rang out from the other side of the screen. “For fuck’s sake, is she losing it again? No worries, me to the rescue…” He stepped into view, stunned into silence at the sight of me. Like everyone else in the bridal party except for Veronica, he’d only seen photos of my gown. A smile spread across his face, slowly, eyes shining with tears about to be shed. His voice was uncharacteristically soft, one hand lifted up to rest next to his face, his fingers splayed.

“Maude Gallagher, you’re so beautiful I can’t even look at you. It’s like staring at the sun.” The smile morphed into an evil grin. “Tom is going to DIE. Or at least pass out. For real. Have the paramedics on standby.’

I bit my lip, sniffling in a very un-princess like manner. “This does not feel like a rescue, Simon. I guess I’ll have to rescue myself, just like LEIA.” The laugh-crying began then, leaving Veronica scrambling to wrap a disposable protective cape the make-up team typically used around me. At some point I noticed that Simon was wearing his suit…his light purple suit, just a few shades off from the official wedding purple. It was linen, the jacket sporting two white pearl buttons, three side pockets, a breast pocket with a white square perfectly folded in place, and pointed lapels. Underneath was an open-collared white dress shirt with dark purple buttons. There would be a purple bow tie the day of, but no socks to accompany his white leather shoes, which were dotted along the seams with ventilation holes. He smiled, and I wiped away my tears again, this time with the back of one hand.

“You look okay too, Simon. I guess.” His eyebrows rose, then he turned on his heel and sauntered toward his own changing area, calling back to me when he was halfway there.

“Not good, Maude. Fabulous. You meant FAB-U-LOUS.”

I called out in return. “I love you, dumbass.”

He snorted and flipped double birds at me behind his back, which for some reason restored my emotional equilibrium. Veronica helped me into my silver gladiator sandals…they were flats, incredibly simple and lightweight, with ties that wound up to nearly reach my knees. We’d all be wearing them, since they paired well with our dresses, and were also wicked comfortable. And, awesome for dancing. I panicked again for a moment, speeding through my mental checklist to determine if I’d remembered to send the song playlist to Sammy, relieved when I could actually recall doing so weeks prior. Veronica pinched and prodded and examined me from all angles, announcing afterward that no additional alterations would be needed. She’d travelled to London once the dresses had arrived from Israel and done the initial fitting, and her skills proved to be impressive as always…right on the money, right from the start. Once I was successfully disrobed and back into my shorts and T-shirt, I padded over to sit on one of the couches and put my Birkis back on. The others were done shortly thereafter, and I’d prepared myself in advance for what I thought might happen next. Simon plopped down next to me.

“Soooo, Miss Maude, since your betrothed is going to be out living it up tonight, we thought we’d ask if you wanted to do…you know…something. Dinner? Dessert? Dancing? All the ‘D’ things? Hmm???”

I smiled, shaking my head. “I very much appreciate the thought, and I’m going to be pissed off at myself at some point for passing up an opportunity for free food, but tonight…I’m just going to go back to my room and kinda…peace out. Put everything on pause. Reflect. Right after I finish writing the vows I should have finished months ago, that is. Or, you know, START writing them. So thank you, kind friends, but I fear I must beg off this time around.”

Simon leaned in to kiss my cheek. “It’s better to wait until the last minute. Your perspective of what you’re about to do is entirely different, fresher. And your feelings…stronger. I can’t wait to hear what your heart conjures up.” He snorted. “But hey, no pressure!”

Hugs from everyone followed, and they headed off in search of a meal while I took the stairs up to room 203. The first item of business after entering was opening the balcony doors. We’d requested lounge chairs, and the promise of staring out at the water before it got dark was going to serve as my motivation for getting the vow thing out of the way. I sat at the desk, laptop open in front of me, blank Word document ready to go…and then it occurred to me that I couldn’t print anything without a hassle, that I’d need to memorize it all anyway, and that I actually needed TWO versions of vows. As I laughed manically at my current predicament, Simon’s words popped into my head – ‘what your heart conjures up’ – and I decided fuck preparing in advance, I was just going to wing it. It might wind up being messy, long, incoherent…but it would be REAL. Which seemed important, to me, in that moment. Some things are meant to be off script. Improvised. Imperfect. Like our lives.

