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pitchsidestories · 1 year ago

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Girls Girls Girls II Ingrid Engen x Mapi Leon x Reader

masterlist I word count: 1782

a/n: You guys really came through with so many great requests for Ingrid Engen x Mapi Leon x Reader. We hope you understand that we can't write them all straight away but we'll try to do as many as we can. Based off these two requests. <3

The atmosphere in the Barcelona club was electric. Every movement done inside of it felt like a promise to an eventful evening with endless possibilities. Like a blank canvas waiting to be painted with scenes of the night.

When the clock stroked midnight, Mapi Leon curiously asked her girlfriend while nodding in the direction you were standing: “Have you seen the beauty over there?”

“Are you talking about the girl sitting at the bar?”, Ingrid Engen wanted to know smirking. The Spanish woman replied grinning:” Yes, the one with an old-fashioned in her hands.”

“She’s gorgeous.”, the midfielder admitted blushing at the sight of you in a stunningly black jumpsuit.

Innocently Mapi played with a loose string of her hair:” Her glass seems almost empty; do you think we should talk to her?” “I think we should order her a new one.”, the Norwegian suggested warmly.

Enthusiastically the older woman responded:” Yes, I agree.” “I’ll order.”, Ingrid decided. Smiling sweetly at her girlfriend the Spaniard answered: “Thanks.” Afterwards she approached you with a flirty smile:” Hi.”

“Oh hi.”, you gazed surprised at the two very beautiful women in front of you. Interested the tattooed one wanted to know:” Enjoying your drink?”

“Yes, I know the barkeeper, she and I go to the same Uni, so she always makes something special out of it.”, you told her. She acknowledged that remark with a lifted eyebrow:” Oh, you do?”

“Yes.”, your cheeks turned hot under their attentive eyes. Casually Mapi went on:” What are you studying?” “The arts, I love to paint.”, you answered passionately.

Delighted the Spanish woman muttered:” So you’re an artist.” “I am. Your tattoos are so pretty. What are you and your girlfriend doing? Sorry, I think you’ve not told me your names yet.”, nervously you licked your lips.

The older woman of the two introduced themselves: “I’m Mapi and that’s Ingrid.” “Nice to meet you both, I’m y/n.”, you remarked in an honest tone.

A big smile lit up Ingrid’s face: “Nice to meet you too.” “Thanks for the drink.”, you mumbled gratefully lifting you glass with them before taking each a deep sip. Cheerfully the Norwegian waved it off: ”You’re welcome.”

After you three savoured your drinks, Mapi confidently took your and her girlfriend’s hand:” Do you want to dance with us?” “Sure.”, the liquor making you bold in your reply to her question.

Happily, Ingrid got up from the chair she was sitting on a few seconds ago: “Really?” “Yes, let’s go to the dance floor.”, you said self-assured.

The defender couldn’t help but to observe the reaction of your Uni friend:”Your barkeeper friend doesn’t look amused.” “Oh. But she’s in a relationship.”, you promptly explained.

A sign of relief crossed the older woman’s face:” So she’s got nothing to worry about.” “Exactly.” “Come on.”, impatiently Ingrid pulled both of you to the place people were already dancing.

“Coming!“ You immediately started moving to the music. The rhythm of your bodies in perfect synchronisation. You completely lost focus of your own body, captivated by Ingrids elegant and Mapis more powerful movements.

Mapi winked at you, pulling you close so she could whisper in your ear; “An artist and a good dancer as well.“ You bit back a smile, relieved that your reddening cheeks wouldn’t be visible in the dim light; “You two are not bad either.“

“For football players maybe.“, Ingrid added with a laugh. “Football players?“, you echoed in surprise. “Yes, for FC Barcelona.“, Mapi stated calmly. Your knowledge about football might have been limited but you did know about the Catalan club.

Lost for words, you could only mumble; “Wow.“ Ingrid used your moment of speechlessness to change the subject. “Want to come with us to our place?“, she asked, a carefulness in her voice in case she crossed a line. “Sure.“, you answered without hesitation.

Smiling, Mapi took your hand in hers; “Don’t worry. We won’t do anything you don’t want to do.“ “No, I want to come with you. Really.“, you assured her, shaking your head. You refused to let the night end that early.

Ingrid took your other hand; “We should leave then.“ “Yes, let’s go.“, Mapi agreed, leading you both out of the bar after you gathered your jackets and purses.

You were surprised when they opened the door to their apartment to you. It was modern and chic but also very homely at the same time. You immediately felt welcome; “Your apartment is beautiful.“

“Thanks. Ingrid decorated it.“, Mapi grinned proudly. Her girlfriend cheeks went pink; “For the most part.“ “Almost the whole part.“, the defender corrected her amused. You let your gaze wander around the room for a bit longer and commented; “I love it.“

“I know it’s late but would you like some coffee?“, Ingrid offered politely. You smiled; “Yes, I’d like one.“ “I’ll make you one.“ “Thank you.“ “No problem.“, Ingrid waved it off and got to work. You sat down at their kitchen table. While you waited, you took out your notebook and started scribbling into it.

Some of your creative energy needed an outlet. You failed to realise that Mapi took the chair opposite you and watched you draw. Only when her beringed hand reached out for the page, you looked up at her. “Can I see it?“, she asked innocently.

Quickly, you covered your sketches with a hand; “No, I’m not done yet.“ Mapi tried again, giving you her best puppy eyes; “Come on.“ “Later, promise.“ “You should know that I’m very impatient.“, she warned you jokingly. You laughed; “Oh, I’ve noticed.“

“Hey. Rude!“, the defender complained. Ingrid gave her girlfriend a knowing look as she set down three cups of coffee; “No, it’s true.“ Mapis jaw dropped in feigned offense; “Ingrid!“ “Yes?“

But before the couple could continue to bicker, you closed your notebook and wrapped your hands around the mug; “Thanks for the coffee.“ “You’re welcome.“, Ingrid smiled sweetly.

After you tasted the coffee, you announced:” It’s delicious.” “Do you want to stay overnight?”, the defender asked you curiously. Her and the Norwegian looked expectantly at you when you exclaimed:” Sure. Why not?” “Perfect.”, Ingrid sighed. B

Blushing you mumbled:” “If that’s okay with you.” “It’s.”, the midfielder nodded placing a light kiss on your lips sealing the oral invitation to stay tonight at their place.

Instinctively one hand went to your lips which were still buzzing from the excitement: ”I’ll stay then.” Gleefully Mapi clapped into her hands before kissing you aswell:” We hoped you’d say yes.”

In the morning the Spanish woman noticed, her voice still full of sleep:” Ingrid, she’s gone.” “Yes, but she left a note with her number, she had to go to uni.”, the younger football player explained, showing her the note you left, on the other side was the sketch you did of them the previous night.

Impressed Mapi whispered:” So that’s what she was working on.” “It’s stunning.”, Ingrid admitted beaming. Suddenly wide awake the defender told her:” Give me her number. I’m going to text her.” “Here you go.”, the midfielder responded cheerfully.

Pressing a soft kiss to her cheek, the Spanish woman replied:” Thanks.” “Did you ask her to come to our next match?”, a hopeful smile was on Ingrid’s lips.

Cheekily Mapi grinned at her: “Maybe.” More serious she added:” It just feels right with her, right?” “It does.”, the Norwegian nodded, pressing a kiss on to her girlfriend’s head.

Since that fateful night at the bar, you’ve met Mapi and Ingrid quite a few times, so naturally you accepted their invitation to come to one of their game, the defender was still injured, while the midfielder was in the starting line of today’s match.

In a low voice Jana Fernadez spoke to you after you sat down next to her:”Y/N, have you seen the photo of you three in the car going around on the internet?” “What? No, I didn’t.”, you answered stunned by that news.

Seriously the younger woman continued:” You might want to look it up.” “Thanks for telling me, Jana.”, you muttered. She gave you an empathetic smile and a pad on the shoulder:” You’re welcome.”

Only a couple of minutes later Mapi showed up with two drinks in her hands, one for her and the other for you, the defender was quickly followed by Alexia:”What did Jana show you?”

“This, they took photos of us three and put them online.”, you revealed, showing her what Jana had hinted at not that long ago. “Wait, let me see.”, Mapi urged you and took a closer look on what the photos were picturing. “Here.”

Mapis brows furrowed as she took in the clear photo of you three together. There was a hint of worry in her eyes when she turned to you; “I’m sorry. I don’t know how or when they took that.“ “We need to tell Ingrid.“, you decided, too many thoughts rushing through your head.

Again, the defender tried to catch your eye; “Ingrid will be fine but how do you feel about it?“ You shook your head, replying blankly; “I’m good.“ “Are you sure?“ “Yes, what do you think?“, you asked her.

Mapi tilted her head before answering; “I don’t mind people knowing that I’m with two pretty girls.“

“And me neither.“, Ingrids voice interjected. She smiled softly at the two of you, her hair still damp from the shower she took after the game. Mapi laughed; “I told you she won’t mind.“

You were silent for a few seconds, only now realising that these two people loved having you in their lives as you loved having them in yours. “Let’s put our own picture out there.“, Ingrid suggested, turning on the front camera of her phone. You smiled; “Alright.“

“Yes, come here. Let’s take on.“, Mapi said and pulled Ingrid towards her. With you in the middle, the two football player pressed kisses on your cheeks for the photo.

Proudly, Ingrid showed you the shots. “Okay, should we title it Girls Girls Girls?“, you asked with a smirk. The Norwegian smiled back at you; “What’s more fitting than that?“ “Yes, we’ll take that one.“, Mapi agreed, taking her girlfriends phone and hitting the post button.

There was nothing you could do but stare at the two women you had come to love so easily. The buzz of your phone in your pocket tore you out of your trance.

It was the first like on your post and it was from your bartending friend who watched you three leave on the first night you met. With a grin you thought back of the happy coincidences that led up to this moment. It must have been fate.

#woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso #woso one shot #woso community #barca femeni #ingrid engen #ingrid engen x reader #ingrid engen imagine #mapi leon #mapi leon x reader #mapi leon imagine #Spotify #mapi leon x ingrid engen

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ahqkas · 11 months ago

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♯ HIS LOVE’S CREATIVE HEART ; mattheo riddle

PAIRING! mattheo riddle x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS! the love of his life was a creative soul and who was he to deny your nature? (based off this req.!!)

WORD COUNT! 3.3k

WARNINGS AND TAGS! fluff, kissing, crafty reader, muggleborn reader, lovesick mattheo

NOTES! reblogs & comments are greatly appreciated <3

HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST!

YOU'VE ALWAYS LOVED THE ACTIVITIES OF CREATIVITY. From a young age, you found joy in the simple act of making something with your own hands. Crocheting, with its interesting patterns and soothing repetition, was one of your earliest passions. There was something oddly satisfying about watching a ball of yarn transform into a cozy blanket or a delicate sweater under your fingers. Each loop, each stitch is a small act of creation. The rhythmic movement of the hook, the texture of the yarn slipping through your fingers, and the memories of your Grandmama were too cherished by you to forget them.

