#my casual speaking is so wildly different from how I write it's funny

[zacala]

saw someone praise someone else for correctly using ; and I got angry because I use that a lot in writing but not in casual conversation. that should've been me I'm so mad

[dreaming-marchling]

With all the POVs in all the fandoms you’ve done including the latest in marked in faith which character has been the hardest to write for or get in their mind? Conversely what character has been the easiest to slide into.

Also, how do you maintain those character separations and characterization so well in the stories especially when there’s a large cast like sometimes in the market in trust series?

When I DM in DnD I have a very hard time keeping NPCs apart before they blend in as a mesh of one character archetype.

This is such a fun question! I live for nitty-gritty writing stuff like this :)

I suppose the characters who are hardest are the ones I've avoided , for instance I'm writing a Malec story where Izzy gets her (I believe) first POV from me and I'm having a hard time finding her voice. The plot means she’s in a tense leadership position so the seriousness is I think conflicting with how I might normally have written her and striking that kind of tone with a character I don't write as much is a challenge. I don't think it would bother me as much if I was more used to her. Jesse in MiT is now the last of the team who doesn't have his own MiF story and though I would love to write for him and do intend to he's got a brain that works very quickly and randomly and I want to do it justice. In terms of who I find hard from characters I have actually posted, I have to be in the right mood for Letty. We're very different, lol. Easiest are Brian and Magnus for sure. They're closest to my own voice and I've written a lot for them so I'm used to them.

On the rest, I'll put under a cut so no one hates me

Re: How I differentiate characters - Firstly, thank you for saying that I differentiate characters well, that's a huge concern of mine so I'm really thrilled you feel that way!

Here are some key ways I like to make their voices distinct (according to how I view the characters, of course, opinions on the below can certainly vary):

Word Choice - It's a very quick way to differentiate characters even in a scene where they're all united and sharing the same sentiment

For instance, Magnus uses often more ornate words than Alec does. Or Letty swears when Mia rarely does. Would the character say that someone was heartbroken or upset or pissed? Letty might say upset or pissed but for me, she’s less likely to use heartbroken. Mia would be much more likely to use heartbroken or upset and sometimes she would used pissed but it wouldn’t be the first word she would reach for unless she was very upset herself. Magnus would use all three but he would absolutely use heartbroken very freely and I would often pair it with a word that would sound ridiculous if Jace said it like “terribly heartbroken” or something. Is Jace saying someone is terribly heartbroken? Probably not, lol, in my opinion. But Magnus totally would.

Sentence Phrasing

For MiT it can often be a little more challenging because they're all roughly the same age. Word choice is still important but I think phrasing is ultimately more key when you don’t have characters who are wildly different like Alec and Magnus. Dom, for instance, doesn't *like* talking so much but he does it for Brian. I often have him drop filler words to kind of give that impression so the way he makes a sentence is more bare bones than the other characters. Vince and Letty speak more similarly but Vince is less casually explosive than Letty so he's not exclaiming things as much. Mia and Leon are similar because they're both much more calm people who speak both gently but also pretty matter of fact to Brian but Mia has a more optimistic tone whereas Leon's is more neutral. Mia often has an undercurrent of concern but Leon tends to be more chill. Is the character supposed to be laugh out loud funny? I put way more effort into giving Brian his weird little one-liners but I don't do much of that for Mia or Alec.

I think re: your character archetype challenge, maybe adding in another qualifier or two could help differentiate tones? I think you could probably cite Foggy, Letty and Brian as sarcastic characters but Foggy is a sarcastic worrier with mothering tendencies, Letty is a sarcastic badass who doesn’t like to be soft, Brian is a sarcastic brat who has a hard time interacting with people. You can further break them down as well with Foggy’s very smooth and intelligent sarcasm that maybe tends more towards wit, Letty’s very blunt sarcasm and Brian’s very defensive sarcasm. Foggy is often wanting to be funny, Letty is aiming not for funny but for cool and Brian is often unaware. What is the character’s background? Do they lend towards highbrow humor or lowbrow humor? Is the sarcasm meant to attack or make them seem lovable?

I hope any of that helps! I feel compelled to apologize for making you read so much, lol, I just love shit like this. Thank you for asking!

[folkloreguk]

French Class [6]

A/N: You guys might want to whack out your love song playlist for this one…I cried writing this BYE I'm posting this from my grave!!

genre: optional bias (m) x reader (f), fwb, f2l?, college!au, fuckboy!bias, nerd!reader, ANGST, smut

words: ~ 3.8 k

✽series masterlist✽

taglist (lmk if u wanna be added!): @lovely-ateez, @runaway-fics, @mainexiii, @awfullytiredbuthealing, @erikyoong, @etherealuv, @staysuki, @justcuz-ican, @yeostars, @hyuckthangs, @teenloves, @mexious18-blog, @sunghoonied, @mailobjaeyoon

couldn’t tag: @chorizoek

You: can I come over? I kind of need u

H/N: you need me huh…you’re lucky I’m home alone

It always starts differently. Some other question, or a subtle message of telling him you’re bored, or a flat-out confession of being horny. The ending is always the same. You, naked in his bed. You just had to get there, and things were easy when you were already on his dorm’s doorstep.

The moment he had opened the door, you had fistfuls of his hair between your fingers and attacked his mouth in a feverish kiss. He made a noise between a laugh and surprise but reacted quickly. His lips parted right away, letting you in, and you tasted mint from the chewing gum he liked so much.

“Let me- at least- close the door,” he mumbled. “Jeez, what’s gotten into you today?”

You stepped aside and mirrored his grin. He was acting surprised, but the way he instantly locked your lips after he had shut the door told you he was enjoying this as much as you were. You ran your hands down his torso and along the side of his thighs. His happy hum only poured oil into the fire, and you saw no reason as to why you should have kept your clothes on any longer. In minutes, in the middle of heated kisses and clumsy chuckles, your clothes were discarded, and you were left in your underwear. You stumbled into his bedroom in a tangle of arms and legs and heads barely pulling apart.

“Will you tell me about the date you had today or are we skipping over that part?” he asked, as he pushed you down by the shoulders onto his bed. You groaned a little, not even knowing where to start.

“Didn’t go well, huh?” he asked. Only a few nights ago you had consoled him after his failed date, now the roles were reversed.

“That’s one way to put it,” you said. He was climbing on top of you now, and the weight of him between your thighs still did the same things to you it had done the first time. There was one of his random playlists playing quietly from the speakers, but you were both too occupied to even consider switching the music off. You weren’t in the mood for a chat, not when he was biting and sucking bruises into your chest, pushing aside your bra just enough. But you knew he wasn’t going to let it go this easily.

“Tell me about it or I won’t take one more piece of clothing off your body,” he threatened. You shot him an are-you-serious-look while he only blinked at you innocently, like he was awaiting your response.

“Fine,” you groaned. “But hurry, now.”

“That’s my girl,” he said, before unclasping your bra and throwing it to the other side of the room. “Go ahead, I expect a story.”

You had rolled your eyes at him, but when he sucked on your nipple all of a sudden, and his tongue flicked over the sensitive bud ever so perfectly, your eyes moved to the back of your head involuntarily. And, before he could complain, you started to retell today’s events.

“Alright. First of all, he acted all gentleman-y. Pulling back my chair at the restaurant, letting me have a look at the menu first, letting me order first, asking me if I was okay with our seats because they were in the sunshine, or whether he should have requested we get a different in the shade table, blah, blah, blah.”

With the lewd noises he was making, kissing your chest and fumbling with your breasts, you almost wondered whether he was paying attention to you at all.

“I’m waiting for the plot twist,” he chuckled. “If he had been this great, you wouldn’t be in my bed right now, would you?” He was now on his way to your lower regions. Your breaths came out shaky when he gripped your hips with familiar fingertips and placed a few kisses there, right above the material of your underwear. Nonetheless, you had to continue your story.

“Oh, it’s coming,” you said. “Because I suspect, the only reason he was acting that way was to compensate. For the fact that he was an hour late.”

He stifled a laugh, and you slapped his head playfully. “It’s not funny! I stood outside that restaurant on a busy street like an idiot for an hour. During exam season!”

“I wonder, if studying is so special to you- ,” he said. He tugged on your underwear, and you barely cared about his words when you were already imagining his mouth on your pussy. “Why aren’t you at home right now, doing just that?”

“Too frustrated,” you groaned, spreading your legs, practically inviting him in. “You don’t get it. That was only the beginning of the date. It gets worse.”

“Oh, damn,” he laughed, and you were going to slap him again. Harder, this time. But his tongue kitten-licked over your clit and you didn’t dare interrupt him further.

“First of all, he turned out to be boring. An economics major. And look, I’m not generalizing, I’ve met some cool economics majors. But when I said I never really understood the whole thing with inflation and deflation, I wasn’t asking for him to explain it to me. I know what it means, I just meant to say money is the root of all evil,” you said, little moans slipping inbetween your sentences. He laughed whilst sipping on your clit. You couldn’t be mad at his laughing anymore. In fact, at the sound of his chuckles, your own lips curled into a smile, too. God, he was so good with his tongue.

“But turns out he loved money. Like it was the sole reason he was doing anything. When he showed me his gold watch I almost yawned,” you continued.

“Dating a rich guy can have its upsides too, though,” he said, but you knew he was joking. He was running the tips of his fingers over your core, and you whimpered at how badly you wanted him to put them inside of you. You loved watching him, loved feeling his hair tickle the side of your thighs and having his free hand laying on top of your hipbone. The familiarity of it all, his little habits, made your heart heavy, so full of emotion, all of a sudden. But you had to snap out of it.

“Not this guy. He kept saying these lowkey sexist things I won’t repeat now. It’ll only make me mad again. He was one of those who thought money would buy him a girlfriend. And I was really trying to see the good in him…only there was none,” you said.

“Alright, I’m starting to understand why you needed some cheering up,” he said. “Good thing you’re at the right place. I know just the thing.”

At this, he slid his digits into you. You hummed and dropped your head into the plush pillow. Slowly, you exhaled, happy you finally got to relax after being so upset. But of course, he had to interrupt. Again.

“Did I say you could stop? Was that the end of the story?” he said. How did he expect you to form a coherent sentence? He fingered you gently, but the slowness of it all only drove you crazier. You felt every tiny sensation, every new bit of you he touched.

“No,” you sulked. “Fuck, it feels so good.”

“Go on, then,” he encouraged you, grinning because he was proud of your reaction he had caused.

“Fuck- okay. He was super shitty to the waiter. I’m talking about criticizing everything. This man had the audacity to complain about the food. I’m not a food critic, but I swear the food was amazing, there was nothing to fault at all,” you said, and then whined when he switched from licking your clit to sucking it between his teeth. You knew he was doing this on purpose. To make speaking harder for you.

“Oh my god, H/N. Wait, let me finish this. Not only was he horrible to the waiter in person, but he also made fun of the waiter’s appearance behind his back. And all along he expected me to find him funny. I used to think he had a sense of humor but not after today. Blech.”

“At least you got a free dinner?” he said, and without awaiting your answer, went back to work. Your head was spinning in pleasure, and you could only laugh sarcastically at his suggestion.

“Yeah. And after that train wreck of a date, he really thought he’d get to stick his tongue down my throat,” you said.

“Did he at least ask permission?” asked the boy between your legs.

“Mhm…but I told him I don’t do that on the first date,” you said. “Safe to say there won’t be another date, though.”

He looked up now, laughing more than before. You grinned, mainly because the sight of him was so cute. He folded his hands on your belly and put his face down onto your skin to giggle. In no way could you be upset or urge him to keep giving you head. In fact, you had forgotten about all of that for a while, as he seemed to enjoy your misfortune a little too wildly. You should have been hungry, eager to have the half-naked boy inside of you. Yet, you laughed at the way his breaths tickled your stomach and when he finally made eye contact, it was a wholly different sort of hunger which overcame you. Instead of the heat he usually made you feel, it was a comfortable warmth that was in your chest. It reminded you of a bonfire or of drinking your favorite hot drink on a cool autumn day.

“I want to watch you come,” he said, casually. “Were you close?”

You were so lost in his trustworthy, dreamy eyes, you almost forgot to reply. Quickly, you nodded and hummed.

“I would have already come, had you not pestered me to tell you all the details of my date,” you said. The way his cheeks beamed when he smiled made you feel as if your insides were turning into mush.

“I’m sorry. I’m your friend, aren’t I allowed to ask how your day went?” he asked.

“Of course you are,” you said. The word ‘friend’ echoed off every wall in your head until you wished you could have deleted it from the dictionary.

“I’ll make sure it feels extra good now,” he said, kissing your stomach. You shivered as you watched his gentle lips move lower, to your hips and the insides of your thighs. The touch felt like butterfly wings on your skin, and the tardiness of it made you impatient. When his tongue came in contact with your clit again, you sucked in a breath of surprise.

He tried to start slowly, but then you gripped his hair tightly, and carefully pushed him further. It was something you did often, a way to tell him you wanted more without having to use words. After all this time, he understood perfectly. Your clit was between his lips and his tongue flicked over the sensitive bundle of nerves with just the right amount of pleasure. It felt incredible, creating a funny sensation in the pit of your stomach. His fingers grazed over your slit until you were whimpering and shifting your hips, trying to make him hurry.

One of his digits slid into you easily, curling against your sweet spot, and it hit you only now how much you had missed him between your legs since he had stopped a few minutes ago. It made you feel as though you were suddenly overwhelmed with all of him, but you were willing to let the heat crash over you if it meant you could be close to him.

“Am I making it up to you now?” he asked as he pulled away merely for a breath. “I’ll turn your day into a good one after all.”

In a different tone his words would have sounded like the exact thing one would have expected to hear from a fuckboy in the bedroom. He could have boasted and bragged endlessly about how great he was with his tongue and fingers – he would have been right – but he didn’t mean it like that. You could tell from the uprightness and the authenticity in his voice that he really was doing his best because he wanted to make you feel better and turn your day around. Because you were special to him. Or so you desperately hoped.

Your legs wrapped around his shoulders as if you were trapping him between your thighs. But he was right there, and he would gladly stay for so much longer, and to say it puzzled you was an understatement. The boy who belonged to everybody, who was known by all of the campus, was treating you like you were royalty, and not the other way around. You moaned, his name inevitably falling from your lips. He added another finger and the slightest stretch made you lose your mind for a split second.

“That guy could have never made you feel this good, could he?” he suddenly asked. Your initial response was a helpless whine. You had been so close, and his talking had interrupted the otherworldly bliss for a moment.

“No, never,” you then whimpered shortly. ‘No’ was such a tiny word. It could barely encapsule what you truly meant to say. Which was that it would have never even gotten that far. That other guys couldn’t even have you at all. They didn’t get their turn to try and beat him. Not as of lately, at least. That you didn’t so much as dare to think about sleeping with other guys. That even before you had gone on the date, you had known it wouldn’t lead to anything. No guy could let you develop an interest on him in the same way the boy between your legs had done it. No other would be able to kidnap your brain like that. H/N was always there. Even when it was only you and your sex toys, you would automatically pretend it was him getting you off. You were so far gone that it was embarrassing how long it had taken you to admit it to yourself. But it was a colossal thing to confess to him, and you would never do that. Rejection would hurt a billion times more than whatever it was you two had now.

Your heart was racing as you closed your eyes. You had been so lost in thought, it was wondrous you hadn’t fallen yet. But you were right on the edge, making your breaths come out like puffs and a string of moans and swears sound from your lips. He too had stopped talking, concentrating on the task at hand, and judging by the way your back arched he was doing one hell of a good job.

“Oh my god- “ you whimpered. “I’m so close, H/N.”

This time he didn’t reply, which was for the best. Only a few seconds passed until you started to quiver and whine beneath him. You were going to outer space behind your eyelids as your high rushed through you. Your fingers curled and tightened in his locks while your legs clenched around his head. He was quick to pull your thighs apart again, still not being finished. For long seconds you swam in pleasure, with nothing on your mind but bursting stars. He was heaven, knowing precisely how far he could take it until you were too sensitive to take any more.

When you were at that point, he finally pulled away and looked up at your crumpled form. There was a lazy smile playing in the corner of your lips and your vision was hazy after having had your eyes closed for a while. He climbed up your body until his chest was against yours so he could really look at you.

“I get all of this without ever having been on a single date with you? I’m so lucky,” he said. You only smiled at him, at a loss for words. What were you to say? The two of you were clearly past the awkward dating stage already.

“I’m lucky you let me come over all the time,” you said. “I would have expected the campus fuckboy to be busier. To not have an empty spot in his bed every night.”

“Ah, shut up,” he said. “I’d rather have you here than a girl I don’t know at all. Look, I’m really tired so I don’t know how this will go…but can I?” He was on his knees, a tent visible in his boxers. With a questioning look, he was tugging them down his legs now.

“Of course,” you said. As you watched him roll on a condom, your ears perked up. Did that song have to come on shuffle just now? The coziest, most romantic love song you adored so much? You knew if you looked him in the eyes you’d be done for. But there wasn’t anywhere else to look when he settled between your legs and held up his weight with his forearms. His eyes were deep enough for you to get lost within a second. Distracting yourself was impossible. The one last thing you could do was to reach between the two of you and guide his length into you.

The song’s chorus came on, you looked at him once again, and suddenly you were all his. You didn’t need to tell him so. He thrust gently, almost carefully, like he had never done it with you. Your heart hammered against your ribcage so vivaciously, you wondered whether it had turned autonomous and was now trying to jump out of your body, onto his skin and through it, so it could nestle next to his own heart.

Neither of you spoke. Yet, there had never been so much chemistry, such a heavy amount of uncommunicated emotions between the two of you. You were ready to hang on his every word, should he decide to speak up. In your head rampaged a billion sentiments you needed him to know, but there was no option to express them adequately. Perhaps there were simply no words in the English language to declare your feelings for him.

Small whimpers and moans left your lips only for him to hear. Sometimes he moved a little quicker, gifting you with the most perfect sounds he could make. And to know you were the cause for it sent you into overdrive. His mouth was right above yours. If you lifted your head slightly, you could have kissed his sweet, sweet lips. But you were so afraid. What would he think? You had never kissed him during sex. Not softly, like you wanted it so terribly.

Even worse, you craved so much more than that. You wanted to pull him in, envelope his mouth in your own, crawl over the edge of his lips and reside in his chest for safety. Because that’s what he was. Comfort. Reassurance. Home. How foolish you had been, pretending this little fling would lead to nothing more. You really had told yourself this would work. No feelings. Just fun. You couldn’t deny having fun with him. He was the best company you had ever known, and he had become your most precious friend quickly. It was as if you had only been waiting for the silly, flirty boy to sit across from you in the library and make weak advances towards you.

The love song tuned out slowly, replaced by something more sensual and sinful. In accordance with the new background noise, he gripped your hips a little meaner and went faster. You barely noticed how his breathing had sped up as he was getting closer to his orgasm. A trance had overcome you, transfixing you on his godlike features and how much it hurt to know you couldn’t call him yours. In your head you were made for each other. They always said to date your best friend, didn’t they? You could try to turn back time, go back to your first meeting place, at the party. See if things would turn out different. But you knew they wouldn’t. As much as your fear tried to suppress it – you would take the same path again, stumbling head-first into his arms and letting him into your life like a crashing wave of laughter and heart-crushing conversations.

Now you reflected in despair, how he had taken your heart in a storm, without having to try too hard. And worst of all, you were okay with it. Your heart was secure with him, you thought. The feelings yearned to be spoken out loud, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

“You feel so good,” he said. “Always, so fucking good.”

He snapped his hips against yours, burying his cock deep inside of you and all you could muster was a hum of agreement. This is what you got for keeping him at arms-length from the beginning. Wasn’t it you who had challenged him to be friends and only that? Perhaps you would be okay, so long as no one else called him theirs either. You could go on like this, letting him use you for sexual relief and making him laugh when he needed it. Gladly, you would take the pain of not being allowed to love him with your whole being if it meant you could see him whenever you wanted. Exposing those silly emotions would wreck your friendship and you wouldn’t let it happen.

He grunted and only then, when he lowered his head into the crook of your neck and moaned your name, you realized he was reaching his high. Softly, you cradled his head in your hands, as if it was the last time you could hold him like this. When he put his forehead against yours, he had his eyes closed and his chest was moving steadier than before.