I ordered in a pizza, tipped the delivery guy entirely too much, ate half of it, then settled into one of the loungers. As long as I kept the back upright I could see the ocean clearly, as well as a decent slice of the sand. Activity was minimal as it was still technically dinner time, and the sun would be going down within the hour. Other than an occasional distant shout or muffled conversation from those crossing the property near the ground floor patios below me, the sounds of the waves breaking and the birds singing were all I heard. As I breathed in the salt air, I could feel the corners of my mouth turning upward. As it grew darker, a sense of great peace washed over me. Worries faded, anxiety dissipated, and it was just…me, alone for the first time in a long while, able to view things with a logic and rationality that was often absent when my introverted self spent too much time with the humans sans a sufficient break.

Chuckling, I quoted the Dude to myself. “I can’t be worried about that shit. Life goes on, man.”

After the sun set fully, I used the bathroom, turned off all the lights in the room, then used the conveniently provided hotel matches to light the three cylindrical candles on the patio table. I’d left my phone in the room, but went back in to retrieve it just in case Tom decided to tipsy-text me. Or plain text me. I honestly didn’t know how he’d approach this time with his friends, but I was expecting him to at least have a few beers or a whiskey or two. Someone having to carry him back to the room at the end of the night was certainly within the realm of possibility.

Once the stars came out, I lowered the back of the lounge chair enough so I could gaze upon them without craning my neck, and the next thing I knew I was being carried into a well-lit space and lowered onto the bed by a gorgeous man. I reached upward, patting his cheek sleepily.

“Tommy. You’re not s’posed to carry me over thresholds until after we’re married, ya silly.”

He grinned as he sat down next to me. “Well, after four unsuccessful attempts to rouse you, this was really my only option.”

I sat up, groaning. “Seriously? Wow. That’s crazy. I guess I really took the whole ‘peace out’ thing to heart.” His head tilted in confusion. “Oh. Right. You weren’t at the fitting. They asked me to go out tonight, but I said I was going to come back here and peace out. Mission accomplished, I guess. Did you have fun? Oh my god, WHAT is on your SHIRT?”

He was wearing a white tee, with an old fashioned ‘wanted’ poster printed on the front…his smiling face as the mug shot, with jail cell bars over the top and the word ‘CAPTURED’ emblazoned across it all. Smirking, he turned his back to me, where there was a photo from Luke and Simon’s wedding of both of us making goofy faces for the camera, the text beneath it stating ‘Perfect Match Is Perfect’.

Snorting, I poked his chest. “Well, I was all set to be mildly offended but the back is adorable…”

His lips met mine, tongue seeking entrance. He tasted faintly of whiskey, but mainly of smoky, peppery pineapple. I laughed, causing him to pull away.

“Dare I ask what’s so amusing?”

“Pineapple pizza, huh?”

He smiled, touching a fingertip to my nose. “You’re truly missing out, you know. It’s delicious.”

“Oh, it may be…but it’s an ABOMINATION. Wrong. So very wrong.”

Licking his lips, he leaned forward so his left shoulder touched my right. “Thank you, for tonight. It was such a wonderful surprise, and I’m not sure we’ve ever all been together like this when we weren’t filming. We had a spectacular time, though I’m afraid even the guests on the top floor heard us…”

“You’re welcome. I figured it might be a once in a great while kinda thing, and Ben was so gracious when he asked that I couldn’t say no. I hated lying to you, though.”

His arms wound around me, and I reciprocated. He grinned. “I apologize unreservedly for causing you to have to do so. Perhaps an orgasm or two will somehow rectify the situation?”

My face scrunched up. “Mmm…how about six?”

He clucked his tongue at me. “Now, now. No need to be greedy.”

“It’s not greed. It’s ambition.”

“Well, that has merit. We’d best get at it, then.”

I pulled the hem of his shirt upward. “Agreed. Totally. Let’s get at it.”

Four hours, one very long shower, and barely any sleep later we were startled by the sound of someone pounding on our room door. I sat up, glancing at the clock on the night table…ten minutes after six. I turned back to Tom, who was already standing and pulling on the shorts he’d worn yesterday.

“What the actual fuck? That’s like, ridiculously loud for so early…” Tossing aside the covers, I got up and grabbed my black silk robe out of the armoire and slipped into it quickly. Tom, shirtless, beat me to the door, opening it cautiously. Standing in the hallway was Luke, his jaw set, eyes blazing, phone in hand. He pushed past Tom, then closed the door behind him.