Baking, too, became a beloved creative outlet you shared with the sweet old woman. The kitchen was your laboratory, a place where you could freely experiment. You relished the process of measuring and mixing, the way simple ingredients like flour, sugar, and eggs could be transformed into a mix of flavors and textures. The smell of freshly baked bread or cookies wafting through the house was a comforting reminder of the magic you could create by your own hands. The process is both strict and freeing; one must follow certain rules, yet there is always room for imagination. A pinch of spice here, a dash of flavor there, and suddenly, a simple recipe becomes his personal favorite.

Painting, on the other hand, offered you a different kind of creative fulfillment. With a blank canvas before you and a palette of colors at your disposal, you felt a sense of freedom that was really exciting for your young heart. Each brushstroke was a gift of your inner world, a glimpse into your thoughts and emotions. Whether you were capturing the vibrant hues of a sunset or the delicate details of a flower, painting allowed you to see the world through new eyes and share your unique perspective with others.

In all these activities, you discovered not just hobbies, but a way of life. Creativity became a pair of sunglasses through which you viewed the world.

Your grandmama always believed in the magic of your creativity. From the time you were old enough to hold a crochet hook, she supported your talents with a guiding hand. Together, you spent countless afternoons creating intricate patterns and baking delicious treats in her warm home. Her kitchen became your comfort place, the rhythmic hum of the oven and the soft clinking of your crochet needles made you unbelievably happy. She celebrated each finished piece, every golden-brown loaf of bread, and every delicate painting as if they were masterpieces.

When your Hogwarts letter arrived, the old woman was overjoyed. As a muggleborn, you were stepping into a world she could only imagine. "Think of all the magical things you will create," she had said, her eyes sparkling with pride. Though the idea of leaving her was haunting you, her open love made the thought easier. She promised to write often, and you did your best to send her letters filled with detailed descriptions of your magical adventures and the new wonders you were creating with your wand.

But letters could only do so much, and as the years went by, you missed the simple joy of her daily encouragement and the warmth of her presence.

Six years passed in a blur of potions, spells, and problem making. Your creative spirit never died, but the absence of your grandmama's physical presence was a constant ache that seemed to linger in the depths of your heart. It was around this time that Mattheo Riddle entered your life. He saw the passion in your eyes, the same spark your grandmama had always seen. At first, he was fascinated by your creativity, watching with awe as you seamlessly blended magic with your muggleborn talents.

01 - CROCHETING

The room was bathed in a soft, golden glow, the flickering light from the fireplace casting dancing shadows on the walls. The warmth of the fire created a comforting atmosphere, slushing off the chill of the evening. You and Mattheo were nestled on a plush, overstuffed couch, its worn fabric bearing the marks of countless cozy evenings like this one. The air was filled with the soothing crackle of burning wood and the occasional 'pop' of a log as it settled deeper into the flames. Evenings like these were your favorite.

You sat cross-legged at one end of the couch, your crochet hook moving rhythmically through a skein of deep blue yarn. Each loop and stitch seemed to flow effortlessly from your fingers, years of practice and the love poured into the new project. Your eyes were focused, yet relaxed, as you followed the intricate pattern in your mind, your hands working almost of their own accord.

Mattheo sat at the other end, his body turned toward you, one arm resting along the back of the couch. His gaze was soft but concentrated, his dark eyes following the movements of your hands with a mixture of admiration and fascination. He loved watching you create; there was something almost magical about the way you transformed simple yarn into beautiful designs. It was a side of you that he cherished deeply, a glimpse into your soul that he was privileged to witness.

The common room was quiet, save for the sounds of the fire and the occasional rustle of yarn. Mattheo shifted slightly, leaning closer to you. "What are you making this time?" he asked, his voice low and warm, filled with genuine curiosity as his irises never left your movements.

You glanced up at him, a small smile playing on your lips. "It's a blanket," you replied, holding up the growing fabric for him to see. "For my dorm. I thought it could use a bit more color and warmth."

Mattheo reached out, his long fingers brushing lightly against the soft fabric. "It's beautiful," he murmured lowly, his eyes meeting yours. "Just like everything you make."

Heat crept up your cheeks at his words, and you looked back down at your work, your smile widening. "Thank you."

As you continued to crochet, Mattheo's gaze never wavered. He was captivated by the way your fingers moved, the delicate dance of the hook and yarn. He loved these quiet moments with you, where time seemed to slow down, and the outside world faded away. Everything was okay for once again.

After a while, Mattheo shifted again, moving closer until his knee brushed against yours. He reached out and gently took one of your hands, his touch warm and reassuring. "Can I help?" he asked, a playful glint in his eyes.

You laughed softly, the sound a sweet melody that mingled with the crackling fire. "I don't know," you teased, raising an eyebrow. "Have you ever done this before?" You knew the answer, but you wanted to mess with him a little bit.

His lips stretched into a grin at your words and his hand squeezed yours lightly. "I think I can manage. Just show me what to do."

You shifted closer to him, the blanket pooling in your and his lap. "Alright," you said, holding out the hook and yarn toward him. "First, you need to make a slip knot." You demonstrated the simple loop, your fingers deftly moving with practiced ease. Mattheo watched intently, his brows furrowed in concentration as he mimicked your movements.

"Like this?" he asked, showing you his attempt. It was a bit loose, but it held.

"Perfect," you praised the Slytherin boy, eyes sparkling with encouragement. "Now, hold the yarn like this and make a chain stitch." You showed him how to wrap the yarn around the hook and pull it through the loop. He followed your instructions carefully, his movements tentative but eager.

With each new step, you guided him, your hands occasionally covering his to correct his grip or adjust the tension. "You're doing great," you said, watching as he completed a row of chain stitches. "Now, let's try a single crochet."

Mattheo's initial awkwardness gradually gave way to a steady rhythm and his confidence grew with each stitch. He glanced up at you, a mixture of pride and joy in his eyes. "This isn't so bad," he admitted, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. Although his side of the blanket was a little more messy than yours, it was adorable to see him trying out your activities.

You laughed, the sound filling his chest with warmth. "See? I told you. And it's even more fun when you get the hang of it."

The two of you continued working together, your hands moving in sync as you crocheted side by side. As the night wore on, you and Mattheo fell into a comfortable silence, the rhythm of your work and the steady crackle of the fire lulling you into a peaceful state of mind.

02 - BAKING

It was well past curfew, and the usual bustle of Hogwarts had given way to a hushed stillness.

You and Mattheo crept through the hallways, stifling giggles and casting glances around to make sure you remained unseen. Finally, you reached the entrance to the kitchens, a place where the house elves bustled about during the day and night, cooking and baking the delicious meals that filled the Great Hall every day.

You tickled the pear in the portrait, and the entrance swung open to reveal the warm, inviting space of the Hogwarts kitchens. The room was a hive of activity by day, but now, in the late hours, it was quiet in here. The house-elves, always so helpful and friendly, had agreed to let you use their space for your baking adventures. Their big eyes (they were the size of a tennis ball!) and cheerful smiles greeted you as you entered, and a few of the elves lingered to offer assistance if needed, but most retreated to give you privacy, seeing you had arrived with your boyfriend, hand in hand.

The kitchen was vast, filled with long wooden tables, towering shelves stocked with every ingredient imaginable, and gleaming copper pots and pans hanging from hooks on the walls. The scent of spices and baked goods from the diner lingered in the air. The hearth, usually roaring with flames, was now a gentle glow, casting a warm light that added to the cozy atmosphere.

You and Mattheo set to work. "Alright, Chef Riddle," you said with a teasing grin on your face, helping him to tie an apron around his waist, "let's see if you can keep up."

He shook his head at you and offered you an arrogant smirk, his dark eyes twinkling with mischief. "Just try to keep up with me," he retorted, grabbing a flour sack with a dramatic flourish.

Rolling your eyes with a smile, you began gathering the ingredients for your chosen recipes. Tonight, you had decided to bake a variety of treats: cookies and pastries that had been on your mind for weeks. The house-elves had thoughtfully provided fresh ingredients, and the counters were soon laden with bowls of flour, sugar, butter, and eggs.

The first task was to prepare the dough for the cookies. You measured out the ingredients, your movements practiced and efficient, while Mattheo attempted to follow along, his competitive nature driving him to match your pace.

"Don't forget the vanilla," you reminded him, adding a splash to your own bowl.

He nodded, carefully measuring out the extract. "Got it. How do you know so much about baking anyway?" he asked, his tone curious but impressed.

You shrugged, a smile tugging at your lips. "Years of practice with my grandmama. She taught me everything I know."

As you mixed the dough, the rich, sweet aroma filled the kitchen, mingling with the lingering scents of past meals. You stole a glance at Mattheo, who was diligently working beside you, his brow furrowed in concentration. His hands, usually so busy with his wand, were now covered in flour and sugar, a sight that made you giggle.

"What's so funny?" he asked, feigning offense but unable to hide his smile. There was no way he could. Your smile brought out the best in him.

"You," you replied, leaning over to swipe a bit of flour onto his nose. "You're a natural baker."

He laughed, shaking his head. "Just don't expect me to start wearing one of those frilly pink aprons."

With the cookie dough prepared, you moved on to the pastries. Rolling out the dough, you instructed Mattheo on how to fold in the butter to create flaky layers. He listened intently, his usual loud temperament now tempered by a genuine desire to learn by your side. You worked side by side, your hands brushing occasionally as you passed ingredients and tools back and forth. The house-elves had left a pot of hot cocoa on the stove, and you poured two mugs, the rich, velvety liquid a perfect complement to the cozy atmosphere.

"Cheers," Mattheo said, raising his mug to meet yours with a wink.

"Cheers," you replied, clinking your mug against his. The cocoa was rich and creamy, warming you from the inside out.

As you wiped your hands on a towel, Mattheo’s deep gaze lingered on your face. "You’ve got a bit of flour . . ." he said softly, leaning in. His fingers brushed against your cheek, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver down your spine.

His hand lingered there for a moment longer, his gaze dropping from your eyes to your lips. The playful atmosphere shifted, and the well-known tension filled the space between the two of you. Time seemed to slow as he moved even closer, his breath mingling with yours. Before you could fully process the moment, his lips were on yours, soft and warm, tasting faintly of cocoa and the sweetness of the evening.

You responded instinctively, your hands reaching up to rest on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingers. He deepened the kiss, his hand moving to cup the back of your head, pulling you even closer than you were. The kiss was both gentle and urgent, warming your soul and mind.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting together. The kitchen, with its warmth and golden light, felt like a different world, one where only the two of you existed. Mattheo’s dark eyes searched yours, a mixture of vulnerability and affection hidden in his irises.

"That was..." he began, but you silenced him with another quick kiss, smiling against his lips as your fingers gripped the hair at the back of his nape.

"Perfect," you finished for him, your heart full to bursting.

In that quiet, golden-lit room, surrounded by the warmth of the fire and the comforting presence of your sweet boyfriend, you knew you had found something truly special. The baking, the laughter, the stolen kiss – it all came together to create a moment of pure magic, one you would cherish forever.

03 - PAINTING

The art room at Hogwarts was a hidden gem, tucked away in a lesser-known corner of the castle not so many students knew about. It was a spacious, high-ceilinged room filled with the scents of paint and canvas, the walls adorned with student artwork from years past. The large windows let in the afternoon sunlight, casting a warm glow over the space. Easels stood ready with blank canvases, and tables were laden with paints, brushes, and palettes.

