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dollarstoreghostie · 3 years ago

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Can I request a headcannon with asa and jesse with a reader who has hetrochromia ( one eye piercing blue and the other piercing green ) 😊💕

Absolutely!! And my apologies for the late response, I lost my password and got locked out for a long while, but I'm back with a vengeance!! Haha

ANYWHO, A BIT OF CONTEXT

JESSE AND ASA have very very very different love styles and this translates into vastly different relationship dynamics.

FOR INSTANCE, ASA generally doesn't view people as being equal to him. Resulting from his complete disconnect and disassociation with the human race, he views people like novelties, collectables; just another predictable creature to be cataloged and added to his ever-expanding collection of life and art. But you're different- don't get him wrong, you aren't on his level, but you're not so easily replaced. You're special. There's just something about you that has him like a fly in a web. No matter how much he thrashes and tries to free himself, he becomes more entrapped in you. The way you smile and talk and the way you walk and carry yourself and care about these things he can't understand. A part of him, being the drama queen he is, longs for you to put him out of his misery and sink your fangs in— freeing him, just as the spiders do when they consume their prey, but you don't, you refuse to, he's left himself vulnerable in front of you, waiting for you to put him out of his misery.

But you never do, it infuriates him. He disconnects from you, and, in the most uncharacteristic move for him, he leaves you alone and isolates himself from you and anything that reminds him of you and it's in this self-imposed isolation that he finds life so bland without you, it's worse than just missing you, it's longing. He feels like what those old poets spoke of, you won't leave his mind, no matter how he tries, and it's even more angering, but he finds, despite his pride, just how much fondness he has come to feel for you, and love, as tacky a word as that sounds. It's all he can describe it as. Inevitably, he comes to find that despite how much he loathes being out of control that he'd prefer to keep you around. You're just, you're weird, he can't explain it or his fascination with you, but he can't get enough of you.

MEANWHILE, JESSE TAKES AN ENTIRELY STANCE; his love doesn't place you equal to him or even beneath him. You are, in many ways, viewed above him. Now- hear me out here- Jesse would never think you were capable of defending yourself, or hell, even holding your own. But you aren't a pig. You aren't disgusting. You aren't meat in the way he views his victims or nuisances in the form of the brainless yes men that surrounds him in droves, like flies above carrion hoping to have a taste of the kingdom of blood and deceit he's built for himself. You are; you're beautiful. You see things so, not simply, but guilelessly. Unlike the sheep he employs, you are kind, so kind and sweet. You would never try to use him, and he knows this. He relies on this. He can trust you, and he sees you almost like an angel, especially after the accident that disfigured him.

You didn't run from the sight of his face, and that, that did it for him. If he ever had a thought about getting rid of you beforehand. That faded the first time he melted in your hands because, through his half-blind, remaining eye, all he saw in your face was concern and empathy, not disgust, not anger, not an attempt to stay strong and hide those all-consuming, repulsive emotions. He saw the exact reason he fell so deeply for you and the same reason Jesse had spared you of a role in one of his tapes. But this kindness of yours, as much as he adores it, concerns him and infuriates him at times. In his view, HE is the only one who should be on the receiving end of your softness, HE is the only one who deserves it, and these swine, this meat, would dare try to rob him of what only he deserves. The idea is enough to make him enraged. Still, this anger is never directed at you. Instead, those around you because he views you as utterly oblivious to the disgusting habits of the meat around him. To him, you are a victim. You are so wholesome, it's the world that would try to corrupt and turn you into another pig, and he will protect you from it.

NOW, WHY BRING THIS UP, BUN? Well, the thing is, it translates directly into their very different takes on loving your beautiful and unique eyes! Because regardless of their, well, peculiarities in how they love, they will love how you look, and really your personality is what counts the most to them. REGARDLESS

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐑 / 𝐀𝐒𝐀 𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐊𝐔𝐋𝐋 / 𝐉𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀𝐍 𝐒/𝐎 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐀

ASA IS FASCINATED WITH YOUR EYES. Perhaps they were what drew him to you in the first place. Scratch that, they were definitely what drew Asa to you in the first place. He had been leaving the shitty cafe outside of his university, with his first of many drinks for the day. When he'd taken a minute to catch his breath, the watery, bland and yet strangely bitter taste of the poor excuse for coffee knocking him back when he saw you pass by.

YOU DIDN'T STRIKE HIM AT FIRST, in fact, you seemed a little bland, the shade of your hair and its texture were something he had collected in droves, similarly, your skin, though breathtaking in its own right with the occasional blemish here and there, was nothing he hadn't collected before. In fact, he wouldn't have given you a second glance, if you hadn't turned to him and given him that polite smile.

THE WAY YOUR EYES GLIMMERED IN THE SUNLIGHT, THEIR MISMATCHED HUES SEEMING TO GLISTEN AS THE SHADES FRAMED THE POLITE BEND OF YOUR LIPS. He knew he had to have them - had to have you. But it wouldn't be until he watched you closer that he realized that the way he had initially thought wouldn't suffice. No, he couldn't put you into a jar or stuff you in formaldehyde. As he watched you walk home at the end of the day, the way you bobbed your head to the music, you were endearing, he didn't understand it, but you were. He'd have to hold on for you, play the long haul, as it were. And approach you as Asa far before he would collect you. It's easier to catch flies with honey rather than vinegar after all, and he'd prefer to keep you alive for now.

WHEN HE GOT YOU THOUGH, HE COULD NOT STOP STARING, it was, strange, you'd often turn and find him staring at you, his face unreadable, but his eyes speaking nothing but quiet admiration as he rode whatever train of thought seemed to have taken him at that moment.

AND FOR A TIME, YOU THOUGHT THIS MUST BE A COINCIDENCE, he wasn't looking at you, just in your direction and was lost in thought beforehand. It was a reasonable conclusion in your mind, he was the silent, contemplative, education type. It seemed to complete the persona. But no, no matter what you were doing, he'd be quietly watching. In awe as the light bounced from your eyes, the way the colours shifted. How your face shifted into concentration. How your lips would twitch when you thought of something funny.

WHENEVER YOU TRIED TO CONFRONT HIM, JOKINGLY OR NOT, HE WOULD BRUSH OVER HOW HE WAS WATCHING YOU AND THE LOVING WAY HE SEEMED TO FOCUS ON YOUR FACE. Always an excuse it seemed, but the way he would stumble on his words when confronted, smiling nervously and almost begging you to believe him was adorable and told you more than any explanation ever could.

YOU WOULD NOTICE THOUGH THAT HE'D BECOME FAR MORE INTERESTED IN THE MAKEUP YOU'D WEAR AND THE WAY YOU'D ACCESSORIZE. You think he's trying to be helpful but speaking out of his ass, but on the contrary, Asa has done his homework, he knows how to make your eyes pop, and he would like to make sure you knew how exactly to make your most precious asset look its best.

SOMETHING IN THE VIVID, MISMATCHED HUES OF YOUR EYES BRINGS JESSE BACK TO A SIMPLER TIME. Back when the height of the excitement that came from his twisted life were the frequent visits to his father's funeral home. How his father would force teach him how to dissect women. The ringing in his ears when his little hands shook to much to properly hold the blade. The hot tears that ran down his face when he inevitably left into the back alley, humiliated and tears and the soft respect of the old alley cat that lived back there.

SHE NEVER HAD A NAME, BUT SHE DIDN'T NEED ONE, the soft tufts of orange fur, that sweet, rhythmic purr and those striking eyes. She would come to him and curl up in his lap, purring and meowing and batting at the drawstrings on his jumper. And he would forget the humiliation, he would forget his father and the women, and he would play. To this day, he could still recall the warm fuzzy feeling of weightlessness that came as that cat showed him the love and affection his father never would.

BUT EVENTUALLY, THE CAT STOPPED COMING. Logically, Jesse knew the cat had probably passed away - the last few visits, he could recall the sharp bumps of the cat's bones through its skin, how small and frail it looked. A part of him feared the worst and contemplated bringing her home, but he knew if the cat didn't pass on the streets, she would meet a far worse fate in his home. But the sting of the loss of who seemed to be his only respite from his father and the only constant in his life burned.

AS THE YEARS PASSED, HE EVENTUALLY FORGOT ABOUT THE CAT, but the feelings it gave him, the warmth and comfort he felt as that cat circled between his legs, its tail curling as though it had a mind of its own and those striking eyes staring up at him with nothing but love... that never left.

WHEN HE FIRST MET YOU, HE HAD THAT FAMILIAR RUSH, LIKE SEEING A GHOST. It took him a while to realize where it came from - after all, the years eventually blend together into this stew of anger, lashing out, the wins and the loses and the tapes. But when he gets it - he gets it. That strange little cat and you? The coincidence is impeccable, and he gives a hoarse chuckle at the thought.

HE GIVES YOU THE NICKNAME 'ALLEY' AND 'KITTY' you don't understand it, and he will never explain, lest you decide to go poking around in the oldest dredges of his family photos, but it's cute, and you can tell by the creases in the corner of his eyes and the knowing half-grins he gives at your mock offence that he means the term lovingly. As strange as that seems.

AND YOU CAN BET HE'LL BRAG ABOUT YOU TOO. No one in his 'circle' would ever be allowed to see you - let alone contact you or see you for themselves - those sheep don't need that leverage over him. But they will hear all about your eyes, your beautiful eyes, the way they smile, how they bunch up with anger, how they don't hold the same animosity, degeneracy of his past suitors. Of whom there were many.

ITS ALSO NEEDLESS TO SAY, BUT THERE WILL BE GIFTS TOO, Jesse isn't much of a gifter in general, but he makes an exception for you. He loves seeing you dressed up, fancy, like a gift, like you deserve to be. You make him so happy, after all. But there will be jewellery, earrings, maybe a necklace, bracelets, rings... Whatever you want in those colours.

#I hope this is okay!#I havent written in a while #the collector #the collection #asa emory #chromeskull #laid to rest #slashers #slasher fandom

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fleetwoodmak99 · 4 years ago

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Primed for Sin (5/10)

SUMMARY: Arthur tends to keep his promise to give Elena space but after days of pure torture from his job and Randall down his throat about the gun, he just can't stay away anymore.

WARNING: SMUT (18+), Loss of Virginity, Dirty Talk, Oral (F Receiving), Vaginal Penetration, Murder, Talks of Blood, Smoking, Swearing

Hi. So I’m sorry it took me way too long to get this out but I hope to make it up with this part finally having smut in it and it being longer. I hope its not too long lol. I just started school back up and it definitely takes up all my time but hopefully once things settle down I’ll have more time to work on this series. I hope I don’t disappoint and thank you for those who actually follow this story.

Part 4

It has been four day since his last conversation with Elena. Four damn days.

He did as he promised, he stayed away and gave her space. He respected that sometimes she would need a break from the world but it was a lot harder than he had originally anticipated.

Arthur hate to admit it but Elena practically dominated every single one of his thoughts. He wondered what she was doing, who she was with, when was she going to call.

The downside to this was his brain never stopped so he isn't able to stop himself from falling down the rabbit hole multiple time the past few days. His mother had gotten very ill and had been taken to the hospital. As much as he loved his mother, he was glad she was someone else problem now.

Arthur walked into his apartment, his legs felt like they were going to fall off as he started to take off his clown gear from being at work all day. He switched on the TV and turned it to the local news station. Arthurs been trying to fill his time with watching the news to keep up with any advancements in the subway case.

To his dismay, they had.

"Police are now looking for what seems to be a killer clown responsible for the killing of Wall Street brokers Dennis Reynolds, Ronald Ponderosa, and Ben Kelly." The female anchor spoke professionally through the screen.

Arthur grabbed a cigarette, sparking it up and took a drag of it as he finally sat down and inspects the photos presented by the police. It was of a fake clown with green, blue and pink laced all over it. The women continued to speak, "only one witness has come forward, describing the scene as a massacre."

His heart dropped. Did she tell someone?

Arthur's thoughts were put to rest when an old man popped up on the screen. The man was short and had white hair already dominating most of his head.

Arthur watched as the man started to make his testimony.

"Well you see, I was going about my normal business heading to work when I saw a man wearing some sort of clown mask running up out of the subway. I thought I heard a women screaming but when I went to check what was wrong, I only found the three poor souls that sick clown left behind. People like that just can't get away with things like this. Justice has to be served."

Arthur couldn’t listen anymore, he could feel his anger boiling. His thought switching to Elena. It had been for days now but he told himself to hold on just a little bit longer. It was starting to get too much to bare when he sees people like that getting more attention on the TV than people who actually deserve it.

There was so much wrong with this city. That was one of Arthur's reasons he wanted to always be around Elena, even when she didn't know it. It was the only way to effectively protect her.

Arthur was pulled from his thoughts when he heard a loud bang at the door.

________________________________________________________________

Randall could tell that Arthur had been acting strange. He's more distant, only caring to talk when someone addresses him. Its been like this for a few days, ever since the city went into an uproar over the subway killings.

Normally, Randall wouldn't give a shit but with him giving a gun to Arthur and all, he wanted to make sure his name was in the clear. So he made his way down to Arthurs apartment to give him a talk. That was a mistake.

Opening the door, Arthur still had his clown makeup on from work. He looked in bad shape.

“Arthur!” Randall shouted. “How you doin pal?” He gave Arthur a pat on the shoulder before pushing his was into the mans apartment.

Arthur’s apartment was filthy. It had clothes laying aimlessly all over the place with a mountain of dishes piled in the sink. Not that Randall’s apartment was any better.

Randall turned to Arthur, who was closing the door. “Anything new?”

“Umm oh!” Arthur snapped his fingers at Randall as he locked the door behind him. “I stopped taking my medication, I feel a lot better now.” Arthur gave out a small forced laugh but his face was completely dead.

Randall looked at Arthur confused. “Oh okay. Good for you.”

Arthur just nodded his head, taking a drag of his cigarette as Randall continued. “So hey, I don’t know if you heard but the cops have been coming around the shop talking to all the other guys about the subway murders.”

Arthur started to tone the man out, not wanting to listen to him try and explain himself. He reached his hand out and started to put out his cigarette, slowing forming his hands into a fist against the wall.

“I’m not saying you did anything but I just wanna make sure if the cops talk to you, we are all on the same page about who gave you that gun.” Randall gave out a nervous laugh.

That was enough for Arthur to slowly move his hand towards for the knife that laid on the dining room table behind him. Nodding his head in agreement as he did so, so Randall wouldn’t notice.

“You know, cause your my boy in all.” Arthur now had his hand on the knife. Arthur felt everything he had pushed down the past four days starting the boil over as he made a fist around the knife handle.

“Right. Right.” Arthur agreed before squeezing the knife and deciding to give into his anger.

Now.

He slashed the knife into Randall’s neck before he could say another word. Arthur was surprised with how much blood came out but he held the knife in place as Randall struggled against him.

Randal was able to push Arthur off but only for Arthur to grab his head and bash it into the wall. This was when Arthur blacked out.

He wasn’t Arthur anymore. He had been changing into something else the moment he meet Elena. Arthur was becoming more powerful and he wanted to share that with her.

Only thinking of her as he stormed out of his apartment, not caring about the mess he had just made. He found himself at her apartment door, blood soaked, face painted and rage filled.

Arthur didn’t give it any thought and started to bang on her door. This was it. No more holding back, no more space. They were meant to be together and he was done denying himself that.

________________________________________________________________

Elena sat on the couch smoking while the Murray Show played on the tv. She could feel the smoke leaving her lungs as she exhaled. Michael had gone down later than usual so she wasn’t able to have her normal alone time.

She jumped when she heard a bang at the front door. Elena looked at the door confused, she wasn’t expecting anyone. She quickly hid her bong under a blanket and rushed to the door.

Opening it, she was startled to see Arthur standing there. She didn’t even have time to examine him as he immediately pushed himself against her and smashed his lips into hers.

Elena couldn’t help but close her eyes in shock. She didn't fight against him, instead it was almost of an embrace. She couldn’t believe how her body just couldn’t help but give into him.

Pushing the both of them inside the apartment, he placed both of his hands on either side of her face so she wouldn't be able to break the kiss even if she wanted to. Eventually she felt the cool wall being pushed against her back, being pinned there.

When she felt Arthur release her lips, she finally let out a breath. He kept her body close, their faces only inches apart. She could feel his hot breath on her face but didn’t dare open her eyes. He placed his forehead on hers. “I thought you were gonna call.”

She let out a small breath, almost laughing. “I-I’m sorry.” She innocently whispered.

That sweet voice tore into Arthur like knives. His dick already hard for her. He couldn’t wait any more, he needed to be inside her.

“Don’t worry sweet girl. I’m gonna take care of you tonight. Where is Michael?” She then opened her eyes to see Arthur dark ones staring into hers. She could now see the painted faced man covered in small specks of red looking at her hungrily.

“Ummm,” She cleared her throat. Elena had to admit, he looked so sexy like that. She tried pulling herself together to answer his question. “He’s asleep in his room.”

Arthur smiled wickedly at her, pleased with answer. “Good. Good.”

He gave her a few more deep kisses on the lip, soaking in the taste before lifting her up and wrapping her legs around him.

Breaking away for a moment, he asked. “Bedroom?”

She was hesitant. Was this really gonna happen? Right now? Was she ready for all that? She wanted him. Elena couldn’t deny that. After everything, she was still willing to have a relationship with him.

He waited for her response patiently. Not rushing her. Eventually she gave into her desire and pointed Arthur in the right direction. A wicked smile appearing across his face as he leaned in again. She too leaned into the kiss this time, not fighting it either. They made their way towards the bedroom.

Taking his time, he slowly placed her on the bed. Not breaking the kiss but somehow deepening it by entering his tongue in her mouth. He pinned her there for a moment. He seemed to like to play with her. Their tongue swirling around each others mouth, trying to explore every part of each other.

She could feel his hands moving all over her body. It felt amazing to have such big hands on her body. They clawed at her breast, her ass, eventually making its way towards her pussy. Elena grabbed his hand out of instinct.

Arthur immediately stopped his movements, worried that he had crossed the line. She tried desperately to control her breathing and tried to speak. “I-I’m sorry Arthur. I-I-I’ve never done this before.”

Elena could actually die from the embarrassment she felt telling him how inexperienced she was. It was put to shame when he gave her a sweet smile. She could just melt looking at the face painted man.

He leaned his forehead on hers. “Don’t worry. I’m gonna take care of you tonight. Just listen to me. Okay?”

She nodded, giving in almost immediately.

With that, he leaned into her again, completely taking control as he reconnected their lips and started gently taking off her clothes, one by one.

Elena now laid there, completely naked and exposed for him. She felt a sense of vulnerability, she wasn't able to hide anything from Arthur now. He didn't want her too. He wanted to hear and see everything.

She felt cool air hit her body as she anxiously waited for Arthurs next move. He gazed at her, taking a full look at what he picture in his mind a million time before. She exceeded his every expectation.

“You are so beautiful, Elena.” He spoke to her like she was the only people left in the whole world.

Elena gave out a small whimper, reaching her hand out for him. He obeyed as he slapped messy kisses all over her neck. She turned her head so he could have more access. She wanted him to feel every part of her.

Arthur started to kiss his way down her neck, towards her breasts. She ached her back at the sensation of Arthur taking one of her sensitive nipples into his mouth. Her eyes were forced shut when he started to softly started to suck.

Elena moved against him, jerking and twitching to the new experience of having someone’s mouth on her. She clawed at his back, digging in her nail as she felt a warm feeling starting to pool around pussy. It was something she never felt before but it over powered every nerve in her body.

She felt as Arthur started to kiss down her stomach. Elena knew where he was heading.

Her eyes shot open as excitement and nerves when she felt his hot breath at her entrance. She came to see Arthur at the end of the bed. His hands now on the inside of her thigh, spreading her apart so her pussy was now on full display for him.

Putting his face just inches away, he spoke to her. "We gotta get this pussy nice and wet for me to fuck."

Her eyes widened from the vulgarity Arthur was showing. She didn't know if she should be scared or if she should be excited.

She soon found out when Arthurs tongue started to explore her, placing small kitten licks all around. It was so weird. At first Elena didn't even find the point until he latched himself onto her clit.

Immediately feeling a burst of pleasure go through her body, her head feel back as she let Arthur go to work. Feeling as he flicked and sucked at her. She bucked her hip towards him, she could feel the burning sensation of her clit being abused and loved every second of it.