“You’re the best,” he whispered. “Stay the night?”

Should you have gone home, and missed him all night? Would you have regretted saying no while you curled up in bed with no Cheshire-cat-grin-boy to hold? Or were you to remain in his bed, and pray you would survive the torture of not speaking your mind? His skin radiated the most wonderful warmth and you wanted to trace his lips with your eyes until you fell asleep. That’s how quickly it was decided.

“Okay,” you answered.

[whatisgoingonpaul]

Lost boys backstorys

I made a post while ago on my ideas of the boys past but now I want to update it. I just want you to know I’m still a firm Prequel lover/follower however we don’t get much info on the boys Pre 1906, so that’s what this is for! However personally I would have had more Max so this is going to be both pre 1906 but also include relationship with Max a bit.

I am also including my personal ideas on Last names and age. However I am under the idea that they wouldn’t know/take their last name seriously if the did know it cause- ya know. Orphans. This is going to be lengthy and I’m going to pin it, not just because I want it seen but also to remind myself in fic writing (when I don’t follow these ideas in a fic it’s gonna be Marked as Au- as I’ll probably be messing around with a different past.)

I’ll be doing appearance but only physical as there’s some stylistic changes. For clothing? Honestly so thinking workers clothes/cowboy esc

Also! Their stories are all going to kinda intertwine so I’d there’s not enough info under one theirs a solid chance there’ll be more for them under someone else’s!

David Hardy-

Age(as of 1906): 19

Born: 1887

Appearance: Average height, his hair a dirty blond- near reddish and is around shoulder length. Bearded. (Think doc but with slightly updated clothing)

Backstory:

David Is the only of the boys to grow up with at least one of his parents, living with his mother until her death when he was around 7. They lived in a decent, though cramped little space in San Francisco, by the docks. His father worked on and off- a not so stable style ending in him getting involved in not doing saviory things - getting arrested. His mother worked as a washerwoman. David worked the streets awhile, as a young child now left alone, he learned to pickpocket and live off what he could manage. It was around this time he had found Marko- doing the same thing he was - though arguably less effectively do to his more sporadic nature. At around age 10 the two became extremely close and rather inseparable, Marko even looking up to him despite being the older of the pair. However david wasn’t one to living completely criminal like... he did NOT want to be his father, which lead him to not drinking , EVER. (Even as a vampire he still doesn’t do alcohol.) he poked towards more honest work, also forcing Marko into doing the same , which he wasn’t exactly thrilled about- but did anyway. Tried. David did a lot of work on the docks, odd jobs and stuff like that- but it never paid even half as good as nabbing a wallet or cheating at cards. He wouldn’t be his father- he’d be better- better then all the nobody’s. More level headed then Marko though  ambitious, big headed and still wildly child like- eventually Paul , Dwayne and Jasper joining the pair. Well now, David had himself a full on gang. Never robbery, not that far. The group pickpocketed , cheated at any sort of game or match, that sort of thing... they were still young after all. Smart enough not to go wild like some famous bandit (Though David will admit to his slight admiration of Billy the kid.). He’s a quick learner, and when he learns something- he learns it well- becomes a damn near expert. When he is good at something he is good at it. He is the leader out of the groups mutual respect towards him , quick thinker. Notable flaws: Huge ego, hopeless romantic.

Marko Connelly-

Age(as of 1906): 20

Born: 1886

Appearance: on the shorter side, golden - darker brown hair in this fluff of ringlets it’s long about just past his shoulder blades and typically tied back. Usually dirty somehow (Think Poli but with longer hair and updated clothing)

Backstory:

Born to a rich family , one of those who moved from east to west and actually did make it big. He was a pretty little thing, more a doll to his mother then particularly a child- only taken from Nanny to be dotted over or photos taken. However around the age of 3 or 4 things had tipped, scandal! Missing. That is what the newspapers said anyway he was found missing- was it that he was given away? Or stolen? He was never particularly a child to be quite or sit still or anything such as that... so who is to say? Marko doesn’t remember a lick of that either way as he was far far to young for it but he does remember being alone. This is how he had grown his attachment to birds, they always stuck around. He grew comfortable with being alone, having himself to depend on, getting good at grabbing what he needs- A mansion is stark contrast to dirty winding alleyways. He was always cursed with his looks- even filth covered at 6 he could make sad eyes and tend to swindle whatever he wanted... but he wasn’t completely quick. He’d get in trouble, his face memorable he could rarely pass the same trick again. At 11 David came across him, the two started working and living together (that is where they could find a place to sleep.) he sort of gained this complex. He felt he owed David , in some strange sense he became attached at the hip- a helper, a second- almost servant like the guy had saved his life and he is now the others. It didn’t help that at a young age, Marko had developed what was come to be understood as a deep crush- at times as teens this was reciprocated. As loyal and loving as he was to the other male he wasn’t nearly as cautious, as rule following... he had come to despise authority, to despise the fancy, the rich all of the crowd. He was never sure why. Even regular work got on his hate list... but he gave in and would try to do a normal amount pf work.. it never really worked as there was something, how he would sass, how he looked or smelled or spoke (neither him nor David really spoke ‘proper’ English - meaning no slang or accent). Around when Paul came things started to shift in the group, more mouths- more work and more thinking. Oh yea David and his thinking. Marko is a bit hostile right off the bat when it comes to people he doesn’t know, eventually he cracks and will be more loyal to you then to anyone you’d ever know. He opened up to Paul, a lot sooner then he would have thought the guy was funny and sweet - lil stupid too. David had this grand idea of a little gang, naturally Marko was all for it because illegal activity is fun- it was like a game to him. A liked stealing from pockets and playing distraction for David, as time grew he began to hate how young and gentle his face appeared to be. He LOATHED absolutely appalled the pity glances he would get, the hand outs the whole “oh you poor fragile little dear 🥺” he hated being babied and still does. He hated the stares he got on the opposite direction ... at first, it was funny, it was nice to be wanted in that sense rather then some baby. However... it grew creepy, it wasn’t women or a fella his age...it was more the gaze of older men. Marko detested it so much- he KNEW he’s seen what some of the guys... even younger then him ended up doing- he could see the occasional look in david’s eye. No he would never really consider....no. Paul was more his shoulder to cry on, someone to go to , to ramble to to speak with and just be with. The two were touchy, always leaning against eachother or grabbing their arms, laughing or sleeping or- eventually it became more then casual, it was serious. The two started ‘dating’ at some point- none of them were ever serious on titles but it was good to put a word to it.

Paul campbell-

Age (as of 1906) : 18

Born: 1888

Appearance: tall and lengthy, he has a mole on his left cheek, he has stubble/shadow opposed to a beard. He’s also usually dirty, dirty blond , long hair think Buffalo bill with volume and his hairline not receding

Backstory:

Grew up in a orphanage, hundreds of kids all stuffed together into a few rooms, often sharing beds and everything else. He was never a still child, he would always figit and move and shift - whenever he’s supposed to be quite or still like lessons or Mass he just couldn’t. This - got him most of the attention from the mistresses and overseers- much more quick to slap then to explain... he was docile , quick to flinch and try and stop. Never worked well. Once you get to 7-8ish you work if not adopted by a decent age. Sweeping, factory work he tried it all. He was particularly desensitized to violence at a extremely young age while working in a textile factory- he’s seen a kids arm come clean off. Terror turns to fascination eventually. At some point he’d stopped returning at night finding David and Marko at 15, he started hanging with them- it was safer in numbers that sort of thing- Paul could read a bit , David could write a bit- the three worked it out together. always so distracted- the others learned right off the bat he wasn’t built for pick pocketing no matter how hard he begged about it. Instead he’d do real jobs- sweeping , fighting, placing crooked bets that sort of thing. He always complains. A massive softie since he was young, Paul can’t quite handle being on his own- he’s used to having at least one other person around him at all times causing him to get quite hooked onto the other boys. He hovers around the same places. He is also a fan of dancing- Paul- is music obsessed the moment he heard the first noise of any sort of music he was hooked. He is one about fun- being restrained from it for so long as a child- always to sit out and watch or to think about whatever he did.. oh. Dancing, drinking, drugs, clubs, all of it is his kind of deal- he would drag the others with him when they had a bit of extra cash to deal with. Dwayne and his brother, when they joined on he was instantly accepting, unlike Marko he didn’t have the deep seeded trust issues, he was immediately touchy and happy to share a joke or a comment no matter the glares. He is the one to get Dwayne to lighten up a little bit, to smile he loves to see that smile :). He got around to dating Marko, when they finally put a label on it he was really giddy about it, making jokes and comments- he adores the little names like ‘sweetheart’ or ‘bo’ - he eventually gets around to just plain ‘sugar’ . Marko is the one who really entertains Paul’s love for dancing, the two of them trying to get the others to do something lighten up- eventually their pawing would bare fruit. Paul makes the best out of the worst situation, even if they end up sleeping on the beach more often then not- he somehow makes it seam alright. Except that one time he had gotten sand in Dwayne’s eye and all hell broke lose. He is the current youngest member of the group after Jaspers passing.

Dwayne Maher

Age (as of 1906) : 22

Born: 1884

Appearance: Tall, muscular , tanned(I will establish this now but Dwayne is Native American.) long Black hair with burnet highlights, reaches half down his back.

Backstory:

Born out more Midwest unlike the others he was not born in San Francisco, eldest son of a decent sized family of four kids. Do to conflict he and his younger brother skipped town, skipped state and fled to California.. better options you know?. He’s strong built, hard working and good with his hands though, rather playful most of the time. He looks after his younger brother closely, when there is work they work the same place, when there is not they both still do the same. Quickly took to David and the gang , having a tight knit bond with each of them. He was sort of the muscle - if there was trouble, he knew how to fight and it would likely work better then the knives the boys carried around or the gun David could barely shoot. It was Paul who got him to open up more, about himself and just to speak in general, he’s much more under his breath and jokingly commenting then he is saying something out loud- however if he dislikes something or thinks it stupid you WILL know it. Like David he carries the occasional thought of caution, however he’s not nearly as quick to worry. Maher is not his actual last name , nor does he ever mention it- he simply uses this one when it’s needed as some sort of identification or document. He’s surprisingly good at money, he ends up counting with David and is better at budgeting no matter how he may want or need something. He doesn’t speak on his past as he tries to make it seam he has little of one, he likes to make things mysterious he finds it amusing.

Jasper Maher-

Age (as of 1906) : 16

Born: 1890

Died: 1906

Appearance: shoulder length black hair, typically tied back and braided , tanned, string bean.

Backstory:

The younger brother of Dwayne who is much much more open on how he grew up, casually mentioning things he learned from his parents of his brother (he doesn’t remember his parents that much.) young hot shot sort of kid who’d much rather have action then he would some serious job, loud, energy filled and one for violence- however he’s surprisingly sweet. He often got himself and his brother into trouble. He was a quick and fast young child who grew surprisingly closest with Marko, the two having a habit for breaking every possible rule they could manage together. Their close friendship lead to Marko naming one of his birds after Jasper long after his passing.

Max-

Unknown age but he is seen as extremely old and powerful

Relationship with the boys:

After finding them he has decided to take them under his metaphorical and physical wing, acting as a sort of guardian. Food, clothing, shelter, he was everything the boys didn’t have and was surprisingly inviting in the beginning. ‘I do this for you, you on occasion do this for me’ sort of deal. He wasn’t a leader so much as he was a usual figure, the boys knew and understood him to be above them... so they followed you know? The whole new vampirism thing and the clueless kids- he had to explain and show nearly everything... especially to David, he wasn’t so much harsh to him as he was strict- more of a lead by example sort. Honestly he was father like in a strange sense- that someone is almost like a parent but very much your boss. See... with Max’s strength, there’s this almost automatic level of control- you can’t say no to him. You literally can’t not do what he asks (some supernatural level messing-). There’s something dark about him, in him that the boys still don’t understand in the 80s- but it scares them. It’s strange, it feels unlike him... he seams just like a Dorky , sweet man until...

Some random thoughts that don’t really fit anything

The boys are explicitly religious, past what you’d hear in passing or remember from growing up. Saying “oh god” and respecting religious officials are about what you’ll get

Whoopsies! This was a extremely long post lmao. Sorry for the long read but I could go on and on about them this was just a small blurb to all of it. If you ever wanna hear more do tell me. Also tell me if I should add tw for anything as I know I got a little dark at some points.

[yourlocalmoron]

Questions and commments I have for Riverdale:

Are the characters ever going to seek counseling/therapy in their adulthood?

Will we ever get a specific mental diagnosis for Cheryl and Betty, or?? Because I feel like Betty might have DID or something else if not more, but I am no psychologist, so please - for the love of whomever you believe in - don’t take my word as gospel. With Cheryl, I’d best guess histrionic, but again, I am no expert...just speculations based off observations and the way they approach/respond/react to situations.

Are all of the students returning as teachers? I really thought they’d all have unique and different jobs (and I mean no offense by that, I just genuinely assumed) outside of teaching—way separate from teaching, actually, except maybe Jug when it comes to writing

Why did they make the Gargoyle King human? I know Roberto never got the green light to fully cross Riverdale over with Sabrina, but they still seemed to have more mentions and guest appearances from the former within CAOS than the other way around? I’m just sayin’... GK was kind of a weird villain, we all know that, but with all the genres that Riverdale plays around with, I think it would’ve been nice to have a supernatural/paranormal-themed season, no? Just me? Kk.. (s3 is my favorite so far, because it’s weird and wild - and I got high for most of its viewing lmao - so I’m biased)

⬆️ I forgot about the fact that Jonathan played as Kurtz in Riverdale and then later as Robin in Sabrina ... and Bret’s actor in CAOS’ last season (wasn’t Donna’s in there, too?) so I mildly stand corrected

I think it would’ve been cool to see Riverdale cover the Be More Chill musical. Idk, with all the peer pressure and casual bullying/taunting/judgement that goes on amongst them peers (examples: joining or leaving/getting kicked out of gangs, being blackmailed into lying in court with the threat of leaking a tape of your brother getting shot, being outed against your consent, getting guilted for still being in the closet, “manning” up after being abused or getting into a bear fight - typical high school stuff), I think it could’ve been an interesting spin. And the cyanide could’ve been replaced with the pill or sumn. But I am content with the musicals they’ve done so far, don’t get me wrong.

Toni’s parents...? ... We ever gonna meet ‘em, or...?

What happened to Hermosa and Charles? Chic, even, or Evelyn? I really don’t remember if they ever explicitly said where these characters went. But I definitely remembered what happened to Edgar 🚀👱🏻‍♂️🔫

Is Hiram gonna try to kill Archie again? I’m sorry but the thought of that kinda makes me laugh, like this dude has been an ongoing villain for three seasons straight. He gets under my skin, and I’d argue that is what can make for a good villain, beloved or not

Did Archie give up Vegas? ‘Cause I haven’t seen that good boy in a while...

Are we ever going to meet Heather?

I just still find it kinda interesting and unique from season 1 that we never once heard Jason speak a line of dialogue, and that everything we ever got to know about him was told through the Blossoms or other students.

The Midnight Club is still one of the best episodes thus far, IMO, and one of my favorites. Maybe I’m just a sucker for nostalgia I wasn’t even alive at the time it came out, but it’s still fun to rewatch.

Why aren’t LGBTQ+ and POC characters utilized more - rather than tossed aside or left to disappear without a trace of goodbye - when there’s actually been a good handful of them per season? (ex.: Cheryl, Kevin, Joaquin, Josie, Chuck, Valerie, Melody, Sierra, Toni, Reggie, Peaches N Cream [I saw her in the recent episode, just for a second, with her cute done-up braids and all], Fangs, Moose, please forgive me if I forgot anyone; it’s been a while) And why do the POC especially end up being villanized up against the white, cishet characters? Like the entire Lodge family, for example..

Toni said her and Jughead were still good friends (when they all - but the core four - still thought he was dead), but I feel like I haven’t seen them interact ‘til Jug denied her title to being the Serpent Queen?

Is Toni going to be pregnant this season, or did they hide Vanessa’s baby bump 🤰🏽 with any random object or article of baggy clothing found onset?

So Reggie and Jughead just never interact after season 3? Kinda sucks ‘cause that’s a duo I’ve been hoping to see more of, but I won’t hold my breath just yet since it sounded like the show’s ongoing til 2022, last time I saw. It would just be cool to see more guy friendships; heck, even Fangs and Reggie would be a sick duo. I just think Reggie getting along with the Serpents - after half a season or more of just not liking or trusting them at all - could be pretty dang cool.

Where did Mad Dog go? I’m sorry, they might’ve said in the last season, but I don’t remember. I miss him either way :(

I just find it funny how Jughead and Veronica never talk about the one kiss they had lmfao. I would’ve loved to see how that convo would’ve gone down, since it’s safe to assume that at least Jug remembered afterward —who never gave Betty a straight answer on whether or not he enjoyed it (/laughs in jeronica crumbs that I’m sure I’ll never get again/)

Who taught Cheryl to talk the way she does? I love her, but— 💀

S1 Alice was so wildly conservative, like...miss ma’am, you’re talking about witchcraft and demons over there like you’ve had your experiences (outside of G&G).. 👀 No but didn’t the Blossoms have a demon in their family bloodline, according to CAOS? ‘Cause that’d make this make much more sense to me..

How many *more* of the Riverdale girls’ fathers could possibly be serial killers or criminals to varying degrees?

Edit: I guess that’s it! I don’t want to ask too much more, just wanna see what this season will entail ~v~

[wishiwasntstillhere]

and when the world is crashing down on you, will you give me a call?

Kyouya makes a different decision, and does not end up threatening someone he cares about. 

Kyouya-centric for his birthday!! Episode 8 fixit fic, no ships but also im clearly in love with all three of them so :) also on ao3!

Haruhi bursts into his room and goes straight for the bathroom, never even seeing him. Heaving noises ensue from within. He winces. Too much crab, then. He lays the towel down, grabbing his glasses so he can stand, but-

Should he go check on her?

For the hundredth time, the waves crash against that jagged rock and Haruhi plunges silent into dark water. He blinks it away.

Instead, he sits, toweling his hair, and wonders at her. Will she be awkward once she realizes he’s just finished showering? Hmm. Probably not. Oblivious or indifferent, Kyouya can never tell which, but Haruhi never seems flustered by that kind of thing.

That thought should be intriguing, but today there's only a churning in his gut.

“All done?” Kyouya asks, once his bathroom door opens again. He doesn't look up.

“I’m sorry for intruding into the room of a stranger-"

“How rude. It’s me.”

"Kyouya-senpai? Oh. I’m sorry, I seem to have gotten everyone worried about me.”

He refuses to let it play again. Yet in crashes the sea, the fall, the silence of that terror. He just can't shake it.

And so, the Shadow King must act.

Kyouya glances past her to the lightswitch and draws up the words he needs.

“I wasn’t particularly worried.” He stands, then drinks out of his water bottle. Cool, casual. That’s the key to this ruse.

He lays out the bait, recounting Hikaru and Kaoru’s scuffle with her attackers. Pinning his focus on his destination across the room, he spins some nonsense about bouquets and apologies to the girls. Kyouya doesn’t look at her once, even as he positions himself for the catch. In a way, it’s hosting. A careful dance made to look careless, subtly guiding her to the right outcome.

“I’ll pay for those flowers myself,” Haruhi promises, of course.

And his timing is precise. In the exact moment he lays out her six-figure mistake, he flips the lights off, and finally, Kyouya can turn to face her.

Something about the ruffles on her dress sends cold water splashing frantic up his insides. He takes another breath. He reaches down, drawing up the calculated cruelty he needs. He doesn’t like playing the bad guy, but he is best equipped for it. And someone has to.

“Why did you turn the lights off?”

She’s stepped in the snare, the cold teeth of the trap must snap shut around her now. Now, or she’ll never see the danger as it should be.

But his eyes catch on her face, blurry in the dark but watching, open, patient—and the teeth don’t move. He doesn’t move.

“Senpai?”

She fidgets, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. Surely she senses the strangeness in the air.

“Senpai, you’re starting to worry me,” she starts cautiously.