You and Mattheo had decided to spend the afternoon here, taking a break from the usual hustle of school life.

"Alright," you said, setting up your easel and arranging your paints. "Remember, every five minutes, we switch."

Mattheo nodded, a grin spreading across his face. "Got it. But don’t expect anything too impressive from me. I can barely draw a straight line."

You laughed, squeezing a bit of blue paint onto your palette. "That’s the fun of it. Just go with the flow."

With everything ready, you both took your places in front of your easels. The room was filled with a comfortable silence, the only sounds being the soft rustle of brushes on canvas and the occasional clink of paint jars. You started with broad strokes, laying down a wash of color to form the background. Your movements were confident and sure, years of practice guiding your hand.

Mattheo, on the other hand, approached his canvas with a bit more trepidation. He dipped his brush into the paint and made his first tentative strokes, glancing over at you occasionally for inspiration. You smiled reassuringly, giving him a thumbs-up. Despite his self-professed lack of skill, there was something endearing about the way he threw himself into the task, determined to make the best of it.

The first five minutes flew by, and soon it was time to switch. You moved to Mattheo’s easel, examining his work with a thoughtful smile. He had started with a simple landscape, a few rolling hills under a blue sky. It was basic, but it had potential. You picked up a brush and began to add your own touches, blending colors and adding a bit of story to the scene.

Mattheo moved to your canvas, eyes widening at the intricate swirls of color you had already laid down. "Wow," he murmured, "how am I supposed to add to this?"

"Just do your best," you replied, a playful challenge in your voice.

The next five minutes passed in a blur of color and creativity. You found yourself getting lost in the process, enjoying the way your styles melded together. When it was time to switch again, you couldn’t help but laugh at the changes Mattheo had made to your painting. The Slytherin had added a few playful touches, turning a serene sky into a playful scene with cartoonish clouds.

"Nice touch," you said, grinning at him as you moved back to your easel.

He shrugged, a sheepish smile on his face. "I figured it needed a bit of character."

As the afternoon wore on, Mattheo grew increasingly confident. With each switch, he added bolder strokes and more imaginative elements to the paintings. His hesitation gave way to a sense of pride and enthusiasm that was too difficult to not return. You found yourself enjoying the challenge of working with his unpredictable thoughts, the paintings slowly turning into mosaics of your combined efforts.

By the time the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the art room, you both stepped back to admire your work. The canvases were a glimpse of color and creativity, showing the teamwork you put into it. The landscape Mattheo had started was now a dreamlike scene, with white clouds and pretty flowers woven into the hills and sky. The painting you had begun was equally transformed, full of charm and ideas.

Your boyfriend crossed his arms, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. "Not bad for a guy who can’t paint, huh?"

You laughed, shaking your head. "Not bad at all. I’m impressed."

He tilted his head with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Maybe I’m more talented than I thought. Perhaps I missed my calling as an artist."

"Don’t get too full of yourself, Riddle. But I have to admit, you did better than I expected," you rolled your eyes playfully at him. That was your man, after all.

"Better than expected?" he repeated, brows furrowed as he brought a hand to his heart. "I think you mean I was brilliant."

You reached up to brush a stray bit of paint from his cheek, your fingers lingering for a moment. "Alright, Picasso. I’ll give you that. You were brilliant."

His eyes softened, and he leaned in closer. "Thanks for teaching me. I had a lot of fun."

"Me too," you replied, giving his hand a squeeze. "We should do it again."

He nodded, his gaze lingering on your face. "Definitely."

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nthspecialll · 7 months ago

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pleasee could you yap about dutch and tilly because im sad they had zero interactions even though he saved her and brought her into the gang🙏🙏

I have had a few requests like this and I have gathered all the thoughts, but haven't been able to write them out, but let's try again🥲 And I will also try to make a full post about Tilly and the gang.

Right, so, while it is easy to find out what Tilly thinks of Dutch, figuring out what Dutch thinks about Tilly is hard due to the fact that they have no camp interactions nor does he even talk about her, but that in itself is a cue, however let's return to that later.

Tilly views Dutch as a father figure of a sort. At some point after the age of twelve Dutch found Tilly after having escaped the Foreman brothers, she was described as "the sweetest little thing we ever saw that melted even the coldest of hearts", so we can presume that she was at least still in her early teen years.

In a camp interaction we can hear Tilly talk about how Dutch brought her in, raised her, taught her to read and so on and so forth. She is grateful for this and she really trusts her, even in chapter 6 she is loyal to him, even though she is scared for her life and wonders what will happen, she does support Dutch and she justifies Molly's murder.

However, I think something interesting happened. Tilly is "part of the core gang" if you will, she is part of the main family of Dutch, Hosea, John and Arthur, or she would have been had she been a man. She does not do jobs like the boys, she doesn't do scams or similar things on a larger scale, she is a woman and she is tending to camp. It is similar to how Susan is part of the family but also often left out.

If she had been a boy, Dutch would have had a use for her, he could have taught her to be a master thief like John and Arthur, he could have had another blank canvas to make art from, but she isn't, she is a woman and thus she is kind of just put to the side, her job is chores and there isn't much more to that, it makes her uninteresting to him because he can't use her, she is just there doing the preperations needed for him to go work and he can't be bothered to think about it.

When she was young, when he brought her in, while Dutch was generally in a different state of mind we can still think of why he did what he did, and I think it was status and adventure. When he brought her in there was some adventure in it, something new and exciting, maybe even a challenge, not to mention he would know that he needed someone to mend their clothing and fix their socks and a girl who could do that and rob when times got tough was a good deal.

On a similar note, saving Tilly is a status, it shows him being kindhearted, while he is actually just helping himself and it also gives him a form of bragging rights because other gangs like Colm doesn't do it, yet he does.

All of that said, once the excitment of Tilly being a fancy new toy ran out, he discarded of her in the way he threw her over to Susan and moved along.

Tilly isn't just forgotten as a daughter by us, but also by her father himself.

Thank you for the ask! Hope it answers it and sorry tha I haven't been able to asnwer it before :,D

#rdr2 #rdr2 community #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 arthur #red dead redemption community #red dead redemption two #john marston #rdr john #red dead fandom #dutch rdr2 #rdr2 dutch #dutch van der linde #rdr2 tilly #tilly jackson #nthspecialll #nthspecialll asks

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applepie2523 · 10 months ago

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"[RANT] The problem with Rhaenyra

Show Discussion

It's clear that *House of the Dragon* and *Fire & Blood* are two different beasts with two different goals. HOTD understandably cuts the historical ambiguity and focuses on a more digestible narrative, leaning in hard on the ASOIAF-esque themes of war, monarchy and gender. Doubling down on and expanding the book's diametric framing of Alicent & Rhaenyra is an understandable direction, as is the latter's role as the indisputable protagonist.

This direction of a traditional hero archetype makes sense for her character, just as a traditional tragic backstory does for Alicent's. I do, however, find the application of this and the aforementioned thematic goals to have all but suffocated any interesting facets of Rhaenyra Targaryen's character.

To me, Alicent's writing is muddled and confused; the goal is unclear and the portrayal of the many possible readings is inconsistent.

Conversely, when it comes to Rhaenyra I can see exactly what I believe they are trying to accomplish; it's successful, simple and to the point. I just hate what that thing is.

The Princess and the Queen

Book Rhaenyra is a complicated topic, but for the purposes of this post it's not that complicated. She is fraught with misinformation due to the biased nature of F&B, and so some of the things she does may not have even happened; nonetheless, what appears in the book is inevitably the audience's impression of her character, the information the writers have to work with, and the general situation through which the Alicent vs Rhaenyra feud is filtered. There was a lot to work with, but ultimately the writers had a blank canvas. Rhaenyra's motivations and even actions were up for grabs, and it was up to them to pick and choose, and create altogether, depending on the kind of story they wanted to tell.

I'll get to the point: Rhaenyra starts out strong then falters. As a child (The princess) she is compassionate and fiery, but with clear flaws: headstrong, rude, rebellious, insecure and, most fascinatingly, a rejection of motherhood; as an adult (The queen -- see what I did there?) she is graceful, motherly, patient, merciful, brave, determined, humble, peaceful, perfect and any other virtuous trait you can imagine.

Unfortunately, even Young Rhaenyra's flaws are not really presented as such. Her decision to hire Criston Cole as a Kingsguard is presented and confirmed by the writers as intelligent, her trash-talking Lady Redwyne for criticizing Daemon's war-mongering is presented as a deserved moment of sass, and her publicly mocking multiple men vying for her hand is presented as humorously relatable.

In fact, the only genuine flawed action she exhibits in all her episodes is making a comment diminishing the wants of the smallfolk when hearing they may not accept her as queen -- yet, we get no development on this front, and Rhaenyra no longer thinks this way come adulthood.

The writing elects to sacrifice novelty for likeability, effectively so: She shows compassion to the white hart, because we don't like seeing animals get hurt; she has a night out with her uncle in Flea Bottom, because we think Daemon is cool; she recklessly rides on her dragon to save the day, because it's exactly what we would do if we had a dragon.

This approach continues as Rhaenyra's insecurities are tugged on each episode to evoke pity. Episodes 1-4 I would criticize for depicting the same arc to varying degrees: **She feels undervalued, unwanted and alienated from her father, finally they reconcile near the end of the episode; however, the final moments leave us with an ambiguous feeling of doubt.** This is repeated in all but one episode of Young Rhaenyra, with she and Viserys finally on the same page in Episode 5. I'm not claiming her motivations to be nearly as inconsistent as Alicent's, but it's something to observe nonetheless.

And that's where the nice things I have to say about Rhaenyra sadly end. Because once we get to Episode 6 of S1 and onwards, it becomes increasingly clear what the writers' intentions were for her.

The motherhood problem: A tangent

I feel that the most interesting aspect of Young Rhaenyra by far was her aversion to motherhood and the innate prison she felt it placed upon her. The seeds of her contempt for these feminine confines -- the Arya to Alicent's Sansa -- grow upon her mother's death and hang over her interactions with Viserys, Alicent, Daemon, even Rhaenys.

This is a trait which the second half of the season completely abandons and skips over, instead dealing with an adult Rhaenyra having given birth five times and being pregnant with a sixth. Having spent girlhood in fear of being a woman defined by her womb, Rhaenyra's identity now heavily revolves around being a mother, something that continues into the second season.

It's a jarring change, character development in the most crudest of technicalities; fit for a twitter post but not necessarily for a narrative. Point A to Point B is not a story if there is no bridge in between. Like Alicent, Rhaenyra changes so jarringly off-screen, and her very different actor's performance exaggerates these changes, however unlike Alicent this discrepancy is not giving an on-screen cause.

Rather than exploring how Rhaenyra grapples with these complex feelings, all of her children are perfect and so is she. Instead "motherhood" is once again a way to either summon cheap "aww"-bait or to hand-wave female character dynamics: Rhaenys didn't kill the Greens because of Alicent being a mother, despite killing numerous mothers moments previously; Alicent has a change of heart about Rhaenyra because of her being a mother, despite using her newborn to be vindictive and borderline sadistic.