Without even meaning to, Elena start to moan Arthurs names. Begging him to keep going as she brushed a hand through his hair, grabbing it kindly and pushing his head towards her core in order to chase that incredible release.

But of course it never came. Arthur was able to break from her grip and stepped away from her now deprived pussy.

Elena pouted in response, now having no way to release herself.

"I know. I know." Arthur caressed her cheek tenderly. "All in good time darling. We gotta take things slow for your first time."

Arthur gave her a quick peek on the lips before stepping back and discarding his own clothes. Elena just notice she was the only one naked until now. A flow of shame washed over her.

Arthur must have noticed the humiliation she had felt because as his clothes hit the floor he started to ramble, placing small kisses all over her face.

"You are so beautiful. I-I thought of you everyday like this and still you outdo my imagination every time. I-I can't believe your mine."

Her heart leaped hearing this. No man has ever said such things to her and now the perfect man was completely bare before her.

Looking down at his package, she couldn't help but gasp. She'd never seen one before and she certainly didn't think it would be that. Also how did he expect that thing to get inside her? It was huge compared to what she was used to.

Arthur breaking his line of kisses to rest his lips back on her for a moment, "its going to hurt honey but don't you worry ok? You are going to feel real good soon. I promise."

It was going to hurt?

Elena never thought it would hurt but she knew she wanted Arthur inside her so she leaned into him. Sticking her tongue in his mouth to show him she was ready.

Arthur chucked at her, his hand slowly making it way in between her legs in an attempt to see just how ready she was. Feeling a puddle of wetness forming for him, he broke the kiss again.

"Nice and wet. Just for me." He then pumped himself a few times before lining himself up at her entrance. “Are you ready, sweetheart.?”

This was it. She thought. This is actually happening.

Giving a hesitant nod, she sucked in her breath as she felt the tip of his dick dip inside her. Feeling a piercing pain burst through her, she jolted away from him but didn’t get anywhere when she felt Arthurs hands gently holding her there.

“Shh shh shh I know. We just gotta get through this part.”

Arthur didn’t even give her time to respond before thrusting his hips into her at a painfully slow pace. Elena practically screamed at the feeling. It was so much to take.

The feeling of being stretched out by him was so intoxicating she couldn’t even help but close her eyes and focus on the sensation. It definitely hurt but she couldn’t help but love the feeling of him filling her up. It made her feel whole.

Elena couldn’t believe the man was able to fit himself in as deep as he was. She could feel him in her stomach as she tried to force herself to relax. She felt herself clenching against him, trying to adjust when he spoke again. This time, right into her ear

“You are so damn tight. Tighter than I could have ever imagined. I’m going to move sweetheart.”

Elena tried opening her eyes but some unknown force kept them shut. Instead she let out a small whimper. The pain had yet to subside as she twitched against him but unable to say no, she nodded her head.

This was all Arthur needed to push himself out before slamming back into her. It was slow but strong. Elena's whole body bucked to the sensation.

Again. Slowly taking himself out of her before smashing his hard cock back into her now drench pussy.

He repeated this.

As much as the pain wanted to make her cry it was soon replaced with pleasure. The same feeling she had felt before when Arthur was in between her legs, completely devouring her. Elena involuntarily started to buck her hip towards Arthur.

Now creating friction in between them as he started to move faster, pounding into her. The room filling with both their moans.

“Oh Arthur! Please don’t stop.”

Elena hoped Arthur locked the door. Knowing her luck, Michael would coming walking right in with all the noise they were making but she could help herself.

Arthur was ruthless with his thrusting. His hands were holding her against him as he did so. Elena started to chase for her release once again. Grinding against him as he continued to pound her.

"Say it." He whispered in her ear, not letting up.

"What?" Elena whispered back. Knowing fully well what he was talking about just not ready to take that step.

"Say it and ill let you cum." Arthur was stir and dominate. It only added to Elena arousal.

"I-I-I," Elena was so over powered by pleasure that it trumped her fear of opening that box, she couldn't help but fall into his trap just to get her sweet release. "I love you Arthur."

Arthur growled in her ear, biting down on it lightly. He then pumped deep insider, hitting that special spot that sent her soaring. "Good girl. I love you so much."

That was her cue to let go completely. As the warm feeling in her stomach erupted and burst through her entire body. Making the poor girl shake against Arthur, losing control of her body.

Elena clenched hard against Arthur, making the man groan as he too came inside her.

Shit. He didn't wear a condom. Of course he didn't. Elena was his now.

Elena slowly came down from her high as Arthur pulled out of her. Making his rightly place on the left side of her bed, pulling her limp body close to him.

She felt a big pair of muscular arm wrap themselves around her, feeling a sense of protection fall upon her.

"Get some rest now, sweetheart. Your most likely going to be sore tomorrow and am going it need your rest." Elena felt at peace as she nuzzled her head into his neck. Letting herself close her eyes as she slipped into a deep sleep, dreaming of the man she just gave her innocence to.

#arthur fleck #arthur fleck x female reader #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck x y/n #arthur fleck x you #joker #arthur fleck smut #joker 2019

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leviackermanscleaningbuddy · 4 years ago

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BTS DRABBLE-Hoseok

Listen. You’ve never been one to believe in love at first sight-but when Jung Hoseok walks into the club looking like that-yeah, you can see how even a cynic like yourself might believe in the notion. However, this thing you’ve been nurturing for years for Jung Hoseok is far from first sight, and far from love. Right?

Tags: BTS, Bangtan, Bangtan Boys, Bangtan Seonyendan, Bulletproof Boyscouts, Beyond the Scene, BTS Drabble, Jung Hoseok, J-Hope, Hobi, Hoseok x you, Hoseok x reader, Jackson Wang.

Genre: Fluff

Jung Hoseok x Reader ft. Gay BFF Jackson Wang

Soundtrack: Pretty Please by Jackson Wang

Title: Pretty Please

“Jung Hoseok is looking like quite the snacc tonight, don’t you think so (Y/N)?” Jackson appears at your elbow, brightly colored martini held in delicate fingers, as he shoots you a knowing smirk and raises his eyebrow in the direction of said man.

You choke on the drink you have just taken, and coughing slightly, you reach for a napkin, as you shoot your best friend a glare, doing your best not to look at the man currently in question.

“And how would you know what a girl does or doesn’t find appealing, Jackson Wang?” You jibe back lightly, forcing yourself to take another drink, the alcohol burning its way to your stomach, as you force yourself not to glance at Jung Hoseok-grinning and laughing with a group of friends down at the other end of the bar.

You do have to admit-he is looking deliciously irresistible tonight.

“Oh please.” Jackson waves a hand dismissively at you-the mock offence in his voice almost overwhelming-as he takes a sip of his drink. “Have you seen my boyfriend, darling?”

You follow his gaze to where a begrudging and moody Jinyoung sits in a corner both, listening to an animated and overly chatty Youngjae. He meets your gazes, and clearly shoots the two of you a glare that says get me out of here in the next five minutes or I’ll kill you both.

You laugh, and raise your glass to Jackson in a salute. “Touche.”

“Anyway.” Jackson leans up against the bar beside you-chin in his hands-and sneaks another look past you to Hoseok. “When are you gonna tell him about your little secret crush?”

“It’s not a crush!” You protest loudly, your cheeks heating up, as several people at the bar next to you glance in your direction. Lowering your tone, you hiss out between your teeth, “It’s not a crush.”

“Oh. Right.” Jackson rolls his eyes, and purses his lips at you, the sparkle of his lip gloss significantly less than when the night had started. He sticks his tongue out at you, green from his martini. “It’s not a crush, you’re right. You’re madly in love with him.”

“Jackson!” You hiss out once more, dragging him away from the bar by the edge of his leather jacket, glancing left and right, before you pull him into a darkened corner and say hurriedly, “It’s no big deal. Stop acting like this every time we see him.”

“Okay, okay!” He holds his hands up in a motion of surrender, and when you release him, he straightens his jacket with a loud huff. “This is Gucci you know.” He glances over your shoulder, back to the bar, and you’re sure he’s looking at Hoseok once more, before he turns his attention back to you, and his dark eyes are serious, as he says quietly, “Listen, girl. I get it. I’m a pro at playing hard to get, I excel at the art of teasing. But-” He reaches out to wipe a smudge of makeup off your cheek. “Just don’t tease him too long, or he’ll lose interest. And I personally think seven years is enough.”

Jackson winks at you and heads off in the direction of the booth where Jinyoung is now visibly having to restrain himself from banging his head on the edge of the table.

You stand, frozen for a moment-as the bar goers dance around you-and consider his words.

Seven years is enough.

Had it really been that long?

Your mind drifts back, unbidden, in the middle of the club, to when you had first discovered Jung Hoseok.

It was freshman year of college, and you had been late to class-panicked and rushed and holding a half drunken coffee in your hand-when you swept through the door on that bitter Autumn afternoon.

You had quietly gone straight to the back of the already full classroom, the teacher shooting you a warning look over his glasses, as he continued to lecture at the front of the room.

Ducking your head, cheeks reddening, you had slid into the first and nearest seat, completely humiliated and out of breath and feeling like you were about to cry.

You had pulled your notebook and pencils from your backpack, fighting back the tears, and then, a hand had appeared in your tunnel vision.

“You dropped this.”

Glancing up at the hushed words, startled, you had come nose to nose with your desk mate.

And dammit all, if your breath didn’t catch right there and then as you met his caramel irises.

The side of his mouth had pulled up into the beginnings of a grin, and he waved the pen in front of you, as you continued to stare. “Everything okay?”

“Oh, Yes, sorry.” Your cheeks bloomed with heat again, and you snatched the pencil from his fingers-long, slender, soft, you noted in the back of your brain-and ducked your head once more, trying to catch up to what the teacher was saying.

“You know.” The guy next to you spoke again, and you glanced at him in surprise, wondering why he was still talking to you. Most guys hardly acknowledged your existence. He grinned fully at you this time, and it was if sunshine was spilling from the gaps between his teeth, and your eyes were drawn to the way his lips formed a heart shape around the expression. “You’re quite the tease.”

Your mouth dropped open at his bold words, and instinctively, you reached to pull your jacket closed around yourself, as you gasped out, “Excuse me?”

He suddenly looked embarrassed-seeing your reaction, and the smile dropped from his face, as he waved his hands frantically, and this time, a blush covered his cheeks. “Oh. No! No.” He smiled awkwardly, a lopsided expression, and motioned to the array of pens and pencils you had neatly lined up beside your still empty notebook. “Your pencils. They’re arranged in color order.” His fingers hovered and ticked off the pencils. “Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, Indigo, Violet.”

You looked at him curiously, not sure what he was getting at.

“I just meant-” He stumbled over his words, looking to explain his obviously incoherent joke. He chuckled slightly, and reached up to scratch at the back of his neck, as he bit his lip-the cutest gesture you had seen in awhile. “I’m a sucker for organization. That’s all.”

You hid a smile and nodded, turning back to the professor, but all through the lesson, your eyes kept wandering over to the organized pencils, and another smile would warm your lips.

And then you had run into him in other classes-sitting beside him in coincidence-and you slowly learned.

You learned that his name was Jung Hoseok and he was majoring in dance. You learned that outside of class, he never went anywhere without his six best friends, and you learned-though he didn’t teach you this-that you desperately and hopelessly had a crush on Jung Hoseok.

“(Y/N)?”

You startle from your memories, and suddenly, the loud music of the club is back, pounding in your ears, and the shadowy figure of none other than Jung Hoseok is standing in front of you in the lone corner of the bar, hands in his suit jacket pockets, hair swept effortlessly back from his forehead, his features so handsome that you forget how to breathe for a moment.

“Hoseok! I didn’t know you were here too!” A lie.

“Yeah.” He reaches up to scratch the back of his neck with a shy smile, and your heart pounds in your chest as he sucks his bottom lip between white teeth. He motions toward the bar with his head. “You here alone?”

“Oh, no!” You stutter out, waving toward Jackson at the nearby booth. You force an awkward laugh.”What, do you think I’m a loser or something?”

“No, I don’t think you’re a loser.” He replies back, dark eyes warm, and offers you the hint of his full grin, lips pulling up in the way that makes your knees weak.

“Good, because I’m not.” Another lie. I can’t even tell you how I feel about you.

“Anyway.” Hoseok starts out haltingly, his hand once again returning to the back of his neck. “Just thought I’d say hi. Good to see you, (Y/N).” He waves, and makes to turn back to his waiting group of friends, still sequestered at the end of the bar.

“Hoseok. Wait.” The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them-and as he turns to face you once more, tilting his head curiously-you feel the bile rise in your stomach.

You hadn’t thought this through.

Seven years is long enough.

Biting down your fear, you open your mouth, but nothing comes out, the pounding of your heart blocking the words on their way up your throat.

“Everything okay?” Hoseok asks carefully, taking a step closer to you, so close that you can smell his cologne over the other scents of the bustling club.

You swallow hard, and manage to nod. “Yeah, everything’s fine. I just-” Your words stutter once more to a halt, and you drop your gaze from his, fingers twisting into the hem of your sweater, as you work up your nerve. “I just-” You start again, but cannot continue.

Hoseok is staring at you, and you don’t dare meet his gaze head on, and then one of his friends-Jimin?-is calling and waving to him back over at the bar, and Hoseok is offering you an apologetic look, as he says softly, “If there’s nothing else, I should get back-”

“You’re quite the tease, Jung Hoseok!” You blurt out, and immediately your hands are going up to cover your lips, as your wide eyes meet his own-the look of surprise clear on his incredibly handsome features.

“What?” He asks in disbelief, and his caramel irises are locking with yours, and you’re both frozen in place for several, breathless, unspeakable moments.

“I just mean-” You start once more, for the third time, and manage to force your words out through numb lips, your voice drowned out under the bass of the pumping music. “We’ve known each other a long time. Why have you never asked me out?”

“What-you-” Hoseok stumbles over his words this time, and he steps toward you once more, ignoring his friends now, as he looks at you with wide eyes, lips held open in a soundless gasp. “You wanted me to ask you out?”

“Yes!” You exclaim, a disbelieving laugh leaving your lips. It feels good to finally get everything off your chest. “Ever since that day in economics. And then, everywhere I go-” You wave your hands at the club, the released hidden words now pouring from your lips like a waterfall. “You show up, looking like that-” You push your finger into his chest, noting briefly how soft the material of his dress shirt is. “And expect my feelings not to resurface again? You’re the ultimate tease, Jung Hoseok.”

You feel breathless, light, jubilant.

Hoseok’s mouth has dropped open, and you wonder if you’ve stunned him into silence, but then he replies, astonishment tinging his words, “You wanted me to ask you out? You like me?”

“Yes!” You repeat, more forcefully this time, and then you swallow, because it is in that moment, that you realize how close the two of you had drifted during your conversation, noses practically brushing. You drop your gaze to the line of buttons down his chest to avoid his gaze. “I’ve always liked you, Hoseok.”

“(Y/N).” His long fingers go beneath your chin and tilt your head to look up at him, and the seriousness on his features makes your heart drop into your stomach.

Here it comes. The rejection.

Suddenly, his lips part to reveal his teeth, and the large grin makes you feel as if the club has been lit up from the inside by the sun itself.

“I was trying to flirt with you that day in economics. You know that right?” He quirks a brow at you, and you have to stop yourself from reaching up to push a dark lock of fallen hair back from his forehead.

“No!” You gasp, remembering your awkward first encounter. “I thought you were just making an incredibly awkward and unsavory joke!”

Hoseok laughs, and the sound makes your heart pound in your chest, and you’re sure he can feel your racing heart beneath his fingers. “No, seriously. I was flirting with you. And every time I saw you after that, I was trying to get your attention.” He cocks his head, still smiling, and meets your gaze. “I was desperate, but I thought you didn’t see me like that, so I decided to back off and give you space.”

“Holy shit.” You giggle, suddenly very aware that you’re still incredibly close, and his fingers are still gripping your chin. You feel dizzy. “We’re idiots.”

“Indeed.” He nods, and the grin slowly drops from his lips, as his eyes dart down to your own mouth, tongue slipping out to wet the pink skin of his own, and you can tell, he’s going to kiss you.

But just as he leans in, before your lips can touch, before you can satisfy the ache for him, his lips quirk upward once more into the hint of a smile, and he murmurs softly, “No more teasing then?”

“No more teasing.” You confirm, before you cover the smile that has traced his lips into a heart with your mouth.

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subtlereferencetomyinterests · 4 years ago

Text

A Misplaced Imbalance of Fear

Ao3, MasterPost

Relationships: Romantic Dukexiety, implied/minor Moceit (platonic or romantic)

From the power of my Art and my Shitposts comes This Fanfiction!!!

Warnings: Panic Attacks, Lots of Cursing, descriptions of gore (horror movies, it gets decently explicit so beware that), mild body horror (Remus is here and he Does Things Like That), Heavy Roman angst for a hot minute in the middle, making out (continuing my theme of remus-centric fics getting more ;3). They do some makeup and drink tea, baby. Mentions of picking one’s skin as an Anxious habit, and also ticking. Also stimming!!! nd sides 4 life bb. Also, a very brief alcohol mention (it’s soup).

Word Count: 6,553

God Fucking Fuck, Virgil was going to have a self-care day even if it killed him dead. Everybody else could do whatever overdramatic fuckery they wanted when they were topside, but he was all set down there in the Mindpalace, thank you very much.

Luckily, mercifully, thankfully, the rest of the sides all seemed keen to let Virgil have his space anyway. There wasn’t a thing stopping him from relaxing.

Well, except for himself, of course.

A thrum of condensed stress and fear tugged at Virgil’s abdomen, bubbling its way over his edges. It was equally his own and the others’, probably due to whatever conversation they were caught up in in the external world. He would not relent to the worry, nor was he summoned to help with the situation, but his body refused to stop shaking. Perched on the top of the couch, frantically clicking the buttons on a fidget cube, Virgil tried to watch the gore playing on the TV in a tired effort to calm his nerves.

Horror movies… helped. They were something for his brain to chew on for a while- their over-the-top and ridiculous plots, the obnoxious characters that almost always deserve what’s coming to them, the attention-attaining action- it was all a recipe for Distraction. But they weren’t working by that point, no matter how badly Virgil wanted them to.

And then- possibly because the universe loved to spite Virgil and Virgil specifically- a walking, talking headache flung himself into the common room about as elegantly as a wolfhound with rabies.

“Heyyyy,” Remus crowed as he sprawled himself out on the couch. Anxiety curled his legs closer under his body, unresponsive- he knew full well that any reaction would just be an invitation for trouble from the obnoxious trait. He’d remember what Logan taught them: don’t engage, just brush it all off.

Unfortunately, Remus seemed to be in a stubborn mood.

“Whatcha watching?”

“Movie,” Virgil grumbled.

“What movie?”

He eyed the side laying out on the couch below him, narrowing his gaze as threateningly as he could manage. He spat the words through gritted teeth and made it clear he was not having this today.

“It’s called Terrifier.”

Remus perked up at that, and oh God, if he was interested then he’d never go the fuck away.

“What’s it about?”

There wasn’t much Virgil could do but answer in as clipped a tone as he could; things hadn’t gotten too bad, too uncomfortable, yet. Maybe he could redirect Remus’ attention, if he was just boring and unresponsive enough?

“Just a cliche creepy clown flick. Not much to it.”

“Is it gory?”

Virgil made a vaguely affirmative sound in his throat, gesturing to the screen. In truth, the movie’s impeccable special effects with gore was its main appeal, as the acting and plot was kinda atrocious. Violence was the exact reason he’d chosen to watch this. But he knew saying that wouldn’t help his chances of shaking off Intrusive Thoughts.

Remus looked ready to spout off something explicit, but he went dead quiet as his eyes fell on the scene on the television. Virgil was grateful for small mercies.

It was exactly the kind of thing that the creative trait would watch, after all; a woman getting sawed in half, lengthwise, starting from the- er, the wrong end. Under circumstances of a more typical anxious flare-up, the scene really could have been one of those ‘helpful distractions’.

These were not normal circumstances.Yeah, this was one of those ‘too passive’ cases, but Virgil didn’t exactly have the energy for anything ‘active’. So, he stubbornly glared at the TV and pretended that his solution was working, because he had no idea what else to do. Perfect plan.