Is he? Is he finally? He can hardly breathe, only he knows this isn’t enough. He grasps for his plan, the words that will make things right-

“Senpai, I’m sorry about the expense. Please don’t worry about it, I really will pay it off,” she tries, and he knows that she really means it. She gives him a look, gentler than a smile, something surreal and infuriatingly comforting in her very Haruhi way, and he chokes.

“Why didn’t you call for help, Haruhi?” he asks, relieved that his voice comes out so indifferent.

Haruhi sighs. “So you were worried.”

A Kyouya with the lights on would fill this space with words, flooding it with hurtful meaningless things. As a member of the host club, you are but an asset to me at best, commoner. Don’t presume your own importance. You are obligated to stay out of trouble until your debt is paid, at least.

There are yet other things he could have said in light, things that would have been kinder, truer, and yet just as deceptive. You scared Tamaki. You drove the twins to violence for you. Don't you see how they worry for you?

But they’re in the dark, and Haruhi’s not dumb, and his hand is already shown. Kyouya has an infinite capacity for unkindnesses––but for once, he’s willing to admit that he doesn’t want to go through with this plan.

“Why didn’t you?” he repeats.

She cocks her head, answering frankly. “It didn’t occur to me.”

And the cold inside him wails.  

He clenches his jaw to keep from shouting at her, how completely unhelpful that would be. But still more iron leaches into his tone than intended.

“And just why didn’t it occur to you?”

Haruhi’s chin jerks, eyes sparking. Oh, no.

“Well, those guys weren’t listening, so I didn’t have time to worry about how my gender would impact things. I had to act.”

She’s not listening, and the water is growing more agitated. Careless. Disrespectful. She should be afraid, and he can make her fear him.

Stomach lurching, he holds that thought in place. No. He doesn’t want to hurt her. He doesn’t want her to fear him.

This isn’t about Kyouya. It’s about Haruhi, and her safety.

How can he make her understand? How can he understand?

“I don’t disagree that something had to be done,” he starts. “Those girls were in real, immediate danger, and your intervention allowed Kurakano-kun to get the rest of the club to help. And Tamaki was being unreasonable by making the issue about your gender.”

Even this much is exhausting, so he sits down on the floor.

When she follows suit, her shoulders have settled a little from their taut hunch. Progress. He searches the dark and blurry bedroom for the next right words. But Haruhi finds them first.

“I know that rushing in to fight those guys was reckless,” she murmurs. “But the girls were scared. If I didn’t act, right away, they were going to be hurt.”

Kyouya pauses. She won’t like his next question. But he holds her gaze, intending to understand.

“Had you considered that you could get hurt, by intervening?”

Haruhi frowns. “After I hit the one, I knew they would focus on me. That was sort of the point, to get him to let go of Momoka-chan. But…” Her tone shifts into something more contemplative now. “I suppose I didn’t guard myself well, but how were my actions any different from Tamaki-senpai’s? He dove straight off the cliff to get to me, wasn’t that just as dangerous?”

She does have a point there. However good a swimmer he is, Tamaki had dived off the cliff without even looking. And yet...

True, Tamaki rushes into many reckless things to help others, but it’s never quite filled Kyouya with the same cold dread as Haruhi’s tumble off the cliff. And Tamaki has taken many a tumble. Kyouya would know, after all.

Ah.

“Haruhi, if you were robbed in a foreign country and you didn’t speak the language and you had nothing on you but your cellphone and 1000 yen, what would you do?”

She startles. “Huh? I would… search for the embassy, I guess?”

“And if you had no idea where the embassy was?”

“I would... try to find a map?”

Hmm.

“And if you got locked out of your home at 3 AM in the morning?”

“Senpai, what is this about?” Her confusion has shifted into mild irritation.

“Humor me,” he says, unsmiling.

She throws her hands up in resignation. “I would… wait until my dad got home.”

“And if he was on a business trip? Or if it was storming?”

“I would break in somehow.”

“And if someone at school was stealing your books and writing slurs on your desk?”

Rolling her eyes, she sighs out, “I would let the teacher know I needed new books, and clean off my desk before school. Senpai, this isn’t very funny.”

There’s a knock at his door. “Kyouya?” And it opens. “Do you have any lotion? This sunburn is worse than I-”

Tamaki freezes in the doorway. Kyouya can’t see the look on his face, but he hardly needs to, with the perfect replica hissing steam in his mind. He has approximately three seconds to derail this explosion. Luckily, he has just the thing to reroute the wildly careening train that is Tamaki’s mind.

“What are you-”

“Tamaki, after you got scammed and you were stranded on your own in Taiwan, what did you do?”

Tamaki blinks, recalibrating.

“Uh, I think I went to the embassy?”

“And how did you get to the embassy?”

“Hmm... Oh! I called you to ask for directions.” Walking over, he drops down to sit with them. His eyebrows are pinched––he wants to ask why, but still he lets Kyouya lead on.

“Yes. In the middle of an investor meeting,” he adds to a perplexed Haruhi. “And what about that time when you tried to climb from your window to the roof and fell out of your bedroom, when you were too embarrassed to call for a maid to come unlock your own house at 3 AM?”

“I… called you and stayed over at your place.”

Haruhi makes a face at that, which is fair. Nonetheless.

This last one is a little more delicate. He softens his voice, and inclines his head toward Haruhi by way of explanation. “And when you were bullied by our xenophobic peers in middle school?”

“Ah,” Tamaki says, realization smoothing his brow. “I told you about it. And you blackmailed them within an inch of their lives, of course.” He grins at the memory, at Kyouya. It’s easy to smirk back, warm and wicked in equal measure. That plan he has no regrets about.

Haruhi looks back and forth between them. He knows she’s still turning it over in her own mind. She is certainly smart enough to get it herself. But Kyouya decides anyway to take a page out of her book and be blunt, lest a mistranslation lead to regret later.

“The difference,” he explains, “is that whenever Tamaki is in trouble, he calls.”

They sit in silence for a while, Haruhi with her face downturned, Kyouya watching, patient. Considering both of them with his own discerning gaze, Tamaki settles, too.

“I’m just not like that, though,” Haruhi concludes, at last. Her voice is a touch wistful.

Tamaki is very, very gentle with his next words, Kyouya notices. “You grew up pretty lonely, didn’t you, Haruhi?  You had to deal with a lot on your own.”

She shrugs, though all three know it’s true. And then all at once, they’re thinking of mothers and childhoods lost, and the melancholy sets in heavily over them.

“You know, Kyouya grew up much the same,” he says.

Haruhi turns to look at a bewildered Kyouya, who pushes up his glasses on reflex. But Tamaki smiles, continuing.

“Yes, he’s someone I can always depend on. But he’s not very good at asking for help, either.”

Kyouya glowers at the sheer audacity, only to startle as they both look at him with eyes far too affectionate. He shifts in place and looks down instead.

“But he has the whole Host Club looking out for him. So that even though sometimes, he doesn’t ask out loud, we can see it. And we’ll help.”

Here’s a pause. Tamaki swallows, leans forward, and bows.

“Haruhi, I’m sorry I yelled. I was angry because I was scared. That was my own fault, and you have every right to be upset.”

She rocks a little in her seat. “I’m sorry, as well. I don’t want to worry you guys.”

An absurd feeling grows in Kyouya’s chest. Half mirth, half despair.

Because he realizes: he doesn’t want her to be sorry at all anymore. She shouldn’t have to be sorry, she did nothing wrong . She acted to help, because it was more important to her than any consequence.

And now it’s clear: Haruhi has somehow become someone he truly cares about. Like Tamaki. Haruhi is something precious. Completely an agent of her own, and so trusting, and so kind. She’s earnest. She’s inherently good. He just wants her to be safe.

And he will never have any control over that.

The hysteria swells, threatening the structural integrity of his ribcage. All of the understanding he’s earned still won’t stop the fear that’s been crashing through him this whole night. He chokes down the laughter bubbling up and in his sheer desperation, looks at Tamaki.

It takes only one moment for Tamaki to read Kyouya’s distress, and in the next, he’s grabbing his hand, squeezing tight. And then he extends one to Haruhi.

“Haruhi, you don’t ever have to face things alone again. Will you let us be there for you?”

Kyouya has no control over how hard he squeezes Tamaki’s hand as they wait. He watches Haruhi’s own hands curl on her lap.

"I won’t be very good at it.”

"We aren’t either,” he says. She huffs. “It’s about the trying. Together .”

When she looks up, he's ready. Her eyes are searching, so he makes sure his own gaze is steadfast. He almost missed ever having this opportunity, he's fully aware. He won't let her down again.

“Okay,” she whispers. And takes Tamaki’s hand.

Relief blooms tangibly in the air. Haruhi’s eyes crinkle at Tamaki's relieved laugh. She opens her mouth to say something else, and-

Thunder shatters the room. Haruhi squeaks, yanking on his hand and hunching.

“Haruhi?” Tamaki leans forward, but-

Lightning strikes again, closer this time, and Kyouya feels the thunder slam into his eardrums. Haruhi yelps, trembling violently. She looks around the room, spots his dresser, and stands.

“Sorry! I- I uh- have to go now!”

“Don’t hide in the dresser,” Kyouya says, then feels foolish. Where had that thought come from? Why would she-?

But then she actually starts climbing into his dresser, and he and Tamaki have to hold the doors open.

“What- why would-? Haruhi, are you afraid of thunder?”

“It’s fine, I’ll be fine, this is how I always get through it,” she stammers, curling up inside.

“Not anymore,” says Tamaki, fiercely, and pulls her out into a hug.

“We have an American-style basement. It should be soundproof there, and there won’t be any flashing. Let’s head down now,” Kyouya decides. She’s trembling, clutching hard at Tamaki.

“I can’t- I’m not going to make it.”

“Close your eyes and cover your ears. We’ll get you there safe,” promises the Host Club prince, holding her even tighter.

“Okay,” she whispers.

Somehow they make it, the three of them hobbling to the basement. And somehow, the others find them, and they play games and music until they're almost all asleep on the various couches.

Kyouya’s turned off the lights and is just throwing a blanket over the twins when he hears her.

He’d thought she was asleep when he’d passed to drape a blanket over her on her own couch. Maybe she’s sleep talking, or maybe she woke up again. Either way, he stills, hoping she won’t spot him.

“You guys are even nicer than I thought,” she murmurs to the dark room. “Thank you, Kyouya-senpai.”

Despite himself, he smiles.

[neerasrealm]

awesome! can i please request friends to lovers with cody boi and demisexual!y/n? 🥺👉👈

YOU’RE IN LUCK I’VE BEEN WORKING ON MY CODY LORE RECENTLY. hopefully I did alright- I’m kind of inexperienced with writing demi characters so I apologize if I got something wrong.

"Oh, sorry."

Your hand brushes against another as you reach for the chemistry book you need for your assignment. You grab it and look up at the other person. He's taller than you and has pale skin and honey-brown hair that hangs over one of his green eyes, which blink at you. He scratches at an old, jagged scar on his jaw. 

"You gonna read that?"

"Well duh," you frown at him. "I have an assignment to do." 

"Ah." He nods, glancing aside. "What's your major?" 

"Chemical engineering." You tilt your head at him. "You?"

"Pharmacology." He replies. You arch your brow. If he was studying pharmacology wouldn't you have seen him around campus? Then again- your college is pretty big so...maybe you just forgot his face. He steps back away from you, putting his hands in his hoodie's pockets. "Enjoy the book." He says in a bored tone before turning and walking away. 

------

"Hmm…"

Once more, you're looking for a very, very specific book. For another assignment. A group one. "Uggghhh…" you mutter to yourself. You do not want to be that one guy who doesn't do any work and drags the group down. You already have one of those. As you step out from behind a bookshelf your eyes absently scan the long reading table before-

Wait.

You turn back and squint. The book! It's right there! And being read by...a pale skinned boy with honey-brown hair and green eyes. You glance around for a moment before walking over and taking a seat across from him.

"You gonna read that?"

He looks up at you, seemingly surprised. His eyes widen with realisation, and the smallest of smiles curls up his lips. "...well duh." You smirk and laugh a little bit. He sets the book down and tilts his head at you. "You get that assignment done?"

"Barely." You reply. "Now I got a group project to do."

"Ew." He wrinkles his nose in disgust. He glances from you to the book his hand is resting on. The book you need. "...what're your plans for after college?" He asks, trying to sound casual, but the question sounds like he’s inspecting you.

"A bio engineer. You?"

He blinks in surprise. "Same, actually. Specialising in curing diseases."

"Huh! I was gonna do the same. I wanna help develop medicines."

He looks at you for a moment, then smiles a bit. He closes the book and slides it over to you. "Good luck on the assignment." He says before standing up and walking away. You watch him leave with a small, curious smile. 

----

"God that professor drives me crazy…" one of your classmates mutters as they walk past you. You can't help but agree. 

Stepping outside you wrinkle your nose. It's raining. Great. And all you have is a thin jacket with no hood. A breeze blows by, and it feels like it's going straight through your clothes. You shiver. 

"Hey." A familiar voice grunts beside you. You look up in surprise and are greeted by a taller boy in a hood wearing blue goggles. One of his eyes is obscured by honey-brown hair. He reaches up, grabbing the goggles and pulling them down. Green eyes blink down at you. 

"Oh, hey." You tilt your head at him. "Book boy."

He smirks a bit, tossing his head to the side like he's mimicking you. "Is that my name?"

"Well you never told me your name."

He blinks in surprise, like he hadn't even realised he'd never told you his name. Or forgotten. You suppress a laugh. "Oh." He says. "I'm Cody. But my friends call me X."

"Why?" You ask, smiling a bit. He opens his mouth to reply, then closes it again, like he's stumped. 

"It's my favourite letter?" He finally answers. You laugh loudly. 

‘’Alright, X,’’ you smirk at him. ‘’Did you need something? Another book?’’

‘’Huh? Oh- nah.’’ he scratches at the scar on his jaw. ‘’I saw you out in the rain and uh-’’ he pauses, reaching into the brown satchel thrown across his side. He searches around in it, the contents jingling and clinking until he pulls out a folded up umbrella. ‘’I brought you this.’’ You blink in surprise. You reach out and take it. ‘’But I want something in return.’’

‘’Huh?’’

‘’One, I want my book,’’ he toys with the strap of his goggles as he speaks. ‘’And two...I wanna take you for coffee.’’

You arch your brow. ‘’...why?’’

‘’I think you’re neat.’’ he shrugs. ‘’I don’t talk to people much. And you have a similar major so…’’

You hesitate. It isn’t the first time a guy you don’t know well has asked you for coffee under the pretense of ‘you’re just neat’. You pause. He looks at you, seemingly disinterested. Like it doesn’t matter if you say yes or no. 

‘’...sure.’’ you finally say. ‘’But you’re paying.’’

He wrinkles his nose. ‘’I’ll pay the tip.’’ he says. ‘’Sixty percent.’’

------

‘’Hey, y/n!’’

You look up as you step outside your lecture hall. Cody runs towards you, shaking his honey-brown hair out of his eyes. You smile brightly at him as he stops in front of you. Cody has been warming up to you over the past few weeks. He meets you after classes, walks you to your dorm or gets coffee with you, and always, always follows you to the library. He’s...odd. Initially he was standoffish, like he didn’t really care about your company all that much, but as you’ve spent time together he’s opened up a lot more. He’s excitable, and wildly passionate about all sorts of things. But mostly science- which suits you. He helps a lot with writing papers. 

‘’Hey X.’’ you greet him. You walk past him and he trails after you. ‘’How was your day?’’

‘’Fine.’’ he says. ‘’Professor Harrison is still annoying.’’

‘’Ugh- so glad I don’t have his classes till next week…’’ you sigh. ‘’Glad it’s Friday, huh?’’

‘’Yeah.’’ he smiles a bit. 

‘’You got plans for the weekend?’’

‘’Huh? Oh, uh...not- not really. Just- research…’’

You glance over your shoulder and smile at him. ‘’You wanna come over for a bit tomorrow?’’

‘’Co-come over?’’

‘’Yeah. We can hang out, watch a movie or something.’’

‘’...you want me in your house?’’

‘’Well it’s not really a house but- yeah.’’ you smile at him. ‘’What? I can’t invite my friend over to hang out?’’

His bright green eyes seem to shimmer. ‘’Friend?’’ he asks, excitement leaking into his voice. You nod, smiling a little bit. He’s funny when he’s excited. He beams wide. ‘’S-Sure! Yeah, I can postpone my research!’’

-----

‘’Knock knock!’’

You get up off your couch and move over to the door. Opening it, you’re greeted by honey-brown hair and green eyes beaming down at you. ‘’Hey y/n.’’ Cody chirps, shifting on his feet. You step aside to let him in. He walks inside quickly, holding coffee in each hand. He puts down the coffees and rummages through his satchel. ‘’I brought you snacks, and some books I thought you might like. Oh! I also bought you a spare USB, since you almost lost yours last week. You can back your files up on this one just in case-’’

‘’Cody.’’ you interrupt. He looks over at you. ‘’You...didn’t need to get me all of this.’’ you frown. You only invited him over for a movie- why all the stuff? 

‘’...I wanted to help.’’ he murmurs. ‘’I know you like coffee, so I thought you’d like some. Then I thought we’d need snacks for the movie, and then I passed the library and remembered the USB thing so I-’’ he fiddles with his hands. ‘’Isn’t that what friends do?’’

‘’...Cody,’’ you say. He stares at you. ‘’You’ve never had a friend before, have you?’’

He hesitates, then shakes his head. ‘’Not really.’’ he shrugs. ‘’Nobody was ever interesting enough to talk to,’’ he glances aside. ‘’But...you’re different. I dunno how but- you are.’’

You fold your arms, looking at him for a few moments, then exhale gently. ‘’...you’re really weird, X.’’

-----

‘’Hey y/n?’’ 

‘’Huh?’’ you look up from the cheap chinese takeout the two of you ordered. It has become a routine for the two of you to hang out on weekends. And during the week. Cody meets up with you almost every day, and the days he doesn’t he’s...completely impossible to reach. Like he dropped off the face off the earth. But you don’t mind too much.

‘’What do you think of human experiments?’’ his eyes stare into you. You blink.

‘’If they’re safe, then yeah. If it clears animal testing first I think human testing should begin, if the correct safety procedures are taken.’’

He nods. ‘’Yeah, yeah but…’’ he taps his fingers on the table for a second. ‘’Sometimes we need to disregard those protocols. That’s a fact, right?’’

‘’...yeah?’’ you tilt your head, confused.

‘’So what if we used bad people for those experiments? Like death row criminals. It would speed up the process.’’

You blink for a moment. ‘’I mean-’’ you think for a moment. ‘’I dunno…’’ you look away. ‘’Why are you asking me this?’’

‘’No reason.’’ Cody looks back at you and shrugs. ‘’The topic came up in class earlier and it just crossed my mind.’’

----

‘’Knockknocknockknocknockknockkno-’’

You yank open your door and glare up at the person in the doorway. ‘’It’s three in the mo-’’ you pause. The tall, rude person in your doorway is breathing heavily through a gas mask. Their head is lowered, their face obscured by honey-brown hair. They cough.

‘’Sorry for wakin’ you.’’ he grunts. He leans up off the doorway and stumbles forward. You catch him quickly.

‘’Cody?! What the fuck?! Is that you?!” 

"Yeah…" he coughs a bit and grips your shoulders for support. "I got in a fight…"

You pull him over to your couch. He collapses onto it and groans. You pull off his gas mask and goggles and look at his face. It seems to be okay- because of the gas mask probably. Good protection for his face. 

"Where does it hurt?" You ask quickly.

"They fucking kicked me in the gut." He mutters back. He coughs a couple times. "H-Hey, did I drop my baseball bat…?"

"Baseball bat?" You stand up and look over at your door, which is still open. A baseball bat with nails sticking out of the head leans against the doorway. You move over and grab it, closing the door. "Why do you have this thing?"

"Self defense." He grunts back. "Can you get me some ice?"

"Sure, sure yeah."

------

"So like…" Cody looks up from his cereal as you speak. He's been staying in your dorm for the past few days, recovering from getting beat up. "Does this happen...often…?"

He looks at you. "Why would you think that?"

"Because you have a weapon for self defense and you have a scar on your jaw." You point at him. He palms at the jagged scar on his jawline. 

"Oh." He says. "This one isn't from a fight."

You frown and tilt your head. "It isn't?"