One of the most egregious examples of the shallow use of Rhaenyra's motherhood is a scene where Luke bemoans, without a shred of insincerity, that he cannot live up to Rhaenyra because she is too "perfect". On a small scale... has any fourteen year-old boy ever called his mom perfect? This is also followed up by one of my least favorite tropes, Rhaenyra perfectly responding to the accusation with "I am anything but perfect", the icing on top of this sickeningly sweet cake. I don't know, this is the only scene I cannot articulate my issue with. It does on a larger scale, however, broadly highlight my main issue with Rhaenyra's characterization: She is too perfect.

I understand Fire & Blood is intentionally written to be biased against Rhaenyra, and perhaps in reality she is a perfect person. But in that case the biased medium surely makes a more engaging story. In transitioning to a medium with one clear narrative, you need complexity that goes beyond miscommunication drama, and you need tension that comes from things other than the protagonist being a perfect human in an imperfect realm.

The protagonist that was promised

There is no scarcity of flaws when it comes to the biased depiction of Rhaenyra in the books. She beheaded Vaemond Velaryon and fed him to her dragon for calling her children bastards and she called for a little boy to be tortured upon him insulting those bastards.

I understand these biased accounts are biased... but is it unreasonable to want Rhaenyra to be responsible for a single questionable act or at least embody some flaws?

The only actions of hers that could be considered morally wrong in the show are so casually swept under the rug that I wonder if they were meant to be wrongs in the first place. She orders the murder of an innocent serving man at the behest of her goal to marry Daemon and intentionally traumatizes Laenor's now-childless parents. Like with Young Rhaenyra's many "flaws", is this truly depicted as a flaw? Does anybody watching this episode treat this with the severity it deserves? I saw more people blaming Alicent for the murder of Harwin and Lyonel Strong. Any moral consideration gets deflated by the reveal that Laenor is alive. The same can be said of Rhaenyra calling for the torture of Aemond. Despite this clear contextual meaning in the book, and the exact words being adapted, this can only be interpreted as a literal "sharp questioning" following Viserys doing just that.

Why not write a situation where Rhaenyra is extremely protective of her children's claims to the point that she is involved in Vaemond's death? Why must Daemon bear all her sins? I understand her feeding a human corpse to a dragon could be viewed as one of many F&B embellishments, but it's actually from a more trustworthy source than stories used to malign Aegon's character, such as Mushroom's account of the child-fighting ring we end up seeing in Episode 9. Why not do something interesting and shocking with Rhaenyra for once?

Not to mention, Alicent not only continues to demand Lucerys' eye in the show, but grabs a knife and makes to do the job herself. Alicent's violence is dialled up while Rhaenyra's is obfuscated.

The nail in the coffin for me is the existence of The Song of Ice and Fire. It's probably one of the most contentious plot points in HOTD, and for good reason, though not nearly enough for its weakening of Rhaenyra's character. She now has prophetic justification and her motivations are infallibly pure. To admit to a sole redeeming aspect of this point and her character, the idea of Rhaenyra resembling and following in Daemon's footsteps as a child, but resembling and following in Viserys' footsteps as an adult is a interesting and realistic concept. It's played well by Emma D'Arcy and creates great conflict between Rhaenyra and Daemon.

However, it also purifies Rhaenyra the same way the motherhood aspect does, undermining ASOIAF themes. Unlike the tragic failure and admonishing of Viserys' prophecy as he took immoral actions for his own dreams, Rhaenyra is completely justified every step of the way, up until and including her decision to go to war. (The prophecy being contradicted by GoT holds as much relevance as the context of "questioned sharply" in this show. What matters is presentation, and we are led to believe Rhaenyra acted perfectly with the information she was given.)

I feel that so many scenes would be more compelling if Rhaenyra simply wanted the throne out of ambition and an expressed confidence in herself. Had she rejected Criston Cole without divine purpose lingering in the background, it would be one of many ambiguous scenes where the audience is left to parse the authenticity of her stated goals: how selfless is she, really? Instead there is no question: the story is saying Rhaenyra on the throne is the ideal outcome for society.

The power paradox: Passive or Pacifist?

The show is consistently forced to undermine Rhaenyra due to reconciling its themes and goals.

How do you write powerful women who still struggle under patriarchy? How do you write realistic female characters not defined by their femaleness?

These are questions the show appears to struggle with, and it often takes the easy way out. The female protagonists, forced to strike the balance of the show's themes, end up having confused and ill-informed motivations, making them rightfully appear incompetent to the men around them. Despite this, the women of the show are the moral voices and the most innocent: Rhaenyra, Rhaenys, Alicent, Helaena and Mysaria. There is a clear dichotomy, and the significant non-flawed male characters I can think of are Jace and Luke, Rhaenyra's sons.

Because the themes demand that Rhaenyra wants peace, but the narrative demands war, it therefore also demands her failure to avoid it. The anti-war and anti-patriarchy message necessitates that Rhaenyra's judgement be superior to the men around her, however. Therefore, we're at an impasse and the plot must bend around Rhaenyra's motivations to fit these jigsaw pieces together.

This peace-seeking goal of Rhaenyra ends not with a bang, but a whimper. The justification is already tenuous -- the information that initially holds her conviction for peace gets reaffirmed, but this time pushes her to war? -- but the worst offender is how underwhelming it is. Despite Luke's death in the S1 finale being the expected and implied beat that spurs the long-anticipated Black Queen, Rhaenyra has one episode to showcase her grief (which is more than can be said for Alicent and Blood & Cheese) and is then promptly unaffected by the death of her son. Instead, she meanders for three more episodes around the idea of peace, before arriving at the Sept and awkwardly deciding it is now time to fight. Her character is not changed from the long string of tragedies -- her father dies, she finds out he was usurped, she has a miscarriage and then finds out Luke was murdered -- and is not even changed when she finally decides to embrace war. Why involve an arc for peace in the first place, if the plot is just going to get impatient? The plot is utterly irrational, evidenced by Rhaenys immediately being on the same page as Rhaenyra, despite being the one to guide her away from war in the first place and not having access to this new information that changed her mind.

Rhaenyra is necessarily both a victim to patriarchal expectations and a victor of them. The show's thematic interpretations demand this. She is consequently framed as the center of all Black decisions, unlike Aegon who is a useless puppet, but she does not actually make decisions, instead passively accepting when they are thrust upon her. I do not think this was intentional:

The choice to finally send dragons after many days of pressure via the councilmen, is voiced by Jace before she can discuss her change of heart; she accepts this. Her idea of going on dragonback herself is shut down; she accepts this. Rhaenys volunteers on account of Meleys' strength; she accepts this (and with wordless confirmation, no less). All three ideas: sending dragons, not going herself and sending Rhaenys, are said by other characters and Rhaenyra simply relents to them, allowing it all to happen. This notably follows a trip to King's Landing that caused her council to be thrown into chaos, a trip which she was also told by another character to take.

"Some have mistaken my caution for weakness" Mistaken? in the scene-hushing words of a hurried Hightower, "There's been no mistake. It's too late, Rhaenyra". Too late indeed, as Rhaenyra's strength continues to be undermined.

While Alicent's flip-flopping on her goals in the Dance was inevitable from the writers painting themselves into a corner, that dissonance does not exist with Rhaenyra as the plot, narrative and characters bend to her will to make her justified. Her goals are perfectly aligned with the narrative's morals. War should be cautioned against until Rhaenyra is ready, and then it's justified.

If the excuse for Alicent's agonizing perpetual passivity is telling the story of the failures of self-imposed submissive feminine roles, what is Rhaenyra's excuse for also being so passive?

The Dany problem: A tangent

This is a theory, but I think the issues stem from a motivation to do "Daenerys done right". In parts I agreed with this idea at first, in parts I didn't. However, although I expected the show to explore the patriarchal themes of the Dance, I wasn't a fan of Rhaenyra herself being given motives of political advocacy.

What makes Rhaenyra as a concept interesting to me is actually her remarkable ordinariness. She is simply a woman claiming her birthright, just as the men who came before her did, only her existence is unfairly scrutinized.

The problem is Show Rhaenyra is unrealistically virtuous. I understand the motivation to make her patient and graceful in the face of a reputation littered with misogynistic nicknames such as "The bitch/whore of Dragonstone". But I don't want her to be Daenerys, to want to free the world from slavery or patriarchy. I like that Rhaenyra is simply fighting for the throne because she's the heir, with no noble goals.

It's true: Rhaenyra in F&B could, for all we know, have some Cersei-esque lamentations on the male privilege she misses out on, but like Cersei I feel that these should be confined to Rhaenyra's own selfish interests and not trying to meaningfully fight the patriarchy. If GRRM wanted to write a story where she is advocating for egalitarianism and not simply claiming her birthright, then Rhaenyra would have likely given birth to daughters to make the stakes for her victory higher. Instead they are sons, and Rhaenyra is fighting for her own interests -- the patriarchy is simply in the way.

This legacy of Daenerys nonetheless hangs over Rhaenyra, much like Game of Thrones understandably hangs over House of the Dragon. Indeed, they are both dragonriding women aiming to be the first queen whose claim to the throne resides in succeeding their father. But I think the writers are trying too hide to fill the void left by GoT's disappointing conclusion and projecting this heroic Targaryen "girlboss" energy onto a character that would truly thrive without it.

She witnesses cosmic signs of her importance, such as the white hart in S1. defying the idea of Aegon as a king even so early on. Syrax is also made to be the mother of Dany's dragons, instead of Dreamfyre. In case it wasn't obvious enough.

Missing the mark: Misogyny and Monarchy

The sexism of the Dance is because Rhaenyra, as a woman, is existing in a way that puts her at odds with a patriarchal society. Her character is picked apart more than if she were a man: a merciful queen is weak and soft; a merciless queen is hysterical and insane. The soul-eating nature of this double standard and the lose-lose situation it puts women under is the type of sexism GRRM is commenting on. He understands this nuance. It seems that the showrunners do not.

Rhaenyra in the show is instead the most objectively deserving of the throne. Her lack of flaws and her persistent positive traits are one thing, but being divinely justified thanks to the prophecy and intentionally wanting to unite the realm is what demonstrates the show writers were unable to meld critiques of patriarchy and monarchy in the same story.

The idea that she would make a good ruler if only the men would give her a shot completely misses the point that under monarchy there is no "good ruler". This is a bad feudal system that goes against the will of the people and prioritizes rich families holding onto power so they can continue to be rich.

Rhaenyra does not need to be a vastly superior ruler to communicate this; the point is that women should actually get to be mediocre or even bad rulers (just as men can be) without their leadership being tied to their womanhood. Neither Aegon nor Rhaenyra should be exceptionally bad or exceptionally good, but average rulers who get pushed into doing horrible things because of the succession crisis that tears the realm apart.

And this is what makes the Dance compelling to me. It's two spoiled brats clawing for power and destroying their family because of it.

The show meanwhile beats us over the head, episode by episode, with how screwed the realm would be if Aegon were king, and how much of a utopian paradise we would get if Rhaenyra were queen. In all likelihood they would both probably listen to their counsels and maybe make a bad decision here or there, like most kings. The stakes are the war itself, not who ends up on it, which would be negligible. The show has made an error in essentially justifying this wry from Rhaenyra's perspective by in every moment instilling it into the audience that it will all be worth it if Rhaenyra one day rules.