Preoccupied as he was with his internal issues, he very nearly managed to forget about Remus. Until-

“Holy fuck, this is gorgeous, you watch stuff like this?!” The Duke’s eyes were bright, but not with his usual hysteria. They were wide with genuine excitement, shiny and happy. It was- uncanny, that’s probably the word Virgil was looking for. He curled closer in on himself.

“Shouldn’t be that surprising, dude. ‘Scary’ is kind of my thing.”

“I can’t believe I haven’t seen this one,” the creative side was once again completely enamored by the television screen, “Don’t blood and guts and cool things like that freak you out? They always seem to do the trick when I try to mess with you!”

“It’s different. The violence in movies, it- it calms me down, I guess. Cause it’s like, I don’t know, detached from reality?”

There was a pause that had Virgil hoping, naively, that Remus had grown bored at his spiel. But he wasn’t moving, he was just staring, gaze switching contemplatively from the screen to Virgil a few times over.

“It doesn’t look like that. If you were any more tense, all your tendons would be snapping like badly-tuned violin strings!”

“Yeah, no shit,” Virgil pressed his back against the wall and shut his eyes tight. He could still hear- no, feel- Patton and Roman and Thomas arguing, snapping at each other back and forth as the situation escalated.

“Is this about whatever the others are doing? Why don’t you just stop listening to their shitty arguments?”

A harsh laugh escaped Virgil at that, dragging him back down to earth so he could blink his eyes open, glaring at the facet lying beneath him.

“I can’t just stop, that’s not how I work. I need to keep an ear on them. Who knows what could happen if I didn’t?”

“Well, why don’t you just go talk to them?”

If he wasn’t already frustrated beyond belief, that would’ve fuckin’ done it for him.

“I don’t think I’d be much help. Not right now.”

“Why not?” Remus looked halfway between genuinely curious and mischievous, propping himself up on his elbows to get a better view of Anxiety.

“Seriously? Things aren’t exactly, like- normal between all of us.”

“What is normal?”

Virgil opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came through. As much as it sounded like an offhanded, edgy 13-year-old atheist kind of remark, it was a decent point. Virgil had thought that there was something of a status quo forming between himself and the ‘light sides’, but how long had that even lasted for? Especially compared to the rest of his life? Everything was changing all the time. Was there anything to rely on, or was it just Virgil’s own wishful thinking for what their lives could be? After all, even in ‘peaceful times’, there had been plenty of in-fighting and disagreements and horrible uncomfortable conversations and harsh words and-

“Oh, shut that brain up,” Remus’ sharp voice pulled Virgil from his thoughts, “I know what you meant ‘normal’. You meant the six months when you got to forget about us Scary Monsters, and, DUH! It was probably way simpler for all you diet-soda-no-sugar sluts back then, but that doesn’t mean it was better.”

“Yeah, you would think that things are better now, wouldn’t you?”

Remus fixed Virgil with an unsettling sort of grimace, making the other squirm. It wasn’t the first time he’d done so by any means.

“I dunno, but what I do know is that things are getting better. They’ll be the best they could be, soon.”

Despite himself, Virgil laughed. It was a faltering, anxious sound, revealing the true fear behind the taunting gesture.

“Really? With everybody at each other’s throats all the time?”

“While that does sound fun,” Remus sat up fully, twisting around to look directly up at Virgil, “I mean after that. After we’re all accepted. It’s inevitable- Inevitable, Anxious Lil’ Barista,” Remus accompanied the referential nickname with a wink.

Virgil stared at him like he was crazy (well- like- crazier than usual, he guessed?). Remus just threw his head back and laughed before spinning his neck one-hundred and eighty degrees to face the TV while he explained.

“Point is, it’s painfully obvious that everything will sort itself out. It has to, or else the only other option is that Thomas is gonna drive himself insane by trying to suppress parts of himself and end up clawing his own brain out. One of those two things!”

While colorfully phrased, the certainty with which Remus delivered his point had Virgil taken aback. There was no way that Remus could possibly know that, but- in a backwards way it was comforting, how sure he sounded. He didn’t lie, not ever.

Virgil had never thought that Remus would settle for anything less than going out of his way to make others’ lives a hell. But maybe that antagonism wasn’t what exactly motivated the trait’s actions. Maybe it was just an unintentional side effect, akin to what Logan had said when Remus first revealed himself.

The moment of reprieve was over as soon as it began.

“Fuck! He just cut off her tits and wore ‘em, huh?”

Virgil looked up and, to be fair, that was exactly what had happened on screen. Like he said, this movie wasn’t exactly poetic cinema, but it certainly was something.

He scooted along the top of the couch, moving just a few feet before dropping down to sit properly beside Remus.

“3/10 drag look at best, really,” Virgil muttered, mostly to himself. He jumped when Remus shrieked with laughter at it, looking absolutely delighted.

“I didn’t know you made jokes like that, VeeVee!”

Virgil shrugged noncommittally, focusing on the screen and not the facet beside him. Remus’ giggling was loud and distracting, but it wasn’t… unpleasant, unlike his typical villain-cackle was.

Once Remus had settled down (as much as somebody like him could, anyway), he, too, focused on watching. The quiet was uncomfortable, but it didn’t stretch on for long. There was always something in the movie that The Duke felt the need to comment upon extensively, elaborating and giving details on the gore. Virgil found himself listening to the rants silently, almost enjoying the disruption. It certainly gave his overactive mind something to play around with.

“-skin doesn’t slice as easy as that, trust me-”

Aaaand there it was. Virgil winced, trying very hard not to show that the words had struck a nerve. He liked horror, gore, all that, sure, but there were just some specific things- squicks, you could call them. Remus would obviously use that to his advantage, so the only option was to try very hard to zone out and not look like he was disturbed.

“But even then- Hey, why are you making that face?”

Mission failed.

“Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

Remus shifted closer- invasively closer, his gaze studying.

“You were calming down earlier, what's with the scrunch-nose?”

Virgil stared at his hands, chipping away his black nail polish. Remus was nearly as good at reading lies as Janus, and twice as hard to get rid of.

“It's just- skin, slicing, that stuff just-” he ticked, head spasming sideways briefly at even the thought of that kind of pain.

“Oh,” Remus said plainly, not even a hint of malice or mischief in his tone as he leaned back into his own spot, “Why didn't you just say so? Well, that last exploding head kill is way more interesting anyway, did you see that?”

That was… it? No taunting, no tormenting, he just changed the topic, like that?

Remus, continuing to be weirdly perceptive, scoffed as though he was reading Virgil’s mind.

“What? Just because I like screwing with you prudes sometimes doesn't mean I want to give you a panic attack. Where's the fun in that?”

Anxiety nodded mutely, bewildered. Remus seemed appeased by that and quickly resumed his running commentary.

And if Virgil eventually decided to take part in the discussion, well, it wasn’t a big deal anyway. Just some polite conversation about bodily mutilation.

The television darkened as the screen was washed by credits, filling the space where the disfigured face of the main character had been mere moments prior, the result of a pretty predictable twist ending. Virgil stood, arching his back up in a stretch. His arms raised higher, one joint or another crackling at the motion. Fuck, he was sore. How long had he been sitting still?

Remus hadn’t moved from his spot on the couch. He tapped his claws along the remote, exiting to the homescreen and looking expectantly at Virgil.

“You don't wanna watch anything else?” He asked abruptly, drawing a confused glance from his companion, “This is fun- and they're still arguing up there, so it kinda makes sense to stay, it’s really the best solution if you-”

Virgil huffed a laugh at the rambling. It sounded like some shit he’d say, for crying out loud.

“Dude, chill, I was just gonna make some tea before putting on another movie,” the clear relief that ran across Remus' face- quickly replaced by a wide grin- wasn't anything shy of… sweet. Virgil was sure this day couldn't get any fucking weirder, if he was finding anything endearing about the walking talking dirty joke before him. “Uh, you want anything? Since you're gonna stick around, and all.”

Remus jumped up, following Virgil into the MindPalace’s small kitchen happily. In one smooth motion, he swung up onto the counter and slid down it, seating himself almost on top of the stove.

“No hot leaf soup for me, thanks, but I will take one of those mugs!”

Virgil raised a brow, staring the creative trait down before shrugging. He passed him one of the mugs, a generic and patternless one- so that the other sides probably wouldn't notice its absence. He busied himself by setting up the kettle, trying not to wince at the loud wet crunch that resulted when Remus took a bite of his snack.

“Hey,” Remus said around a mouthful of ceramic chunks, “I know just the movie we should watch next.”

Virgil shifted around the various tea boxes littering the cabinets, searching for something with a kick. He hazarded a glance to Remus, immediately regretting the decision when he saw the blood dribbling down his chin from the cuts marring his lips. Anxiety cringed, turning his head back and grabbing for the first brightly-colored box he saw. It took him a moment to respond.

“Okay… what is it?”

“It's awful- I mean, really, the acting is unbearable and it’s fucking insane- but it's funny. You like making fun of stuff, right? It's like that, but there's still a ton of agonizing death, which is always a fun bonus.”

“What's it about?” Virgil was hesitantly intrigued, his gaze flicking up from the steadily heating kettle. He wasn't exactly keen on staring down the gory scene of Remus’ mouth, so he settled his focus on the trait’s eyeball brooch.

“Uhn-uhn! No spoilers, this is one you have to see for yourself. It's funnier that way.”

Virgil made a noncommittal sound, tapping his nails against the counters.

“Nothing too bad happens- not that you can't handle, anyway. No slicing and not many jumpscares.”

He resisted the urge to snap 'how do you know what I can’t handle?' because Remus actively trying to reassure him was. Something. Something that he appreciated, maybe, a little.

“Okay, fine. I didn't have anything else in mind. A ‘So-Bad-It’s-Good’ thing sounds alright.”

The obnoxious gnawing of Remus destroying what was left of his cup suddenly ceased, replaced by a stunned silence. Virgil finally met his eyes (finding that the lacerations around Remus’ mouth were already healing themselves, as if they'd never existed).

“You’re taking my suggestion?”

Virgil cleared his throat, finding himself unable to break the intense eye-contact now that it had been established.

“It's not a big deal or anything, man. Just a movie.”

Remus nodded enthusiastically, a grin splitting his face ear-to-ear. Very literally. The expression was so unnatural and cartoonish on a human(ish) face, that Virgil couldn't help but be startled into laughter. Remus looked even more delighted at that reaction, leaning forward over the stove. At that point, Virgil very much couldn't suppress the noises, snorts bubbling up from his throat against his will.

“You look-” another bout of chuckling, “-you look ridiculous, Remus.”

“Aw, thank you! I was going for manic, but I'll settle for that, too.”

Virgil rolled his eyes, hunching in on himself to get his breathing back to normal.

With no warning, Remus lifted himself up onto his knees and craned his body around the vigilant trait, snatching the kettle from the stove and flipping the dial to ‘off’. Instinctively, Anxiety recoiled from the proximity. The tension fell away when he saw that the other was simply pouring the hot water into Virgil’s mug for him.

“Dude, it wasn't whistling yet?”

“I know; it was hissing like it was about to start. You're boring and don't like loud noises, especially when you’re all on edge like this, so,” he set the kettle back down, passing the warm mug to Virgil.

Virgil stared at him, then at the drink in his hand, then back up at the Duke. He was, for what felt like the millionth time that day, unsure of how to react.

He… really hadn't thought that Remus would pick up on stuff like that. He should probably start getting used to that, maybe.

“I'm-” Virgil dragged his finger up and down the handle of his mug, “I'm not that on edge anymore, actually.”

The look that Remus sent him was indecipherable.

“C’mon, I’ll queue up that flick I told you about.”

“Yeah,” Virgil let out a deep breath, one he hadn't even known he'd been holding, “Yeah, okay.”

The floor was bubbling, popping, blistering with red fury. It was lava, sending bright flaming sparks in all directions. Thankfully for Remus and Virgil, sitting close together on the couch and viciously mocking cabin fever, the vicious rage was exclusive to one small circle near the staircase.

Virgil, who had been happily tearing apart the leading guy’s acting, cut himself off abruptly.

“Shit- wait- shit.”

Remus shook himself out of his raucous laughter, looking up in confusion. His eyes finally settled on the crimson patch of carpet, a look of realization crossing them. His voice turned much quieter than what fit him.

“Oh, fuck.”

It was like a volcanic eruption localized entirely within the living room, fire blazing in a tall column. From the emotional display, Roman rose up, face nearly as red as his method of transportation.

There was that brief moment, right when a stressful situation appeared, of antithetical serenity. Virgil felt his muscles slacken in shock, his long-empty mug falling from his hands and landing on the carpet with a dull thud. A rush of calmness hollowed out his chest, lingering for just a few seconds before being replaced by panic. Tension returned to his limbs mere moments after that, like it was pulling him taut.

Roman wasn't even looking at them- in fact, he hadn't seemed to notice his brother or best friend at all. The fire fell back down, leaving a charred patch of carpet that would likely take a long time to repair itself. The passionate trait growled, a sound that bordered on a scream as he clawed his hands down his face. He stamped his boot sharply against the ground, igniting another small fire with the impact.

“Fuck!” He cried, ever oblivious to his audience. With a hasty wave, the flames flickered and disappeared. Roman glared down at the blackened spot where it had been, winding his arms tightly around himself. He took a few shaky breaths, but if anything he only looked worse off for it.

“Fuck,” this time spoken quieter, but with no less vitriol. An immaculately-manicured hand raised itself to cover his mouth, tightening around his face desperately as tears slipped from his eyes down his fingers. He turned on his heel and took the stairs two at a time.

In his wake, as the television had been paused, the only thing that Virgil could hear was buzzing in his skull.

What had happened? What was happening, currently?! Things had gone so wrong and it was all because of Virgil’s negligence- what bad things could have been prevented if he had just been there? Or- or even just listening in! When had he even stopped listening? He was supposed to protect them but he just gave up, just because he ‘couldn't handle it’, and now something was Wrong with Roman and he couldn't even focus on listening to them all now, not like this. He couldn’t hear, couldn’t hear or see anything at all.

A rough, calloused hand wrapped around his wrist. Virgil's shallow breath staggered even more at the feeling, the warbly noise of speech failing to meet his ears. His eyes were closed tight, he realized, stinging with emotion behind his eyelids.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Four seconds, four strikingly gentle presses against the vein of Virgil’s wrist. If it weren't for the slight edge of a claw, he could've confused the motion for one of Patton’s.

The four taps were followed by a brief pause, then a steady round of seven taps. Another pause, and then eight. As Virgil focused, as much as he could anyway, on the presses, the screaming of his mind very gradually abated. First, he pried his eyes open, staring down at the hand around his arm. Watching the tapping, feeling it, was grounding enough for his hearing to return in time. Virgil could hear Remus beside him, breathing deeply as a guide, and copying the exercise became that much easier. In for four, hold for seven, out for eight. Repeat. And repeat. And repeat.

Remus didn't stop when Virgil did it properly one time over, when he was still shaking and teary. He didn't speak up even when the well behind Anxiety's eyes ran dry, after what had to be a dozen rounds of even breaths. It was only when Virgil finally, hesitantly slipped his wrist out of the other's grasp on his own terms that Remus made any sounds.

“Do you remember when you taught me to do makeup? Late teens, early twenties, around then?”

Talk about a topic shift. Virgil glanced up in confusion.

“I guess so? Wasn't that, like, the only time that we hung out and actually got along?” They’d never exactly been close, Virgil had made sure of that. It was, in retrospect, a regrettable decision on his part.

“Yeah. I was so bad at it, remember?”

“Hell yes, I remember,” Virgil felt a tiny smirk tug his lips at the memory, “You literally never sat still. You were and are the most impatient person I've ever met.”

“I’ve gotten a lot better, Vee.”

Virgil glanced at the bruise-like eyeshadow circling the Duke's eyes, but refrained from saying anything. Knowing him (kind of knowing him? Starting to know him better now? Whatever.) it was most definitely intentionally off-putting, and probably not a good way to judge his actual ability.

“But I’ve seen how you do it, when you really, really try; I think you're still better than me with it, ju-u-ust barely.”

“Oh, uh, thank you,” Virgil wasn't entirely sure where this was going, but he couldn't find the soft excitement in Remus’ eyes anything other than enticing. The creative side laughed, flapping his hand.

“It would be fun if you did it for me again! Just like old times, ey?”

Virgil stared at him, considering him carefully.

“You want me to do your makeup?”

“Yes!” Remus leaned forward with his confirmation, but for once that didn't involve violating Virgil’s post-panic attack bubble, “It'll give you something to do with your hands other than peeling back all your skin, at the very least.”

Oh, right. Virgil not-so-subtly lifted his nails from his palms, wincing at the irritated red spots coloring his hands.

Truth be told, the idea wasn't… unappealing. It was an activity well between mindless and active, repetitive and artistic. Plus, he didn't exactly love being alone after attacks, and if anything Remus would be lively company. Company that he sort of, maybe, possibly was looking forward to spending the rest of the day with anyway, unfortunate events notwithstanding.

“Yeah, alright, if you're sure you want-”

“Great! Wait right there, bee-arh-bee,” before the words were even fully out of his mouth, Remus went limp and fell sideways off of the couch, falling right through the floor.

In his absence, there was a void where his noise had been. Virgil stared at the paused movie scene, picking apart the little details of the frame just to have something to do. His mind drifted off to the state that Roman had been in when he entered. The sight of his friend so furious burned itself on the backs of Virgil’s eyelids. He knew that the anxiety wasn't all his own, either; he could feel it like waves from the other side of the MindPalace, the origin point clearly belonging to Roman.

He should check on him, shouldn't he? Or would that make it worse? Virgil certainly didn't feel like he was in any state to help. But then there was Patton to consider- something must have happened up there. Should he look for him, too?

There was a whoosh.

“I leave you alone for five seconds and you get right back to thinking!” Remus strode across the room, flopping right back onto the couch. Held in his arms was an enormous multi-pocketed bag, items clattering around within at every jostle their owner made.

“Overthinking is literally my whole job, man, this shouldn't surprise you,” Virgil shrugged, trying not to sound as relieved as he felt.

Remus simply rolled his eyes and dropped the makeup case onto Virgil's lap, sitting criss-cross parallel to him, their knees brushing slightly.

Virgil hesitated for a moment, scanning Remus' face, but all the other did was smile and blink (one eye at a time).

Virgil zipped open the bag, rifling through and finding an overwhelming array of gaudy colors and odd products.

“Was there, like, a 'look' that you want to go for?”

Remus shrugged.

“Just go for it! I’m a blank canvas. The worse, the better.”

Virgil chuckled, picking out a few items to fit a theme he was coming up with and getting right to work.

Though it had been years since they’d last spent time together, it wasn’t awkward. In fact, it felt more comfortable than it had back then.

Remus managed to sit almost perfectly still, chattering the entire time that Virgil worked. Yet again his voice served as something like white-noise, wherein Anxiety only had to contribute whenever he chose. Remus only quieted when Virgil had to hold his face, tipping his head back to properly apply inky-black lipstick. And then, he remained silent for a moment, as they surveyed each other.

Virgil had cleared his throat, warmth prickling at his ears, and the ceaseless rambling resumed after that.

In what felt like hours and no time at all, Virgil was finally satisfied with his work.

“Alright, you're all done,” he capped the bottle of mascara in his hand, rifling through Remus' bag for a mirror, “Wanna see?”

Just as he felt the unmistakable cool surface of glass on his fingertips, Remus grabbed his wrist in both hands.

“What-?”

“Not so fast! Now it's my turn,” he announced, his zealous eyes even more prominent on his face thanks to the thick wings of eyeliner around them.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Virgil looked from the assortment of garish colors that he'd mostly stayed away from in the makeup case, and then back up at the Duke.

“Usually: yes. But I am dead serious right now, Vee.”

Remus looked pleading, legitimately pouting.

Virgil huffed. The side had gone out of his way to help him, when he really didn't have to, so…

“You're not going to just use this as an excuse to draw all over my face, are you?”

“I mean, no promises that I'll be able to restrain myself, but! Gimme a chance anyway, I can make you even hotter than you already are! Plus, we'll match then.”

“... Fine. Just- nothing too crazy, alright?”

“Again, no promises.”

Virgil groaned, but he still passed the bag to Remus.

“Holy shit...”

Remus leaned over the basin of the bathroom sink, drumming his hands on the counter excitedly. He was starry-eyed as he observed the dark, dramatic colors covering his face: metallic emerald-green eyeshadow, excessively long lashes, and winged eyeliner sharp enough to cut a bitch. His lips were black as void, but shimmered like glitter. Everything about the look was dangerous, confrontational, and grim.