"I was in a car accident when I was eight." He says. "My parents died in it. I didn't."

You blink, completely taken aback. "Shit- really?" You suddenly regret all the curious looks you've given that scar over the past while. "That's horrible- I'm sorry dude."

He waves you off. "It's nothing." He murmurs. It's quiet and awkward for a while before he speaks again. "I got a lot more scars from the crash. You wanna see?" He grins at you. You break out into a smile.

"...oh heck yeah I do."

-----

‘’Hey y/n?’’

‘’Huh?’’ you look up from your laptop and over at Cody, who’s laying on his back on your bed, staring at the ceiling through his blue goggles. He doesn’t answer for a moment. 

‘’How long have we been friends?’’ His voice is small and thoughtful. Maybe even sad. You frown.

‘’Like….six months. Why?’’

‘’That’s a long time.’’ he muses, sounding surprised. He turns and looks at you. ‘’...I trust you.’’

‘’You trust me?’’

‘’Yeah.’’ he looks at the ceiling again. ‘’I trust you. A lot. I’ve never really- had a friend before...but I trust you.’’ he turns to you again. ‘’I’m glad I met you, y/n.’’

‘’...what sparked that?’’ you ask gently. Cody shrugs.

‘’Dunno. Was just thinkin’ bout stuff…’’ he’s quiet for a while. ‘’You ever think about how chickens are descended from dinosaurs so technically dino nuggets are dinosaur meat?’’ he breaks the silence. 

‘’PFFFFF-’’

----

‘’Hey! y/n!’’ 

You look up just in time to see Cody sprinting towards you from the other side of the campus. His gas mask is on, even though he doesn’t seem to be coming from the campus’s lab, as are his goggles. His hood falls down, exposing honey-brown hair. You walk quickly toward him and he stumbles towards you, then doubles over gasping for air. 

‘’Uh- you oka-’’

‘’HEY! YOU!’’ 

You look up quickly and see a campus security guard sprinting towards the both of you. Your eyes widen and Cody grabs your wrist. ‘’Canttalknowjustrun!’’ he hisses before sprinting off again with you in tow. You yelp as you’re yanked across campus, in between buildings, and off the grounds entirely. Eventually, you’re yanked into an alleyway and the two of you lean against the wall, panting and gasping for air. You flop your head against your shoulder and stare at him. 

‘’Cody…’’

‘’Y-yeah?’’

‘’What the fuck?!’’

He gulps and looks at you. ‘’I...may have pissed off the security guard.’’

‘’How?’’

‘’I uh-’’ he pauses, looking at you. It’s silent for a few moments and he sighs. ‘’I’ve...been lying to you.’’

‘’Huh?’’

‘’I don’t actually attend your college,’’ he murmurs. ‘’I...graduated years ago. I’m just some- homeless dude who hangs around the campus sometimes for fun.’’

You stare at him. ‘’What...the fuck…?’’ he doesn’t say anything. ‘’Why would you lie to me?!’’

‘’Because I…’’ he shrugs. ‘’I didn’t want you to think less of me...I just wanted you to treat me like anyone else...like- a friend…’’ he sighs. ‘’...I’m sorry…’’

You stare at him for a few moments, then sigh gently. You lean off the wall and pat his shoulder. ‘’I don’t think less of you because of any of this,’’ you murmur. ‘’I’m hurt because- well...I thought you trusted me.’’ His head snaps to you, staring in surprise. ‘’It is weird that you hang around on campus yeah but- you’re not a creep. I know you’re not. You just- wanna be accepted. Right?’’

He pauses, staring at the ground. ‘’...yeah. I do.’’

‘’Then I accept you.’’ you hesitate for a second, then hug him gently. His arms cautiously and gently wrap around you. ‘’And you’re staying with me, okay? I don’t want you on the streets anymore. You don’t need to get hurt.’’

"...okay." he murmurs. "...thanks."

------

"I'm home!"

"Y/n!" Cody rolls over onto his stomach and grins at you from his spot on the couch, which is also basically his bed now. "How was your lecture? Learn anything interesting?"

You shrug off your backpack and walk over to the couch. Cody curls up to make room for you as you sit down. "It was alright." You murmur. Cody shifts around and leans against you, smiling up at you. He's cute, you'll admit. Like an excited puppy. Always happy to see you. You reach over and pat him. He moves his hand up and grabs your hand, squeezing it in his. He stays there for a few moments, staring up at you fondly before he withdraws his hand. 

"Here." he grabs the remote from the other side of the couch using his socked feet, then grabs it with his hands before passing it to you. You take it and lie back, flicking through channels idly. You glance at him. He's still staring at you. 

"You need something?"

He shakes his head. "Nah." He turns back to the tv. "I just like your face."

You smirk. "Thanks. Yours too."

------

"Uuuggghh…"

You sit up and bury your face in your hands. You're stressed. Extremely so. This damn assignment is impossible! You can't figure it out. At all. You're just about ready to give up. 

"Y/n?"

You look up and see Cody crouched near your bed where you're sitting. He looks up at you with his best puppy eyes. "I think you need a break." He murmurs. He reaches up and takes one of your hands in his, pulling it down and tugging it. You sigh, push your laptop away and lie down so you're facing him. 

"Fine." 

He smiles and reaches into his pocket, pulling something out. Your favourite candy bar. "Here," he holds it up to you. "To get your energy back."

You take it and smile. "How'd you know it's my favourite?"

He smiles. "Lucky guess." That's a lie. Definitely. He climbs onto your bed and lays down beside you. You look at him while munching on your chocolate.

"Cody," you ask tiredly. "...what do you do when no matter what you can't find the answer?"

He blinks, then frowns. "I keep going," he answers. "I try to change something every time and peace together the answer. I work outside the box, break the rules…" he frowns and looks down. "...four hundred and twenty three times."

"Huh?"

He looks up at you, surprised. "Oh! Uh- it's nothing. I just remembered this one experiment I did...heh...took me four hundred and twenty three tries to get it right..." he seems suddenly fidgety and- maybe even sad.

"Damn." Your eyes widen. "What was the experiment?"

"...nothing important." He smiles at you. He reaches over and pats your cheek a couple times. "Now, cmere. You're taking your break in cuddle-town."

You squint at him. "...cuddle-town."

"Yep!" He lifts his arm up for you. "Cmonnnn...you know you wannaaaa."

You give him a stern look. Then a smile curls up your face and you laugh. "Alright, alright. I'll bite." you scoot closer to him and let him hug you tight. He smells of chemicals and takeout. It's a weird smell, but welcoming. He hums happily. "...Thanks X."

"No problem." He chirps back, nuzzling his face into your hair.

-------

"You made a mistake."

"Huh?" You're curled up against Cody, doing your homework. Part of your course is a mandatory math class. Ugh. Your back is resting against his front while you do your work. His arms are wrapped around you, hugging you gently. Not the most conventional position for math homework, but a damn comfy one. 

His arm moves from around your hip and points at the paper you're writing on. "You need to multiply here. Not subtract. Then you'll get a minus, but you'll have to change the signs so your answer would be…" he pauses for a moment. "Minus X to the power of four over three Y to the power of six."

You blink and frown for a couple moments. "Oh!" You cross out your mistake and correct it. "Like that?"

Cody nods. "Exactly." His arm winds around you again. You smile a bit.

"How are you so good at math?" You ask. He shrugs.

"Studied my butt off in highschool and learned everything twice as fast as everyone else." He says with a laugh. You snicker.

"Why?"

"Wanted to prove that I could do it." He murmurs. He leans down and presses his face into your hair. He's probably sniffing it but you choose to ignore that because math homework is hard. "...why did you decide to become a scientist?"

"I wanted to help people." You murmur. He hums in thought.

"Why?"

You shrug. "It's the right thing to do, isn't it?"

He's quiet for a moment. "yeah," his hand runs up your stomach. "I guess it is."

-----

"I wanna take you somewhere."

You look up at Cody. "Okay," you say. "Where?"

"...dinner."

"Dinner where?"

"Downtown. Somewhere you like. Somewhere fancy." 

You smirk at him a bit. ‘’Alright...when?’’

‘’Right now. Today.’’

You blink in surprise and look at the clock on the wall, then him. ‘’We’d have to get ready like- right now.’’

‘’Okay.’’ he stands up like it’s nothing. ‘’Go get ready.’’

Cody’s sudden wanting to eat out is odd. He’s always been happy with takeout and your own cooking, so why he suddenly wants to go out is- odd. But you’re not complaining. The restaurant he brings you to is nice, and even though he’s suddenly fidgety and a little on-edge, he’s still his regular, cute self. Spending time with him is something you enjoy deeply. Why else would you have let him live with you? He’s like your best friend- maybe even something more. While the two of you are leaving the restaurant his hand brushes against yours and he ever so carefully entwines his hand with yours. Okay yeah. It’s definitely something more.

Instead of walking home, the two of you end up walking to a nearby park. It’s a peaceful night. A little cold, but Cody’s hand feels warm and comforting. He stops suddenly, and turns to you. You stare at him.

‘’y/n?’’

‘’Yeah?’’

He hesitates. ‘’Do you…’’ he glances aside. ‘’...do you like me?’’ his body language is nervous, but his tone is full of forced confidence. 

‘’Of course I like you.’’ you tilt your head at him. ‘’...you’re acting weird. What’s wrong?’’

He looks surprised for a moment. He quickly collects himself and gulps, glancing aside. ‘’I…’’ he fiddles with his hands. ‘’It’s...nothing, y/n. Just- forget it. I’ll take you home.’’

‘’Wait-’’ you stop and step toward him, grabbing his wrist. He stares at you in surprise. You yank him toward you, intending to pull him into a hug but- you yank too hard and Cody stumbles into you, making you, in turn, stumble backwards into a tree. You’re left leaning against it, with Cody leaning over you, staring down in surprise. It’s deathly silent for a few tense moments before a smile curls up his face. He snorts, then laughs, then falls against you giggling. You slowly crack up with him and reach up, gripping his arms as the two of you giggle at absolutely nothing. He lifts his head up and smiles at you. His face is only inches from yours. He’s so close you can see the lighter speckles in his green eyes and individual strands of his honey-brown hair. His features are soft. Welcoming. ‘’Cody,’’ you murmur. ‘’...I do like you. A lot.’’

‘’Huh?’’ he seems completely taken aback by this. ‘’Really?’’ he doesn’t sound like he quite believes you. You chuckle.

‘’Yes.’’ you smile up at him. Slowly, you reach up and cup his face in your hands. ‘’C’mere…’’ you murmur, pulling him down to you. You close the gap and kiss him gently. He tenses up, a quiet gasp of surprise escaping his mouth. Slowly, he leans into the kiss, kneading against you. He feels warm. Comforting. Safe. You shiver as he reaches down, grabbing your hip with one hand. The two of you pull away and stare at each other. It’s silent. You can feel his warm breath against your face. 

‘’y/n?’’ he breaks the silence. You look up at him. ‘’...I love you.’’

A smile curls up your face. You grab him and pull him down for another kiss. ‘’I love you too.’’ you giggle. He grins and wraps his arms around you, squeezing you tightly. He lifts you up in his arms and nuzzles into your shoulder. You giggle and grip his shoulders as he swings you around until he stumbles and falls back. The two of you yelp out in surprise as you fall onto the grass. Cody is still holding you tight, staring up at you with a wide smile. You smile down at him lovingly and comb your hand through his honey-brown hair. ‘’I love you too…’’ you murmur once more.

[yukisohmasmokesweed]

Thoughts on Shigure??

so many. always. i am constantly having thoughts about shigure. 

so i read fb in 2005/2006 when i was in 5th/6th grade and maybe a few more times throughout middle school. then i didnt revisit the manga again until just after i graduated college and i read it over and over again with the express purpose of understanding shigure. shigure is seriously layered and complex and contradictory and his motivations are not easy to parse out but thats why i love him so much. personally i think shigure is the most interesting character in fruits basket and maybe one of the most realistic. 

on the surface he’s this somewhat goofy, somewhat antagonistic guy. i do think his more comedic side is genuine, and if he hadn’t grown up in the environment he did he might be like that more often. however i also think that it’s somewhat of a facade—or, that he knows that he’s an eccentric and weird guy and uses that to his advantage to confuse people or make himself seem less involved than he is. i think shigure is very aware of how he comes off to others and a lot of what he presents is a curated version of himself. some of the only times in the story that i believe he’s being completely himself are his scenes with hatori, where he tends to be meanspirited as well as self-deprecating. hatori is one of the only people he feels comfortable enough to confide in and hatori knows him well enough that i don’t think the constant jealousy jabs really hurt all that much anymore. side-note: they are GREAT foils. other than the obvious of hatori being an overly-serious straight man to shigure’s too-casual lighthearted shitposting, hatori is also incredibly resigned to his situation as well as being a very genuine person and shigure is very, very motivated and conniving. it’s not as obvious a contrast as tohru and akito (which makes sense as the respective protagonist and antagonist) but i always enjoy their scenes together as two people who grew up together and have a wildly different experience and reaction to the curse.

he’s good at reading other people and can predict how they’re going to react to him. i like how this aspect of his character goes hand in hand with his comedic side and his manipulative side; like, he knows exactly what to say to get the kids riled up in a funny way, like flirting with tohru in full view of yuki and kyo because he knows it’ll get a reaction out of them, but he also knows exactly what to say that will motivate the others to start questioning their roles and drive them away from the sohmas and towards others (namely tohru), like when he neggs kyo about refusing to get to know yuki. shigure is incredibly intelligent and good at reading people, which is definitely a virtue in a family of people who are very secretive and repressed.

another thing i really like about shigure is that his motivations are entirely self-serving and he is totally okay with that. he’s driven by jealousy and selfishness and is incredibly self-aware of that fact. i also think that’s what allows him to manipulate people that he genuinely cares about; he’s got a warped sense of morality and he knows that and doesn’t feel the need to justify his actions because of that. it’s a really interesting way to write a character and an excellent contrast to his partner-in-crime akito, who is maybe the least self-aware person alive and is driven by entitlement and fear. shigure has very few boundaries he won’t cross to get what he wants, even at the cost of hurting himself and the people he loves.

speaking of: shigure cares about the people around him, which i think is one of the most compelling parts of his character. i think his motivation to take yuki in was partially to separate akito from him and start driving a wedge between them, but i also don’t think he would’ve taken in an emotionally damaged teenager if he didn’t care a little bit, even if it was just pity at the time. he loves tohru very much (who wouldn’t) and i find their relationship very sweet. he’s also very much in love with akito even if their relationship is beyond fucked up and unhealthy. he has a lot of love in his heart but he’s also a selfish manipulative dickhead so it’s hard to tell sometimes, but he does.

i’ve always liked shigure but i definitely had to be an adult to fully appreciate him. all of his lines have so many layers to them and his scheming is so subtle and effective that i can watch his scenes 20 times and come away with more every single time. it is also a bonus that he is very hot and sexy and he could come over whenever! i love shigure and he’ll live in my heart forever as the first character i ever got frustrated enough in not understanding that i reread specifically for them and i’m glad i did, he’s incredibly interesting and was actually one of the reasons i started becoming interesting in analyzing media the way i do now.

[ckret2]

how tf do u write sir pen and alastor

Step one: rewatch this and this a million times specifically to focus on how they talk—the way they emphasize words, the cadence and flow of their sentences, pace, sound effects, mood, pitch, tone, etc.

Step two: reread their lines here or here (each one handles the transcript a little bit different—the first one is more comprehensive, the second one more objective, and they disagree on a few words) so that you can more fully absorb things like their vocabulary, length and complexity of sentences, etc.

Step three: keep those pages open constantly so that every couple paragraphs you can refer back to those pages to refresh their voices in your head when you get nervous about drifting too far off the accurate voice of a character who's got less than three total minutes of footage, which will be often.

Now you have their voices in your head.

Step four: Go write their voices!! Here are their voices:

Sir Pentious is pretentious. Alastor sounds like a radio host.

I know, I know, that sounds super obvious.

Sir Pentious will occasionally use vocab & sentence structure that makes him sound old-fashioned and dramatic on par with a parody of a Shakespeare villain. He uses phrases like "[they] dare not hinder [me]" or "the likes of I" or pronouncing "striped" as "stripéd." His vocab isn't wildly complicated—you shouldn't be sending readers running to the dictionary—but nevertheless he sounds intelligent.

Pretend that in his heart he's constantly on the verge of giving a villainous monologue about how his evil plan will let him effortlessly conquer the world, and anything else he's doing—whether it's trying to impress a crush or ordering lunch at a fast food restaurant—is either a practice run for that villainous monologue or a distraction from being able to give it. His casual conversations will have that hint of grandiosity. He's going to be mildly irritated at anything that undercuts his grandiosity—it doesn't have enough style, doesn't have enough class. He'll jump on opportunities to gloat, to talk about his goals & plans, to talk down his enemies—to try to make himself sound good, basically.

And—this is super important—remember that he thinks he's evil and is proud of it. He's not one of those villains who believes he has a just or justifiable cause. He's also not one of those villains who is villainous out of spite/anger/vengeance. He says that he is evil and he is gleeful about it. Don't feel the need to give him sympathetic/understandable/justifiable motives for his actions, because he doesn't think he has any and he doesn't care. He's power-hungry and he's bad and he's having fun. He embraces it. Embrace it when you write him.

Alastor is 100% performative at all times. Imagine that at every moment he's speaking he sees himself as a radio talk show host sitting behind his desk with a packed studio audience and the knowledge that thousands more people are listening live. He's animated and exuberant because he's trying his damnedest at all times to be an entertaining host for that imaginary audience. That's his job: put on a good show for the audience.

So every comment is snappy and interesting, he always sounds upbeat and energetic. When he talks about himself and his own emotions, it never sounds confessional, intimate, or sincere; even if he's talking about something that's genuinely been a heavy psychological weight on him, he doesn't present it like that. He presents it like a guest on a talk show telling the host a funny anecdote about his life, or a comedian telling a story to the audience: even if the anecdote is about something miserable, it's presented as an interesting/entertaining story for the consumption of the audience.

(See: the jokey way he says, "Hahaha, why does anyone do anything? Sheer! Absolute! BOREDOM!" The woe-is-me faux drama when he says "My work became mundane, lacking focus, aimless!" Those straight up sound like two depression symptoms. His voice does not sound depressed.)

So he speaks in anecdotes, one-liners, punchy comments. There's going to be very little "uh-huh" or "mm-hmm" or grunts or sighs or other such wordless sounds—everything he says is going to sound crisp and carefully enunciated for the audience at home trying to listen in over the radio.

(And you can play with that as appropriate: I have his performativeness go down when he's having an actual intimate sincere moment, and I have it crank up wildly when he's uncomfortable, secretive, feeling vulnerable, etc., and he wants to hide that.)

Step five: remember their weird speech quirks!

Hiss! Sir Pentious has got his hiss. Now, listen to me very carefully: if choossse to write Sssir Pentiousss'sss ssspeech ssso that every sssingle sssibilant isss emphasssized jussst like ssso, I ssshall sssneak into your houssse in the middle of the night with a Sssharpie and ssscribble an angry faccce on your forehead.

This is the best essay I have ever read on writing accents. And one of the most important points in it is: don't misspell every word to phonetically match how the character sounds, because it's incomprehensible, silly, and gives readers headaches. That applies to Sir Pentious's hiss.

Now, I feel like you can give him SOME hissing. If there's a word or phrase HE's trying to emphasize—if he's talking Extra Fancy, or if he's spitting an insult at someone, or if he's just being more pretentious than usual. Example: if a hero sneaks into a villain's lair and the villain captures them, the villain might sarcastically say "so nice of you to join us!" When I hear Sir Pentious giving that line I hear his voice jump up on the first word, "so nice of you to join us!" So I could write that as "ssso nice of you to join us!" for that extra emphasis. I wouldn't write it as "ssso niccce of you to join usss!"

Also: you can just not write his hiss at all. That's valid, we'll still hear it in our heads. I don't write his hiss when I'm writing inside of his perspective because he doesn't hear himself doing it.

If you DO write his hiss though, remember that it's not just on the S's. Sometimes he over-emphasizes his H's as well or inserts them where they don't belong. ("hhell will be mine, h'and everyone will know the name of Sir—") That's harder to naturally write into dialogue than the S's, but if you're looking out for opportunities you might naturally stumble across one or two. At least remember to carry the hissed H's in your head.