Monarchy is thematically bad in ASOIAF and F&B. If the two claimants are bad rulers, it's not because they are bad people unfit to be monarchs, it's because there are no good rulers under monarchies. The bigger picture is that nepo baby dictators, including Rhaenyra, are not a good thing.

It should be a bloody fight between two vindictive privileged children of the king who feel they are entitled to the throne no matter who it harms, rather than a one-sided tale about our hero being punished again and again for trying to save the world.

I think in navigating strong female characters, as long as we see Rhaenyra struggling with these gendered issues, then it really only comes down to one thing: What makes for a more interesting character? To flawlessly push for the right decision, or to have surprising traits that make us think about and question her character?

This is why, ultimately, I am disappointed in Rhaenyra Targaryen's character. Thank you for reading."

#anti hotd #hotd meta #team green #team black #hotd critical #alicent hightower #rhaenyra targaryen #house of the dragon #hotd #anti rhaenyra targaryen #anti alicent hightower #anti rhaenys targaryen #asoiaf

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a-live-wire · 5 months ago

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The tragedy of Sky is that we never got to truly know her.

There's not that many scenes where's she's alive, and all they reveal to us is that's she's from Zaun, she's an assistant in the lab, she has some feelings for Victor and there's some idea she wanted to share with him shortly before unexpectedly dying. All this is pretty much seen from an outsider perspective.

The only scene where she's alone is the couple of seconds while she walks to the lab, where Viktor experiments with the Hexcore. The only character she has more than one interaction with is, again, Viktor, who doesn't seem to be very close to her, keeping the distance of a professional relationship, never showing any deeper interest (he call's Sky 'miss Young' even though she adresses him as 'Viktor', and either dismisses or doesn't pick up on her inviting him to leave the lab together that one evening).

When he finally sees her as another person, learning something personal about her, her dreams, from her journal, she's already dead, and all that's left is a second hand source of who she was, to construct an image of her.

According to her writings, her vision is similar to Viktor and Jayce's , as it was in the beginning. After the experiment with the Hexcore goes so horribly wrong, and with the separation between Jayce and Viktor, I think it makes sense it's something Viktor would latch on to, something that could lead him back on the 'right' track of 'helping' people, as he always wanted.

If we're going with the idea that the Sky we see in the space scape(?) is not some ghost, or a soul, but a projection, an avatar of the Hexcore, it truly chose the perfect face.

On one hand, Sky represents a vision, a cause that Viktor can get behind, but also the guilt he has for accidentally getting her killed, a complete opposite of what he ever wanted, which makes a great persuasion tool. And since he didn't know her very well personally, there's much room to adjust and tweak her personality, speech pattern, facial expressions, as needed, because he might not know if it's correct, but neither if it's wrong.

She does act more confident around Viktor in the space-scape, like a partner, more than a colleague she has feelings for (as we've seen previously, she did seem a little nervous talking to him when she was alive). There's also the detail of her ghost form not wearing glasses anymore, though I don't have any particular analysis of that.

In conclusion, the pastel-ghost Sky that haunts Viktor is, in my opinion, a mix of his projection and the Hexcore leading him where it needs him, taking advantage of the blank canvas it has access to thanks to Viktor not forming a closer bond to her before her death. She still has an impact on the narrative and Viktor, or rather, the idea of her has. But neither Viktor or us really knew her, and we never will.

#arcane #arcane season 2 #viktor arcane #arcane viktor #sky arcane #arcane sky #analysis #at least an attempt #pretty much just my ramblings be nice

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i-literally-cant-with-this · 1 year ago

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A/N ::: New writing territory alert! I haven’t written anything like this before. And I’ll tell you all a secret, *I fucking loved it.* I hope you guys enjoy this, too. Thanks for reading!

C/W ::: Sex, themes of violence just in case. MILD SPOILERS FOR MHA (Between Endeavor/Shoto/Shoto’s mom), angst, cheating, terrible terrible parenting, dom(ish?)!Endeavor, size kink (?), “say my name”, praise, degradation (self-deprecation, too), pet names (firefly, good girl & others) “daddy” talk, little bit of biting, orgasm control, F->M oral, deep throating // (forceful) throat fucking, teensy bit of dacryphilia, hair pulling, face // chest cum shots, (heavily & non-verbally) encouraged cum eating, Shoto going in after Endeavor on F!reader // girlfriend // fuck toy. Whew! If I missed anything, shoot me a message.

WC ::: 3500+ (but not too much over)

It was after the Christmas party at your house and the only people left were your boyfriend, Shoto, and his dad, Enji. AKA Endeavor, the now number 1 hero. The two men stood there and stared each other down. Shoto and Enji have a shit relationship, to say the least. He was a shit dad and Shoto hasn't yet been able to at least move on from his childhood. Watching his mother get thrown around like she was nothing more than a dirty towel to be tossed aside. No, he wasn't ready to let his father into his life fully, just yet.

They stood across the large kitchen island, glaring at one another. Their arms folded across their broad chests. Neither one is willing to make the first move. You hated that they were behaving like this at your house. And you hated how you felt about both of them.

You were in love with Shoto. But you were in lust with his father. And you'd been sleeping with both of them for some time now. It's a miracle Shoto hasn't found out about you fucking his dad. Enji has no real feelings on the matter. You're not even sure if he has real feelings for you, at this point. You love his son. And there wasn't much in the world that could change that. But you crave Enji's cock.

"I just don't understand why you're still here, Endeavor." Shoto called him out by his hero name. "The party is over. You're free to go now. And maybe next time just stay home, yeah?" You looked at Enji, waiting for his reply. He just leaned there, against the counter he fucked you on 3 days ago. Not a twinge of guilt in his turquoise eyes, not a hint of interest in what his son was saying to him. Still.

"Sho?" You said more quietly than you intended to, hoping to break the tension between the two. "Do you want to take a walk, maybe?" He shifted his eyes toward you. Shoto stared, a steel gray eye and a turquoise eye, like his father's, burned into yours. So much anger radiated off of his body that you could almost feel it from where you were standing near the kitchen door. Shoto nodded his head and went to the living room to grab his coat and put it on as he walked toward the door. "You ... D'you want me to come with you?" You hated that you hated asking.

And it wasn’t because you didn't want to go with him out into the cold. The disgusting truth was that you didn't want to miss the opportunity to be alone with his dad. And you felt dirty about all of it. Shoto fucked you earlier in the day before the party. His cum was probably still oozing from your hole. If you concentrated hard enough, you could most likely feel it leaking out with how full you were from him.

He stayed by the front door for what felt like forever, just looking at you with no real emotion on his face. Just a blank canvas staring back at you before he shook his head no in an almost indistinguishable manner. Then he slammed the heavy wood door behind him. You fell onto the nearest chair and held your face in your hands and began to cry softly. What about, you weren't sure. The fact that you felt relief at having time to be with Enji again or the fact that you didn't have to play referee in your own home.

A wide, hot hand ran down your back and rested at your waist. "He's gone. For how long?" Enji asked. You wanted to melt into his touch. To jump over the chair and wrap yourself around his broad body. "I don't know, En. He could be 5 minutes, he could be 5 hours. And I think, I think that you should go, too." His lips curled into a wicked smile. "Now, firefly. You," he kissed the side of your neck hard and ran his oversized hand around your waist, "surely don't mean that. I can tell by how you're sitting you want me to shove my cock in your drippin' cunt."

Fuck. How can he tell that by how you're sitting? The asshole. He had come to know you so well in such a short amount of time. Almost as well as his son. It was a little nerve-wracking that they could both see through your shit. "Enj-!!" He was lifting you before you had a chance to protest his advance.

You wrapped yourself around his body. Your legs spread from the girth of his hips - despite them being narrow and angular in their own way. He was a big man. And it was so hard for you to tell him no when he was like this. It was painfully obvious how hard he was. And it was obvious to him how wet you were getting from just him hoisting you up like you were nothing more than a doll for him to wet his dick in.

The way he made you feel so small was a sickening and growing obsession. You both have managed to keep it from Shoto thus far. But on days like this, when you have no idea when he would be home, it was a dangerous game to play. "En ... fuck. We can't. Sh-Sho- shit. He can walk through the door any second." You said it in such a whiny voice it made his cock twitch against his thigh. "Let him. Let him see what it looks like when a real man fucks his girl. Who am I, firefly. Who, nngh," he adjusted you on his waist and started to carry you down the hallway to a bedroom. "Who am I."

His hands gripped your ass tightly as he kicked the door open and walked through it with little space to spare. "Enj, fuck. C'mon. Please ..." Your resistance was dwindling quickly as he got you closer to the spare bed. "Who's 'Enj'? Tell me ... exactly who ... the fuck ... I am. You little shit." He whispered against the shell of your ear. His hot breath sent shivers through your warming body.

And just like that, 3 words later, you were gone. Wrapping your arms around his neck and anchoring your heels on his ass you pushed/pulled yourself up onto him even further and ground against his pelvis. "There she is. There's my good girl, rubbin' that cunt against me. So needy for this fat cock, huh?" He leaned over you as you hung from him just a few inches over the bed. You clung to him like a desperate little baby. Enji waited for you to let go and lay under his huge frame.

You ran your hands down his back to the waistband of his dark blue slacks and slid them inside of his pants. His off-white cashmere sweater was a wild contrast to his rough hands and scarred body. But all of him felt good to you.

His body framed you against the small mattress. You lay there beneath him, trembling in anticipation of what he's going to make you do. "Take it ... off." He whispered again in your ear while he lifted himself up from you. You sat up and began to undress. He took off his own clothes, one piece at a time, watching you all the while.

He was so ... And it was so … wrong that you were about to fuck him in your own house. While your boyfriend was out in the cold. "Fuck," you whispered, shaking your head as you slipped your bra off and flung it to the floor. "Fuck it, En." You pulled him down to the bed with you and kissed him hard.

The smell of his cologne and the taste of his tongue made you high. It made you want him more than you wanted to admit to yourself. The heady fragrance had you so wet that you could barely look him in the eyes. "Well," he said in a low growl. "Lookit what we have here. My little firefly is so fuckin' wet for her pissant of a boyfriend's dad, huh? Shame on you, girl. You're so dirty for this, aren't you? Fucking filthy little bitch, hm?"

You bit your bottom lip, it felt like you were nearly drawing blood. Finally, you nodded your head and looked up at him and whimpered so pathetically. "Yessss, daddy. 'M a filthy little bitch. I'm disgusting … hnngh, please, Enj- please Endeavor, fuck me. Oh god, fuck … meee-uhhh." You were babbling and begging him to do something. Anything. You just needed his cock in you.

Your fingers dug into the flesh of his shoulders as he leaned over you and rubbed his cockhead against your clit. "That's it, baby. So wet and ready for me. Let daddy fuck you. Let me fuck you better than my little runt of a son can." He thrust into you quickly and you cried out as your body struggled to adjust to the immediate stretch.

"Shhhh, shhh, baby. Be a good girl and take this dick. Fuckin' take it, baby. You can do it." His hips worked quickly and furiously as he slammed into you. Your legs trembled and your back arched as he fucked you with a fervor you didn't know existed in him. "Fuckohhhhfuck! En-Endeav-fuckfuck!" He bit your neck hard and you moaned into his shoulder as you came around him.