“This is more out there than I’d usually wear, but. Yeah, holy shit.”

Virgil's expression, despite his best efforts, was equally awed as he peered into the mirror. The color around his eyes was mismatched; a lime to moss green gradient over his purple eye, lavender to royal violet over his green one- both colors contrasted by smudged black eyeliner under his eye. His signature Racoon Look had been maintained in that aspect, but it was even more exaggerated. In addition to that, Remus had taken to drawing various little symbols along Virgil's cheekbones, including things like upside-down crosses. Finally, there was the fuchsia lip-gloss, stark against Virgil’s paler-than-normal foundation.

“It’s okay, I guess,” Virgil breathed reverently.

“I love it!” Remus crowed, clambering onto the counter just to get a better look at himself. Somehow, he'd already managed to smudge the hell out of his eyeshadow, but it kinda… worked for him, if Virgil was being honest.

“Vee, we have got to do this more often!”

Virgil looked from his reflection to Remus', startled in a way he didn't entirely understand. The intrusive facet met his gaze through the mirror, the smile sliding off his face when Virgil didn’t respond to him.

“Right, Raggedy-Anx? It doesn't have to be this, specifically, if you really don't want to. We could just watch movies together, that's fine. Or we could do anything at all! Right?”

Virgil was still silent, lost in his mind. Remus fell from a kneeling position to sitting with his legs hanging off the counter, turning his back to the mirror.

“Was this a one-time thing? That's alright, too, if you just needed help calming down. I'm not as good as the others, I know, but if they're ever too busy again, you'll think of me when you need help, at least. Right?”

Finally, Virgil snapped out of his daze when he heard the panicked edge to Remus’ voice, feeling his anxiety as Virgil noticed the wild look that had completely erased his giddiness. It was a look that Virgil had seen plenty of times before, when Remus had been ignored far too long and was right about to start ripping things to shreds for some scraps of attention. Only then did Virgil fully recognize what the expression actually meant; the deep, terrified need that swirled behind the look, unsure of how to ask for what it really wanted after so many denials of that very want.

“Shit, sorry,” Virgil moved to stand in front of him, eye-level to Remus even though he was elevated by the counter, “Hey, it's alright, Re, everything's fine.”

Remus was still trying very determinedly to smile.

“I know! Hell, I’m not the anxious one, I'm the one that makes people anxious,” his laugh sounded like it came from a throat full of broken glass, “I just- I liked this, ya know?”

“I know,” Virgil leaned forward, coaxing Remus' arms away from where he'd wrapped them around himself, “I like this, too.”

Remus let Virgil hold onto him, surprised into something like obedience.

“You? What?”

“I like this,” it wasn't as though Virgil was expecting to hug Remus, but it seemed to have happened on its own as they moved. It was leagues nicer than he could have imagined, despite the smell. “I like you…-r company.”

“That's weird,” Remus' legs curled around Virgil’s waist. Virgil rested his hands on Remus’ hips. He listened as the creative trait's breathing evened out, vaguely aware that the situation was similar to the one just an hour or so before. Except, the roles had been reversed, of course.

“I missed you. I know I never told you, but I missed you.”

Virgil felt guilt, hot and molten, dripping down his throat. He couldn't lie; he hadn't missed Remus when he left. But now he did, in a roundabout sort of way. He missed what could have been, all of the possible understanding and friendship and likely more that he could have had for so long with Remus- all of which he'd let slip by for years. Due to just writing the artist off as disgusting, or unnecessary.

And perhaps some of that misunderstanding was Remus' fault as well, but Virgil couldn’t find it in himself to hold it against him.

“You don't have to anymore. Miss me, I mean. I'm- fuck, I'm so sorry.”

“Me too,” Remus said, pulling back to settle Virgil with a happy-yet-tearfilled gaze.

“Aw, hey,” he tightened his grip at Remus' hips, smirking, “You're gonna fuck up all my hard work on that eyeliner, Re.”

Remus laughed, loud and shrieky and him, smiling unnaturally and brilliantly wide once again. Virgil's breath caught in his throat- not for the first time that day, he found himself trapped up in that wild, energetic face.

Before Virgil was entirely aware of what he was doing, he was leaning forward, pulling Remus in by the waist. When the cackling finally stopped short, so did he, both much too far and far too close to the Duke.

He didn't have the chance to explain himself, or apologize, or anything, because soon enough understanding flashed in Remus' eyes.

“Oh, oh yes, oh hell fucking yes.”

Remus didn’t wait a second longer before closing the distance and smashing his lips against Virgil’s. A startled sound bubbled up in his throat, dying quickly as he acclimated to what was happening. Just as he did, he was reciprocating the kiss.

Their teeth clashed together uncomfortably, and Virgil was hyper-aware of the threat both his own and Remus’ fangs posed if they weren’t careful, making it far from the perfect first kiss. But he wouldn’t have wanted that anyway, nor would he have expected it. It was, somehow, better.

Remus' hand dragged down Virgil's back, his fingers fitting onto the notches of the facet’s spine. Virgil shivered, pressing himself flush against the counter (and Remus) and digging his thumbs into the trait’s hips. The motion earned him a beautiful whine from the other as the kiss deepened, growing less awkward and more heated by the second.

Virgil was unaware of how much time was passing, but when they finally parted, both were short of breath and significantly disheveled. Remus had his back pressed up against the mirror, his hair even fuzzier than its usual state, expression dazed and face flushed. From what Virgil could make out in his own reflection, he wasn't much better off.

Just as soon as they'd separated, Remus' hand was on his face, his thumb dragging just under Anxiety's lip.

“You fucked up your lipstick,” he teased.

“So did you,” Virgil answered with a smirk, leaning into the touch.

“I guess we'll have to fix it later.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” Remus wriggled himself out of his pinned position, twisting around Virgil. He managed to situate himself and drop down from the bathroom counter, his manner suggestive, “Because all I wanna do right now is finish watching Cabin Fever with my new goth boyfriend and makeout during the boring parts.”

“Boyfriend?” Virgil ignored the jolt of warmth he felt at that, determined to stay nonchalant as he (subtly (not subtly)) slipped his hand into Remus’.

“You disagree?”

Virgil pretended to think it over, leading them to the door and taking his time to click it open.

“Nah, I don’t disagree,” he said finally, “I think I like the sound of that, actuall- yyyy.”

Virgil stopped short in the open doorway, voice dragging out in his shock. Behind him, he could feel Remus trying to crane around him to see what was happening, but Virgil didn’t move to accommodate him. Well, more accurately, he felt like he couldn’t really move at all, too busy parsing out the scene in front of him.

In the corner of the sectional- sharing a cushion- Janus and Patton sat, the former holding aloft a glass of wine, the latter snacking on a muffin. They sat with their legs tangled together, and had seemed to be engrossed with each other before the interruption. Both had paused mid-conversation to gawk in Virgil's direction, twin deer-in-headlights expressions on their faces.

“What-” Virgil began, bewildered.

“The fuck?” Remus finished, pushing his way out of the bathroom.

Janus struggled to sit up into a more dignified position and take the reigns of the conversation. It didn't take him long to overcome his surprise at the interruption, his surveying gaze sweeping over the other two Dark Sides contemplatively. The look made Virgil’s skin crawl.

“You know, we- well, we could ask you two-” he gestured at their interlocked hands, “-just the same question, couldn't we?”

For a moment, there was silence. Virgil looked from Patton to Janus. Janus looked from Virgil to Remus. Patton looked at the wall like it was the most interesting thing in the world. Remus looked at everyone and broke the silence.

“You didn't see us,” he announced, sidestepping his way to the staircase and dragging Virgil along with him, “And we didn't see you.”

Janus squinted, tipped his head, and nodded conspiratorially.

“Deal.”

With that little grant, Virgil and Remus darted up the stairs and into the sanctuary of the dimly lit hallway as quickly as they could. Luckily for them, Roman was probably either in a deep depression sleep or far into the imagination by now, and Logan Did Not Engage with Interpersonal Drama if he could help it.

There was a second for appreciating the absurdity of the situation (and catching their breath), before either spoke to each other.

“I’ve got a huge flat screen,” Remus piped up at last, jerking his thumb in the direction of his room.

“Any of us can conjure literally anything we want at any time, so I'm not sure what's impressive about that.”

Remus scowled, albeit playfully.

“Hush! Come watch someone slowly be consumed by a parasite with me!”

Virgil rolled his eyes and let Remus drag him off, his complaints accompanied by absolutely no efforts to avoid the situation.

Things were weird, there was no denying that. Maybe they'd end up being that way for a while yet, and Virgil knew he had a lot of news to catch up on, but he found that thoughts like that were way back in his mind. Whatever happened, he reasoned, he would still have this comfort. The arms of someone he was finally coming to know wrapped tight around him, playing up his back, a mouth trailing kisses on his neck as he half-watched horror films. Yes, things would be difficult with the others, but it was secondary.

There was someone on his side now. Solidly, unarguably there for him. With him. And that made it all feel a little bit easier.

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eponymous-rose · 5 years ago

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Talks Machina Highlights - Critical Role C2E98 (March 10, 2020)

Be warned: there are spoilers for the most recent episode below!

Tonight’s guests are Ashley Johnson and Travis Willingham!

Announcements: On Monday at 7 PM Pacific, there will be a special Doom: Eternal one-shot! VOD will be on YouTube on Wednesday. We’re one week away from the release of the new campaign book, Explorer’s Guide to Wildemount!

Episode 98: Dark Waters

Stats! 124 days passed between the Nein’s voyages at sea. It’s been 77 days since Fjord’s pact was broken. Fjord took 40% of the damage taken by the Nein and the crew (Yasha took second-most at 21%).

What’s it like RPing dream sequences with Matt? Ashley: “It gives me the fear.” They both agree it’s a panic feeling first, and then you get excited to see where he’ll go. Travis: “All cognizant thought goes out the window.” Ashley feels like she rushes it sometimes to avoid keeping the attention on her too long, and Travis dreads the open-ended questions: “What do you do?”

This is the first time Travis has had to wait a week to find out if his character will be revived. “Aside from analyzing the fight, it’s been okay, just because we’ve got two dope-ass clerics who feel pretty strongly about Fjord, so I hope we’re in a good place.” He’s mostly concerned about the intangibles and what they don’t know. He didn’t know the orb was still in him---he thought it was destroyed or reset when he threw away the sword. He’s worried that if they try “the normal cleric stuff”, it’s not going to work. He does almost prefer fights that are just dropped on them out of nowhere, because the anticipation is often the most stressful part.

Ashley’s still not sure if she has the feathers or not, since that was in a dream. “Building the character, I didn’t know that would be a possibility for that to change.” It’ll have to come out in the game. “Outside of that, I think-- obviously there’s a lot of healing with the group, but I think in terms of Yasha’s relationship with the Storm Lord, she’s still figuring that out. It’s very tough love, which she’s getting the tough love from the Storm Lord and the familial and kindness and love from the Mighty Nein. So that combo is going to be really good for her to turn things around. I don’t think she’s ever really had a feeling of worthiness outside of maybe being loved by Zuala. So I don’t know what that looks like for her yet, but we’ll see. I think she doesn’t fully know what her purpose is yet.”

Did Travis anticipate a confrontation with Uk’otoa back on the sea? “No, I’m a fucking moron. I didn’t think of that at all! I don’t have anything the ol’ snea snake wants anymore.” Brian: “Yes you do!” Travis: “I didn’t know that!” Dani: “The dark seed of power in you the Wildmother saw?” Travis: “I thought it was metaphorical! Well, now that you say it like that...” He wasn’t upset at all. “More than anything I was just trying to plan my branch narrative for what was going to happen next. More than anything, it became clear that they had just massive intent to come and kill me. I mean, Matt played it beautifully, so even in moments where I was disappointed in myself, like forgetting that enemy characters can hold their turns.”

Cosplay of the Week: a dramatic cape-flaring Fjord! (Ming.of.mings, photo by Rsellos, makeup by Omglobnunu, all on Instagram)

Travis: “The thing that hit me the most was when it came over and it grabs Fjord’s body and starts to walk him off the side of the ship, I was like, Mercer, what the fuck, man! I’m already dead! Give me a second!” He notes that they haven’t done a resurrection ritual yet in this campaign, only revivifies. Losing the two death saves when getting stabbed while unconscious was the moment when he realized how significant the intent was here. Everyone notes how clutch the Counterspell was.

On Jester and Beau showing concern for Yasha’s wellbeing: “I think for a lot of people, sometimes accepting compliments makes you uncomfortable. I’m one of those people. It’s a weird thing for Yasha to hear, because even in her tribe it’s not like that was a normal way of communicating with each other. Only compliments she would have gotten about how she looks or her character as a person were from Zuala. I think, especially with Jester, she’s such an open character that has so much love to give, just bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, just refreshing to be around, they’re all teaching Yasha very, very positive ways to feel and accept that.”

They talk about the way the improvisation can lead to poetic parallels like Yasha and Fjord falling/rising. Ashley: “I feel like so much of that is Matt, and he’s such a masterful storytelling.” Travis: “It’s such a gift, too. He’s giving you something new in the story that you created, and so you have instant ownership of this thing he made just for you.” Ashley: “You just hope you can meet him where he’s at.”

On Yasha’s harp: “Music is a very huge part of my life. I’m using the harp as, yes, for self-care for her, but also I think music can be a form of therapy. There was a moment where I was like, man, it would be so fun to multiclass as a bard, but then I remembered my wisdom is so low... it wouldn’t work. And I actually had talked to Matt about it. There’s more that I want to explore with that, and I don’t quite know what it is yet. I think where it sits right now, it’s a form of therapy for her. I’d been wanting to give her positive things to do to try to pull her out of this place that she’s in, and I think it’s really helpful.”

Seeing the sword again: “I think more than anything, it just unsettled Fjord. There was nothing about that that was easy to adapt to: seeing the sword, and then seeing multiples of the sword, just wondering who is this, what do they have, do they have abilities, what am I missing, how much do I not know about it?” He was initially worried that it was Avantika come back to life.

Fan Art of the Week: Caleb, Caduceus, and Fjord during the fight! (CreativeBleu on Twitter)

On Yasha having a lot of run-ins with creepy people: “I think a lot of that is because of the way I rolled the character, I rolled really low for Yasha’s stats, which is a bummer. She’s very susceptible because of that to being swayed, as we have noticed with Obann and things that have happened in her past. That’s maybe something that she puts out there, where people pick up on that. There’s obviously still and probably will always be a bit of darkness in her. I think people like Icky-thong and Lord Sharpe and people like that can pick up on it. I wanted to play a character like that anyway, I wanted to play somebody with a little darkness in there. I do think it is a source of frustration for her, and that’s where a lot of the guilt comes from.”

Has piecing together Caleb’s past changed Fjord’s opinion of him? “No, not at all. Maybe it’s just me, but seeing how much pain Caleb carries with himself from his past-- if he was flippant about it, that might give him pause, but he’s so fucking tortured about it. He can’t harbor any ill-will or confusion about where his heart lies. He’s full of regret, there’s a real person in there. I think also Fjord is like, I don’t want to be defined by my past, it really, really sucked. Every day since Fjord started with the M9 has been continually the best days of his life, and I think the same is probably true of Caleb. There’s no judgment because that doesn’t help anything. He just want to observe, absorb, acknowledge. You’re making positive changes, and that’s everything. That’s heroic, despite what you think is monstrous. That’s not who I see.” Brian talks about how life can end “when you choose to be defined by your worst moment”. Travis: “People that chain themselves to their past obviously haven’t moved beyond that past, and that process looks different for everyone.” But he believes you should get to define who you are after you’ve moved past that.

On the few new lighthearted moments with Yasha: “I think it’s the comfortability of the people around her. I think it’s just getting more comfortable with everybody, and also it’s just... I don’t know. If I think of something that I think would be funny, I’ll probably say it, but try to keep it in whatever Yasha’s sense of humor would be.” She notes some similarities to Grog. “She’s absolutely a teddy bear on the inside. She sees so much beauty in the world. I love playing those contradictions. She’s always had a sense of humor.”

How does Fjord define being a “good man” now as opposed to the start of the campaign? Initially, it was Vandren: “tough love, not overly emotional, not really available in that way, but conveyed a strong sense of leadership, knows what he wants, is focused, driven, stalwart, dependable, a lot of those bullshit male ideas. Some have value and some are just misplaced. If you try to live up to the idea of somebody else, you’re often going to find yourself going down a path that doesn’t look very familiar. Fuck it, I’m going to be me and see what that is. He’s got the agency. Maybe you just try and be you and hope that’s a good man.”

#critical role #critical role spoilers #talks machina #talks machina spoilers #long text post

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allthefilmsiveseenforfree · 4 years ago

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Connie and Carla

I know nothing about this film requested by Chad other than the following facts: It was Nia Vardalos’s follow-up to the indie smash hit My Big Fat Greek Wedding, and it was universally reviled by audiences and critics alike. So I’m in for a fun afternoon! The plot is your basic Some Like It Hot ripoff - Connie (Vardalos) and Carla (Toni Collette) are childhood best friends who have spent their whole lives performing together, believing they are destined for musical theater greatness. After witnessing a murder, they go on the run and hide out in the last place anyone would think to look for them - as women pretending to be men pretending to be women, aka performers in a drag queen bar in L.A. Everything’s going great until a BOY shows up (David Duchovny), and Connie falls for him. Gender gags, musical theater numbers, mistaken identify, Russian mobsters, hijinks - yeah, we’ve all drunk this cocktail before. So was this top shelf, or something found in a plastic jug at the gas station? Well...

How about a mid-level ridiculous flavored vodka? Like Pinnacle Whipped Cream or something. The film’s conceptions of gender (and of straight women’s feelings of entitlement to what should be LGBTQ spaces) are not my favorite. But its heart is in the right place and overall this leads to something pretty fun and charming, especially if you happen to love musical theater.

Some thoughts:

If there were an airport lounge where I could watch two sad 30-somethings singing a medley of musical theater’s greatest hits, I would go there every day. I wouldn’t even book a flight, that would just be my favorite bar. I think I would go broke driving to the airport every day and buying drinks in this lounge. I’d have my birthday party there.

Oh I love Greg Gruenberg in a bit part as the cheesy celebrity bus tour guide in L.A.

Hello David Duchovny as Jeff! He was my first celebrity crush, and his aw shucks nice guy thing in this movie is really working for me.

This is wildly offensive to drag queens not because of stereotypes, but because no drag act would ever come so ill-prepared with a Rocky Horror number. I recognize that in 2004 we didn’t have over a decade of RuPaul’s Drag Race under our belts, but c’mon, even the most sheltered Midwestern queer would come with something better than this.

Is this supposed to be some kind of feminist statement about beauty standards in L.A.? This anti-botox rant Connie and Carla go on, and the makeover of the woman in the salon - no no no, straight hair and beige lipstick is Bad but curly hair and lip liner is Good. It feels confusing that we’re supposed to see this as empowering when we’re just trading one commodified flavor of femininity for another.

There’s something that just feels deeply wrong about these women taking one of the only paying drag gigs in town, particularly when actual drag performers come to them and beg them to open up their act to include other drag queens. Note that they all offer up tangible skills - I can sew a dress in 3 hours, I can do incredible makeup, I’ve got great choreography. Yes Connie and Carla can sing, but drag is meant to be performative - the artifice is part of what makes it an art form. Smarter queer people than me have written about this, but even for the uneducated, there’s something about this concept that feels off, wrong and exploitative, and deeply rooted in straight privilege. It’s the same icky feeling I get at the gay bar when all the seats for the drag show are taken up by straight women’s bachelorette parties, while actual queer women and men who came to see the show are pushed to standing room.

Ok, I do kind of love these interludes with Tibor (Boris McGiver) looking for the girls in every dinner theater and Broadway show in the country and the only show playing is Mame every time. Fun fact - McGiver’s father actually starred in the 1974 version of Mame!

Feels a little weird that Connie is the one who is explaining to Jeff why drag queens “like to dress up.” Is this being an ally or just erasing and talking over queer folks’ experiences? This is what I mean when I say it feels off - I don’t think it’s malicious, but the way the film handles queer stories feels like a dismissal, an invalidation. Like these straight women can do queer camp better than these gay men.

Did Carla literally just say “I need to get out of this closet”????