Radio sounds! Alastor's dialogue is loaded down with radio sound effects—studio audience applause (and different kinds of applause for "applauding a stellar performance" versus "welcoming a guest onto the show"), studio audience laughter, little trumpet sounds, snatches of music, xylophone scales, telegram beeps, drum rolls, the screams of the damned—you know, normal things you might hear on the radio. And less clear things too: a thousand different static sounds, muffled voices like you might hear when passing through stations and getting near but not actually on the right station, garbled humming, little second-long clips of songs he heard earlier.

You don't want to CONSTANTLY talk about the sound effects he's making; but like, also, constantly talk about the sound effects he's making. Strike a balance. Good luck.

Get familiar with sound effects—listen to the radio and pay attention to the sound effects used in bumper messages, listen to the sounds in old game shows, listen to radio dramas, find guides by people who work on sound effects for radio and see what they do, browse sound effect sites to see what kind of categories are listed and that people look for. Alastor shouldn't sound like a radio drama, but you can steal sounds from that. If you can hear a sound but aren't sure what to call it, try looking up lists of similar sound effects for sale and just look at what terms they use in the file names to describe the sounds. (Obviously you don't want to buy a $50 folder containing 500 radio sound effects, but oftentimes you can still see the names of the files.)

And—again, from that essay I linked earlier—the characters don't complain about each other's voices in canon. If someone's going to comment on Alastor's radio noises, there has to be a good reason for it, because it's a divergence from the norm. (Like, I have Sir Pentious commenting on and asking questions about Alastor's radio sounds to show he's curious about/interested in Alastor and how his abilities work on a deeper level than just "oh yeah of course the radio demon makes radio sounds" and to show that he's absolutely not too intimidated by him to risk annoying him—and that's intended as a deliberate exception from the norm, to the extent that Alastor comments on it once.)

Musical numbers! Occasionally Alastor will burst into song. Unless you're desperate to try your hand as a lyricist, I recommend against actually writing full songs for him, for this reason: when we see Alastor's full song in the pilot, it sounds like he's singing, because he is and we can hear it. When we see a full song in a book or a fic, it sounds like somebody's reciting poetry, because we don't know the tune and we can't hear the song in our heads. And "giving a poetry recital" is a very different vibe from "singing a song."

What I do to get around this is, when I think Alastor oughta be singing, I just take a song that actually exists and have him sing that one, and then I can fling the link at readers. Go get familiar with pre-1933 popular songs. I recommend vaudeville and musical theater as easy sources to draw from because it more often tends to be snappy, energetic, and oftentimes humorous, which fits Alastor's vibe. I also don't quote the entire song, just a couple of relevant lines—so that within the fic itself it comes across like dialogue rather than like a poetry recital. If you HAVE to include the whole song, mix it in with actions, description, narration, etc, so that it can still be read as dialogue rather than like a solid block of poetry. He's not just standing in one spot unmoving while he sings, is he? No of course not, he's Alastor. Have him dance and do dumb stuff.

Step six: remember their weird accessories, mention them from time to time.

One of the streams that I don't feel like digging up says that Sir Pentious's hat's facial expressions mirror whatever Sir Pent is currently feeling, even if Sir Pent's own expression is less honest to his true feelings. Personally, I go with that—his hat is always showing his genuine emotions—unless it's off his head, in which case it can have its own separate emotions for a moment (such as: reacting to the fact that it's fallen off its owners head). It's completely psychically connected to him and so it's never going to have a separate/independent reaction to what's goin on, just mirror Sir Pent's. There are other ways to headcanon his hat and so other ways to write his hat but that's the way I do it.

Alastor's microphone cane occasionally talk. In the show we see it do that when Alastor specifically prompts it. We don't know if the cane is its own person or if it's more like a magic ventriloquist doll Alastor talks through in order to banter with himself. I treat it as like, 1/2 a person: it's a direct extension of Alastor, and it's got some low-level intelligence, but like intelligence on the level of a chat bot programmed to try to have conversations with people but that doesn't really think for itself. Since it's an extension of Alastor it doesn't really have any thoughts/knowledge that he doesn't, but it's got a slightly snippier/crankier personality, and it might on very rare occasions say things that Alastor like, knows on a subconscious/instinctive level but is consciously denying. Its primary function is to give Alastor the reply he's looking for when he says something he wants a reply to, or to set him up for a snappy one-liner he wants to make but is unable to make unless someone else says JUST the right thing first. Again, there are other ways to headcanon/write his cane, but that's the way I do it.

Also Alastor has living shadows, one of which might be his own shadow, but like, I always forget about them so I don't do anything with them. It's fine it's cool it only shows up during musical numbers anyway.

Step seven: remember their body language.

Sir Pentious's overall body language is, unsurprisingly, pretty serpentine—he's got some wiggles, he's got some dramatic bends that show off his flexibility—and also rather elegant, or at least making a show of looking elegant. At least when he's busy posing in between doing actual work. And he likes playing with his bow tie.

Alastor's gestures are big and theatrical and his arms are always going everywhere.

However, that's not the part of their body language I want to talk about! That's the normal stuff! I'm here for the weird stuff!

Hood! Sir Pentious's hood is basically always flaring out and flattening down and flaring out and flattening down. (And I do headcanon it as a hood—just fraying along the bottom—not as hair. Every time I see fanart that treats it as hair and they braid it or put it up in a bun or whatever I have a moment where I picture his hood shredded up the length into strips and go "OH GOD, OH GOD.") Like, do not constantly describe every single time his hood flares, because it's every five seconds. But don't leave it out by any means. Pick important moments. Make sure it actually adds to the scene.

Eyes! In canon there's a few shots where we can see that Sir Pent's many many eyes move and blink, and they ten to look toward whatever Sir Pent is focused on. It seems likely that they work. If you want to say they work you totally can. I say they work. If you're gonna say they work, keep in mind what kind of field of view that gives him, and keep in mind what you can do with that knowledge. Like, if he's sitting at a dinner table with someone to discuss some kind of skeevy underground business deal and the other person slowly pulls out a gun under the table and points it at him, he's going to see that gun with his knee-height eyes and be able to kick that dude's whole chair over with his tail. 

Smile! Alastor's single most defining character trait is the fact that he's always smiling. The terrified sinners that named him the Radio Demon should've named him Smiley McSmiles. Therefore, there is no need to tell readers that he's smiling. They'll be like, "of course he's smiling. He's Alastor. We're not stupid." However, it's a good idea to mention from time to time that he's smiling, because like, Alastor's single most defining character trait is the fact that he's always smiling. And when it's that constant, it helps to occasionally bring it up to like, maintain that continuity, maintain that sense of the fact that his smile is always there. So you've gotta strike that balance between "don't just keep telling the readers that Alastor is still smiling because you don't need to tell them that" and "mention his smile from time to time." The way I do that is like, mentioning his smile in conjunction with other things, usually as an indication of his mood. Whereas with other characters you'd show changes in their expression by going "he smiled," "he frowned," "he grimaced in disgust," with Alastor you'd say like "his perpetual smile stretched wider into a more genuine one" or "he pressed his lips together as his smile thinned" or "he fought to keep smiling through the disgust"—that way, you're not telling readers that Alastor is smiling, it's something you're mentioning in the process of telling readers something different and more important about his mood.

Step seven: remember this ain't TV. Keep in mind the difference between how they sound when they’re talking out loud on screen and how they’ll sound when they’re just text in a fic.

To get their voice across, you might have to exaggerate some things in written dialogue that you wouldn’t in spoken dialogue. For instance, Sir Pentious doesn’t always have vocab that makes him sound like a pretentious, sophisticated supervillain. Sometimes he says “No other demon can compare to the likes of I!” but then sometimes he says “You wanna go, missy?” When he says that the latter line in the show, he still sounds pretentious, because his VA is still using his pretentious-sounding voice. In writing, there is no voice. Most readers KNOW what his voice sounds like, and if you’re writing close enough to his voice they’ll be able to hear it; but it’s going to be harder for them to hear it if you have him saying words that go against what his voice sounds like and they aren’t actually simultaneously hearing his voice IRL saying those words.

So, while “You wanna go, missy?” works on screen when we can hear the contrast between his voice and the dialogue, if that scene was written instead, it’d be easier to get his voice across with “Do you want to go, missy?” because it still has the unexpected/humorous casualness of “missy” in there but making the rest of the sentence very formal preserves Sir Pent’s pretentious speaking style.

Step eight: keep in mind that the question I'm answering is "how do you write sir pent and alastor," not "how should sir pent and alastor be written," so feel free to toss out anything that doesn't work for you.

[shitty-marvel-fan732]

Cuddles and Pick Up Lines

Hello all! I present to you an unedited one shot that is my first attempt at writing Peter Parker! If you like it, let me know with a like or reblog! 

“Hey Pete, are you made of copper and tellurium?”, I asked, fingers absentmindedly threading through his chocolate brown locks. Peter hummed lightly in response, eyes shut. 

“Cause you’re Cu-Te”, I grinned. His lips quirked upwards in a small smile briefly before it disappeared. He was still, eyes remaining closed, but he couldn’t fight the small amount of pink that was creeping its way up his neck. He was laying tangled with me as we cuddled on his bed. His head laid softly on my chest, arms wrapped tightly around my waist and legs intertwined with mine. His eyes were closed and his face was beginning to look peaceful.

“Funny”, he muttered sarcastically. My smile widened. 

“I’m serious babe. You must have 11 protons cause you are sodium fine”, I giggled. Peter chuckled lightly, the gentle vibrations across my body prompting me to continue. “I wish I were adenine; that way I could be paired with U”. 

Peter still didn’t open his eyes, but he couldn’t fight the sweet smile that overtook his soft features nor the raging blush covering his entire face. He snuggled his head even further into the crook of my neck in a vain effort to conceal his reaction. The move did little to convince me of his nonchalance-- as I could now feel the heat from his cheeks radiating to my own skin. I shivered unintentionally, and decided to momentarily give up on my playful assault and simply revel in our peaceful embrace.

 Moments like this weren’t uncommon by any means, practically a daily occurrence at this point, but that didn’t diminish my desire to live within this feeling forever. Though I rarely voiced it to Peter, I was perpetually worried that there would be a day he wouldn’t come back to me. A day when I was forced to contemplate life on my own, without these soft cuddles and gentle conversations. A life without Peter. Just the thought of it made my stomach turn and my hands begin to shake. 

At first when I’d found out about my boyfriend’s, shall we say, extracurricular nighttime activities I was a wreck; I was nervous all the time and I distanced myself from him in a pathetic attempt to save my sanity. Eventually I’d come to the realization that being away from Peter was just as bad (if not worse) for my anxiety; now I preferred to cope by throwing myself into my relationship with as much effort as I could. I savored every minute that I got with my sweet boy. Peter, thankfully, was more than relieved at my conclusion and too seemed to relish the time we shared. 

“I love you”, he murmured into the crook of my neck, voice so soft I barely caught it. My heart picked up speed instantly at his gentle admission and my stomach erupted into a flurry of butterflies. It amazed me that after all we've been through, first as friends and then as a couple-- all the sweet moments, each tender word and gentle caress still affected me as profoundly as the first. Instinctively, my arms tightened their grip around my sweet boyfriend and I felt the way Peter’s smile widened against my neck, smug at the reaction he caused. Damned spidey-senses. 

“And I love you bug”, I hummed lightly, fingers returning to their previous ministrations and threading across the wispy curls that littered his forehead. Peter sighed, practically purring at the soft touches. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”, I questioned gently, voice breaking the peaceful silence. It had been clear since the moment I’d met up with him after school that there was something off with Peter. His normally soft brown eyes had lost a little of their natural sparkle, and he was almost eerily quiet. Ordinarily after the last bell I was greeted with the welcome sights and sounds of my eager boyfriend already chattering away about whatever topic, but this afternoon he’d been practically silent. Today I’d had to reach out first to link our hands together, when usually I was barely out of my last class of the day before he was already latched to my side. The usual easy flow of conversation between us had been strained, the majority of speaking coming from me with only sparse hums of acknowledgement from Peter. Rather than pressure him for an explanation, I’d simply guided us toward his apartment and immediately pulled the troubled boy down onto his bed for cuddles once we'd arrived. We’d laid wrapped up together for a while, and now that I was more confident in his headspace I was hopeful for some answers for his very un-Peter-like behavior. He groaned. 

“You’re gonna think it’s stupid”, he muttered. My fingers abruptly stopped their gentle dance within his chocolate locks at his statement, brows furrowing. I softly pulled his face from its hiding spot in the crook of my neck and looked him directly in the eyes. 

“Peter, something that bothers you could never be stupid to me”, I scolded lightly. He sighed once more, eyes closing once more as he practically shoved his face back into my side. 

“I think it’s stupid”, he grumbled stubbornly. I remained silent, patiently waiting for him to continue. 

“It’s just...I overheard Flash and some of his friends talking last period about me- about Spiderman. Stuff like how he- how I’m just some loser in spandex trying to be the next Iron Man. How I didn’t even do anything important for anyone, and that I’d be forgotten by next year. Just got in my head I guess”, he mumbled, voice trailing off near the end. 

My heart practically tore in two at the defeat and hurt that laced Peter’s soft voice. No wonder he’d been so off. 

“Oh my sweet boy”, I sighed, tucking him tighter against my body protectively. “I’m so so sorry Pete. But you have to know that they're just jealous, teenage morons right?”. 

“I mean...yeah. I guess”, he whispered near inaudibly. 

“But?”, I probed gently, sensing that there was more. Peter sighed again, this time more aggressively than before as he abruptly sat up and rested his head against the wall behind us. 

“It’s just so freaking hard!”, he exclaimed, hands flying wildly to demonstrate his frustration. “I mean, I work so hard and I give up so much for this city and for what? Assholes like them? I sacrifice an honest relationship with May, time I could be spending with you, and just a normal freaking existence, all for people who don’t even care! For all the cops who try to arrest me whenever they see me, all the criminals that don't even take me seriously, and idiots like Flash and his friends who will never understand what I do for them. It sucks that to know I'm hurting people close to me over it too, like, I know May knows something is different and that it hurts her that I won't tell her, ya know? And you, you're anxious all the time because you're worried about me. I mean, you almost even left me because of Spiderman, and yet I still stick with it like the idiot I am hoping that I make a difference to this city. It just feels so pointless sometimes”.

By the end of his small rant his face was almost entirely covered in red and pink splotches and his eyes began to water with unshed tears. Typically I was the person who always seemed to know what to say; friends and family often came to me with their issues because I was admittedly pretty good at talking people off the ledge and comforting them. But in this moment I felt my brain nearly shut down at Peter's broken expression. What could I, or anyone for that matter, say? Peter was right, his life wasn't fair. It hurt me deeply to think about what went on in his head everyday, all the responsibilities and pressure that was thrust upon him. I'd always been amazed at Peter's ability to remain so sweet and kind despite the things he's seen and been through, and his outburst today only confirmed just how difficult it was for him to maintain his demeanor with his new obligations. I sucked in a breath through my teeth and opened my arms to him once more in invitation. Peter willingly allowed himself to lay across my chest once more, arms encircling me tightly and head resting under the tip of my chin. 

"I've been circling around in my head all afternoon, trying to figure out why I even care what they think. I mean, I didn't become Spiderman for people to like me. I started because I thought people in this neighborhood deserved to feel safe. I do it to protect you, and May, and Ned, and Mr. Delmar, and anyone else that calls this place home. But even so, to hear them say those things so casually and out loud just…", he sniffed, and I began to rub his back slowly as I felt his tears begin to soak through the thin fabric of my t-shirt. 

"Hurts", I supplied quietly. Peter nodded against my chest and sniffled. I pressed my cheek to the crown of his head, leaving a soft kiss in my wake. I breathed in the comforting scent of his shampoo deeply before pulling back from his embrace and taking his face in my hands. I bored my own gaze into his puffy, reddened eyes and rubbed small circles over his still tense jawline. 

"Bug, there is nothing that I can say or do that'll make that pain go away, not completely, and for that I'm so sorry. But what I can tell you is how incredibly proud I am of you. Not just as Spiderman, I'm proud of you: Peter Benjamin Parker, because you are the sweetest, kindest, smartest, and most selfless person I have or will ever have met. You take so much on your shoulders everyday that I can't even begin to imagine, and you're right. Sometimes it does suck, and there will always be people like those assholes that make you feel like it's all for nothing, but they're wrong”, I began, voice already shaking with emotion and eyes filling with tears. Peter’s eyes darted downward, expression doubtful. Frowning, I placed my fingers under his chin, yanking his face back level with mine. 

“I’m serious Peter. You do so much for so many people, and I'm honestly amazed by you every single day. You know as well as I do that those people you've helped will never forget you, and that you matter to them. You matter to me, and to May, and to Ned, and MJ, and your teachers, and to Tony, and to everyone you meet because as soon as you open that cute little mouth of yours people can't help but love you. The fact that you even care about what they think is just a testament to how kind-hearted and genuine you are as a person”, I continued. 

Peter’s tears were still falling steadily, but the way his eyes remained focused on me and hands had steadied in my own lead me to throw in one last plea. 

“And, just for the record, if you ever decide one day that you don't want to be Spiderman anymore, I'll still be here. Because Spiderman may be this city's superhero, but you're my hero. I love you Peter, never ever forget that". 

I choked a little on the final word, hot tears that had gathered in my eyes early on in my little speech finally beginning to fall. Peter's eyes never left mine as I spoke, and though he had stopped crying there were still tear tracks visible, marring the soft skin of his cheeks. He didn't hesitate long after I finished speaking, placing his hands roughly on my hips and closing the small gap between our bodies with the speed only a superhuman could. His lips attached immediately to mine, moving with an urgency that took me by surprise. 

Generally speaking, Peter was exactly how he seemed: sweet, gentle, and a little bit timid-- especially when it came to intimate moments. I found it adorable how he was typically so gentle and tender with me, but the way he was kissing me now made my entire body feel as though it had caught fire. His mouth was pressed against mine so hard that it was almost painful, and his normally gentle fingers were squeezing my hips roughly. Somewhere beneath the Peter-induced fog that had completely taken over my brain, I briefly considered the fact that there would more than likely be bruises there later. Somehow, the thought only made the fire in my body burn hotter. I reciprocated with fervor, trying desperately to convey my sincerity and adoration for Peter through my touch. I moaned unintentionally into his mouth as his tongue roamed freely in mine, causing his lips to quirk into a smug smirk against my own. 

Eventually I reluctantly pulled away from the frenzied embrace, breathing heavy and forehead resting on Peter’s. Peter, however, was having none of this; he pulled gently away from my leaning head and began placing sweet kisses to my cheeks. I sat and caught my breath,  reveling in the feeling of my boyfriend’s soft lips against my skin. After a while, Peter slowed his loving assault and leaned back against the wall, pulling my body into his chest. I sighed, snuggling deeper into his side in a mirrored image of the way we’d laid only minutes before.

“I love you”, Peter mumbled, lips leaving yet another kiss to the top of my head. “Thank you”. 

“Anytime Pete. Literally, anytime”, I replied softly before placing a soft kiss to his collarbone. Peter chuckled, the feeling reverberating through our linked bodies. I raised my head to look him in the eyes, and quirked my own brow in silent question. 

“Nothing, it’s just..”, Peter started, chuckling once more. I furrowed my brow even more. 

"Only you would not only know a whole bunch of nerdy pickup lines, but use that strange collection of knowledge to cheer me up”, he finished, grinning wildly down towards me. I felt my face flush. 

“Oh shut up, you know you love it”, I grumbled. 

I felt his chest shake with yet another bout of laughter, and I responded by childishly shoving my head deeper into his chest with a small huff of embarrassment. Eventually the shaking slowed and stopped. Peter’s strong fingers hooked under my chin, forcing my head up to face his own. I began to protest, but the words died out in my throat when I saw the way Peter was looking down at me. At first, I noted with a twinge of pride how his cheeks were still pink and flushed looking and his lips red and swollen from our previous antics-- his hair was beautifully mussed (thanks to me), but it was the look in his eyes that truly made my heart flutter. When I’d first met up with him this afternoon his eyes had lost the sparkle they held now, his coffee brown irises were as dull as I’d ever seen and exuded his discomfort and sadness. Now, he was smiling so widely that he had crinkles on the edges of his eyes and his eyes held nothing but love and mischief. It was the spark of love and sweetness that screamed of Peter. 