He flipped you onto your stomach and grabbed your ass, pulling you up onto your knees and spreading your legs open. "Now that you're all warmed up ..." You braced yourself for the intrusion, but his cock slid inside of you with ease. The copious amount of slick he dragged from you made it nearly free of any resistance. "Ohhh, yeah. That's my fuckin' girl. Take it, take it like the nasty whore you are. C'mon, fuck that fat ass of yours into me, firefly. I wanna watch you bounce back on my cock. Fuck, that's it."

He leaned back and watched you work your body back and forth, pushing yourself onto his cock and then pulling back. "Fuck, baby. You're so good at this. You're so good for me. Keep going, fuck that cock. Mm-hm, back into me, fuck, fuuuckk yeah." You felt filthy as you did as he told you. The way he was watching you bounce and fuck yourself on him was enough to make you cum again.

He pulled you back up to him and wrapped his hand around your throat. "Oh, you think you can cum without my permission, huh? You little slut, you can't do shit until I tell you to." You whimpered and nodded your head, trying to say sorry. "Don't ... fucking speak. Just open your mouth and let me fuck it."

He pulled out of you and stood at the edge of the bed, motioning for you to scoot around and lay in front of him. You moved over so your face was just under his cock and he tapped the head on your lips. "Open up, firefly. 'M gonna fuck your throat now since you can't seem to control that cunt of yours. C'mon, pop that tongue out f'me. Say 'ahhh' and relax."

You stuck your tongue out and opened your mouth, looking up at him with what you hoped was a look of submission. He smirked down at you and ran his fingers through your hair. "Good girl. That's my fuckin' girl. Take it, take … aha, shhiitt … it." He shoved his cock into your mouth and fucked your throat. Your eyes watered as he thrust against the back of your throat.

You coughed and gagged, but he kept going. "You know I love watching you cry, little girl. Keep it up and I might just cum in your mouth for you. Y'wan that? Huh? Want me to make a mess of your pretty face?" He pushed himself further into you and you gagged again, nodding your head. "Goddamn it, girl. You're so fuckin' dirty for me. I just can't get enough of it. You're so fuckin' lewd."

He pulled out of your mouth and grabbed a fistful of your hair, pulling your head back as he shot his load onto your face and chest. "Ohhhh, fuck! Fuck, that's my little bitch. Lookit you, so filthy and used. You're such a whore, little girl. Such a dirty whore." He ran his finger through his cum on your cheek and pushed it into your mouth.

You sucked his cum off of his fingers, moaning as you did it. He grabbed his clothes and pulled them back on. "Thanks, firefly. See you next time." He grabbed you by the back of the head, kissed you hard on the mouth and left the bedroom, closing the door behind him. You heard him leave the house and you fell back onto the bed, breathing hard. It took you about 10 minutes to regulate yourself. Replaying the events that had just unfolded in your foggy mind.

You didn't have much time to think about it before you heard Shoto's keys in the door. So you jumped up and ran for the shower across the hall. "Firefly? I - I'm home. Where are you?" Shoto asked as he hung his coat and dropped his keys on the entryway table. "Is the old man gone? I didn't see his car, so I'm hoping ... hoping he is." He saw you dart across the way to the bathroom and heard the water turn on. "Hey. There you are," he said quietly. "D'ya mind if I join you in there? 'M freezin' my ass off."

Hell. Of course he wanted to shower with you. "Yeah yeah. Sure. Just give me like 10 minutes to wash the day off of me, ok, Sho? I just, I feel ... icky. After the party, I mean. Just wanna clean up. And then you can stand under the hot water, ok?" He smiled and tried to lean in to kiss you but you pulled back and looked around the room. Smirking, you said, "Ah-ah-ah mister. There's no mistletoe in here!” And laughed like a stupid girl who wasn't fucking her boyfriend's asshole of a father while he was out in the freezing weather. Away from his home, just to get away from his dad.

"Ohp, ya got me there, firefly. I'll have to pick some up in that case. Just let me know when you're ready for me, ok?" You smiled and blew him a kiss feeling your hand stick to the cum that was nearly all dried now. Turning on the shower you tested the water. Briefly contemplating turning the heat all the way up and scalding yourself for being such a whore. But you decided against it, knowing you'd have to explain it to Shoto later. And you just couldn't bring yourself to hurt him that way. Not even after what you just did.

He was waiting for you in your bedroom, scrolling through his phone, when you called for him. You stood with the shower door open and motioned for him to come in with you. "You ok, baby? You seem, I dunno. Off." He pulled you into his chest and kissed from your shoulder to your neck, to your lips. "Yeah, I'm fine Sho. Just tired, I guess. I hate when you and your dad go head to head like that. I mean, I know you didn't fight like you usually do. But I just hate to see you so upset." You look up and rest your forehead against his, sighing heavily.

"I'm sorry, firefly. I know. I just, he just ... He's such a fuckin' prick and I don't know what else to do with him. He just, he's so much easier to deal with when you're around. I dunno why. It’s like he’s less of an asshole when … huh. Well, when you’re there. I guess he must really like you." He kissed your neck and ran his fingers through your wet hair. You turned to face him and held onto his waist. "I love you, Sho. I love you so much." He looked down at you with a sad smile. "I know you do. And I love you, too." He pulled you up and kissed you deeply.

The taste of your own cum was still in your mouth from swallowing Enji's cock, but Shoto didn't seem to notice. He was just happy to be back with you. You both laughed as you played in the water. Teasing one another and fooling around. "Hey, Sho?" You said as you pulled the shower head down and rinsed him off. "Hmm?" He closed his eyes and let you do whatever you were doing. "Merry Christmas. I'm glad you're here with me. You're the best thing that's happened to me in a long time." You turned the water off and stepped out of the shower, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around you. "Merry Christmas to you, too, my love. And I'm glad I'm here with you, too."

You kissed him and then grabbed another towel for him. He wrapped it around his waist and followed you into the bedroom. As you passed into your room, you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Your mascara was running and your eyes were red. The bruise on your neck from Endeavor was still visible and you hoped like hell that Shoto didn't see it. Though you don’t know how he could possibly miss something like that. So large and new.

You turned to him and smiled. "Hey, Sho? Could you bring me something for pain? My head is killing me right now." He nodded and left the room to grab something from the kitchen. You went to the mirror and stared at yourself. "You're a fucking whore," you whispered to yourself. "And you can't stop it." You knew it was true. You just hoped you could keep it from Shoto for a little bit longer.

"Hey, here you go, baby. Take these and lay down. Let me get you something to drink. Do you want me to bring you anything else?" You smiled at him and shook your head. "No, Sho. This is all I need right now. Just you and me. Here. At home." You took the medicine he gave you and watched him leave the room. You curled up in your bed and covered yourself up, feeling so guilty and so fucking gross. It made you feel sick. And it made you feel good. You were just a whore. A filthy, disgusting whore who was in love with her boyfriend and in lust with his father. And you had to live with it. You had to live with the fact that you weren't strong enough to stop yet.

Shoto came in and took the towel off of his waist and crawled into bed with you, scooching up next to you really close and nuzzling his face into the curve of your neck. “How does your head feel, firefly? Is it any better?” He asked as he began to kiss your collarbone and roll your nipple with his thumb and finger. “Is there something else I can do? To make it go away? Like …” He slid down the bed. Under the covers and between your legs and you felt him lick a fat strip up your slit. “Oh, Sho- ffuucckk, baby, I - hnngh … please … d-don’t …” Tears pricked your eyes as you felt him spreading you open and sucking on your clit. He laughed, “You’re so wet already. You gonna say ‘don’t stop’? Don’t worry baby. I’ll never stop. Never.”

You realized that you just wanted to be loved. You close your eyes and indulge your sweet boyfriend with his love of eating your pussy and prayed that it would all go away. That it would all just disappear. And that you would be free. Free of the guilt and the shame. And the lust for his dickhead father. You just wanted to be free of it all. And you didn't know if you could. Not yet. So you just lay there, basking in the warmth of your lover and his tongue lapping at your juices (and some of his father's) like he truly knew what it was like to be thirsty. And you rode out your orgasm. Crying tears of guilt and regret and only a little bit of pleasure. And you waited for it all to be over. But deep down, you knew it wouldn't be,

Not for a long, long time.

Taglist ::: @arlerts-angel @darkstarlight82 @callm3senpaii @millennialmagicalgirl

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noturlondonboy · 7 months ago

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Also genderqueer Kate with yelena! What are your hc about them together?

Hi anon, thanks so much for this ask 🥰

I’ve only written about Kate exploring her gender after she and Yelena have already been dating, but I reallyyyyyyy love the idea of her already having figured it out before they meet. And here’s why! :>

(This is a THIRD try because my first draft didn’t save and my second one that I was JUST FREAKING WRITING-)

Anyone ever seen the post about the story idea of a girl falling for a boy and a girl and being really conflicted about who she likes more but then they turn out to be the same gender-fluid person

Yeah that’s what’s up

-first off, when Kate is so masculine that feminine stuff is uncomfy, that’s when we pull out the new name and pronouns

-drumroll please… meet Kit Bishop

-Yelena meets Kate in one of her classes (this one is a college au now I guess?) and they immediately hit it off, and Kate is crushing HARD. She already knows who Yelena is through Clint and therefore through Natasha, but they’ve never actually met, and Yelena doesn’t hear about Kate nearly as much as Kate hears about her

-later in the week in a different class, Yelena meets Kit, which is ultimately confusing. We’re just gonna pretend that a gender swap completely fools her (if that’s the right word for this) and she really just doesn’t pick up on it. But again, she really likes this new classmate, who acts so friendly and familiar with her, like they’ve already met

-it takes Kate about a week and a half to realize that Yelena thinks this is two different people. She is therefore freaking the fuck out and also so intrigued because it’s funny ok

-Yelena has a freak out and just rants to Natasha one day about these two peers of hers who she thinks she might be crushing on, but she’s never been interested in boys/ male adjacent folks and this is weird for her and they seem so alike

-“OH FUCK NATASHA I THINK THEYRE TWINS- WHY ARE YOU LAUGHING?!?!”

-she asks Kate if she has a twin brother, to which Kate says no she’s an only child, and Yelena gets the same response from Kit

-she really is kinda oblivious and delulu here y’all stick with me

-Natasha knows that these are both the same people, so any time she sees Kate/Kit with Clint and hears about them from Yelena she kinda just giggles to herself

-Kate is trying to figure out how to put Yelena out of her misery and just admit that she’s both those people, and gender is her canvas to mess with however she wants

-Yelena finally says fuck it and asks both of them out for different nights, because who says she can’t go on non-commitment dates like that? Kit nearly slips and up and reminds Yelena that she already asked him out, but then stops and remembers and is a pussy and also incredibly turned on flattered that Yelena would initiate a date with someone she thinks is masculine identifying

-but in true K. Bishop fashion, this goofball gets the dates for the dates (haha) mixed up and arrives at the cafe as Kate when Yelena is expecting Kit (and also she woke up feeling feminine- can you blame a genderqueer girly for feeling like she’ll throw up if she doesn’t put makeup on?)