Connie is literally the worst at maintaining a cover. The trappings of fame are proving too alluring!

As far as performances go, Collette and Vardalos have great chemistry, and Duchovny is being pretty dreamy as the romantic lead who’s around because he’s trying to reconnect with his estranged brother, Robert (Stephen Spinella). Nobody is winning an acting award for this, but Collette especially is a lot of bubbly fun.

Jeff is a difficult character to grapple with. On the one hand, he doesn’t always handle Robert’s sexuality with grace or compassion, and that can be difficult to watch as a queer person because we all have experienced that same kind of look, that tone of “why can’t you just be normal?” However, he’s putting in an honest effort to grow, and I think that should count for something. Also he straight up gets sexually assaulted by Connie, so I don’t blame him for having a hard time feeling comfortable around the drag queen scene. And that’s another fucked up thing, just adding to the “gay men are predatory and will put the moves on straight guys at the first chance” stereotype.

Even though it sounds cringey as hell when he says it, I’m sure it is probably cathartic for any gay kid who stumbles across this movie and hears Jeff make his big speech about “I should have just loved you and accepted you and not cared about the fact that you wear dresses.” That’s what I mean when I say the script seems to have its heart in the right place even though the way it’s expressing a lot of these ideas just reinforces the status quo rather than interrogating it, or propping up the stories of people who live outside that status quo.

My god, do I love Debbie Reynolds in this head-to-toe red glitter number.

Yeah I don’t think all these queens would take this kindly to being lied to and having their act infiltrated by a couple of straight women. Like this feels laughably “all’s well that ends well.”

Did I Cry? Ok, a tear slipped out when Jeff and Robert hugged for the first time.

This was a very interesting watch. I know I seem to be dragging this shit out of this movie, but I actually largely enjoyed the experience of watching it. It’s got a very 2004-esque view of some complex gender and sexuality issues (and wouldn’t it have been so much more interesting if a queer person had written this and was able to use it to interrogate issues of femininity and its performance as it relates to queerness?). BUT, honestly, the whole thing is Shakespearean in its plot and its broad strokes characters. You’ve got crossdressing, mistaken identity, some light gay panic, long lost brothers reuniting - all that’s missing is a Duke and a forest setting, and you’ve got half of Shakespeare’s comedies right there. And much like Shakespeare, there’s nothing here that hasn’t been done before - it’s the medium parts of Some Like It Hot, the general plot of Sister Act (swap nuns for drag queens), the gender panic of every cross-dressing movie. All very surface-level stuff but there’s a reason these same kind of stories have been putting butts in seats for 400 years.

If you liked this review, please consider reblogging or subscribing to my Patreon! For as low as $1, you can access bonus content and movie reviews, or even request that I review any movie of your choice.

#121in2021 #connie and carla #connie and carla review #nia vardalos #toni collette #david duchovny #movie reviews #film reviews #patreon review

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alindae-anne · 3 years ago

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What Makes a Book?

I want to take a break from my novel and dive into a history lesson of books themselves. Why? Well first of all, I will be honest, this blog is for an assignment. But also because the way books have evolved over the last 5,000+ years is fascinating!

Of course no one ever really thinks about THE book, just the fact that the story within its pages--the mystery, the romance, whatever they happen to be enjoying--is a great read (or maybe not so great), but have they ever wondered what materials the book is made from? Who invented it? How the book has become one of the most common and most used items of all time?

No. Of course they didn't wonder any of those things. And if they did, they probably didn't take the time to research any of these burning questions, either.

How great, then, that I wrote this post?! Today is your lucky day! (Also, it is a good thing that Keith Houston, author of Shady Characters, decided to write a whole book about it (1).) I'm going to use the pages of a classic tale to explain some cool things you probably never noticed while reading a book before.

Gulliver’s Travels was originally published in London in 1726 by Benjamin Motte. The author, Jonathan Swift, used it to satirize London society and culture, poking holes at the social hierarchies and systems, basically making out everyone living in the 18th century to be fools--but mostly the wealthy and those who were obsessed with scientific progression (2). If you have not read it, I highly encourage adding it to your reading list, or at the very least there is a 2010 movie, featuring Jack Black as Gulliver, that you could watch. (It’s Jack Black, okay?)

This 2 page spread of Gulliver's Travels pictured above is actually found in The Franklin Library edition from Franklin Center, Pennsylvania, published in 1979. This is the first printing of this edition, and its pages, the way it is printed, and the way it is bound and presented, are all features of the modern 20-21st century book, plus some extra bells and whistles. The most interesting qualities come from the publishers themselves who specifically design their books to be very snazzy--meant for collectors’ editions! They include different kinds of leather binding, exclusive illustrations, and may be signed or part of a particular series specific to a certain author or genre (3). This makes the books published here very valuable and sought after.

Gulliver’s Travels is hardcover. Specifically, “fine leather in boards.” This means the spine and front and back boards (or cover) of the book are bound in leather. The leather is fine and and delicate and able to be decorated and engraved upon.4 Above you can see how fancy it looks with the gilt gold engravements. Even its pages are gilt!

This picture shows more clearly the binding, and of course the spine, which is “hubbed,” or ridged, for added texture.

At this point you may have notice that this version is much different than the original published in 1726. That is because over time, the materials involved in making books have changed slightly or the processes have become more efficient or cost worthy, etc. Either way, the anatomy of the book has not wavered. Keith Houston has dissected the book into certain components and we can see them in each book we read:

I have attempted to label it as best as I can, so hopefully you can follow along:

Chapter Number

a) this seems to be a description, more or less of the chapter, or the Chapter Title. b) “A Voyage to Lilliput” seems much more title-like to me, although this is technically called the “Recto Running Head.” The recto running head is a condensed or abbreviated chapter title, repeating on every right-side page to the end of the chapter.

Drop Cap. This would be the first letter of the first word of a chapter, which is usually exaggerated or embellished in some way.

Opener Text

Head Margin - the space between the top of the page and text

Foot Margin - the space between the bottom of the page and text

Folio - page number

It has taken quite a while for books to become so sophisticated. Because it was published in 1726, Gulliver's Travels is technically what you could call "modern" in terms of how long ago books began their journey to what they are today, but even between 1726 and 1979 the quality has improved. This edition published by Franklin Library is a perfect model for the modern book of today.

The 2 page spread we analyzed above is made from paper. But books were not always made with paper, or even in the book form, bound with anything at all, and they were not printed either. They were written by hand on papyrus.

Papyrus was the first material used as "paper" beginning in Egypt. The reeds were stripped, strung side by side and pressed together. Papyrus was durable and sturdy, and the water of the Nile was abundant in aluminum sulfate, which brightened it so that writing and scribbles could be seen better. There is no particular origin of when Papyrus had first been invented but it must have been around the end of the 4th millenium BCE (Houston 4).

Parchment is made from animal skin that has been soaked, scrubbed, dried, and stretched for days and days, creating a more flexible, yet still durable, material for writing. It was also thinner and could be made "cleaner" and brighter by chemical means. Religion heavily influenced its distribution; some parchment use was literally banned because the type of animal skin used to make it wasn't considered "holy" or "good." For example, the lamb or a calf was acceptable, but how dare you use parchment made from goat skin? What is wrong with you?

Besides the fact that parchment is kind of gross if you think about it (although to be fair, you can’t be too choosy in times right before the common era), it was also expensive to keep certain cattle only for paper making, and the reliability of having new cattle at the time you may need more paper was not very high.

Paper was first introduced in China. It is made from bits of cloth and rags soaked in water, and after breaking down into pulp, strained through a wire grate and pressed to dry. Fun fact-- the Rhar West Art Museum in Manitowoc, Wisconsin has held classes showing how to make paper using this exact process.

There is a trend here: the materials used to make paper (and papyrus and parchment before it) become scarce or too expensive, or they are just not “good enough.” People want their paper thin and smooth, but still strong and durable; crisp and bright, but still able to last years and years without crumbling. There have been times that processes used to ensure these preferred qualities of paper included using chemicals that ended up negatively affecting some other quality. For example, the paper would be white as snow, yet the chemical that did this broke down the natural adhesives which kept the paper intact.

Have you heard that paper grows on trees? Well, that is partly true since after rags and cloths were nowhere to be found (unless people were about to start donating the shirts off their backs), wood pulp has now since been used... the higher the demand for paper, the greater demand for those materials used for its creation.

This brings us to printing side of things. The first ways of printing weren’t of how we think of it now. Even before papyrus, people were still writing and making inscriptions on pretty much anything they could get their hands on. The earliest forms of writing were rather indentations or markings on clay tablets. Found across the Middle East, it is a cuneiform script of the Sumerian people from 3300 BCE (Houston 79).

Similarly, the Egyptians were also keen on developing their own writing system which today we recognize as hieroglyphs. A lot of these were found carved on the walls of tombs but also began to be used on papyrus in 2600 BCE (Houston 82-83).

The Egyptians celebrated their scribes and believed those who wrote with brush and ink on papyrus to be channeling power--that it was a gift from the gods--”wielded with respect and humility” (Houston 87). The hieroglyphs not only showed the intention of the writer, visually, but often the picture would be associated with or connected to certain sounds which emerged more formal use of letters as time went on.

The alphabet we use today can be traced back to the Phoenician alphabet (used by the Egyptians) which had evolved into the Greek and then Roman alphabets (Houston 91-92). At this point in time, scribes were using water based ink which was fine for papyrus, but during the transition to parchment they realized that ink smudges quite a bit. This led to the creation of iron gall ink that would darken and adhere to the parchment as it dried due to its chemical makeup in contact with oxygen in the air.

Jump ahead to 1400s and we are with Johannes Gutenberg and the printing press! One thing Keith Houston make sure to mention is that although Gutenberg invented the printing press itself, to help moveable type and mass printing, the idea of printing had not been new. Clay pieces used as stamps and similar objects had been excavated and dated back thousands of years before the clay inscribed cuneiform tablets were made. And a primitive version of a sort of printing press is mentioned being made by a man named Bi Sheng during the reign of Qingli from 1041-1048 AD (Houston 110). Obviously nothing great came from it, most likely because he was of unofficial position. Even so, movable type was still possible, although painstakingly slow with wooden blocks used as stamps. This was common for the next few hundred years in China.

Even though Gutenberg's press completely revolutionized the transmission of knowledge, it was still quite slow in comparison to the versions which came after, only being able to print 600 characters a day (Houston 118). From Gutenberg's printing press came other types of presses that improved the speed or efficiency of movable type immensely. These all came after the original publication of Guliver's Travels, starting in the early 1800s with the Columbian press, eventually the Linotype, and then lack of precision called for the Monotype, which could produce 140 wpm (Houston 149).

The 2 page spread above then, could possibly have been printed by the Linotype, but most likely, however, the Monotype, which is the more accurate of the two. Another possibility could be "sophisticated photographic and 'lithographic' techniques" or "'phototypsetting'" (Houston 151). Houston mentions that the printing press age has died and now faces a digital future.

I'm at my 10 image limit which means I better wrap this up with some interesting facts about bookbinding. On BIBLIO.com I was trying to see exactly what "fine leather in boards" meant which is apparently how Gulliver's Travels is bound. I didn't find any phrase that matched, but from my understanding, the leather is very supple and pliable, which is why it was able to be gilt with gold, and it was able to form nicely to the hubbing on the spine.

The website also explains that the first "book binding" was technically just putting the pieces of paper or parchment together and pressing them between two boards. Literally. Like just setting them on a board and putting another board on top of that. Eventually leather was introduced, first as a cord wrapped around the book to keep the boards in place. As time progressed, the practice was improved and perfected so it was less crude. This involved the creation of the "spine" where the pages meet together and can therefore open and close in a v shape without flying away.

This website helped explain some of the other embellishments and extra flair that can be added to a book's binding. It mostly goes over leather binding which is from most animal skin but there is a unique leather bound book that can be bound with seal skin. Some of the books on the website are so expensive because of the materials they are bound with and the effects that have been created in the cover, for example, Benjamin Franklin's observations on electricity, which has had acid added to the page, discoloring it for a lightning strike effect, and includes a key to represent his famous experiment.

Gulliver's Travels, although not quite so fancy, is still a very beautifully bound book with decorated endpapers, meaning the inside cover is laden with designed paper rather than boring white or some other neutral color.

I hope you found this journey of the book as interesting and as exciting as I did while writing this post! You must really love books because even my attention span isn't this long. I will admit I took at least 3 different breaks.

I'm back to my novel for now, thanks for listening😎

Bibliography

Houston, Keith--Author of Shady Characters, which I used extensively in my TikTok “history of punctuation” project--also wrote -> The BOOK - a cover-to-cover exploration of the most powerful object of our time, 2016.

British Library Website -> works -> “Gulliver’s Travels overview”

Masters, Kristin. “Franklin Library Editions: Ideal for Book Collectors?” Books Tell You Why, 2017 (blog).

BIBLIO.com -> “Leather Binding Terminology and Techniques”

#bookbinding #papermaking #printing #book history #keith houston

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the-l-spacer · 4 years ago

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Promise all you say is true - Chapter 2

(Ch 1) (ao3)

Summary: Lloyd wakes up one morning to discover that, on a whim, the Metaverse had decided to release him and Raven from the Lovers archetype they had been locked in for as long as either could remember.

In the process, however, reality became… just a little screwed up.

Now, Raven is gone, and in his place is David Adams. David Adams, who had never left Ashland, working middle-management at Justacorp. David Adams, who had never heard the anvils, never jumped off Warner's Peak.

But Lloyd remembers everything, and he makes it his personal quest to win back the love of his life.

...No matter how many 'strictly professional' coffee dates it took.

Chapter summary: Over carrot cake, the two hash some things out

Y’all… I seriously didn’t expect this scene to happen or get as long as it did but. Here we are. With this chapter, the setup for the fic is officially DONE and we can get into the stuff y’all came here for (aka Lloydven angst). In the meantime, enjoy Lloyd and Han getting in some awkward bonding time!

“Feeling better?”

The man sat opposite her simply sighs. “Yes. Thank you, Han.”

Over a tray of tea, cakes and sweets (for Lloyd, his first meal of the day), the two go over, in painstaking detail, every narrative visited, every jaunt taken through the CU, every significant location in Raven’s life. As minutes, and then an hour ticks by, marked by the comings and goings of those around them (and the increasingly resigned expressions of the waitstaff as they drag out their meal as long as possible), they scrawl out possible places the missing Postie could be on a steadily depleting supply of napkins, provided generously by the small bakery in New Camden, a joint quickly becoming synonymous with Serious Talk Time.

When it comes to names and places, Han can’t be of much help, but that is to be expected, her having only known the man a scant year. Instead, she simply offers the obvious, locations Raven and Lloyd had spoken of the most around her; the first and second Playhouse, New Albion, even entertaining the idea that he was here, in this narrative.

“Impossible,” Lloyd insists for the second time, though Han notes that he’s sounding significantly less certain than before.

“How are you so sure?” Before Lloyd can respond, she quickly adds, “Waitwaitwait don’t tell me. The both of you have… a psychic link. From your weird wizard powers. Or something.”

“I remind you that you too have, as you so eloquently put it, weird wizard powers.” He replies, one hand spearing a forkful of carrot cake, the other forming air quotes. “But that aside, you’re not completely wrong.”

Han raises an eyebrow. “Huh. I was going out on a limb there. You two are seriously linked together?”

“That’s actually the other thing I have to talk through,” he says. “Have Ravey and I told you about the Lovers archetype yet?”

“Give me a second.” Han takes a long sip from her cup of Earl Grey, mentally sorting through everything her mentors-slash-great-grandparents had taught her about Posthumans and the Metaverse. “It’s… the thing where you and him are basically bound together, right? I thought that was metaphorical.”

Shaking his head, Lloyd says, “It’s very much not. After spending enough time in each others’ company -and back then, we had nothing but time to spare- we began embodying the Lovers archetype.

I shan’t bore you with the details, but you have the broad strokes of it. Essentially, we became irreversibly bound. As trite as it sounds, we had a sixth sense, of sorts, around the other. When we were apart, I would feel his absence like… a missing limb, so we always knew when the other was close by.”

Only half-listening to his explanation, Han lets Lloyd ramble. God knows he needed it. He was one of those people who absolutely had to talk through their problems, a tendency that annoyed her on any given day, except this one. Extenuating circumstances and all.

Huh. Deja vu.

Her mind wanders to the first time she had been here, it was just her and Raven back then, him having invited her out after the Singularity left New Albion. It really was a memory, a story for another time, but it had been surprisingly nice, even if her eyes were still red and puffy in a way that makeup just couldn’t conceal.

They had shared a slice of (what else) carrot cake, speaking of narratives and what she had learned of the art of finesse, and then, as they talked more, coping mechanisms, sacrifice, loss, and a rambling (but utterly sincere) apology from Raven.

It had ended with a hug, and granted, it was kind of awkward, Raven having to get up from the corner chair he was squeezed in to give her a half-embrace, as close as he could get to her side of the table (the bakery was as renowned for its carrot cake as it was infamous for its tight quarters). But Han still remembers the feeling of his arms around her shoulders, warm and almost reassuring.

And now he’s gone. Gone along with the rapport they were just starting to build after their disastrous first encounter. Just when she was finally beginning to see him as family.

The only questions on her mind are how and why.

She tunes back in as Lloyd finishes his explanation. “So you’re saying that because you’re locked into this archetype, if he was here, you’d know.”

What? She could multi-task just as good as anyone else!

Lloyd sighs tiredly. “Yes, but there’s the rub. I don’t think that him and I form the archetype any more.”

Well this raises more questions than answers. Still, Han pats his arm. “Drink your tea. You’ve been talking for way too long as is.”

She waves off Lloyd’s apologies over his loquaciousness, sweeping a hand as if swatting an imaginary fly, then realising this was a gesture she had ended up incorporating into her movements after seeing it time and time again from Raven.

Dammit. Even when absent he finds a way to worm into her head. The guy was just infectious like that. Is. Is infectious. She refuses to believe that he’s truly gone. Speaking of…

“If what you’re saying is true, I guess that answers the ‘why’ aspect of things, He’s gone because the Metaverse decided to release you from your archetype.”

Over the rim of his teacup, Lloyd’s mouth quirks into a half-smile, the first Han had seen from him all day. “You always find a way to make things sound so simple.”

“It’s why you keep me around,” Han jokes, feeling a responding grin spread across her face.

“Don’t put yourself down like that,” Lloyd says, leaning forward with sudden seriousness. “You do have a good head about you, and I… admire the speed at which you’re picking up your Posthuman abilities. You successfully mastered in a matter of months what took me decades to learn, and-”

Han can’t help the rush of pride that comes at his words. Lloyd was always the more critical of her two mentors, and nigh impossible to please (she was still rather sore over his snide comment over the tunnels). She almost misses what he says next, but catches it just in time.

“-and you’re a perfectly charming person. I had my doubts before, but it’s clear that you’re Isabel’s kin. You remind me a lot of her, you know.”

Han softens. “I had a great teacher. Two great teachers, as a matter of fact.”

He winces at the mention of his missing boyfriend, and she impulsively reaches a hand across the table to grasp his. “We’ll find the other one together, okay?”

Lloyd grips her hand, giving a tight nod, steely resolve in his eyes.

“Okay.”

They exit the bakery as afternoon fades into evening, the gas lamps that line the pavements igniting one by one, illuminating the streets of New Camden.

“Just to go over the plan one more time,” Han says, “I’ll stay here and try to scout him out. If he isn’t here, I’ll try New Albion. Then, where the First Playhouse used to be.”

Lloyd hums in affirmation. “I’ll keep you updated on my whereabouts as well. If you find him, let me know.”

“Of course, and you do the same.”

“I will. Keep safe.”

“You too.”

They stand there, then, regarding each other in the lamplight. Finally, Lloyd reaches out a hand, as if to administer a firm handshake.

Nah, fuck that.

Han bypasses the hand, and wraps Lloyd in a tight hug. After a moment, she feels his arms wrap around her too.

“It’s going to be okay,” Han says once they break apart, gripping him by the shoulders.

“I… can’t thank you enough for your help, Han. I’ll make it up to you if- once he’s found.”

“Psssh, that’s not necessary,” she retorts with a smirk, already walking in the opposite direction. “Your acknowledgement that I’m more talented than you is more than enough payment.”

Lloyd bristles. “I was being nice. Don’t push it.”