“I do”, he stated softly. “I love you y/n/n. So much”.

 My heart fluttered, and I was overwhelmed with affection for the loveable dork. I lunged forward and captured Peter’s lips with my own once more; this kiss was different than the previous. This kiss was sweet, loving, and packed with emotion. Eventually, I pulled slowly back from Peter and rested my head on his shoulder once more.

“I love you too Bug. More than you know”, I murmured. Peter hummed in response, arms wrapping tighter around my form. 

“I do have one question though”, he mentioned nonchalantly. 

“What’s that?”, I replied. 

“Are you into chemistry?”, he wondered thoughtfully. I raised an eyebrow, head moving slightly to look questioningly at Peter. 

“Uh, I’m more of a physics girl I guess?”, I answered, confusion lacing my tone. “Why do you ask?”. 

“Because I LAB you”, he stated proudly, face splitting into a wide grin.

[letterboxd]

Grand Gestures.

Casually breaking new ground for the rom-com genre, writer-director Natalie Krinsky tells Dominic Corry about creating her quietly revolutionary new film The Broken Hearts Gallery—while leading man Dacre Montgomery reveals his Letterboxd habits.

“Good, bad, ugly. The whole lot. I love reading the bad reviews. I’m all about it.” —Dacre Montgomery

An antidote to 2020 malaise if ever there was one, the upbeat, emotionally frank and unapologetically sentimental new big-screen romantic comedy The Broken Hearts Gallery is here to lift your spirits and mend your broken heart.

Blockers and Bad Education star Geraldine Viswanathan leads the film as Lucy, a New York art gallery assistant prone to hoarding physical memorabilia from past relationships. After being dumped and fired in quick succession, Lucy meet-cutes Nick (Stranger Things break-out Dacre Montgomery), an aspiring hotelier with a large empty space on his hands, in which Lucy decides to stage the titular pop-up exhibition, filled with objects representing lost loves.

Proving there are still plenty of new places to go in the well-worn rom-com genre, Krinsky’s film is generating passionate responses on Letterboxd, where fans are celebrating its contemporary sensibility. “Refreshingly modern,” writes Anne. “Diversity is easily achieved and there’s really no heteronormativity. People are just people, love is just love, and that’s what wins me over.”

“Definitely a very 2020 film,” writes Jovi. “It couldn’t have been written in the same way even ten years ago. It captures being in your twenties in the modern day perfectly.” “Bloody loved the female empowerment and the unconventional narrative and characters,” enthuses Meg.

Geraldine Viswanathan and Dacre Montgomery in ‘The Broken Hearts Gallery’.

Reading through the reviews, the most common reaction is praise for how unapologetically inclusive the film is, in a way that feels appallingly novel for a mainstream film. As Krinsky explains it, “I wanted to make a film that was reflective of the world that I see around me and the world that these characters would inhabit if they lived amongst us mortals.” Or, as Montgomery casually states, “I think it’s where we’re at in 2020 with casting and stuff.” The ease with which the film does this indicts most of modern cinema for its lack of representation.

Krinsky’s inclusive casting and characterization decisions stretch across the entire cast, encompassing that essential feature of modern rom-coms: the quirky ‘best friend’. As well as lending authenticity and personality to the leading characters’ lives, the bestie is often where the ‘com’ in rom-com comes in. The Broken Hearts Gallery has an abundance of quirksters, from Lucy’s roommates (who include Hamilton’s Phillipa Soo as saucy, serial heartbreaker Nadine) to Nick’s straight-talking BFF Marcos (a very funny Arturo Castro).

But the chemistry between the central couple is everything in romantic comedies, and The Broken Hearts Gallery benefits greatly from its fresh-faced, emerging-star leads, both of whom are Australian. “We had a rapport with each other much faster maybe than usual,” Montgomery says of his and Viswanathan’s shared background. “I haven't worked with an Australian actor or actress overseas so that was really nice. She’s a wildly talented, comedic actress. It was my first foray into this sort of genre. I was sort of shit-scared and she’s really held my hand through it.”

Geraldine Viswanathan and director Natalie Krinsky.

Krinksy, likewise, was blown away by Viswanathan’s talents, having seen her work in Blockers and Hala. “She does this great physical comedy in Blockers, and then in Hala, she plays this really vulnerable, dramatic teenage role. I was so taken by her ability to pull both of those completely different parts off. I just immediately had this feeling, which I hadn’t ever had before, of: ‘this is Lucy’. She’s got this comedic timing that is very much like Lucille Ball, it’s got this effervescence to it. She’s able to do so much without saying a word. And then she opens her mouth and it’s a gift.”

It’s no small thing for Viswanathan to have been cast as Lucy. Many an actor’s career has been made by a leading role in a romantic comedy, and—current industry upheaval notwithstanding—Viswanathan looks set to break out even further with her performance here. Montgomery’s and Krinsky’s enthusiasm for her work echoes a central theme in The Broken Hearts Gallery: when Montgomery first met with writer-director Krinsky about the film, she told him the story was somewhat inspired by the idea of seeing men support women in their careers, as Nick does with Lucy. “That was a big thing for me,” he explains, “because I have a lot of really strong women in my life that have supported me—my partner, my mum, my grandmother, so on and so forth.”

Those who know Montgomery from Stranger Things will be interested to learn why he pivoted to romantic comedy. He tells us he was looking for something diametrically opposed to his break-out performance in that show. “As a viewer, I love comedy. As an actor, can’t think of anything scarier. I function in this realm of ‘plan, prepare, do everything the way I know’. The great thing about this was it was ever-evolving. It really did force me to come out of my comfort zone.” (Montgomery will pivot again for his next role, which he says is “kind of a dream role. I can’t speak about it now… Again, it’s 180 degrees in the other direction, so it is a wild ride.”)

Krinsky is also switching things up, career-wise. The Broken Hearts Gallery is her first feature film, after cutting her teeth in television writers’ rooms (Gossip Girl, Grey’s Anatomy, 90210). She credits that environment for training her to fix storytelling problems on the fly. A story a decade in the making, Broken Hearts came from her own romantic aspirations and fears. “I had had many conversations like [the one Lucy has early in the film with Max (Utkarsh Ambudkar), where he dumps her after telling her she’s ‘a blast’]. So that certainly came from my life. I’d been fired from my job. I was moving apartments and I was going through the detritus of these past relationships and kind of trying to figure out what I was going to keep and what I was going to hold on to. You kind of pepper in those things [that are] reflective of relationships in your twenties.”

‘The Broken Hearts Gallery’ director Natalie Krinsky.

Going into the film, Krinsky was very conscious of trying to set it apart from rom-coms that have come before. “Making a good romantic comedy is actually quite difficult because it’s so well-trodden, and because there are beats that we want. We want to cheer for two people falling in love. Because of that, my philosophy going into this was very much centered around Lucy. We’ve seen a lot of romantic comedies in the past where we see a woman trying to fit herself into a mold in order to be with someone and ultimately realizing, ‘Oh, that mold isn’t who I am’. Lucy is a character who certainly has her foibles and has her anxieties and has her eccentricities, but she consistently asks the world to love her because she is weird, not despite the fact that she is weird. That messaging was really important to me.”

In another case of the film gently nudging the rom-com genre forward, it acknowledges how ridiculous grand romantic gestures can be, but still manages to include a few. Krinsky believes there is room for grand gestures in real life. “I certainly hope so. I would like a grand gesture every once in a while—wouldn’t we all? We deserve it. I’m a little bit hopelessly romantic in that way. And I will say I like the surprise. To be able to just, show up home and say, ‘I was walking around today and I saw this cactus. And I thought of you. And here it is.’ Maybe that’s not so grand, but it’s the gesture at least.”

We note that another unique aspect of The Broken Hearts Gallery is the feeling that it doesn’t seem like it’s going to live or die on whether or not the two main characters end up together. “I think they both needed to confront a little bit of who they were,” Krinksy agrees. “Which I always think is the truth about really falling in love, is that in order to have a good relationship, you need to have a good one with yourself first.”

Clearly a huge fan of the genre, we ask Krinsky to recommend her favorites from the canon. “I love some of our recent classics. When Harry Met Sally is a perfect romantic comedy. Bridget Jones’s Diary is a perfect romantic comedy. I love Clueless—even though it’s more com than rom. And then I really love some of the older ones. Broadcast News is one of my all time favorites. Going back even further two of my go-tos that hold up today are His Girl Friday and It Happened One Night. Those two, especially if you’re talking about the ‘strong female lead’, they held them in spades and that fast quippy dialogue I just really live for.”

Montgomery, meanwhile, turns out to be somewhat of a cinephile, something he cultivated as a teenager in the Australian suburbs. “I worked at McDonald’s and I spent all my money on going to [electronics and DVD store] JB Hi-Fi. That’s my childhood in a nutshell. Growing up, I was either at the cinema or in my room and spending all my money on DVDs. All my friends worked at video stores. That was kind of my jam.”

And then—mic drop—Montgomery casually shares the news that he has a secret Letterboxd account. Yes, dear reader, it appears that Dacre is a full-on ’boxd-head. “Oh yeah. I mean, that’s why I was so happy that this [interview] was coordinated. Other than obviously having a chance to talk to you just in general to chat about the platform, it’s a combination of a couple of things that I’m going to put quickly in a couple of words: obviously you can create watchlists on Disney+, Netflix and so on. But then you’ve got so many bloody platforms, all of your lists are in different spaces and all of your movies are spread out on different platforms.

“For me, the biggest role for [Letterboxd] is I can formulate everything in one place, on one platform and look at it. It’s just got so … much … stuff. If I’m up for a horror movie, but I want it set in the snow, I can log on there and it’s, like, The Thing, Hold The Dark. All these great movies. Which I love. And I can read reviews of them before or after.”

Montgomery’s partner is also on Letterboxd, as is his childhood best friend. “Every time we leave the cinema, he gets on Letterboxd and writes a review—his honest, immediate reaction to what he’s just seen. It’s the first thing he does. It’s a great outlet for him. He’s had filmmakers reach out to him, which is another lovely thing. I think a lot of the arts and creative community is actually active on that platform. My buddy just spent the $20 for the year thing and now he can see what his top actors are that he watches, what’s his most-watched decade. I love that sort of stuff. I’m such a cinephile, to be able to collate everything into one sort of succinct thing—that’s my dream.”

Naturally, we ask Montgomery to represent his home country and name-check some Aussie films and filmmakers. “Obviously I’m still quite young, but a lot of cinema like Felony, The Rover, Animal Kingdom, that whole sort of genre, like all the David Michôd films. That sort of realm, I loved growing up. Baz Luhrmann’s films, obviously. Don McAlpine, Australian cinematographer. Bruce Beresford. There’s such an amazing pedigree of actors as well, most recently, obviously the Edgertons [Joel and Nash], Ben Mendelsohn, Heath, obviously, and Naomi Watts and Nicole Kidman.”

Curious to learn more about why a bona-fide star would lurk on Letterboxd where his own performances are ranked, rated and reviewed, we ask Montgomery: what does he get out of it? “I don't have this in-built bias or expectation, even though you’d think I would to kind of go, ‘Why didn’t they like that?’ I love reading the bad reviews. I’m all about it. I’m just interested to see what they engaged with. I think that’s the great thing about Letterboxd as opposed to any other platform is that I can just kind of log in under my alias and read everyone’s uninhibited dialogue that’s come out just after they’ve seen the film. And I love that. Good, bad, ugly. The whole lot. I think it’s the coolest thing ever.”

So then, the final, obvious question: has he been reading the Broken Hearts reviews? “I love to look up the Broken Hearts Gallery page. I think people are just enjoying this level of escapism. If they had the ability to go to a drive-in or to the cinema, wherever they are, people are just kind of going ‘it was so nice to get out of my house and out of my head’. It’s what any cinema tries to do, that level of escapism. I think it couldn’t have come at a better time. Once it’s done its cinematic release, it’ll be on streamers and then people can have that level of escapism who weren’t able to go to the cinema, so that’s really nice.”

Prepare yourself for The Broken Hearts Gallery by checking out this extremely thorough Letterboxd list of romantic comedies, expand your romantic comedy horizons with this list of South Korean rom-coms, and get a feel for where Letterboxd members are at, rom-com-wise, with this romantic comedy showdown.

‘The Broken Hearts Gallery’ is in theaters where possible. Dacre Montgomery’s first book of poetry will be released in October. Comments have been edited for clarity and length.

[jorrmungandr]

2019 was a good year for games.

Lots of interesting new ideas in the space, and some refinements of old ones. Here’s a list of my personal favorite games of this year, in no particular order. Making an ordered list can be fun, but it’s ultimately pretty pointless.

Video games are such a diverse medium at this point that it’s really like comparing apples and oranges. How does Baba Is You stack up against Dragon Quest XI S? They have almost nothing in common, and their aims are so different that it makes no sense to compare them directly.

Speaking of….

Baba Is You

There are a lot of indie puzzle games out there. Making a little mind-bending puzzle is something that’s easy to do on a relatively small budget. There are also a lot of games that mimic old pixel art aesthetics of earlier game systems, to greater and lesser success. Making a truly great puzzle game, though, is a true accomplishment. Something that combines a wildly different array of elements in interesting ways, but maintains a simple readability that allows you to return to puzzles after months away and instantly recognize what’s going on.

Baba Is You is a game that accomplishes this and more. It operates on very simple, basic rules, but the way they escalate over time and require you to think outside more and more boxes with every single puzzle is simple astounding. A lot of puzzle games escalate their difficulty so quickly that it’s easy to get discouraged, put off by the impossible tasks you’re being asked to perform. Where Baba shines is that it gives you a perfect runway, teaching you things slowly but surely through a series of challenges.

This is a game where you will instantly go from feeling like the world’s greatest super-genius to a complete and utter fool in a matter of moments, from finishing one stage to starting the next. Over and over again, for dozens and dozens of levels. No game has ever better demonstrated the value of brain rest, stepping away from a problem and letting your subconscious work on it for a while. Every time I came back to a puzzle after a couple hours, I would suddenly see some option I never saw before.

One final note, the graphics are actually a perfect fit for this game. A lot of times, pixel art feels like a gimmick, something to do when you don’t have a good idea, or just mindless nostalgia-baiting. But here, it serves a gameplay purpose, giving you an absolutely clean view of the elements in play at a glance, and also serves as an homage to the simple-yet-challenging puzzle games of those older eras.

Code Vein

And now, for something completely different: An extremely anime-styled souls-like. I remember hearing about this game years and years ago, and thinking that it looked kinda… bad. But, in the meantime they really brought it all together into something fun, if not very innovative.

Code Vein is exactly the sort of thing I look for in a souls-like: it takes the basic formula and adds some new mechanics to it, and has an identity of its own. Instead of a medieval fantasy world, it’s a post-apocalyptic modern city crawling with vampires and zombies. It takes inspiration from stylish, gothic anime of the past couple decades: Code Geass, Blood+, Tokyo Ghoul, etc. The character creator is extremely detailed, but mostly when it comes to clothes and accessories.

The gameplay is… fine. It’s balanced around always having an AI companion, so they can throw bigger groups of enemies at you. It doesn’t require the same sort of intense caution of the Souls series, but that makes it more of a fun, casual experience. At least until you’re fighting a boss, then it suddenly requires you to really be on your game with dodging. If I have one complaint, it’s that the difficulty is incredibly bumpy, some areas are a cake walk and others have you struggling through every encounter.

Oh, also the area aping Anor Londo from Dark Souls. Not because it’s derivative, that’s totally fine, but because it’s a maze where everything looks the same and it’s a real pain to get through. Souls games are at their best when areas have good landmarks and make a kind of logical sense. Earlier in the game you pass through a big parking garage, and it’s perfect, just the sort of thing that translates well to this kind of game. But this cathedral-ish area… it just sucks.

It really is quite shameless.

Overally, it’s just a solid souls-like. I enjoyed the crunchy RPG elements, switching classes and balancing your weapons and armor to get good mobility and damage. The ability to just equip cool-looking attack moves as skills you can use, like spells in Souls games, is something I’d really like to see in more games in this sub-genre.

Fire Emblem: Three Houses

I was kind of skeptical about this game before it came out. Mostly because it was bringing back weapon durability, a mechanic I’ve always hated in these games, but that ended up being a non-issue. Also the school setting made me a bit wary, thinking it was just gonna end up being some Persona-esque thing where you spend tons of time on mundane nonsense while an actual war is going on.

That was all baseless, it turns out. They balance the idea of a military academy with a traditional Fire Emblem structure remarkably well, giving you a lot of freedom around what you want to do when you play the game. You can run around the monastery talking to students, managing your relationships, or you can just do a ton of tactical battles if you want.

The storytelling was remarkably good, though I feel like it was harmed a bit by the weird way it handled multiple routes with different big mysteries. Some routes ended up completely ignoring or just not getting around to some pretty major mysteries. I’m a person who likes long games, but expecting someone to go through all four routes to figure out what’s going on is a bit much.

But more than that, the way it holds back certain reveals hurts the writing in other ways. The actual revelations can’t really have any effect on the characters and their relationships because it all happens at the very end of the game. It keeps the world feeling a bit flat, without any reactions. The mysteries feel extraneous to the plot, in a weird way, when they are so important to certain characters’ identities and the core conflicts that drive the second half of the game.

The gameplay is okay, though a few of the maps are way too big. The portable Fire Emblem games reigned in the map sizes from the old NES and SNES ones, which was a great thing. But now we’re back to moving a whole army one unit at a time for multiple turns just to get to the next group of enemies. The class system was fun to engage with, balancing learning different skills to open up new opportunities, but the gender-limited classes were a real disappointment. Why can’t men ride pegasi? Why can’t women punch good? It’s bizarre, and honestly felt like it had some stuff left over from early drafts, like the pointless dark mage classes.

This has been a lot of complaining about a game I played for close to a hundred hours. Why is this game even on my list? Because the characters are fucking fantastic, and on a basic level the tactical battles are a lot of fun. It offers a paternalistic form of power fantasy, fostering and guiding your children-warriors and then seeing them destroy your enemies. It is just incredibly satisfying to play. And for all that the mysteries end up a bit frustrating, they are intriguing, and do a good job of motivating you to get through a very lengthy game.

Bloodstained: Ritual of the Night

Ah, love a good IGAvania.

This was a year where I really reached for comfort food games a lot, and this is maybe the king of that category. It’s just an old style of game that doesn’t get made anymore, done extremely well by the guy who used to make ’em all the time. Nothing super different or innovative, just the same old thing with a couple new tweaks.

It’s an easy game, but that’s entirely by design. It’s about running around this castle killin’ monsters, collecting new abilities, just exploring and poking around the corners. It’s a game that is, ultimately, designed to be comfortable. And in a time of such strife in the world around us, what could be better?

Disco Elysium

There’s already been a lot written about this game, tons of praise heaped on its writing and its interesting, hauntological world that is so similar to our own, and yet so different. Frankly, I’m really glad I got turned into this before it even came out, if I heard all that overblown praise I’d never have ended up actually sitting down and playing it.

Here’s what I’ll say: This game is a look at an ugly world, and it gives you a lot to think about, but it actually doesn’t take itself too seriously. There are a ton of extremely funny moments, a lot of straight-up goofy-ass jokes. This is not medicine that you have to suffer through, just take it as it comes and it’s a good time. This is what allows its writing to really land, it’s not lecturing you from on high, it’s engaging on a lower, more personable level.

It’s also not some super serious text that you have to pore over and consider extremely closely at every moment. It’s a game, you can save scum and try to exploit mechanics and look up answers to mysteries. Much like Souls games, people come up with all sorts of weird rules about the “proper” way to play games like this, but in the end your experience is up to you.

One final note: the game does start off with a kind of off-putting ironic tone. Some people try to downplay this, but it’s there. I can only say this: if you give this game a chance, you’ll be rewarded. It is worth getting through a few sarcastic jabs to get to the good stuff later on. It’s not some perfect audio-visual experience that will entrance you from the opening moments to the credits, it’s just a video game.