“She did it. This morning. It’s everywhere. I wanted you to hear it from me first.” He held out his phone for Tom and me to see. He had the Daily Mail pulled up, the featured top story showing.

FIFTY SHADES OF SEXCAPADES – Claudia Heidrich, 25, former flame of Tom Hiddleston, 35, reveals just how he managed her nights by posting DOZENS of videos of the couple online, exposing his penchant for heavy drinking, swinging, threesomes, foursomes and moresomes, public sex and BDSM just as he’s set to wed fiancé Maude Gallagher, 38, TOMORROW.

#your light in the mist #chapter 43

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literati42 · 7 years ago

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Batfam Week day 3: Wayne Gala

Title: Tunnel Vision

Rating: PG

Genre: family fluff, angst

Characters: Tim Drake POV, Jason Todd, Cass Cain, Dick Grayson, Damian Wayne

Description: Batfam week prompt 3: Wayne Gala. Tim is feeling the anxiety that comes with being a protector of the city, and his siblings step in to help.

Note 1: I am still taking Batfamily week requests!! Send them my way, please.

Day of the Wayne Gala fundraiser for Gotham Orphanage, 5:30 AM.

I groan, finding colorful things to call my alarm. I don’t say them, of course, that would take far too much effort. Glancing at the clock, I realize I got exactly 29 minutes of sleep between the late night patrol and the even later night laying awake recounting every moment of the previous day and calculating every potential moment everything could have gone wrong. It didn’t, this time, but it could. The unanalyzed life is not worth living, right? I roll out, hating my feet for touching the cold floor and the floor for being so cold. Nothing good happens before noon. Ever.

Day of the Wayne Gala fundraiser for Gotham Orphanage, 6:01 AM.

Cold shower + (scorching coffee x 2) = me, almost awake enough to face the day. It is Saturday, the Gala is at noon, so I have to adjust my earlier statement. Nothing good may happen before noon, but nothing good will happen at noon today either. It is an early one, set outside in the awful bright sun. I pour cereal into the bowl and debate eating it with coffee instead of milk, but Alfred is just around the corner, and I can’t take the lecture in my current state. I eat the cereal dry instead.

Day of the Wayne Gala fundraiser for Gotham Orphanage, 7:05 AM.

I fell asleep with my cereal half eaten and had to cover with by running off. Now I’m in the Batcave. Training, focusing the energy in my body will chase away the thoughts. I love the way fighting feels, the power and control in the way I use my body. My movements are fluid, and for a while, for a short while, everything fades to black. My mind empties of anything but the next best move. At some point, Damian is there in front of me. He jumps in. I pick up my bow staff, and he grabs a wooden practice sword. He does not ask, just begins to fight with me. The sharp pains of getting hit do not detract from the peace that comes with movement.

After a while, we have to stop because complete control over my body is a lie. If I had complete control, I would not need to stop to catch my breathe or drink water. My face is flush with the exercise. The kid is a pretty useful practice partner, in the rare moments, his mouth stays shut.

Day of the Wayne Gala fundraiser for Gotham Orphanage, 9:00 AM.

I begin going over every detail of the last case. It feels easy. It feels incomplete. So, I go back over every detail. I turn over every rock, again, twice. I log every detail in the computer, frowning. This is wrong, and I know it. “Hey Tim,” Dick leans his arm on the back of my chair. “Isn’t that case wrapped? I thought you and Bruce tied a ribbon on that one yesterday.” My eyes are still scanning the words as he speaks and I give him something between a nod and a shrug.

“There’s something missing.”

Dick clicks his tongue behind me, “I know with how things end up going, secret society of owl lovers, random appearances by Hush, and the…the Joker, it’s easy to start looking for signs in the smallest cases. But babybird, sometimes a drug ring is just a drug ring.”

“And that perspective is how all the people you mentioned get the drop on us.” My words come out sharper than I mean, but he is leaning into my airspace, and I can’t focus like that. I hear Dick step back, and I don’t glance up. I really don’t want to see his expression. When he leaves, I do stop, rubbing my stinging eyes. I sit back and thanks to Dick’s interruption, the thoughts that spun around my head all last night return with painful clarity.