“You said it! It’s been set in stone! I’m gonna tell everyone I know about this!” She calls over her shoulder, disappearing into an alleyway.

Determined not to let her have the last word, Lloyd yells, "Only if you admit to everyone that I'm a great teacher!”

"Never! Also, screw you!"

Shaking his head and chuckling, Lloyd begins making preparations of his own, mentally steeling himself to make the narrative jump, and going down the mental list of places he was going to search.

The hunt would begin in the Collective Unconscious. Then, the different narratives the lovers (now lowercase) had frequented. Finally, once all other options had been exhausted, he would return to Ravey’s home narrative. The one place the two had never been to, at the insistence of his missing half.

Ashland.

#shaperaverse #new albion #Paul shapera #writings

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burnedbyshoto · 5 years ago

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Yes, sir - Background

so this is an informational post about my...multichapter fic! i’m starting this story in a few days and this is the background information about the story. it’s going to be a multichapter (im thinking 10 parts) of todoroki shouto x reader with a side of momojirou, because they’re gay, karen.

anywho, this is just what I need you guys to know about it before the story just as world building!!! let me know what you guys think in comments or in my inbox please :) i’m also tagging this as momojirou, but only this teaser because its not as focused in the storyline but just in case theres any momojirou fans who also love self insert todoroki fics.

Yes, sir maid!au an inside look of the most elite and powerful family of japan:

— you’re a struggling individual living paycheck to paycheck. you had wanted to do something with the arts, but realized that cleaning and organizing are things that make you happy so you drop out of college while nearly being done two years earlier than you should have been.

— the world is not a forgiving place to people who aren’t actively pursuing an actual white collar job, so your family shunned you. it’s okay because you lived with roommates anyways.

— you had tried the entire “maid cafe” in tokyo and absolutely hated it. it was humiliating and full of weird kinky and horny boys from japan and other foreign countries. they always waited until you were off your shift to approach you! it was your fault though. you had no idea what it was exactly, your dumb friend and roommate mina had convinced you that it was a cleaning company. you were dumb and believed her.

— so you had taken a grueling task of being a janitor for a local company. it still wasn’t exactly what you wanted. they had very specific things you were allowed to do, and it was only cleaning. no organizing. at this point you were ready to become a secretary. as a secretary you’d be able to clean up a bit and mostly organize.

— going back to the job center, you sit down with the man who had been helping you out with finding jobs, kirishima. he looks up anything suitable to your needs. (you’ve been here so many times he doesn’t even ask)

— it must be some miracle because there’s a maid request at some rich mansion over in the Aichi prefecture. meaning a 30 minute commute to work. the paycheck is HUGE and they’re desperate. it seems that no one lasts around for longer than three days.

— “do you want the job, y/l/n?”

— “IS THAT EVEN A QUESTION?! OH MY GOD YES, KIRISHIMA!”

— you send in your resume to this family, and within ten minutes of kirishima telling you how to follow up, you get an email. they’ve selected to hire you.

— “well good luck, it’s the todoroki family!” kirishima laughs as he reads the profile for the job selection and you feel yourself go breathless.

— the TODOROKI’s??? you feel your breathing increase as you stare at the grinning man in front of you

– Todoroki Shouto and Yaoyorozu-Todoroki Momo were richer than rich. they were both from families of old wealth and new wealth. the nation cried and watched them get married three years ago when they turned 22.

— they are the royalty of japan aside from the royal family themselves. you were only 20 at the time of this event, but damn, even you had teared up slightly as the worlds hottest man married the tall gorgeous woman next to him.

— they’re heroes as well, well not literally.

— momo is a philanthropist, scientist, and the occasional model and designer. she’s a creator, an artist.

— shouto is the CEO of the Todoroki Company, a company that did literally everything. they’ve been in business since the beginning of time, and they have never had a single true competitor since the Yaoyorozu family! but it seems that the heirs of both companies fell in love, forming the ultimate company. but in terms of his heroic deeds he volunteers a lot at hospitals, a focus to burn and frostbite victims and pays off medical bills. a philanthropist. has modeled.

— you nearly collapse as you read through their profiles again as you head back home.

— mina greets you at the door, your three other roommates chilling in the living room.

— ashido mina is a chemist, but despite being financially secure now, loves to live with the everyone and won’t leave no matter how much she could leave your little 6 room, 2 bath apartment.

— uraraka ochako is a construction worker. she works for her family and she’s their mascot, so they’ve had a booming business! she’s independent from them, but definitely can’t afford her own place! when mina suggested they room together she said yes.

— hagakure toru is an instamodel. her income comes in from promotions. she has the weird genetic thing that makes her super super pale. she’s not albino, but she just as well might be. she’s super cute and always down to help people with their instas. she’s the reason why your guys feeds are cute.

— asumi tsuyu is a herpetologist with a focus on frogs. she’s super smart, the mom friend of the group. she was bullied when growing up so she loves this group of you girls, main reason why, like mina, she hasn’t moved out on her own.

— the five of you girls are basically sisters and they supported your decision to go and do this job. of course mina and toru were jealous it was for the todoroki’s but they were all there to help you get ready for the first day.

— makeup done, hair did, best work clothes on, you’re now own your way to work

— so there you stand in front of the mansion, your jaw dropped at the sheer size of it. your arm reaches out to press the doorbell/intercom?

— “Todoroki Residence, how may I help you?”

— “Hi, I’m Y/l/n Y/n! I was just hired for the maid position?” you squeak, suddenly feeling powerless at the thought of just what was really happening. there’s a long period of silence that further eats at your nerves.

— the gates open and you suddenly feel your heartbeat in your throat as you make the first few steps forward, unknowingly entering the chaotic and secretive livelihood of this famous and rich family.

#todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki shouto #todoroki x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #todoroki series #todoroki smut #todoroki angst #todoroki fluff #todoroki maid!au #bnha writing blog #momojirou #todoroki shoto x reader

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just-emotional-trash · 5 years ago

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An Outranked Romance Ch. 3

Pairings: Eventual Romantic Prinxiety, Logicality, and Remile

Story Summary: At Camp Regality, lords, ladies, and royalty alike learn the values of being a member of court in the Kingdom of Animiria. Prince Roman is thrilled at the chance to get out of the stuffy palace! Virgil, the son of a lowly Baron, is ready to leave the moment he gets there, and plans to slip through unnoticed. But what happens when a certain Princely figure won’t leave him alone?

Inspired by this post by @ironwoman359

Chapters: World-building - First - Previous - Next

Chapter Warning(s): None (that I see, but please tell me if you find one!)

Words: 2.8k

——————————

The first thing that Virgil heard when he woke up the next morning was humming.

Quickly after that, he noticed that Remy wasn’t in their bed. Instead, they were in the bathroom, most likely doing their make-up. That on it’s own wasn’t out of the norm. What was strange was the fact that they were softly singing Disney Princess songs whist doing it. Remy, for all of their amazing traits, did not sing princess songs. They claimed it was to protect their ‘cool factor’ whatever that meant. So waking up to a rendition of A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes was a new experience for Virgil.

“Remy?” Virgil called out as he entered the bathroom, “Are you... having a good morning?” Remy looked at Virgil in the mirror with a smile the size of a dinner plate. 

“I am having a wonderful morning, thank you! My crops are watered, the sun is shining warm on my face-” 

“-But your eyes are photosensitive-” 

“-and the cutest boy in the kingdom is here! At this camp!” Remy finished their dark purple lip with a flourish as they turned to Virgil. 

Virgil was taken aback with the realization that Remy had done their eye make-up. “You... you did your eyes! They look amazing!”

And they did, with subtle eyeshadow and eyeliner with a wing so sharp it could cut glass. All this seemed to overpower their red eyes that were normally kept hidden behind shades. Their ocular albinism was fairly severe, and while it didn’t impair their vision much, the red eyes freaked most people out. Not to mention they would go blind if exposed to sunlight for too long. They wore shades for a good reason. But because of said shades, they normally chose to not wear eye makeup because... what was the point? Unless, of course, they knew they might need to take their shades off for someone they wanted to impress.

“I know right? It’s the first day I’ll be here, I’m sure many students and teachers will try to force me to take my sunglasses off.” Oh, thought Virgil, that’s why, I thought he just wanted to impress- “So when I inevitably have to take them off in front of Emile, he might not be too freaked out.” Virgil started to assure them that their eyes were nothing to be ashamed about, but he quickly registered the unknown name. 

“Emile? Who’s Emile?” 

Remy rolled their eyes like it was obvious. “The duke? I asked around with higher ranked nobility. Apparently he’s not very well known because he’s shy and doesn’t attend many events. And honestly, if all he had to hang out around was those stuffy nobles, I can’t blame him,” They finished with a shrug. Vigil laughed and agreed.

“I can’t argue with that, but Remy. Really, you don’t need to try and disguise your eyes. Do you really want to be with someone that would drop you for something as simple as that?” 

“No, but first impression are everything! Come on, hurry up! I’m starving and my duke awaits!” Virgil laughed again and followed him out the door to get ready.

————— 

Breakfast sped by quickly, with far too much food and people far too awake for 8:30 in the morning. Then they had classes in the “Palace of Perfection” - aka the Pompous Palace to Virgil and Logan, who dubbed it so last year because of the way most of the staff and students acted. Virgil and Remy waved goodbye to Logan as they made their way to the classroom for Barons.

There are 5 “levels” of nobility in the kingdom of Animiria. The highest is Royalty. Those born into the royal family are considered top tier. Kings, queens, princes, and dukes alike find themselves in superior ranking. Underneath them are the Marquis, then the Earls, then Viscounts, then Barons. All members of nobility are distinguished, but Barons are the most common. The Insomni line of nobility is one of the weakest, and furthest from the Royal family. Neither of the Insomni siblings had ever even been to the palace. They lived on a small estate, a few days travel from the capital city. Because of this, most other nobles never knew Virgil or Remy, and they were commonly isolated in what few noble gatherings they did attend, closer to home.

Ranking was everything, especially to the more old fashioned nobility. The recent king had been trying to fade this discriminating rule out, but to little avail. For example, Logan’s family, all Viscounts from the Moreno line, were particularly stiff on this rule. Logan could only have friends of his rank, or one below or above. Anyone lower is “not worth his time” and anyone higher is too important to be bothering with his presence. His family considered this rule incredibly generous and flexible. Logan didn’t seem to mind, as he tended to keep to himself.

Such rules were common among noble families. As such, classes were divided by ranking. In these classes, students learned knowledge appropriate for their ranking. Barons, being the lowest nobility (most of whom were estate holders), only got classes in manners, some ethics, and of economics. A lot of economics. Most of the morning was economics. Virgil was nearly asleep by lunch a few hours later.

Lunch came and went with little fuss. Remy complained about the monotone teacher - “Maybe I should hire him. He nearly put me to sleep, do you know how hard that is?” - and Logan simply read through a new book he had found in his free time at the large library in which the Viscount’s lessons took place.

Finally, it was time for the only fun part of camp - electives. Before camp starts, they send you a letter of invitation. You have to send them back a letter including what electives you’d like to be placed in. Virgil was in art, archery, and music. Art was first, and was usually filled with mostly female nobility. Last year, the only other male was a second year Marquis named Ethan. He had graduated, so Virgil was expecting to be the only man this year. Not that he had a problem with that, but he wasn’t excited about the teasing he would receive from the teacher.

However, these fears were wiped from his mind when he opened the door to find Prince Roman talking and laughing with the teacher in the proud, obviously fake way he’s been using with all of the nobility. Virgil quickly finds a seat toward the back of the room. Prince Roman moves to take a seat at the front as the teacher calls the class to attention.

“Good afternoon, class! Welcome to art. I’m Baroness Matilda, and I hope to have a great year! As you may have noticed, this year our roster includes our own Prince Roman.” Giggles flew around the room as the Prince in question turned around and smiled. Virgil just rolled his eyes. “He has asked that we as a class treat him as just another student, and I expect that of each of you.”

The Baroness moved to her desk to pick up a clipboard. “This is a class for all forms of art, but we will begin with traditional. You have been assigned a random partner for our first project. You must get together during free time and sketch each other by the weeks end. This is our first project, so it does not have to be perfect, however I expect more than just stick figures.” She made a pointed look around the class, then looked down at her clipboard.

“I have the list of partners here, I will post them on the board. Please come find your name and partner and get started.” She took a paper out of the clip and taped it to the chalkboard. Almost immediately it was crowded. Virgil slowly made his way up to the front, as to not have to wave through the crowd.

As the squeals of disappointment and excitement filled the room, Virgil found his name listed beside another of significantly more importance. And one that was likely to be a royal pain.

“You’re... Virgil, right?” A gravely voice said behind him. Virgil turned around to see the prince himself. “I’m-“

“Prince Roman.” Virgil finishes for him. The royal seemed taken aback.

“Have... have we met?”

“No, but they made sure your name was known last night.” Virgil answered dryly.

Roman smiled sheepishly. “Yes, I suppose the overdramatic entrance would have done that.” Virgil just shrugged. The prince took that as a cue to continue talking. “I’m excited to learn more about art. All forms of it really. I’ve dabbled in many, but I’m the best at writing. I’ll show you one of my works one day!”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “No offense your highness, but can we focus on the project?” He looked upset at the prospect, but nodded.

“Of course. But please, you don’t have to call me by my title, just call me Roman.” Virgil raised an eyebrow at that. Maybe Roman wouldn’t be like every other insufferable noble at this camp. He could hope. “Anyway, when can we meet up to work? I’ll only need an hour or so.”

“If you say so... Roman. It’ll only take me an hour as well, but it will only take me a few minutes to snap a reference photo so...” Roman flushed at that.

“Well I’m sorry, I’m not used to the combination of technology and art! Do you know how long it took me and my father to convince the royal advisors that cell phones weren’t evil?!”

Virgil scoffed. “Come on Princey, do you expect me to believe that you couldn’t just use them anyway?”

Roman made... some kind of offended noise (Virgil had never seen anything like it before, but he clutched his heart and made high pitched noises, he seemed offended), and responded, “I’ll have you know that it’s hard being a Prince!” Virgil raised an eyebrow. “No really! I have to constantly be perfection, and any mistake is amplified to the nation!”

Virgil chuckled. “Oh no, afraid your fan club will realize that you’re a human, not a perfect god?”

“Whatever, Emo Nightmare.” Roman huffed.

Virgil raised his eyebrow. “Emo Nightmare?”

“You called me Princey!” Roman accused. “I thought we were doing the nicknaming thing!”

“Ok, Romano”

“You cannot call me Romano.”

“I am so calling you Romano.”

Roman made his offended Princey noises once more. “Come on, I’d far prefer Princey.”

Virgil smirked. “Oh, and what are you going to do, issue a royal decree?”

“Yes!” A church bell rang in the distance, the signal for changing classes.

“You have fun with that.” Virgil picked up his things and started to leave the room. “Bye Romano!” He called as he passed the door.

“You’re insufferable!” He heard from the room as he laughed and walked out to the archery field.

—————

Virgil had already had a strange day. He had not expected to encounter the prince, much less poke fun at him. But what he saw at the field defied all known logic.

In the year he had known Logan, he had been predictable. His choice of friends followed his parents rules. He rarely smiled, even rarer did he laugh. If there was a book near, he was reading it. But this, Virgil could never see coming.

Logan was sitting on a bench, book closed on the bench next to him. And on the other side was the Royal Duke Patton, and Logan, laughing and smiling along to whatever he was saying. It was enough to stop Virgil in his tracks.

“I’ve only known him for like, a day, and I know this is weird.” Remy said as they walked up next to Virgil.

Virgil shook his head. “I’ve never seen him like this. I’ve heard Duke Patton was a personified ray of sunshine, but I never took them seriously. I guess he’s just like that?”

“He really is.” Virgil and Remy jumped as they noticed another had joined their party. “Hey,” said Duke Emile, as he walked up to the other side of Remy. “I’m Emile, he/him. Please don’t call me by title, I’m just a normal person.”

Virgil smiled at his meek introduction. “I’m Virgil, he/him. And this is my sibling Remy.” Virgil put his hand on their shoulder.

Remy had yet to reply, and was instead looking dumbstruck at the object of their affections. They seemed to finally pull themselves out of their reverie and flush red. “Remy, they/them. It’s... it’s nice to meet you.” In what seemed like a dash of courage, they took Emile’s hand in theirs and kissed the back of it.

He flushed and stammered, “It- it’s nice to see- I mean meet! You as well!” Virgil smiled and left the blushing idiots to themselves as he walked over to the pair on the bench.

“Logan, how many times do I have to tell you? Please don’t call me by my title, I’m just a normal person! I’m no greater than you, or Emile, or any other person on this planet.” The Duke Patton talked enthusiastically, waving his hands around to accentuate his words.

Logan frowned “I’m not sure what you mean, you are indeed ranked higher.” Patton threw his hands up in exasperation, just in time for Virgil to walk up behind him and get hit in the nose. The force knocked him back and onto the ground behind him.

“Oh my goodness gracious, are you okay? I’m so sorry!” Virgil looked up to see a duet of worried faces, both looking down at him. Logan seemed rather amused, despite the fact that his best friend was sprawled out on the ground. The other, who must have been Duke Patton, looked incredibly guilty. He had big, round eyes and he was offering his hand to help Virgil up.

Virgil just shook his head and laughed as he took Patton’s hand and lifted himself off of the ground. “I didn’t see you coming up behind me, I feel really bad, is there anything I can do?” Patton asked.

Virgil smirked. “You can tell me how you got Logan to laugh, I’ve known him for a year and only seen him genuinely laugh maybe once or twice.” Logan and Patton tinted pink and Patton laughed nervously as he tried to answer.

“Well, I guess I’m just a funny guy! Anyway, I haven’t introduced my self! I’m Patton! And please do-”

“Don’t use your title, you’re just a normal guy like everyone else.” Virgil interrupted. “I’ve heard the same thing twice today from your brother and cousin.”

Patton smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, we’re just tired of being held up on some pedestal.”

Virgil shook his head and chuckled. “It’s fine, I just find it funny that the three people at this camp that have the most power are functionally the most humble.”

“Trust me, it gets really annoying fast.”

Virgil hummed in agreement. “Anyway, when did you two meet?”

Logan finally decided to butt in. “We are both taking a class in astrology, and we ended up next to each other in the front of the classroom. We just started talking and our personalities compliment each other well.”

“Well that sure is a fancy way of putting it but yep! Anyway, I’m gonna go find our instructor. Class was supposed to start five minutes ago, the silly goober,” Patton smiled and waved goodbye. Virgil looked at Logan with an expectant expression resting on his face.

“If you’re hoping for more details, I’m afraid you’ll be sorely disappointed,” Logan shot him down quickly. Virgil laughed at the dry response.

“Just tell me one thing.” Logan just raised and eyebrow in invitation to continue. “Isn’t he of much higher rank? Wouldn’t your parents disapprove of you two being such casual friends?”

Logan sighed and ran his hand through his hair once. “My parent’s ideals are old fashioned. It’s not as if we are courting one another or betrothed, we are simply... friends. And what my parents don’t know won’t hurt them. Now if you will excuse me...” With that he walked off in the direction that Patton had left. Virgil just looked on with a shocked expression as Logan and Patton met up, and Patton gave Logan a hug. Albeit still and hesitant, it was a hug nonetheless. Logan, who had never touched Virgil for more than a handshake or a high-five, was hugging the royal duke.

“How much stranger can this day get?”

————— 

iknowthisissuperlatepleasedontkillme

At least it is nearly 3 times longer than usual? Does that start to make up for it?

Yeah no, but we can pretend. i did not think this chapter would be this long. I’m happy we get to start seeing some actual interaction between the ships this time!

Taglist: @monroig @anaussiefander @www-dot-ohshit-dot-com @treasureofpriam @ghosttb0y @mostpeopleannoyne @athenashipsthings @icequeenorginal @cas-is-a-hunter @justastressedprincess @rebeyerfdog @felicianoromano @roxiefox24 @laytonsartblog @bestbluebouquet@colorfulamo @alexanndrite

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angrylizardjacket · 4 years ago

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act your age: [5] Big Fun

Summary: Ash and Gizelle attend a house party for the cast and crew of the musical, and Gizelle makes some new friends while Ash walks into something unexpected.