Dragon Quest XI S

I first played Dragon Quest XI last year on PC, and I enjoyed it a lot! But I didn’t actually finish that version, not really. I put a lot of time into, but ultimately burned out on the grind towards the very end.

The form that games come in is very important to how they are experienced. Dragon Quest games work best as portable games, I truly believe. It also helps that this version on the switch added the ability to speed up regular battles, so you don’t have to sit through some long attack animations over and over. The more important aspect, though, is simply the ability to pick it up and put it down more easily.

Sitting down at my PC, plugging in my controller, and pulling up a game is a subtly labor-intensive thing. It means I’m devoting a lot of attention to a game, and it has to do something to earn that on a moment-to-moment basis. The ability to just push a single button on the switch and get back into means that I’m willing to forgive a lot more down time.

Anyway, the game itself: this is not just a very good Dragon Quest game, it is the ultimate Dragon Quest game. It truly shows the value in iteration over pure innovation, taking all sorts of different mechanics and ideas from past games in the series and bringing them all together in one big package. But it doesn’t feel overstuffed, it’s just doing the same thing these games have always done, just really, really well.

Dragon Quest XI successfully pays tribute to the older games in the series while also telling a new story with entertaining twists and turns, and fun and interesting characters. It’s beautiful, everything runs smoothly, the writing is charming and light. It’s not on the same level as Disco Elysium, but it’s not aiming for that sort of thing. It’s a fairy tale, a fable, a reflection of the world in a different sense.

A lot of game critics missed this game because it’s long. And that is absolutely fair, it’s hard to fit a 100-hour game into a review schedule in this day and age. But it’s an absolute gem, a truly wonderful experience from beginning to end. I’d recommend it to anyone who just wants a game to relax with at the end of the day.

Monolith: Relics of the Past

Like some sort of Christmas miracle, there was an expansion pack released for one of my favorite roguelikes on Christmas day, just last week.

Monolith is the best twin-stick shooter roguelike, I will make no bones about it. Forget your Gungeons and your Bindings of Isaac, this is a classic NES-styled game with an absolutely pitch-perfect aesthetic and sense of humor. It serves both the twin-stick shooting and the roguelike parts of its genre perfectly, giving you a strong basic weapon to rely on, and also a guarantee of something more interesting but random in every run.

Man, there are games that I enjoy more, but I really, truly feel that this is one of the best-crafted games of the past few years. And this expansion only made it better: fixing up the UI and tooltips to make things more clear, rebalancing the weapons so that they are all useful, adding more variety to runs.

I’m not the best at Monolith, it took me quite a while to get a full win, but that doesn’t make it any less fun to play. In my youth, I was really quite good at bullet-hell games, but nowadays those reflexes aren’t there. It’s a game designed for people who can dodge endless bullet curtains, and also, now more than ever, for those who struggle with it.

It’s truly inspiring to see something that takes from the past and the present and fuses it together into something so wonderful. There are other games that really capture the NES aesthetic and sensibility, like Odallus or The Messenger, but this one really gets the spirit of that whole era of games. It is at once light and airy, and also punishingly difficult. It offers tricks and outs, but also remains utterly mysterious and intimidating.

And that’s it. There are more games I enjoyed this year, like the remake of Link’s Awakening, but these are the big ones that stick out in my mind.

There are a lot of big narrative-heavy games I never got around to finishing, or even starting. It just doesn’t really fit with how I play games these days, listening to podcasts and aiming to relax, not engage with something on a deep level.

That’s okay, though. I’ll get around to ’em in the fullness of time.

Games of the Year 2019 2019 was a good year for games. Lots of interesting new ideas in the space, and some refinements of old ones.

[reidandwrite]

Professor Reid (Spencer Reid)

Overview - In which Spencer has his girlfriend guest lecture his class.

A/N: Requested! Sorry this is a little shorter than some of my others. Also, I was reading some of my other stories and there are some grammatical/spelling errors :( I apologize, I do most of my writing between 2am and 6am so by the time I finish I’m too tired to catch those mistakes!

*(Y/F/N) - your first name, (Y/L/N) - your last name

“I don’t know, should I stay with this white blouse or change into that other purple one I have? The one I wore to Tara’s birthday dinner?” I stare at myself in the mirror and inquire my boyfriend for help as he’s getting dressed for the day, as well. 

“(Y/N), you look perfect in that white one, I promise. Why are you stressing so hard about your outfit,” he chuckles as he fiddles with his tie. I turn around to see him tying it up crookedly. I giggle and walk up to him, untying the tie and starting it over again for him- straight, this time.

“Spence, I’m about to be in front of 50 college students staring at me. I want to look professional but not too uptight. Some of these young people nowadays are so judge-y,” I give a slight chuckle and shake my head as I finish off his tie. “You know how nervous I get in front of groups of people; hell, I get antsy when we have to deliver the profile to police stations.”

“You’ll do fine, there is no doubt in my mind about that,” he smiles before giving me a soft kiss on my forehead. “Thank you again for coming to guest lecture to my class today.”

“Well it seems you have enough confidence in me for the both of us.” I smile and walk over to the mirror to examine myself one last time. I’m wearing black slacks, black heels with red bottoms, and a white blouse with a v-neckline and long, belle sleeves. I can hear Spencer fumbling with something in the kitchen and assume he’s filling up our to-go coffee mugs. 

“Let’s get going babe, we don’t want to be late,” Spencer pops his head back into the bedroom. I nod and grab my coat and purse from the foot of the bed and follow Spencer to the front door of our apartment. 

                                                              * * *

I bounce my knee wildly as I sit in the passenger seat of Spencer’s car. After pulling into a parking spot right in front of a big, grey building, he turns off the car and turns to me. Without a word, he gives me a reassuring smile and places his hand on my knee, calming it from its previous hopping motion. I take a breath and nod my head before opening up the car door and lifting myself out. I sling my bag over my shoulder and follow Spencer to the entrance of the building in front of us.

We’re walking through the hall for only about 15 seconds before I hear a student give a warm, “Hi Doctor Reid!” A minute later, two more students give my boyfriend the same greeting. Spencer smiles and waves awkwardly in response as he continues walking quickly towards the lecture hall.

“Wow, someone is pretty popular,” I give a small smile and nudge him gently.

“No, I think it’s just because I’m a little younger than most of their other professors; they probably just feel more comfortable with me,” he shrugs slightly. I let out a vague giggle and follow him through the door and into the lecture hall. I see that most of the lecture hall seats are filled up and can’t help but notice that 75% of the students are girls. Together, we walk through the seats and to the front of the class and set our bags down on the large table.

“Good morning guys, as promised, today I brought along a fellow FBI Agent as a guest speaker. She’s a member of our team over at the BAU; best profiler on the team, as a matter of fact. She has a PhD in psychology and is actually given credit for coining many terms used widely in psychology today. Everyone please give a warm welcome to Supervisory Special Agent (Y/L/N).” Spencer gestures towards me with the brightest smile to which I step forward and wave.

“Hello students, as Dr. Reid said, I work with him and a few other agents at the Behavioral Analysis Unit over at the FBI. So just a little bit about myself: I’m 30 years old, graduated from Cornell, and had no idea I would be working in the FBI today. Long story short, I was a majoring in law, took a psych class, changed majors, got a doctorate in psychology, and applied to the academy the next year.” I pause for a second to take a quick glance Spencer’s way and see him smiling at me brightly. 

It takes a moment for Spencer to snap out of his loving gaze at me before he clears his throat and begins speaking again. “So we are going to pick up where we left off last time: stressors and triggers. A trigger is a sensory event experienced by an offender that precipitates subsequent behavior,” he says and looks my way, indicating it’s now my turn to start speaking again.

“Whereas a stressor is a longer-term pattern of behavior or circumstances which push a person into behaving differently than they normally would,” I begin speaking. 

“You might want, to be writing this down,” Spencer chimes in, “I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but everything Dr. (Y/L/N) says today will definitely be put on the final.” I look around and realize only a few of the students in the lecture hall actually have pens and notebooks or laptops out to take notes on.

“This is true,” I laugh. “In fact, I’m helping Dr. Reid create the final; so any questions on stressors and triggers are coming straight out of this lecture.” I make eye contact with a pretty brunette girl sitting the the front row, ogling at Spencer like he’s some sort of super-human specimen.

“Oh, I’m only auditing this class,” she says, not taking her eyes off Spencer once. I raise an eyebrow and turn to Spencer, noticing how confused he looks, as well.

“I-is anyone else auditing this class?” Spencer stutters and shoves his hands into his pockets. In response to is question, a majority of the girls raise their hands and giggle while making google-y eyes at him. I try to stifle my laughter but fail, a loud snort coming out instead. Before anyone can say anything else, my cell phone starts ringing. I hurry over to my bag and reach for my phone and see that I’m getting an incoming call from the one and only Penelope Garcia.

“Oh, um, excuse me guys, I have to take this.” I say quickly and turn around, facing the white board on the wall behind us as I hold the phone to my ear. “Hi Pen, what’s up?”

“Hello, you beautiful and brilliant girl. I know that you and your just as beautiful and brilliant boyfriend are lecturing your genius little hearts out to some college students today but, unfortunately, we have a case. And this one is a biggie,” she huffs out in one breath.

“Right now?” I ask quietly.

“Yes, Emily says wheels up as soon as you and boy wonder get here; we can brief you two on the jet,” she replies in an apologetic tone. 

“Alright then, Spencer and I can be there in 30 minutes with our go bags,” I check my watch before giving a quick goodbye and hanging up. I turn around to see Spencer and the rest of the class looking at me with quizzical expressions. “That, um, was Garcia. Urgent case. Wheels up in 30.” I start to pack up my items quickly as Spencer turns back around to face his students.

“Okay guys, so it looks like the BAU needs our help, so regrettably, (Y/F/N)- I mean, Dr. (Y/L/N) and I are going to have to get going. Please refer to the syllabus to see which chapters you need to read. Have a good week guys.” He turns to the table I’m standing at and grabs his bag before swinging it over his shoulder. 

Together, we walk through the aisle of the lecture hall seats and halfway through the aisle, Spencer comes to a sudden halt and turns to me. “Wait babe, do you have the keys? I don’t think I have them,” he states as he pats down his pockets. I hear small whispers followed by a hushed voice behind me say Did he just call her babe? I look into my bag and see the keys sitting in the little side pocket.

“Oh yeah, here,” I slide the keys out of my bag and into his hand. Instead of just grabbing the keys from me, though, he places his hand of top of the keys but interlocks his fingers with mine, leading me toward the door. We reach the door and before we exit, I take one final look back at the class to see a group of girls giving me a death glare. I sigh in hilarity and roll my eyes before walking out the door, hand in hand with Spencer.

                                                             * * *

Watching my boyfriend as he drives, I let out a small giggle and smile at him. “What are you smiling at over there?” Spencer raises and eyebrow and shoots me an amused look.

“Oh, nothing, it’s just kind of funny... I never thought in a million years that I’d end up with the hot professor,” I reply casually.

“W-what? What are you talking about?” Spencer’s voice shakes a bit and his cheeks turn the color of a ripe tomato.

“Oh come on, Spence! Those girls were gawking at you up there like you were some sort of Greek God,” I laugh harder the longer I speak, “I swear I saw that pretty brunette in the front drooling.”

“Those girls don’t have a crush on me, if that’s what you’re insinuating... they’re just... very interested in what I talk about, I’m an excellent professor,” he attempts to defend himself.

“Babe, it’s okay to admit that they have a crush on you. It was actually kind of funny to see a bunch of young girls stare at my boyfriend with huge heart eyes. You can’t help how terribly good looking you are,” I shoot him a grin. He chuckles faintly and sighs.

“You really think I’m the hot professor?” He turns to me with a self conscious look on his face.

“The hottest. But don’t get a big head from it. You better not leave me for one of those young, hot college girls,” I titter with a smirk and giggle.

“Oh, love, you needn’t worry about that. Unfortunately, you’re not getting rid of me that easy; sorry to say, but you’re stuck with me,” he grabs my hand and gives it a small squeeze followed by a soft kiss on the back of it.

[masterlist]

[oh-theatre]

Sycamore High: The Auditorium  (Chapter 10)

A/N: So many characters! So many stories! So many perspectives! I LOVE WRITING TED. Also, I have only had Tommy for a chapter but if anything very were to happen to him...

summary: The gang goes through an odd morning before class

words: 1,690

warnings: Cursing, slight homophobia, mentions of yelling, implied abuse, VERY NEGATIVE THINKING

Ao3 link

So cute

He is so cute

I love him

WOAH WOAH, pump the breaks, Ted, you pump those breaks

~~~

Emma turned the corner sleepily, god had anyone gotten any sleep?

“I can't believe they have a coffee cart at this school… how fancy can you get?’ She mumbled to herself making her way towards the smell of sweet sweet caffeine. She reaches the eyesight of the coffee cart to be met with a very different scene. She finds herself staring at Paul and some unknown man who looks very angry. She can't hear what they are saying but the taller man's face gets very red and Emma decides that maybe she should intervene seeing as Paul looks like he could care less what happens to him. She stepped in front of the pair and held up her hand, catching a very sweaty fist in it. The man grunted and kept pushing his fist against her hand, she didn't budge. She gave him a look before he snarled and gave up, walking away followed by a very chatty crew.

“Emma!” Pauls perky voice shouted from behind her, she spun to see an equally sleepy Paul grinning like an idiot, so cute.

“Hiya Paul, what was that about?” She asked, scooching past him a bit to collect her own coffee and Pauls.

“Emma! My dear friend! The girl I met just a while ago! The girl who I might have a crush on!  I don't know!” Emma immediately shushed him and dragged him away from the overpopulating coffee cart. She huddled them into a corner still covering his mouth. “I am really tired” He said smiling, insane eyes shining through.

“Yeah, I can tell…” She paused examining him “How much sleep did you get last night?” She asked concerned

“Literally 0 hours” He said still smiling, she wanted to laugh he really was adorable “My mom was loud and fighting with my dad, we don't like him in this household” He whispered the last part. Emma felt like she was listening to a gossip session. “Anyway they were fighting, VERY LOUDLY” He shouted, Emma, nodded sighing… she was getting annoyed. Paul caught on and decided to continue. “Sister, having boy troubles or whatever… and… “ He suddenly got very sad, his face fell. Emma took his hand not thinking and giving it light supportive strokes “Ted… I was worried about Ted” He pouted, Emma nodded. She looked around her surroundings.

“Let's get you back to class” She decided to hand him his coffee. He took it and followed her lead towards the auditorium. 

“Hey how did you do that-” He paused gesturing wildly “Hand thingy”

“I take self-defense classes” She said, slightly leading Paul who was now full-on drunk/sleepy mode. He gasped loudly, jaw-dropping.

“You are so cool” He whispered amazed, she smirked before they reached the auditorium doors. He looked at the doors then down at his coffee. “Oh no! I forgot Bills coffee…” He pouted again and furrowed his brows “Eh, fuck Bill” He stated before the pair made their way into class.

~~~

“Ok, we can't keep doing this!” Charlotte exclaimed “This isn't like me” She said, furrowing her brows. It wasn't, she wasn't the type of person to sneak into a dark corner of the school and have a make-out session.

“God! Charlotte! You say this every-time, and then the morning comes and here we are” Sam replies frustrated. Charlotte winces at his yelling, she doesn't like yelling. “Look you need to figure out what it is we are doing ok?” Charlotte nods unsure before racing out of their corner, she feels a firm hand grab her and pull her back in for a moment. A warm kiss is placed on her lips and she cant help but melt into it. Sam pulls away after a moment before winking goodbye and making his way to class.  Her face flushed before she made her separate way towards the auditorium.

“There you are” The concerned voice of her best friend Emma calls across the room, she turns smiling at her friend

“Here I am” She says dreamily “What's up, buttercup?”  Emma rolls her eyes and drags her over to the seats.

“Ok I have so much to tell you but first why do you look high?” Charlotte's face fell immediately a sense of panic set in.

“High? I don't look high? Omg, do I look high?” She rambled, Emma squeezed her hands

“Kidding!” She said unsure at her friend, Charlotte pouted and hit her shoulder

“Not funny” She said

“You did it wrong” Emma joined in her pout “It's actually ‘Not Funneh!’” Emma exclaimed mimicking the John Mulaney skit.

“Ok nope, I'm not doing this, it's way too early-”

“Paul said he might have a crush on me” Emma blurted, softly enough for only the pair to hear.