I should be doing more. There is always more to do. How can we go to a Gala and pretend like throwing money around will ever be enough to help this city? How can we sleep on Egyptian sheets and sit down to dinner at the long mahogany table that is more expensive than the apartments people in Hell’s Kitchen live in? How can I stop when I know what is going on out there? I remember hearing a story one time about rescuers pulling people out of a river. They just kept pulling people out of the river as fast and as often as they can, but there is a problem up the river, and people fall in faster than they can rescue. People drown because they can’t pull them out as fast as they are falling in.

Suddenly the weight is pressing, and I can’t breathe. I run out of the Batcave before anyone can see me.

Day of the Wayne Gala fundraiser for Gotham Orphanage, 10:34 AM

I am sitting on the floor beside my bed, the black-out shades choking out only the barest slivers of light through the window when I hear a knock at the door. “Father insisted I have to tell you to get ready. However, if you would rather I am certain you won’t be missed.” I hear Damian’s retreating footsteps and press my hands into my eyes. I can’t do it today.

Day of the Wayne Gala fundraiser for Gotham Orphanage, 10:47 AM

The lock jiggles, and I turn in time to see the door come open, with Damian standing there, lock pick in hand and arms crossed. I watch his eyes flit from the curtains to my hair and then to my clothes, the same ones from our sparring earlier. “I will tell Father you have decided to be more of a disappointment than usual.”

“Yeah, do that,” I reply. Why do I never learn to watch my mouth? He stops and turns, slowly. He tilts his head a bit like his dog does when he is confused.

“What’s wrong with you? Beyond the usual I mean.”

“Go away, Damian.”

He unsurprisingly does the exact opposite. He walks further into my room until he is standing in front of me, hands on his hips. “You didn’t insult me.”

“What?”

“You called me Damian, not hellspawn or demon child.” He narrowed his eyes, “And you just told me to go away, without any banter.” His eyes trace up and down me. “Did I injury you severally when I was trouncing you earlier? Because Alfred will never believe I did not intend to if…”

“I’m fine. I just want to rest today, now go away.”

I see Damian look from me to the door and back. Good, I can see him, already half way out the door in his mind. Yet, instead, he crouches down. “This is a Dick issue?”

“A…what?”

“A…psychiatric problem?”

“Psychiatric?”

I can see Damian getting frustrated, “Are you having emotions?”

I laugh then, and it is a hideous sound even to my ears, completely off and breathy. Damian cringes. I curse quietly as the sound threatens to bubble up again and morph into something worse. I swallow the heaviness in my throat. “Is it a poison or toxin of some kind?”

“I am just thinking,” I reply. When I see his skepticism, I glare, “I know what you’re going to say ‘is thinking that painful for you, Drake?”

“I wasn’t going to say that,” Damian said. He stared at me for a split second more and then a determined look crossed his face. He straightened up and walked to the window. He threw open the curtain. I cringe as the light violates my eyes. “I know what this is,” he says with complete assurance, “Todd calls this…wallowing.”

“I am not wallowing…”

“You are, and there is only one thing to me done.” He walks over, and the little brat kicks me squarely in the leg. “Get up, and I stop.” I jump up, rubbing my leg, but he is running from the room before I can retaliate. He turns back at the door. “If you are not ready in the next 10 minutes, the consequences will be dire.”

That’s when I realize that my frustration at Damian lifted some of the weight off my chest.

Day of the Wayne Gala fundraiser for Gotham Orphanage, 11:15 AM

“Come on, Tim, we can’t be late to our own Gala!” Dick’s voice rings up the stairs to me. I didn’t get ready in 10 minutes like the brat said, but I did listen to him and get up, so I am not sure this counts as a victory. I look in the mirror, adjusting my tie even though it’s already perfectly straight. I hate going out like this, mask-less. It feels both raw, like an exposed nerve, and fake, but Damian helped me at least kick the heaviness. I would thank him if he weren't already so self-righteous. I frown once more at the mirror. Without the mask, there is nothing hiding the black smudges the bags under my eyes make. I poke at one of them.

“Luckily for you, you have that Wayne family good looks to cover for those bags.” I turn to see Dick leaning on my door frame. He comes over the fix my tie, which was already perfect. I swear he puts it askew on purpose. “Dami said you were, and I quote, ‘wallowing in a pit of despair and pathetic-ness.'” I rolled my eyes. “If you ever need to talk…”

“I don’t.”

“But if you ever did,” Dick ignores my snapping for a second time that day. “I love you, baby brother.” I shrug his hand off my shoulder, but I can’t ignore that another measure of heaviness peeled back at his words.