Word Count: 2719 | [act your age masterpost]

the heathers: @brian-may-brian-may @marvelismylifffe @whoschantel @peteyparkersbabyy @cosmicsskies @somefanfic-to-love @happy-at-home @youngpastafanmug

The girl playing Heather Chandler's holding a house party the following weekend, partially as a bonding moment for the cast, but mostly because her parents are away for the weekend, and Gizelle spends a full hour finding the perfect outfit.

"You look stunning, Jellybean," her mother tells her, while Gizelle's nervously applying eyeliner in front of her mother's vanity, "just make sure to be home by ten -"

"Ten?" Gizelle splutters, eyes wide, accidentally extending her wing a little too far, "mom," she sighs, cleaning up the skewed makeup with a cotton bud, "it's a block away, and it's a Saturday."

"Eleven." Her mother concedes, and Gizelle caps her eyeliner, putting on her best puppy-dog eyes and batting her eyelashes, "midnight at the latest; I'll be waiting up for you." Her mother warns and Gizelle's lips stretch into a grin, giving a bright thanks and a promise to be home on time, before she turns back to the mirror to apply her lipgloss. With a faint and fond smile, her mother leaves her to her party preparations.

This week has been nervewracking, and she's looking forward to blowing off some steam. It seems like anyone who cares about the musical has an opinion on Gizelle being cast as the lead; of course most are more than supportive, however a few, acquaintances she had thought were better than this, feel as though they'd been snubbed. In particular, it seems the three Heathers themselves had all been hoping for Gizelle's role, and now, more than anything, they seem painfully in-character. But Gizelle was still going to the party as a show of good faith, everyone already kind of thought she was a snob, just because she was polite and well-dressed, she didn't want to give them anything to fuel that belief.

At least Lucy, the blonde girl in Year 11 who was cast as JD, seemed excited to work with her.

The house was only a block away; around the corner and across the road. Faint music could be heard even from Gizelle's house, and as she neared the corner, she can see colourful lights through the windows, and people milling about inside, indistinct shadows in a sea of rainbow. Just as Gizelle's crossing at the end of her street, however someone calls her name.

"Gizelle, right?" The girl Gizelle recognizes as Ash, from the auditions and from bursting in on her practicing, is stepping out of the house directly across from the party, wearing bright red, waist-high hot pants, with a patterned, collared shirt tucked into them, and a black denim jacket covered in patches that's far too big for her. Gizelle feels overdressed, but tries not to let it show; she nods amicably.

"And you're Ash."

"That I am," Ash agrees, grinning, hands in the pockets over her jacket. As she gets closer, Gizelle sees she's got the faintest bruising around her eye, mostly healed, but not covered despite the fact she's wearing a smattering of makeup herself, "you going to the party? I heard you scored the lead." Ash is grinning, tone supportive, but Gizelle's smile is thin-lipped.

"You and the rest of the school," Gizelle awkwardly waits for Ash to join her before they make their way across the street; despite Gizelle's less than positive demeanor, Ash persists.

"Well you totally deserve it, absolutely smashed it out of the park at callbacks," Ash is adamant, and Gizelle can't help but believe in her sincere tone. Ash hasn't been at the school long enough to form an opinion on Gizelle, that much is obvious, so when she talk to Gizelle, there's no history, no knowledge of Gizelle's family, that she has to look past. She sees Gizelle for who she is.

"You're too kind," Gizelle huffs a humble laugh, letting herself be genuine for a moment, "I saw you at the callbacks, but I didn't think you were part of the show."

"A friend of mine convinced me to help out with costumes," Ash admitted as they made their way to the house, "I think you know him; John Deacon?" Gizelle misses the sly, knowing smile Ash throws at her, trying to gauge her reaction to the name, and Gizelle's smile seemed to be the answer she was looking for.

"We work together," Gizelle nodded, still smiling a little. She knew John had agreed to do sound, he'd told her as much, but she never realised how many unexpected friends he had; first Roger, then a band, now this strange, Scottish Year 11, "has he said anything about me?" Gizelle asks, eyes going wide at the sudden realisation that if Ash knew she and John were friends, he'd probably been the one to tell her that. Finally looking at the ginger, Gizelle saw the Cheshire cat smile the girl wore at the question.

"He thinks very highly of you," is all she says, cryptically, before they're knocking on the front door. Gizelle is still trying to work out what she means when the door swings open, and Ben Hardy's answering the door, or more accurately, frowning at the lock and asking who had been the last one through. After a beat, he looks up and sees who it is, and grins brightly, gesturing the girls inside. There's two different songs playing, and Ben's quick to explain that the more hard-core musical theater kids were singing through the cast album for Heathers in the kitchen, and that Spotify's Top 50 was playing through the rest of the house's sound system.

"Do you live here?" Ash asks with only the slightest bit of confusion, and Ben snorts, shaking his head.

"Abby just has shit taste in music," he offers, and Gizelle grits her teeth at the mere mention of Abby Saunders, ex-best friend, now Heather Chandler. Why had she thought this would be a good idea? Ash and Gizelle steel themselves for the oncoming party as they follow Ben through the house to the kitchen, where Lucy was sitting on the counter, belting through a passable, if half-remembered rendition of Candy Store, while Joe, and a guy Ben identified as Rami, improvised choreography. The song came to an end, and Ben announced the girls' arrival, much to the delight of everyone else gathered.

"My girl!" Lucy announced, eyes bright as Fight For Me began, and Joe and Rami were going back and forth singing the 'holy shit' openings. Hopping off the counter, Lucy approaches Gizelle, wrapping her up in a hug, much to Gizelle's surprise. After a moment, however, Gizelle leaned into it, laughing a little, until Lucy pulled back, giving her a fond smile before she turned to the boys, "I told you, didn't I, I told them you'd get it -"

"No better choice," Rami nodded, breaking character, leaning his hip against the counter, a little breathless.

"'Zelle's scary talented," Joe agreed, taking a sip from his drink on the counter, his name written on the plastic cup in sharpie, "hey Ash, Roger's upstairs." And though he says it nonchalantly, Ash immediately turned as red as her hair. She tries to play it cool, rolls her eyes and tells him that she's not his handler, that she'll see him at some point, and Lucy elbows Joe in the ribs the moment Ash steps outside to get a drink of her own.

"You know they're not together, right?"

"Seriously?!" Joe's eyes go wide, watching where Ash had disappeared off to.

"Seriously," Lucy nods, crossing her arms, "half our art class is taking bets on when they'll finally get together though, and my week isn't for a while, so don't go about playing matchmaker," she admonishes, while Gizelle takes in the situation, bemused.

"Also because you're bad at it," Rami adds, to which Joe frowns.

"I got you two together didn't I?"

"He tried to parent-trap us into a relationship during last-year's musical," Lucy explained to Gizelle, wearing an exasperated half-smile.

"I think I remember that," Gizelle muses; it had been the talk of the school for about two weeks, and Joe had proudly taken credit for it to anyone who would listen.

"We'd been dating for a full year at that point, Rami just transferred to the school," Lucy laughed, sitting back up on the counter when Rami made space for her, the pair of them leaning into one another. After a beat of silence, Ben frowned, gaze drifting to the ceiling.

"I thought Roger was up there with Dominique."

Joe choked on his drink and Lucy made a disapproving noise under her breath, but no-one really had much else to say on the matter since Ash and Roger weren't technically together.

The night continues on apace, with Joe, Rami, and Lucy seeing fit to take Gizelle in as one of their own, the four of them quarantining themselves to the kitchen, appointing themselves guardians of the punch bowl. They don't seem to care that Gizelle's Gizelle, they laugh honestly at her jokes, she and Rami teach Joe and Ben how to Cha Cha, and they all seem impressed by how well Gizelle knows various musicals, rather than just rolling their eyes and muttering something about her dad. They make her feel welcome like she hasn't in a long time.

At about nine, Joe cries out 'It's the maestro!' And their whole group turns to see John Deacon atanding awkwardly in the doorway to the kitchen like a deer in the headlights. As soon as he sees Gizelle, however, their eyes lock and immediately he seems to relax. Gizelle smiles and he smiles back.

John's wearing all blue, denim jacket and jeans and a surprisingly well fitted blue t-shirt and Gizelle realises far too late that she's checking him out. But he didn't seem to notice. Thank god.

"Look at you, Monochrome Man," Joe grins with his own appreciation, beckoning John forward into the kitchen and into their group.

"How are you pulling that off?" Rami asks with an incredulous smile.

"So eighties, I love it," Lucy agreed, all three of them seemingly not noticing the steadily rising blush on the painfully introverted John Deacon's cheeks. After a moment, John looks to Gizelle, who'd been silently appreciating his outfit, looking to her for approval, not that he'd ever admit that, though Gizelle is more than happy to provide.

"Only you could look hot in double denim, Johnny."

And she realises a moment too late the exact words that had left her mouth, but it doesn't matter; John's smile is blinding. He's quiet, but is more than happy taking the place Gizelle offers by her side, and the other three are more than happy to welcome him too. Joe vouches for him, announcing that Joe's the coolest Year 9 - 'No offence, 'Zelle.' - he's ever met. The kid's in a band for Christ sake!

This is about the time that Ash, red faced and chanting swear words under her breath, blows past all of them having just come from upstairs. They hadn't even see her head up there in the first place. The whole group goes silent, watching as she heads out the door, and bolts across the road, just as Roger, disheveled and trying to do up his pants, stumbles downstairs, also swearing.

"Ash?" He asks the now silent, wide-eyed group. They're quiet. "Where did she go?"

"What just happened?" Joe's the first to ask, trying desperately to hide his amusement. Roger's expression sours.

"None of your bloody business!"

"Roger, what the fuck?" And that's Dominique's voice from the top of the stairs, and Rami coughs to hide his laughter. Roger swears, but Gizelle points to the front door and he takes off, while Dominique calls him an asshole.

"I think she found Roger," Gizelle finally breaks the silence, and the tension, and Rami, Lucy, and Joe all fall into rapturous laughter, while John, bemused and concerned, not having heard their earlier conversation, just asks what happened. As they explain, however, John's expression falls.

Before he can comment, however, Ash storms back into the house, a can of beer in either hand, trying to contain her anger, followed by Roger.

"I said its fucking fine, Roger," Ash snapped, finally stopping in the kitchen and slamming her drinks on the counter beside Lucy, cracking one open with vigor.

"Yeah, clearly," Roger snapped, gesturing to where she was now shotgunning the beer with a scowl, "I said I was sorry." He waits for Ash to finish, and she burps loudly, already cracking the second beer.

"You have nothing to apologise for," she glowers, her tone at odds with her words, "I just came to tell you that Freddie and Oz are studying at my place, and Freds is happy to take you home later, I just didn't expect -" Ash is working up to a shout, second beer in hand.

"Ash -!" Roger tries to cut her off with a shout, but her voice rises further.

"- you to be knuckle fucking deep in Dominique Bertrand in Abby's parents' fucking bed!" And then she's drinking the second beer while the rest of the room looks at her in stunned silence. This is possibly the moat embarrassed John's ever seen Roger.

"How are you so good at that?" Joe asks finally, watching Ash drink the second beer without gagging. Ash's nose scrunches up as she drinks, and the rest wait and watch. Roger sinks to the ground, head in his hands. Once she finishes, Ash crumples up the beer can in one hand and tosses it into the trash.

"Practice, don't tell my brother," Ash deadpans, and casts a withering look to Roger, "I'm going home. Text Fred when you wanna leave." And with that, she storms off.

"She came back here just to flex on us by drinking beer, and tearing Roger to shreds," Joe marveled, "I think I'm in love."

"She's never going to speak to me again," Roger groans, head in his hands where he's sitting on the kitchen floor.

"What were you thinking?" John asked softly, genuinely concerned, coming to squat down beside Roger.

"I don't fucking know," Roger admitted, "Dom just said some stuff to me, and... I don't know, I didn't realise... I didn't think about Ash, I just... She's never going to speak me again."

"You're an idiot," Gizelle's voice is soft, but her tone isn't mean.

"He's just oblivious," Rami mused, and Roger looked up with a frown. After a beat, Lucy sighed dramatically.

"If you're this cut up about her not talking to you again," she prompted, "maybe it means..." She tried to get him to clue in, but he just frowned harder.

"Rog," John said gently, "she has feelings for you too."

And it finally clicked.

"Ash? No way," Roger was steadily turning redder, "I - I don't -"

"I'm not an idiot, Rog," John tells him, and Roger's expression scrunches up.

"You want to kiss her~" Joe cooed, and Roger almost threw his shoe at him, hollering for him to shut up. "No way, dude, every person here knows you two have a thing for each other;" Joe snorted, "if you're too thick to see it, that's on you."

"He's going to kill you during this production," Lucy mutters, but Joe just rolled his eyes at her.

"If you have feelings for her, you have to tell her," Gizelle told him sincerely, "because she might still be your friend after all this, but if you don't tell her you like her tonight, there's no way she'd ever let herself continue to crush on you."

"She's right," Rami nodded sagely. Roger actually considered Gizelle's words for a moment before getting to his feet.

"Fuck you guys," he huffed, but followed after Ash nonetheless.

"Someone should tell Dominique he's not coming back," Lucy mused with a half-smile, only to see Dominique herself appear, newly freshened up and pissed.

"I think she knows," John mused with the slightest smile. After a moment, he carefully drapes his arm across Gizelle's shoulder, bumping her hip with his. "Rog is so dense sometimes." Gizelle can feel every point of contact between them, and tries to act casual when she relaxes into him. The other three share a very knowing look.

"Yeah," Joe agrees, hiding his smile behind the lip of his cup, "he's the dense one."

#bohemian rhapsody #borhap #roger taylor #queen #the angry lizard writes #giselle x john #john deacon #john richard deacon #roger taylor imagine #john deacon imagine #act your age #heathers #heathers related #heathersrelated

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nephilimsarchive · 5 years ago

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A little help | Arthur Fleck x reader imagine

Summary: Gotham seems a little less grey as someone finally cares for him. Or: A stranger helps Arthur after he gets beaten up. He loses his sign but gains what he hopes could blossom into more than friendship.

Note: basically just someone finally being nice to Arthur, a little fluff

Warnings: none??? Some swearing, unspecified age gap, crappy ending

Word count: 2301

Hearing the door shut behind you you made your way down Gothams main street, relieved that your shift was over. You worked at a local restaurant, and while serving meals wasn’t quite your passion, the occasional tips you got im your tight fitting shirt made for a rather alright pay. Nonetheless, you surely weren’t anywhere near wealthy, not that you cared much. The only thing that bothered you was that you rarely had the time - and sometimes the money - to paint anymore. With your job and small apartment, which’s properties really didn’t deserve the rent you had to pay for it, your childhood dream of earning money with art remained what it was - a dream.

Yet you couldn’t quite stop yourself from hoping sometimes, and so you found yourself wandering the busy streets. Looking for anything to inspire you, taking longer than necessary to get home. You longed to see greenery between the skyscrapers and taxis, individuality between the anonymous faces passing you by, kindness between the insensivity of this gloomy town. And that’s when something on the other side of the road caught your eye. The vibrant colours of his costume in contrast with the grey concrete surrounding him. Cheerful music was playing. Most people didn’t even glance at him as he they were passing him by. Hell, you found most clowns rather frightening. But there was something about him, his grin or his dancing, the way he swung the sign that made you stare. Maybe you just couldn’t phantom how somebody, no, anybody could seem so …happy, doing what he does. Then again it was his job, and people here have no choice than to work hard to get by.

Your train of thoughts was interrupted as the subject of your focus scrambled to his feet after a hoard of teenage boys had stolen his sign. Picking up a faster pace you kept an eye on the scene that unfolded in front of your eyes, the boys suddenly crossing the street, not even paying attention to the cars that honked. My god, getting past the mass of people in front of you was bad enough as it was, you couldn’t even imagine running in full costume. Poor guy. You stopped in your tracks and gasped as one of the cars almost hit him, but he ran on as if nothing happened. And just like that, he suddenly was out of your vision. You started running, excusing yourself as you pushed past people, yet he was nowhere to be seen. Slowing your pace you tried to catch your breath, when muffled sounds caught your attention. You turned the next corner, your mouth agape in shock. Five boys were kicking the man that already lay on the ground, his sign in pieces next to him. Not being able to stop your instincts from kicking in you screamed „Hey!“, they turned towards you, „Get off him you fucking bastards!“ you growled, at which the guys merely chuckled, but ran away anyway. Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. Your mind raced as you sprinted towards the man and tried to assess the situation. He was on his side, ragged breaths jolting through him, shuddering. You crouched down next to him, but he barely noticed you at first, his hand trying to reach for the bits and pieces of the sign he had been holding. „That should be the least of your worries.“, you then said, giving him a sympathetic smile. „Can you stand?“, you asked, but all the answer you got was a quizzical look. It was as if he’s aware that there’s nobody else you could possibly be talking to, but still he didn’t believe you meant him. Then again you weren’t even sure he fully heard or understood you. Gently, as to not make more damage you took one of his hands into yours. „You can’t stay like this, we’ve got to get your injuries checked. I’m going to try and help you up now, okay?“ His eyebrows scrunched together as he stared at your intertwining hands. He weakly nodded. Slowly he sat up, then got to his feet, clutching his ribs as you tried to support his walking as much as you could. You would’ve headed to the hospital immediately, but in this state he could barely stand upright, and you didn’t own a car. So you just walked to your apartment, which was only a few blocks away.

Usually you wouldn’t take a stranger to your flat, but he seemed so helpless and lonely - it felt right to keep an eye on him, at least for a bit. You tried to make conversation on the way, asking him about his name, but he never answered. His head swayed while walking, and you didn’t know if he listened, but you continued talking to him anyway. If you were in his shoes you would’ve liked someone to distract you from the pain. And that is precisely how he felt. Little did you know that of course Arthur listened to your every word. His eyes flickered to how you held him, then to your face every now and then. From the moment you crouched down next to him he could’ve sworn that you’re an actual angel. Your voice became his mantra as you told him you’re sorry for what happened to him, that he didn’t deserve it. He didn’t answer because he simply didn’t know what to say. After all this time, how could it be that someone as kind, selfless and absolutely beautiful offered him help?