“Good Morning class!” A voice echoed through the hollow theatre “Unfortunately Professor Chad is unavailable today so I have been asked to step in. I'm Professor Hidgens and that is what you can call me” The nervous professor looked at the students expectantly before deciding to begin roll call.

~~~

He is really cute though

Yes, but you don't love him! You don't even know him!

Still cute

“Enough!” Ted shouted out loud, the car stopped abruptly and Tommy looked over at Ted in a panic. Ted covered his mouth quickly as the pair made eye contact. “Sorry, I was… just thinking” He said, Tommy sighed relieved before continuing on. Ted cursed himself, idiot, He thought.

“So what's your first class of the day?” Tommy asked casually as he pulled into the school parking lot “Mines Equine Care and Management, I really love horses” He informs excitedly, Ted could listen to him speak for hours. Tommy parks the car looking over at the boy expectantly.

“Oh! Well it was Physical Education but somehow I got transferred into Musical Theatre with a bunch of my friends” Ted wanted to hit himself, he sounded so lame. Tommy's eyes lit up as he unbuckled.

“I love the theatre!! I really wanted to take that class but my…” He trailed off “Doesn't matter, that's super cool though!” His tone had gotten sadder, Ted felt a fiery ball gather in his stomach, he wanted to punch whoever made him feel this way. He just wanted to protect Tommy.

Dammit!

What is wrong with you?

I don't know

Get it together, man

What would your father think?

“Why do I care?” He mumbled to himself getting out of the car. He had dried off a tad bit so he wasn't slugging water everywhere. He grabbed his things and followed Tommy into the school, he couldn't help but stare the entire time. He was absolutely, head over heels, in l-

STOP IT!

You aren't, you CAN'T be

You're just confused, it's just a phase

It's just a phase

Just a phase

“Could I walk you to the auditorium?” Tommy asked sweetly, no pun intended “I've always wanted to see it” Ted watched as Tommy's eyes grew wide with excitement, and a beautiful smile crossed his face.

“How could I say no?” That was supposed to stay up here, Ted thought. Tommy jumped, yes jumped, excitedly and latched onto Ted. He immediately froze at the sudden contact the two boys now shared. Tommy wasn't bothered, and Ted wasn't either perse but… he was confused.

“Lead the way Teddy” Tommy mumbled softly. Oh? Using my childhood nickname? NOT FAIR UNIVERSE! And so he did, Ted leads them through the almost empty halls right to the auditorium doors. Everything was going great, they talked and laughed. They were so close until-

“Got yourself a boyfriend Porker?” A gruff voice asked from behind. Ted felt his mood immediately drop as the pair turned around to be met with Billy. “Aww look, he even has pigtails, so you can pretend he's a girl”

Ok that's it, Ted roll up your sleeves lets get this motherfucker

Why? He's right, isn't he?

“I'm not his boyfriend” Tommy said calmly, why did Ted's heart hurt when he said this. “I'm just a friend, he's much too good for me” Both Ted and Billy were shocked by this. Ted felt a pang of guilt hit him.

Too good for you? No… no… you've got it all wrong Tommy

“Even if he was my boyfriend” Ted said, his voice wavered by this sudden participation “You would be the last to know”

Wow great job Ted, I’m sure that will get him going

“So what? You like boys Porker?” Billy said scoffing. Ted furrowed his brows, he went to answer.

“You interested Billy? Unfortunately, you're not my type” That shut him up, ted watched amused as Billy stuttered over himself before walking away defeated. “Also yeah I do!” Ted shouted, He just really wanted to rile him up. Tommy let out a giggle and covered Ted's mouth.

“Stop.. you're going to get yourself punched” The pair giggled, Ted felt happier than he had in a while.

“I've been through worse” He shuffled his feet, Tommy let out a breath before examining the halls once more.

“Sorry about that” He said, Ted shook his head furiously

“Not your fault, Billy has always had it out for me and my friends” He glanced over at the direction where Billy had gone “I guess this time it was justified” Ted said disappointed.

“What? Are you joking? It was absolutely not! So you like boys? Who cares?” Tommy said getting very defensive, ted was taken aback by this sudden anger he felt wash through him. “Look I don't know you that well but clearly you have some things you need to work on, but I meant when I said we were friends, ok?” he looked around again “It's ok to like whoever-” Tommy paused “Just don't like Billy ok? Cause… ew” The pair erupted into laughter once more “I should get to class… see you around Ted” Tommy smiled, that damn smile before disappearing, leaving Ted with a very hollow stomach and an awful feeling of longing.

So...Not a phase

What would your father think?

[sunflowerspectre]

Of Strange Brothers | Dungeons and Dragons Commission

This commission was for KiwiToast, of her original D&D characters.

Dungeons and Dragons

Original Character Commission

Summary:

A series of scenes shot throughout the Mistletoe Strangers Series focusing on Alagarthesis and Neronvain.

Requested Word Count: 2k - 5k

Final Word Count: 2026

Also on A03

Of Strange Brothers

Neronvain’s heart is beating wildly against his chest to the beat of the music inside of the castle. He has successfully glided through the many patrons of the ball, blending in seamlessly into the crowd. His pace has been quick, but even and steady as to not draw too much attention to himself. He would have gotten too many looks if he had just darted away or ran, especially if he was seen running away from the mistletoe where (despite being masked) the very recognizable Desire had been. 

He glances around often, a paranoia creeping up his spine. With no sign of anyone, nevertheless Desire, he rests against the balcony’s banister. An odd sensation of disappointment rises his chest. He swallows it down; it is better for both of them if she does not find him, right?

He really should stop listening to that womanizing, romantic brother of his, but how was he supposed to say no? When he saw her standing there under the mistletoe, just waiting, the very image of beauty, for the first time in a long time, he had found himself acting before thinking. Which is new, and more than a bit dangerous. 

“Sooo how was it?” 

Algatheris’ cheeky voice rings, causing Neronvain to curse. He turns to see a grin stretching out across his brother’s face, akin to a cat that ate the canary. His eyes are twinkling with an aura of happiness and giddiness, a stark contrast the sense of doom that has been settling around Neronvain.

“How was what?” 

Algatheris tsk’, “Don’t get coy with me, you kissed her, so tell me, how was it? Was it romantic? Deep? French?”

“It was a kiss,” Neronvain states simply, keeping his voice simple and to the point as he turns his back to his brother, “A kiss that I shouldn’t have let you sway me to do.”

Algatheris sputter, “Sway? Me? If you recall dear brother, I did not say a single word about kissing her. I simply told you that she was there. The kiss is all your making.”

Neronvain opens his mouth, an argument on the tip of his tongue before he swallows his words. He closes his mouth and focuses on the starlight that drips through the sky. The temptation of screaming in frustration growing, he lets out a huff. 

Algatheris pats him on the back sharply, taking the breath from his lungs, but rubs it in a comforting manner. He leans over beside him, his hand now draping around Neronvain’s shoulders to bring him in close.

“Do you regret it,” Algatheris asks, his voice dropping its usual aloofness.The somberness of his tone makes Neronvain pause. He looks to his brother, but Algatheris’ eyes are on the skyline with a wistful, knowing gleam to them. A smile graces Algatheris’ lips. Not the cheeky grin he gives when he knows he’s gotten away with something. It’s not the boastful grin of a man who won his trophy nor the teethy, flashy grin that he flashes to everyone who looks his way. It’s too somber. The grin you give when a grandmother holds your hand on her dying breath. It’s sincere, loving, but unsure of what’s going to happen next.

Neronvain is quiet for a moment. The silence covering them both as the music behind them begins to blur out of focus as their minds become preoccupied.

The kiss could have bad consequences. Neronvain can’t even begin to imagine what would happen if Desire finds out that it was him. She could get mad and even refuse to speak to him again. She could kick him out of their traveling party. She could steal his wallet out of revenge. Their kiss brings more cons than pros, yet...

He can still taste her on his lips. Her lips were a bit dry and he could tell exactly how much she had drank, but her lips were warm. Warm enough to light a fire that he is still trying to dwindle. 

“No, no I don’t.”

Algatheris’ grin stretches as he pats Neronvain on the shoulder, “Then that’s all that matters, isn’t it?”

Neronvain doesn’t answer him, wishing that it is as simply as that.

#####

Theoretically, the idea of watching them from the windows should have also meant that he could hear them. He couldn’t. He watches as Desire drinks - and drinks and drinks - with his brother. The dusting of pink on her cheeks when a hand grazes hers at the first drink. The words that seem to flow easily from her lips as his brother nods and listens. It isn’t as if Desire never talked to him; at times, she talked too much. It isn’t as if she never listened to; there are maybe five times he remembered where she did. But this is different. He can feel it.

Neronvain scrambles, a tad more ungracefully than any ‘prince’ should, away from the window as Desire quickly approaches the door. The idea of staying there, having her confront him, played only for a moment in his mind before his usual confidence falters just enough for him to make a dive for a hiding spot.

He watches as Desire leaves his brother’s abode, half drunk and dazed. She misses the step by the door and he twitches, almost going to help her, but why should he when Algatheris isn’t too far behind? When Algartheris is the one she goes to? When his brother is the one she spills all her concerns too? When apparently she’s oh so close to his brother?

Neronvain waits until she is gone before he approaches the door himself. His hand hovers over the door, but stops before it hits the wood as the door swings open. Algatheris leans against the door frame, casually, with a grin stretching across his face and a gleam in his eyes. 

“You need to learn how to hide better if you don’t want her to see you,” Algatheris comments.

His never-faltering grin only causes Neronvain’s bitterness to grow. It makes Algatheris seem as if he knew something that Neronvain didn’t, as if he knows everything. The sour sensation in his mouth made it harder to admit what he wants to say. Neronvain crosses his arms against his chest and other than a small twitch beginning to form at the corner of his lips, his face remained stoic.

“Why would I worry about her seeing me?”

“You tell me, you’re the one hiding.”

Algatheris watches his brother closely, a more calculating look in his eye. He knows his brother waited outside for quite a while, but he isn’t sure about how much he could really hear.

Neronvain scowls deeply like a pouting child, “I was not hiding.”

“Ah yes, because we all hide within the bushes for fun,” Algatheris laughs, “If you want to make amends, you are more than welcome to come in for a drink….”

His laughter dwindles off as he leans forward with a wink, “...But if you want my opinion, you should stop hiding and go after her before someone else does.”

Neronvain looks closely for any signs of what his brother really means by that statement; what exactly is he implying? Algatheris simply blinks innocently, as if he never implied anything at all, as he waits for a response. 

“I suppose I should make sure that she doesn’t get eaten on her way back to camp after all the drinks you gave her.”

There’s an accusing tone to his voice that Algatheris ignores, grinning, as he watches Neronvain finally depart after her. He can hear the way his brother continues to grumble under his breath, I was not hiding.

#########

It’s been too long since Algatheris has heard from his brother. He rereads the last letter he received, detailing a close call with an ambush on his party’s last trip. It doesn’t say much, other than it being too close for comfort and that it could have been prevented if he was paying attention. There’s a vague mention of Desire, something about her being stupid for almost getting killed. Something that, while worrying him, does make him smile. Neronvain has always had a strange way of showing he cared.

He hopes that rereading it will ease his fears, remind him that if Neronvain is well enough from that ‘close call’ to write a letter, then he is sure to be fine. He had already sent his best wishes, along with five feet of parchment reminding his brother to be careful. Maybe he never got a reply back, but it usually took a while for Neronvain to reply.

But it shouldn’t take this long. 

He wonders how bad Desire’s wounds are - if her almost getting killed meant something that could kill her later. He’s always liked her - she’s funny, makes interesting conversation, stirs up trouble, and makes his brother happy. She’s his friend. 

But she is much more than that to his brother. If something happened to her, if she passed due to her wounds, then he can imagine why Neronvain isn’t sending any letters. It would destroy his brother, as much as he would never admit it, if she got killed. He can’t even begin to imagine what his brother would do - well perhaps he could, but that thought process definitely doesn’t help his fears.

Months go by and each day, each hour, he gets more worried. 

He gets a letter the day before he’s ready to head out himself to find his brother; his duties be damned if his brother needs him. He already had a bag half-packed sitting in his bedroom and maps thrown about his desk as he decided on a route that would take him close to where his brother’s letter was sent from. But all those maps are tossed aside when he gets a letter with his name neatly written in his brother’s handwriting across the top of the parchment. 

His heart is about to beat out of his chest, unsure of what he is about to read. He likes to think it will be good news -  receiving this letter at all eases his worst fears. He takes a deep breath, not even bothering to sit down to read it. He carefully runs a thumb over the seal, noting the familiar wax seal of Desire’s horns. He swallows thickly, his stomach turning as he steadies his hands. 

The letter should be good news, yet this small detail. This little symbol of wax is making his stomach turn. Desire never really sends letters, not formally, and as such she doesn’t typically use her stamp (a stamp, he remembers, that Neronvain got for her). He vaguely recalls Neronvain being upset when he found out that it was shoved deep inside of her belongings, never to see the light of day unless she had to write formal letters - things like business, parties, and funerals. Using her stamp, but knowing his brother’s handwriting, worries him more than hearing no response.

He hesitantly breaks the seal and scans over the letter carefully. The more he reads, the more his worries turn into happiness, his face breaking out into a grin. 

“Son of a bitch,” he whispers under his breath.

There are a few paragraphs at the end that are also in her writing, her swirling and unsteady letters contrasting against the strict, calligraphy hand of Neronvain. Unlike Neronvain, she writes more casually and some of her words are scratched out and their corrections written in smaller writing above it. There’s a few careful words chosen, cautious phrases that new lovers use, as if they don’t want to scare the other off. A few little notes that Desire wrote, added in little letters with arrows at Neronvain’s paragraphs. Desire even signs her name next to Neronvain’s. 

He has to say, they really did a hell of a job getting their message across. His heart swells in his chest, happiness blooming for his brother. 

“They finally did it.”

Interested In A Commission?

[maladaptive-ninja-returns]

Sun

Part 2

Part 1

(Bruises,    Haven)

Loki x Reader fluff

I decided to write an extension. This is pure experimentation, my dudes. Your feedback is more than welcome. I actually could use some right now. Use my Ask box as much as you like.

Warnings: None...unless you count second-hand embarrassment.

Word Count:...I give up

(This gif doesn't belong to me. Credits to the owner.)

"Oh my God! For the last time Peter I don't know those movies! How are we supposed to work together and stay alive when I don't even know half the stuff you mak-AAH!"

You were thrown into the air before your back felt itself being scratched by the ground.

"Eyes on the enemy, Y/N!" Steve shouted as he blocked Bucky's punches and sent his shield flying around to take down Scott's Ant-Man form towering over Clint.

"Sorry, Captain," you said, getting back up on your feet. Wanda saw you and readied her hands as she waved them around to send a string of plasmic pulses shooting towards you but you blocked them in time, sending them back on to her and Sam.

"Son of a-,"

"Language." Peter webbed Sam's wings and weapon slots as he swung over him and on to Scott's arm.

"Peter, the back!" Steve shouted as he pinned Bucky down, with his arms tightened around his best friend's neck.

You saw Steve watching Peter, never feeling Bucky get the knife out of his belt.

Instinct took over you as you curled up your hands in a fist, gathering power around it and screaming, "Steve, move!" and punching it through the air towards Bucky, taking him, Sam and Scott down like a bunch of multi-sized dominoes.

An air horn broke the deafening silence.

"Pathetic. You all got beaten up by one person at the same time. Why does Tony even keep you here." Loki's dead toned sarcasm ringed through the practice grounds, receiving multiple curses at once- which he quite enjoyed for reasons known to him.

"Good job with the final blow, Y/N." Steve patted you on the back, allowing you to catch your breath as you picked up his shield and handed it to him.

"You know I really wanted to end it with 'Eyes on the enemy, Captain' but SOMEONE RUINED MY MOMENT!" you shouted loud enough so that the God of Mischief could hear it and roll his eyes at you, knowing full well that you knew he had blown that horn on purpose.

"Oh! And sorry for calling you Steve, Captain. I just saw the knife and threw all sense out of the window."

It felt weird now as the adrenaline had washed off and you realised you had never addressed the Captain so casually before.

"It's fine," Steve said, giving you his warmest smile as you both headed to the weapons deposit corner to return your protective gear and comms, "I'd rather you call me Steve than Rogers or Captain. I'm tired of the formal greetings from you guys anyway."

"Cool! Keeping it warm and casual from now on." You said, smiling at the idea of getting to call the Avenger like any of your family members.

"Speaking of casual. May I ask what's going on between you and Loki?"

The question caught you off-guard, allowing you to blurt out a flabbergasted "W-wh-aa-haaa-?"

"He's asking if you two... Fondue-d?"

Peter came down, balancing himself on his rope, taking you both by surprise.

"Wait, how did you-? And that's not what I meant, Y/N, I'm so sorry." a flushed faced Steve looked between him and you.

"Mr Stark told us, who in turn was told about the whole fondue thing by Ms Carter. Actually, it slipped into the conversation when he was trying to have 'the talk' with me and couldn't say the s-word. We all found it funny." Peter could not wipe the wide grin on his face.

Steve turned to you wide-eyed looking for some ray of hope that all of this wasn't true.

"Yeah, that happened," you ripped it out fast, not allowing any room for a doubt.

"Tony! We need to talk!" Steve shouted as he stormed off into the building, leaving you and Parker giggling.

"So..." Peter was still hanging there upside down, swinging lightly as he looked at you with teasing glint in his eyes.

"So?" You threw back casually, not letting him smell that you knew what he was looking for.

"Did you guys...fonduuuuue?" He teased, swinging a bit wildly towards you as he exaggerated his words.

"Peter, stop! Why are you so interested in us...fondue-ing...why are you interested anyways?!" You said, tearing out your gloves and knee-pads, trying not to make eye contact with your friend while talking about sex. You two had often talked a lot about the s-word out loud, but it was always in context with jokes, serious discussions, discussions you two thought were serious and while watching Discovery Channel. This was different than those times, not to mention something you'd like to keep private.

"What does it have to do with me?" Peter had been offended by that question. He dangled closer to you with a serious expression on his face as his brows furrowed and his eyes and his lips pressed in dismay.

"Do you have any idea what the last six months have been like for me?"

"Wai-"

"Shush, girl, I'm talking. Do you have any idea what it was like to see you and Loki emanate the true ship vibe the moment your right hook met his jaw the first time you two met?"

"Wow! Someone's been upgrading their vocabulary and boy is it not the chemical names of lab-made polymers! And what the hell do you me-"

"Bup-bup-bup." He shut your lips with his free hand as he continued.

"You two had been dripping in sexual tension from the moment you laid eyes on each other and THAT'S COnd THAT'sCOMING FROM nd THAT'sCOnd THAT'sCOMING FROM MEME-" he pressed your lips shut tighter as you tried to speak and continued, "and don't get me started on your arguments. Him throwing his on-point sarcasm and critical thoughts like a dodge ball and you taking them like some professional player and reading right through them as if you'd done this before. I mean, you have, given your history. And then being patient with him, surprising him countless times. Do you know how much the two of you drained me emotionally? All you two had to do was be in the same room and I had to restrain myself from making the two of you sit down face to face and shouting 'Just kiss already goddamit' as loud as possible. So no wonder I was over the moon when you kissed Mr Friggason- yes, that's what Loki and I agreed I could call him- and I'm waiting when you two will make it official. Like holding-hands-in-the-public-going-full-PDA official, okay. Because not knowing is killing my ship here, sister. Big time!"

Peter let go of your lips, and the blood rushed to your cheeks, burning them, wishing they could spread to your entire body and engulf you in flames.

"No, they haven't done anything yet. I can still sense their sexual tension for miles." A voice came from inside your ear.

Your comms had been active the entire time and Natasha thought it was necessary for the entire team to know about this vital piece of information.

"What the f-" you tore away the comms, hurting your ear and tried to walk away as quickly as possible but not before you hit Peter with a look of disgust.

Everyone who'd been practising in the compound had broken down into giggles and tried their best to suppress it the moment you came face to face with all of them.

"Come on guys! Give her break." Scott rested a hand on his hips and waved the free one around, brushing off the air.

"Thank you for being the adult around here," you said as your voice mocked everyone else presents there.

"No, I meant to give you a break so you actually get down to doing something with your... boyfriend? Bae? I don't what you kids call it these days."

You raised your hand, palm pointing up in the sky in a 'What the fuck, Scott?' motion as everyone around you snickered.

"I sometimes feel bad for Hope, you know. She's dating a twelve-year-old. Your poor...girlfriend? Babe? I don't know what you two call yourself in your...relationship." The smirk on your lips didn't budge as you could see Scott shift from one foot to another.

"Okay, that was harsh. We are dating, we haven't defined anything yet, and that was harsh."

Natasha patted Scott on the back as he tried to find his composure.

"In all seriousness guys, could we please stop? I mean, technically, in God years Loki's what...seventeen right now. And I'm like four years older than him. In human years, that is. So please, let's just not talk about the fondue-ing. He isn't even an adult yet."

"Who isn't an adult?" Loki's voice called from right behind you. You cursed internally for the times you weren't a fan his teleportation powers when he would plant himself purposely behind you and watch you jump and turn around with your fists ready to land a punch.

What you did know-and, oddly, liked- was how his gaze would never falter as he would watch your stance fall, fists opening and your body losing its tension on seeing him, making his eyes smile every single time without fail.

"You," Clint called out from behind Loki as he sat on a makeshift boulder, resetting the compound climate and vegetation on his tablet.

"You are not an adult and you're not supposed to do stuff that kids won't," he said, never looking up from his tablet.

In one sentence, Clint had shut everyone up, leaving no room for anymore teasing.

Sam and Scott quietly slipped away to the weapons deposit corner as Wanda and Nat shifted to your either side while Bucky and Peter moved beside Clint.

You made a mental note to get Clint as many free coupons as possible to all his favourite restaurants and gift shops.

Loki wore a confused look on his face and Clint sensed it being directed towards him, nudging Peter in response.

"Right. Sorry." Peter raised his brows and brought his hands together, ready to explain to the class what was going on.

"We calculated your age on the human year scale and you are just as old as me. Maybe even a bit younger. And by we, I mean Y/N and I. By calculated I mean we came across the math. On the internet. But we did verify it ourselves." He ended proudly.

Before Loki could say anything, the sky cracked and thunder came down, the compound, burning the grass where it struck

"Come on man! I literally just carpeted that area." Clint groaned out loud as the bots, who'd just rolled out the greens, threw rocks at the God of thunder.

Thor tried to ignore the bots as he walked towards your small gathering and greeted everyone with a huge smile.

"Everyone, I have news. Asgard has been restored to its former glory. As the new King, I invite you all to the birth-day celebrations and finally show you how the Asgardians party." "Also because I am being coronated." He added sheepishly.

"Yes! Avengers vacation to Asgard! Avengecation!!" Peter chimed in before pausing wide-eyed, being hit with a sudden compulsory thought. "Wait. I'll have to ask aunt May."

"Stark already asked her. You will be joining everyone else." Loki said, allowing Peter to jump in the air with excitement and ran back into the facility to get ready.

"Yeah, that's all good but," Wanda cut in, looking at Thor, "I remember it clearly it's not your birthday any time soon."

Thor chuckled. "It's not mine. It's Loki's. We're celebrating my brother tonight!"

Thor said as he playfully punched Loki and wrapped his arm around him, pulling him close, drawing nothing but a sharp exhale of his cold breath.

"Oh!" Sam and Scott came back- and as they would seem to say- right on time for him to mention, "So, Loki, does that mean you are turning eighteen today, in the human years scale?" as he raised an eyebrow towards you, forcing you to relive your life in flashes to find out what was it you did in the past that has come back to haunt you as moments of embarrassment.

"Yes," Loki confirmed as he looked at Clint with a slight bow, "I am," before turning back to you with a sly smile and a wink, making every inch of your body shudder- surprisingly, both in fear and anticipation.

"Yay. Happy birthday," you trembling voice squeaked, giving him a thumbs up and you a couple thousands of seconds to bury yourself in anxious thoughts as to what was going to-or not going to- happen tonight.