At the Wayne Gala fundraiser for Gotham Orphanage, 3:11 PM

The Gala is set outside, and the weather could not be more perfect if Bruce ordered it up. The sun hits the flowers the Wayne deco crew used to turn this park into a purple and blue garden. The tables are laid with fine white clothes and crystal dishes. It all has an incredibly high dollar feel. The staff did a fine job, actually.

Of course, I finished admiring it ages ago, and we are still here. The speeches are over, the food is eaten, and now people are milling around being rich. Elbow rubbing. I lean my elbow on the table and try not to think about how much crime is going on, just outside the pretty shiny place we’ve carved out here. My eyes trace across the room, just in case of threats and I spot Cass. My sister is lovely, in a black dress that left her shoulders bare, and a black gem necklace that once belonged to Martha Wayne. I frown. She stands there with her hands pressed together looking at a group, most of them her age. That’s when I realize that all the young people are smiling and nodding politely to Cass, but giving her space.

The smile stays on her face, but even from here I can see it has left her eyes.

I push back my chair and walk over. Sometimes, when the moment strikes, and I get hit with anxiety and heaviness, I forget to see other problems. I forget to look at what is happening with my siblings. Tunnel vision, the thing that can kill you in the field. I’m good at avoiding it out there, at considering every possibility and evaluating all the players in the field. But here, on the chess board/minefield of a Wayne Gala? Sometimes I forget. I tap her elbow, and she turns to look at me. “I thought there would be dancing.”

I glance over at the orchestra, playing a mellow background tune.

“There is dancing, Cass. We just haven’t started it yet,” I smile, and she gives me a real smile in return. I pull her out and we begin dancing. She has been practicing, and I realize it must have been for this event. Cass never got a “normal” childhood, and a part of her has a deep insatiable lust for life. The orchestra has noticed us, they begin playing louder. I smile at her, my sister and she smiles back. And for a few moments, I let the problems of the rest of the city fade. And I solve one problem, here.

After, finally, after Wayne Gala fundraiser for Gotham Orphanage, 7:14 PM

I pull off my tie and toss it on the bed as I walk into my room.

“So, wallowing Timber?”

I’m in fighting stance at once, whirling to see Jason skulking in the shadows like a lunatic. “What is your problem?”

“I asked, are you still wallowing?” he comes over and looks me up and down.

“Do you three have a newsletter I’m unaware of?”

“No, we have a collie that carries messages. ‘What is it, girl? Timmy’s in trouble? Timmy fell down a well of his own invention?’” I roll my eyes and flop onto the bed so I can pull off my shoes. Jason follows and takes the seat beside me.

“So, talk.”

“Jay, I’m fine. Don’t you have to get back? Who knows what felonies Roy and Kori are committing in your absence.”

“Obviously I would love to be a part of any felonies, but right now,” Jason is serious, I see the look in his eyes. “Babybird.” He sits shoulder to shoulder with me and gives me a nudge. “What got into your head.”

I am tired, and Jason is Jason. He’s the closest to me of any member of the family. There are times when he is the only one who gets it. And he always does get it. I remember the moment Joker had us both, and I believed Jason was turning on me. I remember the sour turn it gave my gut. Then when I figured out a way out, when Jason followed my lead, when he looked at me with complete confidence and said he knew he could pretend to turn on me, because he knew I would find us a way out. That unmitigated confidence in me, I don’t have words for what that means.

So I talk, slowly at first. I tell him how I can’t stop thinking about that story of the river, and the people drowning.

“Yeah, I know the one,” Jason said, “Alfred told it to me once.” He looks at me. “You know that’s not the end of the story right, Babybird?” I look up. “Yeah, the people start drowning because they keep falling in faster than the responders could pull them out, but then one responder stopped trying. You see, he realized that there was a problem up the river. So he left his post, and he walked up, and he realized the bridge across the river was broken. So he patched it. And viola! No more people falling in the river.” He flourished his hands as he spoke the last words, then lowered them and met my eyes once more. “You have to stop getting overwhelmed by the people in the river, Tim, and put that colossal brain of yours onto fixing the bridge.” I smile slightly. It is the tunnel vision again, I realize, just like before. Then Jason says the words that stick with me, well after he leaves. “If anyone can do it, you can.”

#batfamweek #tim drake #jason todd #dick grayson #damian wayne #batman #red robin #nightwing #red hood #robin #batfamily #batfamfics

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