As you reached your flat and finally made it to your bed you sat him down. He looked around in confusion as you returned with your first aid kit, some cloths and frozen vegetables he could use to cool his side. Making a mental note to buy some new vegetables later you sat next to him. Carefully you rinsed the blood off his swollen lower lip, washing off the remains of his makeup, him being silent all along. He couldn’t help the way his eyes wandered over you, your (e/c) eyes, long wavy hair reaching just beneath your shoulders and then your lips. And how they were parted ever so slightly as you concentrated. Truly, he felt terrible for what he was thinking. He knew you were just being nice, but your proximity and the way your gentle hands touched his face didn’t help his case as he shifted his gaze just a little lower, getting a good look at your slender neck and even your cleavage. Your skin looked so soft. Fucking hell, you were simply breathtaking. His eyes fluttered close as he shifted a little. He was fully aware he barely knew you, you probably had a boyfriend, and you definitely definitely were what they call out of his league. You must’ve been at least five years younger than him, too. He felt rumbles of laughter bubbling in his throat He felt rumbles of laughter bubbling in his throat after you got up, fetching a glass of water and a pain med. you returned, and that’s when the laughter broke out, the irony of the situation painful. Now you must think he’s a total nutcase. Instead, you just sat next to him again, an amused but quizzical look on you face. He struggled to hand you a card that explained his condition, and you patiently waited for him to calm down again. His laughter broke out then. Great, now you must think he’s totally insane. Instead, you just sat down next to him again, an amused and quizzical expression on your face. He struggled to hand you the card that explained his condition. You were patiently waiting for him to calm down. „Well, I think your laugh’s lovely. Well, I think your laugh is quite lovely.”, you told him, trying to cheer him up, “Drink something.”, handing him the glass heis cheeks burned as did as you said, not so successfully hiding his burning cheeks as he sighed lightly when the cold glass touched the wound on his lip. Looking him over, you frowned slightly. Shuffling through your drawer you got out an oversized shirt and jogging pants. “If you’d like to change, the bathroom is right next door.” You placed the clothes next to him and turned to leave as a hoarse voice stopped you in your tracks. “Y.. Y/N..?” Ah! So he had listened. “Why are you helping me?”, he asked in a quiet tone, “You don’t even know my name.” Turning around you took a few steps closer to him again. “Then tell me.”, you returned, smiling. He looked as his feet then “Arthur, …my name is Arthur.” “Well then, Arthur, I’m helping you because because I want to. Nobody deserves what happened to you today. Nobody deserves what they did to you. Now, make yourself at home. Try to get some rest.”, you brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. He wouldn’t even have had a second thought about it, they were just kids. But you seriously meant what you said. As the rest of your words sank in he tried to protest, saying he couldn’t possibly sleep in your bed. Shaking your head lightly, you chose to make your way to the door. “If there’s anything else you need, feel free to ask.”

~~~

The next morning you were woken up by a noise you couldn’t recognise. It hadn’t taken you much time to fall asleep on your sofa the day before. It actually was a lot more comfortable than you had thought, or perhaps it was the exhaustion of you work shift followed by half-carrying Arthur here. Thinking of which, you turned to face the rest of the living room and got up. To your surprise, you saw movement through the glass of your kitchen door. The smell of scrambled eggs filled your nose as you entered, at once figuring out that the noises you heard must’ve been Arthur putting out dishes onto the small table. He had done his best trying to be quite, sneaking out of you bedroom past your sleeping form he had noted you looked wonderfully peaceful when asleep, then to the kitchen. Now there were toasts, some cut up apples and slightly burned scrambled eggs layed out on the kitchen table. It wasn’t a buffet per se, but more than enough to have your facial expression turn to one of surprise, happiness and then disbelief. As you shook your head lightly, brushing a hand through your disheveled hair Arthur suddenly seemed nervous „Oh, I‘m.. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to rummage through your belongings, I should’ve known that’s not what you do.“, you couldn’t help but look at him in shock then, how could he think your mad? He avoided your stare. „I‘ll clean everything up.“, he grabbed the handle of the pan as your hand over his stopped him. He looked up into your eyes, while his mirrored uncertainty and something you couldn’t quite pinpoint. „Arthur, my God.“, you breathed out, cradling his hand in both of yours, “The only reason I shook my head was that I cannot believe how you can stand here at 8 in the morning after the night you had, and all you worry about is making breakfast. You don’t have to apologise, and you certainly don’t have to clean up either. I can’t even remember the last time somebody went through such an effort for me. So thank you.“ You let go off his hand as he blushed profusely at your words. He stumbled over his words then, saying it’s the least he could do. Or that at least he tried, glancing at the pan in embarrassment.

The two of you ate in silence for a short while, Arthus studying your expression as you took bites. He paid attention to the rest of your apartment then, it was rather small but the way you had little pictures, plants and other adornments everywhere made it feel very cozy. It fit the impression you made, you seemed like such a positive and kindhearted person, always trying to make the best out of everything. You were sitting across him wearing a tank top, short pants and a robe over it and you looked absolutely adorable, Arthur thought. He could only wish this wasn’t the last time he got to spend time with you. You noticed the way he had been staring, hiding your reddened cheeks behind your hair. Your voice interrupted his train of thoughts “Are you going to get your injuries checked, Arthur?” Truth be told, he didn’t plan on going to any hospital. He hated burdening people with his issues, and he didn’t quite have the money to pay for any treatment -if needed- either. But you the way you looked at him made him question his attitude; your eyes were full of hope, begging him to go. As if you actually cared for his well-being. Apparently, his lack of response answered your question, as you continued: “You are aware that if you don’t get yourself checked, I’ll have to make you come back here weekly from now on to make sure you’re doing okay?” Your light tone made a weight fall if his shoulders as you let out a breathless laugh. For some reason you hoped that he’d actually accept your proposal, even though it came out more jokingly than anything. He seemed so pure and kind to you that you wondered what made him as insecure. Whatever it is, you wanted to show him that he doesn’t need to be. You wanted to be there for him, you realised. Arthur smiled at you then, a genuine smile for once “I wouldn’t mind that one bit.”

#arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck imagine #joker imagine #joker x reader #joker #what a qt #joaquin phoenix #fanfic #gotham

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simping-on-the-daily · 4 years ago

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It would be unfair to do just Chelsea for these. ;p Here’s Aisha!

Credit to @luxet for her questions!

Spotify, SoundCloud, or Pandora? “SoundCloud. I just have a more easier time with it.” is your room messy or clean? “My bedroom is clean, as well as my room located in the corner of Thomas’ mind.” what color are your eyes? “I have blue eyes with slit pupils.” do you like your name? why? “I think Aisha is a suitable name.” what is your relationship status? “Taken.” describe your personality in 3 words or less “Analytical, Sharp, Rational.” what color hair do you have? “My hair’s an indigo leaning towards purple.” what kind of car do you drive? color? “I don’t drive, but a blue Sedan would be nice.” where do you shop? “You can’t really shop in the Mind Palace, but I like the bookstores.” how would you describe your style? “Smart Casual.” favorite social media account “Reddit and Wattpad both have....interesting things, but they are still my favorites.” what size bed do you have? “I have a Full XL.” any siblings? “I do not have any siblings.” if you can live anywhere in the world where would it be? why? “I think I live in the best place already.” favorite snapchat filter? “The face swap filter is both a blessing and a curse.” favorite makeup brand(s) “L’Oréal.” how many times a week do you shower? “One in the morning and one before I go to bed.” favorite tv show? “I have a guilty pleasure of Netflix original shows.” shoe size? “My foot size is around the 10s, I think.” how tall are you? “6′0.” sandals or sneakers? “Sneakers don’t make an annoying slapping sound when they hit the ground, so them.” do you go to the gym? “No, I do not.” describe your dream date “Some people think that stargazing is my dream date, but Logan just got me into that. I truthfully prefer cafes, but as long as we are content doing the activity together, that’s the only thing that matters.” how much money do you have in your wallet at the moment? “Right now, I have $80.” what color socks are you wearing? “I’m wearing white socks at the moment. Weird question.” how many pillows do you sleep with? “One.” do you have a job? what do you do? “No, I do not.” how many friends do you have? “All of the Sides are understandably good friends of mine.” whats the worst thing you have ever done? “I’d prefer to talk about the situation when I’m ready.” whats your favorite candle scent? “I don’t like candle scents.” 3 favorite boy names “I have an interest in Gabriel, Noah and Charles.” 3 favorite girl names “Minerva, Athena and Anne are some of my favorite's.” favorite actor? “I hate to be biased, but Thomas Sanders does a great job at acting.” favorite actress? “Jennifer Lawrence’s work is truly admirable.” who is your celebrity crush? “Mark Ruffalo may be known for giving out spoilers, but he does terrific performances.” favorite movie? “Same answer as below.” do you read a lot? whats your favorite book? “..........Why are you making me choose?” money or brains? “Brains.” do you have a nickname? what is it? “Who doesn’t have a nickname, honestly? Roman has plenty of them for me.” how many times have you been to the hospital? “None. We all have a sort of healing factor, and I am responsible enough to avoid any accidents.” top 10 favorite songs “I believe some of them were also mentioned in one of my bios.” do you take any medications daily? “No, I do not.” what is your skin type? (oily, dry, etc) “I have a normal skin type.” what is your biggest fear? “Needles.” how many kids do you want? “Can we even have children?” whats your go to hair style? “My hair always stays the same: some messy and unbrushed indigo hair leaning into the colour purple. The courtroom scenario was one of the few occasions my hair became more neater.” what type of house do you live in? (big, small, etc) “Currently, we’re in a beach house. It was Chelsea’s idea, as we create new houses. The Mind Palace is endless.” who is your role model? “I must give teachers their credit for being able to put up with their student’s rowdy behavior.” what was the last compliment you received? “You must hear really well with those pointy ears. Not sure if it’s a compliment or an insult.” what was the last text you sent? “I sent Logan a link to a site explaining the definition of some modern slang.” how old were you when you found out santa wasn’t real? “It was around my fourth.” what is your dream car? “A Sedan is good enough for me.” opinion on smoking? “My opinion on this? You’re not alone. I can’t stop you from smoking, but please make sure that it’s out of personal interest and not a form of endangering yourself.” do you go to college? “If Thomas went to college, then yes, I technically did. If he didn’t, then I didn’t.” what is your dream job? “I don’t really need a job.” would you rather live in rural areas or the suburbs? “The suburbs are much more safer.” do you take shampoo and conditioner bottles from hotels? “No. I have no benefit in taking hotel property.” do you have freckles? “No, I do not freckles. However, Logan does. He just covers them up.” do you smile for pictures? “It depends on the picture we’re talking about.” how many pictures do you have on your phone? “We don’t have a storage limit, and right now I have around 400 in my gallery.” have you ever peed in the woods? “You’re assuming that I go in the woods.” do you still watch cartoons? “Cartoons are still shows, regardless of the artistic style. Yes, I do.” do you prefer chicken nuggets from Wendy’s or McDonalds? “Wendy’s.” Favorite dipping sauce? “My favourite is Honey Mustard.” what do you wear to bed? “I wear a lot of dressing gowns.” have you ever won a spelling bee? “When your opponent is Patton, you’re bound to be victorious.” what are your hobbies? “I believe they’re listed in a bio already posted.” can you draw? “Yes, but I’m better art digital art then traditional.” do you play an instrument? “Nope. But since it doesn’t impact my daily life, it doesn’t bother me.” what was the last concert you saw? “It depends on the last concert Thomas went to.” tea or coffee? “Tea. It’s much more relaxing and is less bitter then coffee.” Starbucks or Dunkin Donuts? “Starbucks has a lot more variety in their food choices.” do you want to get married? “I’m not a fan of weddings. It reinforces the fact that you need a giant celebration to prove your love instead of acts of trust and loyalty. Maybe that’s why I chose the callback instead.....” what is your crush’s first and last initial? “L.S. Logan Sanders.” are you going to change your last name when you get married? “Perhaps.” what color looks best on you? “Indigo and black are my more iconic colours, but I do appreciate some purple in my attire once in a while.” do you miss anyone right now? “Not as this particular time, no.” do you sleep with your door open or closed? “The door is closed, but not locked.” do you believe in ghosts? “In the Mind Palace, anything can happen. Ghosts are childsplay compared to the other supernatural creatures in here.” what is your biggest pet peeve? ”Clicking pens, unnecessarily revving your engines, waking you up in the middle of the night and then saying ‘oh did I wake you up?’ as well as bashing a book or film when you haven’t seen it.” last person you called ”I had to call Remus. I can’t remember the details, but it involved something with pencil cases.” favorite ice cream flavor? “Buttermilk and black sesame ginger are delicious and underrated.” regular oreos or golden oreos? “I prefer the regular Oreos.” chocolate or rainbow sprinkles? “I don’t enjoy sprinkles a whole lot. I prefer to cover my desserts with chocolate syrup.” what shirt are you wearing? “I’m currently wearing an off the shoulder top, coloured a dark navy blue with star patterns.” what is your phone background? “The night sky. It’s aesthetically pleasing.” are you outgoing or shy? “I would prefer to call myself an ambivert.” do you like it when people play with your hair? “Playing with my hair? That’s fine.” But don’t try to get rid of the knots or try and brush it.” do you like your neighbors? “The Dark Sides live right next to us in their house, and I have a neutral opinion about the lot of them. Remus is okay, though. I’m not a fan of Deceit.” do you wash your face? at night? in the morning? “I wash my face after brushing my teeth.” have you ever been high? “I know that if I answer this question, the readers will probably warp it into some form of suggestive content.” have you ever been drunk? “I’m not sure if we can get drunk? I might have to ask Logan that later.” last thing you ate? “My last meal was some noodles and meatballs.” favorite lyrics right now “The following lyrics are from the song Just The Way You Are by Bruno Mars.” When I see your face There's not a thing that I would change 'Cause you're amazing Just the way you are summer or winter? “Winter. The cold air gives more chances for indoor activities as well as a nice aesthetic.” day or night? “The night is much calmer, so I’ll prefer that.” dark, milk, or white chocolate? “Dark chocolate. I believe that the bitter taste makes it good.” favorite month? “July, I’m not sure why, but I get some happy during the seventh month.” what is your zodiac sign ”While I wasn’t ‘born’, per say, my creation was during the constellation of Capricorn, so I’ll go with that.” who was the last person you cried in front of? “It was a pretty long time ago, but I think it was Deceit. Back when we were kids.”

#sander sides #sanders sides #fander sides #sander sides ocs #sanders sides ocs #fander sides ocs #sander sides aisha #ocs #oc questions #luxet questions

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thisselflovecamebacktome · 4 years ago

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My personal connection with Taylor’s discography, part five: Marjorie

Basically this is just a series I’m doing where I write down my feelings on what each of the Taylor songs means to me personally on a line to line basis both for my own sake to have it somewhere and for anyone who wants to know anything further about me. So with that in mind, let’s get started.

Marjorie

This song is a little weird for me because as a whole, it’s about losing the almost romanticised view I had of my family. Like most of the people I think of when it comes to this song are still very much alive, but our relationship reached a point where I will never speak to them again. But despite our relationship being like that now, much like most kids, I grew up thinking these people were near perfect and those memories don’t go away just because I’m not on good terms with them now. Because of that, this song has been a very bittersweet song for me and one of the harder Taylor songs to listen to.

Never be so kind, you forget to be clever

When I was younger, I was one of those kids who never wanted to see anyone hurt and would give up if it meant someone else was happy. And that cost me a lot of opportunities. And a remember each time I’d do it, my mother and paternal grandparents would sit me down and remind me that I am a female and that the world is harsh and doesn’t give us as a gender many chances, so I shouldn’t be throwing away chances like that, especially to people who were more likely to achieve those goals through different means. I particularly remember having one of these talks in the third grade when I asked the teacher to allow my competitor in a maths competition to have a second try when he got an answer wrong only for him to quickly declare victory when I messed up a question later. Let it be known that I will never again forget that 7x8 is 56 and that even if I still have issues with it, I do not need to make things harder for myself by giving a leg up to people who would keep me down given the chance.

Never be so clever, you forget to be kind

As much as I tried to be nice as a kid, I definitely grew up with some privileges and a bit of a god complex when it came to my academic skill. Cringily, up until like 9th grade I was that kid that gloated about their grades and was like “well if you just tried harder, you’d get these grades too!”. I was particularly like this with my sister given my parents spent our childhood pinning us against each other and that was the only “win” I could take, especially in terms of my mother. Except it really wasn’t because my mother was also someone who hated school and didn’t do well through no fault of her own. As a result, “You’re smart Jessica, but there’s always going to be someone smarter and nobody is going to care how good you are if you can’t be nice” was a common phrase I heard as a kid. Whether or not it’s true is yet to be seen given some of the biggest names in the world are assholes, but I’ve definitely come to a place where kindness will always outclass cleverness in my life.

And if I didn't know better, I'd think you were talking to me now

When I have a hard decision to make or I feel like I’m making the wrong choice, I still imagine these idealised versions of my family were still in my life and talk myself into what I think is the next right move. Is talking to yourself still counted as being crazy? Perhaps, but it works and is weirdly comforting given everything that’s happened.

If I didn't know better, I'd think you were still around. What died didn't stay dead. You're alive, you're alive in my head, so alive

Despite everything that happened, my anger towards it, and the way I’ve tried to put it out of mine, I still look back fondly on these memories with these people before they showed who they actually were.

Never be so polite, you forget your power

Like I said, as a kid I hated inconveniencing anyone. This meant I ate a bunch of food I hated, did activities I didn’t want to and even went out while sick because I didn’t want to ruin the day for anyone else. In particular, I remember getting a big stomach ache while on holiday at my paternal grandparents’ house but still trying to get ready and go out to the beach for the day. When he immediately realised something was wrong was told that I hadn’t said anything because I didn’t want to ruin the day, he sat me down and reminded me that it was my holiday too and that was my body so I could and should take control of that and say no sometimes, even if it is just because I don’t want to do something.

Never wield such power, you forget to be polite

For all their flaws, my mother’s side of the family did teach one one thing. I came from nothing, and even if someday I broke the poverty cycle, I was not above anyone else. A lot of conversations with that side of the family was about how oftentimes it was “higher class” people who refused to tip or use manners and felt above it all. Also, when I was a smartass about my grades and jobs I wanted to get, I was reminded that even if I had the best paying job in the world, I would still need the “lesser” workers in order for my life to run smoothly. While the words “class struggle” never came into play, these conversations very much helped to form a lot of my beliefs and remind me to stay humble.

And if I didn't know better, I'd think you were listening to me now

When someone dies, a lot of people believe they send signs from beyond the grave. Sometimes these happen in the form of seeing associated animals on a bad day, sometimes it’s a random thing coming to you and pushing in a certain direction when needing to make a choice. And there are days when it feels the same with my family even though most of them are still alive.

But most of all, I think about this line in reference to my uncle who passed when I was 12 who always had mine and my mother’s backs. I remember driving home from my partner’s place during a depressive episode a few years back thinking about how my grandparents live in the same suburb and considering dropping past even though I had cut them off years before to have not only roadworks happen to be happening in a way to make me go past their street, but also their light being off implying they weren’t there. And despite not being a spiritual/religious person anymore, something about that felt very much like my uncle had heard me and was making it clear that his parents were out living their lives and I was making the right choice by doing the same.

The autumn chill that wakes me up. You loved the amber skies so much. Long limbs and frozen swims. You'd always go past where our feet could touch

This line screams my sister to me. The best thing about my sister and the thing that I will spend forever missing is how she got so excited about the little things in life. Doing her makeup or wearing nice clothes was exciting, listening to music was exciting, getting up early on special days to open gifts was exciting, hell even going to a concert for an artist she hated was exciting for her. She was also the biggest risk taker of the family. And given her auburn hair, the autumn/amber visuals just caps the whole thing off.

And I complained the whole way there; the car ride back and up the stairs

I was a whiny and impatient kid (who somehow turned into a more impatient adult, yikes). Looking back, I spent so many occasions with my family whining about little things or asking how long it’s going to take instead of just enjoying the moment. And ultimately, I think that’s one of my biggest regrets in life so far.

I should've asked you questions. I should've asked you how to be, asked you to write it down for me

Like most people, I really underestimated how much time I was going to have with my family and I took for granted the notion that there was always going to be a time that they’d be around to help and get advice from. So I never asked. And now I’m here, 25 and feeling incredibly unequipped for handling the world around me like I should and wishing I had taken those opportunities to ask for more advice. Likewise, while people make jokes that white people have no culture, I genuinely really feel like I don’t (and as a result struggle with my place in the world) because I didn’t bother asking about our history or the family members I never met or any of that and don’t have anything in my possession to give me that information.

Should've kept every grocery store receipt 'cause every scrap of you would be taken from me

Kinda continuing from above, I hated taking photos and really didn’t keep much that my family gave me growing up. Like realistically when it comes to the extended family, I have a few really low quality photos, a piece of art my paternal grandfather gave me before moving to the UK because I loved it as a kid and my memories. And even with my sister and father, I have a single box of things my sister left behind and one Taylor Swift fan book and a necklace my father gave me. That’s it.

I don’t have any family heirlooms, I don’t even think I have one picture of me with most the members of the family and I don’t even have the loving perception of them because that was taken from me in the fallout of the family. And despite everything that happened, that upsets me whenever I think about it.

Watched as you signed your name Marjorie. All your closets of backlogged dreams and how you left them all to me

To be honest, this line just reminds me of the women in my family and how much they sacrificed in order for me to get where I am today. Like both my grandmothers never finished school (with my maternal grandmother being unable to read) in order to get jobs to look after their families after both fathers abandoned them before marrying into abusive relationships. My mother quit her higher paying job to raise me and my siblings full time because my father had epilepsy and couldn’t. And my mother started working again in my teens in the form of cleaning the dirtiest of houses so I could go to Japan which was one of the happiest memories of my life. She also mentioned she wished I could have been a performer because she had always wanted to be. None of these women got to experience their dreams or even the lives they should have had all to make sure I had the best chance of living mine and again, no matter what happens, that will always be something I remember.

And if I didn't know better, I'd think you were singing to me now

Again, this line just screams my sister. Any time I hear one of her old favourite songs or a top ten hit I think she’d like, especially if it comes on shuffle or out in public, I think of her.

I know better, but I still feel you all around. I know better, but you're still around

Obviously I know these people are not talking to me. They’ve moved on with their lives and outside the moments where they feel the need to try PR the situation to keep me quiet, I imagine they don’t really think of me at all. Additionally, it’s hard to say that the idealistic versions of them I created in my head even existed to be around in the first place. And yet, I still feel their influence on me in my day to day life.

#taylor swift #marjorie #evermore album #about me

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