-Yelena is confused as fuck for a little bit and also worried that Kate will get upset if she thinks that Yelena is just messing around

-but Kate finally decides enough is enough and just point blank goes “Yelena. Sometimes I feel more like a boy, and sometimes I feel more like a girl, and sometimes I’m somewhere else entirely. I use all pronouns interchangeably and on some days, I go by Kit.”

-Yelena just kinda stares at her for a moment and then feels real dumb but Kate is like no wait I’m actually super flattered that you thought I passed so well it’s ok

-Kate apologizes for not telling her sooner but Yelena could care less she’s just having the biggest gay panic of her life and she just blurts out that she’d like to kiss her if that’s ok

-Kate is obviously down she’s not stupid

-“soooo… are we still on for next week too?”

-they go on a few dates before Yelena asks them to be her partner, and when she tells Natasha all she gets is a laugh and a “finally Jesus fuck”

-she slips into the changing names/pronouns/titles rather easily and quickly, which is super rad. They set up a system of check ins together each morning and sometimes just periodically throughout the day. “This is my partner- *looks over* yeah, this is Kate, my girlfriend.” “I just miss them, I miss him. Yeah, my boyfriend, that cute little guy I know”

-anyway that shit fucks hard and they’re gay your honor

#genderqueer!kate bishop #genderqueer kate bishop #genderqueer!Kate Bishop headcannons #anonymous #London answers asks #London can make friends #bishova #Yelena belova #fanfic #katelena #kate bishop #anon #asks #another wall of text go!

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darcyelain · 5 months ago

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My biggest issue with gwyn isn’t even her character. It’s the fact that some gwyn stans (obv not all - some are really nice) are so misogynistic.

They make up so many headcanons about gwyn and how great she is - which would be fine if they didn’t have to degrade other female characters to do it. Apparently gwyn is going to be Nyx’s mommy because Feyre’s not a good parent. Gwyn is going to yell at Feyre for not properly taking care of her son and snatch her baby out of her hands and snap her fingers in her face while Feyre is crying - and everyone (including Rhys) will admire gwyn for knowing how to calm a screaming baby and Azriel will be so in love because gwyn is just so nurturing. And of course Rhys will be besties with Gwyn and will confide in her over his wife/mother of his child…

And apparently gwyn is going to yell at elain and feyre for being bad sisters - and Azriel will admire gwyn for that. Oh, and she’s also going to be mean to Mor for no reason at all….

Usually I wouldn’t even comment on it. Let people make up headcanons and write the fics they want to write. But it’s telling to me that people seem to pit gwyn against every single female character. Feyre’s a mother? She’s a bad mother - gwyn is nurturing and loving and will step into the role as mommy. Elain is pretty and feminine? Gwyn is much more beautiful and girly - but also knows how to fight so that makes her more interesting. Mor is a fighter? Gwyn is a better fighter.

You can like gwyn without tearing down other women.

Hi, anon!

I am totally in the same boat as you. I try to be as vocal about this as possible because misogyny in this fandom has been ignored and normalized. I have no issue with Gwyn as a character. I love Nesta, and I appreciate how Gwyn adds to Nesta's story and gives her a friendship that she never got to have before. In the actual canon, she's a good friend and an ambitious woman. I personally think Emerie is more interesting and has more potential, but both characters are generally likable and serve their purpose well.

I want to expand on what you said because I've also seen that before and it really is disgusting. I have no issue with anybody loving a side character. I myself am a total sucker for Tarquin, you do need to expand on these more one/two-dimensional characters a little bit by using headcanons. However they do not stay true to Gwyn in the slightest, instead they turn her into a mean girl who bosses everybody around, and lets face it: they make her into a Mary Sue and give her a savior and superiority complex.

The reason I think they do this is because of G*ynriel shippers. As we know, it is a self insert ship. So these people want to imagine themselves with Azriel. That means they will put their own personalities in place of hers. We have her lore and a bit of her as a character, but not a lot, so she is enough of a blank canvas for them to put their gross misogynistic and bully fantasies into their headcanons when in reality Gwyn would never treat another woman this way. That is why people write her attacking Mor and Elain specifically, it's jealousy which is so weird to me.

Their misogynistic fantasies don't even make sense. Why would Gwyn yell at Feyre, Mor or Elain? (I have seen people giggling about Gwyn physically hurting Elain too.) What reason would she have? And why would she be involved in the Archeron's sisters business? Just because she's Nesta's friend that doesn't give her the right to treat her sisters like the ground she walks on. Also making Feyre cry in front of Rhys is a death sentence. He is not gonna praise anybody for treating his mate like shit. Look at him with Nesta, he can't stand her because of her relationship with Feyre. Anybody who hurts Feyre is an enemy of his. You can really tell some people did not read the books because they don't even know how to write a proper Feysand.

This poor character, who quite literally did nothing wrong is used a misogynistic weapon (BY HER OWN FANS) in the fandom. And that is very sad to me. I personally think that she would love Elain, Feyre and Mor. So yes, I agree. They are allowed to like Gwyn, they're allowed to make headcanons and make her as strong as they want. They can do whatever they want, but they need to leave their misogynistic fantasies away from her and any ACOTAR character. Just take it out of the fandom.

Sorry if there's any typos, I have a really annoying muscle twitch rn.

#anti g*ynriel #pro elriel

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blindmagdalena · 9 months ago

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hey, what are your thoughts on starlander/homelight? did you ever want to write about them? .

i like the ship a lot! i have two very specific fics i’ve always wanted to write, the first one being a rewrite of season 1 where homelander, frustrated with his disenfranchised squad of degenerates and drunks, prevents the deep from targeting her, and more directly takes her under his wing. it’d be interesting to see him take a more hands on approach with someone who isn’t only new to the team (a blank canvas for him) but who’s got genuine goodness in her. how he might see a small piece of himself in her ideals and her history of exploitation.

i always thought it was a shame that homelander became a villain to starlight before she really got to know him at all as a hero. i really want to explore what a more gradual reveal of the true nature of the seven would look like for annie, and the deconstruction of a man she likens to jesus.

the other fic i’m interested in writing is a more thorough expansion of the fake dating arc in season 3. it’s no secret that i found the avenue the show took a downright shameful lack of potential, and i really want to walk annie through finding out the truth of homelander’s childhood and the extent to which he is also a victim of Vought. the show rarely ever gives our heroes the chance to reconcile people who are both villains and victims.

#starlander #homelight #ask and you shall receive #darling anon #homelander #starlight

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ipsen · 2 months ago

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1 (blank canvas), 15, 23 for fic writer asks

Does anyone you know in real life know you write fanfiction?

my partner knows and a couple of my friends who wanted to read my smut. it was funny, but i prefer not to think about it

What’s a story you’d love to write but haven’t even started yet?

entertained victorian/regency au etoken, but don't have nearly enough jane austin-esque knowledge under my belt to know where to start. also politics hurts my brain to write and i can never keep track of all the moving pieces...

Write a scene from Blank Canvas in another character’s POV

under the cut!

Though he was alive, Haise was still severely injured: cracked ribs, ruptured diaphragm, and a heavy concussion just to name a few. And that was disregarding his eye injury, which required surgery. Sen was assured over and over and over that he’d be fine, but it did nothing to assuage the sound of her heart in her ears.

Now, she was in the waiting room, tapping her foot nervously and impatiently. Kimi had to force her to wait outside so that the surgery could continue, in her words, ‘without any distractions’. She assured Sen a thousand times that she would be given Haise’s room information when they were done. Until then, however, she was invited to wait.

Shiono had postponed all upcoming interviews regarding the book, so Sen now had all the time in the world. She could only hope the same was true for Haise.

She’d never been one for religion, and she wasn’t going to start now, but her hands were clasped in front of her, hoping, and hoping, and hoping this would go smoothly.

… God, he’d done a number on her, hadn’t he? The Sen of last year wouldn’t even think twice if this were Tatara or one of the Bins (sorry, Yumitsu). Haise Sasaki really was one in a million.

“Yo,” a familiar voice said.

She looked up to see Hide, wearing a black beanie and a thick jacket. She’d almost forgotten that winter was here; she’d covered up her whole body for as long as she could remember, to the point that the seasons barely mattered.

“Yo,” she replied as he took a seat nearby. “Where’s everyone else?”

“Unfortunately, they’re not as devoted to Sauce as you and I are,” he joked.

“What losers,” she said, shaking her head in disapproval.

He snickered. “Man, I knew I liked you!”

She smiled at him. “I gotta say, it’s nice to have a candid conversation with the Scarecrow.”

“Same to you, Owl,” he replied just as airily. “No more cryptic text messages to keep us apart! Finally, I can show you my true feelings!!”

She laughed at the sound of her own codename. “How’d you find me out?”

“Oh, nothing too crazy; I raid the Tsukiyama underwear drawer for a living. Y’know, sometimes I’ll switch to the Rosewalds, but those are basically diet Tsukiyamas, so…” He shrugged. “Anyway, Chie says they sell for millions to the right buyer, and I’m paid in passwords worth ten times more. I’m really just a glorified messenger. You?”

… What the fuck? That was way more interesting than things on her end! She sighed. “Haise ratted you out when he told me about Donato’s files.”

“Aw, what? Lame.” Hide tucked his hands behind his head. “Sheer dumb luck— really?”

“Really.” She paused for a moment. “Since you’re here— why?”

“Why what?”

“Don’t be stupid. Why’d you get into the business? Information smuggling, toppling corporations from the shadows… Why do you do it?”

He chuckled. “Would you believe me if I said that it was because my dearest, departed father died doing the same thing I’m doing now, and that I’m continuing his legacy, maybe even doomed to fall victim to the very same thing he did?”

“Not when you say it like that.”

“Good! Because I’m adopted, and I never knew my biological parents.”

(Sen, from Chapter 19: Daybreak)

some trivia: this was cut content from daybreak that i repurposed for this ask, and wanted to share bc i know u were fiending for some hide and sen content, cesium :)

#writing #blank canvas #ask

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peachshadows · 10 months ago

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Hey hey! While moving some of my writing around, I found an old draft of a version of your Sundown AU based on an idea from centuryberry about an apocalypse. It was MK only, since I didn't (and still don't) trust myself to get A-Dan's character quite right, but I was wondering if it would be okay to continue that? I can't remember if I asked before and wanted to double-check-in again.

Sure!! That sounds really interesting but make sure to credit me and berry!

Honestly A-Dan's characterization is more of a blank canvas like she has a lot of potential to be something you want her to be but as of now she's just a baby who loves her family and is mischievous like her parents :]

#asks #the sundown era #little dawn au

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kryptonbabe · 5 months ago

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Kitty and Logan go to Japan and I have no fun, a review

Kitty Pryde and Wolverine (1984) by Chris Claremont & Allen Milgrom

This last image I think perfectly encapsulates what this mini-series really is. Kitty Pryde is in the title of it, she's right in the middle of the action, but she's phasing, the action is actually done by others, she's a part of it, she's maybe changed by it, but not in a significant enough way. While I was briefly excited by the first issue, which is basically a solo Kitty issue, and how her increasingly reckless choices take her so far from home, things took another turn pretty soon, by the second issue Kitty is quite literally stripped of her agency and turned into a blank canvas to be trained and groomed by another character. What started as a girl's journey to save her dad and find out who she is without the X-Men and without her relationship with Colossus, suddenly becomes a second part of the Wolverine in Japan miniseries from 1982, and don't get me wrong, that series is great and I love Logan, but this should not be exclusively about Wolverine. And in a way it isn't, at least not in a fulfilling way, the Wolverine plot feels weightless while Kitty's story feels unfocused, her journey to affirm her own identity is muddled by how often the antagonist and Wolverine influence her. At some point she decides to go by a new codename: Shadowcat and that's pretty much the most significant change her character goes through in this series, despite all the traumatic things that happened to her. There are a few iffy aspects of the art and some creepy overtones to the relationship between Kitty and the villain, which arguably, when it comes to older comics, I'm often inclined to try to understand the historical context, but in this case... the creepy things just feel somewhat pointless to the overall story, there's not much that is done with them, so really, what is the purpose? I still enjoyed reading the first issue and half of the second, but this will be a storyline I'm willing to forget, and I don't think it will make much difference in the end

This is the first story arc written by Claremont that I didn't like ever since I decided to read Uncanny X-Men in chronological order. I'm a fan of his work and his creations, his sci-fi and fantasy reference and overdramatic narration, and even when I disagree with some of his choices, the man always balances things by writing interesting and fulfilling character journeys and plots (his work with Ororo and Illyana is just amazing stuff). While this series is far from remarkable it doesn't change how I feel about these characters in the long run

#review #comics #kitty pryde #wolverine #shadowcat #logan howlett #x-men #uncanny x-men #chris claremont #allen milgrom #comic book review #comic review #marvel #marvel comics #text #reading log

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galway-girlatwork · 4 months ago

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Say Something

Fandom: The Mandalorian-This is a very modern AU

Rating: Mature-There is angst.

Central Characters: Din and Eve (Original Female Character)

Central Relationship: Din and Eve

Word Count: 1,887

AO3

Please do not copy my work. If you liked it, please re-blog and tag me. Please do not steal my mood board. Stealing is just WRONG. I do not give permission to copy, translate, or post my work to any other platform.

This is for Jo’s DEAR-UARY-A new epistolary writing challenge.

Eve is in italic. Din is in bold.

Jo, I had a fun and interesting time writing this. Thanks for letting me take part. MUHA

Music Inspiration:

Say Something-A Great Big World

You-The Pretty Reckless

Helium-Sia

Summary:

Eve’s career has always taken a back seat to Din’s. The goal was always she would start working more on her music when he graduated law school and worked for one year at a law firm. Now both of their careers are taking off but where she’s always been there for him, Eve is finding that Din isn’t always there for her. Feeling forgotten, she now lives for her music. And Din forgets that marriage takes just as much work as a career.

It had been two weeks since they’d last exchanged words—two weeks of icy silence punctuated by the hollow sounds of routine. Her guitar sat untouched in the corner of their living room, strings gathering dust. Across the room, Din’s law books were stacked haphazardly, a stark contrast to his usual meticulous order, the house feeling like a museum of unresolved tension.

Their last fight had been explosive, her voice, usually melodic, had cracked with anger as she accused him of not supporting her. “It was the last concert of my first tour! You promised you’d be there. You didn’t even call to say you couldn’t make it.”

His excuse of a deposition running late was the last straw. She moved out of their bedroom and into the guest room. It felt like they were roommates instead of husband and wife. She was tired of the excuses, of feeling like everything they’d gone through at this point, meant nothing. They’d both worked so hard to be where they are but she felt like the only one reaping the rewards was him.

It had been little things up to this point…Forgotten diners, important dates that marked the year but this? This one hit just a little harder than all the rest. She’d finally gone on tour, her music such a driving force in her life, and he promised he would be at the very last show. But when she looked over to where he should have been, he wasn’t. The hurt coming through her voice as she squeezed eyes shut, just needing to finish and get off stage. When all was said and done, she ran to the wings, her assistant handing over her phone. Nothing. Not a text, a missed call…Absolutely nothing.

The argument they had was vicious and cruel. He of course took the lead on the cruel part. The minute she’d gotten home, she’d lashed out at him. He knew he was to blame for the anger and hurt she was feeling but she’d tossed out a comment about how he felt inferior to her now blossoming career and that was when he threw her past in her face. How when he met her, she was just a wanna be singing in dive bars, the vase she threw, missing him only by an inch. When she moved out of their bedroom, ignoring him and any attempt to have conversation, he felt like an outsider looking in. It had been his idea for counseling, wanting to fix what was broken. She had to know he still loved her, right?

The first session was a disaster, neither one of them speaking when asked what had started the discord in their marriage. After twenty minutes of silence, where breaths and pin drops could be heard, the counselor let them both know that they were being counterproductive. Well, no fucking shit, he thought. “If you can’t talk to each other, write to each other. Take turns. One day each. Be honest, but not cruel.” A single blank journal placed on the table between them.

The journal now laid on the coffee table, a blank canvas waiting for their words.

Day 1 – Eve

Din,

This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever fucking done. I don’t think that counselor knows shit about shit. I’ve only ever used journals for my music. So, I don’t even know where to start. How about I am fucking angry but I am more devastatingly hurt. That night was one of the most important of my life and you couldn’t even bother to show up.

I get it. Your work is demanding, important, something you’ve worked hard for, but I feel like I’m always competing with your job, and I always lose. That night, I needed you to see me, to hear me. Not as a musician, but as your wife. I wanted you to be proud of me for what I’ve accomplished since those days of being a “dive bar wanna be.”

Day 2 –Din

Eve,

I’m sorry. I know those words feel empty right now, but they’re true. I hate that I let you down. I was stuck in that deposition, and all I could think about was getting out in time to make it to your concert. But by the time I looked at the clock, it was too late. I didn’t call because I didn’t want to hear the disappointment in your voice. That’s no excuse, but it’s the truth.

I’m sorry for the dive bar comment. That was just cruel. I’ve never been jealous of your music. I’ve been proud. Okay maybe I’ve been a little jealous. Not of the music but of your talent. I’ve heard you singing not just in dive bars but in our kitchen, in your little make shift studio and have always been in awe of your talent.

Day 3 –Eve

Din,

Thank you for saying you’re sorry. But it’s not just about that one night. This has been building for a long time. I feel like I’m always fighting for a place in your life. You’re so good at what you do, and I’m proud of you, but sometimes I feel invisible. Do you even see me anymore?

Why didn’t you tell me? That you were jealous? I am not sure why you are. I’ve never done anything in the entire time we’ve been together that would make anyone jealous. I am just me, doing what I love, wanting to spend my life with someone I love.

Day 4 – Din

Eve,

I see you. God, do I see you. You’re brilliant, talented, everything I’m not. When you’re on stage, you light up in a way that takes my breath away. But sometimes, I feel like I’m the one who doesn’t fit into your life. Your world is so vibrant, so alive. I’m just…here, working late nights and missing all the moments that matter. I hate that I make you feel invisible when you’re the most important person in my life.

Day 5 –Eve

Din,

I never knew you felt that way. I thought you were indifferent. Thinking, “Oh there goes my wife, traveling everywhere.” Like it was no big deal that I was going to be gone for months, that you didn’t care what I did, where I was or who I was hanging out with.

Tour life is not glamorous. It’s boring as fuck. It’s tour buses, junk food, crappy hotel rooms. Until I am on stage, feeling the music pour outta me. That is when I wanted you to see me. I thought if you did, if you heard, you’d know. I miss you. I miss us.

Day 6 – Din

Eve,

I miss us too. I don’t know how we got to this point. Maybe this whole journal thing isn’t crap?

Day 7-Eve

No, it is crap. Total crap. Want to know why? Because we should be able to say these things to each other. But guess what? We’re not. Why? Because you are never fucking home. It’s fuckin two in the morning and where are you? At the office. Again. Why am I even here Din?

Day 8-Din

Eve,

I am sorry. Yea I know. I sound like a broken record. I wonder how much money you’d have if you had a dollar for every time I said that to you in the last five years. Eve I want to fix this but when I am home, you don’t talk to me. It’s like I am living with a stranger instead of the woman who used to watch horror movies with me. I can’t even remember the last time we did that.

Day 9-Eve

Din,

Maybe if you actually tried. I feel like you’ve given up. Is this where we say good-bye? Where we realize that it was a mistake and just stop? I am tired and I don’t want to live like this. It’s exhausting.

Day 10-Din

Don’t do this. Where are you? Please come home. I want to fix this but it sounds like you’ve already given up. Eve…Please

Day 11-Eve

Day 12-Din

Eve we’re supposed to be writing in this together. You’ve not been home in two days. Please baby. Where are you?

Day 13-Eve

Day 14-Din

Jesus fuck Eve. WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?!?!?!?!?

Day 15-Eve

Calm the fuck down. I was at the studio. I needed a break. Do you know how hard it is to be in the same house with someone who is supposed to be in love with you, but can’t even stand to look at you? Why should I be here Din? So you can torture me with your uncaring attitude? I’d rather pluck my eyes out with a fork.

Day 16-Din

Don’t be so dramatic Eve. I was worried. Is that what you think? That I don’t care? I do. Care I mean. Yes I do know. What you think it is easy to be in the same house with you and not want to just pin you down, kiss you senseless and tell you a hundred fucking times that I love you, that I’m sorry?

Day 17-Eve

Sex is not going to fix this.

Day 18-Din

Stubborn fucking brat. Where in that sentence did I say anything about sex? I miss kissing you.

Day 19-Eve

I miss kissing you too. I miss feeling you next to me. Din…How did we get here?

Day 20-Din

I don’t know baby. We’re both stubborn?

Day 21-Eve

Yes, I am stubborn and out there and maybe the music won’t be as successful as I want it to be but Din I need you to know that it is important to me. Just as your career is important to you. I’ve been here this whole time. We agreed that I could pursue music after one year of you at the firm. I just feel like you’re not here. I wanted to share it with you. Share the music and how much it drives me. I still love you but sometimes feel like you don’t want me.

Day 22-Din

I love you too. I want you more than you know. I will always want you Eve. I don’t always know the right words to say, but I can’t imagine a life without you. You’re my partner, my equal, I want to be better—not just for you, but with you. I’ll always fight for us.

Day 365-Eve

I can’t believe we kept at this for an entire year, especially since I was the one who said it was the stupidest and crappiest thing we could do. I love you.

Coming downstairs, he saw her sitting at the dining room table, closing the leather-bound journal. Looking over her shoulder, a sly wink given before she walked into the kitchen, he picked it up and read the last entry before rereading what had been written. Each entry was raw, honest, and sometimes painful, but they told the story of two people who refused to give up on each other.

Coffee in hand, she set both mugs on the table before sitting down. “Reading again?”

“Yeah.” Fingers encircled her wrist, pulling her up from the chair, dragging her body against his. Hands tunneling into thick blonde hair, lips brushing against hers. “I love you too.”

Tagging peeps:

@jolapeno @guiltyasdave @604to647 @ease-out-the-clutch @almostfoxglove @morallyinept

And of course @saradika-graphics for the dividers.

Love and hugs.

#din djarin #original female character #alternate universe #ao3 writer #jolapenosdearuary #don't judge it's mean

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